speaking, and the poor boys were creeping around looking scared.
Lois’s anger had evaporated and with it her courage to face whatever Derek had to tell her. Now, all she wished for was to discover that everything had been a bad dream. Her mother, when she arrived, looked at her hard and asked what was wrong, but was sensible enough not to pursue it. The last thing Lois wanted was to go to Farnden and hear Evangeline Baer rabbiting on about her fall, and how kind Dallas had been to her afterwards. And then, of course, the murder. It was still the favourite topic of conversation in Farnden. The gallery was still closed and Evangeline would be under her feet all round the house.
Dallas might even be there, too. He had taken time off after Evangeline’s fall. Still, he was probably back at work by now and she could get rid of Evangeline by cleaning around her feet. It might cheer her up to bruise a few ankles.
Lois opened her front door and was making her way to the car when she saw the inspector, tall and smartly dressed, approaching.
“Morning, Mrs Meade,” he said formally. “Have I missed your husband again?” He saw the expression on Lois’s face and came quickly to the point. “We’re keeping the jacket just for the moment, but perhaps you’d ask him to call in at the station for a couple of minutes. This evening,” he added firmly. “About six-thirty would be fine.” He turned on his heel and left Lois standing quite still on her path.
What now? Should she try to get hold of Derek at work and warn him? But what would be the use of that. And anyway, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get involved with this problem, right now. Let him sort it out. She might just as well carry on, use Evangeline Baer as a distraction, and earn her money. Lois drove off, grating her gears and moving forward in a series of painful jerks.
“Most unlike you to be late, Lois!” Evangeline Baer tried her best to make it sound humorous. But really, she could not allow this to go on. She limped away from the kitchen, but not quickly enough.
“Perhaps you’d rather I didn’t come any more,” Lois said in a harsh voice. She had had enough and at that moment would have been quite happy not to set foot in Farnden ever again.
“Hell!” said Evangeline under her breath. Then louder, “Of course I don’t want you to leave. And it doesn’t matter anyway. The gallery is closed, but when it opens up again, you know I rely on you to be here at nine o’clock sharp to take over the house. Can’t manage without you,” she added with a forced laugh.
Yes, well, I’m fed up with being indispensable, thought Lois. Her confidence had taken a nasty knock in the last twenty-four hours, and she shook her head. “You’d manage,” she said. “Is Mr Baer at home? Shall I start in his room?” Dallas kept what he called his den for getting away from Evangeline, though he claimed he brought work home and needed a quiet room on his own. He was not there this morning.
“Dallas has gone to London on business,” volunteered Evangeline, following on Lois’s heels, as anticipated. She seemed about to say more, but a loud sigh made her hesitate.
Lois followed up the sigh with a request for more bags for the cleaner, “I did ask you last week.” Then switched on the cleaner and zoomed so close to Evangeline’s feet that she retreated rapidly, saying she had some letters to write and would Lois make her own coffee, as the letters would take a long time.
“Serious business,” she said, smiling hopefully from the doorway.
Stupid old bat, I don’t know what she’s talking about, thought Lois, and bashed the cleaner against a table leg without caring.
It would all have become quite clear to Lois if she had been able to look over Evangeline’s shoulder. The words almost leapt off the page with joy.
The letter covered three pages and took most of the morning to write. When Lois brought the coffee, Evangeline covered the writing with her hand, but realized too late that Lois was irritated by this. How unfortunate! Evangeline had planned to tell Lois the wonderful news over a companionable mid-morning break, but somehow it had gone wrong. Lois was banging about in a bad temper and Evangeline had no wish to spoil her own elation by listening to tales of woe from her cleaner. No, it would have to wait until next week. Meanwhile, she must start on another letter to her old school friend in Sydney. Goodness, wouldn’t
¦
By six o’clock in the evening, Lois was shaking with nervous anticipation of Derek’s return from work. She had to tell him what Inspector Cowgill had said and feared his reaction. She wished now she had rung him on his mobile and got it over with earlier.
“Mum, what’s up with you and Dad?” It was Josie, dressed in funereal black, draped round the newel post at the foot of the stairs. “You’ve hardly spoken for days, and me and the boys are upset. We think we ought to know.”
Lois snapped. “Oh, I see,” she said icily. “You think you ought to know, do you, Miss.” Josie nodded, frowning at her mother’s tone. “Well, perhaps your father and I ought to know why you’ve been going round like a bloody wet week of Sundays ever since that bugger left town!”
Her mother’s swearing was so excessive that Josie began to feel a twinge of fear. Was there something seriously wrong? Her imagination flitted through images of kids at school whose parents had split up, kids from broken homes, lost, miserable, dopey kids. “I only asked, Mum,” she said in a quavering voice.
Lois glared at her, and then collapsed into a chair. “Come here, Josie,” she said, shaking her head in self- disgust. “Come here, baby.” Josie went to her mother and Lois put her arms around her daughter’s slender waist. “Sorry, love,” she said. “Things aren’t too good at the moment, but it’ll soon be sorted out. Don’t worry and I’ll tell the boys everything’s fine. We all have difficult days, don’t we?”
At this point, Derek came in, bag in hand, and over his shoulder was slung the waxed cotton jacket. “Hi, everybody,” he said. “Hi, Lois, Josie. What’re you two up to?”
Lois got up and held Josie’s hand for support. “Derek, the inspector was here again.”
“I know,” said Derek. “I called in at the cop shop on my way home. Time to get my jacket back, I thought. I saw him and we had a chat. All sorted out. So what’s for tea?” he added, but he would not meet Lois’s eye.
? Murder on Monday ?
Twenty-Eight
The weekend that followed was, on the face of it, no different from any other. Saturday afternoons were always taken up with football. Derek and the boys supported Tresham United and travelled around the local area decked out in cheerful red and white, joining their fellow supporters with an enthusiasm that was clearly not dependent on their team’s prowess, since Tresham United was bottom of the league. “Fair weather or foul, you got to be loyal,” preached Derek, regularly. Lois could rely on a peaceful afternoon at home or, occasionally, a shopping expedition with Josie. More often than not, though, Josie was off with her friends. It had probably been Melvyn when he’d been around, but now she was back with the gang of girls who’d been together since primary school.
On Sundays, none of them went to church. It was rare for anyone on the Churchill Estate to go to a church of any kind, though a big family at the end of Byron Way set off regular as clockwork, dressed in their best, to attend the Baptist Chapel in the town. If you happened to be passing during a service, Douglas had told Derek, you could hear them singing at the tops of their voices. “Talk about a row!” he’d said, but there’d been a wistful edge to his voice. There was joy in those voices and he wouldn’t have minded being a part of it. Derek had said no son of his was going to join the happy clappies, and that was that.
Lois had occasional thoughts of her own childhood, when she’d gone to the local Sunday school under protest. Had any of it rubbed off on her permanently? She doubted it. Often enough she’d heard Rev White bemoaning the tiny congregation in Long Farnden. She had once or twice asked him why people didn’t go to church any more, but he’d never given her a satisfactory answer.
Now, this Sunday, because this weekend
