off to themselves all the time and lonely. You could tell. Like they was dying for company, for conversation. Nice enough girls, mind.’
‘Did you ever hear them talk about Stella Minter?’
Penrose stared at her. ‘That’s an odd one. That’s right odd, I mean it.’
‘Why?’
‘How could you know about that?’ He looked at them with sudden suspicion, as if they had revealed some incriminating secret - a tail, or an odour of brimstone. Then he thought better of it. ‘It was a game they played, the two sisters. It was sort of a tea party or something - all in dumb show, mind, except for the odd old cup or a rock they’d picked up. But I’d look down from our window - I’d have put my feet up for a bit - and, there they’d be out in the garden, except there wasn’t no garden then, jabbering to each other and playing at pouring tea - I got that much - and other stuff I couldn’t tell, like talking to people that wasn’t there, and so on. I went down one day, I had something to fix on our back door, and the little one sees me and she says - they was always eager to talk - she says, “We’re playing cellar-minto.” Or that’s what I thought she said. Made no sense , but I thought it was some word they’d made up; I don’t know kids’ games. Then later, another day, she said it again and I got it as stellar-minto. Stellar-minto, all right, makes no sense to me either, but so what? Now here you come along and say it again, I haven’t heard it in, what? - four years. And it all comes right back. What’s it mean, then?’
‘It’s a girl’s name - Stella Minter.’
He looked at her, frowned. ‘What’s that mean, then - we’re playing Stella Minter? Playing at somebody else? Making fun?’
‘More like being somebody else.’
Penrose went on frowning, then shook his head; he put his hands on the table as if to push himself up, and Denton hurried to say, ‘What sort of man was Satterlee?’
Penrose grunted, a single scornful sound. ‘Harold Satterlee was the sort you don’t want hanging about. Full of himself. Drove his workmen like billy-o; that’s why the company hired him, I suppose. I had one run-in with him, that was all I needed to see of him.’
‘What happened?’
‘Look, mate, I’ve really got to go. I’ll make this quick.’ But it was clear that Penrose liked the chance to tell the story. ‘Satterlee comes to me and says he wants me to refuse to sell beer to his men in the middle of the day - says it slows them down in the p.m. I said that was bleeding nonsense and I wouldn’t do it. He says if I don’t do it, he’ll go to the company and close me down. Well, I laughed in his face! I said to him, see here, my man, they didn’t build this pub first because they liked the look of it, you know; they built it so the workmen can grab a pint! You go and tell the company to shut it down, and they’ll shut you down. You’ll be out on the street, not me. Well, he knew I was right, but he got mad as a wet hen. Swore terrible, put his face in mine, said he was going to pound me. So I showed him my friend in need -’ Penrose pulled only the handle of a leather-covered truncheon from his trouser pocket - ‘and said I’d have him level on the ground before he could swing a fist. Well, he knew I’d do it, so he stomps off bellowing and never spoke to me again. Nor could his kids after that - they’d look away if they saw me. I felt that sorry for them. The bigger one, Alice, she could have been pretty, but she had a hard time of it. And a hard time since, I’d wager.’
‘It’s she who’s dead, we think,’ Janet Striker said.
‘Ah, poor tyke. How?’
‘Murdered.’ She glanced at Denton. ‘If it’s the same girl. Look here, Mr Penrose, it’s important that we find the Satterlees. I take it they’re not here any more. Where have they gone?’
Penrose, on his feet now, shook his head. ‘No idea, and good riddance. The company might know - he might’ve gone someplace else to do the same job for them.’ He shook his head again. ‘Murdered! You