He wasn’t the tall, handsome, confident figure she’d imagined herself with. Indeed, there were times when he seemed to shrink into the background, but she’d also seen a different, energised, and at ease side of him when he played his violin, or fiddle as he termed it.
And he was compassionate, and kind, and understanding. And interesting. What else could she want in a man?
And who else would, or was, doing so much to help her in her current situation? It was clear from those dark circles under his eyes that he was worried and that he’d been working hard to establish exactly what had poisoned her.
And it was as innocuous as a couple of teaspoons of hot sauce eaten with an omelette at Mill House.
Sujin returned to the ward with a grim expression. “The Cirencester Hospital lab has confirmed that the toxin in Daisy’s blood matches yours. So she also died of botulism or botulinum poisoning.”
“Can you tell from the blood sample if we were poisoned by the same source?”
“Scientifically, no. But surely the coincidence is too much? How many other sources of Clostridium botulinum bacteria are out there?”
Keya shuddered. She didn’t like to speculate and knew she wouldn’t be tasting any sauces or pickles at the deli for a while.
Then she remembered part of her conversation with Theo over lunch. “Theo said Daisy only occasionally had the sauce. Usually he had it. So why was he not affected, and Daisy was?”
“That’s something our colleagues will need to discover.”
“Oh, no!”
“What?” asked Sujin.
“We could be looking at the possibility that Doreen poisoned her own daughter. She’ll be devastated.” At least Keya thought she would. She remembered the stricken look and the cry of grief when Doreen arrived at the standing stones early on midsummer morning.
But why had she been there so early? She said she’d heard about her daughter’s death in the village, but she lived alone, outside the main part of the village. So how did she know about it, and why was she up and about so early?
“That would be terrible,” Sujin agreed. “A mother accidentally poisoning her own daughter.”
Sujin was still in the ward when the orderly arrived and handed out Sunday lunch. He took one look at the mush under her chrome plate cover and whisked her away to the Blue Spa Restaurant in the oldest part of the hospital. Her creamy mushroom fettuccine with salad was a vast improvement on the food provided in the ward and she tucked in with enthusiasm.
“Why can’t we get something like this on the wards?” she mumbled through a mouthful of pasta. She swallowed and continued, “Then I’d understand why we’re only served a light sandwich supper.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Sujin smiled at her before biting into his toasted panini.
When they’d both finished, Keya felt full and tired. She said, “Thank you for that, and there’s no need to bring me anything tonight. I can manage with the hospital sandwiches and all the snacks everyone has brought me. Not a single grape, though. What does that tell you?”
“That your friends and family know you well. Would you still like me to visit?”
“I would, but you need your rest as well. I think you’ll have a busy start to the week.”
After Sujin left, Keya settled herself onto her bed and flicked through Dotty’s cookbook until Laura appeared for her afternoon physio session.
This time they left the ward and went to Laura’s rehabilitation gym where Keya was subjected to more squats, and dumbbell raises with her right hand. When they returned to the ward, Inspector Evans, wearing his on-duty brown suit, and a uniformed Constable Warren Sparrow, were beside her bed. The inspector was sitting in a chair sipping from a grey plastic cup and flicking through one of her magazines.
Warren was staring out of the window when she entered, but he turned when the Inspector said, “It’s a relief to see you up and about.”
“Thanks. I’ve just been worked hard by my physio. My legs will be stronger when I leave than when I came in, and my right arm is nearly back to normal.”
Again, nobody mentioned her limp left arm, which hung uselessly as she climbed onto her bed and propped herself up on her pillows.
“So, to what do I owe this visit?” she asked, flippantly.
“We need to conduct a formal interview with respect to your poisoning,” replied the inspector.
“Yes, of course,” Keya replied contritely.
“Tea, luv?” asked an orderly carrying a grey plastic cup and saucer.
“Yes, please.” Keya took the cup and noticed the biscuits sitting on the saucer. A packet of Scottish shortbread.
“And would you like a top up, Inspector?”
“I wouldn’t say no. Thank you.”
Warren wasn’t asked if he wanted anything.
When they were settled with their refreshments, Inspector Evans cleared his throat and began, “Tell me what happened, in your own words, on the day you visited Mill House and made lunch for yourself and Theo Watson.”
Even though she’d written up a report about the visit, Keya recounted everything as best she could, including the conversation over lunch with Theo.
“So Mr Watson didn’t have any of the hot sauce?”
“No, he chose the tomato chutney.”
“But he did eat it on other occasions?” pressed the inspector.
