A woman's scorn

'Every time I deliver Lady Ashington’s evening paper, Charley is just knocking off work and on his way up to the House. It seems he doesn’t go home for a wash these days. I usually bump into him when I’m doing the morning milk and paper deliveries, coming out the house, on his way to work. But then his hair is wet so he must shower somewhere in the House. Has he shacked up with Sid?'

Miss Marple, eat your heart out! That girl misses nothing and draws nearly the right conclusions.

'So how long ago has this been going on?'

'Quite a while.'

'What time did he go up tonight?'

She stopped and pondered a sickle moon, silhouetted against the early evening sky.

'I stopped for a fag, then did the stables. About half an hour I’d say.'

I’m still surprised I didn’t burst into tears, but instead I became as hard as blue steel.

'That’s long enough for Charley. Georgie, if I gave you the gossip of a li