Secrets on Saturday Page 5

  “OK, you’ve done it now. I’m off home. You can ring me, but don’t be at all sure I shall speak to you.” And Floss was off, running down the street and disappearing into Hornton House.

  Ben laughed to himself. “She’ll be back,” he said, and turned into Blackberry Close. As he came to his house, his eye was caught by something moving in the garden of old Mr. Everitt’s house. Then a car started in the road outside, and drove off, much too fast. Funny, that, he thought. Still, perhaps the old boy is back. Ben opened his front door and forgot all about it.

  N

  INE

  POOR OLD BLOKE, THOUGHT LOIS. SHE WAS SHOPping in Tresham, and passed the police station, looking up—as always—to Cowgill’s office window. But there was no stiff figure raising a hand in greeting. Compassionate leave, guessed Lois. There was so much to do in organizing a funeral. But he had a daughter living somewhere over Waltonby way, so wouldn’t be completely on his own. She knew there wasn’t much warmth in the marriage, but they had stuck together and even a rather chilly wife was a companion. Someone who was there all the time, made the meals, talked about this and that.

  “Hey, steady on!” It was Cowgill, and Lois had nearly sent him flying. “Good heavens, it’s you, Lois,” he continued. “Not looking where you were going. I could book you for a traffic offence!”

  “S-s-sorry.” Lois was nonplussed for a moment, and Cowgill jumped in while she rapidly collected her thoughts.

  “Got time for a coffee?” he said, and a small smile flickered across his face. Lois hesitated. Probably a bad idea for them to be seen together, if she was to go on working for him. On the other hand, it would seem churlish and hard-hearted to refuse. He read her thoughts. “I know a nice little café, dark corners and private. Mind you,” he added hastily, “I only mean …”

  “I know what you mean,” Lois said. “And yes, I’d love a coffee. Lead on, and I’ll follow a few paces behind.”

  He led her through the market place and into an alley down by the Gloucester Arms. She waited a few minutes after he’d disappeared into a small café tucked into a corner next to the churchyard, and then went in to join him. In the Stygian gloom, she couldn’t see him at first, but then saw a hand wave from the corner and went quickly to sit down.

  “I’m really sorry. What happened?” she said.

  “Thanks. It was so unfair.” He looked down at his hands. “She was driving along at thirty, coming back from the daughter’s down a narrow lane, and these kids in a stolen car hit her head-on. Drunk, high, God knows what else. Stolen car. They weren’t touched, but she was killed instantly.” He picked up his cup of coffee and his hand shook, so that some spilled on to the table. Lois quickly wiped it up with a paper napkin and put a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t say any more if you don’t want to,” she said.

  “It’s just to be got through,” he replied dully. “Daughter and her family are very good, considering they’re shattered too. We’ve all just got to get through it.”

  They sat in silence for a minute or two, and then Cowgill said, “It’s good to see you, Lois. Thanks for coming here. How’s your family?”

  Lois smiled. “Oh, the usual, you know. Derek’s still struggling to be head of the family, Gran is a tower of strength and a bit of an irritation at the same time, Josie and her bloke are doing as well as can be expected in the shop, and the boys are away and I’ve no idea what they’re up to.”

  “Not much change, then,” said Cowgill, with a touch of envy. “Any news of old Herbert Everitt?”

  Lois looked up in surprise. “Are you sure you want to talk about it?” she said.

  “Yep,” he said. “Keeps my mind off graveyards.”

  Lois shivered, and thought hard. Surely there must be something useful she could tell him? “I still haven’t got hold of Reg Abthorpe,” she said, “but I think I saw him again, driving quickly through the village. I’m certain it was his old car.” Then she remembered the woman and the terriers, and described what had happened. “She was definitely watching me,” she said. “And those terriers were killers, I reckon. When she came out and dragged them into the house, I caught sight of her, and though she seemed a bit familiar, I couldn’t place her. But Jean Slater …” And then she told him about that, too, and for a few moments he was the old Cowgill, coldly concentrating and registering everything she said. Then he sank into a silent heap, his face closed, and she judged it time to go.

  “Must get to the fish stall before they sell out,” she said. “I’ll go first. And …” She hesitated. “And if there’s anything I can do—even if you just want a chat—you know where I am.” She felt her eyes smart, turned away and made for the door.

  THE AFTERNOON WAS FINE, AND, SEEING THE SUNLIT garden, Lois decided to take Jeems for a walk. Which way should she go? Down the concrete road and across the stream, then back across a muddy pasture? Or up one bridle path and back down another? Or the same way as she went the other day, and risk confronting the sheepdog? She hadn’t decided when she saw Floss walking by, on her way to meet Sheila at the vicarage. “Hi, Floss!” she shouted from the window. “How are you getting on? Come in for a minute.”

  The girl was smiling broadly as she walked up the path. She had liked Mrs. M. straight away. You knew exactly where you were with her. “Fine, thanks,” she said. “I am enjoying it, and Sheila is very helpful. We went to the Hall …”

  “And?” said Lois.

  “It was OK, except for the stuffed animals. I could do without those!”

  “They’ve bin dead a long time,” said Lois cheerfully. “Nothing you can do about them now. Anything else?”

  The girl hesitated. “Not to do with work,” she said, “but me and Ben—oops! Still everybody’ll know sooner or later—we’re an item at the moment.”

  “Nice boy,” said Lois approvingly. “But what about him?”

  “Well, we were going for a walk in the twilight—very romantic—and it got dark and we were on the edge of the woods, and we heard these voices …” Then the rest of it tumbled out, and she ended, “Just wondered if you knew who they were? And what they were doing there?”

  Lois shook her head. “Advance party from Mars?” she said, and was surprised at the vehemence of Floss’s reply. “Not you too!” she said, and then added quickly, “Ben said much the same thing. Sorry, Mrs. M. It’s just that he does treat me like a child at times.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lois laughed. “Now, you’d better get on to the vicarage, else Sheila will be out looking for you.” After Floss had gone, Lois stared out of the window, thinking about men’s voices in the woods. She wished she’d asked her if they’d seen or heard dogs.

  “Mum,” she said, going to the kitchen to collect Jeems. “I think I’ll go out with this pest here, work off some of her energy.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Probably up the hill as far as the woods. I’ll see how she goes.” She attached the lead with difficulty and set out, stumbling here and there as the puppy entangled herself in Lois’s legs.

  IN A CLEARING IN THE WOODS, REG ABTHORPE, WITH a battered hat pulled down over his eyes, stood talking to two men. One was tall and thin, with rounded shoulders and a shifty look. He never once looked at Reg, nor at his companion, who was short and rotund, with a completely bald head. “You must be bloody stupid,” Reg said, glaring at them. “You know the rules! What are you trying to do? Scupper the whole business? Get the bloody thing straight away, and bugger off. Vanish, until I tell you to come back. And keep your traps shut, or else.”

  In seconds the men had gone. Reg lingered for a moment, his eyes closed, composing himself. Then he too disappeared from the clearing, following a well-beaten path to the thicket where he had hidden his car. “Sod it!” he said loudly, as he drove down the lane at speed. A woman and small dog were coming towards him, still some way in the distance, but he recognized her. It was that cleaner woman, and the last person he wanted to meet.

  He made a quick
decision. No chance of passing her so quickly that she wouldn’t have time to see him. Couldn’t run her down, though in his fury he would have liked to. One damn thing after another! He put the car into reverse, and backed as fast as it would go to an entry into the woods, turned and sped off in the opposite direction.

  Lois had seen the car. What on earth was it doing? Some stranger lost his way, she guessed, and once more encouraged Jeems to walk in a straight line. “Surely that isn’t so difficult?” she said, looking down at the hairy face. Then she walked on until she came to the entry. Not much point in going in there, she thought, not in broad daylight. She walked on, and came to the neglected fields, with the old house in the distance. No sign of the sheepdog, but she was brought to a halt by the puppy stopping, tugging at the lead and whimpering. “It’s not around,” she said. “Come on, silly.” She tried pulling, but with no success. Then her eye was caught by something hanging from a farm gate a few steps ahead. “Ye Gods!” No wonder Jeems was terrified. A large, very dead badger had been tied by the neck to the top bar of the gate. She felt her gorge rise, and swallowed hard. At that moment she caught sight of the old farmer hobbling towards her, the sheepdog at his heels. If she retreated quickly there would be time to prevent another attack.

  “ ‘Ere, missus!” The old man quickened his pace. “I want a word with you!” His voice sounded distressed, and Lois hesitated. Perhaps he was in trouble. The dog seemed to be sticking close behind him, so perhaps … She picked up Jeems and held her tight. The old man had reached the badger now, and stopped suddenly. Lois saw him sway and lean on his stick. She rushed forward, and, tucking Jeems under one arm, managed to help him away from the grisly sight and on to a grassy bank the other side of the road.

  “Can you sit down for a minute?” she asked. “You’ve had a shock.” Now what? She thought. No brandy, no hot sweet tea … and no mobile telephone. Left it at home the one time I really need it, she cursed.

  But the old man seemed to be recovering. He sat down gently, and his dog crouched beside him, its eyes fixed on the puppy. “What did you want me for?” Lois said, hoping to take his mind off the corpse.

  “I forget,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Anyways, I don’t suppose you did that, did you. Even a stupid old fool like me knows that.”

  “Who did, then? D’you know?”

  The old man looked at her. “No!” he said with force. “No idea.” But Lois could see that he knew and was not going to tell. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he began to struggle to his feet. “All right now,” he muttered, and walked shakily towards the badger. Lois followed, worried that he might collapse again. “Look at that,” he said, pointing to where she could not help seeing that there were cuts all over its body and the skin was pulled from its legs.

  “I think I have to go,” she said faintly.

  He looked at her. “Right-o,” he said quietly. “Thanks for your help. Don’t say anything about this. A secret between us, heh?” His voice was pleading now, and Lois nodded. Anything to get away from here.

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” He nodded, and watched her walk away down the hill. Halfway down she turned around. He was still standing there, with the dog immobile at his feet, and she raised her hand. He did the same, and she went quickly on without looking back.

  T

  EN

  BY THE TIME LOIS REACHED HOME, DEREK’S VAN stood in the drive. He must have come home early, and Lois had never been so glad to see him. “Hey! What’s wrong, gel?” he said, as she flung her arms around him and hugged hard. “Mind you,” he continued, kissing her hot cheek, “I’m not complainin’.”

  “Looks like a cuppa is needed,” Gran said, and put on the kettle. “Where’s the pup?” she added. A scratching at the door answered her question, and Jeems bounced in, dragging her lead.

  Derek detached her, and turned again to Lois. “Sit down, me duck,” he said, “and tell me all about it.”

  Lois took a deep breath and sat down at the table. “I went for a walk,” she said. “Unaccustomed as I am to going for walks, I looked at Jeems rushing round in small circles in the garden and decided to give her a change of scene.”

  “So which way did you go?” Gran said. “What did you see?”

  Derek sent her a look that said “have patience,” and she turned back to her tea-making, her shoulders huffy.

  “I went up to the woods, up the narrow hill. And just past the wood, coming up to the old farmhouse, I saw this …” She gathered herself together, gulped, and described what had been hanging from the farm gate. Gran gripped the rail of the Rayburn, and Derek’s face darkened.

  “So it’s all started up again,” he said angrily. “No wonder you look like you’d seen a ghost,” he said.

  “But that’s not all,” Lois said, and sighed with relief that she was through the worst bit. Then she told them about the old man, and his reaction at seeing the badger. “Who is he, Derek?” she said.

  Derek knew most people, either from his travels as an electrician, or from cronies in the pub. “It’s old William Cox,” he said. “His family have farmed there for generations. Now there’s just him. His wife’s dead, and they never had no kids. He works that farm—in a manner of speaking—by himself, with an old tractor and a bit of help at harvest. He can’t possibly do it much longer. The whole place, as you’ve noticed, is fallin’ down.”

  “Do the woods belong to him?” Lois knew that a large acreage on the hill was owned by a big estate and farmed by contractors.

  “Not sure,” Derek said. “He don’t do much woodin’, so it’s all thicket and brambles. One or two clearings, but mostly too dense to get through.”

  “Clearings?” Lois remembered Floss’s tale of voices and a torchlight. “You mean grassy bits where people can picnic?”

  “And the rest,” said Derek grimly. “All kinds of mischief got up to in those woods. I thought it was in the past, but now …”

  “Badger-baiting,” said Gran, fed up with all this pussy-footing around. “We had a talk about it at the WI. It’s terribly cruel, and we’re supposed to be on the lookout … tell the police, an’ that.”

  “So should I tell them about the corpse?” Lois looked at Derek, who shook his head violently.

  “Don’t tell nobody,” he said. “That’s why old William pretended not to know. They’ll take revenge. Could be nasty.”

  “How will they know it’s me?”

  “Oh, they’ll know. Spies and lookouts everywhere. Half the village was at it at one time. And the farmers don’t say anything, partly for fear of revenge, and partly because they don’t want badgers on their land, giving the cattle TB. No, forget you saw it, me duck.”

  Lois said nothing more, and changed the subject to pleasanter matters. “WI tonight, Mum?” she said. “Who’s the speaker?”

  “Some woman telling us about being a magistrate. Another of the Mrs. Tollervey-Jones variety, if you ask me. I was talking to Ivy Beasley at Ringford on the phone this morning she’s still very pleased with Bill, by the way—and she said it’d be that bossy Phyllis Franklin from Waltonby. They had her at Ringford WI, and she was as boring as—”

  “Yes, right, well, I must get on. Thanks for the tea. I’ll be in my office for half an hour or so. Thanks, Derek,” she added, and patted his shoulder. “Now, don’t you forget, me duck,” he said. “No telling your pal Cowgill about that badger, else I shall end up looking for you in the woods one of these dark nights.”

  In her office, Lois sat down at her desk and shut her eyes. At once, a perfectly detailed picture of the badger formed in glorious technicolor, and she opened her eyes quickly. She had to get the horror out of her head somehow, and tried to concentrate on New Brooms matters. Sheila and Floss seemed to be getting on fine, and Hazel was as efficient as ever in the Tresham office. Enid was happy at the vet’s house and an elderly lady’s tidy cottage in Fletching. And Gran had said Miss Beasley was still pleased with Bill.

  Miss I
vy Beasley: one of Lois’s most tricky clients. She lived alone in Round Ringford, had lived there all her life, and very much resented being old and not capable any more of keeping her house up to the spotless standard she required. She had stipulated that Bill Stockbridge was to be her cleaner. He had a way with sheep and cows, and the vet valued his assistance, but, more importantly, he also had a kindly charm which went down very well with old ladies. Ivy Beasley considered herself proof against such wiles, but lately Bill had been asked to sit down for a minute or two after he’d finished. “Just for a quick chat,” Ivy had said, and half an hour later he’d had to ease himself politely out of the front door.

  It might be worth calling on old Ivy, Lois thought. She’s bound to know something about the Cox farming family. And possibly about Herbert Everitt. She was reputed to have second sight, but Lois knew that she was just a nosey old woman who had spent her life disapproving of what went on around her. “Meat and drink to Ivy,” her friend Doris had said.

  “Going over to Ringford to check all’s well with Miss Beasley,” she said to Gran, as she went through the kitchen to her van.

  “I just told you she’s very pleased!” Gran was irritated, sure that Lois was up to something again. “There’s no need for you to go out now.”

  Lois stopped. “Mum,” she said, “I run my own business, and it’s doing well. And that’s because I know what I’m doing. So don’t worry—shan’t be long. Bye.”

  “That’s put me in my place,” muttered Gran. But she knew she was right. Lois was telling the truth, she was sure, but only so far. She got that from her dad. He’d been a genius at it.

  MISS BEASLEY’S DOOR WAS SHUT AND LOCKED FIRMLY, as usual, and Lois walked round to the back door. The old thing was quite deaf now, though she hotly denied it, and did not always hear the door bell. Lois could see her in her usual chair, next to the range, her back to the window. A tap on the glass pane might make her jump, so Lois knocked lightly on the door.