its houses and their owners. Her declared policy was not to gossip, but this did not mean that she was an unwilling recipient of all kinds of juicy items. As she said to Derek, she knew more than ever appeared in the parish magazine, or on the noticeboard outside the village hall.
A family with three growing kids is expensive, and when Lois started with Mrs Baer, it had been hard for the Meades to find the money to buy the battered old Vauxhall Astra for Lois to drive to work. But with a bit of help from Lois’s mother, they’d managed it, and up to today she had been travelling without mishap.
Today she’d had her first flat tyre. She had felt the steering become heavy and suddenly the car had veered towards the kerb. The entrance to a free car park was fifty yards further on, and she’d bumped along slowly, turned in and stopped in a corner space away from the road. The front nearside tyre was completely flat and beginning to rip apart where she had driven it on the rim. “Sod it,” she’d said loudly, and a little old man, struggling into a vehicle adapted for disability, had turned and looked at her and smiled.
“I’d help you, duck,” he’d said, “but I ain’t quite up to it now.”
She had sighed, assured him she’d be fine, and set about finding the spare tyre. An hour later, her hands covered with grease and dirt, Lois had had to admit defeat. She had failed at the first hurdle, unable to move the nuts that held the wheel. She’d phoned Derek on his mobile, and he’d told her to get help.
He was twenty miles away and in the middle of a job that couldn’t be left. “Get Fred from the garage opposite,” he’d said. But it was Fred’s day off, and she’d been told to leave it there and they’d see to it when they had time.
“Yes, it would be today,” they’d said, but couldn’t tell exactly when. She’d set off on the long walk home.
Now she approached her front door and noticed with alarm that it was ajar. She stepped inside the kitchen warily and saw Josie perched on the edge of the table, reading a magazine.
“What are you doing home?” she said, and was unconvinced by her explanation of a free afternoon from school. Lois was a parent governor at the local school and was well aware that she of all people should be able to put a stop to truancy in her own family. “How did you get in, then?” she said.
“Gran let me in,” was Josie’s reply. “She was coming this way to see her friend along the road.”
“Huh,” said Lois, and reached for the kettle.
Josie was fourteen and already attractive in an adult way. Her soft, thick hair hung straight and long and shone from constant brushing. She was dark, like Lois, with the same brown, gold-flecked eyes. But she had spots, and suffered.
“Did you get that stuff?” she said.
“What stuff?” said Lois.
“The spot stuff! Oh God, I suppose you forgot!”
“Don’t swear,” said Lois mechanically, stirring the tea bag round in her cup. One law for her and another for her children, Derek often reminded her. “And no, I didn’t forget. It’s in that bag, and it’ll cost you a week’s baby- sitting money. I don’t know why you bother, Josie. All kids get spots at your age.” She was cold, tired and irritable, and even as she said it she knew she was being unfair. Spots had been the end of the world for her, too, at Josie’s age.
“You’re late, anyway,” said Josie, and Lois softened and told her about the flat tyre and the long walk. Then there was another thing that had delayed her, and she hesitated. Josie persisted. “What else, then? Shouldn’t have taken you this long.”
“Blimey!” said Lois. “What is this? The Spanish Inquisition, or what? Well, if you must know, I went to the cop shop, seeing as I was passing…”
Josie looked at her in alarm. On the Churchill Estate, anything to do with the police meant trouble. “What’s up, then?” she said.
“Nothing,” said Lois. “Just went to ask something. Here, give us the milk…it’ll be off by the time you’ve finished twiddling it about.”
The visit to the police station had not been a sudden impulse. Lois had been feeling restless lately. Her cleaning business was fine and the money regular, but she thought about things on her journeys to and from Long Farnden. Several times over the last few weeks she had remembered her father’s words. He’d always said she’d regret her wasted schooldays, and she had jeered. “A good brain’s a gift,” he’d said. “Reckon it’s a sort of sin to waste it.” She had recoiled from this hangover from her father’s chapel-going youth, and dismissed him out of hand. For God’s sake, she had a whole life in front of her!
But now, with all the talk around of education later in life, she’d wondered. She had brought up the idea of evening classes in a conversation with her mother, who had said firmly that she thought Lois had enough on her plate for the moment, what with Derek and the kids. Lois had thought some more. Back to school? It’d be like surrender, wouldn’t it? No, not really me, Lois had chuckled. I can read and write and that’ll have to be enough.
Then, just by chance, she’d seen the notice in the
LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIAL TO DO?
Why not consider becoming a Special Constable?
Lois had read that racial or ethnic origin, age, sex, marital status or disability, were no bar to entry and had decided to find out more. ‘British, Irish or Commonwealth Citizen’ – nobody more British than her. ‘Able to give up at least four hours per week’. Not a lot, that. A bit of reorganizing with Mum and Derek and should be a doddle. She thought of her own previous encounters with the police – a long time ago now, but still clear in her mind – and smiled. It’d be the other side of the fence, but none the worse for that.
“I went about a job,” said Lois to Josie.
“Thought you said you wouldn’t clean near home,” she said suspiciously.
“Not cleaning,” answered Lois.
“Well, go on,” said Josie, “tell all. You up for Chief Inspector, then?”
“Clever!” said Lois with a smile. “No, I went to find out about being a Special.” She handed over a shiny leaflet she’d been given.
Josie looked at it in silence, and then exploded. “Oh my God!” she shouted. “That’s rich! Our Mum in the cops!”
“No,” said Lois calmly. “Not a regular policewoman – a Special Constable. It’s different.”
But Josie couldn’t see the difference, and slammed out of the room, yelling from halfway up the stairs, “Just wait ‘til Dad finds out!”
Ah yes, thought Lois. There is that.
? Murder on Monday ?
Two
Telling Derek was not going to be easy. Lois would have to choose the right moment, and then he would take some persuading. He was very old-fashioned in some ways, and Byron Way had never, so far as she knew, produced a woman Special. She thought about it on and off the next day and then, late on Sunday evening, decided the time had come.
Lois grinned to herself as she topped up the bathwater from the hot tap with her big toe. Fancy me, she thought, thinking of going over to the enemy! The nail polish on her toe was peeling, and she picked at it, sending blood-like slivers floating off on to the surface. She’d not bothered to take it off properly at the end of the summer, and now picked away until it had all gone. Ugh! She pulled out the plug quickly, before Derek should come in and be put off the plans she had for him.
“Derek?” Lois stretched out on the bed in what she hoped was a languorous pose.
“Yep, that’s me,” said Derek amiably. He had won his darts match at the pub and had celebrated accordingly. Now he turned to look at Lois, and said, “For God’s sake, woman, get under the covers! You’ll catch y’death.”
Lois sighed. So much for seduction. She slid under the duvet and smiled sweetly at him.
“Bugger it!” he said. “Forgot to have a pee.” He disappeared off to the bathroom, stumbling on Lois’s wet towel and cursing loudly. When he came back, Lois welcomed him with long arms and a warm body.
“Derek,” she said again.
