The Measby Murder Enquiry by Ann Purser Read Free Book Online Page B

with its observation window newly cleaned by Katya, and stared in defeated silence as three of their residents set off in the autumn sunlight down the path and out of the gate.
    “They might just as well be in a hotel,” Mrs. Spurling said. “There are some hotels, you know, Miss Pinkney, that specialise in old people who are able but want companionship. Those three are nothing but trouble here, and Mr. Goodman has been like a dog with two tails since he got that buggy. Can go for miles now, instead of a gentle walk around the garden. I had high hopes of Mrs. Wilson Jones being quite grateful for what we offer, but now she’s fallen in with bad company, and I suppose the next thing will be that daughter of hers coming here to accuse me of neglect.”
    “Neglect?” said Miss Pinkney. “Not never ever, my dear. Nobody could accuse you of that! No, my advice is to let them get on with it. We are not a prison, after all, though I have heard Mr. Goodman refer to us as, er . . .” She remembered in time that Mrs. Spurling wouldn’t see the joke, if it was one, and changed the subject.
    “That nice daughter of Felix Galloway is due to visit this afternoon, isn’t she? Such a pleasant person. But then Felix is a dear old man, isn’t he. Like father, like daughter!”
    “Oh, do shut up, Pinkers,” Mrs. Spurling said. “Just go and see to something, and leave me alone to brood.”
    Miss Pinkney smiled. She knew her boss so well, and felt sorry for her sometimes. It couldn’t be easy to remain working in a place where your husband had run off with the cook.
     
     
    “LOVELY AFTERNOON. WHAT a good idea of yours, Roy,” Alwen Jones said. “Are you sure you’re all right in that vehicle? I must say your steering is pretty nifty!”
    The electric shopper, a motorised vehicle for disabled people, had been the best thing, next to Ivy, that had happened to Roy. Although able enough to get around Springfields easily, he could not manage on rough pavements, nor go too far. He had quickly learned the shopper’s little ways, and was extremely deft at negotiating potholes and kerbs all round the village. Dropped kerbs providing a smooth crossing for wheelchairs and pushchairs had not yet reached Barrington, though Deirdre had said she would talk to the right people and get them fixed in no time.
    “It’s a revolution, Alwen,” Roy said. “Saves Ivy from pushing an old fogey along in a wheelchair.”
    Ivy smiled fondly at him. She knew how much it meant to him to be independent and in charge of a wheeled vehicle again. That was the rotten thing about old age. It changed the way you felt about yourself. Well, she did not intend it should happen to her, or Roy. If you ask me, she said to herself, you have to keep up the fight to the end.
    “And you’ve got a lovely big bag for your shopping,” Alwen said. “What shall we buy this afternoon, Ivy?”
    Ivy was tempted to say maybe Alwen should watch her pennies after the recent debacle, but she was sure there were plenty more tens of thousands in the Jones kitty.
    “We usually keep supplies of our favourite chocs or biscuits in our rooms,” she said. “Nothing like a chocolate digestive if you feel a bit peckish in the middle of the night. Of course,” she added, “I expect when your husband was alive, he’d go down and make a nice hot cup of tea to help you back to sleep?”
    Alwen’s face closed up. “I’ve never had trouble sleeping, Ivy,” she said.
    “Lucky you,” said Roy. “My dreams wake me up sometimes. ‘Dreaming, oh my darling love, of thee,’ ” he sang in a soppy voice, and Ivy looked at him sharply. Surely he was not referring to her? Well, it had better not be anyone else.
    “Watch out, Roy!” said Alwen. “Oh, sorry, I thought that cat was going to run right in front of you. Now, here we are. Can I help you alight?”
    There’s no doubt about it, thought Ivy. She clammed up the minute her husband was mentioned. Definitely something funny