by Ann Purser
Josie thought privately that this was just about the most useless way of looking at it, but then her mother came into the shop, and she went to greet her. “Sorry, Mum, about Darren. What a sodding thing to happen.”
“Don’t swear, Josie,” Lois said mechanically. “But yes, it is a sodding thing to happen. I’m just going over to see Mrs. Smith. She wants to see me.”
“Oh, Mum. Would you like me to come too? You look very tired. Shouldn’t you still be resting?”
Lois shook her head. “No, I feel like poor little Floss. I’m better doing something. I thought I’d take a gift for Mrs. Smith. Are those yesterday’s flowers?”
“Certainly not!” said Josie. “They’re fresh this morning. Here, take a couple of bunches from me. Though what good are flowers when you’ve lost your only son?” She bent down to pick out the best bunches from the bucket, and was able to hide her tears. “Mum,” she said, when she straightened up, “do you think it is a blessing in disguise?”
Lois stared at her. “Good heavens, no! Do you?”
Josie shook her head, and began to wrap gift paper around the flowers. “There’s some as does,” she said quietly.
“They should talk to Mrs. Smith,” Lois said. “Bye-bye, duckie. Don’t let ’em upset you.”
* * *
MRS. SMITH OPENED THE DOOR, AND ALTHOUGH LOIS thought she had prepared herself for what might be, she was taken aback by the deathly pallor of the woman’s face.
“Come in, please,” Mrs. Smith said, and stood aside to allow Lois to enter the narrow hall. “Go into the sitting room, please. The kettle’s on. Would you like tea or coffee?”
Lois wanted neither, but she said tea would be fine, thinking it might help. In the few minutes while she was alone, she looked around the room, seeing all the photographs, neatly framed, of Darren. Darren in a paddling pool, Darren on the beach, Darren on a tricycle. And Darren on a donkey, his head thrown back in laughter.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the tea. “It was kind of you to let me come and see you. My mum sent you her sincere condolences.”
“He liked her,” Mrs. Smith said blankly. “He said he liked Mrs. Weedon. He said so several times. But then, he said most things several times.”
It was like watching an old factory chimney crumble under explosive. Lois took Mrs. Smith’s hand, as she seemed to get smaller and smaller, hunching up into a tight ball of grief. No sound came from her. It would be easier, thought Lois, holding on, if Darren’s mum could yell and shout and drum up a storm.
Then Lois did it for her. Her eyes filled with tears at last, and she yelled out loud, “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! Where were you, bloody Horace!”
Mrs. Smith slowly uncurled and looked at Lois. “Yes, dear,” she said in a whisper. “He was supposed to be helping. Where was Horace Battersby?”
FIFTY-FOUR
AS LOIS OPENED HER CAR DOOR, AFTER A GOOD HOUR with Mrs. Smith, she heard a voice calling her name. She turned around and saw an old lady walking with difficulty towards her.
“Hello? Can I help you?” Another client for New Brooms?
“Good morning, Mrs. Meade.” The voice was breathless with effort. “You don’t know me, but I am Margaret Horsley’s aunt. Everybody calls me Auntie Eileen. Have you got a minute to spare? I just wanted to have a word.”
Lois looked at her. A nice face, with a wise expression. “Why don’t you sit in my van for a minute or two, while we talk?” she said, and helped the old lady into the passenger seat. “Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?”
“Nothing,” said Auntie Eileen firmly. “I didn’t want to ask you anything. I’ve something to tell you.” Lois nodded and waited. “It’s about Darren. I’ve known him since he was very small. He was happy in this village. Everybody knew him, and he was so anxious to please that you couldn’t help liking him. Nobody made much fuss about it, but we all supported his mother where we could. A village was the right place for him. His farmer friend over the fields taught him to ride, and he was really good with horses.”
Lois looked surreptitiously at her watch. She knew all this already, and wondered how she could shorten the chat. She was still planning to call on the Battersbys before going home.
“You’ll know most of this, I expect,” Eileen said, not missing the glance at the watch. “But there is something you probably don’t know. You might wonder why I’m telling you. Well, I’ve heard about you and cases you’ve helped the police with. That’s why, and what I’m going to tell you might help Mrs. Smith. Somebody’s got to pay for Darren’s death, which I’m pretty sure was not an accident.”
Lois sat up straight, startled into close attention. The object of her talk with Mrs. Smith had been to comfort and support, but the poor woman had been too distressed to reveal anything of incidental use. Now, either the old lady was wandering, dramatizing in the way of village gossips, or she really did know something. “Go on, Auntie Eileen,” she said. “Take your time.”
Eileen did not need to take time. She had mulled over the facts for so long now, determining all the while to reveal them to the right person, and now she spoke fluently and clearly.
“Blanche Battersby knew all Darren’s difficulties, and as she is a Christian woman, she did her best to help. He loved working in their garden, and then began to ride the quietest of their horses, always with Blanche by his side. The Colonel kept well out of the way. I heard him one day, out by the gate, saying loudly that Blanche was wasting her time. The boy would never be any good.”
“Where do you live, Auntie Eileen?” Lois hesitated, and then added, “Do you mind if I call you Eileen? It seems more natural . . .”
“Call me what you like, dear, as long as you don’t call me early in the morning. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. I live just around the corner, next to the school. I spend a lot of time at my gate, talking to the children. They know me, and I know most of them.” She tut-tutted and added, “Except for the ones that are hustled into four-by-fours at the school gates, that is. They love to chat, do the children. Amazing what they know, what they pick up from school.”
“And what were you saying about Darren?”
“It’s not unconnected, dear. Have patience! Well, one day the Colonel saw Darren riding in the paddock, jumping a nice old horse over some low jumps that Blanche had fixed up. There were a couple of the children there as well. Blanche used to give them lessons after school. It was them that told me what happened. Seems the Colonel shouted across to Darren, ‘Well done, lad!’ He was smiling, and seemed surprised, they said. Then he went into a huddle with Blanche, and the children’s mother was cross because they were late having their lesson. They were indignant, and said it wasn’t their fault!”
“And after that?”
“Darren was often round the village. I used to see him, always up on a horse, going by with Blanche. One day she stopped at my gate and had a word. Darren was very shy, you know, but he was excited, and suddenly said, ‘Going to a point-to-point tomorrow! Lots of horses. Maybe Darren have a ride!’”
“But how could . . . ?” Lois stopped sharp. She had seen in her rear-view mirror the tall figure of the Colonel approaching. “Um, Eileen,” she said. “Colonel Battersby is coming this way. I’m going to drive off now, and I do have a good reason. I’ll bring you back straight away. Fasten your seat belt.”
Starting the engine, she drove off quickly before the Colonel could see who was in the van with her. He might know the van, but couldn’t possibly see Eileen. “Sorry about that,” Lois said, when they were out of sight. “I’ll explain.”
“No need,” said Eileen. “He’s dangerous. And now it’s all gone wrong, he’s probably desperate.”
Then she finished her account of Darren and the point-to-point. Apparently he’d been taken, but of course had not ridden a horse. “But when he came back,” Eileen continued, “he told his mother, who told me, that the Colonel had said that one day Darren would ride in the races, if he was a good boy and did
what he was told. Mrs. Smith was really proud, poor woman. After that, Darren was always there, riding horses, and some of them were not quiet at all. His mum said Darren was so good with them. He could ride a bucking bronco, she told everyone in the village. Sometimes Margaret’s Joe was there as well, and he told her the same.”
“So what happened? Did he get to ride in a race?”
Eileen shook her head. “Good heavens, no. After that they took him to one or two more races, and then that one when he went missing. I reckon there’s a lot more to find out.”
Lois pulled up outside the school. “Thanks for listening,” Eileen said, smiling. “Sorry I can’t tell you anything else, but you’ll find out. Bless you, dear.” She hobbled into her garden and shut the gate.
“Bye,” Lois said, “and watch your back!” She made it sound like a joke, but she meant it.
* * *
LOIS DECIDED SHE WOULD POSTPONE HER VISIT TO THE Battersbys. She needed to think around what Eileen had told her. Her own instinct about the point-to-point had been on the right track, it seemed. The Colonel had promised Darren he would ride in a race, if he was a good boy. How could he possibly do that? Surely there would be all kinds of rules and regulations about something as dangerous as horse racing? She needed to know. Perhaps Cowgill could help there? Time to get in touch. When she was back home, she checked her messages and saw one had come in. Mrs. Horsley—would Lois ring her back? What did she want? Well, she could wait.
Gran had followed her into the office. “If you don’t come into the kitchen and eat something, my girl,” she said, hands on hips, “I am going to chain you to a bedpost and throw away the key.”
Lois frowned at the interruption, then relented. “I’m starving,” she confessed. “Lead on, Macduff.”
* * *
MARGARET HORSLEY TELEPHONED AGAIN ABOUT AN hour later, and asked if she could come over and see Lois. “Would you be at home for a while now?” she said. She sounded odd, as if she had been crying, or shouting. Her voice was muffled, and when she heard that Lois would be available, she rang off straight away.
“I’ll be in my office for a while,” Lois said to Gran. “Mrs. Horsley is calling in, quite soon, I think. Then I do have to go out again later.”
Gran made a face, but decided to say nothing more. At least she had fuelled Lois for another few hours. She set up the ironing board near the door into the hall so that she would hear the doorbell.
Margaret arrived half an hour later, and Gran was there to open up. “Yes? Can I help you?” she said, perfectly well aware who the woman was, and what she wanted.
“I have an appointment to see—”
Lois appeared from her office and took over. “Thanks, Mum,” she said. As Gran stalked off, Lois stood back to allow Margaret to go ahead of her. As she passed, Lois was aware of a strong whiff of alcohol. Oh, grief! What now? She sat down at her desk and prepared to listen.
“It’s about the cleaning,” Margaret said, and her words were faintly slurred. “I was wondering if Dot would be back soon? Evelyn’s all right, but not as good as Dot, and I really would like her back soon.”
Lois looked at her hard, and knew that this was not the reason she had come. A casual telephone call would have given her the answer. She began to feel uneasy, as if something dangerous was round the corner. On the several occasions that this had happened before, she had always been right. She wished devoutly that it hadn’t struck her just at this moment.
“It’ll be another week or two, Mrs. Horsley,” she said. “But Dot is determined to get going as soon as possible, so I’m sure you won’t have to wait much longer. I am sorry you don’t find Evelyn satisfactory . . . is there any particular thing you’d like to mention?”
Margaret shook her head. She seemed to have nothing more to say, and half rose from her chair. Then she sat down again, and looked waveringly at Lois.
“You know, don’t you?” she blurted out finally.
“Know what?”
“About Darren and the horse, and my husband and that bloody Horace, and their pathetic little scams at the races? And then the sods involved my father. I couldn’t stand that. My old dad. The last straw. Now a defence–fence–fenceless lad has been killed.”
“Why are you telling me this, Mrs. Horsley?” Lois wished she had already telephoned Cowgill, and alerted him that something was very wrong and could become scary.
Margaret looked surprised. “So you can help me do something about it, of course!” she said. “You do that sort of thing, don’t you? Everybody knows. Joe knows and the Colonel knows, and even that stuck-up bitch Blanche knows. Why else d’you think you nearly snuffed it?”
“Ah,” said Lois. “Now, Mrs. Horsley, I’m going to get Mum to make us some nice strong coffee, and you can tell me all about it. Everything you can remember.”
“No!” Margaret said violently. “Don’t need coffee. Head’s as clear as a bell. And I’ve told you most of what I know. Now, I want you to come with me. I’ll pay. I need a witness, and you’re the best person I can think of. I tried asking the lovely Blanche, but she put the phone down on me. So that’s that. Are you ready?”
“Where are we going?” Lois said, thinking it best to humour her.
“You’ll see,” Margaret said. “Not far. Now, are you coming or aren’t you?”
“I just have to make one call. Message left for me, and it sounds urgent.”
“No calls,” Margaret said. “This is urgent. If you can’t come now, I’ll do it myself. God knows what’ll happen, but . . .” She blinked hard, and took Lois’s arm. “Please,” she said, and Lois followed her out of the room, yelling to Gran that she’d be back soon, and not to worry.
They got into Margaret’s car, and took off on an erratic course up the High Street. Lois fumbled for her mobile in her bag on the car floor, hoping that Margaret would not notice that without taking it out, she found Cowgill’s number, made sure it was ringing, and then quickly closed it down.
She pulled out a packet of Polo mints and offered one to Margaret. “Take it,” she said as sternly as she could. “Wherever we’re going, it would be better if you didn’t stink of drink.”
FIFTY-FIVE
LOIS KNEW VERY SOON WHERE THEY WERE GOING. THEY were on the Waltonby road, and she said, “Are we going to the Battersbys’?”
Margaret nodded. “Joe’s there. He told me for once where he was going. Two birds with one stone,” she added and laughed.
Lois did not like the laugh, nor the imagery. Kill two birds with one stone? She looked over into the back seat, but there was nothing there but a small handbag.
“Nothing in there,” Margaret said, pleased with her own sharpness. “I’m not drunk, you know, just had enough to give me courage. Look in the pocket at the back of your seat, and you’ll see a flask. Have a slurp, go on! Then give me one. Go on! I thought you were supposed to be so tough? It’s whisky. Good for you, Joe always says.”
Lois reached for the flask, pretended to drink, and said, “Are you sure you should have more? After all, you are driving—”
Margaret snatched the flask from her and took a long swallow. “Trust me,” she said expansively. “Passed my driving test first time, you know. Now, here we are. You get out and I’ll lock the car.”
“Why?” Lois said. “It’s not likely to be stolen here.”
“In case they decide to make a quick getaway,” Margaret replied, and laughed again. It was a mirthless laugh, and Lois shivered. Whatever Margaret had in mind, it was not going to be a pleasant reunion.
* * *
HORACE BATTERSBY AND JOE SAT ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF the Colonel’s desk, and their conversation was drying up. Horace had not believed Joe when he said they were in the clear. He’d had some very harsh words to say about the twins. He considered that Darren’s death was extreme carelessness. He had instructed Joe that they should frighten them, scare them off, but not kill. He began to wonder what exactly Joe had told them.
Dot
and the Meade woman narrowly escaped death—well, they might just get away with that, though the police had been round asking more questions. Blanche had gone in to Tresham that afternoon, and they’d had a row before she went. She’d said she was fed up with all this and was thinking of leaving for good.
“It seems your Margaret rang her,” Horace continued. “Blanche wouldn’t speak to her, but is now convinced the affair is on again. God, it’s trouble every way you look! I heartily wish you’d never got me in to this.”
“What d’you mean? If I remember rightly, you were the one who got me—”
“Oh well, it’s no good going over it now,” Horace interrupted. “We have to decide what we’re going to do and say. It’s serious now, but if our aborted master plan for Darren leaks out, then we’ll be up against the firing squad. Just a minute!” he added, getting up from the desk. “Is that a car? Blanche is not due back yet—if ever!”
The doorbell rang. Both men froze. “You go,” said Horace.
FIFTY-SIX
“WELL, FANCY SEEING YOU!” MARGARET SAID AS THE door opened a fraction. “Let me in, Joe. I am sure Horace will be pleased to see me. And my friend Lois here.”
She put her foot in the doorway so that he couldn’t close it, and smiled at Lois. “You don’t mind my using your first name, do you? S’more friendly . . .” Lois said it was fine, and waited in some trepidation.
Joe slowly opened the door and stood aside. “Come on, Lois,” Margaret said, and, just saving herself from tripping on the step, marched in. “Where is he?” she asked.
Joe led the way to the Colonel’s study and walked in, followed by the two women. Horace began to bluster, ordering them to knock before they interrupted him when he was working, but Margaret ignored him. She pulled two chairs up to the desk and motioned to Lois to sit down.
“And you, Joe,” she said. “And you can shut up, Horace,” she added rudely. “We’ve got a lot of talking to do. Where’s the lovely Blanche?”