Later that evening, Jack got out the ladders straight after work and cleaned the windows for Mrs Barley, with me standing below directing a torch towards the glass. Afterwards, over dinner, I told him about the altercation with Wendy Wiseacre and the saga of her unfortunate Uncle Len. He shook his head.

‘That’s the kind of thing she’s up against, poor woman. There’s not much you can do when people hold these outlandish archaic beliefs – they’re so entrenched, their attitude will never change. Exasperating.’

‘It seems ridiculous, I agree. I mean, you can’t make something bad happen to someone without going near them – can you?’ I kept thinking about all the things that Mrs Barley was suspected of having a hand in and was beginning to wonder if there was something very real at the heart of it all. I took a deep breath.

‘Jack, I’m really worried – I keep thinking about that Len Wiseacre. Do you think Mrs Barley would be capable of killing someone? I mean, when I saw his picture in her album, she was obviously very pissed off about his influence on Frank. D’you reckon she’d have it in her to do a thing like that?’

He looked at me as if I had finally flipped and put down his fork.

‘Look, I think she’s definitely a bit strange. But murdering someone’s a whole different ball game. I’m sure the police would’ve picked up on it at the time if there were suspicious circumstances, but clearly it was written off as a tragic accident. In a word, no; I don’t think she’s capable of cold-blooded murder. I mean, from everything you say, it would have been premeditated, sabotaging the ladder or whatever they’re suggesting she did. Or were they trying to imply she’d made it fall with the powers of her mind?’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘All a bit Mulder and Scully, isn’t it? No. She’s a bit batty and there are some superstitious idiots who will latch on to that and let their imaginations run riot. It’s so quiet round here, they probably need to drum up a bit of excitement.’

Everything he said made sense. I felt much better about it all and resolved that it was best to completely ignore local gossip. Rural communities were long steeped in superstition and rumour, and there was always some poor soul who would bear the brunt of their beliefs. I went to bed that night feeling reassured that our neighbour was just eccentric.

Why, then, was I still so troubled by Wendy Wiseacre’s words?

CHAPTER 15

Weeks passed. Everything had gradually begun to feel more settled; Elodie was sleeping a bit better and I was healing nicely after the C-section. Feeling less exhausted was definitely helping me to cope and keep things in perspective. We were looking forward to our first Christmas as a family.