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Back The Couple at Number 9: a Novel Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. Part Two
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. Part Three
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. Part Four
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Acknowledgments
  68. About the Author
  69. Praise for Claire Douglas and The Couple at Number 9
  70. Also by Claire Douglas
  71. About the Publisher

‘How long ago did your grandmother move out of the cottage?’

‘Years ago. She hasn’t lived there in a very long time.’

‘Do you remember what year?’

‘Not exactly, no.’ I’m not telling him anything. He seems to consider this for a moment. Snowy starts pulling on the lead impatiently. ‘Look,’ I add, ‘I really don’t know anything. My mum and I didn’t even realize Gran had this cottage until she went into the care home. I honestly can’t help you.’

He moves towards me, reaching inside his jacket. ‘Can I give you this?’ He pulls out a small cream business card. I reach out and take it from him. G. E. Davies. T&D Private Investigators is typed along the front and underneath a mobile number. ‘My client is looking for something your grandmother has. My client is certain that she’s held on to it for a number of years.’

I think of the two cardboard boxes full of her stuff and vow to go through them again. ‘What kind of thing?’

He sighs, looking frustrated. ‘Some kind of file. Paperwork.’

‘What is this all about?’

‘I’m just following orders, Saffron.’ He lowers his voice, even though there isn’t anybody around, and fear ripples through me. I take a step back. ‘My client says this file is very important. It belongs to my client and my client wants it back.’

‘Even after all these years?’

‘Yes, especially after all these years. So if you find it call me. If it gets into the wrong hands it could cause all sorts of problems for your grandmother. Okay?’

‘I . . . In what way?’

‘It’s complicated. But it’s very important. You do understand that, don’t you?’

I nod.

‘Good. Then I hope to hear from you.’

He turns away. I stand and watch him negotiating the pathways, stepping over thick roots, until he’s rounded the corner out of sight.

19

Theo

LARRY KNIGHT’S HOUSE IS A RED-BRICK EDWARDIAN DETACHED in one of Leeds’s affluent suburbs with two ball-shaped miniature trees in square metal planters at either side of the black-painted front door.

Theo manages to find a space outside, under a huge shedding cherry tree, its petals already coating the pavement. It’s a beautiful evening: the sun is low in the sky, casting striated ice-cream colours across the horizon, and the road is quiet, apart from the tweeting of birds and the far-off sound of children playing.