Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

Aye, and that’s got her attention right enough. ‘Although it’s mainly our Solihull branch features in the programme.’

She’s nodding along, pound signs dancing across her fucking eyeballs.

‘It’s Ruth Innes we’re looking for,’ I goes.

It’s pure comical so it is – the trip to the Canaries and the new smart TV gone for a Burton.

‘The last address we have for her is 24 Turner Drive,’ goes Connor.

I says, ‘There’s a monetary reward for information that allows us to trace an heir. Any information you can provide about Ruth Innes or her family could qualify.’

‘Oh? What kind of… monetary reward would you be talking about?’

Connor opens the folder he’s got with him and makes like he’s checking. ‘Given the value of the estate, we’d be looking at a sum in the region of one thousand three hundred pounds.’

She’s back interested. ‘Well, I don’t know if what I can tell you would be of any help…’

‘You’d be surprised. Mrs…?’ I smile.

‘Campbell. Jean Campbell.’

‘Would you like to talk to us now, or…’

‘Yes, that’s fine. Please come in.’

She shuts the dug up somewhere ben the house and comes back in the front room with a tray with mugs and biscuits. Connor’s got the form he printed out last night, and he sits there on the Parker Knoll and starts reading out questions – name, date of birth, all that shite, then it’s, ‘Do you have a current address for Ruth Innes?’

Wifie: ‘No, I’m afraid not. After her mother died and the bungalow was sold, I didn’t see Ruth again.’

Me: ‘Did you know the family well when they lived next door?’

Wifie: ‘Not to say well , but she was a good neighbour, Liz Innes, especially after my husband died. We’d have morning coffee together now and then, and go for the odd walk.’

There’s something she’s no saying. There’s something here right enough.

Connor: ‘And did you see much of her daughter Flora?’

The wee diddy. ‘You mean Ruth, Kenneth.’ I roll my eyes at the wifie. ‘I think you’re getting mixed up with Flora Adams from a previous case.’

‘Oh aye. Aye. Sorry, Maw.’

Fucking hell.

‘Susan,’ he goes, a right beamer on him.

I shake my head and give a wee giggle. ‘They call me “Ma” in the office because I’m always asking if they had enough for breakfast and telling them to wipe their feet – and this one’s getting a clip round the ear in a minute! Ha ha ha!’

Wifie smiles, but like she’s thinking Eh…?

‘So,’ I goes. ‘Did you see much of Ruth?’

Wifie: ‘No, Ruth wasn’t home much. She was at boarding school, you see, and then university.’

‘So they weren’t close, then, Mrs Innes and her daughter?’

Wifie sucks in her cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t say they were close, no. It was odd, actually – I always thought it was odd that she hardly ever mentioned Ruth. I’m always blethering on about my two boys and the grandchildren, you can’t shut me up, but Liz – if you asked her how Ruth was doing, she’d just smile and say, “Oh fine,” and change the subject.’

I knew it! I fucking knew it!

‘She was a cold woman in a way. Perfectly nice, but… not much warmth to her. On the few occasions Ruth was home, I never saw them go out together to the shops or anything. They seemed to live very much separate lives, which I thought was sad. Ruth was a lovely girl. She used to take Molly – my old Westie, Dee-Dee’s great-grandmother – for walks, and she’d come in and feed her and cuddle her and groom her. Lovely. I wondered – even before the accident, I mean – I wondered if maybe Liz was depressed.’

I goes, ‘This is the accident with the milk float you’re talking about?’

Wifie: ‘Awful. It really was. I saw it happen, you know. I was potting up plants at the front door… Primroses, I think. No – no, it was pansies. Liz was crossing the street – the milk float had been parked at the kerb, but then it started reversing. Liz – she seemed rooted to the spot. I shouted at her and dropped a pot onto the slabs, and it smashed, and then the milk float hit her and she went under the wheels. She could have got out of the way, but she didn’t even seem to try. I almost got the impression – as I said at the time – I almost got the impression that she couldn’t be bothered moving. I know that sounds ridiculous, but the way she just stood there sort of slumped… As if she was in a daze…’

Connor: ‘That must have been hard for Ruth.’

Wifie: ‘Oh, terrible. But I had to speak out, you see, at the fatal accident inquiry, for the sake of the poor driver. Yes, he should have looked in his mirrors before he started reversing, but it wasn’t as if she couldn’t have got out of the way.’

I goes, ‘So what you’re saying is that it was… to all intents and purposes… suicide by milk float?’

Connor snorts.

Wifie gives him evils. ‘You could almost say that. The driver was convicted of dangerous driving nevertheless – got a few months in prison, poor man. He was devastated.’

‘He must have been,’ I goes.

‘Hell of a thing to happen.’ Connor makes like he’s consulting his notes. ‘And Liz and Ruth came to live next door when?’

‘Oh – it would have been about 1983, I suppose.’

‘They moved here from Australia, aye?’

‘Well.’ Wifie purses her lips. ‘That was their story. Liz had an Australian accent, yes, just a slight one. But Ruth didn’t. And when I would ask Ruth about Australia, she used to contradict what Liz had told me. About where they lived in Sydney, for one thing – Liz told me they lived in a suburb a lot like on Neighbours , and when they left to come to the UK, there was even a street party in the cul-de-sac to wish them bon voyage , but when I asked Ruth later if she enjoyed watching Neighbours because it reminded her of her old home – this was when Neighbours had just started and everyone was watching it – she said, “Oh, but we lived in a flat in the city, it was nothing like Neighbours .” I told her that Liz had said they did live in a similar suburb, and you could see her thinking fast, and then she came out with, “I was too young to remember – we moved to the city when I was five.” But Liz had told me they had that street party in the cul-de-sac when they left for the UK. That’s when I knew they weren’t telling the whole truth about it. And there were things Ruth didn’t know about Australia – like where Darwin was. Any child growing up in Australia would know that, surely?’

‘Aye,’ I goes, ‘that’s a bit strange. So you think maybe Liz was Australian but Ruth was brought up somewhere else?’

‘That was my suspicion. Although why they’d lie about it, I don’t know.’

Aye, that was the question all right. That was the fucking question.

‘Well, this is all very useful information, Mrs Campbell. Thank you.’ I goes to stand up.

‘And the monetary…?’

‘We’ll be in touch if the information you’ve provided facilitates the location of Ruth Innes,’ goes Connor.

‘And before we go,’ I says, ‘would it be possible to use your lavatory?’

‘I don’t think Edith will want to come, though,’ said Beckie through a mouthful of muesli.

Flora took a swallow of tea. ‘Well, maybe if you ask her really nicely, she will.’

‘I’m already giving her like half my lunch and she still hardly speaks to me.’

‘Beckie, you do realise that your own lunch is exactly the same size as ever? I hope you have been giving the extra food to Edith, and not eating it yourself.’