Part 40 (1/2)

Gwen walked downstairs in time to see Harry holding up his hands. 'Just doing my job.'

'Yeah, well-'

'And you know I f.u.c.king hated it,' Harry said. He caught sight of Gwen and nodded. 'Morning. Sorry to wake you.'

'I'm happy to be woken up for news like that.'

Cam put his arm around Gwen's shoulders and pulled her close. 'What's the bad news?'

'After an illuminating chat with your mother, we had an official word in Lily Thomas's ear. However, that's about as far as I can go.' Harry nodded to Gwen. 'I know you told me before that you'd had unwanted attention, but the law isn't much good if someone is careful and determined.'

'Restraining order?' Cam said.

Harry shrugged. 'Can't hurt. And I'll keep an eye out. Unofficially.'

'Thank you,' Cam said. He looked at Gwen. 'I didn't believe you when you told me Lily was after you. Before, I mean. I thought you were being paranoid. I'm sorry.'

Gwen blinked. Cam was really taking this honesty thing to heart.

Harry rubbed his hand over his face. He hadn't shaved and his eyes were bloodshot. 'I'm sorry I can't do more. I've tried saying ”it doesn't feel right” to my boss, but it's not an angle I can push.'

'Modern policemen aren't allowed hunches?' Cam said.

'Something like that.' Harry shrugged.

Cam let out a long breath. 'It's not what Morse led me to believe.'

'I'm sorry.' Harry said seriously.

The next day was the opening of the Bath Christmas market and Gwen was still booked in to run her stall. She showered and got her stock ready, working on autopilot and hoping that keeping busy would help. It didn't.

She went to the hospital on her way to the market. Katie was the same and Ruby looked worse. 'Shall I take over here for a while? Let you get some rest.'

Ruby shook her head wordlessly.

Gwen hated feeling so helpless. She held her hand against Katie's forehead and it was cool to the touch.

'She's not got a temperature,' Ruby said. 'They can't tell us anything new. They say we just have to wait.'

Gwen nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The last thing Ruby needed was for her to dissolve. 'I'm going to open my stall at the market for a couple of hours but I've got my mobile on me. Call if you need anything or if anything happens.'

'I will,' Ruby said.

Gwen kissed Katie, whispering into her hair, 'Wake up.'

The Bath Christmas market was held in the paved square in front of the Abbey. When Gwen had first seen the little wooden houses arranged around the edge, she'd thought she'd come to the wrong place and stumbled into a large garden centre by mistake. However, looking around now at the inviting displays and twinkling fairy lights, she had to admit it looked very, well, Christma.s.sy. 'And very cla.s.sy, darling,' Mary-Anne said. 'Nothing tacky in lovely Bath; the committee simply wouldn't allow it. They're even worse than Pendleford's lot.'

'Pendleford has a committee?' Gwen said, and then remembered. 'Oh. Patrick Allen's crew.'

'The very same.' Mary-Anne was dealing out soaps in rainbow colours with the speed of a croupier. 'Watch out for that one.' She winked at Gwen. 'He's got an eye for the ladies.'

'Right. Thanks.' Gwen didn't think Patrick Allen would ever be interested in her type. Thank G.o.d.

The display table was smaller than her usual one and it took longer than she expected to get her stock arranged. She nailed small pieces of wood to the back wall of the shed and rested a shadow box on each. By the time she'd finished, there were a good number of shoppers wandering past and the smell of roast chestnuts wafting through the air. A bra.s.s band began playing carols and Gwen felt her eyes p.r.i.c.king with tears. Again. What if Katie wasn't out of hospital in time for Christmas? She blinked and held up a mirror for a lady who was looking at a pair of earrings. Get your mind on the job. Katie is going to wake up and want some presents on the 25th. It's not going to be very festive at End House if you don't make some b.l.o.o.d.y money.

After an hour, the temperature had dropped further. The sky was clear a no cloud cover a but at least it was dry. Lots of the punters were carrying cardboard cups of mulled wine or hot chocolate and Gwen began to crave some. She rubbed her hands together and wished she were wearing big ski mittens rather than fingerless gloves. It would be harder to make change, but at least she wouldn't be worried about losing her fingertips to frostbite.

'h.e.l.lo, Gwen.'

Gwen almost did a double-take. It was Elaine Laing, in the expensively coated flesh. 'h.e.l.lo,' Gwen managed.

Elaine studied her stall and Gwen felt herself tense. If she says something disparaging, I'm going to let her have it.

'The market looks nice this year,' Elaine said. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, making her look more human than usual. 'A good variety of stalls.'

'Yes. The organisers did a good job,' Gwen said.

Elaine reached out a finger, clad in camel-coloured leather, and lightly touched a Liberty-print scarf. 'Is this genuine?'

'Of course,' Gwen said.

'I apologise,' Elaine said and Gwen almost fell over.

'What are those?' Elaine pointed at the shadow boxes.

'They're expensive,' Gwen warned automatically, as she always did. And then she felt stupid. She always felt diffident about the asking price, but they took so long to make, she really couldn't afford to price them lower. However, she knew that Elaine Laing probably considered seventy pounds pocket change.

She chose her favourite box and lifted it carefully down.

Elaine put her hands behind her back as if to stop herself from touching, and leaned forward to look.

Gwen steeled herself for the disparaging comments or stupid questions. It was the hardest thing about running the stall: the feeling of exposure.

'Why are you selling these here?' Elaine looked genuinely confused.

Gwen gritted her teeth and counted to ten, very fast. Then she said, 'I like them. I like making them and this is my stall. I decide what to sell.'

Elaine smiled thinly. 'I meant, why aren't you selling them through a gallery?'

'Sorry?'

'They're art pieces, correct?'

'Well. Craft or art. It's all a matter of opinion.'

Elaine straightened up. 'Is each piece one of a kind or created in strictly limited edition?'

'I never do the same piece twice. I couldn't; the components are all unique-'

'Are they all t.i.tled? Do they carry some kind of message or theme or mood?' Elaine was ticking points off on her fingers. 'Are they expressions of self?'