Secrets on Saturday (12 page)

Derek held his breath, waiting for Lois to explode. But she frowned and seemed not hear. “Right. I’ll ring him after tea. I’ve just got one or two things to do in the office now.”

After she’d left the kitchen, Derek looked at Gran and whistled. “Wow,” he said, “that was dangerous ground you were on. She don’t usually take remarks like that so calmly!”

Gran shook her head. “No. It’s a bad sign, isn’t it, Derek. She’s still up to something. And what’s Floss’s dad got to do with it?”

“All will no doubt be revealed,” shrugged Derek. “All in good time, when our Lois is ready, or needs some urgent help. Not too urgent, I hope,” he added, and stumped off out to the garden.

“H
ELLO
? I
S
M
R
. P
ICKERING THERE
,
PLEASE
? I’
M
returning his call.” Lois rubbed her eyes. She was tired and worried. Derek was seldom angry with her, and, this, more than any warning from Cowgill or Ellen Biggs, had made her realize that the whole business of Herbert Everitt’s disappearance and the badgers in Cox’s Wood could turn very nasty indeed.

“Thank you for ringing back,” Philip Pickering said. “It’s just that I’ve had a friendly conversation with Floss—” I bet it was friendly, thought Lois—“and she said one or two things about herself and her friend Ben. I admit I was not pleased to know that the two of them had been up in those woods in the dark, but, as my wife says, young people will be young people.”

“Yep, I’m sure,” said Lois, sighing. “But what did Floss say?”

“She said they were spotted by someone coming along from deeper in the wood. A man. He tripped over a bramble, she said, and then he saw them and turned round and ran back into the wood. They followed him, but he vanished. So they came home. I think she was still frightened, and that’s why she told me, but I said perhaps that would teach her not to?”

“That’s really your business,” said Lois quickly. “But did they get a look at him? Notice anything about him?”

“Only that Ben said he thought he had seen him before, in Blackberry Gardens. And they both reckoned he must have known the woods well, as he disappeared
completely into the middle of a thicket. But it was very dark in amongst those trees. Frankly, Mrs. Meade, I can scarcely bear to think about it!” His voice had risen now, and Lois attempted to calm him down.

“Well, no harm done,” she said. “I’m glad she told you all this. It will be very useful. Leave it to me, Mr. Pickering, and don’t be too hard on Floss. Daughters will be daughters, you know. Bye.”

Lois sat quietly at her desk, digesting this new information. So Ben thought he had seen the man in Blackberry Gardens before. It was certainly not the missing Herbert, nor William Cox, as the man had been athletic and presumably young or youngish. Probably not Mrs. Wimp Wallis’s husband, either, as he was a big bull of a man, according to Jean Slater, and would have been immediately familiar to Ben. That left the one who repeatedly turned up and then disappeared again, and who should not have had any business being anywhere near Long Farnden. Reg Abthorpe.

But could he have killed and strung up a pet cat? He had been such a mild man when she first met him. Then she remembered his chilly smile, and his strange behaviour in Frances Wallis’s house. She doubted whether he would have done the deed himself. Probably had friends—or associates—who would think nothing of bashing an old cat. After all, a much bigger animal had been done to death and tied to old Cox’s gatepost.

A whimpering outside the office door demanded Lois’s attention. She opened up and admitted a shivering Jeems. Lois hadn’t noticed the rumbling thunder but now lightning was flashing across the village and heavy drops of rain tapped against her window. She picked up the little dog and spoke soothing words. She knew dogs disliked thunderstorms and fireworks, and Jemima was no exception. But as Lois hugged the warm puppy, she re-fleeted that if she were as small and defenceless as Jeems, she too would be terrified.

And then, as the rumbles became fainter, a thought struck her with force. Suppose those men in the woods
whose voices she’d heard had found out that she was interested in them? And to frighten her off, decided to kidnap Jeems! Or … She could not bear to think of a small white body tied to the … Oh, no, no! She would have to keep her with her wherever she went. It would be so easy for anyone to nip into the garden, pick up the puppy and scarper to a waiting car.

For the first time since years ago, when her son James had been in danger, partly because of her ferretin’, she wished she had said no to Cowgill. After all, Herbert Everitt was nothing to her. Let the police get on with it. Maybe if she told Cowgill she was pulling out, he would galvanize his boys into getting a result.

Then she thought of Enid Abraham, her loyal, brave cleaner. She was genuinely upset at Herbert’s disappearance, and would expect Lois to do everything she could to find him. Lois squeezed Jeems, and showed her the sun coming out over the village. “No, sorry, Jeems, I can’t give up now,” she said. “But we’ll all have to be very careful, and not let you out of our sight.”

T
HE
P
ICKERING HOUSEHOLD WAS VERY QUIET
. As Lois had guessed, the father and daughter conversation had been far from friendly. Father shouted and blustered, and Floss ended up weeping bitterly. She regretted having told him anything, but was secretly still alarmed at what had happened. She had hoped for fatherly reassurance. Ben had been very comforting, but ever since that evening, Floss had looked anxiously at every man she met to see if he was the one who had stared at them.

Philip Pickering had been almost driven to telling her about her cat, but fortunately had managed to control himself. It would have made things worse between them. Floss would have castigated him for keeping it from her, and it was too late now.

“Lunch is ready!” called Mrs. Pickering, and her husband made his way slowly to the kitchen.

* * *

I
N
B
LACKBERRY
G
ARDENS
, B
EN SAT WITH HIS ELBOWS
on the table, watching his mother decorating a fruit tart she was making for the WI Bring and Buy sale. “Why don’t
we
get fancy edges and pastry flowers all over the top?” he said. “A few crisped up cornflakes is the family’s lot.”

“And very nice too,” said his father, coming in from the garden. “What would be the good of your mother spending hours decorating a tart for us, when it’d all be gone in a few mouthfuls?”

Ben did not answer, but grinned at his mother and disappeared to his room overlooking the road. He wished they lived in the High Street, where there was some action most of the day to demand his attention. He was applying for jobs, but many of them did not even have the courtesy to reply to his application, and others wrote but regretted he was not what they were looking for. It was depressing, and he was beginning to wish he’d apprenticed himself to a plumber instead of wrestling with IT. Computer studies graduates were ten a penny these days, and after the bubble burst there were not enough jobs around.

If they had a house in the High Street, there’d be kids coming out of school, young mums taking toddlers to the playgroup, people going to work, most in cars but some on bikes, and, always good for a few words, Josie from the shop delivering the post. In this cul-de-sac development, where, as far as he knew, no blackberries had ever been seen, it was dead. First thing in the morning, perhaps, there was a trace of life, when commuters set off with a roar of engines. After that, nothing. Once a week a neighbouring housewife would go off in the car to the supermarket, and two or three others to keep fit at Tresham Leisure Centre.

Here was one of them coming back, no doubt. Ben went closer to the window and watched the car move slowly, until it stopped outside Herbert Everitt’s house. Who was that then? He stiffened as a man got out, opened his boot, and struggled up Mr. Everitt’s garden
path with a huge parcel. Ben knew who it was! Last seen leaping into a bramble patch in Cox’s Wood. He stepped back behind the curtain, and watched. The parcel was causing the man some trouble, and he finally put it down whilst he fumbled for a key. Then he opened the door, lifted up the parcel, and, staggering under its weight, vanished into the house. The door shut behind him.

Ben shivered. What the hell was going on? He knew that Floss’s boss, Mrs. Meade, came once a week to dust around in there, because all Mum’s friends said they couldn’t think what she found to do for a couple of hours. Money for old rope, they said. But nobody else came. None of Herbert’s friends or relations. Mind you, he always said he had no family, so that figured. Then who was this man? And what was in that package? It looked like an orange crate well-wrapped, or it could be a miniature coffin for old Herbert’s dog. What had happened to that yapping menace, anyway? Ben’s thoughts were buzzing, and he needed to talk to someone. No good worrying Floss, and his parents would just laugh and tell him to think about something useful, like bringing some money into the house. There was always Josie at the shop. Ben counted the change in his pocket. Just enough for the local paper. There was an extra sports section today, and a friend of Ben’s was in the news for making it to the Tresham Tigers. With luck, he’d have the shop to himself and could bring up the subject of Mr. Everitt naturally.

“Morning, Ben.” Josie was about to tidy the stockroom, but turned with a smile. Ben was a nice lad, always so polite and pleasant, and she didn’t mind when she saw his only purchase was to be the local paper. Always a chance he might be tempted by something else.

“Hello, Josie,” he said. “What’s in this rag today? I expect you’ve given it the once-over to make sure it’s suitable for tender customers like me.”

“Come off it!” Josie took his money, and leaned on the counter. “Today, I’m afraid, no murders, no robbery with violence, no spectacular car crashes. Very boring today.”

“Not even a mysterious disappearance?” Ben watched her closely.

She shook her head. “Not even news of our old friend Herbert Everitt,” she said obligingly. “I miss him and his little dog, y’ know. We always had an interesting chat. Still, I don’t suppose he’ll be back again now. Probably institutionalized in an old people’s detention centre.”

Ben laughed. “I don’t think they’re that bad these days. But he did seem so chipper just before he was taken off. I saw someone at his house this morning, and wondered if he was ready to return. Could’ve been a social worker, preparing for him to come home?”

Josie shook her head. “You mean that man with the crappy old car? No, he’s a distant relation, I think. Keeping an eye on the place. Mum goes in, dusting and getting rid of spiders and mice. She doesn’t like it much, says it’s creepy.” Josie could see that Ben had more to say, and knew that her mother would want to know what it was.

“This man was carrying an enormous great package—I thought maybe it would be a portable loo or something like that. An aid to independent living, as the catalogues say.”

Josie shrugged. “Might be. I hope he is coming back. We could all give him a hand. Keep an eye on him. Meals-on-wheels, that kind of thing. Now, I’ve got work to do, so if that’s all?”

I
N
M
R
. E
VERITT
’
S CLEAN BUT CHILLY HOUSE
, R
EG
Abthorpe put down his burden and felt in his pocket. A small key unlocked the large chest freezer in front of him, and he shivered as the blast of cold air hit him. He moved aside some frosted packages, and with some difficulty pushed the latest into the space. The lid would not shut, and he swore. He wanted to be out of here as soon as possible. More shoving and pushing finally enabled him to close the freezer and lock it firmly.

As he scurried down the path, his collar turned up, he
glanced over to the Wallis house. No signs of movement, thank goodness. He could see the terriers looking expectantly at him through the window, and ducked into his car. It started at the third attempt, and he drove off quickly. As he turned into the High Street, he saw a tall youth walking towards him. Ah, yes, young Romeo, but without his Juliet. Reg was reminded that he had unfinished business to attend to there, and looked the other way as he passed.