7 Sorrow on Sunday (11 page)

“All taken care of,” Cowgill said. “I’d been preparing Mrs. Smith for what she should do when he turned up,” he added.

“And if he didn’t turn up?”

“That too,” said Cowgill. “Now, Lois, I’m afraid I have to ask you to give me an account of how you found him. And also, I fear, I have to ask you why you didn’t tell me you were on his trail?”

“I wasn’t. I just saw him, in the middle of the road, on my way home from Waltonby.”

“I’d like you to follow me to the station, please. Then we can get down what you remember, while it is fresh in your mind.” He saw her expression, and added hastily, “That is, if you can manage it right now? Can you ring Derek . . . or Gran?” Before she could reply, he hopped into his car and started the engine.

“How kind of you, Inspector Cowgill,” Lois muttered to herself, “to congratulate me on restoring the missing boy to his family.” She reached for her mobile phone, and dialled her home number.

*   *   *

I
NSIDE THE
S
MITHS’ WARM SITTING ROOM,
D
ARREN SAT
curled up in his big armchair. His mum brought him a mug
of hot chocolate, his favourite. She smiled at him, and leaned forward to kiss his scratched cheek. The terrified look in his eyes was slowly fading, and as he sipped the hot drink he seemed to relax a little.

“Better now?” asked his mum.

He nodded, and managed a small smile. “Horses,” he said, and drained the mug.

L
OIS WENT IN THROUGH A BACK ENTRANCE AT THE POLICE
station. Was this a good idea? It was certainly official, but if something nasty was going on, it might be stupid to be seen anywhere near the cop shop. After several years of sleuthing for Cowgill, her name was known amongst the criminal fraternity.

“Right,” said Cowgill in his best policeman voice. “Sit there. Would you like a coffee? Feeling a bit upset?”

Lois couldn’t be bothered to reply. “Let’s get on with it, shall we,” she said. “I’ve got an appointment this afternoon.”

Cowgill sighed. His dream of a nice cozy chat with Lois was clearly not going to happen. But then, he should have known that. “Fire away, then,” he said. “Just begin at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

He was right in saying it would still be clear and fresh in her mind, and she gave him a lucid, chronological account. “Darren doesn’t talk at all, really. Just has a few words, and when scared to death he can’t get anything out,” she said finally. “Mostly he just parrots what people say to him, and I reckon even then words don’t mean anything to him. ‘Mum’
is
real to him, and so, apparently, is ‘horses.’”

“Horses?”
said Cowgill. “Why horses?”

Lois shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said. “All I know is that he is very good with them. He was at a point-to-point with the Battersbys. Something must have happened to make him run, but God knows what. It’ll make your job difficult, won’t it?”

Cowgill explained that they had long experience of people who couldn’t, or wouldn’t talk. In Darren’s case, a lot would depend on how much his mother could get out of him.

“Pressure will obviously be a bad idea, so we shall take it gently. Meanwhile, Lois,” he added, “I’d be most grateful if you—”

“Yes, yes,” Lois interrupted, “I’ll see what I can find out. And, by the way, I might as well tell you, seeing as you’re bound to find out.”

“Tell me what?” said Cowgill, smiling lovingly at her. Oh, dear, would he ever be able to tell her how he felt? Of course not, you silly old fool, he said to himself. Get on with your job, else you’ll be relieved of it before your time.

“I’ve taken on Dot Nimmo as a cleaner. Member of the team.” She stood up. “I’ll be off now, before I get a lecture. Cheers.”

“Just a minute!” said Cowgill. “I know better than to lecture you. If you have taken on a devious, dirty and unreliable widow, I am sure you have a good reason for doing so. Keep in touch, Lois. And thanks for this morning. Darren Smith was lucky that it was you who found him. Take care.”

*   *   *

G
RAN WAS STANDING ARMS AKIMBO WHEN
L
OIS CAME
into the kitchen. “And what time is this to come home for your dinner?” she said.

“You knew I’d be late, so don’t go on, Mum,” Lois said. “Couldn’t tell you before, but I found Darren. Just came across him in the road a mile or two outside Waltonby. He ran, but I caught up with him and got him home. Then I had to go to the police station to make a statement. Is there anything left to eat?”

Gran opened the oven door and drew out a plate. “Fish and chips,” she said. “I hope they’re not dried out. Sorry, love,” she added. “Me and Derek, we worry about you, y’know. I’m not asking any questions about Darren until you’re ready to tell, so sit down and get this inside you. A nice walk across the meadows this afternoon with Jeems, that’s what I suggest. I might come with you, now the sun’s out.”

Lois shook her head. “Got an appointment,” she said,
and began to eat. “Can’t change it, but after I come back we could maybe get a walk before tea.”

Gran bit back a sharp retort, and put on the kettle. “You’ll have time for a coffee, won’t you?” she asked, then changed the subject. “Women’s Institute this evening,” she said. “Should be good. We’ve got an old bloke coming in to tell us all about the Tresham Studio Brass Band. How it started an’ that. Doris Ashbourne from Ringford suggested it. She said she’d heard him speak once before, and he was brilliant. Memory like an elephant, she said. You can come as my guest, if you like?”

Lois smiled. Her mother never gave up trying to enlist Lois into the WI. Lois knew they were a nice bunch, and had interesting speakers, but held out against it. She could never tell Gran the reason, but she felt quite strongly that she did not want to be a mother-and-daughter pair, always out together, seen as one. She was not proud of this.

“Not tonight,” she said. “I’m looking forward to a bit of peace in front of the telly. Been quite a day so far.” And it hadn’t ended yet, she realized. Blanche had something to tell her, and it could be important.

“Better be going,” she said. “Can’t be late. Fussy client.”

“Where?” asked Gran suspiciously.

“Other side of Waltonby,” Lois replied. “Sooner I go, sooner I’ll be back for a walk. Bye, Mum.”

*   *   *

I
N THE OLD INN IN
T
RESHAM MARKET PLACE, THE KNOT
of farmers was breaking up. They’d had a fair bit to drink, and were placing bets on who’d get breathalysed on the way home. “I’m meeting Margaret shortly,” said Joe Horsley. “She’s been spending m’money all morning, so she’ll drive us back home.” He was the last to leave, and lingered, saying he’d arranged for Margaret to come and find him. It was quiet after the others had gone. There were not many left in the bar, and Joe turned to talk to the landlord.

At that moment, the door swung open, and a tall, commanding figure strode in.

“Morning, landlord,” Horace Battersby said firmly.
“Whisky, please, same as usual. Morning, Joe. Shall we sit over there in the corner, where we’ll not be disturbed?”

*   *   *

W
HEN
L
OIS RANG THE BELL AT THE
B
ATTERSBYS’ HOUSE,
it was opened immediately. “I was looking out for you,” Blanche said with a smile. “He’s in Tresham this afternoon, so you can come in without fear of being turned out again!”

She’s as perky as a dog with two tails, thought Lois. Obviously not something dire she has to tell me. She followed Blanche into the drawing room and sat down as instructed. She refused refreshment, saying she had another call to make. This was a lie, but Lois had an uncomfortable feeling that the Colonel might appear, steam coming from his ears, before she could get away.

“Fine,” said Blanche, “then I’ll come straight to the point. We have decided to sell the horses. Now that our saddles and bridles and stuff have all gone, Horace is reluctant to buy more. We were insured, of course, but it has made us realize we’re getting a bit too old to handle those big creatures, and perhaps now is the time to give up.”

Lois looked puzzled. “Um, but how does this affect me?” she said. Surely Blanche hadn’t set up this meeting just to tell her that?

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Blanche said, settling herself comfortably in her chair. “We’ve both got quite fond of Floss, and once or twice she has said how much she loves horses. Used to ride quite a lot, apparently.”

Lois nodded. She knew Floss had admired the old mare up at the Hall, and had softened Mrs. Tollervey-Jones’s gorgon heart as a result.

“You probably won’t believe it, but it was Horace’s idea. He wants to give the young mare we bought last year to Floss. Her name is Maisie, and she has a really gentle nature. We would offer to keep her here, as we shall have empty stables, and there’s the paddock doing nothing, too. A plus for us is that we would still have a lovely horse to look at.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re telling
me
,” Lois said. “It’s really between the Colonel and Floss. I must say I think it’s a very generous offer.”

“Ah, well, you see we thought you might object to a gift to one of your employees from one of your clients. Bad business practice. All that. So I promised to sound you out first. Of course, if you object, then we shall do no more about it.”

“So you haven’t mentioned it to Floss? Or her parents? I presume they would have to buy new tack, and pay for upkeep?”

Blanche nodded. “Yes, there would be that,” she said.

Lois thought for a moment, and then said, “I’d like to think about it for a couple of days, if that’s all right. Meanwhile, we’d better not mention it to Floss.” She got up to leave, and Blanche put her hand on Lois’s arm.

“Horace is not one for generous gestures, Mrs. Meade. It would be so nice if we could encourage him this once.”

As she drove home, Lois felt so weary that she had to make a conscious effort to concentrate. One overriding thought was still with her when she entered her house. What was the Colonel up to? She did not believe for one moment Blanche’s generous gesture theory. He would have a good reason, and it would not be affection for his cleaner, however blonde and attractive. Good mares cost money, lots of money. Well, she had a couple of days to find out.

G
RAN DIDN’T MENTION THE WALK.
S
HE TOOK ONE LOOK
at Lois’s weary face, and went off to light the fire in the sitting room. When she came back, she said, “I’ve put the telly on and it’s
The Clangers
. Why don’t you sit down and watch for a bit. You know how you loved them.”

Lois looked at her sharply and frowned. “Kids’ television? I haven’t sunk that low, Mum. Anyway, I’ve got a few notes to make.” She hesitated at the kitchen door. “Still, I suppose I could do those later . . . Are you sure it’s
The Clangers
now?”

The twilit other-world of the tiny knitted creatures, with piping sounds their only form of communication, the soup dragon and the trumpeting hoots, were oddly soothing. Maybe Darren would be more at home on the Clangers’ planet. The pleasant voice of the story-teller lulled her into a calm that soon turned to a doze.

Gran later came in with the tea tray, with a pot-bellied teapot under a quilted tea-cosy, and set it down. Lois opened her eyes. “Oh, has it finished?” she said, and sat up straight. “Mum,” she said, “I’ve been thinking. Do you know anything about the Battersbys? Where they came from, who their friends are, anything at all?”

“Why do you ask me that out of the blue? Battersbys? Them over at Waltonby, where Floss cleans?”

“Are there more somewhere else?” Lois asked.

“How should I know? I’m a Tresham girl, don’t forget. I only know about the Waltonby family from what you’ve told me. He’s an army man, isn’t he?”

“He certainly was,” Lois replied. “Retired now. I’m
not sure what he does with his time. Keeps horses, and loses his temper quite a bit. Was mad about having his tack stolen. Floss says he treats his wife like a servant. That’s about it.”

“Horses, yes. I remember your father used to talk about him at the point-to-point racing. I’ve heard his wife is very nice, but under his thumb. Military men are like that, Lois. Good thing Derek was never in the services. Mind you, you’d never’ve been under his thumb!”