Out of a Clear Blue Sky

I was only half listening to the news yesterday when they talked about three men being arrested for the murders of a couple of pensioners in our village. As I walked Archie there was a helicopter hovering around which turned out to be a news crew.
It all sounded a bit weird - two people in the same street murdered eighteen months apart but not deemed suspicious at the time.
This morning reading about it on BBC news I was stopped in my tracks by the name of the eighty three year old female victim who died last May - Ann Moore-Martin.
Miss Moore-Martin was the headmistress at my primary school I went to from eight to eleven.
She was that teacher. The one you remember and still think of even after thirty three years.
She had masses of blonde hair all piled up on her head; she was impossibly tall and glamorous; she always had long, painted nails - and I used to love holding her hands and pressing down on the squidgy tops of her fingers behind the nails.
Her passion was drama. Back in pre National Curriculum days it's all I can remember doing! Coppelia, Oliver, The Wizard of Oz. Amazing productions with proper costumes and make up, fabulous songs and stage sets.
All in our school hall but it felt like the West End!
I was an orphan and a thief in Oliver and as I sang You Have to Pick a Pocket or Two I pulled the handkerchief out of the victim's pocket and the pipe (which the next pickpocket was going to pinch) flew out into the audience and I had to stand there like a lemon while it made its way back to me so I could put it back. All apparently without the victim noticing a thing!!!!
I was the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz - full on green make up, long hair back-combed to the max, a fabulous costume made of orange and black crepe paper. Miss Moore-Martin insisted on the most witchlike cackling shrieks!
I can still smell that green make up. I remember it all as if it was yesterday!
We also did endless choral speaking competitions (which we always won!!) We practised to the exclusion of pretty much everything else!! I can still recite The Pobble Who Has No Toes!!!!
My friend Miss K and I often reminisce about those happy days.
I'd have been sad enough if I'd heard that she'd died. But murdered???
I can't comprehend it. Less than five minutes from my house.
What an awful, awful way for such an inspirational, memorable life to end.