The Piggy Farmer (The Barrington Patch Book 3), Emmy Ellis [electric book reader txt] 📗

of her to cool her overheating face. “This is getting worse by the minute.”

“Sorry to put all this on you, Dor, but I see you differently now, someone to turn to. Mam seems to think I can keep going without any emotions involved. Dad drummed it into me to keep myself hardened, and I was doing so well until Brenda rang me.”

“What did Brenda want?”

“Sharon went round hers to say Bob and Gorley have been on the news. Some bloody copper leaked it to the press that Bob was missing in suspicious circumstances, yet Mam’s police contact assured her he was hushing it up. I don’t need fingers pointing our way. If coppers get sent to the factory, those forensic ones, and Marlene is tested…”

Doreen’s head lightened, and she swallowed the saliva that flooded her mouth. “We don’t need that.” She didn’t need that. She’d been there, in that effing side room with Marlene. Despite it being cleaned, the police might find something and… “Get rid of the leak.” She couldn’t believe she’d said that, especially with it being an officer and how she’d told Lou not to bother, but whoever was pouring oil on troubled waters, ready to light it then sit back and watch things burn, could cause a hell of a lot of hassle.

“I thought the same, I just needed a different perspective to see if it was the right thing to do.” Cassie tugged at a plait. “Not the right thing, but you know what I mean.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but holes need to be plugged. Lenny would want you to do it.”

“That’s the problem half the time, Dor. I’m listening to Lenny’s tune, even when he isn’t alive to play it.”

Chapter Thirteen

The Barrington Life – Your Weekly

FEBRUARY FAYRE AND POLICE NEWS

Doreen Prince – All Things Crime in our Time

Sharon Barnett – Chief Editor

FEBRUARY 2020

As you’re probably aware by now, two police officers from our town have been on the news. PC Bob Holworth went missing on the road out to Worksop, his car seemingly vanishing, and ex-DCI Robin Gorley was burnt inside his shed. This is tragic, and Cassie has asked me to urge you all to be respectful of the coppers’ families during this terrible time. Plus, she’d like us to send flowers to Robin’s funeral, so a collection box will be on Sharon’s face-painting stall at the Fayre. You can pop your small change in there, or even a fiver if you’re feeling generous. Cassie has started the pot up with two hundred pounds. Francis has offered two thousand towards Robin’s funeral costs. This will help Melinda Gorley out no end.

Now, while we’re not fans of pigs, we don’t condone one of them being torched, do we, so please, if you know owt, go to the police station and let them know. We live in sad times if people are resorting to murdering those who try to keep us safe, and as for Bob going walkabouts, that’s really strange, concerning, so the sooner he comes home the better.

In other news, there’s one stall left at the February Fayre this coming weekend (here’s hoping the snow buggers off by then). As you know, proceeds from stall rentals are going to The Lenny Grafton Homeless Fund, a charity he set up to help those without housing in our town. There were still a couple of people on the streets as of this morning, no high-rise flats vacant for them, but Francis has paid for them to stay in Vera’s B&B for now. A round of applause for that woman! She’s already got the ball rolling on buying a couple of houses in Salway Street and turning them into bedsits for those who may find themselves without a place to call home in the future. Your money will help buy things like beds and such.

Also, don’t forget to show up at the Fayre and enter the competition to win the all-inclusive holiday in Spain, donated by Cassie. Money raised by buying a ticket for a quid will also go to the homeless project.

I for one am proud to live on the Barrington with people like Francis and Cassie ensuring things get done. While Robin’s death and Bob’s disappearance are sad events, let’s remember who we are and how we come together in a crisis. If we join as one, we can buy a carpet of flowers for Robin’s graveside.

RIP.

Chapter Fourteen

Eighteen-year-old Doreen and Lou left The Donny, staggering along the road towards their home on the Barrington. They both lived in the same house, renting, sharing the kitchen and bathroom, their other housemate, Janine, away on holiday in Cornwall. It had felt so good to leave their respective childhood places, branching out. Exciting, too. They were free of parental constraints, allowed to do whatever they liked, or it seemed that way anyroad.

Summer had gifted the town with lots of sunshine this year, the air cooling—only a tad, mind—darkness fully eclipsing the lingering daylight. Doreen’s nine-till-five job at the bookies had been a Godsend, coming right at the time she’d wanted to leave home. Frederick, the owner, was a friend of her dad’s. Doreen wasn’t daft. Dad would have put in a good word for her, then Frederick had made out he was casually chatting to her in the pub about needing an assistant, and: “Oh, so you need a job? Well then, that’s settled. If you want it, that is.”

Lou worked in Betty’s Blooms, selling flowers, training on the job to become a florist. She had plans to run her own shop, so she’d said, and life was on the up. Doreen didn’t like Betty; the battle-axe had told her off plenty of times over the years, like she had the bloody right. Doreen didn’t usually carry slights over from childhood, but with Betty she made an exception. The