Free Small Town Christmas (Some Very English Murders Book 6) by Issy Brooke Page B

these
circumstances. I understand.”
    “Well,” he said, “I’m off, and I’ll be taking the back
streets to get home rather than run the risk of encountering the steamroller of
the Fens again. Good luck.”
    “Yeah, thanks.”
     

Chapter Ten
     
     
    True to her word, the
irritating Linda dropped off a folder full of images, notes and ideas. Penny listened
to Linda give her a few more nuggets of unwelcome advice and managed to
restrain herself from answering. She waved Linda away, and took the folder
through to the kitchen to skim through it all.
    In principle, Penny was
sympathetic to the idea of opening up the footpath. There were photocopies of
articles and evidence, showing the background to the claim, and Penny had to
agree that it seemed like an act of spite on Clive’s part that he had
encouraged the utilities company to block the re-opening.
    If Linda was to be believed,
of course. Penny reminded herself that she could hardly take Linda’s word for
it. Furthermore, Linda’s callous dismissal of the death of her brother made
Penny feel quite uneasy.
    She pushed it from her mind,
for the moment; she certainly intended on passing all that information on to
Cath, when she saw her friend the next time.
     
    * * * *
     
    Catching up with Cath would
have to wait. On Sunday night, Penny went to the carol singing practice that
was held at the high school out on the eastern side of town. It was called an
“academy” now but Penny was unsure of what that meant, apart from they seemed
to be sponsored by a large regional building company and had had a new, shiny
logo designed for them.
    She was pleased that her
voice held up well throughout the session. She could never claim to be the
world’s best singer, but there was something wonderfully life-affirming about
singing as part of a group, and it always made her feel a little bit taller.
    Afterwards, she spent a few
minutes chatting with people. Ginni, the woman who ran the florist’s shop in
town, asked if she was joining them all for a drink.
    “No,” Penny said ruefully.
“I’m only just recovering from being ill. I’m not going to overdo it.”
    She waved her good byes, and
headed out into the cold night. As usual, she had walked to the school. In
spite of her claim to want to avoid overdoing things, she still took the longer
way home, walking along the road that went north-east out of town. It had
become a habit to extend her journey in this way.
    She was disappointed that
there weren’t any stars above, but the low grey cloud did keep the air warmer
than a clear night would have done. It was past nine o’clock, and being Sunday,
the road was very quiet. She crunched along the pavement next to the silent
road, her footsteps loud in the darkness. The streetlights were strung out at
long intervals, and cast little pools of orange light that were like a necklace
of amber jewels following the edge of the dark fields beyond.
    She walked briskly to keep
warm. She was grateful for Drew’s gloves and hat all over again. She pulled the
hat down over her ears.
    She could hear a car approaching
from behind, though the sound of its engine was muffled by the hat. As it sped
past, they beeped their horn, and she raised a hand in reply. It was most
likely to be some of the other choristers, on their way home or to the pub.
    Another car came up from
behind, its lights on full-beam to throw her own shadow large in front of her,
and she half-turned, her hand already rising up to wave a greeting.
    And this action probably
saved her life.
    The car did not slow down,
and there was no friendly toot of their horn. All Penny had time to register
was that it was red, glowing as it did under the nearest sodium street light.
But she was half-dazzled by the blinding headlights, and she could not see who
was driving. Then it was screaming towards her, and Penny stumbled backwards.
Her foot caught in a clump of half-frozen grass and she tumbled onto her
bottom, slipping and sliding