Tales of the Mantequero

Chapter 10

There were far more Blackers in the telephone directory than she had imagined, but only twelve of them had the initial J. She rang them all. Seven went to answer machine, four rang and rang with no reply, and the one that answered said there was no June Blacker at that address.

Feeling defeated, she slumped down in the chair staring at the page in the directory as if something there would inspire her. It did. She remembered that Miss Blacker said she lived near the library and looked closely at the addresses to see whether she recognised any of the street names as being near the library. She didn't.

Alison was a great reader of detective novels and she sat for a moment trying to remember what the procedure was for tracing missing persons. The first thing they did, surely, was look for them in the electoral rolls. She didn't know for certain, but she thought there might possibly be a copy kept at the library itself.

She put on her coat, picked up her briefcase and headed for the car park.

~ * ~

Alison sniffed appreciatively as she went through the big wooden doors leading into the library. She loved the smell of books and she loved the library. She visited it at least twice a week. There was something voluptuous about standing in front of the shelves choosing her next book - the delicious feeling that there were hundreds of books that she hadn't read yet, just waiting for her to discover them.

The librarian looked up and smiled at her as she walked up to the desk. They were old friends.

"Hello, Alison. How are things?

Alison smiled back. "Hi, Chris. I'm fine. Well, mainly."She paused. "I was wondering, do you keep a copy of the electoral rolls in the library?"

"We don't. They're at the council offices. What do you want them for?"

"I wanted Miss Blacker's address. She's a teacher at my school."

"June Blacker?"Chris raised her eyebrows. "Why do you want to know?"

Alison found herself talking in a rush, with no pauses between the sentences. "She didn't turn up today, and she always turns up. She's never had a day off all the time I've worked there. Nobody seems to have checked whether she's all right. I'm really worried about her."She stopped, aware that she had sounded like a small child desperate to explain herself.

A small, worried crease appeared between the librarian's eyebrows. "That doesn't sound like June. I've known her for years and she's very reliable."She allowed herself a small smile. "Doesn't even let her books get overdue. I can't imagine what might have happened."

She got up from behind her desk and walked over to one of the long windows overlooking the street. Alison followed.

"But I think I can help you out there. You see that row of new houses at the end of the street?"Alison nodded. "You see there's a gap halfway along? Well that's June's house."

"What there? In the middle of all that new building? How come ...?"

"It was her grandmother's house and the old lady refused to sell. She was a regular customer in here as well. A regular matriarch of the old school. They offered her a fortune for the house, kept upping the ante. But she wouldn't budge. Eventually they gave in and built around her."

Alison almost laughed, imagining the valiant old lady waving her stick defiantly in the face of the developers. She could see where Miss Blacker got her determination from.

~ * ~

At first she couldn't even see the little house. The gap between the new buildings was almost entirely filled with a tall privet hedge. But when she reached the gate, she could see a winding crazy paving path leading through bushes to what was probably a house beyond.

Big garden, Alison thought. Miss Blacker's grandma must have been well-heeled.

The house, when she reached it, would have been more properly-described as a cottage. It did have two storeys, but the upper was really just the attic space in the roof. Alison could see two dormer windows peeping through the thatch. The front door was of old, weathered wood with an iron horse-shoe for a knocker. The whole effect was charming. A hidden fairy-tale cottage in the middle of the urban complex.

She knocked on the door and waited but she didn't really expect an answer. The house felt deserted, the knock had a hollow, empty sound. She bent down to peer through the letter box. Nothing. All the windows must have been shuttered. It was pitch black in there and the space felt tiny, enclosed and musty.

"Can I help you?"

Alison shot up from her crouching position - so quickly that she felt giddy - and swung round to face the owner of the voice.

"I'm so sorry,"she stammered, feeling her face flare red. "I was looking for Miss Blacker."

The owner of the voice turned out to be an old lady of the twinset and pearls variety - literally - Alison could see the pearls peeping from the open neck of her sensible tweed coat.

"And did you expect to find her in the letter box?"The old lady's mouth twitched slightly at the corners as if she were suppressing a smile.

Alison, suddenly assailed by a vision of the enormous Miss Blacker crushed inside a letter box, had to smother a giggle. That was why it was so dark inside. It was actually, literally, a box attached to the inside of the door.

"I'm sorry."She gulped. "I must look as if I'm casing the joint."

This time the old lady really did smile. "I think a real burglar might be a little more discreet,"she said. Then, proffering her hand, "Mavis Wetherspoon. I'm Miss Blacker's neighbour. I've come to feed the cat."

As if on cue, a small grey and white tabby shot round the corner of the house. It halted for a moment as it took in the two women standing on the path and then launched itself into Alison's arms. Alison, caught off guard in the act of shaking Miss Wetherspoon's hand, let go automatically and opened her arms to catch the little creature.