Kathleen shook her head. ‘No, not yet. Maura, are you up to it after the journey?’

‘Of course I am! There’s no way I’m sitting here while you are all out looking for Peggy. Where do we start?’

Alice picked up the mop. ‘Kathleen, do you think you should read our tea leaves first, for a bit of a clue?’ She banged on the wall, three long thuds in rapid succession, which meant: urgent.

Kathleen lifted the simmering kettle off the range, poured it over the tea leaves and threw in an extra scoop. ‘Alice, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Is it now, along with looking for Peggy and everything else I do around here? Welcome back, Maura!’

‘We will be a woman down. Maggie Trott won’t be answering the knock,’ said Maura. ‘We just saw her heading into the Anchor as we passed.’

Kathleen frowned and shook her head. ‘Maggie Trott? No, you must be mistaken. Maggie hasn’t been on a night out, ever. She’s a martyr, is Maggie, she prefers to sit at home missing her husband, who has been dead for over twenty years. Maggie of Arc, I call her. She never misses mass, though, and for a woman who never goes out, she spends far too much time in confession.’ Kathleen plumped up the cushions on the chairs beside the fire; despite the urgency of the situation, she could not allow anyone to come into her house unless it was tidy. ‘The problem with Maggie is she is scared of her own shadow. She wouldn’t admit it, but she is. The thing is, Maura, they think life lasts forever – and the thing about Maggie especially is, she should know better! No, she will be running up this path along with the rest of them any moment now.’ Alice banged on the kitchen wall with the end of the mop, three ominous thuds. The three women held each other’s gaze knowing all too well the sounds that would follow. They waited, they heard the echoing thuds on walls followed by the distant click of back yard gates. The women of the four streets were coming to the rescue as they always had, so many times before.

Chapter Twenty-four

Cindy gave Maggie’s arm a reassuring squeeze as they approached the doors of the Anchor. She could sense her nervousness and, as they drew nearer, the quieter Maggie became.

‘Come on, love, cheer up, you’re just coming for a drink in the pub, it’s Babs and Bill waiting inside, not Pierrepoint the old hangman! And you never know, you might just meet someone nice, a fella, I mean; there are a few around here worth a second look.’

Maggie pulled a disbelieving face and Cindy smiled. ‘Oh, all right, I’m exaggerating.’