by G. M. Dobbs
Again Granny peered through the gap between the seats, trying to figure out where they were, but she couldn’t see anything through the windscreen. She lay back, trying to make sense of the conversation she had overheard.
“It was always going to end in murder”
“It won’t be long now.”
“Did you have anything to do with this murder in the village?”
“That would have been prepared for, planned for.”
What had it all meant?
And whom had Nigel been talking to?
It sounded as if Nigel and the woman had been planning something, a murder. After all the woman had said that it was always going to end that way, and then Nigel had retorted that it would have been planned out.
Whose murder?
Did they mean Edith?
Granny didn’t think so but it was certain that the murder Nigel had been talking about when he’d asked the girl if she was responsible, was the killing of Edith.
Once again Granny peered through the gap between the seats and she noticed a large signpost on a bridge overhead.
Reading Service Station.
Reading!
They were on the way to London, was that where Nigel was meeting the woman on the telephone? That made sense, Granny thought. Nigel was after all a Londoner and if they’d been planning something for some time as the conversation had suggested, then it would have had to have started there. But what had this to do with Edith and Sheila for that matter. “It won’t be long now,” the woman had said. To which Nigel had replied, “The old bugger had better hang on in there until after the wedding.”
The wedding.
Sheila’s wedding.
Granny had been right in her suspicions about Nigel. There was some ulterior motive for him wanting to marry Sheila, but what that motive was remained a mystery. It had something to do with that old bugger, whomever he was, who had to hang on until after the nuptials were completed.
Who was that old bugger and what connection did he have to the wedding?
Granny was pleased with herself, already she had enough to stop Sheila’s wedding and save the woman from some unknown fate. So pleased with herself was she, that she didn’t consider the possible ramifications of the current situation.
Granny heard the click of the indicators and then felt the car slowing down. She peered between the seats again and saw the car start up the incline of the slip road, which would lead them into the service station.
Sixteen
Arthur was worried sick.
‘I really think we should go to the police, Dad,’ Leanne said.
‘I am the police,’ Dai twice chipped in.
‘Not you the real police,’ again Leanne.
‘I’ve got the same powers as the regular police,’ Twice pointed out. ‘And if you’d involved me in this mad cap scheme in the first place then I’m sure we wouldn’t find ourselves in this position.’ Twice had only called around to borrow Arthur’s steam cleaner and had immediately found himself embroiled in the latest crisis to hit the Smith household.
‘You only joined because your missus liked the uniform,’ Leanne, who was close friends with Twice’s wife, Sonia retorted. ‘You should have gone to Ann Summers like everyone else.’
‘I am the police,’ Twice said, firmly. What Leanne had said was true, but what did it matter? Since joining he’d discovered he liked the job, had an aptitude for it and was hoping that his application to join the regulars would be accepted. The fact that he and Granny had discovered the weapon used in the killing of Edith Sullivan was sure to help with his progress.
‘Enough,’ Gerald said, clapping his hands together. ‘We really need to decide what we are going to do. My mam is missing, you know.’
‘Try and phone her again,’ Maud suggested.
‘It’s no use,’ Arthur said,’ her phone’s off.’ He tried anyway and was once more greeted by the novelty Ozzy Osbourne voicemail.
‘Well we’ve got to do something,’ Leanne said. ‘We can’t just sit here and hope she turns up.’
‘Right,’ Twice said, getting to his feet. ‘I’m taking charge here.’
‘Oh sit down, Dai,’ Maud said.
Twice slumped back down on the sofa.
‘One hour,’ Arthur said. ‘I’m giving her one more hour and if she hasn’t been in touch then we’ll have no option but go to the police.
Twice was once again going to point out that he was the police, but decided against it. Just because he was a special constable, a volunteer, no one took him seriously. It rankled but he knew there was nothing he could do about it and like it or not, the fact was that the general public’s image of the special constables was not unlike that of the home guard during the war. They were perceived as amateurs on a power trip, insignificant men and women, who were using the uniform to gain some of the respect they felt was owed them. Twice was justifiably annoyed by the attitude, which he felt should be reserved for traffic wardens.
Granny lay perfectly still while Nigel parked the car.
Nigel got out of the car and groaned as he stretched his legs.
Granny heard the door locks engage and she waited several moments before daring to sit up and peer through the windscreen. She saw Nigel’s back as he vanished into the service station restaurant. A minibus with the words Sunshine Tours painted in gaudy yellow across the bodywork, the “O” in “tour” was a smiling face, pulled up alongside the range rover and Granny smiled at the driver who was watching her as she climbed over the rear seats. There were no passengers on the minibus and the driver gave Granny a slight smile before pulling a newspaper from the dashboard and buying his face in its pages.
Granny immediately took her mobile phone from her pocket and switched it on. It took a moment to power up and then started beeping as the calls she had missed registered on the screen.
You have 14 missed calls and 9 voicemail messages.
Granny scrolled through the calls. Most of them were from Arthur but there were two from Leanne and Dai Twice had also called. Knowing that Nigel could return at any moment, she didn’t want to risk calling, and so she selected Arthur, Leanne and Twice’s numbers and composed a group text, telling them she was OK but couldn’t explain what was happening. She ended the text by promising to phone within a couple of hours. She pressed send and then thought of something else and quickly composed another text, telling them not to do anything, to sit tight, until they heard from her.
That done Granny switched the phone off and dropped it into her pocket. She thought of getting out of the car to stretch her legs, maybe smoke a pipe, but decided it would be too much of a risk. If Nigel returned while she was out of the car then not only would she be stranded here, but she would miss the chance of getting to the bottom of everything that was going on and Granny was convinced that she was close to not only solving Edith’s murder, but also discovering the reason for Nigel wanting to marry Sheila.
Again the words of that telephone conversation came back to her.
“The old bugger had better hang on in there until after the wedding.”
That was the key to all this. Finding out who the old bugger was and what connection he had to the wedding would, Granny felt, make sense of everything that had been going on.
Granny tried to remember each and every detail of the telephone conversation she had overheard but already it was blurring in her memory. Nigel had told the woman on the phone that he was going to stop at the services and grab a coffee and a bite to eat. And as those words came back to her, Granny felt the overwhelming urge to pee.
She had no choice and had to take the risk.
Granny climbed through to the front of the car and frowned when she noticed there were no locks on the doors. She tried the handle but the car was locked and so she frantically searched on the dashboard for a button that would unlock the car. She found one, pressed it, and sure enough she heard the locks open. The problem now though was if she got out of the car and it locke
d behind her, but then she remembered Nigel had not locked the car when he’d gone back into the house earlier and the vehicle hadn’t self locked, which had allowed Granny to stow away in the first place.
Granny took a look around but the was no sign of Nigel returning, and so she stepped out of the car. She gently closed the door, but didn’t allow the lock to engage. And then after another quick glance around her she sprinted to the service station. As soon as she went through the automatic doors, she spied the public toilets directly ahead of her.
Afterwards Granny went to the restaurant but didn’t go in. She peered through the doors and eventually spotted Nigel. He was seated at a small table to the immediate left of the door; his attention taken up by his meal. Granny could see the meal consisted of chips and some generic slodge, which could have been anything. He also had a coffee besides him and so the old woman felt she was safe for the moment, and had plenty of time to get back to the car.
There was a W H Smith store next to the restaurant and Granny went through and bought herself a soft drink and a packet of crisps. She would have liked something a little more substantial, but she couldn’t risk staying away from the car for long. She went and paid for her items and then made her exit, walking straight into Nigel as she came out of the store.
Seventeen
‘Mrs Smith?’
Bugger, Granny thought.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence while they both looked at each other, as if not believing their own eyes. Granny could see that Nigel was absolutely flabbergasted and seemed to be trying to work out what had happened her.
‘Sunshine Tours,’ Granny said, suddenly remembering the minibus that was currently parked next to Nigel’s range rover.
It had been the first thing that had come into the old woman’s mind, and at least it stopped her standing there with a stupid expression upon her face. There’s no way he could know you stowed away in the car, she told herself. Seeing you here’s taken him aback, given him a surprise but he’s not going to think anything sinister is going on. All the same she feared he would guess she had followed him, been with him for the entire journey.
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m on a sunshine tour,’ Granny could see the look of confusion on Nigel’s face and felt that she must look equally confused as her mind raced to come up with a plausible explanation as to why she should be here. ‘Oh yes, we go every year. Wonderful they are, you really should try one. I tell you what - why don’t you and Sheila come with us next year? That would be good. You’d love it, I never miss a trip.’
‘But didn’t I,’ Nigel’s words trailed off into silence while he made sense of his jumbled thoughts. ‘Funny, I could have sworn I,’ he shook his head. ‘I couldn’t have.’
Granny was now as confused as he was, and she stared back at him with a blank expression. They both had to stand aside for a woman to pass with a pushchair.
‘I did,’ Nigel said after a moment. ‘I saw you this morning. I talked to you.’
‘Yes,’ Granny said. ‘While I was out cycling.’
‘But now you’re here.’
‘We didn’t leave until noon.’
Nigel nodded.
‘What a bizarre coincidence,’ he said. ‘And if you’ll excuse the cliché, it’s a very small world indeed.’
‘You’re telling me,’ Granny said with a huge smile.’ When I saw you coming towards me I couldn’t believe my eyes.’
Nigel laughed.
‘Quite amazing, really,’ he said.
You don’t know how amazing, Granny thought.
Nigel didn’t seem to suspect anything untoward but this latest turn of events presented Granny with more than one problem. For a start it meant that the surveillance was over, for the moment at least, and just when she had been so close. Still she had to console herself with the fact it hadn’t been a complete waste of time, and she had at least discovered that Nigel had an ulterior motive in marrying Sheila. If not for this stroke of bad luck Granny was sure she would have discovered just what that motive was, as well as the identity of the mystery female voice on the telephone – the woman whom Nigel seemed to suspect of Edith’s murder. At the moment though, the most pressing problem seemed to be that she was now stranded in this bloody service station.
A taxi back to Wales would cost a fortune and was out of the question.
It looked as if Arthur would have to drive up and collect her.
‘Where are you heading?’ Granny asked.
‘London,’ he answered still chuckling from what he saw as an unlikely turn of events, and then added: ‘ I’ve some business matters to sort out.’
‘I thought you were retired.’ Granny wasn’t at all sure why she was keeping the conversation going. All she wanted was for Nigel to go and leave her so she could telephone her rescue party. Act natural, she told herself. Remember this is nothing more than an unexpected meeting between travellers.
‘I am,’ he smiled, warmly and again Granny felt that she saw through the gesture. It was as if he was incapable of a genuine smile. ‘However from time to time old business matters crop up and require my attention. No rest for the wicked and all that.’
Granny nodded, thinking please just go.
‘Anyway,’ Nigel said. ‘Must dash.’
Thank goodness for that.
‘Me too,’ Granny said. ‘Don’t want my bus to go without me.’
‘Then come,’ Nigel’s smile was wider than ever. ‘I’ll walk with you to the car-park.’
There was nothing to do, no excuse plausible enough and so Granny simply nodded and walked with him.
As soon as they went through the automatic doors and out onto the concourse, they saw the minibus with the vibrant Sunshine Tours logo go past them on its way to the exit that led back onto the motorway.
Nigel stuck up his hand, trying to get the driver’s attention but the minibus, now filled with passengers, kept going.
‘Damn and blast,’ Nigel looked at Granny. ‘Was that your bus?’
The old woman nodded, thinking this was a stroke of luck at least. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about the driver not allowing her onto the bus, while Nigel looked on.
‘I’ve missed my bus,’ Granny said.
‘But surely they should have noticed you weren’t aboard?’
‘You’d think so,’ Granny said with a tight smile. ‘Mind you, Arthur was sleeping when we pulled in. Chances are he’s still asleep and doesn’t know I’m not there. He’s fond of sleeping is my Arthur.’
‘Well, he’ll get a shock when he wakes up,’ Nigel pointed out. ‘But what are you going to do? Can’t you telephone the tour company?’
‘I suppose I’ll have to,’ Granny shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ve got their number somewhere on my phone.’ She hoped Nigel wouldn’t insist on hanging around until she had telephoned and arranged for someone to pick her up.
‘They’ll have to send someone else to get you. And you can meet up with the tour later.’
‘Yes,’ Granny said and willed Nigel to go on his way and leave her so she could make arrangements to get from home.
‘I’ll do that,’ she said.
‘Where were you going in any case?’
‘London,’ once again Granny’s mind was racing. Keep it real, she told herself. He mustn’t suspect anything.
‘Les Miserables,’ the old woman finally said and sighed. She had seen the movie version a week or so ago. Gerald had hired the DVD, because he was thinking of seeing the show the next time he visited his friend Melvin in London, and he had insisted Granny watch it with him. The old woman, usually more your heavy metal thunder sort, had been surprised how much she had enjoyed the movie.
‘Ahh Victor Hugo,’ Nigel nodded. ‘A fine show, indeed. I’ve seen it several times myself.’
‘Personally I would have much preferred to see Mama Mia again,’ Granny said. ‘But my Arthur wouldn’t hear of it, a real culture vulture he is.’
Nigel smiled. He
had briefly met Granny’s husband, Arthur at the village fete and he certainly hadn’t seemed the kind for musicals. Still appearances could and quite often were deceptive.
‘Look,’ Nigel said. ‘I’m travelling to London. I could take you in to Kensington and you could get a cab to the West End. I assume the show’s in the West End?’
‘Where else,’ Granny smiled. ‘And thank you. That’s very kind.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Nigel offered that charm filled smile of his. ‘Besides I could do with the company.’
‘I don’t want to be a nuisance.’
‘Mrs Smith,’ Nigel said. ‘ You could not possibly be a nuisance and there’s no chance that I would leave you stranded like this.’
‘Thank you,’ Granny said and added: ‘When I get home I’ll bake you a dozen of those bakestones you like so much.’
‘I’ll hold you to that. Come on.’
And so they walked across the car park and for the second time that day Granny got into Nigel’s car.
Eighteen
It was certainly a lot more comfortable in the passenger seat than it had been in the back. Not that Granny had found it a hardship travelling in the space behind the rear seats, but this was the height of luxury. She had enough legroom to really stretch out and the plush leather upholstery seemed to mould perfectly around her frame.
Nigel had the radio on but had tuned it from the classical station to Radio Two, which he felt was far more suitable to a woman like Granny. As they approached London they both hummed along to one golden oldie after another.
‘I think this weather’s going to break,’ Nigel observed after a mile or so during which they had said nothing to each other.