Secrets on Saturday (19 page)

Today, Floss decided to be brave and have a good look at them. She usually gave them a quick glance and moved on. They were too high to reach, even with a cobweb brush. And so far, thank goodness, Mrs. T-J had not suggested a step-ladder. The first was a small, insignificant creature. Floss supposed it was one of those small deer she saw occasionally crossing the park. The next was more impressive, and there were several of these. Stags, still with a tinge of red in their coats, and great branching antlers that looked too heavy for the animals to carry on their heads. Floss imagined them standing proudly on the horizon, outlined against the sky and monarchs of all they surveyed on the moors of Scotland. She shook her head sadly, and looked at the last of the line. It was a different animal, its jaws fixed in a permanent snarl, showing vicious pointed teeth. Faint stripes remained on its bristly coat. A badger, she supposed. It certainly looked like something you wouldn’t want to meet in the dark. She had seen a small one on the road this morning, on her way to work. Must have been knocked by a heavy vehicle into the side of the road. Heavy enough to kill it dead, poor thing. Suppose it was a mother and had cubs waiting for her to come home? She moved on to the display cabinet, and saw the elaborate ormolu clock on top. She realized time was passing, and climbed the curving staircase to the next floor.

* * *

I
N THE HALF
-
LIGHT OF HIS BEDROOM THE OLD MAN
sat up in bed, thinking. This was a strange place, and he couldn’t remember how he got here. Not a hotel, that was for sure. And not any kind of nursing home, either. The room was like a cell, and the good food was a bit of a puzzle. And who was the nice young man who brought him his pill and cup of tea early in the morning, and was gone again almost straight away, saying he’d soon be back with breakfast? As Herbert put the pill on his tongue, he raised the tea to his mouth, and then stopped, spitting it out into his hand. What on earth was the pill
for
? He had obediently taken it every morning, and felt much too muzzy to ask questions. But now he considered. No doctor had seen him for a couple of years, and he was always given a clean bill of health. This morning the young man had been later than usual, and Herbert supposed yesterday’s pill had more or less worn off. He looked again at the little white tablet in his hand. Well, we’ll see which bit of me falls to pieces if I don’t take it, he said, and slid it into his trouser pocket.

Time for a message to whoever is in the next room and knows the Morse code, he thought next, and realized his head was clearing. I suppose it’s a bit of fun for whoever it is, perhaps just a passing travelling salesman on his way to Tresham and staying in this cheap billet for a couple of nights. Probably hopes I’m female, young and plump with long blonde hair, Herbert thought, and smiled. It was the first smile he could remember since … since when? The past was shut off from him. Then he had a sudden flash of memory. His dog! Where was his dog? Were they being kind to him? Was he having his three dog biscuits every afternoon after his walk, each biscuit a different colour?

Maybe I’ve had a stroke, he thought next. Affected my brain. Perhaps I was in hospital and now they’ve moved me on to this weird place to convalesce. But
why
am I locked in? And why do I have to pee in a bucket?

He began to tap sharply on the wall, and listened hopefully for a reply.

William Cox was asleep. Very sound asleep, as the result of one of the ubiquitous white pills. He did not hear the tapping, but dreamed on. Nightmares again, and then, half-waking, he realized he was soaking with fear-induced sweat. As he succumbed again to the heavy drowsiness, he muttered, “I’ll get that bugger.” But nobody heard.

T
HERE WAS NO MESSAGE FROM
B
EN WHEN
L
OIS RE
turned to her office. Well, if he couldn’t be bothered to return her call, he was unlikely to be of much use. Perhaps she would call in at Blackberry Gardens when she and Josie got back from seeing old Ellen.

Gran had returned limp and exhausted yesterday from her visit to Miss Ivy Beasley. She had met her match, and admitted it. “She never stopped, Lois! On and on and on, all about her father, who was such an important man, and her mother, who—and this crowned it all—after she died still spoke to Ivy and kept her company. Honest! I’m not making this up. Oh, and by the way, she asked me to make sure Bill was staying with New Brooms, even if he is to be a father.”

“So when are you asking her back to tea?” Lois had enquired.

“Never! Not unless you stay to help me out. Honestly … well, you know me, Lois, I’m not usually backward in coming forward, but I only spoke about two sentences the whole time. The one good thing was the lemon sponge, and that was made by Doris Ashbourne.”

Now Lois was on her way to make conversation with another feisty old lady, except that last time Ellen had been far from feisty. Monosyllabic would be a better word. Josie was waiting on the steps of the shop, and greeted Lois cheerily. “Hi, Mum. It’s a real treat to have an afternoon off. Let’s go.”

“I wish it was something more exciting,” Lois apologized.

“Oh no, this’ll be fun. I’ve always liked old ladies. In
spite of Gran …” They both laughed, and chatted amiably until they reached Round Ringford and drew up outside The Lodge, a typical little house built in the period of Victorian Gothic decoration, with its carved wooden barge boards, twisted chimney and ecclesiastical windows. Even the window in the door was a pointed arch, with stained-glass lilies obscuring the light.

Lois knocked loudly as usual, knowing that Ellen was more than a little deaf. No reply. Lois knocked again, and peered past the lilies and into the dark hallway. No sign of Ellen, and no sound of movement. “Surely she can’t have forgotten,” Lois said. “This is my regular day. Has been for ages …”

“Perhaps her memory’s going. She’s probably asleep in her chair somewhere.”

They walked round the house, looking in all the windows, but could see no sign of Ellen. “There’s dirty dishes on the draining board,” Lois said. “That’s not like Ellen. If she was being taken out to the shops, she’d never leave the dishes like that.”

“Oh, Mum, you’re too suspicious. I bet she’s gone round to see Ivy or Doris. Forgotten all about you coming. Let’s leave it, and go into Tresham. I could do with some new shoes.”

Lois followed reluctantly down the garden path, and out into the road. As they were getting in the car, a voice hailed them. “Is that you, Mrs. Meade?” Doris Ashbourne, neat and tidy, was walking swiftly towards them. “I’m afraid Ellen’s not there,” she said. “She had a couple of funny turns and they’ve taken her in for a few days.”

“In where?” Lois said.

“Tresham General. She was in there once before. It’s a bit of a mystery why she collapsed this time. Right as rain when I saw her the night before. I took her down a steak pie I’d baked, and she was her old self. Critical and grateful at the same time! I sometimes think what with Ivy and Ellen, I ain’t got time to look after myself, but keeping busy keeps you young, they say, don’t they?”
She smiled at Josie. “Shop going well, dear?” she added, and said she’d be seeing Ellen tomorrow and would give her good wishes from Lois.

On their way back to Farnden, Lois said, “Josie, would you mind if we didn’t go to Tresham? I do need to talk to young Cullen, and now I’ve got some time it would be a good opportunity.” She looked anxiously at Josie to see if she was disappointed, but was relieved to hear her say that she’d been meaning for a long time to pop over to Waltonby to see an old friend, so not to worry.

“I’ll get out here,” she said, as Lois turned into Blackberry Gardens, “and walk home.”

Ben opened the door, and said, “Hi, come on in. I tried to ring you, but got the answer phone. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Lois refused, as always, and wasted no time in getting down to the subject of Ben as a cleaner. “I must tell you frankly, Ben, I don’t see you in the job,” she began.

His face fell. “But I can wear a frilly apron with the rest,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Lois. “That’s my point. If you think you’re doin’ it for a laugh, that’s no good to me. I know Floss is very fond of you, but my team think of cleaning as a profession. It’s skilled and reasonably well paid. With your degree an’ that, you’ll be looking for something different. I’m not saying better, but different. So I’ll be going now, and wish you luck in the job hunt.”

“Hey, hang on, Mrs. Meade, can’t we talk about it a bit? It was a silly joke about the frilly apron. I really would like to be a New Brooms cleaner.” Liar, he said to himself. But he’d promised Floss he would take it seriously and the money would certainly be handy just now. “I know your Bill Stockbridge,” he said, “and everybody respects him, thinks he’s a good bloke. No, it’d be really great, Floss says. Every day different, meeting new people, and taking pride in the work.”

“Yes, well, that’s Floss speaking, not you.” Lois thought for a moment, and then said, “I tell you what I’ll
do, Ben. You can have a couple of weeks’ trial, and if it turns out well, I’ll think some more. Come along to the meeting on Monday, twelve sharp at my house, and you can meet the rest. Now I must go. Oh, and don’t forget, if you want to tell me more about that night in the woods, I’m a good listener.”

After she’d gone, Ben looked at himself in the hall mirror. “Hi there, skivvy,” he said. “Here’s the scrubbing brush. Now get on with it.”

L
OIS MADE HERSELF A QUICK CUP OF TEA AND LOOKED
out of the window. It was still a lovely day, and she was aware of Jeems’s pleading face looking up at her. “You win,” Lois said, locked the house and set off with a delighted dog trotting by her side.

“Which way shall we go?” Walks were easier now. The training classes in Tresham were paying off. And just as well, thought Lois, considering how much they cost her! Down by the edge of the woods and out to the footpath beyond would be best, she decided. Jeems could have a run and chase rabbits. Derek had said the For Sale notice was still up at Cox’s Farm, so she could check that. It wouldn’t be a very quick sale, she reckoned. So much work to do there.

The woods were quiet, except for the usual sounds of creatures and birds. No distant voices, no howls of pain or gunshot reverberating through the trees. No clues as to who had kept Ben and Floss company that night. Lois was away from the familiar section of the woodland path, but it was still quite clearly visible through the trees, and she walked on, disappointed and at the same time relieved that nothing sinister seemed to be happening. The farmhouse, too, was silent and empty. Doors all locked, and outbuildings exactly the same as when she had last seen them.

Now she was into the field, and a cool breeze lifted her hair. In her pocket she found an elastic band to anchor it into a ponytail. Getting a bit old for a ponytail! Lois
walked smartly, with Jeems trotting behind her, departing from the path every now and then to chase a rabbit. So far, she had never caught one, and Lois hoped it stayed that way. They were soon on the road that led back into the village, and passed by the entrance to Blackberry Gardens. On an impulse she decided to go in and see if Jeems would like a barking confrontation with the Wallis killer terriers behind the gate. If Frances Wallis came out, she could easily say she was going to check the Everitt house. It was a silly idea, she knew, but Derek always made the detour with an old retriever he walked for a neighbour. Trained it to be a good guard dog, he said.

She would pass the Cullens again, but knew nobody was at home. Ben had been going out as soon as she left, to see a mate in Tresham for the rest of the day, and his parents would not yet be back from work. As she approached their wrought iron gates, standard for the estate, she stopped dead. Something was hanging there. A brace of … a brace of what? Lois moved closer, and Jeems began to bark fiercely. Oh my God! It was not a brace of pheasant, but two large black crows, heads askew, anchored by their necks with a length of orange binder-twine, and bleeding dark red drops on to the pale gravelled drive. An ancient warning.

A
S SOON AS SHE GOT HOME
, L
OIS WENT INTO HER
office to make a call to Cowgill. Surely he would think there was enough evidence now to take some action? The pattern was quite clear. Anyone wandering in certain parts of the woods got a warning. Floss had had
the hanging cat, Ben the crows, and William Cox the mutilated badger. She had been given the “stop at nothing” warning. Now both Cox and Herbert Everitt—Herbert had been known to walk in the woods with his dog—had disappeared. What had they in store for her? But then, she had only visited William Cox in a professional capacity, and her walks in the woods had been confined to daytime. She had never actually seen anything sinister herself. Then she remembered Rosie, and her broken legs. But that had been aimed at Cox, not at herself. They—whoever “they” were—could not have anticipated that she would find the animal. But they might know she had tried to rescue her.