Hilda folded her arms. ‘The security light outside the annexe. Someone’s changed the angle of it. It used to flood the whole back path and now it’s lighting up nothing but the hedge. Absolutely useless. And it didn’t move itself, that’s for sure.’
‘Hmm.’ Rita felt her stomach tighten. ‘Are you one hundred per cent sure?’
Hilda gave her a look. ‘I used to work in Customs, you know. After I’d finished flashing my feathers as a showgirl in Monte Carlo.’ She winked. ‘That’s how I got the job. Some bigwig took a shine to me, and suddenly I’m waving things through that’d make your eyes water.’ She shrugged, utterly unapologetic. ‘Gold watches. Designer handbags. The odd suspicious parcel. Well-rewarded, naturally.’
‘Hilda!’ Rita was wide-eyed, but a strange new respect stirred inside her.
‘Nothing gets past me. Someone’s been round that annexe. And I don’t like it.’
‘I checked the Ring camera before and put it down to maybe the figure you saw being the delivery driver – I, err… put those boxes on your kitchen table.’
‘I saw, thanks.’
‘We need to check again, in case you saw who moved the light.’
Hilda gave her a look. ‘Already done. And do you know what I saw?’ She leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Nothing. Because whoever it was is clever. Or thinks they are.
‘Which is why,’ Hilda continued, producing her handbag with a flourish, and pulling out a brown envelope of cash, ‘we need more cameras. And before you protest, I insist on paying for them myself. Consider it done.’ She placed the money on the kitchen table.
‘I’m not sure what people would want to steal from here.’ Rita’s forehead crinkled.
‘If money’s tight’ – Hilda reached for her cigarette case – ‘it does terrible things to some people. If your family needs to be fed, if the rent’s due, well… that is the kind of pressure that makes them bold. Makes them desperate. Right. I need to unpack. Stan will know what to do with the security.’
Hilda went to the door, turned, and looked Rita up and down. ‘You’re getting chubby, Rita. Get a grip, girl; you don’t want middle age creeping up on you before your time.’
Struck speechless, Rita made a weird noise from her throat.
‘And the Jenken,’ Hilda pressed on. ‘Have you seen him?’
Rita hesitated. ‘It’s… complicated.’
Hilda stepped outside and lit a cigarette. ‘Complicated! It sounds simple to me. He’s got a tart in tow at Hawthorn Acre! Like father, like bloody son, I say.’ Her voice wobbled slightly, just enough for her own pang of memory to reveal itself in words, ‘Oh, how I loved my Ralphy… until that business with Jago’s mother.’ She fixed Rita with a hard glare. ‘Ditch him, Rita. He won’t change. Not in a million years.’
Rita swallowed. ‘It’s not like that, I don’t think.’
‘So… what’s his excuse?’ Hilda’s eyes narrowed, cruel and unflinching.
‘She’s been chucked out. Has no money. Nothing. Not a bean.’
‘And you believe that?’
Rita’s voice softened. ‘As much as it irks me, I do think he is just being kind.’
Hilda took a long drag of her cigarette. ‘Kind? Well. It’s your rodeo, love. Fight if you like, but don’t waste years doing it. Life’s too short, and frankly, some people aren’t worth the bruises.’
With the whirlwind of her mother-in-law back in her annexe, Rita sank into a chair and pulled the scans out of her bag. She was just about to have a good look at them when her phone buzzed.
A text from Jago:
Hurrah. She’s gone… come over. I’ve got cake xx
Relief ran right through her body, warm and fizzing, melting away the constant tension she had been feeling lately.
Kelly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a towel wrapped like a turban around her head. ‘I overheard her saying you’re looking fat. I had to laugh.’
‘I think she will internally combust if I tell her it’s not a food baby but two real Jenken babies. And talking of food…’ A huge smile took over Rita’s face. ‘Jago has messaged, she’s gone, and he has cake.’
‘It would take more than a Victoria sponge to win me over.’ Kelly looked thoughtful for a second. ‘Actually… maybe not.’
