The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,44

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Llanelen life was settling back into its cosy routine, until a chance remark by Mrs. Lloyd changed everything.

On Thursday afternoon she arrived for her usual manicure carrying a large bag from Marks & Spencer.

“Oh, Penny,” she said as she carefully set her bag down beside the appointment-book table. “This has been such a dreadful week and I don’t mind saying I hope I never see one like it again.”

“Very true,” agreed Penny as Mrs. Lloyd settled herself at the manicure table and Penny prepared her warm soaking liquid.

“Of course, for you, dear, Emma’s funeral would have been very upsetting. I know you two were very close, as would only be natural, seeing as how you were both incomers, so to speak.

“Not that we ever thought of you that way, of course,” she added as an afterthought.

Penny smiled at Mrs. Lloyd. Honestly, the woman was impossible, but still, you had to like her. Most of the time.

“The whole wedding experience was very upsetting for me, I can tell you,” Mrs. Lloyd went on. “I was right there as it all unfolded. I saw everything. I can’t tell you how simply shocked everyone was when the bride didn’t turn up. No one knew where to look or what to do. I must say, though, that Bronwyn handled everything beautifully. She really is the most gracious woman and such an asset to her husband. Yes, that Thomas Evans chose very well when he chose her. He certainly knew what he was doing.”

Mrs. Lloyd was off and running. Penny nodded agreement every now and then, murmured an occasional “Mm hmm,” and went on with her work, through the shaping and filing of her client’s nails and the application of the base coat.

“What colour will you be having today?” asked Penny. “How about Chocolate Moose from the Canadian collection? You like that one.”

“That will do very nicely, thank you, Penny.”

As Penny began applying the first coat of polish, Mrs. Lloyd was off again.

“As you know, Penny, I’ve always prided myself on being well turned out. There’s nothing quite sets a professional woman apart like a smart suit, I always say. And I do like the way they’ve brought out suits for more formal wear. I had a very fetching one for the wedding, if I do say so myself, but I was very disappointed in my hat. In fact, it’s over there in the Marks and Sparks bag; I’m taking the bus this afternoon up to Llandudno to return it. They’re very good about taking things back, I find, Marks and Spencer. But of course, I am one of their best customers; I’ve worn nothing but their clothes for years. Or perhaps I should say they dress me! I believe that is the fashion parlance. I find they do a good line for all ages.”

Penny started work on Mrs. Lloyd’s other hand.

“No, the hat wasn’t quite right, I’m afraid. Oh, the colour matched my suit all right, I made sure of that and there was nothing actually wrong with the hat itself, it just didn’t suit me.”

Mrs. Lloyd paused for a moment, held her hands at arm’s length, and gave them a critical look.

“Yes, I think that colour will work very well with the dress I’ll be wearing to the bridge game tonight.

“While these are drying, Penny, just go and fetch me my hat out of the bag, and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Penny sighed inwardly, but knowing the importance of humouring the client, did as she was asked, and handed the large turquoise hat, with its wide brim, tall crown, and masses of netting, feathers, and bobbing wispy bits to her customer. Mrs. Lloyd carried it carefully over to the wall-mounted mirror and placed it on her head.

With a broad, upward sweep of her hand, she gestured at the hat.

“There now, Penny, do you see what I mean? I don’t think the hairdresser did anything different, but for some reason I can’t get the hat to go on properly. It’s sitting up way too high!”

Tilting her head this way and that to get a better look at the hat, Mrs. Lloyd caught sight of Penny, standing behind her, reflected in the mirror. She was shocked by what she saw.

Penny’s normally pale, freckled face was a mask of puzzled intensity as she struggled to process what she had just heard. Her eyes widened, and then her face turned ashen as if all the blood