7 Sorrow on Sunday (17 page)

“H
ELLO? IS THAT
N
EW
B
ROOMS?
A
H, GOOD.
T
HIS IS
Mrs. Margaret Horsley here—Willow Farm.”

Lois’s eyes widened. “Good morning, Mrs. Horsley,” she said, gathering herself together. “How can I help you?”

Lois was sitting at the office desk in Sebastopol Street, holding the fort for Hazel, who had gone to the dentist. She couldn’t believe her luck. This was definitely the wife of Joe Horsley, farmer, and colleague of Colonel Battersby—though just what “colleague” meant, Lois was not yet sure.

“Do you remember your husband doing a job for us? Yes? Well, I know you won the lottery, and I was thinking maybe you’d packed in the cleaning business?”

“No, no,” Lois said. “New Brooms is still here, and I’m still running it. And Derek is still doing electrical work. No problems, I hope?”

“Goodness, no! No, the reason I’m ringing is that I was talking to my friend Blanche Battersby, and she says you’d sent her a wonderful cleaner called Dot. Strongly recommended, she said. Now, I need a couple of hours’ help in the house every week, and wondered whether you could fit me in. But I would like Dot, if that’s possible. What is her other name, by the way?”

Antennae waving about madly, Lois felt sure there was something odd about this call, something that told her this was not just a lucky chance.

“We always try to fit in with clients’ wishes,” she replied firmly. “But because of illness, or need to change schedules, we reserve the right to send whoever is available. All our staff are thoroughly trained and completely reliable. Now,” she added, deliberately ignoring the question about
Dot’s surname, “I would like to come and see you at a convenient time to discuss the work and answer any questions.”

There was a pause before Margaret replied, “Yes, of course. I’m free on Wednesday morning, around ten thirty. Would that suit?”

“Fine. I’ll see you then. Goodbye, Mrs. Horsley.”

“Just a minute! You haven’t told me Dot’s—”

Lois heard Margaret’s question, but she put down the phone and entered the appointment in her diary.

*   *   *

M
ARGARET
H
ORSLEY SWORE.
W
AS THE
M
EADE WOMAN
deliberately withholding Dot’s name? In which case, there was something funny going on, as Horace had said. She had lied about being a friend of Blanche, but thought it would sound more convincing. On the rare occasions they had met, Blanche had either patronized her or ignored her all together. Well, she supposed that was fair enough. Her fling with Horace had been a secret at first, but had become general knowledge after a while. Once Joe found out, and seemed reluctant to do anything about it, news of the affair got round all the drinking and gambling circles. Margaret still couldn’t forgive Joe for not putting a stop to it, but had become more and more convinced that Horace had some hold over him.

Horace had asked her to ring New Brooms, suspecting that Dot was a plant. He hadn’t seen her, but from Blanche’s description, he guessed she was one of the Nimmo lot from Tresham, and he was certain he knew who had planted her. It would be Mrs. Meade, the cleaning boss and part-time sleuth in cahoots with the police, according to information he had received.

Now Margaret had to ring Horace to tell him she had failed, and to ask what she should do next. She dialled his mobile number and waited. His reply was like staccato gunfire. “Damn! Hire the woman! Report back.” Margaret sighed. She wished she was married to one of those nice, jolly farmers they met at the Hunt Ball. Comfortable wives
in cushy situations, matriarchs of farming dynasties, indispensable and contented. Or were they? At the farm bordering Willow Farm, Margaret knew that the farmer’s wife had not been able to have children, had had a nervous collapse, and was now virtually a recluse, while her husband played the field at the club in Tresham.

She shook herself. These were useless thoughts, and she might as well forget about it until Wednesday, when she might be able to find out more.

*   *   *

H
AZEL CAME INTO THE OFFICE HOLDING HER CHEEK.
“These dentists!” she said. “I reckon they find something to do, even if it’s not necessary. It was only a check-up, and now I’ve been tortured for half an hour under the drill. Ouch!”

Lois stood up and put her arm around Hazel’s shoulder. “Now listen,” she said, “it’s home for you. Painkillers and some nice sloppy food. Bridie’s not working today, is she? She asked for time off, in case you weren’t able to cope with Lizzie.”

Hazel nodded, and said in a voice that sounded as if she had a hot potato in her mouth, “Yeah, Mum’s got her. Are you sure, Mrs. M? Will you be able to stay?”

“Yes, I can work from here. The wonders of laptop computers! Get off now, and then you’ll be fine tomorrow. Take care, Hazel. Oh, and a little whisky and water helps, so Derek says. But then, he doesn’t need toothache to try that remedy! Go on, gel. Off you go.”

Hazel tried to smile, but yelped again, and left, waving a pathetic hand.

Lois picked up the phone. “Mum?” she said. “Shan’t be back for lunch. Hazel’s gone home with a painful tooth. Yes, Bridie’s looking after Lizzie, so they’ll be fine. Love to Derek, if he turns up. See you later. Yes, I’ll get a sandwich. Promise. Bye.”

Bringing up the week’s schedule on her computer, Lois looked to see where Dot Nimmo was working today. She was pretty sure she was at Alice Parker-Knowle’s. Yes, Dot was there from two o’clock. Right. She got through to her,
and asked her to call in at the office when she had finished at Alice’s. “And don’t stay longer than your three hours,” she said. Dot exploded. She protested that she never got paid for any extra time, and she wouldn’t dream of asking for it. It was a good turn she was doing for a nice old lady.

“Yes, all right,” said Lois. “But it’s important that I see you as soon as possible before I go home. Yes, I’m here all afternoon. Thanks, Dot.”

The day went quickly, with phone calls from potential new clients, and one or two existing ones. There were seldom complaints, and when Mrs. Pickering telephoned in to talk to Lois about Floss, she wondered what was up. Floss was not allowed to work for her mother. This was one of Lois’s rules, and so it couldn’t be a cleaning problem.

“It’s about this horse, Mrs. Meade,” Mrs. Pickering said. “Floss is feeling a bit better now, and has said she really would like to have it on the Battersbys’ terms. She’s had a bit of a rough time with illness lately, and her father and I would like to help her out with paying for upkeep and so on. As you know, she’s saving up to get married, and says she couldn’t possibly afford it herself.”

“Are you getting round to telling me Floss wants to get a better-paid job? If so, Mrs. Pickering, I would quite understand, though I’d be very sorry to lose her.”

“Gracious, no! Floss loves working for New Brooms. She’s never been so happy. Says she’s found her métier!”

Lois laughed. “Good. Then what’s the problem? I’d be quite happy about that, as long as you make sure she’s under no obligation to the Battersbys. I wouldn’t want her to feel indebted to them. No need to oblige them in any way that she didn’t want to.”

“What do you mean by oblige?” Mrs. Pickering said.

“Oh, well, extra jobs without telling me, that sort of thing.”

Mrs. Pickering sounded relieved. “Yes, of course,” she said. “For a minute I thought you meant oblige the Colonel in . . . er . . . well, you know, in some unpleasant way . . .” She tailed off lamely, and Lois laughed again.

“Don’t know him that well, Mrs. Pickering,” she answered, “but I’m sure he’s not a dirty old man. If you can ever be sure,” she added honestly. “But she only has to leave at once and tell me. New Brooms has ways of dealing with that sort of thing.”

What
had
she meant? Lois asked herself later. She was beginning to distrust anything connected with the Battersbys. All roads seemed to lead back to the Colonel. She knew what Derek would say. How could she expect to trust anybody named Horace?

D
OT ARRIVED AT THE OFFICE EXACTLY TEN MINUTES AFTER
the time she had finished at Alice’s. Lois glanced at her watch, and wished she hadn’t.

“No need for you to check the time,” said Dot crossly. “If I say I’ll do a thing, I do it. And I’ll be glad if you could show the same trust in me as you do with the others. You’ve had no cause to doubt me so far, and you won’t have. So if it’s all right with you, as I’m out of paid time, I’ll go home and get me tea.”

“Sorry, sorry!” said Lois. “I apologize! I wasn’t checking up on you, though I can see it looked bad. Now come and sit down, Dot. I want to talk to you about something important. D’you want a cup of tea?”

A little mollified, Dot nodded and said she’d make it for both of them. Once they were settled, she looked at Lois and said, “It’s about the Battersbys, isn’t it?”

“Sort of,” Lois said. “I need to know for my business purposes what previous connection you’ve had with the Battersbys. I’ve had roundabout requests for your surname from them and their friends. I’ve stalled them so far. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but I got this feeling. I have it sometimes, and it never lets me down.”

Dot was silent for a minute or so. Then she squared her shoulders and began to talk. “I’ve not told you everything,” she said, “and you could say I hadn’t been straight. Well, you give me a chance, when I bet everybody tried to turn you against me. The Nimmo name is not a good’un in Tresham. My Handy sailed close to the wind in more ways than one, and he had friends and relations to back him up.
People were scared of him, not to put too fine a point on it. There’s other mobs in town, o’ course. But Nimmos was known to be the most powerful. Can’t tell you a name for the others. Honour among thieves, my dad would say. Dad didn’t approve of my marryin’ Handy, but the old devil always treated me well. Not stingy, not with me.”

“And the Battersbys?” prompted Lois.

Dot told her what she had already told Alice. It had been a case of non-payment of a bill, with the Colonel accusing Handy of screwing him over, and refusing to pay. “Handy got his revenge, though. Nobody would work for Battersby after that. Not Tresham builders. It was only a poxy kitchen extension he wanted, and Handy did a good job. It was a fair price, too.”

“So if they knew your name, you’d be out on your ear at once? Well, that is even more important than I thought.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that. But there’s more. Y’know my Haydn was killed in a so-called accident? Well, I think old Battersby had somethin’ to do with it, and I reckoned that if I could go to work there, I could find out more.” There was a pause, and then Dot added, “So I s’pose you’d like to give me m’ cards straight away. Fair enough. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Lois sighed. “Oh, Dot,” she said. “Now what am I to do? I know you’re good at the job, and another client has asked for you specially.”

“Can I ask yer something, Mrs. M?”

“Go on,” Lois replied, wondering how honest she should be herself.

“Why did you hire me? I’m not a fool, and I know I got a disgusting house. I look a sight when I’m not scrubbed up, and the Nimmo reputation goes before me. So why?”

Lois made a decision. “Because I thought I could use you,” she said. “My Derek witnessed the accident, you know. When he told me all the details, I reckoned there was something not quite right. Your son was a young man, and I don’t like young blokes being killed for some trumped-up accident story. I’ve got sons, too. I don’t know what Haydn
was involved in, but whatever it was, it needed the truth told. So when you came in here, applying for a job, I thought I could use you.” She did not mention Cowgill.

“And now it looks like you can?” Dot said hopefully.

“Maybe,” Lois said. “So I’ll give you another chance. What I get to know I’ll share with you. And you can tell me everything you know about them. And you can start by explaining why the Horsleys at Willow Farm should also be interested in who you are. And what do you know about the stable thefts?”