Page 36 of Lost Luggage
Edith snorted. ‘A few strong words over church issues never bothered your sister, you should know that. We both told the other members of the committee exactly what we thought of them letting people litter the graveyard with all sorts of fripperies like mini fluorescent windmills.’
‘What upset her, then?’ Dolly shivered.
Edith put down the bag, as parents filed past, back to their cars. ‘Greta broke down, if you must know. I wasn’t sure what to do – your sister never was my cup of tea, and I wasn’t hers. It was all a bit embarrassing. Everyone else had left and she was pacing up and down. She said her worst nightmare was coming true, about receiving bad news, she mumbled about a holiday that mustn’t happen. All I know is that she was off to a confrontation that would cause a lot of hurt. Other stuff…’ Edith cleared her throat. ‘Greta was rambling.’ She picked up the kettle again. ‘After that day our relationship became even more prickly. I thought the opposite might have happened but I think she regretted opening up to me.’ Edith went to go. ‘I’ve never forgotten Greta’s last words, about the Eighth Commandment that says not to “bear false witness”, how it meant that as evil is opposite to good, so was lying to being honest – she reckoned it wasn’t always that straightforward, that sometimes lies were better than the truth.’ A tide of red rose up Edith’s neck as she gave a clipped smile and hurried away.
26
Dolly didn’t see the woman outside her bungalow who wore joggers and headphones; a hand on her arm didn’t register either. Dolly put her key in the lock, stepped inside and was about to close the door when the breeze delivered her name.
‘Dolly! Would you like me to leave? I still regret giving Granddad your address…’ Phoebe’s words hung in the air between them, Dolly not taking them in. Headphones removed and around her neck, Phoebe bounced up and down in the cool evening breeze. ‘Is there any way I can change your mind about the bake-off?’
Greta had lied.
Dolly stood frozen so Phoebe took a step forwards; she rubbed Dolly’s back and guided her inside. Phoebe strode ahead to the kitchen. Dolly placed Greta’s photo face down, on top of the record player, picking up the octopus plushie to make room. She turned it to the blue side and sat down with it on her lap. Phoebe came in with two mugs; she settled in the armchair and sipped her drink.
‘Ah ha, there’s Ozzy.’
Dolly gave an apologetic look and handed over the octopus but Phoebe shook her head.
‘You can borrow him if you like.’
‘Bit keen, isn’t it, running after work?’
‘No. I love jogging.’
‘Lymhall is reasonably close to Knutsmere, in the car, but it must have taken you ages on foot.’
Phoebe pulled a face. ‘Susan says I’m not allowed to do more than half an hour and it sucks. I caught the bus into Knutsmere centre and ran from there.’
‘There are biscuits in the kitchen, by the toaster. Help yourself.’
Phoebe fetched them and sat down in the armchair. ‘I love that cupboard to the right of the kitchen window. Is it a genuine suitcase? The authentic handle is brilliant.’
‘It’s the lot I bid on in the… 2012 auction. It has three shelves fitted inside. Our old cupboard kept getting loose at the hinges, and the suitcase’s colour matched our other wooden fittings exactly. A polish and lick of varnish left it looking brand new. It contained a lovely pair of leopard print stilettos. We gave them to Kaz next door.’
Phoebe offered the biscuits to Dolly who took out three. Phoebe stared at the tube, put her hand in, then took it back. She sighed and then took one out after all.
‘You don’t have to. More for me,’ said Dolly.
‘I promised Susan.’
Why would this Susan, a friend she’d mentioned in the notebook, care about something so insignificant, and why the limit on jogging time?
That evening, years ago, when Dolly had visited Greta after finding Fred’s flat empty, sitting on the sofa with her mum and sister she’d worked her way through a whole packet of digestives. Normally Greta would have taken them away, said one was enough. Dolly had thought she was being sympathetic but now she knew Greta had let her eat them due to a guilty conscience. Her sister had pretended to be surprised by the news of Fred’s disappearance but according to him… and now Edith…
What else had her sister lied about?
‘… so I couldn’t resist buying a packet for your tank.’
‘What?’ asked Dolly, and she stared at the small yellow box in Phoebe’s hand.
‘Fresh bloodworm treats. They’re new stock, today. The store’s fish love them, they’ll be sold out by the end of the week. They are bloodworms preserved in vitamin-enriched jelly. I thought they might act as a romantic dinner for Maurice and Fanny.’ Phoebe got up and dropped a few into the tank. The two fish eagerly chased them.
‘Is it to do with Granddad?’ asked Phoebe and she sat back down. ‘I don’t know what all this is about but… after the last year or two, I do know that talking helps.’
‘You first, then. Why does Susan care about biscuits? Why can’t you jog for as long as you want? Why exactly did you leave university?’
Phoebe shuffled in the armchair.
