Waiting for Wednesday

But it’s typical of her. She always remembered birthdays and
anniversaries and stuff like that.’
    ‘Mr Lennox –’
    ‘I did forget my cousin’s
birthday, of course. It was yesterday and I didn’t remember until now.’
    ‘That’s understandable.’
    ‘I suppose so.’ His tone was
dull.
    Jennifer Wall said that Ruth had been the
perfect neighbour, friendly without being nosy, always ready to lend eggs or sugar or
milk, even nice when one of her boys had kicked a football through the Lennoxes’
kitchen window.
    Sue Leadbetter remembered the time, not long
ago, when Ruth had taken care of her while she’d had flu – bringing Lemsip and loo
paper to the house, even getting papers and magazines for her.
    Gaby Ford said she used to meet Ruth almost
every morning when they both left for work. They would greet each other and sometimes
exchange a few words. Ruth had a way, she said, of putting one arm on her shoulder for a
few minutes, which she had always appreciated. She was often in a bit of a rush but she
was always cheerful, and it was no different during the days leading to her death.
She’d never known her down in the dumps or hung-over. They were such a nice
family. A close family. You didn’t come across that so much nowadays.
    Jodie Daniels, one of her oldest friends,
had seen her at the weekend. They had gone to the garden centre together and then had
coffee. Ruth was just normal – unaffected, interested in other people, a bit concerned
that Judith wasn’t working properly for her GCSEs. They had talked about whether
or not she should dye her hair now that it was rapidly turning grey and Ruth had decided
she wouldn’t. She had said she wanted to grow old gracefully. Oh, God.
    Graham Walters had bumped into Ruth’s
car, two days before she died, and scraped it. She had been incredibly understanding,
which was typical. That was the last time he had seen her.
    She had bent down and stroked Elspeth
Weaver’s dog the morning of her death, then got into her car.
    She had reversed down the road to make way
for Robert Morgan, driving in the opposite direction.
    She had phoned that morning from work and
told Juliet Melchett that she and Russell would love to come to the Melchetts’
party.
    At eleven a.m., also from work, she had
ordered a bunch of flowers from John Lewis to be sent to Russell’s aunt, who had
broken her hip.
    But none of those people had gone round
there and pushed a note through the door.
    However, with Dawn Wilmer, who lived two
streets away and whose eldest son was in the same class as Ruth’s youngest
daughter, they finally struck lucky. She recognized the note as hers.
    ‘You pushed this through her
door?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘On the day she died.’
    ‘Wednesday. Yes. Should I have said? I
mean, I spoke to an officer and said I hadn’t seen anything suspicious, and I
thought I said I was round by her house earlier, but perhaps I didn’t. I mean, I
didn’t go in or anything. I didn’t see anything strange or
suspicious.’
    ‘What time would this have
been?’
    ‘I don’t know, just after four.
Before four thirty, anyway. I’m sure of that because Danny – that’s my son –
comes home late that day and I knew Dora did as well. That was why Ruth suggested I go
round for tea – we didn’t know each other that well. I’m quite new in the
neighbourhood and my son’s only just started at the school. It was nice of
her.’
    ‘So – you went round for tea, as
arranged, and she wasn’t there.’
    ‘She was there. She just didn’t
come to the door.’
    ‘Why do you say that?’
    ‘Her car was there. All the lights
were on.’
    ‘Did you wait for a long
time?’
    ‘A minute or so, no more. I knocked
and rang the bell – I even shouted through the letterbox. I didn’t have my phone
with me so I couldn’t call her and that was why I pushed the note
through.’
    ‘Between four and half past four, you
say?’
    ‘After four and before four
thirty.’ The woman’s face wrinkled anxiously. ‘Do you think – is it
possible – that she was in there dead?’
    ‘We’re just trying to establish
timings,’ said Yvette, neutrally. ‘You’re sure you didn’t see
anything unusual?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘And you stood at the door for about a
minute?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You saw no broken window? Next to the
front door.’
    ‘No. I’m sure I would have
noticed that.’
    ‘All right. Thank you very much for
your help.’
    Billy Hunt dragged the back of his