Faith - Lesley Pearse [80]
Her expression, which had been open, suddenly tightened. ‘Go away,’ she said and moved to shut the door.
‘Meggie, I am not a journalist,’ he said quickly, assuming that was her fear. ‘I have a letter in my pocket from Laura which authorizes me to speak to people on her behalf. Please let me show it to you.’
The door didn’t close any further, but she was still using it as a shield.
‘I’m trying to help her get an appeal,’ he went on. ‘I just want to talk to you to discover how you feel about her and her murder conviction. It’s okay if you aren’t on her side, I don’t want to try and talk you round. I just want to know the truth about her.’
‘Let me see the letter first,’ she said, her voice cracking a little as if she was frightened.
Stuart took it out of his pocket and handed it to her.
‘You’d better come in,’ she said after reading it. ‘I don’t think I can be any help to you, I didn’t know the woman who was killed, or any of Laura’s friends.’
The house was as neat inside as out: pale blue carpet in the hall and on the stairs, blue striped wallpaper up to a glossy white dado rail, and above the rail another blue and white paper.
As he followed Meggie towards the kitchen at the back of the house he felt he had walked into a Laura Ashley catalogue. He caught a glimpse of the sitting room: large cream buttoned-back Chesterfields, an original fireplace with a beautiful tiled surround. Everything was soft and feminine – even the white dog that bounded out of the kitchen looked like a fluffy soft toy.
‘What a pretty house,’ Stuart said, bending to stroke the dog. ‘And you are a very pretty pooch too! What breed are you?’
He knew instinctively there was no man living there, and in all probability few men, if any, ever came into the house as it had an ordered, almost anti-male feel about it. Yet Meggie didn’t look the type to be a man hater – she might be wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, but her sandals were dainty, strappy ones, her toe nails painted pink, and she was wearing makeup. She wasn’t as beautiful as Laura, her face was flatter and her nose bigger, but she had a sexy look about her. She might be in her forties but her figure was perfect, a washboard stomach and pert breasts. He had often observed that women who didn’t like men usually hid their bodies under baggy, drab clothes.
‘A Bichon cross poodle,’ Meggie said. ‘She’s usually quite nervous with men, but she seems to like you. Do sit down.’
As Stuart sat down on one of the pine kitchen chairs, the dog jumped up on to his lap and tried to lick his face. Meggie smiled. ‘That’s a first! She never wants to get on anyone’s lap but mine. But push her down if you don’t like it.’
‘I love dogs,’ Stuart said truthfully. ‘I often prefer them to people. There isn’t a downside to them, is there? Not unless you count having to take them out for walks even when it’s raining.’
‘Lucy won’t go out in the rain,’ Meggie said, and came closer to him to stroke the dog’s ears. ‘Would you like some tea or coffee? And will you start by explaining how you found me, and what makes you want to try and help Laura?’
Stuart said he’d like some coffee and then launched into his explanation about how he used to work for Jackie and only heard about her death recently, his belief that Laura was innocent and how long he’d known her.
‘You’re that Stuart!’ Meggie said incredulously. ‘I didn’t connect at first, but then I never knew his surname.’
‘What does “that Stuart” mean?’ he smiled. ‘Did she tell you terrible tales about me?’
‘No, quite the reverse,’ Meggie said and gave him a shy smile. ‘You were one of her all-time greatest regrets. I’m surprised you want to help her, she always said she did the dirty on you.’
‘I got over that,’ he said, and then went on to tell Meggie how he got her address. ‘I got the impression from that brief quote from you in the newspaper that you didn’t entirely go along with your mother’s views,’ he ended up.
‘I certainly didn’t. Mum would do or say anything for a