“Me darlin’!” he said boozily.
“Um,” whispered Lois, “I was thinking of training to be a Special. What d’you think?”
“You’re special enough already,” he mumbled, turning towards her. Before things got beyond sensible conversation, Lois said quickly, “No, a Special Constable…you know…”
“A
“Well, a kind of spare-time job, uniform and that…” Lois squirmed a little, trying to release her trapped arm. She then giggled, knowing she’d get nowhere tonight. Might as well enjoy defeat.
Derek’s head swam. He wished he hadn’t had that last pint. With a big effort, he brought up before his eyes his late father’s list of recommended ways of dealing with stroppy women. He selected the words ‘a good seeing- to’, and got on with it.
The next morning, Derek was quiet at the breakfast table. The children had all gone off to school with Lois’s mother, and now Lois looked at him tentatively. “Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” she said. He swallowed a crust of toast, washed it down with the last mouthful of tea, and swivelled round on his chair to look at her.
“Got to talk, haven’t we,” he said.
“Well, yes, but not right now,” said Lois firmly. “It’s Mrs Rix, Mondays, and she gets snotty if I’m late.”
“Never mind Mrs Rix. Cleanin’ help is not that easy to find. Now you just sit down here and tell me what you’re up to.” He was proud of Lois, but sometimes found it hard to assert his head-of-the-house position when she was in this mood.
Lois knew she needed Derek on her side, so fetched the shiny brochure and handed it to him. “This’ll tell you,” she said. “I’ve more or less decided, but I’d like you to agree.”
“Well, thanks very much. Very honoured,” said Derek. He opened the brochure and looked at the photographs of attractive men and women in police uniform helping grateful people out of a number of difficult situations. Two of them, one a policewoman, were sorting out a fight between two hefty youngsters. “Here!” said Derek, alarmed. “I don’t want you getting into no fights! We need you in one piece here at home. Fine mess we’d be in if you got beaten up!”
“Mum’d help,” said Lois. “She’s come round to the idea.”
“Told her before me, as usual?” Derek thought of making something serious of it, but realized his best course of action was compliance. Lois wouldn’t like the job. Not with the police! No, better go along with it for the moment. “Not much good my objecting, then, is it?” he said. Lois bent over and kissed him enthusiastically, and he grabbed her round the waist. “Time for a quick one, then?” he said. “Or shall I get arrested?”
¦
Mrs Rix, Mondays, was waiting for Lois on the doorstep of her foursquare Edwardian redbrick house in Little Farnden. They were two of a kind, Lois had decided, Mrs Rix and her house. Secure and dependable and pleasant enough, provided you did not overstep the mark. Mrs Rix’s husband was the local GP and the house had an appropriately reassuring air. Although Dr Rix was in partnership with other doctors at the medical centre in Tresham, he maintained the old tradition of a village surgery in his house, reserving a small room as consulting room, with an even smaller room for waiting patients. There was seldom a queue and the older people appreciated not having to travel into Tresham on the bus to see the doctor.
Mrs Rix ran a neat and orderly house, with a regular routine. Lois never moved the ornaments from their ordained places, never pinched off dead heads of flowers that might be saved for seeds. In some of her other houses Lois was encouraged to make suggestions of all kinds, but not here.
Dr Rix was approaching retirement, but still carried out his duties as doctor and chairman of the parish council with dedication, kindness and warmth. When he first came to the village as a handsome, newly-married young man, he had been shy, and the nearest he came to joking with patients was a pat on the head for a six- year-old malingerer with a jovial “I expect you’re longing to get back to school!” But his confidence had grown, and now he was an indispensable institution in the village. They knew they’d never get another like Dr Rix.
When Lois opened the latched gate and saw Mary Rix waiting for her, she knew the doctor would already have beaten a hasty retreat into his study and immersed himself in
“Morning, Lois,” said Mary Rix, with only a small smile. “We were beginning to think you were ill?”
Lois shook her head. “Have I ever let you down, Mrs Rix?” she said. “I’d always let you know if I couldn’t come. No, Derek and me had something urgent to discuss.” She made it sound like a matter of life and death, and Mary Rix’s irritation turned to sympathy, as Lois had intended.
“If there’s anything we can do to help…”
Lois nodded at Mary, and took off her coat, collecting cleaning things from the cupboard. “Doctor in his study?” she said. Mrs Rix nodded. “He’ll be gone shortly, though. Another call from Miss Hathaway…a creaking door if there ever was one!”
It was so unusual for Mrs Rix to say anything at all about the doctor’s patients that Lois turned to look at her in surprise.
Mrs Rix’s face was set hard, and she banged the cutlery drawer shut with a rattle. “Right!” she said. “I must get going, Lois. It’ll be coffee break before we know it.”
Lois headed for the doctor’s study thoughtfully. She’d seen Miss Hathaway outside the village shop on her way to work and she’d looked fine to Lois. Smarter than usual, with her hair done in a new way. Lois shrugged. There were plenty of ailments not visible to the naked eye and Gloria Hathaway was probably one of those who kept a medical dictionary by the bed. She paused, and then knocked at the study door.
“I shall be on my way, then,” said Andrew Rix, smiling at Lois, and touching her arm gently as he moved towards the door. “Give you a clear field, my dear,” he added. Lois had a soft spot for the doctor. He always treated her with unfailing courtesy and this was a scarce quality in Lois’s world.
¦
Gloria Hathaway’s cottage was like a tea-cosy: thatched roof, diamond-paned windows, criss-crossing beams, hollyhocks in summer, holly berries in winter, and a crazy-paving path up which Dr Rix now strode in the damp November air. He was still a fit, strong figure, never giving way to the self-doctoring temptation of his profession at times of stress. Dear Mary was his medicine! The perfect wife, he often told her, but knew from her expression that she still thought herself otherwise.
Miss Hathaway’s door opened a few inches and her small, freckled face looked out. She glanced beyond the doctor and saw her neighbour, the community nurse, hovering on the footpath between their gardens. “Ah, Doctor,” she said. “You’re early…”
“It’s a Lois day,” he explained, and as she opened the door wider, he stepped inside.
? Murder on Monday ?
Three
Lois had filled in the blue card with her name, address and telephone number, but hadn’t ticked the box asking for a Special to visit. She could just see the boys scowling in the kitchen while she gave a cup of tea to the enemy. No, better to keep it as separate from home as possible. She would wait to be summoned to the station.
“Very good!” laughed Derek, when she explained it to him. “
“All right, all right,” said Lois, “it’s not that funny.”
“What time’s your train, Mum?” said Josie. “See? station…get it?” she explained to Douglas and Jamie. Jamie still didn’t get it.
“Oh yeah,” shrugged Douglas, refusing to be amused. “Don’t matter what she says, it’s the cops. You want to watch out, Josie Meade,” he added maliciously, “else they’ll be checking on your school bag…” He made a swift exit upstairs then, too swift for Josie to follow.
“What did he mean, Josie?” said Lois sharply, and stepped forward to look for herself, but Josie nipped smartly out of the door and through the gate.
“Anyway,” said Derek, as if nothing had happened, “it says here you can go to an Open Evening – gives a
