A Watery Grave (Karen Cady Book 1), Penny Kline [book recommendations for young adults txt] 📗

He was talking about Tessie, asking if she knew of something he could have done that had upset her.

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Karen. ‘I haven’t seen Tessie for several days. In any case I wouldn’t tell her about the girl with you and Simon.’

‘Nothing to tell.’ He laughed but it sounded unnatural. ‘You know Tessie. I’m really fond of her, but she wants us . . . Well, I don’t have to explain to you, Karen.’

‘Explain what?’

He sighed heavily. ‘If you could talk to her. I mean I can’t see you settling down with some bloke, when your life’s hardly begun.’

‘Talk to Tessie?’ she said. ‘There’s no way I’m going to act as a go-between, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘No, you’re right. By the way, how’s your work going? A-levels are much too much like hard work. Not that I’m going to let it get me down.’

‘No, I don’t blame you. It’s not as though you’ll have to send off thousands of job applications.’

He made a face. ‘Can I help it if my father runs his own company?’

‘No, of course not.’ She had no wish to antagonise him. ‘Look, there was something I wanted to ask you, Glen. Natalie Stevens – you never actually met her did you?’

He didn’t flinch. Just seemed glad to change the subject back to something that meant she would stop having a go at him. ‘I believe I saw her once, but we were never introduced. Very attractive. Dark hair, dark eyes. Why d’you ask?’

‘Oh, no reason in particular.’

He smiled. ‘Still trying to find something on that bastard Liam Pearce? I wish you luck, but I reckon it’s all too late. They say more than half of the murders that take place remain unsolved – or there’s insufficient evidence to bring the case to court.’

*

By the time Karen reached the Arts Centre the cafe was full of people who seemed to have been attending a dancing class. They were pushing three tables together, clattering their plates and cups, and making the kind of noise people always seem to make when they find themselves in a large group.

Joanne was wiping the remaining tables, collecting up crumbs and sweeping them onto a plastic tray.

‘Hello.’ Karen tried to sound as though they were friends, or at least acquaintances.

Joanne looked at her, trying to remember if they had met before, probably assuming Karen came into the cafe quite often and expected to be treated like a regular.

‘Hello.’ Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She was dressed in the same black skirt and white shirt – her working uniform – but there was something different about her. Her hair was shorter and had a reddish tinge, as though she had given it a colour rinse.

Following Karen’s eyes Joanne lifted her hand towards her head, then remembered the damp cloth she was holding and returned to her duties.

‘All right if I sit here?’ asked Karen. ‘You’ve done this table haven’t you?’

Joanne nodded. ‘Wherever you like.’

Desperate to stop her walking away Karen asked how long the cafe stayed open.

‘Till eleven-thirty. Later some nights.’

‘But you don’t work here in the evening.’

Joanne looked puzzled. ‘How d’you know that?’

Karen grinned. ‘Alex Hogben – he lives with my mother.’

‘Alex is your stepfather?’ Joanne looked as though it was the most astonishing thing she had ever heard.

‘Oh, they’re not married,’ said Karen firmly, realising as she spoke that divorces didn’t take long these days and, in a matter of months, her mother could be calling herself Mrs Hogben. ‘Anyway you can’t really acquire a stepfather at my age.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ To Karen’s surprise Joanne seemed in no hurry to move away.

‘Alex said you’d been away on holiday. Went somewhere nice, did you?’

Joanne stared at her but said nothing. It was unnerving but having got this far Karen decided she might as well plough on.

‘You’ve moved into a flat, haven’t you? Lucky thing, I envy you.’

The blank expression on Joanne’s face had changed. Her skin looked pale and there were beads of sweat on her upper lip. ‘You knew Natalie, did you, that’s why you’ve been checking up. It’s always the same–’

‘No, no I never met your sister.’

But Joanne had picked up the tray and started walking away. Karen silently cursed herself for being so impatient. She should have taken things more slowly, talked about the weather, come to the cafe several times in succession, before assuming she had the right to mention anything personal.

On her way home she was convinced once again that someone was following her, but this time it was more of a feeling rather than anything she actually saw. The streets were busy with shoppers and it was only when she crossed the pedestrian bridge over the dual carriageway that she began to feel uneasy. Glancing over her shoulder she hurried down the steps, walked quickly down the main road, then doubled back towards the shopping centre, taking a small alleyway that ran between a church hall and the back of a block of flats.

‘Excuse me.’ The quiet voice was far more scary than a shout.

Karen spun round, just as a figure stepped out of a doorway. ‘Oh, it’s you. Did you have to give me such a fright?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Joanne had started walking. Karen hurried to catch up with her. ‘Were you following me before? No, it doesn’t matter.’

Joanne stared at her. ‘I was on my way to the launderette. I saw you in the distance, at least I thought it was you. You’re called Karen, aren’t you? After you’d gone I remembered Alex talking about you only I hadn’t realised . . .’

Karen looked at her pale, anxious face. ‘Look, shall we go somewhere where we can talk? If you like I could help you at the launderette.’