CHAPTER SEVENTEENShe was standing by the milestone, a bicycle leaning against the hedge behind her. When Antony drew up she went across to the car.
‘We’d better get off the road. Turn up Hob Lane. I’ve got Ellie’s bicycle—I’ll be there as soon as you are.’
The car almost filled the lane. Not that it mattered, for nothing came this way more than once in a blue moon. Julia got in, leaned back into the corner, and said without any preliminaries,
‘They think it’s murder.’
‘Why?’
She said, ‘Everything.’ And then, ‘I’d better tell you.’
‘Yes.’
She took one of those long breaths. She was bare-headed, her hair a little misted with the early morning damp, her face quite colourless and strongly set, her voice low and steady.
‘It’s been a dreadful two days—ever since you went. There must have
