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please talk to Mi … Constable Scott.’

He looked at her. ‘How old are you, miss?’

‘Seventeen.’

‘Then you’ll need to be accompanied by an adult.’ He turned to Dora. ‘If you wouldn’t mind going with her, Miss Dummitt, we’ll be on our way.’

‘Now?’ Dora raised both bushy eyebrows.

‘Yes. I have the car and we can get you there and back in no time.’

Dora puffed at her pipe, her head tilted, as though considering whether she should go or not.

‘I could ask Jess,’ Ronnie said in a small voice, dreading Dora going with her.

‘Jess?’ Dora glared down at her. ‘She in’t your trainer. No, miss, I’m the one ter go with you. It in’t no use to be arguin’. We need to get this cleared up once and fer all so’s we can let go termorrer mornin’ for Bull’s Bridge. So we best be on our way.’

At least she kept her ear to the ground, Ronnie consoled herself, and always knew what was going on along the canals. And Deadly Dora wasn’t intimidated by anyone – least of all the police.

Ronnie sat with Dora, her chin buried in her scarf, in the back seat of the police car. At least it was warm. At the request of the inspector, Dora had put her pipe out and was fidgeting with her hair, grasping one stray yellow curl, then another, and pushing them back under her cloth cap. Every so often Ronnie gave her a sideways glance but Dora stared straight ahead, her mouth moving as though still puffing on her pipe.

Ronnie felt a cold sweat seeping into her vest as she thought of the two of them in an interview room and tried to cling on to the fact that they had nothing on her. She hadn’t done anything. But had Will?

In a daze she gave her name at the counter and followed the inspector and Dora along a short dark corridor. He opened a door at the far end and gestured for Dora to go in.

‘Ah, Miss Dummitt. Please take a seat.’

That was Michael’s voice! Ronnie’s heart soared. Everything would be all right. He would explain everything and get this mess sorted out.

She stepped into a room no bigger than their front room at home. She noticed the blackout curtains had already been pulled, and a solitary bulb hanging from the ceiling wasn’t giving out much light. The room was bare of any niceties. A steel filing cabinet stood like a sentry at one side of the door, there were a couple of overhead cupboards and a few hardback chairs scattered around a large central table.

Michael came towards her. ‘Miss Linfoot, would you like to sit by Miss Dummitt?’

She gave him a half smile but there was no smile in return. Not even a hint. For a moment she was dumbstruck. Then she realised. Of course he couldn’t allow himself to show any kind of favouritism. He was on official duty and wouldn’t want it to be known that they had shared something much more than a few routine conversations. She took a deep breath.

Inspector Jackson nodded to Michael to be seated, then took the fourth chair. He began to shuffle some papers, then looked across the table at Dora.

‘May I have your full name, Miss Dummitt?’

‘Dora Edith Maisie Gladys Dummitt.’

‘Have you ever been known by any other name?’

‘Them’s enough names fer anyone, I reckon,’ Dora said, with a wry twist of her lips.

‘Dora Edith Maisie—’ The inspector spoke the names as he began to write, then looked up. ‘What was that last one?’

‘Gladys.’

‘Oh, yes. Dora Edith Maisie Gladys Dummitt. You’re sure that’s it?’

Dora threw the inspector a frosty look. ‘I oughta be sure of me own names, though what that’s got ter do with you, or Ver-ron-eek, I can’t imagine.’ She fumbled in her bag and extracted her pipe.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Dummitt, it’s no smoking in the interview room,’ Michael said, sounding apologetic.

Dora rolled her eyes and tutted but put the pipe back in her bag.

‘We’ve called Miss Linfoot in for some further questioning, Miss Dummitt, about this black-marketing ring, and in particular, her relationship with William Drake, but I’ll get back to you in a few moments.’

Dora’s eyes flew wide. ‘So that’s what this is all about,’ she said. ‘That young rogue, Will Drake.’ She glared at both policemen. ‘Well, Ver-ron-eek here don’t have nothin’ ter do with him.’

Ronnie didn’t dare look at Michael. How embarrassing that he was sitting opposite, his eyes intently watching her.

‘Go ahead, Miss Linfoot,’ the inspector said.

‘I-um-I don’t know what you mean.’

‘How well do you know William Drake?’

‘Not very well.’

‘How often have you met him?’

‘I don’t meet him,’ Ronnie said indignantly. ‘I’ve just bumped into him a few times, but only since I’ve been training on the boats. Miss Dummitt will verify it.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Ronnie saw Dora’s features harden and her hands grip the sides of the chair.

‘Is that correct, Miss Dummitt?’

Dora nodded. ‘She wouldn’ta known him before then – I can vouch for that.’

‘How can you be so certain?’

‘She don’t mix with his sort. She’s from a good family and they in’t from this neck of the woods.’

‘What did you talk about on the occasions when you “bumped into him”?’ the inspector said, looking at Ronnie and emphasising the bumping in.

‘He helped me prepare one of the locks once, and he gave me a lift on his motorbike when I went to the village shop one morning and was running late.’

‘Is that all?’

‘He brought us food the other day – not just for me but for all of us. It was very thoughtful of him.’

‘Were there any luxury foods that you never see now in the grocery shops?’

She swallowed. Mustn’t mention the bacon and marmalade. After all, they’d all enjoyed the unexpected treats even though Jess remained suspicious as to how he came by them.

‘I didn’t notice anything.’

‘Cigarettes?’

‘No.’

‘Hmm.’ The inspector stroked his jaw. ‘But he regarded you as his girlfriend, did he not?’

‘No, I didn’t say that,’ Ronnie blurted, her

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