Secrets on Saturday Page 11

  “I know,” said the man, his grin fading as he peered into Lois’s car. “I’m from the estate agents, and have to put up a For Sale board.” Like a parody of a property salesman, he added, “Can I interest you in an historic old farmhouse with great potential for restoration?”

  Lois glared at him, and drove off rapidly, sending a shower of grit and gravel over the young man as he got out of his car.

  * * *

  AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT, LOIS FOUND BILL ON DUTY, helping out at the vets. He was now part-qualified so that he was trusted to do preliminary examinations, and Lois was very glad to see him. “I was hoping it would be you,” she said. “Here, can you help me with a dog in the back of the car.”

  “Not Jeems!” said Bill, knowing Lois’s feelings for the terrier.

  Lois shook her head. “Nope, a sheepdog. I’ll explain in a minute. Let’s get her looked at first.”

  As Bill lifted her, Rosie once more yelped in pain. “Never mind, old girl,” he said as he put her on the examination table. “I’m just having a little look.” He took each leg in turn and very gently moved it. His face was dark when he looked up at Lois. “This dog,” he said quietly, “has four broken legs. And she’s emaciated and dehydrated. Almost no pulse. For God’s sake, Mrs. M, what’s been going on?”

  Lois explained as clearly as she could, and her voice shook. “Bill,” she said finally, “is it possible somebody could’ve broken an old dog’s legs deliberately?”

  “Or she could have been run over. But there’s no crushing or other injuries you would expect.” Bill was silent for a moment. “Would you like to stroke her, Lois? Calm her down? I’m afraid there’s really only one thing to do. I’ll get Mr. Wright to come in and confirm. It’ll be the kindest. We’ll give her some peace.”

  Rosie looked up pleadingly at Lois, who held her head gently, stroking her and speaking consolingly. Mr. Wright came in, and quite soon the light went slowly from the dog’s brown eyes and she was still.

  T

  WENTY-T

  HREE

  “LOIS! WHAT ON EARTH HAS HAPPENED TO YOU?” Gran was dressed in her best, and about to set out for the village hall, where the annual Flower Show was in full swing.

  “It’s not what happened to me,” said Lois, slumping down on a chair.

  “Who, then? For God’s sake, Lois, not one of the children … or Derek?”

  Lois looked up at her, and her eyes were full of tears. “No, just an old dog. Left to die in agony up at Cox’s Farm. Four broken legs and no food or water. Oh Lord, Mum …” And she got up quickly and rushed to the cloakroom, from where Gran could hear the unmistakeable sounds of Lois being sick. When she came back, Gran had the kettle on.

  “Sit down there,” she ordered, and continued, “now you just tell me what you were doing at Cox’s Farm. As far as I know, he hasn’t required the services of New Brooms?”

  Lois shook her head. “No, he hasn’t. And now he certainly won’t. The house is empty, everything gone, and a man was about to put up a For Sale notice. I heard Rosie whimpering when I was scouting round to see what was happening. There were chickens needing food, and I found some in a barn. And I found Rosie. The vet’s put her to sleep.”

  Gran patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry, duckie. You did the right thing. But it really is none of our business, is it. No doubt the vet will tell the police, if he thinks there’s been cruelty. Well, all this explains why Mrs. T-J phoned to ask where you were. Worried me, I can tell you. Anyway, you’d better give her a ring. You know what she is.”

  Lois groaned. “Yep, all right. I’ll do it now. Stand by with the brandy.” She went off to her office, and Gran heard a contrite Lois explaining with an excuse that had nothing to do with an injured dog. “I’d better be off,” she said, coming back into the kitchen. “The old bag is livid. It was only my routine check, but apparently Floss didn’t turn up, either.”

  “I know,” said Gran. “She rang after you’d gone, saying she had a migraine and was throwing up. She was sure she’d be fine by tomorrow. I explained that to Mrs. T-J, but I don’t think she was listening.”

  “Not my day,” said Lois, taking her car keys off the hook. “See you later.”

  “What about food?”

  “No thanks. Not hungry at the moment. Bye.”

  WHEN LOIS ARRIVED AT THE HALL, THE HOUSEkeeper answered the door. “I’m afraid Mrs. T-J has gone to the Flower Show,” she said. “She’s a judge.”

  “I bet she is,” muttered Lois. “I had an appointment,” she said, and the woman flushed.

  “So sorry,” she replied. “Mrs. T-J mentioned it, and said I was to ask you to wait. I think you were supposed to be here earlier? She was quite cross … In fact,” she added, “she was furious. Not used to being kept waiting, I’m afraid.”

  “Nor am I,” Lois said. “I have work to do, and I’ll give her a ring to fix a convenient time for me to come back. It was only a routine check on the cleaner.”

  “She didn’t turn up either,” said the housekeeper nervously. “That made it a lot worse.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for you,” said Lois. “But Floss’s absence was explained. Perhaps you would tell Mrs. Tollervey-Jones I shall be sending a replacement tomorrow. If that’s not convenient, let me know. Goodbye.”

  She drove off at speed, down the tree-lined drive and out into blinding sun at the gates. Just in time, she saw a dark shape crossing the road and stood on the brakes. She leapt out of the car and looked along the grassy bank. It was a badger, and it hardly moved when she approached. From her research, she knew badgers were nocturnal animals, and if seen out in daylight, were likely to be diseased. As she stood wondering what to do, it shambled off, disappearing into the thick grass and undergrowth. Maybe it wasn’t sick. Perhaps it had woken up too early and was confused. Lois turned back to her car. More likely to be sick, maybe with tuberculosis, and a danger to cattle. Quite legal to shoot it, then. She thought of the law, and realized it would be good to talk to Hunter Cowgill. It was treacherous ground she was treading. She needed help, and reached for her mobile.

  “Hello? Is that you?”

  “Who else?” Cowgill smiled. His Lois. His day brightened instantly.

  “Well, listen.” she said. “I need to talk to you, and it would be best face-to-face. There’s quite a lot to say, and I’d like some advice.”

  “Well, my dear Lois, I never thought to hear you say that!” He fancied he could hear her draw in her breath ready for a blast, and added quickly, “Of course we can meet. Usual place? Eleven o’clock tomorrow morning soon enough?”

  “Yep. Oh, and by the ways how’s everything?”

  “Improving,” said Cowgill. “See you tomorrow.”

  BEFORE TURNING INTO HER DRIVE, LOIS REMEMBERED again the For Sale board and the pushy young man. She had been able to think only of poor Rosie, but now she decided to drive on and call in at the estate agents in the next village. It was only five or six miles, and she was quickly there. The street was deserted, and she pulled up outside the offices. First she looked at every property advertised for sale in the window, and Cox’s Farm was not among them. Probably not this agent, but one in Tresham. It was worth asking, and she went in. New Brooms cleaned these offices, and she was welcomed warmly by the blonde receptionist.

  “Morning, Mrs. Meade, how are you?”

  They got the small talk out of the way, and Lois said she was pleased Bill was still satisfactory. Then she said casually, “Did I hear Cox’s Farm is for sale?”

  The blonde shook her head. “Not with us, Mrs. Meade. I must say it’s a surprise to me. Isn’t that where old William Cox lives? Has he gone into a home, or, well, passed on …?”

  “I have no idea,” said Lois. “It was just that I heard through the grapevine. Well, I must be on my way. I’m glad everything is going well. Bye.”

  The afternoon was nearly gone, and Lois felt she had achieved nothing. Might as well go home and do some paperwork, she decided. Then she reme
mbered Floss being ill, and thought she would call in and commiserate. The quickest way back home was through narrow roads and past Cox’s Wood, but she felt a stab of nausea again at the thought. By the time she reached Long Farnden, Mr. Pickering’s car was in his drive, and she hesitated. He was bound to want to know if she’d discovered anything more. No, she’d give them a ring and enquire after Floss. She accelerated and drove past.

  “So, are we telling Derek about your finding that dog?” Gran had been thinking, and had decided to take a firm line.

  Lois stared at her. “Of course,” she said. “Why not?” This took the wind somewhat out of Gran’s sails, and she replied that she was well aware that Lois kept a number of things to herself and she didn’t want to put her foot in it.

  “Lovely flowers,” Lois said, with an obvious change of subject. “Where did you get them?”

  “Flower Show, of course,” Gran said. “They had a stall selling them. I think these came from the Hall.”

  “Should be the best, then,” said Derek, coming into the kitchen with a cheerful smile. “How’s everybody?” He looked at Lois, and added, “No, don’t tell me. Not until I’ve had a cup of tea.”

  When he’d washed and changed, and they were sitting down to tea, he said to Lois, “All right then, let’s have it.”

  “It’s just a little hiccup,” said Gran desperately.

  “Don’t be daft,” Lois said. Then she gave Derek an account of her day, and he raised his eyebrows.

  “Poor old love,” he said. “I hope they catch the buggers who done it. Old William was fond of that dog, even if he did yell at it a lot. And what’s this about the farm being for sale? I’ve just come by, and saw the sign. No sign of old Cox. Nothin’ going on there at all, except for a couple of chickens wandering in the road. Nearly squashed ‘em.”

  “There was something else,” said Lois, and she told him about the badger.

  “Don’t worry, gel,” he said. “I’ll ring old Fred Watts. He’ll go out there with his gun and put it out of its misery. He does a good job.”

  Lois suddenly felt very tired. She smiled at Derek with difficulty. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll go and put the telly on, shall I, and we’ll catch the news.” She would try to push the whole dismal day from her mind until she saw Cowgill tomorrow.

  Gran looked at them both. “Telly news is always bad,” she said. “Why don’t we wash up and then have a nice game of Scrabble? Forget the telly for once?”

  They stared at her. “Are you mad?” they chorused, and Lois went to switch on the television.

  T

  WENTY-F

  OUR

  THE SUPERMARKET WAS CROWDED, AND LOIS WAS glad. She acknowledged that the meeting place was a clever one, and once in the little room at the back of the bakery section, she felt quite safe from prying eyes. But getting there was different. She always met someone she knew, and had to make sure they weren’t watching her. This time she was lucky. The supermarket seemed full of complete strangers, and she went straight to the bread counter.

  “Four iced buns, please,” she said. “And a wholemeal loaf.” As she took her purchases, she made her usual request. “Um, I need to go to the loo urgently,” she whispered to the assistant. “Bladder trouble … you know …”

  The girl nodded sympathetically. “Through there,” she whispered in return. “Second on the right, end of the passage.”

  At the first door on the left, Lois knocked. Cowgill opened it, and she walked in.

  “Morning, Lois,” he said, his eyes shining. “How are you and yours?”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’m just supposed to be having a pee, so it’ll have to be quick.”

  “Fire away,” he said, and she gave him a succinct account of most of the developments, leaving out her visits to Ellen Biggs in Ringford. She was not having blundering policemen upsetting the old thing. Nor did she mention Pickering’s concern about his daughter, as he’d specifically said he didn’t want the police involved.

  When she had finished, he nodded gravely and said, “I knew you’d be in touch. We had a call from the vet yesterday. Dreadful business. It’ll have to be investigated. And this apparent disappearance of William Cox—well, maybe the old man has gone to a relative, or an old folks’ home. Until somebody gives us evidence for real concern, there’s not a lot we can do.”

  “Same as Herbert Everitt?” Lois snapped. “How much concern do you need? That old man’s got no relatives, except a dodgy bloke who says he’s his nephew. I’m concerned, and so’s my mother. And so is Enid Abraham. Have you contacted Reg Abthorpe yet?”

  “Lois,” Cowgill said patiently, “I’m not making excuses, but …”

  “But Herbert Everitt is low on your list of priorities? An old man apparently taken into a nice comfy home by his loving nephew. No real complaints? Just a general feeling that something’s not quite as it should be? Right at the bottom of the queue.” Lois was scarlet with rage, and turned towards the door.

  “Lois,” replied Cowgill, smiling desperately at her, “I was going to say that we’re almost sure his name is not Reg Abthorpe. We have several leads, and are on his trail.”

  “In other words, you’ve got nowhere. Any more thoughts about retiring?” she added, and immediately wished it unsaid.

  His smile vanished, and he was every inch the policeman. “All right, that’s probably enough for today,” he said. “Do you need my help at all?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I need to know what to do next.”

  “Just carry on in the way you know best,” he said. “I wouldn’t dream of giving you any instructions. But I will say this, Lois. Be very careful. It begins to look like something more dangerous than a few locals carrying on a traditional village pastime. We’ll be getting round to that. You’re right, I’ve not given it enough thought. For reasons which I don’t have to spell out. Leave it with me, and I’ll be in touch. Thanks for coming.”

  Lois walked away through the supermarket, cursing herself for being so unthinking. Poor old sod had not long lost his wife, and she had attacked him mercilessly.

  “Hey! Penny for ‘em!” She looked up and saw Bill, basket over his arm.

  “Oh, hello,” she said. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

  Bill looked at her and wondered exactly how many miles away. “Just doing a spot of shopping for our nice old thing at Hall Cottages. She’s very grateful for our help, and finds it difficult to get out.”

  “Well done,” said Lois, making an effort. “But next time, it’s in your contract that you use Farnden village shop whenever possible …” She managed a smile, to show it was a joke, and they parted.

  LATER THAT DAY, FLOSS RECEIVED A CALL ON HER MObile. “Hi, Ben here. Are you better? Doing anything tonight?”

  “Yes, I am better. It was a migraine, as usual. And yes, I’m going out with Prince William,” she replied.

  Ben was indignant. “Why, when I’m around? Anyway, ditch him and meet me at the end of the village as usual. Six o’clock? Or you can bring His Princeship with you, if you like. Seems like a decent sort. Bye, beautiful. See you soon.”

  At ten to six, Floss walked up the village street and met nobody. The only activity was round the pub, and that was in the opposite direction. Even so, she was aware of eyes behind lace curtains watching her as she passed. God, I wish I lived in a big town, she thought. Then I could live my own life without the watchers. She didn’t really mind being watched, if it brightened their pathetic lives, but objected strongly to having her every move misinterpreted and relayed by devious routes to her parents.

  Ben was waiting for her, and they walked away from the village arm-in-arm.

  “Well,” said Ben, “where’s Himself?”

  “I dumped him,” said Floss. “Said I had better fish to fry. Satisfied?”

  Ben laughed and kissed her. “Sensible girl,” he said patronizingly, and she thumped him on the upper arm where it hurt. In this fashion they walked on, and when they came to the la
ne that led to the woods, Ben steered her into it.

  “No, Ben!” she objected. “Not up there. Let’s go straight on and across the fields.”

  “Boring,” said Ben. “And anyway, there’s something I want to check up there. Come on, Flossie, you’ve got me to defend you. Courage, ma petite!”

  “Blimey, I don’t know what I see in you,” she said, but walked obediently beside him up the hill. It was a dull evening. Rain had been threatening all day, and now a huge bank of black cloud approached over the woods. “I wish I’d brought an anorak,” Floss said.

  “Any more complaints?” Ben said, and this time he sounded genuinely irritated.

  Floss pulled herself together, and said she’d be perfectly all right. There were plenty of trees for shelter, and anyway, she was sure he’d lend her his jacket. In this rather less than harmonious atmosphere, they came to the woods and Ben stopped.

  “We’re going in. It’ll be quite safe. Men were in here this afternoon, so they wouldn’t come back so soon. I’d like to see what they were up to.”

  “What makes you so sure they won’t come back?” Floss stepped reluctantly over the stile, and followed Ben closely along the path. “What were you doing up here this afternoon, anyway, when I was slaving away on my hands and knees with a scrubbing brush?” She paused, but Ben did not reply. “Hey!” she continued. “I’ve had an idea! Would you like me to suggest you join the New Brooms team? Just until you get a proper job? You could be a sort of spare—”

  “Sssshhh!” Ben stopped in front of her, and she cannoned into him. As they listened, Floss could hear quite clearly a liquid whistling tune not far away.

  “Blackbird,” she whispered. “They often sing at twilight. Isn’t it great?”

  Ben exhaled loudly, and resumed walking. “I was thinking,” he said. “Sitting on a log and thinking for a long time. Then I went exploring further into the wood, and found something which I’m going to show you. Very interesting.”