“I’ll have to have some of this asparagus,” said a brightly clad figure, leaning over the rack of vegetables in a shaded section outside the deli. Keya knew from the voice and the bright yellow tunic top with purple flowers that the figure was Gilly’s aunt, who everyone affectionally called Aunt Beanie.
Keya’s youngest sister by fifteen years, Maitri, who ran the deli, said, “It’s high quality even though it has to be sold as wonky. Apparently, the packing machine rejects anything that isn’t a uniform size or shape, because the supermarkets won’t accept it.”
“Nature doesn’t make things in uniform shapes and sizes,” protested Aunt Beanie, “Even though you and your sisters would qualify as you’re all thin and attractive.”
“Thank you,” responded Keya as she joined them.
Aunt Beanie looked up. She was wearing her trademark headscarf, which was purple today and tied with a huge bow at a jaunty angle on top of her head, holding back her long, grey hair. She was a tall, willowy figure with a forthright manner.
“What’s Gilly doing?” asked Keya in a concerned voice.
“Grounding herself, literally,” Aunt Beanie replied as Gilly toppled over from yet another attempt at a one-legged pose. “She’s worried about turning fifty at the end of the month and is having an existential midlife crisis. I suggested that as summer has finally arrived, she should embrace nature, but I’m a little concerned about where that will lead.” She tilted her head as she watched her niece.
Gilly was not one of nature’s uniform figures. Not only did she have ringlets of bright orange hair, which clashed with her orange-framed glasses, she was definitely erring on the overweight side. But, Keya considered, when did Gilly have time to look after herself?
She was always busy sorting out some problem or welcoming a new trader to the antique centre. And she had two teenage children, Thomas and Olivia, and her husband, Peter, often worked antisocial hours as the area’s local doctor.
Gilly saw them all staring at her and her face coloured, clashing with her hair. She called over, “I have to start somewhere!”
“How about with a cup of tea?” Keya called back. “We really need to discuss summer opening times and any special events for the cafe or antique centre.”
“Oh, good idea.” Gilly stepped into her shoes and walked across the grass to join them.
Keya removed the loaf of bread from its brown paper bag and said, “And we should try this. There’s a new bakery in Lower Rollright, associated with the Stone Circle flour mill.”
Maitri squeezed the loaf. “Firm, but not too much. Would they deliver? Lower Rollright is too far to go for bread.”
“I think so, but probably not every day,” Keya considered. “I’ll cut you a slice and you can try it, but now I need to sit down with Gilly. Is there anything you want to raise with respect to the deli?”
Maitri looked towards Keya’s police car and said, “The designated parking is already having a positive impact. When will the new signs arrive?”
“Next week,” Gilly confirmed.
“How’s the coffee machine?” asked Keya.
“It’s great. And as we offer a discount if people use reusable cups rather than takeaway ones, we’ve sold quite a few waterwheel-branded thermal cups,” Maitri replied. “And I chased up The Smiling Cow. They’re a bit behind, but we should have our ice cream display and their stock by next week.”
“That’s good news,” Keya replied.
“The whole enterprise is very innovative,” declared Aunt Beanie. “And I love your new vegetable rack and the pre-packed local meats. It means I can pop in and buy everything I need for a meal. It’s not just the luxury items anymore.”
Maitri beamed. “That’s what I’m hoping to do. Create a shop which is useful and convenient, as well as supplying tasty, quality, local items which aren’t readily available in supermarkets.”
Gilly and Keya left Aunt Beanie to choose her asparagus with Maitri. As they approached the cafe’s patio doors, Keya’s middle sister, Zivah, emerged pushing a compact black baby buggy.
“Sis,” cried Keya. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I needed to get out of the house, and the only time Kaami seems to sleep is in the car.”
“May I?” asked Gilly, stepping forward and peering into the buggy. “Oh, he’s so cute,” she marvelled. “I don’t think Thomas was ever that tiny.”
“And he’s five weeks old now,” Zivah said. “But it’s hard for him to grow when he’s constantly throwing up his milk.”
“Colic,” said Gilly.
“My doctor says not. I massage his tummy regularly, and Mum’s tried a traditional Indian remedy of boiling up asafoetida and applying it to his belly button when it’s cool, but he still cries for hours at night. And I don’t know what I can do to help him.”
Zivah looked exhausted and close to tears.
Gilly moved away from the pram and wrapped her arms around Zivah’s thin frame.
Keya heard Zivah’s sobs. But what could she do to help her sister?
CHAPTER FOUR
Keya left the cafe after helping with the lunchtime customers and arrived at Cirencester Police Station at three o’clock.
She walked into the team room to find her colleague, Ryan, Constable Jenkins, sitting at his desk talking to retired police sergeant, Stan Rowbottom.
“Your mum gave me this for you,” Keya said as she placed a brown paper bag on Ryan’s desk.
Ryan’s mum, Monica, had taken over running the kitchen at the Waterwheel Cafe after Keya’s mother had left to help Zivah with baby Kaami. Ryan’s girlfriend, Millie, also worked at the cafe, and ran the front of house.
Ryan opened the top of the bag and peered in. Then he placed his hand inside, removed a round golden biscuit, and bit into it.
“Nice. Lemon curd flavour, I think. Very fresh.”
