A Friend of the Family (28 page)

Cass pulled herself together and, in the face of Abby's panic, felt a slight sense of superiority. ‘Well, hardly.' She gave a little laugh and attempted a joke. ‘I know my reputation is pretty widespread but even so I hardly feel that he'd make straight for me.'

‘I think she's talking about William, Ma,' said Oliver, grinning at Abby's puzzled expression. ‘Not the escaped prisoner.'

‘For God's sake, Oliver, go and find me a drink,' begged Abby.
‘I've never run so fast in all my life and I had William's gun with me, too.'

A look of respect crept into Cass's eyes. ‘A gun?' she said. ‘Gosh, Abby! Makes my poker look pretty silly. Do you know how to use it?'

‘Haven't a clue!' Abby broke into hysterical laughter. ‘Which is just as well. I'd have probably shot anyone if I'd come upon them unexpectedly.'

‘But where is it now?' Cass looked at Abby's empty hands.

‘On the doorstep.' Abby opened the front door again and picked up the shotgun. ‘It seemed a bit, well, unfriendly standing on your step and brandishing a shotgun. Apart from which, if you're as nervous as I am, you might have batted me one with your poker.'

They went up the passage together and into the sitting room where Oliver greeted them with large gin and tonics.

‘Wonderful!' Abby leaned the gun against the sofa, seized the glass and took a great gulp. ‘I imagine that neither of you have seen William. Where's Tom?'

‘Well, that's the point.' Cass sat down with her drink and motioned Abby to sit beside her. ‘Michael took Harriet into hospital last night to have the baby and Polly went over to look after Hugh and she's stuck up there all on her own with the prisoner loose. Tom and Saul have gone off to try to find a telephone so they can warn the police.'

‘My God!' Abby's eyes had been growing larger and larger throughout this recital and she seemed to shrink back into the corner of the sofa. ‘Poor, poor Polly,' she whispered. ‘What a nightmare.' She began to search her pockets for her cigarettes. ‘She must be out of her mind with terror.'

‘It's possible that she doesn't know,' said Oliver, perching on a stool by the fire. ‘It depends if she's been watching the television. She's probably been too busy with Hugh.'

‘Let's hope, for her sake, that she doesn't know.' Abby inhaled deeply on her cigarette. ‘Otherwise she'll probably be dead from fright by the time they get to her. And where the hell is William?'

‘Where was he heading for?' asked Oliver.

‘He went out in the Land Rover to check on one or two of the oldies. Mrs Hampton and a few others. Just to make sure they could cope. He said he wouldn't be long and that was two hours ago.'

‘I'm sure he's fine,' said Cass. ‘You know William. Someone'll keep him talking and he'll have forgotten the time. He'll probably panic when he gets back and finds you're gone. He'll think that the prisoner's popped in and kidnapped you.'

‘Too bad,' said Abby firmly. ‘There's no way I'm going back there alone. And suppose he's not there and doesn't come back for ages? I'm not staying up there on my own in the dark.'

‘No.' Cass shuddered involuntarily at the thought. ‘You must stay here with us. You didn't think to leave William a note?'

Abby shook her head and took another gulp. ‘I just grabbed his gun and legged it,' she said.

‘Oh well.' Cass glanced out of the window. ‘It won't be dark for a few hours yet. William will probably guess where you are. We won't panic. Let's have another drink.'

 

Twenty-nine

 

BY THE TIME THAT
Saul had left the village behind and set his face towards Yelverton, his mind was made up. He would forget the whole business of finding a telephone and make straight for Polly, all on her own at Lower Barton.

After all, he reasoned with himself on the long trudge up the back road to Yelverton, the police might not be able to do anything. They'll probably go out and check that she's OK but they're hardly likely to leave anyone on guard. The prisoner could turn up at any moment. I can stay with her until he's caught or until Michael can get back.

He was lucky that some farm vehicle had done the trip earlier and he plodded along in a tyre track, his eyes fixed on the lane ahead, his mind full of his plans, trying to picture his arrival at Lower Barton. After a while, it seemed that his world had dwindled to this endless white lane, merging with an endless white sky. At least it had stopped snowing. Secretly he was delighted that Tom had twisted his ankle. He felt free, purposeful and excited. It was always better in times of crisis to be up and doing.

Half an hour later, he was passing through the outskirts of Yelverton and heading for the main road, his conscience eased by a shouted conversation to a local, who was clearing his drive, which elicited the information that Yelverton had no power and that the telephones were off, too.

At the roundabout, Saul looked around him. Very little was moving. One or two locals were about, some of the shops looked open
and there was a group of children embattled in a snowball fight. There were several abandoned vehicles dotted about and one or two creeping gently along the road. It was obvious that the ploughs had been through and Saul's spirits rose. With luck he might get a lift into Tavistock. He crossed the road and, sticking out his thumb to any passing car, set off again. He was well beyond the turning to Horra-bridge before anyone took the chance of stopping but, just when he had decided that people might be afraid to pick up a hitchhiker with a prisoner on the loose, a van slowed beside him and the passenger window was wound down.

‘Where're you goin', mate?'

Saul leaned down and peered in. The driver was a young man, wearing overalls, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The back of the van was full of tools and equipment.

‘Tavistock.'

‘Yer in luck. ‘Op in.'

Removing his rucksack, Saul opened the door and slid in gratefully. ‘Thanks,' he said. ‘Where are you going?'

‘Up to Mount ‘Ouse School. They've gotta burst pipe. Where d'you want ter be dropped orf?'

‘To tell you the truth,' said Saul, his excitement growing, ‘Mount House will be perfect. I want to get up on to the moor by Cox Tor, just behind it.'

‘You wanna wotchit, mate,' said the van driver, with a grimace. ‘That escaped prisoner's prob'ly roamin' around up there.'

‘I know. The problem is, a friend of mine, a young woman, is stuck up there in a cottage all on her own.'

The young man let out a low whistle.

‘Quite!' said Saul. ‘I want to get up there as quickly as I can. I'm really grateful that you stopped.'

‘Sorry I can't go no quicker, mate. But we'll get there. You're on yer own arter that.'

‘Don't worry,' said Saul, as they drove through the town and out on to the Princetown road, ‘I'll manage.'

‘This road's not so good,' said the driver. ‘You won't find much movin' up here.'

‘I shan't use the road,' explained Saul as they turned through the gates. ‘I know a short cut up the back.'

As the van chugged up the drive, he stared out at the snow-covered playing fields. Small boys ran to and fro, throwing snowballs, building snowmen and generally enjoying themselves.

At the top of the drive, as the van swung to the right, Saul gazed up at the great house where he had passed five years of his life. Today, it seemed like several lifetimes ago. Boys thronged, cheering, round the slowly moving van and there was a soft thud as a snowball hit the back door.

‘Glad someone's enjoyin' it,' observed the van driver as he pulled into the car park. ‘This do you?'

‘Perfect,' said Saul, who did not want to be seen by anyone who just might recognise him. ‘I'm really grateful.'

‘ 'Ope yer girlfriend's OK,' said the young man. ‘Take care.'

‘I will.' Saul got out and shouldered his rucksack. ‘Thanks a lot.'

He hastened away down the back drive before some of the older boys could question him and let himself out through the gate. Unfortunately, here he had no tractor tracks to walk in and he knew it would be hard going from now on. Stopping to have a pee and to refresh himself with a sandwich washed down with coffee, he straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath and set off towards the moor.

 

CHRIS WAS EXTREMELY SURPRISED
to see Michael standing on the doorstep. ‘Good heavens!' he said. ‘Michael! Whatever are you doing here? Oh Lord, it's not Harriet or . . . '

‘No, nothing like that.' Michael was kicking off his boots while fending off the friendly attention of two large golden retrievers who had accompanied Chris to the front door. ‘Harriet and the baby are fine. Is your phone still on, Chris?'

Chris stepped back to let Michael into the hall. The dogs followed
him. ‘ 'Fraid not,' he said, closing the front door. ‘It went off just after you phoned this morning to tell us about the baby. What's the problem?'

‘What I didn't tell you this morning was that Polly came over last night to look after Hugh while I took Harriet into Plymouth. And now she's all on her own up there with this wretched prisoner on the loose.'

‘Ah.' Chris led the wav into the large warm untidy kitchen and the dogs went back to their positions by the Rayburn. ‘Yes, I see. I suppose, if I thought about it at all, I'd have assumed that you'd taken Hugh with you.'

‘I wish to hell we had!' said Michael feelingly, ‘Harriet knows nothing about the prisoner yet and I'm praying that nobody tells her. She'll go spare. I was hoping to get home and sort things out but I'm stuck now. Some bloody fool woman driver pushed me off the road by Anderton Farm.'

The kitchen door opened and Kate came in. She wore her usual old guernsey and a tweed skirt that had seen better days. ‘Who was that, Chris?' she asked. ‘Good grief! Michael! Whatever are you doing here. It's not Harriet . . . ?'

With a sense of déjà vu, Michael reassured her and explained.

‘Oh, Michael. How awful,' said Kate. She looked worried. ‘And he sounds such a horrid man, too. And his car was found at Merrivale. Oh, dear, this is very bad.' She looked grave. ‘What shall we do?'

‘To tell you the truth,' said Michael, looking uneasily at their anxious faces, ‘I don't know much about him. I've only heard about it second-hand. What's the exact story?'

By the time they had finished explaining, Michael was looking as worried as they did. ‘Yes, I see,' he said. ‘This makes things much worse. Oh, hell! If I'd had any sense I'd have phoned the police in Plymouth and they could have got someone straight out.'

‘If they can get out,' said Kate. ‘The roads will be impassable up there, surely?'

‘Well, I'm going to have to try,' said Michael firmly. ‘Even if I have
to walk, I must get there somehow. If Polly's seen the television, she'll be terrified.'

‘What about Phil's Range Rover?' Chris looked at Kate. ‘He's always telling us how bloody wonderful it is. That might get us up there. What do you think?'

‘Worth a try,' said Kate.

‘But would this Phil just lend it to you?' asked Michael. ‘Perhaps he'll want to come.'

Kate shook her head. ‘He's just getting over flu,' she said. ‘Tell him,' she shouted after the departing Chris, ‘that if he'll let us borrow it he can have a free puppy from the next litter!'

She smiled as the front door slammed behind Chris. ‘That'll get him!' she said. ‘Now, I'm going to make you a hot drink while we wait for Chris. Did you get any lunch?'

‘No. But I'm not hungry. Some coffee would be wonderful. Oh, God, Kate. What a thing to happen!'

‘It's bloody,' agreed Kate, pushing the kettle on to the Rayburn's hotplate, ‘but don't panic yet. Polly may not have even seen the television. We were cut off quite early and she would probably have had her hands full with Hugh, and even if the prisoner turns up, which is most unlikely, she's got Max and Ozzy.'

‘Mmm.' Michael didn't sound convinced. ‘I'm not sure how good they might be in that situation.'

‘Oh, well. You know how I feel about that. I've been telling you for years that you should get yourself decent dogs instead of overweight asthmatic hearthrugs. I'll book you one from my next litter.'

This was an old, much-enjoyed argument and Michael smiled. ‘First this Phil, now me. If you go on giving puppies away at this rate, you won't make anything at all out of your next litter.'

‘Who said anything about giving?' countered Kate. ‘I wish you'd eat something.'

‘I really couldn't but I wouldn't mind a pee.'

‘Well, you know where it is.'

Kate made the coffee, her face thoughtful. As she poured in the milk
she thought she heard the sound of an engine. She hurried up the hall and opened the door. Sure enough, there at the gate was Chris with the Range Rover. He grinned triumphantly as he climbed out. Only too willing to help,' he called to her. ‘Didn't even have to bribe him with a puppy. He was just cross that he wasn't well enough to come with us. Margaret put her foot down. Just as well, he looks terrible.'

‘Brilliant!' Michael spoke over Kate's shoulder. ‘That's brilliant, Chris. Bless you. Do I gather from your conversation that you're going to come with me?'

‘Of course he's coming!'

‘Try to stop me!' said Chris. ‘Just let me get some sensible gear on.'

‘You can drink your coffee while he's doing it,' said Kate, steering Michael firmly back into the kitchen.

‘Look, Kate. I'll have to get back to the hospital tonight. If anyone's told Harriet about this man she'll be having fits and it's not even as though I can phone her to tell her we're all safe. Can I bring Polly and Hugh back to you?'

Of course you can! You don't have to ask!'

‘Ready?' Chris appeared dressed in all-weather gear. ‘Let's get on while we've got the light with us.'

The dogs got up, tails wagging, hoping for a walk, but Kate shut them firmly in the kitchen and followed the two men out.

‘Be careful,' she said, as Michael put on his boots.

‘I know you'll be quite safe with the dogs,' Chris said to her, ‘but when we've gone, go in and lock the doors and don't let the dogs go out again. We'll be as quick as we can.'

 

FROM THE WINDOW OF
her workroom Thea stared out to the moor. The sky was lightening from the west and the snow gleamed gold on the shoulders of the hills. She could not keep bothering George with her fears for Polly. He had been very patient and understanding but she could sense that both these emotions would begin to wear thin if she kept talking about it. So she had come away on the pretext of getting on with some work but in reality she was thinking
about Polly and wondering how she was coping. Thea suspected that she would, by now, be totally cut off and could imagine how frightening it must be for her. She was also weighed down by a sense of foreboding that was better dealt with alone.

She saw George below her on the platform. He had Amelia, well wrapped up, in his arms and was walking up and down with her. She could see Amelia's fists waving and her cries of excitement floated up, mingling with George's deeper rumble. Jessie ran ahead, sniffing at the snow and making forays into the deeper drifts. Thea's own happiness and security seemed selfish in the face of what Polly might be going through and she told herself for the hundredth time that Michael was almost certainly with her. So why this feeling of unease—even dread? The depth of her affection for Polly quite surprised her. They had become so close, such good friends, and she simply couldn't bear the idea of her frightened and alone.

After a while she realised that her anxious worryings were fruitless and resorted to the comfort she always sought in times of stress or fear. She took some deep breaths and calmed her mind. The Ninety-first Psalm was the one her father had always recommended for times such as this. She couldn't remember it all but some of the verses slipped quietly into her thoughts
. . . I will say unto the Lord, Thou art my hope . . . in Him will I trust. For He shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter . . . He shall defend thee under His wings . . . thou shalt not he afraid for any terror hy night . . . it shall not come nigh thee . . . He shall give his angels charge over thee . . . they shall hear thee in their hands . . .