Tragedy at Two

by Ann Purser

  “D’you want me to do some phoning around?” Josie offered. They fixed dates and times, and Lois went away feeling quite restored. All she had to do now was break the news to Derek and Gran. Her optimism took a small dive, but she was up again by the time she had called on Floss and received an enthusiastic response from her.

  “I reckon Andrew will be keen, too,” Floss said. “Ben met him in town, and he was just finishing that décor job in Waltonby. We shall be fine, Mrs. M. Go and enjoy yourselves, but don’t get taken off by the raggle-taggle gypsies!”

  Lois waited until they were sitting round the kitchen table at teatime. Derek was cheerful, having had a winner at Ling-field races. “Came in first, miles ahead of the others,” he said.

  “Was it that Tony what gave you the tip?” Gran said suspiciously.

  “Never you mind,” Derek said. “All you need to know is that it won.”

  “D’you reckon he tells us about the ones that lose?” Lois said to her mother. They laughed together, and Lois judged the atmosphere was about right for breaking the Appleby news. Inevitably, she was wrong.

  “Definitely not,” said Derek, immediately sober. “I’m not havin’ any wife of mine goin’ to that gypsy fair. Hundreds of ’em! You’ll not be safe for one minute. And what about Josie? Young girl like her? How could you even consider it, Lois?”

  Gran said, “You must be mad. And who’s going to run the shop? I have other things to do, you know, besides standing in for Josie selling groceries.”

  “And newspapers,” Lois said.

  “Lois! Be serious,” Derek said.

  “Right. I’m being serious. So here’s what we’ll do. Josie and me will stay in a reputable hotel or B & B, and not be out late. There’s loads of police around. It’s been happening for hundreds of years, so they know all the dodges. Now, Floss will take over the shop, and the Post Office will supply a temporary. Andrew will take over Floss’s cleaning, and the whole thing will run like clockwork.”

  “So you don’t want me to do the shop at all?” Gran said, now feeling left out.

  “Wouldn’t dream of asking, Mum,” Lois said. “I know what a busy woman you are.”

  Derek sat in silence, frowning. At last he said, “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

  Lois took a deep breath, crossed her fingers under the table, and said that she would love him to come, but thought he wouldn’t be interested.

  More silence. Gran got up from the table, taking dirty crocks and putting them into the sink.

  “Derek?” Lois said.

  “Lois.”

  “Well?”

  “Well what? Are you asking my permission?”

  Lois shook her head. “But I’d like to know if you’ve changed your mind at all,” she said gently.

  Derek sighed. “It’s no good, Lois,” he said. “You know you’ll do exactly what you want, whatever I say.” He paused, and she said nothing. “Well,” he continued, “I suppose there’s safety in numbers. You and Josie must stick together. Don’t let her out of your sight. And ring me every evening. I can’t say I’m happy for you to go, but if that’s what you want. . . .”

  Lois stood up and put her arms round Derek’s shoulders. She kissed him on top of his head, and said he was the best husband in the world. Gran clattered dishes in the washing-up bowl, and said crossly, “Lois Weedon, I don’t know where your father and me went wrong. And that’s all I’m saying.”

  Lois knew that when her mother lapsed into using her maiden name, she was truly in disgrace. “It’ll be fine, Mum,” she said. “I’ll bring you a nice little horse back from the fair.”

  After that, she judged it wise to shut herself in her office for half an hour while they chewed it over between them.

  She had just sat down and switched on her computer, when the phone rang. She answered it at once, and heard a voice that was faintly familiar. “Mrs. Meade? Lois? This is Greg . . . here. Rob’s brother. I have something very interesting to share with you. Would it be possible for me to pop round in about an hour?”

  “Fine,” said Lois. “You know where we are. In an hour, then. Derek and Gran are here, and I’m sure they’ll be pleased to see you again.”

  She put down the phone and smiled. Things were definitely looking up.

  FORTY-ONE

  FOUR OF THE GANG HAD GATHERED BEHIND THE VILLAGE HALL, and were lazily discussing films they had seen on television. Not all four lived in Long Farnden. Two of them had cycled over from Fletching, without the proper helmets, of course, but with hoods up and eyes down.

  “Hey, did you know they’re advertising crash-proof hoodies’ gear?”

  The others laughed, doubting his word. Sally T-J came sprinting round the corner, and asked if Mark Brown had been there. The others shook their heads. She subsided in a crouch on the tarmac, and lit a cigarette. “Right,” she said, “I’ll wait. He’ll probably turn up.”

  “Somethin’ to tell him?”

  “Mind your own business,” Sally said, and they all laughed knowingly. They said that if it was what they thought it was, Mark Brown would do well to stay away.

  Five minutes passed, and the four said they were off to Waltonby. A new source had moved into that village, and they were keen to try it out. Sally didn’t move. Her head was sunk into her shoulders, and she drew on the cigarette in some desperation. What should she do if Mark didn’t turn up? Twenty minutes went by.

  “Sally?” It was him. “Where’s the others? I thought we were meeting them here tonight?”

  “They’ve gone over to Waltonby. New contact. I waited for you. Wanted to see you specially,” she added, and looked up at him appealingly. Then she stood up and put her arms round his neck. “Do you love me, Markie?”

  “You know I do,” he said warily. This wasn’t the bright, casual Sally he was used to. Still, a few declarations of love wouldn’t come amiss just at this time. He wasn’t sure how much more contempt he could take in his own home, from his own parents.

  He kissed her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “This is different, isn’t it, you and me. I’ve not felt like this about anyone else,” she said.

  Mark began to hear alarm bells. “Nor’ve I,” he said. “But we’re young yet, as they’re always telling us. You’ll probably be fed up with me after another couple of months. Move on to somebody rich and aristocratic.”

  Sally shook her head, her face still buried in his jacket. “Nope, it’s because you’re who you are. Not rich and not aristocratic. That’s why I love you, ’cos you’re real.”

  Oh, God, thought Mark. She’s not telling me all this because she’s . . . oh, no, not that.

  Her next words interrupted his thought, confirming it before he’d had time to ask. “So I hope you’ll be pleased, Markie, to hear that I’m up the duff. We are going to have a baby.”

  “We?”

  She looked closely into his eyes so that he couldn’t do his usual trick of turning away and avoiding anything he did not want to hear.

  “Yep. It takes two. You and me have made a baby. The beginning of one, anyway.”

  Mark saw his chance. “Better get rid of it, then,” he said. “Must be early days yet. Your lot must know the right people.” His family certainly didn’t, he knew, and then the awful prospect of having to tell his mother and father came down on him like a black pall over his head. Things were really bad already. He couldn’t do it.

  But Sally was smiling. “No need,” she said. “This is a new sprog and it’s ours. I can’t destroy it, Mark. I mean to love it, care for it like I’ve seen other girls caring for their babies. And you will, too, when you think about it. In fact, it could be the answer to all our problems.”

  He stared at her, amazed at what she was saying. He reckoned he was inches away from rock bottom already. No job, father hated him, mother permanently despairing. His so-called friends were mostly problem cases themselves, relying on drugs and drink to prop them up. He could see no future at all, let alone the
rosy one that Sally seemed to be floating in.

  “Sally,” he said, “you’re in fantasy land. We’re about the last people in the world who could take on the responsibility of a kid!”

  “You’ve forgotten my despised family,” she said, now more like her old sharp self. “I really want this baby so much that I’ll force them to help. I’ve worked it all out. I know how to handle Auntie. Trust me, Mark. It’ll be a new beginning for us both.”

  He did not reply, but stood miserably in front of her, his head hanging down so that she could not see his desperate expression.

  “I’m going to the doc tomorrow,” she continued happily. “You can come with me, if you like.”

  He groaned. “Dad will kill me,” he said. “Finish the job he’s been working on for years.”

  “Forget him,” Sally said. “We don’t need him. You won’t need him. I’ve got it all worked out,” she repeated. “Now, I have to get back. If you want to come tomorrow, I’ll see you in the surgery at nine thirty sharp.”

  Mark said nothing. He watched her until she was out of sight, then decided he would join the others, find himself a little consolation. But when he got back on his bike, he realised he couldn’t do that. His head was spinning, and he headed for home. There was nowhere else to go.

  MRS. T-J WAS WATCHING HER FAVOURITE PROGRAMME ON television when Sally came into the long drawing room. Without turning her head, her great-aunt told her to sit down and be quiet, or else go up to her room. “I have to see who gets to the final,” she said.

  Ten minutes later, Sally was still there, hunched up in a big armchair. “Are you all right, child?” Mrs. T-J said, switching off.

  Now or never, Sally thought. No use trying to soften her up. “I’m all right,” she said. “Just feeling a bit sick, but I’m told that’s normal in pregnancy.”

  The silence seemed to go on forever. Finally Mrs. T-J took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “We shall need to have the nursery redecorated,” she said. “When is it due?” She stood up and held out her arms. Sally began to weep, and her aunt folded her to her ample bosom. “There, there,” she said. “It happens from time to time in this family. I thought I’d be the last, what with family planning and so on. But here you are, and here I am with nothing to do except to look after you and the baby. I suppose the father is that rather dreadful Mark something-or-other?”

  “Mark Brown,” snuffled Sally, extracting herself from the lavender-scented embrace. “And I do love him, Auntie.”

  “Of course you do. For now, anyway. Come along, my dear, let’s have a glass of sherry to celebrate. Then we have some arrangements to make.”

  MARK ARRIVED HOME AND PARKED HIS BIKE, BANGING THE SHED door, half hoping his parents would hear him. Maybe his father would come out of the back door looking for him, finally take him by the hand and lead him into the house, sit him down on the sofa beside him and ask him—no, plead with him—to forgive him and together they would begin again. A baby? Wonderful! Just what your mother would love. Don’t worry about the money. We’ve got a bit saved. Time to let us help, son. You can rely on us.

  Pigs might fly. As Mark pushed open the door, he heard his father shouting. He listened, and heard them arguing about who should look after the house while they were away on holiday. “That stupid little runt!” his father bellowed. “Couldn’t look after a rabbit hutch!”

  Mark crept on tiptoe up to his room and sat down on the edge of his bed. He could see nothing beyond a terrible blankness. No help, nowhere to turn. He did not trust Sally. You didn’t trust her sort, if you knew what was good for you. He stretched out on the bed. His heart was beating fast and he was trembling, the old familiar feeling of panic overtaking him. There was one route of escape that he had taken many times. The trusty packet of pills was there in his bedside locker. He sat up, reached for a glass of water and counted out the usual number of calmers. He needed more. This time he needed twice as many. And maybe a few more, to guarantee respite. Only a few left now. Might as well make doubly sure. He lay back, carefully pulling the duvet over his head, and waited for oblivion.

  FORTY-TWO

  GREG WILKINS ARRIVED AT THE DOOR ON TIME. GRAN LET him in, and ushered him into the sitting room, where Lois and Derek were reading separate pages of the local evening paper. They folded them up, and got to their feet. Derek extended his hand, and Greg took it. “Evenin’ ” Derek said. “Sit yerself down.”

  “I’ll make some coffee,” Gran said, and went off to the kitchen.

  “Where are you staying?” Lois said. She had not seen him around in the village, and had heard nobody mention him. In Long Farnden, a stranger who spent longer than a couple of hours was noticed, discussed, and what was known about him generally passed around the network. But neither Gran nor Lois had heard a word about him.

  “In Tresham,” Greg said. “An old friend—widower—living in Sebastopol Street—found me a bed-and-breakfast place around the corner. Quite comfortable, but food is not quite what I’m used to!”

  “I suppose you live on yams and kangaroo,” Derek said. Lois couldn’t tell whether he meant to be offensive, but Greg winced.

  “You said you had something to tell us?” Lois said quickly. “About Rob, was it? Have you seen Josie?”

  He shook his head. “Not since my first call on you. I thought I’d leave you to tell her. It may come as no surprise to her, anyway.”

  “What, then?” Derek was blunt. He had taken a dislike to this chap right from the beginning. He hadn’t much liked Greg’s brother Rob, come to that. Not good enough for his Josie. But, as Lois said, who would be?

  “Well, as you know, I haven’t seen him for a long time. But as a family we are great letter writers, and I was fairly sure I heard from a cousin that he had married a girl from Thailand working in Oz. Years ago, that was. Did he ever mention it? I suppose they must have divorced, or separated or something.”

  Derek was shocked. “O’ course he never bloody well mentioned it!” he said. “D’you think my Josie would’ve had anything to do with a married man? Next thing, you’ll be telling me there were children!”

  Lois said nothing, waiting for Greg to continue, and to her horror she saw him nod. Yes, he said, he had checked with the cousin first to make sure his memory served him correctly, and then was told there were apparently two children. Nobody in the family knew anything about what had happened to them.

  Lois sighed. “Well,” she said, “we shall have to think about this. Maybe it would be best not to tell Josie. She has suffered enough, poor kid. And it’s not going to make any difference to anybody, is it?”

  Greg made a face. “It could,” he said. “You see, apparently Rob had quite a bit of cash. Inherited from some relative on his mother’s side. He must have salted it away somewhere. You didn’t hear of an investment or similar?”

  “No, nor would we have asked,” Derek said. “That was his business, and Josie’s. We’re not ones to pry.”

  “Mm. Well, as Rob and your daughter weren’t married, and Rob had these children, unless there was a will saying otherwise, all his money could go to them.”

  “And I suppose you are intending to be trustee for them?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, Derek,” he said. “But I assure you all I want to do is to make things happen the way my brother would have wanted. I have no idea where these children and their mother might be, but I intend to find them. And to find out what my brother’s intentions were.”

  Derek stood up. “In my opinion, Mr. Wilkins,” he said, “you should leave all of that to Josie. She looked after him, stood by him, put up with his lazy ways, and, I sincerely believe, subsidised him with profits from the shop.”

  Gran came in bearing a tray of coffee.

  “Mr. Wilkins has to go now, Mum,” Derek said. “He won’t have time for coffee.”

  Gran looked at Lois, who sighed and also stood up. “Just a minute, Derek,” she said. “Don’t you think it might be better if we all put
our heads together and found the answers to Greg’s questions? Information shared is always more useful.”

  Derek glared at her. “Up to you, Lois,” he said, “but leave me out of it.” He marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  TEN MINUTES LATER, LOIS AND GREG WERE SITTING IN JOSIE’S flat above the shop. Lois had said that if they were really intending to get to the bottom of Rob’s past life, they must include Josie. After all, she had known him better than any of them, Greg included.

  “We came down here,” Lois said, “because your father won’t have anything to do with it, or at least, with Greg’s part in it. You know what he is.”

  “Yeah, well.” Josie was not too keen either on this so-called brother who had appeared out of nowhere. Rob had never mentioned him. Nor had he ever mentioned Australia. It didn’t make sense, if he had nothing to hide. Now Lois broke the news that would change her mind completely.

  “A wife!?” Josie’s face paled.

  “And two children,” Lois said.

  “I’m sorry, Josie,” Greg said.

  “But how did he manage to get a wife and two children in before he met me? He was really young when we first got together.”

  “Or so he told you,” Lois said. “He could have lied about his age.”

  “Mum! Why are you taking this man’s side against what we know about Rob? He was kind and gentle, and always willing to help. Remember that banner we put up to welcome you back from the lottery presentation? That was Rob’s idea, and he spent days doing it.”

  Lois felt sick at heart. After all Josie had been through, to destroy her memories of her partner—and she was still grieving—was real cruelty. Perhaps Derek was right. On the other hand, if this man was Rob’s brother and everything he said was true, then it would be just as hurtful for Josie to find out later that her parents knew all the time. She could see Josie was near to tears, and said that since none of them knew for certain, not even Greg, who had not seen nor heard from Rob for years, they should make some enquiries. And, of course, Lois knew just the person to help.