by Ann Purser
“There’s a picture, but it’s difficult to see …”
“It’s him, o’ course. William Cox. Read it.”
Lois began to read the fading print. “The headline says, ‘Local Farmer Takes College to Court’. Then it goes on, ‘Young son of the Cox family is accusing St Paul’s College of putting up rent ex … or … bitantly, and intends to take the matter to court’. So it is a rented farm! That’s worth knowing.”
“Give it here, then. Now, you got your answer, so I’ll thank you to put this back, lock the desk, and leave me in peace.”
“Just one more thing, Miss Beasley,” Lois said bravely. “Did the Coxes always give the impression the farm was theirs?”
“Oh yes. Old man Cox, William’s father, said at the time that it was just a small piece of the farm they rented from the college, and the rest was their own. But I’m pretty sure that I remember my father saying otherwise. Now, good morning, Mrs. Meade. You can see yourself out.”
As Lois got into her car, her mobile began to ring. “Hello? What do you want?”
“It’s Cowgill here, Lois. Just keeping in touch. Are you working?”
“Of course.”
“Fine. Keeping clear of those woods and Cox’s Farm?”
“Why? What d’ you know?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that although we’ve had no more reports of badger-baiting, that world attracts some very dodgy characters. Make sure you keep your eyes open. Anyway, anything to report?”
“Only that nothing seems to have been done about very dead animals frightening our residents. Not a sniff of a policeman anywhere.”
“We are well into our investigations, Lois, and if you know anything else relevant to the matter, I’d like you to tell me. I rely on you, you know.”
“Well, I can’t rely on you, can I? Word gets round in villages, you know, and some of the older ones are dreading opening their front doors in the morning.”
“We are almost sure there will be no more of this in Farnden. And I promise you we’ll be there the minute another dead creature is used in a threatening manner.”
“You sound like a policeman.”
“I am a policeman. Goodbye, Lois.”
T
HIRTY-E
IGHT
FLOSS UNLOCKED THE BACK DOOR OF THE HALL AND looked around the kitchen. Everything looked exactly the same, except for a thin layer of dust, which was always there. Mrs. T-J had invested in a new Rayburn cooker, which heated water and radiators as well. Only the cooker was left on, turned down very low. In spite of it being oil fired, it seemed to create dust.
She began to work. As she dusted every surface in the kitchen, she came to an old polished oak table. If this place was hers, she thought, she’d chuck out everything in this kitchen and have it completely redesigned. Slate work-surfaces, those new Shaker-look units, painted a nice light-blue, a wood-block floor … Her thoughts were interrupted. She looked more closely at the oak table. O Lor, now what? There in the dusty surface was a handprint, a large handprint with long, thin fingers. Somebody had been in the kitchen since she was last here.
She told herself it could easily have been when Mrs. T-J returned for a day or two. But her hands were small and ladylike. Well, she could have had some man with her. Her bodyguard, maybe? Floss giggled, and dusted the print away, putting alarming thoughts from her mind.
The chequered floor in the Hall was unmarked. Floss was tempted to flick a dry mop over it and leave it at that. Who would know? Mrs. T-J would. And she would tell Mrs. M, and Floss would be in trouble. She fetched the mop and bucket full of soapy water, and began to clean the black and white tiles. As she approached the wide stairway leading to the upper floor, she looked more closely. So it wasn’t completely clean, after all. On the white tile nearest the stairs, she saw a faint muddy mark, as if from a ridged shoe sole. So the bodyguard didn’t wipe his shoes. Must be someone close to the old dame, who knew he could get away with it.
Floss began to hum a cheerful tune. She wasn’t frightened, but she’d be glad to get through the job and out into the sunshine again. Upstairs in the bathroom, she decided to open a window. There was a musty smell in the house, and a fresh wind blowing through would do a power of good. But she must remember to shut it again. She leaned out and took a deep breath. Mm, that was better. Then she saw him. It was that man, the one from the woods. Her heart thumped so loudly she was sure he must hear her. She backed quickly away from the window, not daring to shut it and make a noise. She heard heavy footsteps on the cobbles outside in the yard, and doors opening and shutting. Then his unpleasant laugh. She shivered. More footsteps, and then silence. After a few minutes, she dared to take a quick look. Nothing there. The yard was empty, except for her own small car, and everything looked exactly the same as before.
She sat down on the bathroom stool and tried to relax. He was gone, so there was nothing more to worry about, was there? She took some deep breaths and began to feel better. Whatever he was up to, he had obviously decided not to come into the house, in spite of her car being very conspicuous. That meant he knew she was here, and his business was not with her.
The rest of the house was cleaned in double-quick time, and Floss locked up the house and got into her car. Then she looked up, and saw the bathroom window was still open. With great reluctance, she went back in and climbed the stairway. She shut the window, and began to make her way along the landing to the stairs. It was a gloomy corridor between bedrooms, and as she approached the head of the stairs, she drew in her breath sharply. A dark shadow had moved across the end of the passage, very swiftly, and almost instantly vanished. Floss had had enough. She rushed down the stairs, two at a time, and jumped the last four. Out in her car, she started the engine and was away down the drive in seconds. What the hell was going on? As she drove into the village, she passed Mrs. M’s house. Maybe it was time she told her all. The night in the woods when she and Ben were threatened. That same man up at the Hall, and the shadow in the corridor.
She turned the car around, and parked outside the Meades’ house. Gran answered the door, and said she was very sorry, but Lois was not at home. “She had a number of calls to make and won’t be back until late. Is there a message?”
“No, it’s OK, Mrs. Weedon. I’ll catch her later. Thanks.”
Gran went back into the kitchen, frowning. The child had not looked well. Very pale. She did hope she was not sickening for something. Lois was pleased wilh Floss’s work, and already counted on her as a reliable member of the team. She shook her head. Probably too many late nights with that boyfriend of hers. Still, youngsters will be youngsters. She was one herself once, a very, very long time ago.
T
HIRTY-N
INE
IT WAS QUITE DARK NOW, AND NO LIGHT CAME IN through the high, barred window in Herbert Everitt’s room. He had feigned sleep when the man came in to settle him for the night. Now there was complete silence. This was broken as the distant church clock struck eleven sonorous strokes. Immediately a series of dots and scrapes came from William Cox. “ARE … YOU … READY.”
Herbert’s heart beat faster. With any luck, this would be the last message he would have to send. “YES.”
He shouldered his makeshift bag—formerly a pillowcase—containing his few pathetic belongings, and went to the door. The lock had turned out to be an old one, and not difficult to pick. Thank God for those skills his old dad had taught him, before he had disappeared from sight for three years. “Guest of His Majesty” his mother used to say, and it had taken him a while to understand what she meant. It had been a terrible disgrace in the family, and he’d never discovered exactly what his father had done.
He tip-toed along to release Cox. This lock was more difficult, but after a few agonizing minutes he managed it.
“Christ!” said the old man, peering out. “It’s outside! Where are we?”
“Never mind,” whispered Herbert. “Close the door quietly, and follow me. Don’t make a s
ound.”
The darkness swallowed them, and silence settled once more.
F
ORTY
LOIS SAT WITH GRAN AND DEREK, ALL OF THEM dozing and waking and saying it was time they went to bed, but nobody made a move. The telephone rang like an alarm bell, and had them all on their feet. Lois got there first, and heard Bill’s voice, high and urgent. “Mrs. M? Thank God. Can you come over? Rebecca’s got pains, and is in a panic. I’ve rung for the doctor, and he’ll be here shortly, they said. But we—Rebecca and me—wondered if you could …”
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there,” said Lois, and after five minutes was on her way to Waltonby.
“Well, I don’t know I’m sure,” Gran said, tidying up her knitting and turning off the television. “Lois is no midwife—mind you, it’s too early for that. We’d best go to bed, Derek. She might be a long time, if that girl needs to hold her hand.”
It was a dark night, and Lois concentrated on her driving. At one point, she pulled up sharply, sure that in front of her there was small dog on the side of the road, white patches showing up in the car lights. But then there was nothing there. Eyes playing tricks, she thought, and no wonder, at this time of night.
Now she remembered that she’d meant to ask Bill why he seemed so fed up. Perhaps Rebecca had had a scare previously? It was just like Bill not to mention it. But this time it sounded serious. Not much she could do, except calm the girl down. Lois expected that the doctor would be there before her, but when she pulled up, there was no car outside the cottage.
Bill must have been watching from the window, and stood at the open door as she came up the path. “Thanks so much, Mrs. M,” he said. “She’s just drifted off to sleep, and the doctor is coming as soon as he can.” He hesitated, and then said, “I know I ought to be used to all this, what with calving and lambing an’ that, but … well, I’m scared, Mrs. M.”
“Well, that’s no help, is it?” said Lois briskly. “Now, when’s it due?”
“Not for a few weeks yet.”
“Right, well, has she lost any blood?”
Bill shook his head. “Just the contractions,” he said. “But poor old Becky, she says they’re strong.”
“Mm,” said Lois, trying to sound wise. It was such a long time since she had given birth, she had forgotten all the details. In any case, she reckoned crafty Mother Nature erased memories of most of it, especially the painful part, so women cheerfully got on with the next one. But now, looking at Bill’s anxious face, she thought that the best she could do would be to prop him up until the doctor arrived.
“Contractions do come and go, as I’m sure you know,” she said. “More of a practice for the real thing. Come on, let’s put the kettle on and talk about something else until Rebecca wakes up.”
Bill followed her obediently into the kitchen, and they talked in whispers, until suddenly a small voice called out, “Bill! Where are you?”
“Come on!” he said urgently, and ran up the narrow cottage stairs. Lois followed as calmly as she could, and was amazed to see Rebecca sitting on the bed, smiling at her.
“I thought I heard your voice, Mrs. M,” she said. “What are you doing here at this time of night? No, don’t tell me, let me guess. This dear chap rang you?” Lois nodded, and Bill sat beside Rebecca and held her hand. “It’s fine now,” she said reassuringly. “No more contractions.”
Just then the doorbell rang, and Rebecca stared at Bill. “Who else?” she said.
“The doc, of course,” he said, and went downstairs.
“WHERE THE HELL ARE WE?” WILLIAM COX LEANED against a tree trunk, panting. “Can we rest for a minute?”
“Better keep going if you can,” Herbert said. His perambulations around the cell-like room had strengthened his muscles, and he was altogether in much better shape than William. “Here, give me your bag. You’ll do better without it.” He shouldered the two pillowcases and they both trudged on.
“Why can’t we just go home?”
“Use your loaf, William.” Herbert had the heady feeling of a liberated man. “They’re not going to let us go home and tell all to the police. That was no hospital or clinic. We were imprisoned. A crafty job, admittedly, and they had me fooled. Until I stopped taking the pills. You too, don’t forget. No, they’ll be after us, and I hate to think what they’ll do if they get us. We’ll go into hiding for as long as possible, and hope the police are on to them already. After all, it’s some time since we went missing. Come on, old lad, we’re nearly there!”
They were not nearly there, but Herbert knew that it was vital to keep William on the move. With any luck, he and William would have until breakfast-time. His brain was whirling, trying to sort out what it all meant. And who were they? He had stepped straight out of his room into the pitch-black night. But things around him had seemed familiar, and if his guess was accurate, he was taking William to the only safe place he could think of. It was near enough to get there, and probably the last place they would look. In any case, it was all he could think of at the moment, and he plodded on, praying he would be able to get in when they found it.
* * *
“YOU’RE SOON BACK,” DEREK SAID, AS LOIS CAME IN and flopped down into a chair.
“False alarm,” she said. “Poor old Bill. She’s a bit of a silly girl. You’d think a schoolteacher would know better.”
“Dunno,” Derek said. “I do seem to remember a certain person who had me out three times taking her to the hospital before Douglas was born.”
“That’s because he was my first,” protested Lois. “I was much calmer with the other two.”
“Well, it’s Rebecca’s first, isn’t it? Anyway, time for bed. Gran’s gone up, so we might as well follow.”
“Yeah,” Lois said, not moving. “Come an’ give us a cuddle first.”
Derek looked at her properly, and saw her pale face and clenched hands. “Right,” he said. “I see you need a thera-what’s-it spot of lovin’. Come on, me duck, let’s be having you.”
Before she fell asleep, Lois stirred in Derek’s arms and kissed his check. “Derek,” she whispered.
He groaned. “In the morning, me duck,” he said, half asleep.
“No, wake up a minute! I want to tell you something important.”
Derek sighed. “Go on, then.”
Lois said, “You remember Herbert Everitt’s little dog?”
“Oh God, is that important? Of course I remember his dog.”
“Well, I think I saw it tonight. It’s a terrier, isn’t it. And I used to think what a nice one it was. Longer legs than usual. I’m sure I recognized it. But when I got up to where it was, it had gone … Derek? Are you listening to me?” His answer was a light snore.
F
ORTY-O
NE
“NO MOON TONIGHT,” DEREK SAID, HANDING A CUP of tea to Lois.
She sat up in bed and said, “So? We’re not planning on a midnight picnic, are we?”
“Might be romantic for a walk in the woods y’know, listening for nightingales an’ that. Take Jeems if you like.”
Lois stared at him. “What’s up with you, Derek? Are you feelin’ all right?”
He nodded, and smiled. “We could take Gran, if you’d like a chaperone.”
Lois slid out of bed. “No, not Gran, nor Jeems, nor me. It’s that quiz on the telly tonight, and I’m not missing the final. If you want to go for a walk in the pitch dark, you can go by yourself.”
“I might just do that,” said Derek, and moved swiftly into the bathroom before she could get there.
A SECRET INQUISITION HAD BEEN SET UP, AND IN THE back room of William Cox’s house, Nelson, Nelly for short, and his mate Shorty—the tall, thin one—faced a furious Reg Abthorpe. He had been told of the missing men, and his angry face had suffused with blood, but now it was an unhealthy grey and his eyes were chips of ice.
He spoke quietly at first. “Shorty,” he said, almost whispering, “you are supposed to be the br
ains. Tell me exactly what you found.”
“Hey, wait a minute …” protested Nelly.
Reg turned and froze him in mid-sentence. “Shut up!” he barked, and Nelly subsided, shaking.
“Go on,” Reg whispered to Shorty, who was also trembling in fear. They knew Reg had a quick temper, but they’d never seen him like this before. “Well, we went to take them their early morning tea and pill, as usual, and found the birds had f-f-f-flown.”
“Flown?” hissed Reg. “F-f-f-flown? What d’ you think this is? A bloody Open University poetry course?” He got to his feet and stood over the pair of them, and now he had a gun in his hand. “You two will find those doddery old men within the next hour, or I shall be behind you with this.” He waved the gun at them, causing them to duck down, accidentally banging their heads together. Reg laughed, a mirthless laugh which was gone in seconds.
“W-w-w-where shall we look, boss?” Shorty rubbed his head and shrank away from the waving gun.
“How the hell should I know? You’ll have to use whatever limited intelligence you can muster between you. But be back here within the hour … and I want those old buggers alive, so none of your usual tricks. Now, sod off.”
Nelly took a deep breath, and risked his life. “Boss, can I ask you something?”
“Oh, for God’s sake—what?”
“Supposing the agents bring somebody to look at this house? Wouldn’t we be better taking them to the usual …”
“What agents?” said Reg angrily. “Just mind your own bloody business and get on with it. You don’t need a bloodhound to find two old men in their eighties,”
Shorty and Nelly backed out of the room, and then ran. When they were safely away from the waving gun, they stopped. “Which way, then?” said Nelly.