Page 64 of A Very Bookish Murder
‘No thanks, Callum,’ Ally said, ‘because I think we need fresh air. We’ll walk.’
‘Oh my God, look who’s here!’ Penelope said as George appeared from the bar.
Millie dropped the bag of ice, and Morwenna gasped.
George looked at them, obviously puzzled. ‘You all going back?’ he asked hesitantly. ‘I meant to join you for coffee, but I got chatting to this bloke and…’ He faltered, looking around at the group of women, staring at him in amazement. ‘What’s?—?’
‘I told them,’ Brigitte said in little more than a whisper. ‘I told them who you are.’
George frowned, looking bewildered. ‘Isthatwhy you’re all in such a state?’
‘No,’ Ally informed him. ‘We had a little fracas in the dining room and we’re heading back to the malthouse now.’
George put his arm around Brigitte. ‘Probably time we all got out of here, darling.’
‘No,’ said Brigitte, ‘can we please stop and have a drink because I need to talk to you.’
As she spoke, the elevator door opened and out stepped Bob Rigby.
‘Oh my word!’ he exclaimed, looking at Ally. ‘What a crowd! What’s going on? We were just settling into our room upstairsand I heard some commotion going on, so thought I’d come down to investigate.’
You can’t change the habits of a true detective, Ally thought with some amusement as she walked towards Rigby and gave him a hug. ‘It’s been quite an evening,’ she said, ‘and you’ve missed the action but’ – she paused – ‘you might want to meet your nephew!’ She indicated George standing just behind.
‘What? My nephew?’
‘This is the son that Joanne ran away to have,’ Ally informed him gently.
It was Rigby who made the first move, stepping forward and holding out his hand to George. George hesitantly shook his hand and then, after a moment, the two men embraced tightly.
‘Brigitte, I think you should come with us,’ Ally said, taking her by the arm. ‘We need to leave George here for a little while to get to know his uncle. Come on, ladies,’ she said to the others, who were standing open-mouthed in amazement, ‘we need to leave George here for now! Let’s head home!’
The night was cool and calm, the women wobbly. They kept having to stop every few yards.
Penelope kept repeating, ‘Howdareshe call me an overprivileged bitch! How dare she!’ Then she put an arm round Millie. ‘I’m sorry, Millie! Youknowit was meant for that cow Laura and not for you!’
‘Yes, yes,’ Millie said, still holding the rapidly melting ice pack to her eye. ‘I know, I know! Just don’t keep going on about it.’
‘Why on earth didn’t George tell us that he was Jodi’s son?’ Morwenna stopped to ask. ‘Brigitte, why couldn’t you have told us?’
‘George wanted to keep it secret because it might have made me a suspect in the murder,’ Brigitte replied.
Ally shrugged. ‘I should have guessed because there was quite a resemblance.’
Penelope hiccupped. ‘I’d like to go back and punch that bitch properly,’ she said, turning around and almost falling over.
Ally grabbed her by the arm. ‘You’ll do no such thing, Penelope! You’ll go to bed and sleep this off! Breakfast will be at half past nine in the morning because of going to the funeral and’ – she paused – ‘you’ve all got to be packed and ready to leave afterwards.’
There were groans from all four.
‘You can borrow my dark glasses, Millie,’ Penelope said, blowing her nose and then patting Millie on the back.
‘I’ve got dark glasses of my own,’ Millie replied tersely. ‘I always carry them with me.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Penelope said, stopping again.
‘No need to keep apologising,’ Millie said.
Ally had a sudden thought. ‘I expect Laura will be at the funeral tomorrow, being as she’s living with the ex-husband,’ she said. ‘So, for goodness’ sake, Penelope, donotmake a scene!’
