A Share in Death

“Please.” Gemma usually thanked god for a strong bladder —her job required downing more cups of tea than a vicar’s—but for once tea actually sounded appealing. Her 144 deborah grombie

early stop in Finchley had not even brought the offer.

 

“Fine,” Helen said. “I’ll just be putting the kettle on.”

The faint sing-song in the woman’s voice had grown more pronounced with her last words. “You’re Irish,” Gemma said, making it a statement.

“County Cork.” Helen smiled. “I try not to sound fresh from the bog, but it has a way of slipping through on its own when I’m not paying attention. Would you believe,” she tousled her son’s ginger curls, “he gets his hair from his dad, and me Irish?”

“And my son,” answered Gemma, “has hair as fair and straight as a Dane’s.” They laughed, common ground firmly established.

“Maybe that’s why Eddie Lyle doesn’t like me,” Helen said as she set Gemma’s cup before her and seated herself opposite. “Doesn’t consider being Irish quite the thing. He’s ex-service, though you wouldn’t think it to look at him. Served in Northern Ireland and he lumps all the Irish together as a bad lot.

“Or maybe it’s because my husband works for the builder.” Her finger made a quick circular gesture, indicating the housing estate. “I don’t know where he gets off being such a snob. His parents owned an off-license in the old town. Perfectly respectable, but Janet says he doesn’t like it mentioned. If you ask me, the man has a slate off and one sliding.”

Under Helen North’s chatter Gemma detected more than a spark of malice. Edward Lyle must have snubbed her pretty thoroughly. “How did you and Janet get to be friends?”

“We’re the only two women on the street who stay at home. You get desperate for some adult conversation.” She cocked her head and looked thoughtfully at Gemma. “Sometimes I envy women like you, out in the real world with the grownups.”

“Probably not as much as 1 envy you,” answered Gemma. She touched the wandering baby’s hair and he gurgled at her.

“Well, it was my choice, after all, to stay at home and make do with a bit less. I shouldn’t grouse. But Janet,

 

A share in death 145

 

now, that was a different story. He wouldn’t let her work, not even when her Chloe went to school. Didn’t think it fitting, I ask you! And she trained as a nurse. God, what a waste.”