Snapped in Cornwall Read Free Page A

yourself she pays generously.’
    Eileen sniffed again and folded some sweaters roughly. The church hall was musty and smelt of old clothes. Motes of dust danced in the wedge of sunlight shining through the open door, but at least the building was cool. Eileen had no wish to discuss Gabrielle Milton.
    ‘Look at this top, we’ll get at least two pounds for it.’ Maureen put the knitted garment with its leather appliqué work on a hanger where it would be more prominent. ‘I don’t know what you’ve got against her, she’s quite nice really. Well, you should know that better than me, you see more of her.’
    Eileen’s face had reddened. Maureen decided to drop thesubject because she knew exactly what her sister’s problem was.
    Eileen Penrose’s husband, Jim, was dark-haired and handsome and his deep brown eyes hinted at seduction. Women were easy in his company; he teased them and made them laugh and they enjoyed the mild but meaningless flirtation. He was not unfaithful to Eileen, partly by choice but also because if he so much as propositioned another woman it would be all over the village before she had time to answer. Eileen had lived there all her life and must have known it, yet she carried her jealousy almost to the point of obsession.
    In early February, not long after the Miltons had moved in, Jim had been called out in his capacity as a heating engineer to make some adjustments to the central heating boiler. ‘You should see what they’ve done to the place,’ he told Eileen after that visit, ‘it’s terrific. Wood block hall and carpets up to your knees.’
    ‘What’s she like?’ Eileen wanted to know, interested only in the woman, not her possessions.
    ‘She’s a looker, I’ll say that for her. She could be on the telly.’
    That was enough for Eileen Penrose and when Mrs Milton rang a second time her lips were compressed with rage as she handed the telephone to Jim.
    Both Maureen and Jim had tried to reason with her, to explain that Mrs Milton’s needs were genuine. No work had been done on the heating system since it had been installed by the previous owners and several of the radiators were leaking where the joints had rusted. Maureen realised she would be wasting her breath explaining to her sister that women like Gabrielle Milton would not be interested in the likes of Jim Penrose.
    ‘She’s having a party, some sort of big posh do.’
    Maureen waited, smiling to herself, knowing how the game was played. If she asked any questions Eileen would clam up.
    ‘A week Saturday. All her London cronies, I suppose. She’s asked me to help out,’ Eileen volunteered.
    ‘What about Doreen?’
    ‘Oh, she’ll be there as well. One of us to serve drinks, theother to see to the food. Finger buffet, she calls it. Whatever that might mean.’
    ‘It’s a few extra pounds in your pocket.’ Maureen was unable to understand how Eileen could work for, and take money from, someone she so obviously despised. Maybe it was a way of keeping an eye on Gabrielle. She shrugged and glanced at her watch. ‘Come on, that’ll do for today. I could do with some fresh air.’
    Maureen locked the door and pocketed the key and told Eileen she’d pick her up at nine on Saturday morning when they could finish the last few bits.
     
    The salad was ready, the salmon brushed with oil ready to go under the grill. As Rose waited for the new potatoes to boil she was surprised to notice she was already half-way down the bottle of wine. She had better take it more slowly. The condensation on the bottle was no longer a mist but had gathered in droplets and run down the sides leaving a wet circle on the kitchen table.
    It’s the weather, she excused herself, although she was aware that it was more than that and that she was desperately trying to keep other thoughts at bay. The kitchen was stuffy with the heat from the cooker. She lowered the gas and took her drink outside. She felt the warmth retained in the metal bench