6 Grounds for Murder Read Free

greeted her words, and both women jumped an inch off the ground. Mrs. Chubb gave a little yelp and stared at Doris, who stood just inside the doorway.
    “Bloody ’ell,” Gertie said crossly when she saw the puddle of milk spreading across the tiled floor. “You almost gave me a bloody ’eart attack, you did, you little twerp.”
    Doris dabbed at the drops of milk running down her skirt. “I’m sorry, Miss Brown, Mrs. Chubb. I’ll clean it up. I got scared, and the jug slipped out of me hands.”
    “Every blooming thing you touch slips out of your hand.” Gertie lifted her skirt and stepped out of the way of the spreading puddle. “Hurry up and get this muck cleaned up before it runs all over the bleeding floor.”
    “It was my fault,” Mrs. Chubb said as Doris flew to the sink. “I should have noticed she was there.”
    “Well, she would hear about the murder sometime.” Gertie stomped over the stove and grabbed hold of the coalscuttle. “Everybody will bloody know soon. I don’t know why it has to be such a blinking secret. It’s not as if she’s a blooming baby now, is it.”
    “Have a little more patience, Gertie.” Mrs. Chubb crossed her arms across her heavy bosom. “You were her age once, and just as green. I remember you barging into doors, and what about the time you burned your bum on the stove when you backed into it?”
    A smothered giggle from Doris brought hot color to Gertie’s face. “At least I didn’t drop things all the time and forget what I’d been told. Tell me once, that’s all you bleeding had to do, and I remembered.”
    “Well, Doris will, too, in time, won’t you, ducks,” Mrs. Chubb said, sending Doris an encouraging smile. “Now be a good girl and get this mess cleaned up before Michel comes in here banging his saucepans around, the way he does.”
    Put out by the housekeeper’s defense of the new housemaid, Gertie muttered, “I don’t know why Ethel had to bleeding go to London to live. She might have been slow but she knew what she was doing.”
    Mrs. Chubb rolled up her sleeves and moved over to the sink to help Doris lift the heavy bucket of water to the floor. “Now, you know Joe went there to work after selling their farm. If your husband went to London to live, wouldn’t you want to go with him?”
    “I s’pose.” Gertie sighed heavily. “But I don’t have no bleeding husband, do I. Nor do I want one.” She saw Doris’s eyes grow wide as her gaze traveled to Gertie’s swollen belly.
    “And don’t bloody look at me like that,” Gertie snapped. “I was bleeding married when I got lumbered. At least I thought I was. It weren’t my fault he already had a blinking wife.”
    Doris looked away hurriedly and dipped her hands in the hot water. Bringing up a dripping dishcloth from the soapsuds, she squeezed some of the water out of it then slapped it on the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “It’s none of my business, I’m sure.”
    “Too right, it ain’t.” Gertie strode over to the back door and flung it open. “I’m going to get the coal. I’ll be back in a minute, so I hope the floor is clean by then.”
    She stepped out into the damp, dark night and lifted her face to the sky. It felt good not to be on the bottom rung of the work ladder anymore. Now it was her turn to order someone about, and she was going to enjoy it after all the years of taking it from everyone else.
    Stomping across the yard to the coal shed, she dragged her thin shawl closer around her shoulders. A cool, crisp wind from the sea brushed her cheeks and brought the taste of salt to her lips. She shivered and wished she’d worn the heavier shawl, the one Mrs. Chubb had knitted for her.
    The door of the shed was stuck again, and she tugged on it, lustily swearing when it wouldn’t budge. She’d complained no end of times that the door kept getting stuck. No one took any notice of her anymore. If Ian had been here, he would have mended it for her.
    She took a