Who Saw Him Die? Read Free Page B

dull. Now I’ve seen how well you’ve settled, though, I’ve stopped worrying.’
    Jack turned his empty egg shell upside down in the cup, and bashed the other end for good measure. ‘So there’s your answer, my dear,’ he concluded cheerfully. ‘Is that a letter from young Matthew you’ve got there? How’s he settling down?’
    â€˜Very well, by the sound of things. He seems so much happier than when he was a day boy at the City of London School, with all that pressure from his father to do as well as he did when he was there. Matthew always longed to go to boarding school, and it was such a good suggestion of yours to let him finish his education at Saxted.’
    â€˜I could just as easily have afforded Eton, if that was what you’d wanted,’ her husband reminded her. His knowledge of public schools was confined to the names of Eton and the one nearest to Breckham Market, Saxted College. In his opinion, they were of equal standing.
    Felicity smiled at him fondly. ‘I know, Jack. You’re so very generous. But Saxted was a better idea. I prefer Matthew to be no more than twenty miles away from us, and out of reach of his father. You know how bitterly Austin resented my being given custody …’ She shuddered at the recollection of her divorce proceedings, then looked again at her son’s letter. ‘He asks after you, by the way.’
    â€˜Does he?’ said Jack eagerly. He was anxious to be liked by the boy because he knew that Felicity adored her only child.
    She passed her husband the page of hasty scrawl and indicated the final paragraph: How’s Jack? Don’t let him forget that he promised to take me shooting in the Christmas holidays!
    â€˜I haven’t forgotten,’ said Matthew’s stepfather with pleasure. He’d always wanted a son to pass on his skills to. ‘And, let’s see, won’t he soon be seventeen?’
    â€˜Next March.’
    â€˜Right, then it’s time he learned to drive. Tell you what, my dear, I’ll buy him a car for Christmas –’
    â€˜Jack!’
    â€˜Only a banger, but a reliable one. I know a farmer who’s got some private roads on his land, and I can teach the boy how to handle the car there before he’s officially old enough to drive. Then he can take the test and get his full licence as soon as he’s seventeen.’
    â€˜Oh Jack – and you’ve only just bought him a computer! You really mustn’t spoil him.’ Felicity paused, then looked anxiously apologetic. ‘He didn’t ask you for a car, I hope? I heard him telling you, when he was here at half-term, that he’d already applied for a provisional licence.’
    â€˜Ah, that was so’s he could take part in a course on motor bike riding. He certainly didn’t ask me for any transport – but I can remember well enough what it was like to be young! A boy of his age needs some wheels of his own, and a car’s a lot safer than a motor bike.’
    Her eyes bright with affection, Felicity stretched her hand across the table. ‘You are so kind.’
    â€˜â€™s not kindness,’ Jack said. ‘I reckon it must be love.’ He reached out and took her hand, clasping it warmly and sighing with happiness. ‘By God, I’m a lucky man …’

Chapter Three
    In Jack Goodrum’s former marital home, not far from Ipswich, breakfast was a more mobile occasion.
    The residents of Factory Bungalow saw no point in getting up at any particular time. There was nothing to get up for. Doreen Goodrum and her daughters Sharon and Tracey had had no occupation in the two years since the family business was sold. Ever since Jack had left them, they had spent their mornings wandering aimlessly about the bungalow in their nightwear, eating and drinking as they went.
    They felt no inclination to do more than a scant minimum of housework. Factory Bungalow had