Free It's Now or Never by June Francis Page A

kept cows in the back and she purchased buttermilk from him for her father who’d had a taste for it from childhood. Having done that she crossed the street to the number on the business card and banged the knocker.
    She waited, tapping her fingers on the railings that enclosed a small tiled area overlooked by a bay window. The movement of a net curtain caught her eye and she realized that she was being observed. Was that because Lynne Donegan was being extra cautious, thinking her daughter just might have been followed home? She waved a hand and the curtain dropped.
    Moments later the door opened and a smiling Lynne stood there. ‘It is Constable Walker, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Yes,’ replied Hester. ‘Go on, say it! I look different out of uniform.’
    â€˜You do, but I can still tell it’s you,’ said Lynne. ‘Do come in!’
    She opened the door wider, pressing herself against the lobby wall to allow her visitor to pass. Hester wiped her feet on the coconut mat.
    â€˜I hope all is well with you and your daughter and she hasn’t had any more scares. Have you spoken to the headmistress at her school? You can’t be too careful these days.’
    â€˜Not yet, but I will,’ said Lynne hastily, leading the way into the parlour where a small coal fire burned in a tiled fireplace.
    Hester glanced about the room which contained a Singer sewing machine on a table, four dining chairs and a single comfy chair, over the arm of which lay a garment with a needle and thread hanging from it. In the alcoves either side of the fireplace were shelves containing various objects, such as reels of cotton and material samples, tin boxes and box files, as well as what could be pattern books. Beneath the shelves were cupboards.
    â€˜Would you like a cup of tea, Constable Walker?’ asked Lynne.
    â€˜Call me Hester,’ she replied. ‘Yes, I’d love a cup of tea.’
    â€˜Then perhaps while I make a pot, you’d like to look at my portfolio of wedding gown designs.’ Lynne removed the garment with the attached needle and thread and placed it on the table. ‘Please sit down.’
    She took a file from a shelf and put it on the arm of the comfy chair. ‘I’ll be back soon. Will you be needing a trousseau as well, because if you do …’
    â€˜I’m not sure yet.’ Hester smiled at her and sat down and picked up the portfolio.
    Lynne left her alone and hurried to make a pot of tea, thinking it was probably best if Nan stayed out of the way until Hester had left. Her grandmother was still in bed, so Lynne decided to take her a cup of tea and tell her she had a prospective customer. Hopefully, Hester would see a gown she liked in the portfolio. The household needed every penny they could get what with Roberta at grammar school and Nan not able to help Lynne the way she used to do.
    Hester lifted her head from her perusal of the designs she had been presented with and listened as light footsteps went up the stairs. Then she heard the murmur of voices overhead and wondered who else was living in the house beside the daughter. Then she remembered something having been said about a grandmother.
    It was not long before she heard footsteps descending the stairs and a few minutes later Lynne appeared, carrying a tray with two lovely delicate china cups and saucers patterned with dark red roses. There was a matching milk jug and sugar basin, teapot and side plates, as well as a plate of buttered scones. She poured out the tea and told Hester to help herself to sugar and a scone.
    â€˜What a lovely tea set,’ said Hester, helping herself to sugar.
    â€˜It belongs to my grandmother and it was her mother’s before her. It’s Victorian.’
    â€˜How old is your grandmother?’
    â€˜She’s admitted to being over eighty but she has to be a lot older than that, although I don’t know her exact age. She’s in bed with a