“Oh, but – ”
“No, I mean it. It’s time. We’ll sort out stuff to take to the local hospital’s premature baby unit. I could do with a sewing room, now I’ve taken up patchwork. We had a demonstration at Open Minds and we’re all at it now! Yes, that’s it, that’s what we’ll do.” She smiled at Lois. “You’re a good girl,” she said. “I shan’t forget your kindness. Now I’ll go and put on the kettle and you can carry on as usual.” She put her hand briefly on Lois’s shoulder, and then was gone, her step firm on the stairs.
Lois finished cleaning the sad little room and moved on to the landing. She shut the door, but then changed her mind. “Let’s see if you mean it,” she said softly, and opened it again, leaving a small draught that made the yellow sailing boats dance upon the blue and white summer sea.
¦
“Hello? Oh, it’s you.” Lois, back home as the telephone began to ring, looked round to see if anyone was listening. “What?…Hunter Cowgill again?…Well, I suppose so, but I haven’t got much…Where, then? Round the back of the bike sheds? No, no, it was a joke…Yes, I’m at the nurse’s on Wednesdays…Difficult? Well, I’ll have to think of something. Shall I come to the cottage back door? And will he wear a red carnation so’s I shall recognise – ” Before she had finished her sentence, Keith Simpson had replaced the receiver.
“Who was that?” said Josie, coming through the door with a miserable expression. “Not Melv?”
Lois shook her head. “No, not Melv. Just someone for me. And for goodness sake cheer up, child. You look like something the cat’s brought in.”
“Funny you should say that,” said Josie, delving into her school bag. “Melv sent me a goodbye present…one of the kids down his road brought it in. Ouch!” she added as she pulled out a spitting kitten, its claws extended and a wild look in its blue eyes.
“Oh God!” said Lois. “That’s all we need – and a ginger tom, too! I don’t know what your father will say.”
“He likes cats,” said Josie confidently. “I’m going to call him Mel, to remind me of my own true love.”
? Murder on Monday ?
Twenty-Four
Both Barratts were out when Lois arrived the next day, so she used her own key to enter the quiet, tidy house. Her feelings were mixed. She could always get on faster in a house where nobody was at home, but now she felt it was an opportunity lost, no chance of a conversation that might give her a useful lead.
At least I can have a snoop, she thought, as she climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. She paused outside the bathroom, where she usually began, but thought perhaps today she’d start right at the top, in Malcolm’s attic study, and work her way down. Won’t matter, with nobody at home, she said to herself.
The door to the study was open and, feeling suddenly nervous, Lois peeped round the door. “Yoo hoo!” she called. There was no answer, so she went over to empty the waste-paper basket. She recalled Malcolm’s nasty habit of catching her bending whenever he got the chance, and from force of habit whipped round quickly as if to catch him at it.
There was nothing of interest in the bin, but as she dusted his desk she saw an address book open at the ‘P’ page. Idly glancing down the names, her eye was caught by a single Christian name – ‘Pamela’. No surname, no address, just an enigmatic telephone number. Lois recognised the code. Was it Malcolm’s unlucky day? Auntie Ginnie, her mother’s sister, lived in Edinburgh and kept in touch, and Lois knew the code off by heart. Well now, it might be interesting to dial this number and pretend a bit. Better do it from home, thought Lois, oddly scrupulous about wasting the Barratts’ money.
The uneasy feeling that someone might be in the house followed her from room to room. It seemed sad to Lois that she would probably feel the same in all her houses, now that the murder had spread poison round the whole village. It wouldn’t be any different until the murderer had been discovered and all the circulating suspicions could die down and the village get back to normal.
She found nothing more of interest in the Barratts’ house. In fact, she stopped looking. Can’t do it, she thought. Not while they’re out. It’s not right. Some rules, it seemed to Lois, must be established if she was going on with this. She did not have the legal right to search private property and anyway felt dishonest. Information picked up by chance was fair game…but not this snooping around. She wouldn’t ring that Pamela woman after all, whoever she was. She left promptly and called in at the village shop for a loaf of bread before going back to Tresham. The bread was wonderful here and though the kids preferred Tesco’s sliced white, Derek and she ate the village shop wholemeal loaf as if it was cake. Mmmm…a slice of toast with butter and honey. Lois dreamed of sitting by the fire, indulging herself.
“Morning, Lois!” It was Gillian Surfleet, bustling into the shop with a big smile for everyone. “Finished at the Barratts?”
Lois nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and found herself wondering why Gillian was so smiley, so anxious to please this morning. There it was again. Suspicion is an evil thing, creeping everywhere, and she hated herself for her own thoughts about a woman she would have trusted with her life. “Bye, then,” she said, and drove home through the empty lanes. Confused and unable to sort out her own part in all this, she thought of her meeting the next day. Perhaps that would make things clearer. As she drove into the quiet estate and saw her own house, the warm centre of her life, she was tempted to forget all about Gloria Hathaway, not turn up tomorrow, and cancel the arrangement. But then she remembered how much she knew already and what new avenues might open up. Was it her duty to continue? She couldn’t decide, and then thought of Cowgill’s casual warning. She might be in danger herself. The murderer might strike a second time.
¦
Wednesday dawned with a clear, pale blue winter sky. The sun sparkled on the early morning frost in the gardens of Tresham’s Churchill Estate, and Derek leaned out of the bedroom window to breathe in the clean air. A line from a school poem of Josie’s ran through his head: “And chimney cowls like little owls, turn in the morning air.” Lovely, that was. He’d seen one of those turning cowls somewhere on his travels. Farnden, it was. Yes, it was in Lois’s cleaning village. Now which house? He’d done work in several of them. Ah yes, that was it, Miss Hathaway’s. The chocolate-box cottage belonging to poor old Gloria. Well, she wasn’t poor and she wasn’t old, but she was certainly dead, mused Derek with a sigh.
“You at the nurse’s this morning, Lois?” Derek thought he should show some interest, though he was determined to keep any discussion of Farnden to a minimum.
“Yes, as usual on a Wednesday.” Lois was sharp, still in a gloomy mood from yesterday’s confused deliberations. “I shall be a bit late back. Got some shopping to do.” She hadn’t told him about the meeting in Gloria’s cottage. There were quite a few things she hadn’t told Derek about her investigations. She knew he was getting fed up with it all and had lately changed the subject every time she opened it. Now she didn’t try. Well, that was all right. Naturally a bloke didn’t want his brains bothered after a hard day’s work. All he asked for was a good tea, feet up and the television on. If the kids needed help with their homework, he was always willing, but even that was getting difficult for him now they were older. Education was a very different thing from when he was a lad.
“I’ll get me own dinner, then,” he said. “Working in Tresham today, so I could go to the pub and have a sandwich.”
“You needn’t make it sound like a penance,” said Lois. “No doubt a pint or two will go down well with the sandwich.”
“Blimey! What’s eating you this morning? Better go back to bed and get out my side. Anyway, I’m off. See you at teatime.”
He left without kissing her goodbye and this added to the dismal beginning to Lois’s day. She’d be better out of it. Leave it to the police and those who know how to go about it all. Floundering about, she thought. That’s me, and I could be doing more harm than good.
Her mother bore off the kids, with Josie lagging behind, not wanting to be seen in the company of her grandmother. Lois had noticed Josie was quiet this morning. She’s got the hump too, she thought, same as me. Poor kid. Lois remembered the pangs of first love only too well. She emptied the kitten’s tray into the back garden
