Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987)

by Ann Purser

  §

  Jamie finished his homework and sat staring out of the window at the road, where the light was slowly going. He was fed up. All week he’d been looking forward to another piano lesson. Couldn’t Miss Abraham change the tyre herself? He thought of her small, clean hands and thought probably not. Come to that, why hadn’t she said he could go to Cathanger instead? He could easily bike over, and would be no trouble. That dopey old mother of Miss Abraham wouldn’t object to one boy playing the piano very quietly, surely? He looked at his watch. Not much time before it got dark, but he’d got lights on his bike. He could be back before anyone noticed.

  He stood up, tidied his homework and went quietly downstairs into the living-room to collect his piano book. He opened the front door gently and slipped out. No one saw him go. Josie and Douglas were buried in homework, Derek was not home yet, and Lois and Gran were busy in the kitchen.

  There was very little traffic on the country road to Waltonby, and Jamie went fast, happy to be released and sure that, after all, he’d get his lesson and be able to get on to the next stage. Just before he reached the tunnel of trees by Cathanger Mill, he realized it was nearly dark, and got off to switch on his lights. Before he remounted, he heard a voice and saw a girl coming towards him, leading a Labrador puppy. It hadn’t quite got the hang of going for a walk, and was jumping about all over the place.

  “That’s a nice dog,” he said, and the girl smiled.

  “Yes, isn’t he sweet one?” she said, and Jamie realized she was foreign.

  Must be that au pair girl Mum had mentioned. Anna, was that her name? “I’m Jamie Meade,” he said. “I think my mum’s lady comes to clean your house?”

  “Of course,” said Anna. “Miss Abraham comes. Rosie – Mrs Charrington – thinks she’s so good, but I think she is a…a…”

  “I like her,” said Jamie stoutly. “I’m goin’ there to have a piano lesson. She usually comes to us, but her car got a flat tyre, so I’ve biked over.”

  “To the mill?” Anna seemed surprised.

  “Yep,” said Jamie, getting back on his bike. “Better get goin’, else it’ll be too late. Bye!”

  Anna stared at his retreating back and shrugged. She knew nobody went inside the mill except the Abraham family. Ah well, maybe the old woman had changed her mind. She untangled the puppy’s lead and went on her way, dreaming about a student she’d met at her English classes. She forgot all about Jamie Meade.

  The track down to the mill nearly threw Jamie off his bike several times, but finally he came to the yard. It was almost empty and silent except for the occasional lowing from the cow shed. He couldn’t see any life in the house, and two of the windows had curtains drawn tightly already. Right, fine, he’d knock at the door and Enid would be pleased to see him.

  Several minutes passed, and he saw a curtain drawn back a fraction. Another shiver caused Jamie to step back. Better give up and go home, he thought. As he turned to go, he heard the door creak open.

  “What do you want?” a gruff voice said.

  “Is Miss Abraham there?” said Jamie, and heard his own voice tremble.

  “Not sure,” said the man. “What do you want her for? We don’t like kids coming down here…”

  He began to close the door, and Jamie said quickly, “She teaches me piano. I’ve come for a lesson…she had a flat tyre and couldn’t come to us in Farnden…”

  Then he heard Enid’s voice calling out from behind the man. “Who is it, Father?”

  “Some kid says he’s come for a piano lesson. Must’ve got the wrong house. Best be off now,” he added to Jamie, and the door once more began to close.

  “It’s Jamie!” said Enid’s voice, and then she was there at the door, pushing past her father. “Who told you to come here? You know we don’t have visitors, Jamie,” she said, and her voice was kind, trying to be normal and pleasant.

  “Nobody told me. I decided,” said Jamie. “I was fed up you couldn’t make it, so I biked over. I’ve got lights,” he added helpfully.

  “Get rid of him, Enid,” her father said, “else you know there’ll be big trouble.”

  But Enid shook her head. She smiled crookedly, not her usual smile, and put out her hand. “Never mind, Jamie,” she said, “now you’re here, you’d better come in. Come along, follow me.” She took his hand and drew him inside. The door shut behind them, and he heard bolts being pushed into place. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t come. He wished he was back home with Mum and Gran in the warm kitchen, where there was plenty of light and the smell of supper cooking, and he was safe.

  Twenty-Eight

  “Does your mother know you’ve come?” It was the first thing Enid had said to Jamie since leading him through a silent kitchen, where cats were curled up on the rag rug in front of the fire, closed-up balls of fur, and a sheep dog growled and bared its teeth at him.

  “Um, yes,” he said. “But perhaps I’d better not stay. That man said – ”

  “Oh, don’t take any notice of him,” said Enid. “That’s my father, and his bark’s much worse than his bite.” She led him through into a dark hallway, and he almost tripped over a tray of dirty dishes left on the floor outside a closed door. “Oops!” said Enid gaily. “That’s my mother’s. She likes to eat on her own…well, do everything on her own, really. She puts her tray out for us to collect.” She bent down, picked it up and put it on a side table. Then she opened another door on the opposite side of the hallway and said, “Come on in, Jamie, we can make a start.”

  It was the dining-room, Jamie supposed. A harsh overhead light shone on a large oval table, highly polished, with a vase of artificial flowers set on a lace mat, exactly in the centre. Six chairs were neatly placed around it, and at the side were silver candlesticks and covered dishes on a massive carved sideboard.

  “What’re they for?” Jamie walked over and touched the ornate lids.

  “Oh, vegetables and things,” said Enid casually. “Never used now, of course, but I keep them cleaned. They came from Father’s family, and I don’t like to get rid of them. Who knows when we might need them?”

  Jamie accepted this without question, and looked around.

  “Cool!” he said, seeing the piano in the corner. It was very large and solid, plain in a good way. He could read the word Bluthner on the front, and Dale, Forty & Co. in gilt lettering.

  “It came from Cheltenham, many years ago. It was my great-grandmother’s,” Enid said.

  “Will I be able to play it?” said Jamie apprehensively.

  “The keyboard’s exactly the same as yours,” said Enid reassuringly, opening up the lid and setting a piano primer on the music rest. He sat down, and Enid showed him how to adjust the height of the stool, spinning round and round, until it was right for him. Then she drew up one of the big dining-chairs beside him. “Right,” she said, “off you go. Let’s have the scale of C major.”

  He began to play, and could hear at once that the piano was out of tune. It bothered him, but he said nothing. Everything Enid told him was like a magic way into a different world. He was totally absorbed, and at first didn’t hear the noise coming from the other side of the hall. Finally he stopped playing, and looked at Enid. “What’s that?” he said, as the rapping became savage and sharp.

  Her expression had changed, her shoulders drooped and she looked down at her hands. “It’s Mother,” she said. “She doesn’t like us playing the piano. I’m so sorry, Jamie, but I’m afraid we’ll have to stop. But never mind,” she continued, “I’ll give you some exercises to do for next week, and then you can get back home. It’s dark now, and I expect your mother will be glad to see you back.”

  They left the dining-room, and Enid switched off the light, pulling the door shut. In the dim, narrow passageway, Jamie followed close behind. As Enid picked up the tray from the side table, Jamie froze in terror at a loud hail of raps and shouts coming from very close to him.

  §

  “Give Jamie a shout,” said Lois to Dougla
s. They were all relaxed in front of the television, and the scent of freesias brought home by Derek filled the room. “It’s his favourite programme,” she added. “Must have done his homework by now.”

  “Unlike him to be s’keen on maths homework,” said Derek, his feet propped up on the stone fireplace. “Cold tonight,” he added. “Clear sky later, and no wind.”

  “Just as well you didn’t put out them plants,” said Lois comfortably. “Douglas, please do as you’re asked,” she added. “Go and call Jamie to come down. You bet he’s stuck to that computer again.”

  Gran sighed. “I think he’s sulking a bit, about missing his piano lesson. He’s really keen, that lad.”

  “Yes, well,” said Derek. “He’ll have to learn that life’s full o’little disappointments. Douglas! Do as your mother said, and do it now!”

  Douglas got up from his chair reluctantly and sloped off to the foot of the stairs to call his brother. When Jamie did not appear, Derek stirred. “No, you stay there, Lois,” he said, as she also began to rise. “I’ll go. Do me heavy father act. That should bring him…”

  Lois heard Derek padding upstairs, and then silence for a few seconds. Then she heard doors opening and shutting, and finally Derek’s rapid descent.

  “He’s not there!” he said.

  “What d’you mean, ‘not there’?” Lois frowned, but Douglas shrugged.

  “Probably in the bog,” he said.

  “No, I’ve looked. I’ve looked everywhere, and he’s not in the house.”

  Sudden fear shot through Lois. She ran out into the hall and began to call. “Jamie? Jamie! Come here at once!” Old memories of enemies she had made through working for Cowgill came rushing back. Revenge for her part in nobbling villains had already struck at her family.

  “Hold on, Lois,” Derek said. “Let’s think.”

  “Ring the police,” said Gran. “You can’t muck about when a lad’s gone missing. In the dark and cold…” There was a break in her voice, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Not for the minute,” said Derek, switching off the television. “Sit down, all of you. Now, where might he have gone. Douglas?”

  “His friend Sam,” said Douglas. “Just down the road. We could ring.”

  “OK – you do that,” said Lois, holding on, as Derek had said. “Josie? You got any ideas?”

  “You could look in the garage, or the shed,” she replied. “Start close to home. If the daft little sod’s hiding, it could be there.”

  “Language,” said Derek automatically. “Go and look, Josie.” He said it without much hope. Why should a boy hide away in a freezing cold shed for no reason at all? Douglas came back from the telephone, shaking his head. “Sam hasn’t sin him since they got off the school bus. Didn’t know where he could’ve gone. He said he’d help look, but I said we were OK.”

  Lois clenched her fists to keep the panic down. “He wouldn’t go with them kids round the back of the village hall, would he?” Nobody wanted to think about that. It was well known as the local meeting place for having a smoke, exchanging tabs, Long Farnden’s very own drug scene.

  Josie came in from the garden. “Nope, he’s nowhere there. But his bike’s gone, Mum.” Not good news, she knew. The village hall kids always had their bikes for a quick getaway. Lois pulled on her anorak, and turned to Derek. “You stay here for a few minutes,” she said. “I’ll be back. If I don’t find him, we ring Keith Simpson.”

  Derek nodded, but thought privately that they could do a better search themselves than bring in Constable Plod. He felt reasonably calm. Jamie was a sensible lad, and would not normally do anything stupid. But was this a normal thing? He’d never run away before, or anything like that. Always been a bit spoilt, perhaps, being the youngest. But not wilful or disobedient. Sometimes Derek thought he could be a bit more independent, not so close to his mother and Gran.

  In the kitchen, Gran sat at the table, eyes closed, thinking.

  §

  Lois walked quickly. She had a torch, but did not switch it on. Long Farnden had no street lights, but she knew her way like a cat, avoiding potholes and broken pavements. She intended to come round the corner of the village hall very quietly, and hoped to surprise them. She knew most of them. They were not all deprived kids from broken homes, not by any means. Good, middle-class backgrounds, most of them. Working mothers, though. She felt a pang of guilt.

  As she expected, the small huddle of teenagers broke up quickly, peeling off on their bikes and disappearing into the night. Only one figure remained, and it was not Jamie. “Mrs M? What are you…?” Lois knew the voice at once.

  “Hazel?”

  “Yes, it’s me, in case you’re wondering. I’m working. For our mutual friend. Spy, informer, grass…What shall we call ourselves? This is my patch…but I s’pose you’re not here to help?”

  In the anxiety of the moment, Lois had forgotten her row with Hazel. “I’m looking for Jamie,” she said. “He’s gone missing. He could have been here.”

  Hazel shook her head. “Not a chance, thank God,” she said. “This lot are regulars. Not your Jamie. When’d he go?”

  “Not sure.” Lois explained the details briefly to Hazel, then said she must be getting back.

  By the time she returned to the house, Derek had made a plan. “I’ll get the van,” he said, “and you take your car, Lois. We’ll go slowly round the villages and see if we spot him. Josie and Douglas can go round likely friends in the village. And stick together, you two. Gran can stay here, in case Jamie comes back, or there are any phone calls or messages.”

  “An’ if we don’t find him, we ring Keith Simpson,” repeated Lois. She looked at the clock. It was half past eight. Time was passing, and they still had no idea where Jamie had gone. “Where’s Gran?” she said.

  “In the kitchen,” Josie said, putting on her coat. “Tell her to stay here and wait.” Lois fished in her pocket for car keys.

  Josie went into the kitchen, and saw Gran sitting there, eyes closed. “Gran?” Poor old thing. Must be upset.

  “Yes?”

  Eyes still closed.

  “Um, we’re all goin’ out looking. Mum says will you stay here and hold the fort?”

  Gran nodded. “I’m thinking, dear,” she said. “Off you go.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Jamie sat in the Abraham’s kitchen, a mug of hot milk in his hand, and a cat curled up on his lap.

  “Drink that all down,” said Enid. “Then we’ll get you home.”

  Walter Abraham had said he was sorry Mother had made such a scene. “Not a good idea, you coming down here,” he added wearily. In a voice Jamie had not heard before, Enid retorted that Mother’d soon get used to it if they didn’t pander to her so much. Walter raised his eyebrows and said when Jamie had finished his milk he’d load the bike into the back of the truck and run him home. “Shouldn’t be out at this hour on your own, anyway,” he said. “I don’t know what your parents are thinking of.”

  “Shouldn’t we ring them?” said Enid. “Just to tell them you’re on the way home?”

  “No, they won’t worry,” lied Jamie. “I often go out at night on my bike. I got lights. I’ll be OK – no need for you to take me in the truck.” He was not at all keen on arriving home in the care of Mr Abraham. He was planning to say he’d been for a ride around, and hadn’t noticed it was getting dark. Perhaps he’d say Sam had asked him to go round to his house. They wouldn’t mind that. Apart from a bollocking for not telling them, he’d probably get off lightly. But not if he arrived home in Mr Abraham’s truck.

  Enid had made light of the storm from inside the locked room. Ushering Jamie back into the kitchen, she had confronted her father’s angry face with a joke about Mother being so stupid that she didn’t know when she was listening to a budding genius. Then she’d insisted on giving him this milk, in spite of him saying he didn’t much like hot milk. “It’ll warm you up,” she said, “before you go home.”

  He was certainl
y warm now. The fire was in a kind of basket in an old black range, and the other cats were as near to it as they could get. The one on his lap was purring loudly, and he felt quite at ease. If he had to go home in the truck, he’d get Mr Abraham to drop him outside the gate, and then wait until he’d gone before he went inside. Yes, that’d do. He downed the last of the milk and carefully set the cat down on the floor. “We got a cat,” he said to Mr Abraham. “He’s called Melvyn, after Josie’s boyfriend. He’s in prison now…well, some sort of prison. You probably heard about it.”

  The silence was electric. “Prison?” said Walter finally. “No, we’ve heard nothing about prison in this house.” He was making a great effort to remain normal, pleasant. He had to get this boy out of the house and back home without causing any more upset. “Get his coat, Enid,” he said. “I’ll put the bike in the truck, and we’ll go.”

  §

  The yard was very dark, and Jamie could just see the outline of the old truck over by the barn. “Why don’t you have an outside light, Mr Abraham?” he said. “My dad could fix you one of those that comes on if anybody goes by. Warns you of intruders!” Jamie laughed, completely at ease now. He couldn’t see in the darkness that there was no answering smile from Walter Abraham. Jamie climbed into the truck cab, and glanced back through the dusty window. His bike was safely in the back. And so was something else, someone else, hunched into the corner. Jamie looked harder. It wasn’t Mr Abraham, who was fiddling about at the front of the truck. All Jamie could see was a whitish face, and it was looking straight at him. His new-found confidence evaporated at once. Who was it? And why was it staring at him like that?

  Walter climbed into the driving seat and turned the key. The engine spluttered and died. “Damn!” he said. He tried again, with the same result.

  “There’s a man in the back,” Jamie said, and his voice wobbled.

  “Nonsense,” said Walter impatiently. “It’s only shadows. Now let me get this engine started and we’ll be off.” He tried again, but still with no success. “Damn,” he said again. “I’ll have to go and get some stuff…engine’s probably damp. Wait here, boy, I shan’t be long.”