Dora Tilling

Mrs Dora Tilling is seventy-eight and lives on her own in a cottage below the allotments, a short walk from the harbour on the western side of town.

The cottage is small and well kept, with a blue front door and a window box that has seen better summers. A ceramic cat sits on the gatepost. Inside there are framed photographs on the mantelpiece and a basket of knitting beside the armchair. The kettle goes on before a visitor has sat down. Biscuits follow on a plate, and the good cloth is on the table.

She is slight and white-haired and moves carefully. She does not like to make a fuss, and will say so.

One Sunday evening in October 2025 her cat did not come in. Whiskers, a grey tabby of twelve named by her granddaughter, spent his days at the harbour, was in for his tea at five and was always home before dark. Everyone told her that cats wander. She said that this one did not. The police were not interested, and Mrs Finch mentioned the matter to Mr Penrose over his tea.

Mrs Finch looks out for her. Tom Bennett, at the chandlery, used to keep fish scraps for the cat.

Where you will find her

At home, on the lane below the allotments. The cottage is a private residence. There is a ceramic cat on the gatepost.