by Ann Purser
Oh my God, thought Lois. He has all the answers. Shall I just turn him over to Cowgill and wash my hands of him? No, she couldn’t do that, though she would hate to have to defend her decision to Derek.
“So what do I need to know to stop that happening?” she said.
“You, Mrs M?” said Gary desperately. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s all grinding on like some giant steamroller. I reckon I might be next in its path…” At that, he began to tremble, and stood up, looking wildly round him. “Sorry…” he said, and then his knees buckled and he fell quite neatly to the floor.
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Thirty-Six
Between them, Lois and Gran brought Gary round and got him stretched out on the sofa in the sitting room. Gran fussed around with cups of sweet tea and cushions, and Lois sat on a chair and looked at Gary closely. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get a doctor?” she said. “Have you done this before?”
Gary nodded. “Ever since I was a kid,” he said, but Lois suspected he was lying. She would give him another ten minutes, leave him by himself, and then make the decision. “It’s something to do with circulation,” Gary added casually. He made a brave attempt at a smile. “Sorry, Mrs M,” he said. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine.”
“But not fine enough to drive home,” said Lois firmly. “I’m going in to see Derek, and I’ll give you a lift. You can leave your car here, and we’ll arrange something for tomorrow. Sheila can pick you up on the way to the surgery, if you’re OK, and then drop you off here to collect your car after work.”
“No, I’ll be able to drive back. I always recover quickly…” He tailed off when he saw Lois’s expression. “Well, OK then, I’ll come with you and do as you say. You’re the boss,” he added wryly, and Lois reflected that he was the kind of idiot who spends his whole life being ordered about by women…Joanne Murphy included.
It was as Gary had said. Half an hour later he seemed perfectly restored, and happily helped Gran in the kitchen until Lois was ready to go. “What a nice young man!” Gran whispered as Lois got her things together. “Just needs a bit of looking after, if you ask me.”
Lois said nothing. She felt far from motherly towards Gary, but for the moment had decided to let things continue as usual.
One question remained unanswered. What exactly was his relationship with Hazel? In a way, it was none of her business, especially if they’d just had a fling and were still friends. But if the connection between them was part of the network of illegal activity at the theatre and beyond, then she needed to know. Hazel was working for Cowgill, certainly, but the girl wouldn’t be the first to sit on both sides of the fence. Double agent, thought Lois, and grinned. Blimey, that was going it a bit.
“Cheerio, Mum,” she said. “Shouldn’t be late back. And bringing good news, I hope.” She kissed her mother on the cheek, and was unexpectedly hugged tight.
“Look after yourself,” Gran said. “And don’t forget to say goodbye to the kids. They’re in the garden.”
Lois and Gary drove into Tresham in silence. He reminded her of the way to his house, and when she stopped outside his gate he did not get out immediately. Instead, he turned and looked at her. “Thanks, Mrs M,” he said. “Sorry about all that. And don’t forget, I work for you and I like your set-up. And,” he added, opening the car door, “I’m not such a shit as you think I am.” He was running up the drive before she could answer.
♦
As Lois walked down the corridors, now only too familiar, she did a rapid sift through Gary’s jobs, just in case he was not up to scratch tomorrow. New Brooms now had a full schedule of clients, and she had begun to consider taking on another couple of cleaners. New enquiries came in every day, and she had had to turn one or two down last week.
“Hello, gel,” said Derek, and got up from the chair by the window to greet her.
“Oh, Derek!” she said, and dropped bags and magazines on the floor to give him the best kiss she could manage without touching his bruises and bandages. “Look at you!” she said. “On your feet and back to normal!”
“Well, not quite,” said the nurse coming in behind Lois and smiling at the pair. “But he is doing very well, Mrs Meade,” she added. “The doctor wants a word with you before you go. He’ll be round shortly, and I know you’ll be pleased with his report.”
“Does that mean…?” Lois asked tentatively, but the nurse shook her head. “Wait for Doctor,” she said. “He won’t be long.”
When she’d gone, Lois asked Derek if that meant he could come home.
He nodded. “If you can stand it,” he said. “Shan’t be able to do much for a while, and I expect I’ll get under your feet. But Gran’ll still be there, won’t she?”
“Derek Meade!” said Lois, so loudly that a nurse put her head round the door enquiringly.
“All well?” she said. Lois said yes, thank you, everything was perfectly fine. She turned back to Derek. “Now listen to me, young man,” she said. “The minute they say you can come home, that is my first priority. And that goes for the rest of us, as well. Gran is staying indefinitely, it seems, and the kids will be over the moon. Between us, we’ll look after you so well you’ll never want to go to work again.”
He took her hands. “I love you, you know, Lois,” he said. “I love you all, but you best. You were my first love, gel.”
“And I’d better be your last, too,” Lois answered in a choked voice. “Come on, you great softie, let’s look in this bag and see what goodies Gran has sent.”
When the doctor came, he talked seriously to them both, and confirmed that if Derek took it very easy, and the family could manage, he’d complete his recovery much more quickly at home. “We’ll arrange nurses to change dressings and you’ll have to come back to the clinic a couple of times,” he said. “But if all’s well with you, Mrs Meade, Derek can come home tomorrow.”
♦
When Lois returned home, there was a message on her office answerphone that gave a momentary shock. She played it again. It was from Brown’s, the estate agents in Tresham. “Hello, New Brooms,” a bright voice said. “Can you give me a ring? We’ve got a house going on the market, needs a really good clean and tidy-up. It’s in Waltonby, and been empty for a while. Used to belong to Major Todd-Nelson – p’rhaps you saw the story about him? Anyway, we’d be glad to hear from you as soon as possible…Brown’s of Tresham…” and she added the telephone number too fast for Lois to write it down.
She sat and thought for a few minutes, wondering why they’d asked her, when they must have regular people they used for this job all the time. Could Cowgill have had something to do with it? Or Hazel? She knew a great many young people in Tresham, and the agents’ girl had sounded young.
Or it could be, she told herself, that our reputation for doing a good job has spread far and wide, and there’s nothing more sinister to it than that.
She played the message again, wrote down the telephone number, and dialled it.
“Yes, we’d be glad to help,” she said to the girl. “I’ll come in tomorrow morning, and we can sort out the paperwork. Yes, we can do it straight away,” she added, and knew that somehow or other she would have to make time to do it herself. Then she remembered Derek coming home, and closed her eyes against the impossibility of fitting it all in.
“You asleep?” said Josie, coming in quietly. Lois opened her eyes. She looked at her daughter, tall and strong, capable and with nothing to do in the school holidays, and saw an answer. “No,” she said. “Just resting my eyes. Now, Josie, I want a word, so sit down over there and listen.”
Josie looked apprehensive. What had she done now? But then her mother began to talk, suggesting that if Josie liked the idea, she could help her in New Brooms until she went back to school.
“Hey, Mum, that’s a great idea!” Josie’s face was flushed with pleasure. She loved Gran, but was sick of cooking and washing-up. There was nothing to do in Long Farnden, and no mea
ns of getting into Tresham unless someone gave her lift. At least this would be getting around with Mum, and seeing some new people.
“We’ll have to check with Dad,” said Lois.
“Oh, he’ll agree,” said Josie confidently. “He’s always telling me to get out and earn a crust or two.”
“Ah, yes, well, it’ll just be pocket money, I’m afraid,” said Lois. “Rules and regs and all that. But I’ll make it worth your while. And just one thing,” she added.
Josie lifted her eyebrows. “Yes, boss?” she said cheekily. “You’ll have to do as you’re told. Without arguing. Have to pretend I’m not your mum.”
“Fine,” said Josie, “that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Thirty-Seven
Lois awoke to the sound of heavy rain beating against the window, and pulled the covers over her head. Early summer, and the usual reverse of flaming June. The day ahead loomed over Lois, with the excitement of Derek’s return a beacon in the gloom. She would need all her wits about her for the estate agents, who were said to pay peanuts. And then there’d be the unknown quantity of Josie doing a good cleaning job. She did precious little about the house, and Lois supposed that was her own fault. Gran had tried to teach her some domesticity, but it was a very reluctant Josie to be found standing at the ironing board. Still, the lure of money might make a difference.
The sound of the milk van chugging outside while deliveries were made up and down the street brought Lois out of a half-doze. Why couldn’t he park outside somebody else’s house? And half the time his milk went sour before they’d finished it. She had a good mind to get milk from the supermarket, but felt a grudging loyalty to a village service that some of the old people relied on. Oh, well, might as well get up. She slid out of bed and went to the window. The van had moved on, and the street was empty and grey, the rain slanting steadily across sodden gardens, and splashing into deep puddles punctuating the narrow High Street. Maybe we should have stayed in Tresham, Lois thought. Then I wouldn’t have got mixed up with all this major business, and Derek wouldn’t have had his accident. But then, looking at it straight, we’d still be crammed into a small council house, with the kids fighting for their private space and Derek losing his temper every ten minutes. And I wouldn’t have started New Brooms, and I’d still be a skivvy at everyone’s beck and call.
“Lois?” The door had opened quietly, and Gran stood there. “You all right, dear? I heard you moving about and it seemed very early…”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Just woke up early. The rain, I think. Might as well go down and make a cup of tea. D’you want one?”
Gran nodded, and said she’d come down too, and make a start on breakfast. “With Josie joining the work force, she’ll need something nourishing inside her,” she said firmly. She had given up trying to stoke up Lois with bacon and eggs. A piece of toast and cup of coffee was the most that she would have. Still, Derek would be back today, and Gran began planning happily all the appetising dishes she would make for him.
At eight o’clock, Gary was on the telephone, assuring Lois that he was perfectly restored and intending to work as usual. “They’ve got a new doctor at the surgery,” he said, “and Sheila and I have to give the old chap’s room an extra going over. And no, Mrs M, before you say anything, I am not intending to read any of the papers or lift any bottles or jars of substances when nobody’s looking.” He laughed a little, but Lois could tell he was deadly serious. Gary had had a fright, possibly several frights, and he seemed especially anxious to convince Lois of his respectability.
“Well, if you’re sure,” said Lois. “And anyway,” she added lightly, “you’ll be in the right place if you keel over again.”
As a safety measure, she quickly telephoned Sheila, told her what had happened to Gary, and asked her to keep an eye on him. “Will do,” said Sheila, “just on my way now. If anything goes wrong, I’ll report back.”
Josie had finished breakfast and was ready to go well before time. To Lois, she looked impossibly young to be cleaning at Dalling Hall, making beds, piling up sheets, emptying bins, sorting out disgusting bathrooms that a pig would have left in a better state. But this was just a try out, she comforted herself. Derek still had to agree to the plan, and it would be useful for them to have some idea of how Josie would shape up. She was fifteen, after all, and some girls were mothers at that age. Lois shivered. Prue Betts might have been a young mother if her own parents had been different, but the idea of Mr Betts tolerating a steadily ballooning daughter in the house without husband or support, was unimaginable.
“Come on, Mum, we’ll be late!” Josie stood by the car, waiting to be let in.
“It’s not locked,” said Lois.
“It won’t lock, you mean,” said Josie, settling in the passenger seat. “Why don’t you get yourself a decent car?”
“Because you lot take all my profits and more beside,” answered Lois equably. “I don’t care, anyway,” she added, “I like to help Dad with paying for Jamie’s bike, and Douglas’s football coaching.”
“And my ballet classes,” contributed Josie, and they both chuckled. The classes had been held round the corner on the Churchill Estate and Josie had attended as a plump six-year-old. In a rickety wooden hut that had seen better days as a Nonconformist chapel, an enthusiastic spinster, ballerina manque, held classes for the local children. She claimed to bring out grace and elegance in any child, but even she had to admit that Josie was never going to make it, except perhaps as a baby elephant in the end of term show. One term had been enough, and then any ambitions mother and daughter had entertained were forgotten.
“I liked the swimming, though,” said Josie, anxious to please. “We take it all for granted, don’t we,” she added, looking at Lois’s smiling face.
“Course you do. It’s natural. All kids do. When you’re a mum, you’ll do just the same for your kids, and they’ll be ungrateful as hell, just the same.”
Hazel had arrived at the hall, and was gathering equipment in the cleaning cupboard. “Hi, Josie!” she said, surprised. “You gonna help?” Lois thought it would be better to attach Josie to Hazel, rather than herself. She knew Hazel was tough enough to make sure Josie worked properly.
“It’s just a trial,” she said to Hazel, “so I want you to treat her like any new girl we might sign on.” And to Josie she said, “Now you do what Hazel tells you. She’s an expert, and you’re a raw recruit. No slacking, mind, and Hazel can give me a report at the end of the morning.”
Lois deliberately organized the work so that she was at the other end of the hall, and did not see the others until they met in the cleaning cupboard for coffee.
“She’s doing OK,” said Hazel.
“Honest?” said Lois.
“Honest,” said Hazel. “You know I always tell the truth.” Josie nibbled a biscuit and looked at Hazel with admiring eyes. A spot of hero worship developing there, thought Lois, and hoped this was a good thing. She was not at all sure that Hazel did always tell the truth.
♦
Brown’s of Tresham had been established for fifty years, and was regarded by most as the best estate agents in town. Their offices were in the main square, and, in a manner that suited their prestigious reputation, their windows contained a small selection of pleasant town houses and expensive country mansions. Inside, they were astute enough to have a wide selection of properties, including unattractive – but at bargain prices – small houses such as the major’s. The turnover in these was rapid, as newly-weds moved on to greater things, and elderly couples were encouraged by their families into retirement homes on their inexorable way out. The major’s exit, of course, had been precipitous and unexpected.
“I’m afraid it is in a bit of a state,” said the girl apologetically to Lois. “He went out that day, not knowing he wouldn’t come back,” she giggled. Lois did not smile. It was true that this stupid girl had no idea of all the ramifications of the major�
�s death. But even so, a sudden death, a murder, was not a laughing matter.
“We’re used to that,” she replied. “Not that we come across such tragedies very often, thank goodness.”
The girl took the hint from Lois’s serious face, and sobered up. “Quite right, Mrs Meade,” she said. “Poor man. Never got the person who did it, did they? And then there was that other chap – found in the wood. Honestly, it isn’t safe to go out alone round here, is it?”
“Can we get down to terms?” said Lois, deciding enough was enough. “I’m collecting my husband from hospital this afternoon, and I don’t want to be late.”
They talked over the details, and the girl handed Lois the key. “It’s Mrs Reading next door,” she said. “Do you know her? She’s very helpful.”
“She’s one of my staff,” said Lois. “Oh goodness, how convenient!” said the girl. “Couldn’t be better. Let us know if there’s any problems, won’t you. As far as we know, they’re still looking for the major’s relations. He was a loner, apparently. Nobody’s come forward yet, so you’ll not be disturbed.”
Lois stood up. “Thank you very much,” she said, thinking she’d been a bit cool. This could be a good contact, after all. There must be a steady stream of empty houses needing a smarten-up before selling. “I’m sure you’ll find we do a satisfactory job. I’ll be in touch.” She shook hands with the girl, and left the office. “Now for my Derek,” she said aloud with a lightening heart.
One of the agents’ partners nearly collided with her and looked at this attractive young woman appreciatively. “Good afternoon!” he said. “I trust you’ve found what you were looking for?” His mind was on houses, but Lois’s was elsewhere.
“Not yet,” said Lois, “but I’m working on it.”
♦
Derek’s bags were packed, and he smiled broadly as Lois walked in. “All present and correct,” he said, kissing her. “We just need to tell someone we’re going. All the rest’s been done.”