In this world-famous university city, with just a little time and effort, you could discover whatever you wanted to know, about any subject under the sun.
Like the properties of poison, for instance.
The figure slipped out of the churchyard gate and moved silently along the slick and damp pavement.
How many people knew that yew berries were poisonous? And of those that did, how many of them ever gave it a single passing thought that they could be so significant?
People were so complacent; so ignorant and oblivious to the ugliness in the world. So long as they were all right, and their own small personal universes were running smoothly, they cared little for anything or anybody else.
But as the person in the mackintosh headed quickly but cautiously for home now that the precious cargo had been safely harvested, they began to smile and nod. For soon the whole city would be made aware of just what the fruit of the humble yew could do. Oh yes. There would be a fuss made then, all right.
People always sat up and took notice when the young and the beautiful began to die.
Grace Farley paused outside the garden gate of her old friend, Trudy Loveday, and took a deep breath. At just turned 22, she was a few years older than Trudy, whom she’d first met at their local primary school. But it had been a few years now since she’d last seen her, and she needed a moment or two to compose herself.
She was not at all sure that what she was about to do was the right thing. What if it all backfired on her? A worried frown creased her pretty, freckled face as she debated whether or not to just turn around and go back home.
Part of her was sorely tempted to do just that. After all, so much could go awry, yet things were getting increasingly desperate, and there was no doubt in her mind that she needed help. Everyone knew that Trudy had joined the police and was doing really well. Grace’s Auntie May had heard from the hairdresser that Trudy had helped solved two murders. Mind you, everybody believed it was really one of the city’s coroners who had been the true force behind the cases. But even so.
Grace, a pleasingly plump girl, with short, curly reddish-brown hair that lent itself nicely to the poodle cut she favoured, glanced around, knowing that she couldn’t stand hovering outside the Lovedays’ garden gate all day long. People would begin to notice and wonder, and that was the very last thing she needed. Drawing attention to herself could be disastrous. Besides, it was getting on for six o’clock, and would soon start getting dark, so she needed to get back to her mum. She’d promised to help give her a bath, and…
Realising that she was still putting the moment off, she determinedly pushed open the gate, marched up to the front door and before she could stop herself, firmly rapped the knocker three times.
She realised then that her hands were trembling visibly, and quickly thrust them into her coat pocket. In her head on the way over here, she’d rehearsed time and time again what she would say, but most of it was swept away when the door opened, and there stood Mr Loveday, Trudy’s father. She knew he drove the buses, though not the one she took into work each day.
She forced a bright smile onto her face, and said, somewhat breathlessly, ‘Hello, Mr Loveday. Is Trudy in?’
Frank Loveday looked down at the worried face of the girl looking up at him, her big grey-green eyes open wide and unblinking, and gave her a friendly smile in return.
‘Grace! Long time, no see. Of course our Trudy’s in. Come on in, Barbara’s just put the kettle on.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to put you to any bother,’ Grace said quickly, stepping into the small hallway, and then following him down the little corridor to the back, where the kitchen was. Her own council house, when she’d lived in this area just a few streets away, had the exact same layout, as did their house once they’d moved to the other side of the city for her dad’s job.
‘Look who’s come to pay a visit,’ Frank Loveday said, ushering a suddenly shy and obviously nervous Grace into the kitchen. Cheerful yellow was the dominating colour, and the tiny space was filled with the appetising aroma of the shepherd’s pie that the family had just consumed for their tea. Grace smiled uncertainly at Barbara Loveday, who was at the sink washing up. Quickly drying her hands on a towel, Trudy’s mother bustled forward to give her a quick hug.
‘Grace Farley! My, but you’ve grown into a pretty girl. Hasn’t she, Frank?’ Barbara demanded of her husband.
‘She certainly has,’ Frank agreed, taking his seat back at the kitchen table, where a copy of the local paper lay spread out at the sports section.
‘How’s your mother doing, Gracie?’ Barbara asked, lowering her voice a few notches. ‘Is she feeling any better?’
Her eyes sharpened in concern when the girl paled slightly, but Grace nodded bravely.
‘Oh, well, you know, the doctors are doing all they can,’ she said, with forced briskness. Then her eyes moved over the older woman’s shoulder and met those of a tall, dark-haired girl with large pansy-dark eyes and a wide smile. ‘Hello, Trudy.’
‘Grace!’ Trudy, who’d been drying the dishes as her mother passed them to her, put down her own towel, and correctly reading the appeal in her old friend’s eyes said, ‘I’ve had my bedroom redecorated since you moved away. Want to come and see it?’
‘Oh, I’d love to,’ Grace lied with a bright smile. ‘I bet it’s green. That’s your favourite colour, right?’
‘One of them.’ Trudy laughed, and leaving her parents to listen to Tony Hancock on the wireless, she led her old school friend to the hall then up the narrow flight of stairs to her small bedroom at the back of the house.
Little more than a box room really, it had enough room for a single bed, a wardrobe and a small dressing table. As they had done when they were still both in pigtails, Grace and Trudy sat side by side on the bed without thinking, the years dropping away.
Although Trudy was glad to see her, her mind was nevertheless working overtime. The Farleys had left this area of town some four years ago now, and although she’d heard the odd bits and pieces of news about them from various sources, she had no idea what could have brought Grace back to her door.
She knew that her old school friend had a good job working as a secretary or book-keeper or something for some shop or business in the ‘posh’ end of town. She’d also heard, sadly, that Grace’s mother was now rather seriously ill.
As if sensing her curiosity, Grace suddenly gave a wry smile, and began to nervously pleat and re-pleat the folds of the skirt she was wearing. It was a habit she’d had ever since she was little, and Trudy frowned, knowing that she only ever did it when she was upset or nervous.
‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,’ Grace said abruptly. ‘I’m not sure, really, if I should have come at all. But I didn’t know who else I could talk to. I mean, with you being in the police and everything.’
Trudy blinked in surprise. Whatever she’d expected Grace to say, it hadn’t been that. For what on earth could someone like Grace want with the police? A more law-abiding, respectable family than the Farleys was hard to imagine.
‘Blimey,
