A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [114]
Back at home Fifi got out the ingredients for the fish pie she wanted to make. She’d cut the recipe out of a magazine some time ago. It looked delicious in the picture, and it sounded easy to make, even for her, as she was well aware she wasn’t a very good cook.
While the fish was simmering in some stock, she made the pastry and the white sauce. But maybe she overcooked the fish because when she strained it, it looked more like grey soup. But she mixed it all into the white sauce anyway, put it into a pie dish and then placed the pastry on top. She made some decorative pastry leaves like in the picture, but when she put them on, the pastry began to sag down in the middle. Assuming it would rise as it cooked, she put it into the oven and went off to have a bath.
She was longer in the bath than she intended as it was so lovely to be able to immerse herself completely without the plaster on her arm. By the time she’d got out, she noticed that the whole house stank of fish, and worse still of burning. She rushed back and opened the oven to find the pie looking absolutely nothing like the one in the picture. It was only the edges that were burned, but the pastry hadn’t risen, it had sunk even further into the filling and looked awful.
Undeterred, she prepared the vegetables and laid the table in the living room. She was sure it would taste nice even if it didn’t look it, and Dan was always appreciative when he knew she’d made an effort.
By six she was ready, wearing Dan’s favourite black dress, with her face made up. She turned the oven right down to its lowest setting and went over to the window to watch for Dan coming home.
Yvette came out of her house and hurried up the street. As always she was wearing one of her shapeless dresses, with a dull brown cardigan over it. It looked as if she was just going to the shop as she had a purse in her hand. As Yvette got to number 13 where the Boltons lived, John came out, and they stopped to talk.
Fifi had only ever spoken to John once or twice, and that was in the Rifleman when she and Dan first came to the street. He was in his late thirties, a big, handsome man with black hair, greying at the temples, vivid blue eyes, an engaging smile, and extremely sharp suits. It was whispered that he was a villain, and he certainly didn’t appear to have a real job as he never emerged from number 2 before noon.
Vera, his wife, was a voluptuous red-head who worked as an usherette in a West End cinema. Someone in the street had told Fifi that their flat was very plushy, with thick carpets, expensive furniture and all the latest appliances, so the whispers about him were probably true.
Next to Dan, John was the best-looking man in the street, even Yvette had remarked on that. Fifi had seen her talking to him on several occasions, and although she expected it was only because Yvette made clothes for Vera sometimes, Dan had often joked that the dressmaker had the hots for John.
She looked animated enough for that, her hands fluttering as if she were describing something to him. Fifi wished she was close enough to hear what they were talking about.
Suddenly Fifi’s memory was jolted as John turned slightly and she saw his profile. She had the same view of him as when he waited for the door to be opened at the Muckles. It was some weeks ago, long before she had the miscarriage. But more importantly, his companion that evening had been the man she’d seen this afternoon in the red Jaguar.
While Fifi was busy studying Yvette and John Bolton, Sergeant Mike Wallis was talking to Detective Inspector Roper in his office.
‘What’s it going to be, guv?’ Wallis said. ‘Charge him or let him go?’
Roper lit a cigarette and drew heavily on it. He had been sitting at his desk for over an hour mulling