The house is even more picture perfect close up than it is from the kerb, all old bricks and rural charm. We enter through the back door, stepping into a kitchen that looks like something from an ‘Ideal Farmhouse Kitchen’ article from the nineties. From a tartan dog bed in the corner, Magnus looks up as we enter the room.
‘It’s all right, Magnus. Janine is a friend,’ Dorrit says. Magnus lowers his head in relief. ‘I don’t know why he bothers. The last time he acted like a guard dog, my husband was still alive, and he’s been dead for six years.’
Before I can say how sorry I am to hear that, Dorrit indicates for me to sit at the rickety table in the centre of the room while she makes our drinks.
‘You have a lovely home,’ I say as I succumb to her orders.
‘Thank you. It’s too big for me to manage on my own these days, but I won’t sell it. No, the only time I’ll leave this house is in a body bag.’ As soon as the words leave her mouth, Dorrit glances over hershoulder at me. ‘I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Not with everything that’s going on with Alexa.’
I duck behind my hair and study the grain of the wooden table.
‘You don’t want to believe death is what’s happened here? It is. They don’t send that many police cars for a woman they think has gone to pick up a loaf of bread and got lost on the way home.’
‘You don’t hold back, do you?’
Dorrit chuckles. ‘When you get to my age, you tend to become a little blunt. I’m sorry if my words are hard to hear, though. The good thing is, the end is coming, I can tell. I’m sure we’ll get answers soon.’
I look up as Dorrit approaches the table with an assortment of biscuits arranged neatly on a patterned plate. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘I do, dear. The dark cloud that’s been hanging over Bramblethorpe will soon pass.’ Dorrit selects a cookie and hands the plate to me. ‘Eat. You look drawn.’
The bubbling kettle announces it has finished boiling as I accept the biscuit. Taking an obligatory bite, I watch Dorrit shuffle back to the counter.
‘Do you mind if I ask you about Alexa?’ I ask.
‘Be my guest, but I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know her well.’
‘I know, but you never know what might come up in conversation.’
Dorrit laughs as she carries two mugs of tea to the table. ‘That sounds like a line from a detective show,’ she says, lowering herself onto the seat beside me. ‘Go on then, what would you like to know?’
‘Everything, I guess.’
‘Then I’m afraid I’m the wrong person to ask. I told you, Alexa Clarke might be my neighbour, but I don’t know her. Not really.’
‘Well, would you say Alexa was happy?’
‘What a question! Are any of us happy? We’re all good at pretending we are, but are we? Alexa Clarke is my neighbour. I see her put the bins out or sit in her garden. I can’t tell if she’s happy. She certainly doesn’t seem it. But I can tell you one thing: she’s lonely.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because lonely people know how to spot other lonely people,’ Dorrit replies, and I find myself looking at her with new eyes. Dorrit’s home is big enough for a large family, but now it’s reserved for only her and Magnus. There’s an air of decay about the place, as if no matter how hard she cleans, the job is still too big for her to do alone. In fact, now when I look around, I see that loneliness is such a way of life here, it’s practically ingrained in the walls.
‘Either way, happy or sad, Alexa changed during the time she lived here,’ Dorrit continues. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how reclusive she became. I never saw anyone go into that house and rarely saw Alexa leave. Other than for her walks, of course.’
My ears perk up. ‘Her walks?’
Dorrit nods. ‘Like I told the police, walking was the one thing Alexa did every day. It was pretty much the only time she left the house.’
‘Do you know where she went?’
‘Oh, here, there and everywhere, I imagine. You don’t have a figure like hers without working to maintain it. Even those genetically blessed reach a point where they must exercise,’ Dorrit jokes, patting her stomach.
‘Did she go out at the same time every day?’
‘She usually went in the morning. Mid to late morning, perhaps.’
‘How long did she stay away from the house for?’