Chapter 27
J une and Mirren looked at one another.
‘Are you expecting . . .’
June shook her head. ‘Goodness, no, I’ve had the entire family on the phone all morning, thinking I can’t deal with a bit of snow and ice.’
‘Can you?’
‘Not really,’ said June. ‘Don’t tell them that.’
Mirren followed her slow progression – this time, to the side door. Obviously someone who knew their way about.
June looked puzzled, and it took Mirren a moment before she recognised the woman with the steely hair from the bookshop standing at the door, next to the man with the drooping beard.
‘That’s her,’ said the woman.
‘Thought as much,’ said the man.
‘Excuse me, love,’ said the woman.
‘It’s Mrs Fisher, actually,’ murmured June.
‘We believe this woman is trying to swindle something. She took something from our shop ... STOLE it.’
‘It was a tiny piece of paper!’ protested Mirren, realising as she did so she was incriminating herself. ‘And how did you know I was here?’
‘How did we notice you coming back for the battered old car you’d abandoned at the other end of the high street, then running the engine for twenty minutes before driving off incredibly slowly?’ snorted the man. ‘Also, you never check your mirrors.’
‘Georges!’ said the woman crossly, and Georges looked shamefaced, as if he’d also just incriminated himself.
‘Anyway, we believe you might have ...’
The woman glanced around the corridor, lined with bookshelves, and looked happy about it.
‘We believe you might have something that this young lady might be trying to make off with. But we are willing to offer you a very fair price for it.’
‘I’m not trying to make off with anything!’ spluttered Mirren. The woman was pushing her way over the threshold.
‘I’m sure we can help ... if you haven’t already found it ... It’s not that valuable, really, but we can do you a favour. Be nice to be able to turn the heating on, wouldn’t it?’
June had lost all of the sharp-eyed fervour she’d had earlier in the kitchen, and now looked terribly elderly and confused.
‘I’m not sure ... I’m not sure who all you people are.’
Mirren remembered how she had been conned the year before.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the woman, pushing past her. ‘We won’t disturb anything.’
Georges stood looking menacingly in the doorway.
‘She doesn’t have it,’ said Mirren boldly. ‘So piss off and leave her alone.’
‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ said the woman. ‘Don’t worry, love. We’ll sort you out.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said June weakly. ‘That would probably be best.’
‘You know, when we find it, we’re going to give you ONE HUNDRED POUNDS,’ said the woman. ‘Imagine that!’
Georges was already going through the shelves, carelessly tossing discarded books to the side. Some of them fell on the floor.
‘Ooh, how exciting,’ said June. She appeared to have completely forgotten the reason Mirren was there, and their conversation in the kitchen.
‘I think you can go,’ said the grey-haired woman to Mirren. ‘Once you’ve returned what you took from that frame. You and your little Palliser friend.’
‘He didn’t know anything . . .’
Mirren stopped talking even as the woman snorted loudly.
‘A PALLISER? No chance. Or was it just a lovely coincidence you ran into each other?’
‘We ...’ Mirren stopped talking, winded. The couple continued to pull at June’s shelves.
‘You get out of here or ...’ started Mirren again, taking a step forward.
‘Or what?’ said the woman. ‘You’ll call the police? You invited us in here, didn’t you?’
‘Why, yes, I think so,’ said June, looking confused. ‘Would you like a Penguin biscuit?’