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“I don’t suppose I will ever find out now,” she whispered.
“Don’t blame yourself. I am sure that whatever happened to Sally to take her life there was nothing you could have done,” her father assured her. “Best not to think about it, eh?”
But Clementine did think about it. Even when she tried not to think about it, she found herself thinking about it. She tried to do something to keep herself occupied, but nothing felt right, especially when she found herself sitting down in the swing seat in the garden later that day. Clementine began making the lists she should have been drawing up with Sally and was once again reminded of what she should have done that day.
“This is wrong,” Clementine hissed, slapping the parchment onto the bench seat beside her in disgust. “This is so wrong.”
She knew, deep in her gut, that something was not quite right about Sally’s death, only had no idea what caused that feeling, or why she should suspect there had been foul play of some kind.
“I need to go and see for myself,” she whispered.
She studied the paper beside her but had no interest in writing anything more. Instead, her attention was locked firmly on the single key tucked away in the back of the kitchen drawer; the key to Sally’s house.
“She wouldn’t mind me going in if she was here. I am sure she won’t mind me going in now she has gone.” The instant that Clementine said that aloud she made the decision that she would go and check Sally’s house before she went to see how Dotty was. Then, well-
Then I shall just have to take it from there and see what happens, won’t I?
CHAPTER TWO
Clementine fetched the key to Sally’s house and left the house. She hurried down the narrow country lane toward the village and Sally’s house nestled within it.
The small, two storey property was neatly painted; the curtains closed in a display of respect for the dead. All was still and quiet. Cautiously, Clementine let herself in through the front gate, and wandered slowly along the narrow path leading to the front door. There was no movement inside the house, but Clementine had the distinct feeling that something was wrong. It was difficult to know what caused the acute sense of disquiet that settled over her. At first glance, the house looked the same as it always had; neatly tended and peaceful. Now, though, there was a somewhat eerie feel to the place. It was odd because there was no reason why it should be there. Nothing had essentially changed except Sally no longer lived there. That was no reason why Clementine should feel so uneasy, but she did. She got the distinct impression that she was being watched even though there was nobody around. The nearest neighbour, Mrs Saunders, wasn’t anywhere near her sitting room windows, and even if she was there was no reason why she wouldn’t wave as usually did when they saw each other.
“It’s odd but I truly feel as if I am being watched by someone inside Sally’s house. Maybe it is the doctor?”
It felt odd to approach the front door and not see her friend’s merry face appear in the side window next to the front door, peering out at her before she scurried through the house to yank the door open before Clementine reached it. Still, Clementine removed the key from her pocket and, after a swift look around the still and silent garden, let herself into the house.
The first thing that hit her was the cold. As if waiting for her to arrive, it settled its chilly cloak around her and snatched all vestige of warmth from Clementine’s flesh the instant she crossed the threshold. With no fires having been lit today, a distinct dampness had settled in the air. It made Clementine’s breath fog out before her whenever she puffed out her cheeks, like she found herself doing as she closed the front door only to find herself encased in an eerie silence. She stood with her back to the door for a moment and studied the hallway. Slowly, Clementine tugged her thick shawl tighter around her shoulders and held it together with her numbed fingers as she contemplated what to do. With a deeply fortifying breath, she eventually gathered the courage to wander through the house.
“First, I will check that everything is all right,” she whispered only to then realise just how alone and isolated she felt.
Sucking in another breath, Clementine forced herself to remain quiet as she made her way through the property, poking her head into each room to make sure that everything remained undisturbed. Rather than upset her, as she expected it to do, Clementine contemplated what was bothering her, and it wasn’t grief. It was a little disconcerting that she had already started to look for signs of a struggle, although why she had no idea why she should feel the need to do so.
“If there had been any signs of a struggle the vicar would have told me,” she whispered.
More troubled than ever, Clementine made her way upstairs to Sally’s bed chamber, which was just as neat and tidy as the rest of the house. Someone had removed the sheets and folded them neatly at the end of the bed leaving the bed unmade. The shutters had been drawn back a little but only to allow enough daylight into the room for the various professionals to be able to go about their duties.
“It’s as Sally always left it,” Clementine murmured, a little bothered by why she should even begin to contemplate that it might not be.
Something is odd. I can feel it.
At the door, Clementine turned to study the room with a more critical eye. Everything on the dresser sat in precisely symmetrical positions, displayed to impress while they waited for the mistress of the house to return. The cupboard doors were closed with no clothing poking out. The chair and small table beside the bed were both devoid of any small trinkets or accessories. While she tried to make out what unnerved her, Clementine ran through what Sally might have done once she had left her.
“The vicar said that Sally had died sometime yesterday evening,” Clementine whispered.
With that in mind, Clementine had no idea why she was looking in the bed chamber. It was hardly likely that Sally had gone to bed a little after six when she had left her, yet Clementine knew that if Sally had fallen ill, she might have taken to her bed.
To her consternation, Sally’s neatly folded night-gown was draped over the back of an armchair in the corner of the room. Clementine turned to look at the hooks on the back of the door only to find Sally’s dressing gown still hanging up. Further, Sally’s slippers were positioned quite precisely beneath the same chair her night-gown still rested on. They weren’t next to the bed where Clementine would have expected Sally to leave them had she gone to bed early.
“Did you go to bed dressed?” Clementine whispered. “Where are all of your clothes, Sally?”
If she took them off
then they wouldn’t be put away, wouldn’t they? Despite a small voice warning Clementine that Sally might have decided to lie down while still fully dressed, Clementine bent over. Her frown grew heavy when she found Sally’s boots beneath the bed where Sally usually kept them.
“Well, you weren’t wearing your boots, but why would you if you went to bed?” Clementine whispered.
Having been the last person to see Sally alive, Clementine began to rummage through Sally’s drawers for the clothing she knew Sally had been wearing.
