Secrets on Saturday (15 page)

H
AZEL
T
HORNBULL WAS LATE FOR WORK AT THE OF
fice of New Brooms in Tresham. Her small daughter, Elizabeth, had produced a high temperature in the middle of the night, and it was still high when she woke up this morning. Hazel’s mother, Bridie, had said on the telephone that children must come first, and Hazel should take her in to the surgery at once. Hazel needed no persuading, and after she had argued with the doctor’s receptionist who had offered her an appointment in three days’ time, she went in to Tresham, “Just one of those little bugs children pick up,” the doctor had said. “Keep her warm and give her this to keep the temperature down. She’ll be as right as a trivet in a couple of days. Is your mother looking after her? Fine. Nobody better.” And she pressed her button for the next patient.

Hazel took Elizabeth back to Bridie, and was late for work in Sebastopol Street. Her mind was still on little Lizzie as she parked her car fifty yards away from the shop. As she walked towards it, she saw a small crowd of people outside. Oh no, not a queue! She quickened her step, and as she drew up to them, saw the reason why they stood there. Not a queue, but a crowd of shocked observers. The big plate-glass window, always sparkling and clear, was shattered, and glass had spread everywhere. “Oh my God!” gasped Hazel, and pushed her way through to the door.

“We’ve sent for the police, me duck,” said a fatherly man, taking her arm. “You got the key? Right, let’s open up, but we mustn’t touch anything for the moment.”

“When did it happen?” Hazel said. She was not in need of the man’s support, and began to shake with anger. She glared hard at all the bystanders, who, unwilling to be implicated in any way, began to melt away.

“Not sure,” said the fatherly man. “But the man in the video shop over the road said he heard something in the small hours. Lives over the shop, since it changed hands.”

“Right,” Hazel said. “I’d better ring the boss now. Thanks a lot for your help.”

“Sure you’ll be all right, me duck? I’ll stay until the police come, if you like.”

“No, I’ll be fine, thanks.” She dialled Lois’s mobile, and filled her in with the details. “No need for you to come beetling over,” she assured her. “I can handle the police and organize replacing the window. I’ll keep you informed. Have you got a busy day?”

“Yeah, as always,” Lois said. “Just off to the Hall, to check Mrs. T-J is happy. But give me a ring any time if you want help. I expect the cops will want to see me anyway. I’ll leave it to you for the moment.”

She had pulled over on the hill up to Cox’s Farm to answer the call, and now sat motionless for a few minutes, considering who had smashed the window, and why. So they were after her, she decided. A campaign to warn her off. Strange that they should risk alerting the police, but maybe the job was done by a known gang, roving young villains who plagued the lives of people in Tresham. Probably breaking windows was run-of-the-mill for them. Still, enquiries would be made, interviews carried out. It was risky, even though they had covered their tracks.

She set off again towards Cox’s Wood and the farmhouse. As she got out of the car, she at once missed the barking assault of Rosie, the sheepdog. Perhaps William was out with her, checking his land. Unlikely! She opened the collapsing gate and walked in. Nobody
around, and no one answered the door when she knocked. Then she peered through the windows and was startled to see a completely empty house. Not a stick of furniture, no curtains, everything gone.

Lois glanced around quickly, feeling eyes upon her. But there was nobody in sight. A couple of chickens wandered up and looked at her hopefully. Had they been fed? They certainly looked hungry, and Lois thought maybe she should find something to give them. In a small barn across the yard, she found a bin of corn, and threw the anxious birds several handfuls. They ate furiously, and Lois reckoned they had not been fed for some while.

Then she heard a sound in the barn behind her. It was a whining sound, a dog’s whine. She whipped round and went forward nervously. In the far corner, behind sacks piled up, Lois found Rosie, shivering and whining, and clearly unable to stand. Frantically pulling away the sacks, she found the dog lying on straw, wagging a feeble tail. When Rosie struggled to get up, Lois saw her legs buckling under her, and the dog screamed in pain. No! Not a defenceless dog, too! Lois picked her up with difficulty, and got her into the back seat of her car. Next stop, the vet.

As she went round to the driver’s door, a flashy car drew up and the window slid down. “Excuse me, is this Cox’s Farm?” The young man grinned winningly at her.

“Yes, it is,” Lois said. “But there’s nobody here. Except an injured dog, and I’m taking it to the vet before it snuffs it. You’ll not find anyone at home.”

“I know,” said the man, his grin fading as he peered into Lois’s car. “I’m from the estate agents, and have to put up a For Sale board.” Like a parody of a property salesman, he added, “Can I interest you in an historic old farmhouse with great potential for restoration?”

Lois glared at him, and drove off rapidly, sending a shower of grit and gravel over the young man as he got out of his car.

* * *

A
S LUCK WOULD HAVE IT
, L
OIS FOUND
B
ILL ON DUTY
, helping out at the vets. He was now part-qualified so that he was trusted to do preliminary examinations, and Lois was very glad to see him. “I was hoping it would be you,” she said. “Here, can you help me with a dog in the back of the car.”

“Not Jeems!” said Bill, knowing Lois’s feelings for the terrier.

Lois shook her head. “Nope, a sheepdog. I’ll explain in a minute. Let’s get her looked at first.”

As Bill lifted her, Rosie once more yelped in pain. “Never mind, old girl,” he said as he put her on the examination table. “I’m just having a little look.” He took each leg in turn and very gently moved it. His face was dark when he looked up at Lois. “This dog,” he said quietly, “has four broken legs. And she’s emaciated and dehydrated. Almost no pulse. For God’s sake, Mrs. M, what’s been going on?”

Lois explained as clearly as she could, and her voice shook. “Bill,” she said finally, “is it possible somebody could’ve broken an old dog’s legs deliberately?”

“Or she could have been run over. But there’s no crushing or other injuries you would expect.” Bill was silent for a moment. “Would you like to stroke her, Lois? Calm her down? I’m afraid there’s really only one thing to do. I’ll get Mr. Wright to come in and confirm. It’ll be the kindest. We’ll give her some peace.”

Rosie looked up pleadingly at Lois, who held her head gently, stroking her and speaking consolingly. Mr. Wright came in, and quite soon the light went slowly from the dog’s brown eyes and she was still.

“L
OIS
! W
HAT ON EARTH HAS HAPPENED TO YOU
?” Gran was dressed in her best, and about to set out for the village hall, where the annual Flower Show was in full swing.

“It’s not what happened to
me
,” said Lois, slumping down on a chair.

“Who, then? For God’s sake, Lois, not one of the children … or Derek?”

Lois looked up at her, and her eyes were full of tears. “No, just an old dog. Left to die in agony up at Cox’s Farm. Four broken legs and no food or water. Oh Lord, Mum …” And she got up quickly and rushed to the cloakroom, from where Gran could hear the unmistakeable sounds of Lois being sick. When she came back, Gran had the kettle on.

“Sit down there,” she ordered, and continued, “now you just tell me what you were doing at Cox’s Farm. As far as I know, he hasn’t required the services of New Brooms?”

Lois shook her head. “No, he hasn’t. And now he certainly won’t. The house is empty, everything gone, and a man was about to put up a For Sale notice. I heard Rosie whimpering when I was scouting round to see what was happening. There were chickens needing food, and I found some in a barn. And I found Rosie. The vet’s put her to sleep.”

Gran patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry, duckie. You did the right thing. But it really is none of our business, is
it. No doubt the vet will tell the police, if he thinks there’s been cruelty. Well, all this explains why Mrs. T-J phoned to ask where you were. Worried me, I can tell you. Anyway, you’d better give her a ring. You know what she is.”

Lois groaned. “Yep, all right. I’ll do it now. Stand by with the brandy.” She went off to her office, and Gran heard a contrite Lois explaining with an excuse that had nothing to do with an injured dog. “I’d better be off,” she said, coming back into the kitchen. “The old bag is livid. It was only my routine check, but apparently Floss didn’t turn up, either.”

“I know,” said Gran. “She rang after you’d gone, saying she had a migraine and was throwing up. She was sure she’d be fine by tomorrow. I explained that to Mrs. T-J, but I don’t think she was listening.”

“Not my day,” said Lois, taking her car keys off the hook. “See you later.”

“What about food?”

“No thanks. Not hungry at the moment. Bye.”

W
HEN
L
OIS ARRIVED AT THE
H
ALL
,
THE HOUSE
keeper answered the door. “I’m afraid Mrs. T-J has gone to the Flower Show,” she said. “She’s a judge.”

“I bet she is,” muttered Lois. “I had an appointment,” she said, and the woman flushed.

“So sorry,” she replied. “Mrs. T-J mentioned it, and said I was to ask you to wait. I think you were supposed to be here earlier? She was quite cross … In fact,” she added, “she was furious. Not used to being kept waiting, I’m afraid.”

“Nor am I,” Lois said. “I have work to do, and I’ll give her a ring to fix a convenient time for me to come back. It was only a routine check on the cleaner.”

“She didn’t turn up either,” said the housekeeper nervously. “That made it a lot worse.”

“Well, I’m sorry for
you
,” said Lois. “But Floss’s absence was explained. Perhaps you would tell Mrs.
Tollervey-Jones I shall be sending a replacement tomorrow. If that’s not convenient, let me know. Goodbye.”

She drove off at speed, down the tree-lined drive and out into blinding sun at the gates. Just in time, she saw a dark shape crossing the road and stood on the brakes. She leapt out of the car and looked along the grassy bank. It was a badger, and it hardly moved when she approached. From her research, she knew badgers were nocturnal animals, and if seen out in daylight, were likely to be diseased. As she stood wondering what to do, it shambled off, disappearing into the thick grass and undergrowth. Maybe it wasn’t sick. Perhaps it had woken up too early and was confused. Lois turned back to her car. More likely to be sick, maybe with tuberculosis, and a danger to cattle. Quite legal to shoot it, then. She thought of the law, and realized it would be good to talk to Hunter Cowgill. It was treacherous ground she was treading. She needed help, and reached for her mobile.

“Hello? Is that you?”

“Who else?” Cowgill smiled. His Lois. His day brightened instantly.

“Well, listen.” she said. “I need to talk to you, and it would be best face-to-face. There’s quite a lot to say, and I’d like some advice.”

“Well, my dear Lois, I never thought to hear you say that!” He fancied he could hear her draw in her breath ready for a blast, and added quickly, “Of course we can meet. Usual place? Eleven o’clock tomorrow morning soon enough?”

“Yep. Oh, and by the ways how’s everything?”

“Improving,” said Cowgill. “See you tomorrow.”

B
EFORE TURNING INTO HER DRIVE
, L
OIS REMEMBERED
again the For Sale board and the pushy young man. She had been able to think only of poor Rosie, but now she decided to drive on and call in at the estate agents in the next village. It was only five or six miles, and she was
quickly there. The street was deserted, and she pulled up outside the offices. First she looked at every property advertised for sale in the window, and Cox’s Farm was not among them. Probably not this agent, but one in Tresham. It was worth asking, and she went in. New Brooms cleaned these offices, and she was welcomed warmly by the blonde receptionist.

“Morning, Mrs. Meade, how are you?”

They got the small talk out of the way, and Lois said she was pleased Bill was still satisfactory. Then she said casually, “Did I hear Cox’s Farm is for sale?”

The blonde shook her head. “Not with us, Mrs. Meade. I must say it’s a surprise to me. Isn’t that where old William Cox lives? Has he gone into a home, or, well, passed on …?”

“I have no idea,” said Lois. “It was just that I heard through the grapevine. Well, I must be on my way. I’m glad everything is going well. Bye.”

The afternoon was nearly gone, and Lois felt she had achieved nothing. Might as well go home and do some paperwork, she decided. Then she remembered Floss being ill, and thought she would call in and commiserate. The quickest way back home was through narrow roads and past Cox’s Wood, but she felt a stab of nausea again at the thought. By the time she reached Long Farnden, Mr. Pickering’s car was in his drive, and she hesitated. He was bound to want to know if she’d discovered anything more. No, she’d give them a ring and enquire after Floss. She accelerated and drove past.