Page 72 of The Good Neighbour

“Really?”

“Yes,” Mrs Wimpole said, shifting farther forward in her seat. “We watched the video of that awful chat show incident. Then we viewed the one from the wedding.”

“And there’s the same person in both,” the Professor interjected.

Mrs Wimpole shot him a glare that would freeze hell. He appeared to be blissfully unaware. Josh feared he would suffer for taking the dramatic reveal from her.

Not to be outdone, Mrs Wimpole reached under her coffee table and produced two printed photos.

She handed them to Josh with a flourish.

“Stills.”

Josh examined them.

“There’s no doubt,” he said. “It’s definitely the same guy.”

A ridiculous number of garments lay in front of them on the table. Prototypes of all descriptions. This was the moment they would get exactly the right design. It was an unconventional way of working but Josh had always preferred to hold the piece in his hands. Something connected with him.

“Are you up to this?” Suzanne asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been away with the fairies since you came in.”

He couldn’t deny it. Ever since he’d left Mrs Wimpole’s, his mind had been blown. Luckily, once Michael had left, the evening had been taken up with activities that came instinctively to him.

“Okay, if I tell you something, you cannot repeat it.”

“Goes without saying.”

And it did. For the millionth time he realised how much he’d missed her.

“Mrs Wimpole has evidence that this backlash against Hugh is on purpose.”

She dropped a cream corset. “What?”

Of course, it sounded crazy to anyone not closely involved. Yet Josh remained convinced. Before he’d gone home, he had walked around the block. Mrs Wimpole had made him promise not to tell Hugh until they had more evidence which he’d reluctantly agreed to. Although he felt highly uncomfortable keeping something so important from him.

“There’s the same guy at the chat show and the wedding.”

“Fuck. Hang on, Mrs Wimpole? What the hell has she got to do with it?”

“Don’t even go there,” Josh replied. “I appear to have found myself in a crime-fighting trio.”

Suzanne cackled. “I’m not laughing at Hugh. What has he said? He must be terrified.”

“I haven’t told him yet.”

“Josh.”

“I know. It might still be a coincidence. Mrs Wimpole is working on it.”

Suzanne shook her head. “You’re playing a dangerous game, my friend.”

They sifted through items. Each putting them in piles of possibilities and rejects. He watched her going diligently about the task. She flitted her beautiful eyes from one garment to the other.

“Suzanne.”