Forgotten Voices: A Rina Martin British Mystery

Book Preface

September

‘You made it then. Sorry I didn’t collect you from the airport, but you know I’m not much of a driver. Not distance anyway.’

She listened as he told her it didn’t matter.

‘When can I expect you? A hotel? Don’t be silly. You’ll stay here.’ She sighed. ‘All right, maybe you have a point. Call me when you’re settled and we’ll—’

Daphne closed her eyes and tried to control her temper. He could be such a stubborn boy. Daphne still couldn’t think of her younger son as a full-fledged man. He wasn’t anything like his brother. In less generous moments, Daphne found herself wishing it was Ray that the cancer had taken and not her other son, Jeb.

‘Look, Ray, we need to get some things straight, right now. Right, right, OK, let me know when you’re in the hotel and we’ll talk.’

She put the phone down and stood in the hall staring at it accusingly. She’d had such plans too. Ray would come to stay, they’d go together to see that daughter-in-law of hers and Daphne would get the result she wanted. Once and for all, Ellen would be out of the way.

But she supposed he was right not to come to stay with her. They needed to keep their distance, Ray had said. No one knew he was back and it should be kept like that until afterwards.

Satisfied that it would all go her way in the end and that Ray was entitled to sound tired and a little dispirited after so long a journey, Daphne went back into the kitchen where she’d begun to prepare a meal for herself and her returning son. She couldn’t eat all this lot herself. Daphne began to pack meat and vegetables back into the fridge. She supposed the beef would freeze. It could wait for the celebration. Later.

The woman had to go. That was all that mattered now.