‘I know. But I didn’t tell her that.’
Harry gave a snort. ‘And anyway, it’s none of her business.’
‘That’s right. It’s not.’
A pause followed and Mary thought about her brother-in-law. Could he have harmed Miller?
‘Uncle Tom would never take a life,’ said her son, as if reading her thoughts.
‘No. He wouldn’t.’
‘He would hurt someone. And he would hurt him a lot. But he wouldn’t take a life.’
‘I agree, Harry.’
‘He could have scared him off, though.’
‘He might have done.’
‘Maybe that’s what happened.’
‘Maybe. But if anyone asks you questions about it, you know nothing about it. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Of course. I don’t know what Uncle Tom did, so I can’t speak for him.’
‘Exactly right.’ She stepped over to him and patted him on the shoulder. ‘You need to get on your way.’
‘I don’t like it when people come round asking questions.’
‘Neither do I, Harry.’
‘Mrs Peel must think someone in this family did something to Miller.’
‘Well, they didn’t. So she shouldn’t think that.’
‘It makes no difference though, does it, Mum? People always suspect us. Even when we’ve done nothing wrong.’
She nodded. ‘That’s true enough.’
‘So what if the police get involved?’
‘They won’t, Harry. It was ten years ago.’
‘That didn’t stop Mrs Peel calling round, did it? If the police start asking us questions now, then we’re for it.’
‘We’ve done nothing wrong, Harry.’
‘Even Uncle Tom?’
‘I can’t speak for him.’
‘You need to warn him, Mum.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. He won’t like it.’
‘Better that he hears it from you than Mrs Peel or the police.’
Mary’s stomach gave a turn. ‘You’re right, Harry.’
Chapter 19
Augusta decided to work on the pile of books in her workshop after her visit to Finchley. She examined the copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel which had been left in the box of donated books.
Someone had doodled stick figures on the pages in pencil. Hopefully, the drawings could be removed with a piece of India rubber. The cover was a little faded and in need of a clean. It was otherwise in good condition. Augusta made herself comfortable on a stool at her workbench and began to erase the drawings. She smiled as she carefully rubbed out the little stick people. Someone had clearly entertained themselves on a rainy afternoon by drawing them on the pages. The pencil marks came away quite easily, but she had to work carefully to make sure she didn’t damage the page.
Augusta wondered who had drawn the picture and what they had been thinking about at the time. It was going to take a long time to erase all the little stick figures in the book. But she didn’t mind. She found the tedium of the work quite calming.
Fred said goodbye to Augusta once he had closed the shop for the day. Augusta worked on and lost track of time. It was eight o’clock when she realised she and Sparky needed to eat.
She was just leaving the shop with Sparky when she saw Philip strolling towards her, leaning on his stick for support.
‘You’ve only just finished, Augusta?’
‘I’ve been repairing some books.’
‘Did you finish many?’
‘Yes. Three. You’ve had a long day.’
