Secrets on Saturday

by Ann Purser

  Secrets: Floss and Ben were hiding whatever had happened that night in the woods. Ellen Biggs was not revealing all she knew about William Cox, Lois was sure. Ivy Beasley probably doing the same thing. Frances Wallis hiding everything, but quite definitely connected with Reg Abthorpe in some way. Her brutish husband, too.

  So what to tell Cowgill to convince him? Hard evidence was what he wanted. Lois reviewed what she had just listed in her mind. Ben and Floss were the most likely to be harbouring something useful. If she could get either of them to tell her exactly what had happened to frighten them into silence, she had a hunch things would get moving with Cowgill. She got up from the tree stump, and walked on. Right, next step was to talk to the youngsters. Separately, would be best. Maybe starting with Floss. Perhaps she’d arrange to call in at the Hall when Floss was working there. She could easily think of a convincing pretext.

  “Good girl,” she said absently, as Jeems squatted on the grass. Lois fumbled in her pocket for a scented pink nappy sack and concentrated on the job in hand.

  F

  ORTY-T

  HREE

  NOW THAT SPOT WAS RESTORED TO HIM, HERBERT Everitt was a different man. Optimism oozed from every pore, and curmudgeonly old William’s depression didn’t bother him in the least. He had searched the entire house and discovered a number of useful things, including an ancient paraffin stove nearly full of fuel. During the day he opened all the windows to air the place, leaving Spot tied up outside to act as lookout. He found an undamaged blanket for William to drape around his shoulders to keep warm. In the early evening, he lit the paraffin stove and put it in the living room. “Quite cosy?” he said to William.

  “Stinks,” was the reply.

  But Herbert could see that William was trying hard, and so they reached a kind of truce. When William found a stash of tins of food in a cupboard high above the sink, he actually laughed, and the two worked out carefully how long this would last them. They reckoned they could exist on iron rations for a week or ten days. By then, Herbert insisted, someone would come and rescue them.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Bert?” William said, as they sat at the rickety table drinking perfectly good pea soup.

  “Always been my favourite, pea soup,” Herbert replied. He had given up demanding William call him by his full name. Anyway, now he was getting used to it, Bert seemed more friendly.

  “No, no … I meant enjoying all of it. It’s all one big adventure to you. The Terrible Two go hiding in the thicket. Find a stash of food, and manage to keep going until Uncle and Auntie find them and take them home.”

  Herbert looked at him. “That’s good, Bill,” he said. “Very clever. But Uncle and Auntie are more likely to be Reg and his henchmen, so we’d better make a plan for what we’ll do if they turn up before help comes.”

  He cleared the dishes, and put a damp notebook on the table. The pencil William had found on the floor in the small bedroom still worked. “Now,” Herbert said. “First of all …”

  “I said you were enjoying it,” grumbled William, but he sat up straight and listened to what Herbert had to say.

  At this point, Spot barked ferociously outside. “Hide!” said Herbert. “I’ll take a look.” He crept round to the window, keeping out of sight, and peered out. Spot was straining at his rope lead, and aiming his warning at a thick thorn bush very close to the back door. Herbert continued to watch. Then he thought he saw a shadow move and disappear. Spot stopped barking after a minute, and Herbert went back to William. “You can come out now,” he said, and William crawled from under the table. “We’re unlikely to be bombed,” Herbert said with a smile.

  “What was it, then?”

  “A rabbit, probably,” Herbert replied. “No sign of human beings of any sort. “Right,” he continued, “let’s get on with the plan.”

  GRAN WAS IN A BETTER MOOD WHEN LOIS RETURNED home. She’d had a visit from Mrs. Pickering and they’d obviously enjoyed one another’s company. “What did she come for?” said Lois, antennae waving.

  “It was all to do with WI, and nothing to do with New Brooms,” Gran said firmly. “Mrs. Pickering and me have agreed to do teas next month at the group meeting.”

  “Did she say anything about Floss?” Lois said casually.

  Gran frowned at her. “Only that she really loved working for you, if that’s what you want to hear.”

  “Well, it’s nice to know, Mum. I like my team to be happy.”

  They moved on to the subject of whether Jeems had had her feet wiped after running about in those muddy fields. While Lois was obediently drying a wriggling dog, Gran said, “Oh, there was something that might interest you. Apparently Floss and Ben are getting engaged. Well, talking about it, anyway. Floss’s parents are insisting that they wait at least two years before even thinking about getting married, but otherwise they’ve given their blessing.”

  “Floss hasn’t said anything to me!” Lois felt quite hurt that Gran had known first.

  “Maybe that’s because you’re so busy with other things,” her mother answered. “Anyway, I should congratulate her as soon as possible, if I were you. Apparently they’re talking about moving away soon, somewhere where Ben can get a proper job.”

  This bombshell galvanized Lois into action. She dialled Floss’s mobile and waited. “Hello? Mrs. M here. Are you still at Mrs. T-J’s?” Floss replied that yes, she would be there for a while, having found a message on the table that the mistress would be back soon and would like everywhere spick and span. The gardener, apparently, had a key and had left the message, together with muddy footprints and finger marks everywhere.

  “I’ll be over in ten minutes,” Lois said. “Look out for me. No, nothing wrong, I just want to have a word. See you.”

  Lois was there in fifteen minutes. She sounded her horn to attract Floss’s attention and went to the back door. “Thanks. Better lock it behind me,” Lois said, walking into the kitchen. “Shall we go and sit in the drawing room? The sun shines in there in the afternoons, and we’ve got something pleasant to talk about, haven’t we?”

  Floss led the way, and they settled into comfortable chairs. Floss grinned broadly, and said, “I bet I know who told you. It was your mum, wasn’t it. My mum told yours, and the cat was out of the bag. I was looking forward to telling you myself, but never mind.”

  “Go on, then, tell me,” Lois said. “It’d be nice to hear it straight from you.”

  “Well, Ben and I are engaged. We haven’t got a ring yet. We’re going to look for one next Saturday. Can’t be a diamond or anything expensive! Ben’s not got much money yet, but one day he will have. Mum and Dad have agreed, and Ben’s folks say they’re delighted, though I’m not so sure about his mum.”

  “Mothers and sons,” said Lois enigmatically. “Always difficult.”

  “So there we are, Mrs. M. I wish I could have told you first, but I hope you approve.”

  Lois stood up, walked over to Floss, and gave her a big hug. “Congratulations!” she said. “Nothing could be nicer. You’ll be the first romance we’ve had in the New Brooms team. Will you be able to tell the rest on Monday?”

  “Oh, yeah. Looking forward to it. I expect we’ll get teased a bit, but they’re a nice lot and I’m fond of them. Even Bill! Ben’s a good friend of his now, so no jealousy there!”

  “Bill and Ben, the Flowerpot Men,” said Lois, and Floss looked puzzled. Not worth explaining, thought Lois, and said, “Come on, then, now I’m here I’ll give you a hand. What’s left to do?”

  “Landings and stairs,” Floss said. “I’ll finish the kitchen. Thanks a lot.”

  Lois lugged the heavy old Hoover up the stairs and began cleaning the landings. The carpet was threadbare here and there, and she had to stop and disentangle bits of thread from the machine. When she straightened up, a shaft of sunlight had appeared through the window at the end of the corridor. She blinked. It couldn’t have been!

  “Floss!” she called.

  �
�Yes?” The girl’s voice came from downstairs.

  Lois yelled back, “Nothing. Thought I heard you shout.” She’d heard nothing, but had seen something. The swiftly crossing figure of a man, emerging from one door and disappearing into another, had passed through the sunlight. It was a familiar figure, and Lois’s heart sank to her boots.

  Should she go and look, or leave well alone? She had no desire to meet Reg Abthorpe again, particularly as she was on her own with not even a small dog to defend her. But … She grasped the Hoover, and with the motor running, pushed it to the end of the corridor. Leaving it switched on, she tried the handles of both doors in turn. Both were locked. How had he …? Unwilling to consider the possibility of a ghost, Lois went back to the stairs and quickly finished her cleaning.

  “All done, then,” Floss said, and the two walked towards their cars.

  Lois asked, “Ever seen anything in this place? Are there any stories of ghosts?”

  Floss laughed. “Oh God, yes. I think I saw one myself once. Looked like a man flitting across the corridor upstairs. Saw him outlined against that window at the end. But he didn’t stop to talk. Shame, really. Anyway, thanks for coming over and being so nice. Cheers, Mrs. M.”

  For a while after Floss had driven off, Lois sat in her car and thought. It was no ghost, she was sure. Was this a clue to where Reg Abthorpe was holed up? But surely Mrs. T-J wouldn’t … wasn’t … no, of course she wasn’t. Lois drove off, narrowly missing a cock pheasant too tame to get out of the way.

  F

  ORTY-F

  OUR

  FRANCES WALLIS STOOD BEHIND HER NET CURTAINS, keeping lookout in Blackberry Gardens. She had switched off all the lights in the house, as instructed. Reg should be back soon, and then she could draw the curtains, put on the lights, and let some normality back into her dark and dismal home. If only she could get out of this village, this country, even, and begin to live a quiet, unbothered life. Alone. She wouldn’t care if she never saw her husband again, or Reg, come to that. It wasn’t as if Reg was her real brother. He’d traced her after a long search, and broken the news that they both had the same father, but different mothers. “Spread it around, he did,” Reg had said with a laugh. “I reckon I take after my mum. I don’t know about you?”

  “Not sure,” Frances had said, carefully not telling him the identity of her mother, which he clearly wanted to know. Reg had stayed in touch, become very friendly with her husband, and then suggested they should work together at his little schemes. He said he’d found a really nice house for them in a lovely village. It had turned out to be this village, of all villages. Reg could be nice as pie, and then change in seconds to a cruel, unprincipled crook. If he took after his mother, then Frances hoped she would never meet her. He scarcely ever spoke of her, but when he did, it was with contempt and bitterness.

  Now the back door slammed shut. Frances turned and heard Reg shout, “I’m back. Where’s supper?”

  Frances remembered the times when Reg’s visits had concerned just foxes and badgers, baiting and fighting. But all that seemed to have stopped. Those horrible terriers hadn’t been out for ages. They were bred for the job, and were difficult to control. Reg had been in court for badger-baiting once, and was forbidden to keep dogs. So he’d parked them on Frances, who kept them tied up most of the time. When they were freed and taken out by Reg, they went mad.

  “Help me draw the curtains,” she answered, and the two went round the house drawing all the curtains before switching on subdued lighting. “How much longer is all this going to take?” Frances said. “I’m fed up with living like a recluse.”

  “Like to join the Women’s Institute, would you? Sing in the church choir?” Reg’s smile was without warmth.

  Frances shivered. “Well, as a matter of fact, yes, I would. But there’s no chance as long as you and those villains of yours are creeping about.”

  “And what would hubby say? Have you mentioned it to him, maybe suggested he should join the Whist Club? I can guess what he would say. Would you like me to mention it to him?”

  Frances looked at him with hatred. “Don’t you dare!” she said. “Mind your own bloody business for once. And get going out of here as soon as bloody well possible!”

  “Language!” Reg mocked. “I’ll go as soon as I’m ready, sister dear, and not before,” he said, and went upstairs whistling.

  * * *

  DEREK HAD RELUCTANTLY AGREED TO LOIS MEETING Cowgill at the shop. “Only very occasionally, Lois,” he’d cautioned. “It’s bad enough you doing this ferreting, but I’m not having our Josie involved. Is that clear?” Lois had nodded, and consulted Josie. Her partner had not seemed to care much, apart from suggesting in jest that they charged rent to the cops. Josie had said what a good idea, and that it would stop Cowgill turning up at all hours. “Of course, I’ll warn you when he’s coming,” Lois had said. “It won’t be often, I can promise you that!”

  She wondered if it would be worth arranging a meeting straight away, but she had nothing more in the way of hard evidence to persuade him to take the disappearance of the old men more seriously … except her encounter at the farmhouse with Reg and his trusty helpers. She was reluctant to tell him about that, as she hadn’t come out of it very well, especially having to be rescued by Derek. Still, no ordinary estate agent, let alone a posse of villains, would have chased her through the woods if the offer to show her the house had been genuine.

  She went into her office and dialled Cowgill’s private number. He had given her permission to use it, and sometimes in the evenings he sat in his lonely sitting room, bored with television, willing the phone to ring. So far, it had never been Lois at the other end.

  “Hello? It’s me.”

  “Evening, Lois. How are you?”

  “Fine. I’ll make this short and sweet. I’ve fixed a new place for us to meet.” She told him about the shop, and he said facetiously that he was glad she would have her daughter as chaperone upstairs. “Now listen,” said Lois, irritated. “One foot put wrong, and you’re out on your ear.”

  Cowgill reflected that nobody ever spoke to him like that any more, and how grateful he was to have Lois. Well, in a manner of speaking. “So name the day,” he said.

  “I’m warning you!” Lois said. “I can be there in the room at the back of the shop tomorrow at six o’clock. And don’t be early, otherwise Josie won’t have closed up.” She continued with instructions as to how he should arrive, and told him to park his car the other side of the village. “Leave it by the disused gravel pits,” she said. “Nobody ever goes there, since a child drowned a few years ago. There’s an old footpath from there.”

  “Right. Any further orders, Mrs. Meade?”

  “Be your age, for goodness sake. I don’t know which is worse—Cowgill the professional cop, or Cowgill the joker. No, there’s nothing else.”

  “How about Cowgill the serious policeman, with a soft spot for one of his informers?”

  “Not him, definitely. I’m going now. See you tomorrow.”

  IN THE HOUSE IN THE THICKET, HERBERT EVERITT had found some mouldering books on a bedroom shelf, and had carried a few downstairs to see if there was anything interesting in them. “What’ve you got there, Bert?” Cox was dozing in a chair that Herbert had contrived to make more comfortable, with old blankets and a cushion or two he had dried out by the oil stove.

  “Old books. They smell a bit. Gone mouldy, some of ‘em. Still, here, take a look. There might be something interesting.” Herbert handed over a small pile, and William took one and opened it.

  “On The Road” he read, “by somebody called Jack Kerouac. Blimey, how do you pronounce that?” He read halfway down the first page and then shut it with a cloud of white dust. “Not my kind o’ book,” he said. “Nor yours either, I reckon, Bert.”

  Herbert opened another one, and said, “Here, this looks more like it. It’s a book about wild animals.”

  “Afraid I couldn’t care less about lions and tig
ers,” William answered.

  “Not those kind of wild animals. It’s all in this country—rabbits and mice and voles and squirrels. All that.”

  William brightened. “Has it got badgers in it?” he said.

  “Don’t talk to me about badgers,” Herbert said. “Badgers are responsible for me being in this mess.”

  “Not the badgers’ fault, was it? Wasn’t it your Spot led you into the woods, so you saw them crooks at the baiting?” Herbert had to admit that this was the case. He gave the book to William, who immediately looked up badgers and became totally absorbed.

  The other books were mostly American novels, and Herbert was not interested. Then he found a thriller, set in Scotland, and put it to one side. “That’ll do me,” he said. “Take my mind off survival for an hour or two.”

  William looked at him for a few seconds, and then said, “I’ve been thinking, Bert.”

  “Always a dangerous occupation.” Herbert grinned.

  “No, seriously,” William continued. “I’ve been thinking that we could walk out of here and go home, and once we’d told the police we’d not have to be afraid any longer. Doesn’t that make sense?”

  Herbert’s smile faded. He sighed. “You could be right, Bill,” he said. “It might work. But there’s something I was keeping to myself. All the time we’ve been here, I felt we were being watched. Twice I’ve seen the shadow of a man disappearing back into the thicket. Spot barks furiously every time, and I suppose that lets him know we’re still here.”

  William got painfully to his feet. “Why the hell didn’t you call to him? It might have been someone looking for us, coming to rescue us! Oh God, why didn’t you yell at him?” He sat down again and covered his face with his hands.

  “Don’t take on,” Herbert said, and awkwardly patted William on the shoulder. “I didn’t call to the man, because I recognized him. It was that Reg. The boss man. He has somehow found out where we are, and is keeping an eye on us. I dare say it suits him to have us holed up here. Costs him nothing, and keeps us out of the way until he finishes whatever wicked scheme he’s got going.”