Philip knew where to take her. He stopped on Kirkgate. Sergeant Dog whined to come out of the van with her but Mrs. Sugden told him to stay with Philip.

The first agent had very little on his books just now. There was a butcher’s shop.

Mrs. Sugden didn’t want a butcher’s shop.

The estate agent had a garage, fully equipped, to rent or buy, put up by a Mr. Battersby who was retiring to Morecambe. It would be a grand investment.

Mrs. Sugden thought this might not be right for her.

The agent explained that she could put in a mechanic and the money would roll in. There was serious interest in this business. She should not waste time. He also had a big house that would make a corner shop. He showed her a photograph.

Mrs. Sugden noticed that the big house was not on a corner. She thanked him for his time and would call another day.

Philip kindly drove her to Westgate, to a second agent.

Mr. Gopnik of Gopnik and Company quickly put a small bottle back into his desk drawer as Mrs. Sugden entered.

He listened carefully to her requirements, and then praised a tobacconist’s shop in a prime location. Mrs. Sugden knew this was not the ticket, but it didn’t do to appear uninterested in what the agent described as a proper little gold mine.

When she asked about something more general, such as a corner shop in a village, his eyes lit up.

“I can show you just the thing, in Thorpefield.”

That was the place. Mrs. Sugden hid her interest. “If you give me the address, and trust me with the keys, I can take a look. Will the shopkeeper be there to answer my questions?”

“Sadly no. She died.”

“Oh dear. When?”

“I’m not sure exactly when, but I know she’ll be buried this week.”

Mrs. Sugden stepped back. There were limits. “I won’t look at the poor woman’s shop before she’s in the ground.”

“She wouldn’t mind.”

“Well I mind. It’s not proper.” She gave him her telephone number. “Ring me when it’s decent to visit the place.”

She felt sure that Mrs. Shackleton would agree. It would be no way of going on to pick over the woman’s life before she was respectably buried.

It then occurred to her that the estate agent might think she was wasting his time, and not come back to her. “I think that corner shop will be right up my street, but I’ll take a look at the tobacconist, as well. If it’s all the same to you.”

As she came out of the estate agent’s office, Philip looked at his watch. He explained that the furniture van, which he was testing after a repair, was overdue for return.

Mrs. Sugden didn’t want to inconvenience him any more than she had already.