The Skeleton Tree by Diane Janes (reading women TXT) 📕

time ago. Let’s face it, my dear, you were barely born when Dora disappeared. And the first murder – if there was one – happened even longer ago than that.’

‘How do we find out about it? Another trip to the archives in Durham, I suppose?’

‘If there was a murder, it would be sure to have made the newspapers,’ Joan speculated.

‘The problem would be where to start looking,’ Wendy mused. ‘We knew exactly when Dora went missing. This time it’s much vaguer. It was at some point during her grandfather’s childhood, according to Peggy, but we don’t really know when that was.’

‘Didn’t she say her grandfather died around VE Day? That’s 1945, so if he was ninety, that would mean he was born around 1855, but if he was only in his sixties, it could be as late as 1885. Goodness, I see what you mean. Oh dear! Sorry to swerve like that.’

Wendy stifled a gasp as the car narrowly avoided a collision with a cyclist while Joan’s mind had been preoccupied with questions other than the road ahead. When she could breathe again, Wendy said, ‘The microfilm would send you bonk-eyed. It might take days to cover all those years. There must be a shortcut?’

‘Do you think there’s a real book? A history of the village, I mean? There might be something in the local interest section of the library.’

‘I’ve never noticed anything like that. Oh, I know!’ Sudden inspiration made Wendy’s voice rise. ‘I could ask Tara to ask her friend’s father about it. The one who put me on to the census. I believe he knows quite a lot about local history. You know,’ she added, ‘I was a bit surprised when Peggy said that Dora was going back in the direction of Green Lane when she saw her. To think that she was almost home and never made it.’

‘It’s strange what she had to say about the man, too,’ said Joan. ‘Perhaps the other witness – the old lady with the bad eyesight – was right. He might have turned off and had nothing to do with it. But that doesn’t make sense, does it? It’s always the sinister stranger on the lonely path. And he wasn’t identified, was he? An innocent person would have come forward.’

‘I’m not so sure. A lot of people mightn’t want to get involved. And if all he saw was a girl pushing a bike along a track, he might think, what’s the point? I can’t tell them anything they don’t already know.’

On balance, Wendy decided it best not to mention the visit to Peggy’s in front of Bruce. He had such a lot on his plate at the moment. On the other hand, she would have to explain at least some of the details to Tara if they were going to enlist the help of John Newbould via her friend Helen. Best mull it over, she thought, and not do anything right away.

‘Do you think the papers will go a day between now and the wedding without printing something about this blessed engagement?’ Bruce turned a page of the Saturday morning paper, spreading the sheets wide, then folding the whole newspaper into a smaller shape which could be accommodated more easily on a corner of the breakfast table, while he indulged in a weekend treat of bacon and eggs.

‘I suppose it’s because it’s Prince Charles and she’ll be the queen one day. And it makes a change from the unemployment figures.’

‘A chap at work said he’d only been put up to marrying her to distract people from what a mess the country’s in.’

‘I like Lady Diana.’ Katie looked up from a bowl of cornflakes. ‘She’s very pretty.’

‘A dumb blonde,’ said her father. ‘You’d have thought Charles would have gone for someone with a few more brains. I mean, what does she know of life? A young girl of nineteen? She’s barely a year older than Tara, for goodness’ sake.’

‘Who’s barely a year older than me?’ Tara, still in her dressing gown, entered the kitchen in time to hear the tail end of the sentence.

‘Lady Diana,’ Wendy explained. ‘I’m doing bacon and eggs, Tara, do you want some?’

‘Uggh, no thanks. So what about me and Lady Diana then?’

‘I was just saying to your mother that she’s far too young and inexperienced to be getting married – particularly to a man who’s so much older.’

‘I don’t see why.’

Oh dear, Wendy thought. First thing on a Saturday morning when Tara was barely out of bed was not the best moment to take issue with her on anything.

‘Well, you would see exactly what I mean if you were a bit older yourself.’

No, no, Bruce, Wendy wanted to say, but it was already too late.

‘It’s older people who have got the world into such a mess,’ Tara said, not even looking at Bruce as she reached into the fridge for the juice. ‘If she’s in love with Prince Charles – though why anyone would be, I can’t imagine – then of course she should marry him. Younger people know a lot more than older people think they do.’

‘Tara, please don’t take that tone with your father.’

‘He’s not my father. I do wish you’d try to get your head around that.’ Tara had moved from the fridge to the counter, where she poured some juice into a glass.

‘Irrespective of blood lines,’ said Bruce, ‘you shouldn’t be speaking to anyone in that tone of voice. Not me or your mother. And while you’re living under my roof, you’ll show some respect.’

‘Or else what?’ For the first time since she had entered the kitchen, Tara looked Bruce straight in the eye. ‘Go on …’ she goaded. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘Tara, please … we were all just sitting here, having a nice family breakfast …’

‘And it’s all been spoiled by the cuckoo in the nest.’ Tara shrugged. ‘Well, don’t worry, I’m not stopping you. Carry on with your nice family breakfast.’ She invested the final words