Free Plotted in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho Page A

friend of mine used to clean for Louisa. That was some years ago now, mind. She said you wouldn’t believe the money they wasted on things that were not much use to anyone, object dart or some such thing they called them. A bit like this here portrait, I suppose.’
    Rose wondered at the strange French pronunciation but then, some of Doreen’s English was equally badly pronounced. ‘Did you ever meet the Jordans?’
    ‘No, not me. But Ellen knew ’un quite well. It’s surprising what you can learn about people when you go out cleaning. For a start you can tell by the state of their homes what they’re like, not that Ellen would snoop or anything. And if the peopleare home you wouldn’t believe how some of them carry on, as if you’re not there, as if you haven’t got two good ears clamped to the side of your head. Discussions about money all the time when the two of them were there, Ellen told me.
    ‘The girl were all right, though, she’d have been about fourteen or fifteen at the time. Some fancy name she had. Marina, was it?’
    ‘Miranda.’
    Doreen nodded and reached for another slice of heavy cake. She had bitten into it before what Rose had said sank in. ‘Then you must know them.’
    ‘No, not really, but I teach their nephew, Joel.’
    ‘They’m rich, too, the Penhaligons. My Cyril tried for years to get work, but he only knew mining, and that was in his blood. I’m sure that’s why he’s always digging his damn garden, still trying to get back underground, if you ask me. What was I saying? Yes, Cyril. Ellen mentioned his predicament to Louisa Jordan and she said she’d have a word with her brother. Cyril had a long chat with Roger Penhaligon but decided against going to work on one of his holiday campsites. The hours weren’t long enough, he said, but to be honest, I think by then he’d just lostheart. The Penhaligons’ve got a few bob, too, by all accounts. Ellen did a few stints for them when their own cleaner was off sick and she said, for rich people, they were quite normal. Good job Ellen’s got a car, gadding about the way she does.’ Doreen thought nothing of the distances she had travelled in her own car over the years to tidy up after people who lived in isolated areas. She chewed thoughtfully and brushed some crumbs from her large bosom which was encased in pastel pink acrylic. ‘I did hear that the Jordans had moved away but I can’t imagine folk like that lasting up on Bodmin Moor.’
    ‘The husband and daughter didn’t go, only Louisa and her sister.’
    ‘So the sister joined her, did she? It was said that Frank Jordan couldn’t say no to no woman,’ she added enigmatically.
    Double negatives aside, the information was useful and provided an obvious explanation for what had seemed mysterious. Petra Penhaligon had said much the same thing, that another woman was involved. Rather than have it known that he had gone off with someone else, or maybe to save his wife’s embarrassment, he had used the move to cover his actions. If the woman wasmarried neither of them might wish to be found. But that doesn’t explain Miranda, Rose realised. Unless, contrary to what the Penhaligons believed, the girl had sided with her father and gone to live with him as Louisa had suggested to her brother. Instinct told Rose this was not the case.
    ‘You’re looking a bit brighter now. Nothing like coffee and cake and a bit of a natter to set you up, that’s what I always say.’
    And for once Doreen seemed right. Discussing the Jordan/Penhaligon family had taken her mind off what had kept her awake all night.
    Doreen got up to go. ‘There’s a load of veg in there, girl. If you can’t use it all pass some on to Laura.’
    ‘Please thank Cyril for me and tell him none of it’ll be wasted.’ Laura would certainly benefit and it was a fair exchange because Trevor kept her supplied with fish. The barter system was still strong in Cornwall.
    When Doreen had gone Rose put the vegetables in