by Ann Purser
* * *
BEFORE SHE WENT TO TRESHAM, LOIS HAD TO CALL ON the Battersbys. Floss was back at work, and she needed to make sure everything was going smoothly. She hoped the Colonel had calmed down, though doubted it. Derek had not yet been in touch with him, and did not intend to be, she knew. With any luck, the old martinet would be out, attending one of the many committees he chaired.
Floss had seen her coming and opened the door. “He’s out,” she whispered with a smile. “But she’s in, upstairs in her room. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
“It’s you I’ve come to see, Floss,” Lois said. “Just want to make sure you’re feeling better. How’s the ear? Still painful?”
Floss shook her head. “Not really. I’m still taking the tablets, but it’ll be fine by tomorrow. Nice of you to come, though.”
“Better tell Mrs. Battersby I’m here now, else she’ll have her feathers ruffled. Her sort do.”
Lois heard Floss’s voice, and then Blanche Battersby came downstairs. The Colonel’s lady was smiling, and greeted Lois in a friendly fashion. “Floss assures me she is feeling fine,” she said. “I wouldn’t want her to be in pain.”
“Nor would I,” said Lois. “For one thing, she wouldn’t do the job properly.” Floss, standing behind Blanche, made a face. “Is there any news of the theft?” Lois continued casually. “Last time I was here, poor Colonel Battersby was so upset.”
“Yes, well,” said Blanche, “he had good cause . . . for once,” she added quietly, looking away. “No, there’s no news,” she continued, “at least, the police haven’t told us anything. I believe your husband, Mrs. Meade, had some experience of this nasty business? I know the Colonel is hoping to speak to him.”
“Mm,” said Lois. “Well, I must be off. I’m going into Tresham, Floss. Anything you need?”
As she walked into the yard, she saw a young lad in the distance, carrying an armful of dead twigs. That must be Darren Smith, the garden boy. She quickened her step and caught up with him. “Morning, Darren,” she said. She had heard of the Smiths in Waltonby. They were a mother and young son, and lived in a council house on the Wycherley Estate. The father was still alive, but never came near them.
Darren looked round with a startled look. He did not recognize Lois, and was scared of strangers. He found it impossible to relate to people in the usual way. Words meant little to him, and he often repeated what had been said to him with no apparent comprehension, but he understood simple commands. He was like a person from another planet, where time, space, language and human behaviour were totally at odds with the one he had landed in. But his mother looked after him and loved him. She was in tune with him, made sure he got where he was supposed to go, and came back safely. His job with the Battersbys was ideal, and he worked hard. He loved the garden, but he loved the birds even more. He seemed to understand them, and looked anxious when a blackbird squawked its alarm as dusk fell.
“I’m Mrs. Meade, from Long Farnden,” Lois said quickly. “It is a nice morning, isn’t it?”
Darren nodded. “Nice morning,” he echoed politely. “Goodbye,” he said, and began to walk away.
“Oh, don’t go,” Lois said, reluctant to be dismissed so quickly. She tried again. “Mrs. Battersby has a lovely garden, hasn’t she? Thanks to you! And lovely horses, too. Do you like them?”
“Nice morning, goodbye,” he repeated.
Sad that she had failed, Lois turned around and went back to her car.
* * *
HAZEL HAD A SANDWICH AND COFFEE READY WHEN Lois walked in. “Bet you’ve had nothing to eat yet,” she said. “Here, sit at the desk and I’ll keep an eye out for customers.” She perched on a chair, and they discussed New Brooms matters until Hazel stood up suddenly and retreated from the window. “Blimey!” she said. “There’s Mrs. Nimmo coming this way, and she’s got up like a dog’s dinner! Where’s she off to?”
They soon discovered the answer when Dot Nimmo paused by New Brooms’ door, gave a push, and came into the office.
“Good afternoon,” Lois said, “can we help you?” She shoved her half-eaten sandwich into a drawer, and Hazel disappeared into the kitchen behind the office.
“Yer needn’t do that,” said Dot Nimmo, observing the half-open drawer. “Everybody’s got to eat.” She walked forward and stood within inches of the desk. “Now, it’s not what you can do fer me,” she said. “It’s what I can do fer you. I want a job. I’m a good cleaner, and reliable. You can ask anybody. I’ll take whatever wages the rest get, and I can start on Monday.”
NINE
LONG FARNDEN POST WAS DELIVERED BY JOSIE, WHO WAS postmistress as well as shopkeeper. Post office business was a lifeline for village shops, and the thought that one day it might be taken away sometimes kept her awake at night. She had sorted and delivered the post this morning, including a handful for her parents. A mail-order catalogue for Gran would keep her happy for hours, and Josie had smiled as she pushed it through the letterbox.
It was an exciting time for the family, and she wondered if she’d be able to go along to the presentation ceremony. She hoped so, and maybe Gran as well. She must remember to ask Mum. By the time she was back in the shop, she was immediately plunged into an argument about a loaf of bread that Miss Beasley had refused to accept, and had sent back with her friend, Doris Ashbourne. “Not cooked properly,” Doris said apologetically. “Ivy says it’s soggy in the middle.”
It was mid-afternoon when Lois arrived home and picked up her letters. Gran had sorted them and was already immersed in her catalogue. “There’s some lovely things here,” she said as Lois came into the kitchen. “I’ll let you have a look later.”
Lois’s letters were dull. Four charity appeals, and notice of a Well Woman Clinic at the local surgery. She put the appeals in the bin, feeling guilty, and decided the clinic could wait another year. She felt fine, except somewhat bruised by her encounter with Dot Nimmo. She glanced at Derek’s letters, and saw an official-looking envelope with a London postmark. “Oh no,” she said. “Don’t say it’s all been a big mistake, and we haven’t won the Lottery after all!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gran said. “Anyway,” she added doubtfully, “if you’re really worried, we could open it. I could say I opened it by mistake?” She picked up the envelope as if it contained a bomb.
“Mother!” Lois said sharply. “Put it down at once. Derek’ll be home soon, and then we shall know all. I’m going up to change. Perhaps you’d better give the letter to me.”
Gran exploded. “So you don’t trust your own mother!” she said, and threw the letter across the table to Lois. “For two pins I’d move to where I was appreciated. See how you get on without me!” Then she burst into tears, and Lois was mortified. It took a good fifteen minutes to put things right, and by that time Derek’s van was drawing into the drive.
“Come on, Mum,” Lois said. “Buck up. I’ve a good story to tell you and Derek. Something that happened in the office this afternoon. I’ll just whiz up and change first.”
* * *
THEY WERE ON TO THEIR STEAMED JAM ROLL AND CUSTARD before Lois felt relaxed enough to describe the visit of Dot Nimmo to New Brooms. Derek had looked at his London post-marked letter and it had been an insurance company touting for business. So that was all right. Now she could make a good story of Dot’s strange appearance in the office.
“We saw her coming down the street,” she said. “Make-up, tight jeans, scrawny neck and dangling earrings. The lot. Hazel had just been showing me a crash follow-up story in the paper, with a picture of our Dot taken about thirty years ago. She was a good-looker then, poor woman. Anyway, to our surprise, she came into the office, and launched into a long speech about how she needed a job, and said we really needed her. She could start on Monday, she said!”
“I know all about them Nimmos,” Gran said darkly. “You don’t want to touch them with a barge pole. Not unless you want to lose all your customers.”
Derek laughed. “T
ime to listen to Gran, Lois, from the sound of it.”
“You don’t think I took her on, for God’s sake!” Lois stared at them. “No, it was quite difficult for Hazel and me to get rid of her. What beats me is why she wanted a job with us, anyway.”
“Information, that’s what she’d want. She’s not stupid, that Dot Nimmo. Her folks lived on the estate, just up the road from me.” Gran’s eyes were misty as she recalled the days when her husband was alive and they were regulars at the whist afternoons. “I remember they told me once that she’d been bright at school and had a good future. Then she met that Handy Nimmo, as they called him, and fell for him, hook, line and sinker. She went from bad to worse, and is now just like the rest of ’em. But she’s not stupid, Lois. She’ll be wanting to nose around to get some way of paying back for the death of her beloved son.”
“Ha!” said Derek. “So you’re not the only one, Lois, to spot how goin’ cleanin’ can be useful. You could hire Dot Nimmo as your side-kick.”
“Thanks very much for the suggestion,” said Lois, not liking the way this conversation was going. “Anyway, how was your day? Seen the Colonel yet?”
Derek shook his head. “But I have had a call from your friend Cowgill. Seems the Colonel told him about what I saw at Joe Horsley’s. He wants me to call in at the cop shop tomorrow.” He watched for Lois’s reaction, and got it.
“Just wait till I speak to him! He knows I won’t talk about you, so he’s trying the direct line!”
Derek sighed. “Don’t worry, me duck,” he said. “I told you I was goin’ to tell them, anyway. Won’t take more than five minutes to tell what I saw. Shan’t mention Joe, though. I shan’t say he didn’t want the police told. They can find out for themselves why he didn’t.”
“Fine,” said Lois. “And he’s good at his job, is Cowgill, so don’t let him worm anything out of you what you don’t want told.”
Later that evening, while they were watching boring football on the television, Lois was thinking about stable thefts, and remembered what Derek had said. Why didn’t Joe Horsley want to report it to the police? Didn’t want the hassle, he’d said. But that thief could have had another go at the farm. Why had Joe taken it so casually?
“Derek,” she said.
“Sshh! He’s gonna score! Hey!! Yes!” After several moments of triumph, he turned to her and said, “Did you say somethin’, me duck?”
“Oh, forget it,” Lois said. “No, on second thoughts, don’t forget it. I was thinking about Joe Horsley. How well do you know him?”
“Only what I picked up while working there. He seemed a good enough bloke. His wife was very nice.” He grinned at her, and Gran laughed.
“I’m serious, Derek. Is it a big farm? What’s the house like? Did he pay up promptly?”
Derek groaned. “Why don’t you just leave it to your policeman to ask the questions?”
Lois didn’t answer, but fixed him with an icy look. He sighed. “Oh, all right. It’s a middlin’-size farm. The house is just an old farmhouse, but they’ve made it posh. Tennis court, billiard room, all that. And yes, he paid me in cash before I left. Will that do? Can we concentrate on the football now?”
“One more question,” she said. “Who are his friends?”
“God knows. I’ve heard them talking to people on the phone, but I’ve got no idea who they were. That’s more in your line than mine, Lois.” He stared at the screen for five minutes, and then added, “I heard the two of them talking about the Domino Club in Tresham a couple of times. Seems he goes there quite a lot. Don’t think she does, though. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see the rest of this exciting match.”
Lois yawned exaggeratedly, and said, “I think I’ll go on up now. Night, Mum. See you in a bit, Derek.”
He blew her a kiss without taking his eyes off the screen.
TEN
TRESHAM’S NIGHT LIFE CENTRED AROUND A MULTI-SCREEN cinema, a small theatre where skilled amateurs put on popular plays for an audience of mostly pensioners, and a couple of clubs: the Domino and the Ace of Diamonds. Lois knew the cinema well, and had been occasionally to the theatre with Gran, but had never been clubbing. She had never even considered it, rightly supposing that Derek would hate it—and anyway, such clubs were for the young. But now she was intrigued. Joe Horsley wasn’t young. Josie would be the one to ask about clubs. She had gone mildly off the rails as a teenager. Then there was Hazel, who’d had direct experience of the drug scene and still had many contacts. But there was no reason to suppose Joe Horsley’s taste for clubbing had anything to do with drugs. No, she would try Josie first.
Lois had also been toying with the idea of organizing an accidental meeting with one of the Horsleys. Joe’s wife Maggie must have her hair done somewhere, or she might catch Joe at the market in Tresham. Most farmers congregated in the pub in the Market Square. That was probably the best bet. Then she could settle the niggling thought that she should try a bit harder on the stable thefts, find out at least some pointers for Cowgill. She smiled to herself. They’d been close for years, in a manner of speaking.
She closed down her computer and went through to the kitchen, where Gran was ironing fiercely. Her technique was a battle between her and Derek’s shirts, rumpled pillowcases, and tea towels, which, in Lois’s view, did not need ironing. Gran thumped the iron down on obstinate creases and rolled-up edges. Clouds of steam hissed, and she folded and pressed as if inflicting a necessary punishment.
“Shall I do the rest?” Lois asked.
“Why?”
“To give you a rest.” This was a recurring conversation, and Lois knew the conclusion, but it made her feel better to ask.
“If you do them, my dear,” Gran said on cue, “I shall just have to go over them again. So I might as well finish now. Derek loves the way I do his shirts.”
“Right,” said Lois. “Have it your way. Don’t forget I offered.” She looked at the clock. “I think I’ll just slip down to the shop,” she added. “Something I need to ask Josie, and I think we’re out of eggs. Shan’t be long.”
Gran did not reply. They were not out of eggs, but it was no good arguing with Lois.
* * *
JOSIE WAS PREPARING TO HAND OVER THE SHOP TO ROB, who had come home early. “I’ve got work to do in the stockroom,” she’d said, “and it’s so much easier without interruptions.”
Now Lois came in and lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Hi Rob, where’s Josie?” she asked.
“Out the back,” he said. “I’m in charge, so what can I sell you? Josie thinks I’m no good at selling, so you could do me a favour and spend a tenner or two.”
“Not a chance,” said Lois, laughing. “Just a dozen eggs please. And then I’ll go and have a word out the back. She can carry on working. Just something I need to know.”
“And I can’t help?”
“Well . . .” Lois considered for a couple of seconds. “Well, actually, Rob, you might be able to. I need to know about the club scene in Tresham. Needless to say, I don’t know much. But Josie used to go with friends at one time, and I expect you did too. What are the clubs like? Are they both much the same?”
Rob shook his head. “The Ace of Diamonds is a rough place, with a bad reputation. Kids go there to show how big they are. They buy stuff and get high, and then have to be picked up off pavements and sometimes end up in hospital—and occasionally the morgue.”
“Why don’t the police close it down?” Lois could not imagine Joe Horsley in this scene. She had a mental picture of him in tweeds and brogues, bluff and pipe-smoking. No, no, not that one. Anyway, she was sure Derek had said the Domino.
“The Ace is clever. Always got a get-out clause when anything bad comes up.”
“And the other one?” she asked.
“The Domino? Ah, now that’s a different kettle of fish. Smart, with excellent music for dancing, no drugs—not on the surface, anyway—and a good class of customer. They have visiting show-biz stars, often ones who
make it to the top later. I used to go there a lot at one time, when I could afford it.” He smiled, gesturing towards the stockroom. “Too many expenses now,” he added.
“Well, you’ve been a help,” Lois said. “I don’t need to bother your expensive partner now. Far be it from me to interrupt a vital part of this money-making business.” She was irritated by his insinuations. She had brought up her daughter to keep an eye on spending, and run an economic household. And what was Rob bringing in? Not a fortune, that was for sure.
“A joke, Lois,” Rob said, seeing her face. “Your Josie is a wonder. I’m sure she’ll be sorry to have missed you. Shall I call her?”
Lois shook her head. “No, not now, thanks. I’ll be getting back. Sorry I can’t be a better customer,” she added, picking up the eggs. “Bye.”
Oops, said Rob to himself, put my foot in it there. Just when I was thinking of popping the question to Josie. I’m not sure I could manage a mother-in-law like Lois. He wondered why she wanted to know about Tresham clubs. Deciding that she was sleuthing again and was not likely to tell him, he sat on the stool and picked up a paper to read until the next customer came in.
* * *
“PUT THOSE EGGS BEHIND THE OTHER ONES IN THE larder,” said Gran when Lois returned. “How was Josie?”
“Didn’t see her,” Lois said casually. “Rob was in the shop, and she was busy in the stockroom. I had a chat with him, bought the eggs and came straight home. Happy?”
“I don’t know why you are so difficult,” Gran said. “You had loving parents, were a spoilt only one, and have a very patient, wonderful husband.”
“Not to mention my long-suffering, hard-working mother!” Lois gave her mother a big hug, said some people reckoned she, Lois, was exactly like her mum, and so there was nothing to be done. “I’ll be in my office for an hour or so,” Lois continued. “Paperwork to catch up on.”