Page 7

Jason seemed to have picked up at least part of her thoughts by telepathy.

‘You should also know,’ he said seriously, ‘that we don’t consider Mrs M to be the perfect woman.’

‘No.’ Stick grinned. ‘She’s about forty years past her use-by date.’

‘And she’s grumpy as hell.’

‘Yeah.’ Jason rubbed his elbow reflectively. ‘She hit me with a wooden spoon the other day.’

‘Well, you were sticking your dirty, fat finger in her gravy.’

‘I was only tasting it.’

The mention of food provoked another general glance towards the clock and yet another short silence.

‘What was that?’ Laura frowned at the faint but noticeably unusual sound.

‘Just a cat.’

‘Gate squeaking?’ Cliff suggested hopefully. ‘Mrs M arriving for breakfast?’

‘Jeez, we’d better not get another callout,’ Jason said unhappily. ‘I’m starving.’

‘You’re always starving, Jase.’

‘Can’t help it. I’m a growing lad.’

‘We’ve noticed.’ Stick leaned over the side of the chair and poked Jason’s midriff. ‘You’d better watch out, mate. Pot belly city!’

Laura’s lips twitched as she gave Tim a warning glance. He grinned and raised his eyebrows as though acknowledging that Laura might have already been provocative enough, especially for this time of day.

They were all startled at the sound made by the original back door of the house. Not that it wasn’t Mrs McKendry’s normal entranceway, but she didn’t usually open and shut it with quite such purpose. The room fell uncomfortably silent now. Mrs M wasn’t happy. Someone had upset her and they were all likely to suffer the consequences. Laura was suddenly acutely aware of just how right her colleagues had been not to trespass on their housekeeper’s self-designated areas of responsibility.

Never mind the culinary and other benefits they all received – letting Jean McKendry think she was indispensable was actually an act of kindness. Looking after Inglewood station was her life and while she could be nosy, grumpy and always opinionated, she was never unfair. If she was this upset there would be a good reason for it.

The determined tap of sensible, low-heeled shoes got louder as Mrs McKendry traversed the kitchen’s linoleum floor. All eyes were drawn to the arched opening that joined the dining-room end of the lounge to the kitchen that ran along the other side of the house. Those same eyes swivelled in unison to the large cardboard box that Mrs M deposited carefully on the table. Wiry arms were now folded in front of the small woman’s spare frame. And, in case her body language wasn’t enough to let them know that this time they were in serious trouble, her tone backed it up more than adequately.

‘I’m waiting,’ she snapped.

‘What for, Mackie?’ Jason’s smile was one of his most winning. It wasn’t even directed at Laura and it was enough to melt her bones. Using the affectionate nickname had to be overkill, surely? ‘What have we done?’

‘I know what one of you has done,’ Mrs M enunciated with precision. ‘What I want to know is, who is responsible?’

‘Who is responsible for what?’

A sound rather similar to a cat’s mew or a gate squeaking was suddenly produced by the box on the table. Mrs McKendry’s lips almost disappeared into a straight, grim line.

‘Who is responsible for this puir wee bairn being left on the back doorstep of Inglewood station?’

2

A spell had been cast.

Laura experienced an odd sensation, as though a wand had actually been waved over the group of people sitting in the lounge of the Inglewood emergency response station. An electric tingle – a feeling she was unable to identify on the spectrum between elation and fear – ran through her entire body, and she knew without a shadow of doubt that the axis of her world was tilting.

Only an insignificant amount of time followed Mrs McKendry’s startling demand but it marked the transition between normal life and something totally unknown. One minute they had all been slumped in various positions of rest, filling in time and carefully not tempting fate by saying they were probably safe from the disruption of a late callout, and now they were suddenly involved in a disruption that was completely without precedent.

Laura wasn’t the only one to be stunned. Or to feel nervous in taking that first step of an unknown journey. The whole of Green Watch was moving. Slowly, silently, they approached the box on the table with as much caution as if it contained a live cobra.