Mrs Whitmore had them in the small morning room.Beth sat up straight with her hands in her lap. Emma sat beside her and wished she'd brought a different blouse."I'm not sure why you're here," Mrs Whitmore said, to Emma. "This is a family matter.""Beth asked me to come.""She did.""Yes."Mrs Whitmore looked at her daughter. "You asked her to come.""I did." Beth's voice was steady at the start. "Mum, she was there. She's a witness. You can't have a family matter about something that happened to me and then not let me bring somebody who was *there*—""Mind your tone.""I'm not being rude—""You're being rude, Beth." Mrs Whitmore set her cup down. "You came into my room at seven in the morning shaking like a leaf and told me a story about a warehouse,when you should be resting. Go on, then. Tell me the story again, and this time with your witness."So Beth told it.She got about ninety seconds in.Mrs Whitmore's head came round. "Pardon?""I said," Emma said, clearing her throat, "th
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