A Question of Guilt by Janet Tanner Page A

been in the wars, my love,’ the woman called Brenda said, shifting her chair around her table so that she was even closer to me. ‘What have you been up to?’
    â€˜Oh, a skiing accident,’ I said, hoping it wouldn’t put her off. She didn’t look like the sort of person to have ever been on a ski slope, and might dismiss me as a Hooray Henrietta. Not Brenda.
    â€˜Well I never!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Rather you than me. I slipped down on a patch of ice outside my back door last year and broke my wrist. That’s the closest I want to get to skiing – or skating, come to that. So when did this happen?’
    By the time I’d told her the story we were chatting like old friends, and I was managing to eat an undeniably delicious teacake.
    â€˜So you come in here a lot, do you?’ I asked, licking melted butter from my fingers.
    â€˜Regular as clockwork.’ Brenda poured a second cup of tea from her miniature bone china teapot. ‘Have done ever since they opened. We should all support local businesses, I reckon, and Lisa deserved to make a success of it after what she went through.’
    â€˜The fire, you mean?’ I said disingenuously.
    â€˜Oh, a terrible do, that was!’ Brenda shook her head and huffed to emphasize her point. ‘That wicked, wicked man! Trying to burn those two poor girls in their beds!’ She huffed again.
    â€˜Brian Jennings, you mean?’ I said.
    â€˜That’s him. I always knew he wasn’t right in the head, of course. But to go and do something like that! Well, at least he’s locked up now, thank the Lord, where he can’t get up to any more mischief. And it all turned out well for Lisa in the end.’
    â€˜She married the baker who rescued her, I understand,’ I said.
    â€˜She did that. And a lovely couple they make too . . . Oh!’ she exclaimed suddenly, ‘here she is. Hello, Lisa my love.’
    A young woman had emerged from behind the beaded curtain and even if Brenda hadn’t more or less introduced her, I’d have recognized her from her newspaper photographs. Lisa Curry – or Lisa Holder as she now was – was short, stocky and rather plain, dark hair cut in a short bob that didn’t particularly flatter her rather coarse features. She was wearing a red jumper that strained over a hefty bosom, black trousers, and a large blue cook’s apron, folded down at the waist.
    â€˜Brenda,’ she said, not sounding exactly delighted, but it would take more than a lukewarm greeting to put Brenda off.
    â€˜I was just saying, Lisa, what a lovely job you’ve made of this place. That fire was a terrible thing, but it was a blessing in disguise. Just look how it’s turned out for you.’
    â€˜To be honest, I’d rather not talk about it,’ Lisa said shortly.
    â€˜Well, that’s understandable, my love. But it’s true, all the same. Every cloud has a silver lining, you could say. Now.’ Brenda reached for her scarf, hanging over the back of her chair, and wound it round her neck. ‘I suppose I’d better be seeing about getting home, or Mother will be wondering wherever I’ve got to. I’ve got my mother living with me, you see,’ she said to me, ‘and she gets in a right state if she’s left on her own too long.’
    â€˜Oh . . . right . . .’ I said lamely.
    Brenda turned her attention back to Lisa.
    â€˜If I could just have my bill, my love . . .’
    â€˜Pot of tea and a teacake?’ Lisa scribbled on a little notepad and put the tab on the table in front of Brenda, who paid, and gathered her shopping bags together.
    The two young mothers had left while Brenda and I had been talking, and the little waitress had disappeared. When Brenda left too, Lisa and I were alone. This was too good an opportunity to miss, I thought, especially since Brenda had conveniently raised the subject of the fire