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from all over. Actors get work where they can, I reckon. They usually get lodgings near to where they’re based. I expect this lot are to do with the repertory theatre in Tresham.”
    “Very likely. This chap was very friendly. Fancy dresser. Well, I suppose that’s part of being in the theatre.”
    “We’ll probably go to the show, Elsie and me. Why don’t you come too, Josie? They’re always worth seeing. Anyway, I’ll go up and see Elsie; then I must run. It’s the institute this afternoon, and I’m doing teas. Now, have you got any raspberry jam? I need it for my sponge cake. Remind me about the play.”
    *
    The Fiat gathered speed and flew up the long hill into Waltonby, its twin turbo engine making a sound more like a Ferrari as it zoomed to a halt outside the village pub. Justin Brookes got out with difficulty, unfolding his long legs as he stepped out onto the pavement. He stretched his arms above his head, took several deep breaths, and turned to go into the pub. Then he stopped. He had forgotten his fliers, and turned back.
    The publican saw him, and smiled. It was the chap from the theatre lot. It’d be their play coming round again. “Mildred! It’s Justin Brookes! You know, the actor from the rep troupe. He’s always good for a free ticket. Come on through.”
    Mildred came into the bar, wiping her wet hands. “Oh Justin,” she said. “Your usual?” She put a half of bitter in front of him, and smiled. “What’s this one about, then? Ooh,
The Black Hand Mystery
! Sounds good. We’ll go, shall we, me duck?”
    Justin slid his beer money across the counter, together with a flier and a couple of tickets. “Next Monday,” he said. “Best day for you? Two for the price of one, as it’s my favourite pub. Like the car? Present from my uncle. Mind you, it means I don’t do much walking!”
    “You’d do well to sell that snazzy little vehicle, and get yourself a bicycle,” said the publican. “Rushing round the countryside like a bat out of hell! We can hear you coming a mile off. No, only laughing. I reckon acting is quite a physical job? We shall look forward to the play.”
    “You could be right about the cycling. But how could I part with the Fiat? She would be heartbroken, and give up the ghost. Her wheels would never move again!”
    “Bollocks,” said publican Paul, and pushed a packet of crisps across the bar counter to Justin’s waiting hand.
    *
    “Did you notice his watch?” said Mildred, after they had seen Justin drive away with a roar.
    Paul shook his head. “No, I was busy. Why?”
    “Very expensive. A Rolex, I reckon. Family money, more than likely. Nice chap, though. Did you pay him for the tickets?”
    “One,” said Paul. “And he paid me for the crisps.”

Eight

    B y the time evening came, L ois realised that G ran was not coming back. S he had left a delicious salmon salad for their supper, with a note saying she would see them at breakfast tomorrow.
    “It’s not right, her being down there and us on our own in this big house,” said Lois. “After all, when we bought this place it was so’s it would have room for the kids and Mum. Look at us! Sitting here at one end of this great kitchen table.”
    “So what do you suggest, me duck? Moving to a smaller house and selling this one? We’d get a decent price for it now I’ve done all the improvements. Or we could get a smaller table?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I shall get used to it. Let’s talk about something else. Did you get the eggs I asked you to collect from the shop?”
    “Yep. Josie was there, and Gran came down to say hello. She looked very cheerful, and said she was expecting a friend for supper. Josie said that a smart-looking character had been into the shop, bringing fliers for the Tresham theatre company’s next performance in our village hall. He seemed interested in the flat, she said. Introduced himself as Justin something or other.”
    “Ah, that chap who comes round every year with