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‘How exciting. And very busy, so I mustn’t take up your time,’ Fleur demurred, hoping she was being just unsubtle enough.

‘How can I help?’

‘I’m looking for someone – Tom Catchlove. Would you know him, by any chance?’

‘Tom, yes, I know him. He didn’t turn up for work this morning, or yesterday.’ Fleur’s inner chill turned icy as he looked back at her, puzzled. ‘I don’t know him all that well, but you take a measure of a man and I doubt it’s his way to let people down . . . not without reason.’

She nodded. ‘I agree. Tom’s a friend of mine,’ she said. ‘We had . . . well, we had a dinner date yesterday.’

‘He didn’t waste any time then?’ At her surprise, he added, ‘You were at the dance.’

She recalled him now on the dancefloor, winking at Tom. ‘Oh, that’s why you seem familiar. You went together?’

He nodded. ‘He took some persuading to attend, but once there, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. And why would he? You were easily the prettiest girl in the room, and who could resist Tom’s country charm?’ He chuckled, grinning again.

She wanted to say clearly not me, but she kept her smile wide in return. ‘He was expected last night at my family home, but Tom didn’t turn up.’

Charlie’s smile faded and a frown deepened. ‘Ah, right. We worked together Monday . . . He seemed to have quite a skip in his step, to be honest, although he wouldn’t explain why.’ He winked. ‘I could tell he was happy. Must have been you, Miss Appleby.’

She felt herself blush. ‘Call me Fleur, please.’

He shrugged. ‘He seemed perfectly normal. As I say, chirpy. He didn’t say anything about his date with you, but Tom’s not one for shooting his mouth off, I’m sure you’ve discovered. He did mention that he needed to find more permanent lodging but it really wasn’t a problem yet for him. He’d had a good day’s work, as far I knew, and I even persuaded him to have a beer together.’

‘You did? What time was this?’

Charlie shrugged. ‘We parted company before the six o’ clock swill time, I remember that. We just had a small one . . . only time for a few swallows after a big day here.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. He headed up Port Road. I went back towards Semaphore.’ Charlie looked beyond her, his gaze narrowing in thought. ‘Actually . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘We recognised a couple of blokes in the pub from the dance. And I’m only just realising it now that I see you standing here, but I think they were the fellows from your party.’

‘Jimmy Coglin?’ she said, startled.

‘I wouldn’t know the names. Tom recognised one of them, but nothing was said; they weren’t paying us any attention and we weren’t paying them any. He just casually mentioned they were in the pub as we left.’

‘How many were there?’

‘I really don’t know, Fleur. Perhaps three.’ Charlie opened his palms. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking that Jimmy Coglin is a jealous, dodgy, vicious—’

‘Ooh, whoa, steady now.’

But Fleur’s ire was up, as she imagined a scenario that could have led to Tom’s disappearance that involved a trio of cowards, one of them with a grudge to settle. Fleur wanted to go straight to the Coglins but she calmly thanked Charlie for the information, then walked back to the Prince of Wales pub to purchase one dozen fresh Coffin Bay oysters for her father’s dinner.

She returned home briefly, giving them to Nan. ‘You’d better let Irma know I’ve fetched them,’ Fleur said, but didn’t tell Nan where she was going when the woman asked. ‘Back out, another errand,’ was all she was prepared to share.

Fleur took a tram and changed to a trolley bus at Black Diamond Corner to make her way up to Torrensville, counting her blessings that the Applebys had no dead to pick up or prepare today or tomorrow. That could change, of course, but for now she felt fortunate to have the time to make her way to the furniture workshop known as Coglins.

Outside, Bert Coglin was inspecting a series of products set out on small plinths. ‘Miss Appleby. This is a surprise,’ he said, taking a long suck on his cigarette.

Fleur gave him a polite smile. ‘I’m here to see Jimmy, Mr Coglin.’

‘Hope you’re going to be a bit kinder to the lad. I was led to believe you would be marrying my son. He’s not very good with the girls, but I’ll work him hard and he’ll do us proud. What a fine partnership that would be – the Coglins and Appleby’s . . .’