Free A Life Less Lonely by Jill Barry Page A

straight up the ramp accessing the new garden.
    Keir felt in his pocket and produced his name badge. “Sorry. Don’t really like wearing this thing. I can barely ride in the lift without someone peering at it and asking my advice.”
    The policeman nodded. “I understand, Sir. You say you’ve just arrived. So you don’t know anything about what’s going on over there?”
    “No,” said Keir. ‘But seeing an elderly person looking so distressed, I gather something’s happened to cause all this attention and nobody knows quite how to handle her. Is that right, Officer?” Could this young constable actually be any older than fourteen?
    “That’s about it, I reckon,” said the policeman cheerfully. “After you, Dr Harrison.”
    Keir took the nearest walkway, approaching the centre of the garden so he knew the elderly woman would have him in her sights. He walked past lavender bushes and shrubs lovingly planted and about to burgeon. Everything was in pristine order. But at the central circular flowerbed, earth was scattered on the tiles and several bright pink begonias in plastic containers lay higgledy-piggledy as though suddenly abandoned.
    The female officer looked at him with a certain amount of relief. Her colleagues hovered at a distance. After all, they didn’t need their riot shields. But Keir ignored everyone except the woman in the pale blue twin set. Under a disreputable-looking hat, her face was streaked with tears and she brandished a shiny, red trowel. Keir imagined this might be viewed as a weapon for purposes of preparing a statement. Well, just let them try pulling that one.
    “Hello,” he said, looking straight at the woman. “My name’s Keir and I work here. Do you work here too?”
    Her face brightened. “I’m only trying to help. They said on the radio they needed people to help. So I came at once.”
    “This lady removed these plants from the florists across the way,” murmured the WPC. “Barged into the shop and out again. Then she started digging.”
    “Thank you Officer, I get the picture.” He turned back to the woman. “So, Margaret, why don’t we sit down on that bench a minute?”
    “My name’s not Margaret.” She raised her chin. “I’m Mrs Rosemary Tarrant.”
    Keir’s heart did a double flip in his chest as he recognised her surname. So this was where Andrea got those fabulous eyes. “Right,” he said. “Well, Mrs Tarrant, I happen to think, with a pretty name like yours, you must know a lot about gardening. Do you have a garden of your own?”
    As the WPC walked the perpetrator to the seat, Keir took a ten pound note from his wallet and handed it to the baby-faced police officer. “Please give this to the florist with my apologies,” he said. “Explain this lady is a patient of Dr Harrison from Hartnett General and that I take full responsibility.”
    He squatted in front of Rosemary. “Mrs Tarrant, can you talk me through this planting business? We should get your lovely gift in the ground.” He held out an immaculately manicured hand for the trowel.
    “How kind of you to help,” she said, surrendering her weapon of mass destruction. “I’m not so good at kneeling these days.”
    The WPC’s jaw dropped as the consultant moved towards the flowerbed and dipped the trowel into the soil. The security man’s face was one broad grin. The remaining police officer was on his radio while his partner went off to make peace with the florist.
    With the begonias set in place, Keir stood up and rubbed his hands together. “Now, Mrs Tarrant,” he said. “How’s that? Do you think I’ve got green fingers?’
    “I do. My word, you’re lovely and tall. Greg – that’s my daughter’s husband – he’s tall like you. He’s an Army major, you know.”

 
     
    Chapter Five
     
    Her phone’s long ring tone sent Andrea dashing back as she was about to leave her office. It might be something to do with Josh.
    “Andrea? It’s me … Keir.”
    “You just caught