Free Apportionment of Blame by Keith Redfern Page B

problem.
    â€œCan I ask you about two things?” I began, “And tell me if you think I’m prying into corners which you think should be left private.”
    She stood the iron up on its back and turned to face me.
    â€œThere’s been so much happening recently. We’ve taken so many knocks. Losing Helen was like the last straw.”
    I waited for her to continue. She turned her attention to the sink, picking up a cloth and idly wiping the surround -working out how much to say, I suspected.
    â€œWhen my mother-in-law died,” she said, “we lost a true friend. Oliver had recently been made redundant, and the two things coming close together were difficult to cope with.”
    â€œI didn’t know your husband lost his job.”
    â€œYes. His bank was taken over, and they were rationalised -that was the word they used. Meaning slimmed down. They had too many investment managers”
    â€œThat must have come as a shock.”
    â€œIt did. It came totally out of the blue. One month we were comfortably off, and the next he was unemployed.”
    â€œBut not for long, I should think. If he was an investment manager, he must have a lot of talent and experience. I should think he would be picked up quite quickly.”
    â€œThat’s what we hoped would happen. Oliver used to talk about head-hunters in the City, but he’s stopped referring to that now. He says he’s too old. You worked in the City, didn’t you? What do you think?”
    There was hopefulness in her voice, and I knew I couldn’t help, but didn’t want to say anything either trite or disheartening.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said uselessly. “I hope he finds something soon.”
    Then something else occurred to me.
    â€œAnd, of course, Joyce lost her job not so long ago.”
    I regretted saying it as soon it came out.
    â€œYes. She came home, so there were now four mouths to feed, and only Helen working.”
    None of this had any connection with Helen, and I could see I was only making Joyce’s mother feel worse. Keep to the subject, I told myself. You’re trying to help her, not make her miserable. Say something positive, for God’s sake.
    â€œI found some of Helen’s bank details upstairs. It looks as if she was very careful with her money.”
    â€œYes. She was. Oliver taught her to be like that. She was a very sensible girl. We’ll miss her a lot.”
    Her head began to drop as she spoke, and I noticed her shoulders beginning to shake. I moved up behind her and held her upper arms and she turned, her head falling on my shoulder as her body wracked with sobs.
    After a few moments she sniffed very hard and lifted her head again.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said.
    â€œThere’s no need to be. I’m sorry that my questions are making you feel worse.”
    She pulled away from me and fished in her pocket for a handkerchief, then blew her nose.
    â€œDo you want me to leave everything else for now?” I suggested.
    â€œNo. I’ll be all right if I sit down for a bit. Let’s go back in the living room.”
    â€œDon’t forget the iron,” I said.
    â€œOh, yes. Thanks. I’ll be forgetting my own head soon.”
    She sat on a chair, her knees pulled tightly together, her handkerchief in her hand, trying very hard to hold herself together.
    I took the long, leather sofa.
    â€œWhat was it you wanted to ask me?”
    â€œYou’ve answered one of my questions already. I found a letter referring to the will of Helen’s grandmother, and you told me it was your mother-in-law.”
    â€œEx mother-in-law.”
    â€œOh. I see. You kept in touch, then?”
    â€œYes. Oh, that’s a whole other story,” she said, her head flopping back to the cushion. We became very close during my first marriage. She was always so supportive. She came down to live near here. After her sons and husband had died, she