say. I’m rather out of breath; I look around, wishing there was somewhere I could sit down for a moment, but of course there’s no bench in sight. ‘Though, actually, I’m fair to bursting for a trip to the ladies,’ I say in a confidential tone. ‘I’m not sure I’ll make it home! Once you’re my age, you know, the bladder isn’t what it was. Leaky, you know. Leaky.’
Ethan is wearing an expression akin to Fitz’s when someone is maimed on one of Martha’s crime dramas.
‘My flat’s just up here,’ Ethan says, gesturing to the building at the end of the street. ‘Would you like to pop up and, err, use our facilities?’
‘Oh, you are a love,’ I say. ‘Lead the way.’
*
I find four clues in Ethan’s flat.
1) A receipt on the hall table for a meal for two, coming to £248. Now, I know London is pricy – the amount they charge for things here is criminal – but that’s an awful lot of money to spend with someone if they’re just a friend or colleague.
2) Two toothbrushes in the bathroom, both heads damp, suggesting recent use. Why would Ethan use two toothbrushes?
3) Alongside a couple of bottles of Leena’s hair potions that I recognise – all designed to ‘manage frizz’ – there is a small bottle of serum for ‘colour-protection’. Leena’s never dyed her hair. Though I suppose it could be Ethan’s. He is very proud of those dark locks of his.
4) No bathroom bin. This doesn’t in and of itself suggest adultery, but I’ve found in my life that I rarely like a person if they’ve not had the consideration to put a bin in a bathroom. It’s always men who do this, and almost always men you cannot trust.
*
Once Fitz and I are back at home, we compare notes. He found no clues at all, which is typical. I did tell him old ladies make the best detectives.
‘You won’t mention this to Leena, will you?’ I say rather worriedly. I’ve fallen into a bad habit of sharing things with Fitz. He knows an awful lot about Tod now, for instance. I had two glasses of wine and he asked such candid questions it was a little disarming. I would never usually tell anyone these sorts of personal things, not even Betsy. Perhaps it’s being down here living somebody else’s life that’s done it. Whatever the reason, it’s been quite fun.
‘My lips are sealed, Mrs C,’ Fitz says. His face turns solemn. ‘If you suspect there’s dirt to be found on Ethan, I’m all for the digging. Leena deserves the best.’
‘She does,’ I say.
‘And so do you, Mrs C.’
Fitz pushes Leena’s laptop towards me across the sofa cushions. Life in Leena’s flat seems to circle around this sofa. We eat here, drink tea here; for a while, it was Martha’s office.
‘Any new messages?’ Fitz asks. ‘Oh, you’ve totally got a message from Howard, look at that smile! You are too cute.’
‘Oh, shush,’ I tell him. ‘Go and make yourself useful – the washing-up needs doing.’
‘Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to your sexting.’
I haven’t a clue what that means, but I suspect it’s rude, so I shoot him a glare just in case. Fitz grins and disappears off into the kitchen, and I settle back into the sofa and read the message from Howard.
OldCountryBoy says: Hi Eileen! I just wanted to say that I’m ready to set up that website for your social club whenever you are. It’ll only take me a day when you give me the go-ahead. Xxxxx
I’d forgotten all about Howard’s offer to make us a website. I beam.
EileenCotton79 says: Thank you ever so much, Howard. What do you need to get started? Xx
I chew my lip in thought as I wait for his reply. Having a website will be very exciting, but it won’t help bring members in for the launch event. I’ve started to fret about that a little, though Fitz’s been plastering those posters all over the area. I just wonder if the people we’re after really look at the posters on the walls around here. There are so many, and most of them are about bands and activism and things. We have said on the posters that transport to the venue can be provided – Tod has offered his theatre company’s tour bus, bless him – but the people we want to reach might well not get out and about enough to spot the posters to begin with.