That morning started like most other days at 82 Creswick Terrace. Darcy had struggled out of sleep, padded to the kitchen, and prepared breakfast for the two of them. He made up his bowl of high fibre cereal and a bowl of sliced peaches for Vero, toast, and tea for the two of them. There was no sound from Brianâs room. If the radio had been playing softly Darcy wouldâve made him up a bowl of peaches as well and left it on the kitchen table so Brian would be sure to have something healthy to start the day. While he waited for the jug to boil he looked out the window at the overgrown garden. He shook his head a little, as he had for the last few years every morning. Once it had been his pride and joy. Half an acre of garden, mature trees and flowering shrubs. There were a couple of terraces of lawn. Not too much to mow. Darcy had never been one for lots of lawn. Well, Brian still kept that part of the garden tidy. There was that to be said for the boy. Boy? He wasnât a boy any longer. Heâd probably be what, 32 or 33 now. Needed a job that one. Darcy carefully picked up the breakfast tray and headed back to the bedroom where Vero had nearly finished her morning stretch routine.
By 11 oâclock Vero and Darcy were dressed and getting ready for their drive to the supermarket. It was as much a social occasion as it was a shopping trip. Darcy did the driving. Vero thought it was a bit of a strain on him now, but he felt very much in control still. Of course, Vero could drive. She was a bit of a whizz really. A little more daring with the accelerator than Darcy was, but then the insurance premiums didnât come out of her bank account.
Actually, they didnât come out of Darcyâs either. Brian saw to that. Darcy had to give him credit. Brian reckoned he could manage that little bit for his old mum and dad. Heâd also managed to get together enough money to have the house painted a couple of years ago. That mate of his whoâs supplied the paint at such low rates had been a godsend. Darcy had been at his wits ends trying to figure out where the extra money would come from. The house, freehold now of course, was about all that stood between them and the old folkâs home. That was the last place either Darcy or Vero wanted to see the inside of. No, it was going to be their last port of call, this place. Well, their only port of call when it came down to it because theyâd lived there all their married life. That was nearly forty years now. Lovely little place it was too. Those bloody estate agents were forever banging on the door or slipping notes through the mail asking them to sell. Course, they could sell easily. Lovely spot, close to the city, nice views, lovely garden. Well, it had been a lovely garden. Now of courseâŚDarcy shook his head as he and Vero slipped on their coats and walked to the garage.
âCome on, Chook. Weâll be late.â
âOh, for heavenâs sake, Darcy. You think the girls on the check-out are lining up for us?â
âNo, but I want to get up to the Bowling Club later. Itâs another one of Bloody Blanesâ revenge matches. Donât want to be late to deliver his slaughter. Again.â He laughed, âThe bloody little prick.â
âMm, well Iâm ready.â
They made their way out to the garage. They had to walk past Veroâs part of the garden. Well, it wasnât so much a garden, being a tidy greenhouse where Vero raised her fuchsias. Brian always said it was like walking past a little bit of heaven. That pleased his mum no end. The greenhouse was a blaze of fuchsias in standing pots and suspended baskets, Veroâs green thumb an acknowledged winner in competitions from one end of the country to the other. Veroâs greenhouse and the bit that Brian kept tidy were the only parts it was safe to walk around. Brian had told his dad heâd seen a feral cat or two down the back recently, and they could be nasty little buggers if cornered.
They always enjoyed a good time at the supermarket now. Brian had worked out some sort of credit scheme with the nice young manager, so they were able to get what they wanted and just sign for it. Certainly, made it a lot easier. Brian took care of the grocery account. He said it was the least he could do if he was going to be getting in their hair by living at home again. Of course, Vero was happy as anything to have him there. After that unfortunate business with the hot cars, and a nasty time when he got blamed for some sort of racket another so-called friend of his had cooked up, and then the Periodic Detention. No, having Brian at home was good. You knew where you stood with Brian in the house. He paid his way. He was looking for work of course, but a good job was getting hard to find. Thank heavens he had a little put away.
They always saw people they knew at the supermarket. They were able to take their time, chatting and comparing the week with various ones from the neighbourhood. Darcy got a thump on the arm from Vero at the checkout when he started skylarking. Heâd seen her grazing on some parsley in the vegetable section and he couldnât resist when they got to the checkout. Vero was busy talking to young Joyce, the checkout girl, like she always did. She liked this young one; she was a gardener too and lived just around the corner. Darcy caught Veroâs eye and putting on a horrified look had scratched at his teeth while he whispered to Vero, âParsley!â Vero had gone two shades of red until Joyce caught her eye and giving Darcy a withering look had simply shook her head. He was still getting an earful from Vero about it as they drove into Creswick Terrace. Because he was trying to placate Vero, Darcy took the turn into the garage wide and fast nearly clipping the silly bugger who was standing too close on his side of the car. It gave Darcy a bit of a fright, skinny Neville Blanes suddenly appearing in his face like that.
âMr. Darcy Trevallyn?â
âYeah, of course itâs me, Neville. What are you doing here? Iâll be on my way to the club after Iâve had a spot of lunch. Did your dad send you down to try and talk me out of finishing him off this arvo?â
âHello Neville, dear. Howâs your mum?â
âGood afternoon, Mrs. Trevallyn. Mumâs fine thanks.â
âDadâs fine too, thank you. Mr. Trevallyn, we need to have a word with you, please. And you too, Mrs. Trevallyn. This is police business.â
Darcy and Vero both looked at Neville Blanes carefully. The same thought went through their heads. After forty odd years of marriage telepathy was an acknowledged fact, âsay nothing.â
âOh, righto Neville. Maybe you can give us a hand with the groceries.â
âMy men will see to that, Mrs. Trevallyn.â
âBy golly, Neville. Must be serious if you have to be so formal, Darcy chuckled. â Come on inside then. Got a bit of back-up with you then?â
âYes, I have Mr. Trevallyn and, under the terms of the warrant weâve already been inside the house, Mr. Trevallyn.â
âNow, why would you want to do that, Neville?â
âWe were hoping you might be able to give us some answers to that, Mrs. Trevallyn.â
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