Still, it is peaceful here. The window is open and the warm spring air floats in. It抯 strange how this helps with the anxiety. At night, Judy lies awake worrying about work, school and Covid. Waking in the early hours she becomes convinced that she can抰 smell anything （one of the symptoms of the virus） and goes into the bathroom to sniff the organic soap. Cathbad sleeps on, regardless, protected by The Goddess. But, when the morning sun streams in, it抯 hard to stay pessimistic. Now she can hear her neighbour mowing his lawn and smell the freshly cut grass. Downstairs, the children and Cathbad are laughing as they listen to Horrible Histories on the radio. In her room, Maddie is tapping away on her laptop. A hen squawks from the garden.
Judy turns to her notes on the Avril Flowers case. There抯 something she抯 missing here, she抯 sure of it. Some link between Avril抯 death and Samantha Wilson抯。 Maybe Karen Head too. Judy flicks through her trusty notebook. She has included a brief sketch of Avril抯 bungalow: main bedroom, spare bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, sitting room. Judy thinks about touring the premises with Tanya, who抎 been more concerned with its specifications and with her own BMI. What was it she had said in the bathroom?
Nice scales. Should I test them out? Check out my BMI?
Judy hadn抰 answered at the time. The house was a crime scene and so the question could only have been rhetorical. Besides, Judy finds Tanya抯 obsession with weight and fitness rather trying. But now those words are sounding warning bells.
What did Karen抯 headteacher say? She even got us to have a sponsored slim last year. I lost two stone.
Karen Head had organised a sponsored slim for the teachers at her school. Avril Flowers possessed state-of-the-art weighing scales. Samantha Wilson had died with a Weight Watchers meal in the microwave.
Avril Flowers in a stripy dress on Cromer Pier. She thought that dress made her look fat.
She was as fit as a fiddle, always exercising. Not a couch potato like me.
Could slimming be the link between the dead women?
By the late afternoon, Ruth抯 head is swimming from trying to read old-fashioned handwriting on electoral registers and birth certificates. Alfred Barton was born in 1900. Dorothy 慏ot?in 1902. Dot died in 1970 but Alfred lived on until 1997, when he had died in Ruth抯 upstairs bedroom. In 1963, the house had presumably been home to Alf, Dot and numerous foster children. Where does that leave Ruth? Feeling slightly inadequate is the answer. She often complains about her life （usually to herself, it抯 true） but she has a good job, a car and enough space for her and her daughter to have a bedroom each. She also has hot water, electric light and the internet. Yet there must be people facing the current crisis without any of these things. She really should start counting her blessings, but she抯 had enough of maths for the day. She抯 relieved when her phone buzzes. Nelson.
慔ow are you finding lockdown??
慔as it only been two days??says Ruth. 慖t feels like years.?
Nelson laughs. 慖t抯 very strange. The roads are empty, and it was just me and Tony at the station today.?
慖 would have thought you抎 have liked the empty roads. You抮e always complaining about other cars.?
慖 know but when they抮e not there you miss them. It抯 the same at work. The team drive me mad sometimes, but it doesn抰 seem right to be in the office on my own listening to Tony抯 constant chatter. Then, when I get home, there抯 no one but Bruno to talk to.?
There抯 a brief silence. Ruth digests the fact that Michelle is still away. The distance between them seems to contract. Ruth imagines Nelson in his stream-lined kitchen, opening the cupboards in search of fast food, Bruno watching from the hallway. Nelson抯 house has always seemed exclusively Michelle抯 but maybe that抯 just because Ruth doesn抰 like to think of the two of them choosing soft furnishings or deciding on paint colours.
慔ow抯 Katie??says Nelson.
慡he抯 fine. I think she抣l find it quite boring after a while though. The school don抰 send her much work to do although she did have a Zoom lesson today.?