Warning at One

by Ann Purser

  Gran looked smug. "I've been able to help quite a bit," she said. "Directing operations, an' that."

  "I bet you have," Lois said under her breath, and added, "Hello, Mrs. Pickering. Bearing up well?"

  "Mrs. Weedon's been a great help," she said, crossing her fingers behind her back. "And now look at this lovely spread. There's enough here for an army!"

  "Enough for the chaps, too," Gran said and disappeared to invite them to lunch. Three grinning men returned with her and accepted steaming soup gratefully. Mrs. Pickering exchanged glances with Lois and shrugged. At least they'd had a clear run at it while Gran was at the shop. Then she'd met an old friend in the street on the way back and on returning found the battery was the wrong size, and so had gone back to the shop with the big torch. All this had taken up a useful amount of time.

  Finally everything was cleared, and the Blackberry Gardens house now full of tea chests, sealed boxes, furniture heaped in the middle of rooms, and naked beds needing to be made up before dark. It was not until the sun disappeared behind heavy clouds that they discovered all the lightbulbs had been taken by the previous occupants. At this point, Mr. Pickering raged and his wife burst into tears. By this time Gran had gone home, but practical Floss looked at her watch and said the shop was still open, and she'd be only a few minutes before being back with new bulbs.

  "Some people take their roses with them," Josie said to Floss comfortingly. "It happened to Mum and Dad, and Dad went after them, told them it was illegal, and brought the roses back with him. Trust Dad!"

  She found a large box and put in bulbs of various wattages. "If anything else is missing," she said, "just give me a ring. Doesn't matter if the shop is closed. We'll be upstairs in the flat, and you can come in round the back way. Best of luck!"

  As Floss walked back towards Blackberry Gardens, thanking God for a village shop, she passed by her old house. Outside was a scruffy-looking white van, not all that large, with two hooded persons of unknown age or sex heaving out pieces of furniture and scuttling up the path and into the house. Floss slowed down. She could see just inside the front door, where the new owner was directing operations. Curtains left by the Pickerings had been drawn across, and as she stared, the front door was shut with a bang.

  Well, sod them, she said to herself. If that's what they want. Still, if they thought their lives could be kept secret from Farnden, they would be wrong. We have ways of finding out.

  "Here you are, Mum!" she called out as she entered her own house. Mrs. Pickering had pulled herself together, and asked Floss if she'd seen how the new people were getting on in what she still thought of as her house.

  "Nearly finished, I should think," Floss said. "There was just a small van with a few sticks of furniture. Maybe Mr. Smith means to buy new, but from what I could see he'll have to start from scratch. And as I was about to give him a cheery wave from the gate, he shut the door in my face!"

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  A NDREW YOUNG HAD AGREED TO MEET SUSIE AT HER GORDON Street house after she finished work at the supermarket. She was on a late shift until eight o'clock, and hurried out to find Andrew waiting for her outside the house. She let him in with her key and put on lights. "Do you think it would be a good idea for me to get a key cut for you?" she said. "Then you could come and go as you like. After all, once you start, I won't always be around."

  "Good idea," he said. He showed her his revised drawings, and they walked round the house, checking everything carefully. "This is my first real assignment," he confided, "so I mean it to be perfect for you." He was standing close to her and smiled. She did her best to flutter her eyelashes, and said she was sure it would be wonderful. She'd probably want to live in it herself, she said.

  Douglas, arriving home after working late at the office, saw the lights blazing next door and knew it would be Susie. And, he supposed, that decorator bloke. Better go and check, he decided, and went out to knock at Susie's back door. He could see over the open yards into Skinny Man's empty house, and was surprised to see a faint glimmer of light behind the drawn curtains. Someone was in there. Surely not Skinny Man? If he had any sense, he'd be a hundred miles away by now. Should he go over and peer through the crack between the curtains? Remember what happened to Clem, he warned himself. Still, the danger should be gone now, together with whatever had been so secret in that house that Clem had died because of it.

  He crept silently forward until he was up to the window. He could see very little, but then a shadow crossed, and he saw a woman carrying a candle, head bent. She seemed to be looking for something, but not finding it. Then she looked across at the window, and immediately the candle was snuffed out.

  Douglas ran. After all, women could carry guns, knives, weapons of mass destruction! His thoughts were out of control, and he dodged back and into Susie's yard. He banged on the door, and was so relieved to see Andrew that he grasped his hand and shook it heartily. Andrew, surprised, smiled and said how nice to see him.

  "It's Douglas," he called back into the house. "Susie asked me to answer the door, in case it was someone scary."

  "Absolutely right," Douglas said. "Better lock this door behind me. You never know in Gordon Street!"

  He made a poor attempt at a laugh, and Andrew said, "Has something happened, Doug? You look like you've seen a ghost."

  Susie had come into the kitchen now, and gave Douglas a hug. "What's up, sweetie?" she said.

  Douglas tossed up whether to alarm her by telling, or to keep quiet about what he'd seen. He decided on the latter. "I'm fine," he said. "I just came over to see if we should all go to the pub and have a snack when you've finished?" Safety in numbers, he said to himself.

  When they trooped out of the front door, Andrew said calmly, "By the way, Susie, when I was waiting for you out here, I saw a woman go into the empty house. Maybe you'll have new neighbours soon."

  "What sort of woman?" chorused Douglas and Susie.

  "The usual sort—arms and legs, boobs, nice hair. Wearing an all-enveloping raincoat."

  "Did she speak to you?" Douglas tried to make it sound casual.

  Andrew shook his head. "Nope. Looked to neither right nor left. Why are you both so bothered? There's bound to be people in and out of an empty house. It surely won't stand empty for long. Rented or for sale, Tresham's quite a desirable place to live."

  "Yeah, well, don't forget Susie's granddad. Nobody could forget that in a hurry. Come on, then, let's head for the bright lights of Tresham."

  MRS. BLAIRGOWRIE WATCHED THEM FROM BEHIND HER BEDROOM curtains, and continued to wait, her gaze fixed on the front of the house opposite. After a while her wait was rewarded. The front door opened and a figure emerged.

  "There she is," muttered Mrs. Blairgowrie. "And she's carrying a bag. So she's found his wretched novels. Good." She closed the gap in the curtains and went downstairs. She noted the time, and then sat down to watch her favourite telly quiz show.

  * * *

  NEXT MORNING, MRS. BLAIRGOWRIE ANSWERED HER FRONT doorbell, dark glasses in place and stick held firmly, and found Dot Nimmo standing on her doorstep.

  "Mrs. Nimmo? Surely you are not due to clean until this afternoon? I've heard nothing from Mrs. Meade."

  "No, dear," said Dot, "I didn't think it necessary to worry Mrs. Meade. I've just called to see if it would be convenient to come in now, as I've got to go on an errand of mercy this afternoon." She did not say what the errand of mercy was, and indeed there was none. Dot had had a hunch on getting out of bed this morning, and she wanted to try it out when she thought she might have Braeside to herself.

  "Well, I suppose it is all right," Mrs. Blairgowrie said reluctantly. "Come on in. It is this morning that my son usually calls, so perhaps you could get downstairs finished before he arrives?"

  Dot gleefully agreed. Just what she was hoping for. She went into the front room and gave the oddly assorted furniture an extra polish. Then she began surreptitiously to open all the drawers and cupboards. There was a heav
y old sideboard, but it contained nothing but glasses and a stained chamber pot. Blimey, that's been there a few years, Dot said to herself. That's where the men used to pee when the ladies went off to powder their noses and the men passed round the port. Dot wrinkled her nose and shut the door firmly.

  It was the same with a small oak bureau. Nothing but a few old books and some dreadful pottery souvenirs of holidays in seaside resorts. Dot found these puzzling, not being places she expected the ladylike Mrs. Blairgowrie to take her summer breaks.

  "Ready for your coffee, dear?" Dot walked through to the kitchen and put on the kettle. "I expect you have coffee in the mornings?"

  Mrs. Blairgowrie was sitting in her armchair, listening to the radio. She looked sightlessly in Dot's direction and nodded. "That would be very kind. Thank you," she said sweetly. "Sometimes I feel very old."

  "Cheer up!" Dot said. "At least you're still pretty nimble on your pins. Still getting out to the supermarket? Isn't this your shopping morning?"

  "Yes, it is. I don't try on my own, just when Alastair is with me. Too much trolley traffic! Oh, and a spoonful of brown sugar in the coffee, please."

  "If it's all right with you," Dot said, "I'll carry on without a break this morning. The sooner I get to see my sister, the better." The smoothest liar in town, she thought. Handy would be proud of me.

  She had been upstairs in the bathroom for only a couple of minutes when she heard the doorbell. She nipped swiftly down the stairs and along the hall to the door. She opened it with a flourish, and saw the looming shape of Mrs. Blairgowrie's son standing on the step.

  "Good morning!" she trilled. "Madam is expecting you." She found it difficult not to chuckle at herself, but kept up the servant bit, showing him into the sitting room and offering to make fresh coffee.

  "No, no, thank you," Mrs. Blairgowrie said. "We shall be going out straightaway, and have coffee when we get back."

  Dot retired upstairs, listening carefully so that she knew when they left the house. After a short while, she heard the front door shut and went to the window, where she could see them walking slowly up the street towards the supermarket. Now for some quick action.

  Next to Mrs. Blairgowrie's bed she dusted the little purdonium which had once contained coal. She hesitated for a moment, feeling a stab of apprehension. Inside, the cupboard was metal-lined, and a faint odour of damp coal escaped. But there was something else. A small heap of shiny magazines slid forward, and Dot picked one off the pile. She smiled in triumph, and settled down to have a good read.

  Five minutes passed, and Dot sat on the edge of the bed, chuckling at the magazines. She did not hear the soft steps on the stairs and jumped out of her skin when a man's voice said, "Well, well. Enjoying Mother's magazines? Wasting time and money, more like." His tone was hard and he walked towards her. She jumped up and retreated to the other side of the bed, but he followed her and caught her by the arm. "I presume you did not expect us back so soon. Mother suspected you were up to something when you turned up so early. Seems she was right."

  "Let go of me!" Dot shouted, and kicked him hard on the shin. Alastair gasped with pain, but still kept hold of her. She bit his hand, but he did not release her. Instead, he recovered his breath and laughed. "I'm used to dealing with wayward women," he said. "In fact, I could get turned on by you, little Dot," he added, and pushed her backwards onto the bed.

  "That's enough!" It was Mrs. Blairgowrie standing in the doorway, looking at Alastair and then at Dot reproachfully. "I see you've found my fun mags," she continued. "And I suppose you have put two and two together? She's a smart one, is Dot Nimmo," she added to Alastair. "What shall we do with her?"

  "Perhaps we should reward her for being so smart?"

  Alastair still held on to Dot, and she aimed another kick at him. "Now, now. Naughty girl," he laughed, and then turned back to Mrs. Blairgowrie. "A few days' holiday, in a nice private spot? Good food, pleasant company, all mod cons. How does that sound, Dottie?"

  "Not bloody likely!" yelled Dot.

  "I'm afraid you have no alternative," Mrs. Blairgowrie said sadly. "I had so hoped I could trust you. But there it is. Don't worry, we'll think of something to tell Mrs. Meade, and Alastair will make sure you are well looked after."

  At this, Alastair roared with laughter and they hustled Dot downstairs without ceremony.

  THIRTY-NINE

  DOT, HER ANKLES AND WRISTS TIED TOGETHER TIGHTLY, SAT fuming in the back seat of Alastair's car. She knew it was no good trying to make anguished faces through the darkened windows at people passing by. She had absolutely no idea where they would take her, but she hoped it would be far enough for her to make a plan. First she had to loosen, but not undo, the knots restricting her. This was one of the first things that Handy had taught her after they were married. "Never know, me duck, where you might end up in my line of business!" He was a good teacher, old Handy, and Dot often thought that if he hadn't been a small-time crook, he'd have made a great scout leader. A sudden picture flashed into her mind of Handy dressed up in scout uniform, and she had to turn a bubble of laughter into a cough.

  "Not far to go now, Dottie dear," said Alastair in his slimy voice. "Nearly there. There'll be one or two friends for you to talk to, and you'll be quite comfortable until we decide what to do with you." Dottie said nothing. The cologne-smelling handkerchief that bound her mouth prevented everything but a groan, and she wouldn't gratify him by that.

  By the time the car began to slow down, Dot had loosened all the knots except the gag and blindfold, but this would soon be done when her hands were free. She had no idea where they were, except that they had at the last minute driven at a crawl over a bumpy surface. There was no sound of other traffic, and all she could hear was the distant yelling of children at play. In the country, then. Somewhere near a school? Or playing fields?

  She concentrated on timing now, and when Alastair took out his mobile phone and said shortly, "We're here," she realised that he was alone, overweight, a smoker, and flabby. How would he get her out of the car?

  "Don't try anything silly, Dottie," he said. "I shall be back for you in seconds."

  Dot couldn't believe her luck. She gave him ten seconds, during which she heard a gate click open and shut, then used the final Handy trick to free her hands, followed by a quick release of the rest. As she got out, she saw they were indeed on the car park of a playing field, parked behind a fence that bounded the back gardens of a row of houses. Each had an exit into the field, and to her horror she saw the gate in front of the car begin to open. But she was wiry and quick, and was across the gravel and out into the lane before she could see Alastair and a black woman, heavily pregnant, emerge. They lumbered after her, but she was twice as fast, and on emerging into the main road, she knew immediately where she was. Long Farnden, and a hundred yards down from Mrs. M's house.

  On the pavement, she turned towards it, but then changed her mind and dashed across the road and into the shop, where Josie was standing behind the counter. She looked at her in surprise and said, "Mrs. Nimmo! You're in a hurry today. What can I do for you?"

  The normality of Josie's kind voice brought a tear of relief to Dot's eye, but she suppressed it firmly and said a dog had been chasing her and she was ridiculously scared of dogs. It was an enormous Alsatian, she began, and then qualified it to a black Labrador, thinking they were two a penny in the country, whereas an Alsatian could be easily identified. She wanted no checking up on her story.

  "Can I sit down for a minute or two?" she said, and Josie answered that of course she could, and it was a pity people didn't control their dogs. There were always complaints in the newsletter about dog doings all over the path where the kids came out of school.

  "And those idiots on horses," Dot agreed, "with loose dogs they can't possibly control. You should hear Mrs. M on the subject," she added.

  "I have." Josie grinned. "Now, I'm going to make you a cup of tea and you can mind the shop for me."

  "No!" s
aid Dot, much alarmed. "N- no, dear. I'm perfectly all right. A chat with you does wonders." The last thing she wanted was to be left alone in the shop for Alastair to come after her in an abducting mood. "I see folk have moved into the Pickerings' old house?" she said.

  Josie frowned. "Yeah, a Mr. John Smith. Mum says he's sinister. He's been in here several times, and I wish I could ban him from the shop. Horrible slimy character, and very pleased with himself."

  Not just now, he's not, Dot said to herself. He must be furious. Now, how to get home, and how to persuade Josie not to tell Mrs. M she'd been in the village? She wanted to sort out her thoughts, but chiefly at the moment she was not keen on admitting to Mrs. M that she had adjusted her rota without asking.

  Deceit was Dot's speciality. "Josie, dear," she said, "can I ask a favour? Would you mind not telling your mum you've seen me? I'm moonlighting, I suppose you'd call it. A secret between ourselves?"

  Josie laughed and nodded. "Cross my heart and hope to die," she said dramatically. Then she looked at the clock. "I can hear the Tresham bus coming, always on time. You could set your watch by it. Oh, are you off? 'Bye, then, Mrs. Nimmo. Take care." As she watched her run across the road without looking, she wondered why Dot was taking the bus. Surely she must have a car in order to work for Mum? Maybe it had broken down. She prepared for an onslaught of bus passengers who would rush in to buy what they'd forgotten in the supermarket. Dot's strange visit went completely from her mind.