It had to be sex. One single woman living alone and, as Lois knew, one who was more than willing. So far, so clear. Lois was beginning to have more than glimmerings of what exactly had been going on.
Her thoughts were roughly interrupted by the Barratts’ front door being jerked open as she walked up the path to the house.
“Lois! I thought you said you weren’t coming back!” It was Malcolm, still in his pyjamas, feet bare and hair wild. “Thank God,” he continued. “I had no idea what to say to Rachel if you didn’t turn up…come on in, woman, quickly.” He took her hand and pulled her into the house, releasing her at once when he saw her face. “Sorry! Sorry! No offence…Now listen, quickly, before Rachel comes down.” He followed her into the kitchen and shut the door.
“I know now it wasn’t you. It was Rachel, sifting through my papers. Tidying them, she said. Saw that name and number and tried it out. Big scene! But it’s all sorted out and if you could forget our little contretemps the other day, I’d be eternally grateful…
“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Lois, turning her back on him. She began collecting her cleaning things, and added, “I shan’t say nothing. But if you ever try anything on again – ”
He put up his hand, as if to ward off a blow. “Never! Trust me, Lois. Friends again?” His smile was sickly and anxious. Sounds of footsteps down the stairs sent him charging out of the kitchen, and Lois heard voices, not raised, but some commonplace interchange. Then Rachel came into the kitchen.
“Morning, Lois. Are you feeling better?” Lois did not know what to say to this, but presumed that Malcolm had made illness an excuse for the lack of cleaning done last week.
She nodded. “Fine, thanks,” she said.
The morning passed slowly. With Rachel back in full control, the house was clean before Lois began. But why should she worry? Rachel had asked her to go over the inside of the bedroom windows, so she began on the big bedroom which overlooked the main street. As she worked, her eye was caught by a couple of figures standing on the doorstep of Dr Rix’s house. One was Keith Simpson, she was sure. He had a peculiarly upright stance that matched his official language and his undoubtedly righteous nature. The other, she now saw, was Detective Inspector Cowgill. Lois’s heart sank. The door opened, and she saw the two men disappear inside. If only she could hear what was being said. And yet…she was glad that she could not. Of all the people involved in what she now thought of as a conspiracy to murder, Dr Rix was the one who concerned her most. She was sure that whatever his involvement, it was not a cruel or violent one. A man who on almost every occasion had been kind and considerate to Lois, with an excellent reputation in the village, could only have been caught up against his will, surely?
As she moved on to the next room, again with windows facing the road, Lois was so astonished at what happened next that she dropped her duster out of the open window on to the flowerbed beneath. The doctor had appeared at the door, with Keith and the Inspector on either side, and they were clearly
Lois rushed downstairs and out to the gate. What am I doing? she thought, as she watched the police car drive off slowly and then disappear up the Tresham road, villagers outside the shop staring as it passed, She had a mad impulse to stop the car, demand an explanation. How stupid, she thought, as she retrieved her duster from the flowerbed. Poor Mary Rix. Lois walked back into the house, holding out her duster in explanation, and met Rachel coming into the hall with a vase of fresh flowers.
“Everything all right, Lois?” she said brightly. She laughed when Lois told her about dropping the duster and said they might as well have coffee now, while Lois was downstairs.
As Rachel set out mugs and biscuits, Malcolm’s footsteps came thudding down from the attic to the kitchen, his face showing an expression of pure panic.
“Got to go out!” he said.
“But your coffee…?” Rachel turned in surprise.
“Later,” he said. “Shan’t be long…just thought of some…er…parish matter…urgent…catch Nurse Surfleet before she goes off on her…”
He was gone before Rachel could reply, and she shrugged. “I don’t know, Lois,” she said. “Men…I’ll never understand them.”
But Lois was beginning to understand only too well. She had remembered that the attic study windows also overlooked the road.
¦
Malcolm returned very soon from his flying visit looking haunted.
“Not at home,” he said briefly, as he passed Rachel in the hall, and retreated to his study, banging the door behind him. Lois heard the telephone ping once as the study extension was lifted, but the faint murmur of Malcolm’s conversation was too far away for her to hear his words. She noticed that Rachel was singing in the sitting room, rearranging cushions and ornaments from where Lois had just put them, apparently oblivious of her husband’s drama.
The morning finally ended and Lois breathed a sigh of relief as she went towards her car. Then her heart lurched; there was someone sitting in it, in the passenger seat. She promised herself that once this whole business was sorted out, she would never set foot in Farnden again. Then she saw that it was Mary Rix and she knew that there might, after all, be something she could do, if only listen.
¦
The deserted wood was chilly, but Lois still had the rugs in the car that she had taken on the long journey to retrieve Josie. Wrapped in these, she and Mary Rix sat on the broad tree stump, and Mary talked while Lois listened.
“They’ve taken Andrew for questioning, they said,” she began. “I don’t know what that means, but they said they’d bring him back. Everything’s going round and round in my head and I can’t tell anyone else,” she continued, close to tears.
“Go on, I’ll help if I can,” said Lois quietly.
Mary looked at her gratefully and continued, “I don’t really know how many were involved in the village. It was so awful, Lois. Like something in one of those films. At first I couldn’t believe it. Not Gloria Hathaway, surely, I thought. But she was wicked, you know. That’s the only word for it. Prim and proper on the outside, certainly. She could play the innocent spinster better than anyone I knew. Of course, when we first came to Farnden she was quite young. Never seemed to have any real job, yet always had plenty of money. Cars, holidays, clothes. We all wondered about it, but Andrew told me not to gossip. None of our business, he said. Well, that was a joke.”
She was silent then, and Lois shifted around to make herself more comfortable. “Why was that, Mary?” she said gently.
“Because he was the first,” she said and then began to cry in earnest. “All those consultations and visits, when she was perfectly well. Nothing wrong with her at all. Perfect excuse!”
“Did you say anything to him?” Lois was aware that there must be so much to tell. They couldn’t stay in this wet, cold place much longer. But she dare not interrupt Mary, in case she should think twice about confiding in her.
“He just laughed, then got cross. Said I was a jealous woman and if I wanted to save our marriage I should get things into perspective. It was around the time of my last pregnancy and I’d just lost the baby. I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel.”
“Did you ever have any proof that he was carrying on with Gloria?” Lois was trying hard to keep a level head. She knew that anyone who had been in such an emotional turmoil could not be entirely reliable.
Mary stared at her. “Of course,” she said simply. “There was the other baby – ” Crack! She was interrupted suddenly by a gunshot behind them. Both of them leapt to their feet, and clutching rugs around them, stumbled out of the wood and into Lois’s car. Mary Rix’s face was white and she was trembling. Lois took several deep breaths and turned the key to start the engine. It spluttered and died. Twice more she tried, with the same result.
“Damn!” she murmured. “Give it a minute or two and I’ll try again.”
She looked into the wood fearfully. How could anybody have known they were there? By her car, of course. She’d made no attempt to conceal it.
“Lois! Look! There’s someone coming!” Mary fumbled for the door catch, as if to run.
“Hey, wait,” said Lois. “Aren’t they rabbits?” The man came closer, gun held in the safe position, a pair of limp, dead rabbits in his hand. They sat as if frozen in the car and watched him approach. He glanced at them curiously, then nodded. Lois wound down the window. “Morning,” she said shakily. “Just trying to start the car. I
