Fifteen years old was still childhood.
“I keep thinking about Hazel’s dad,” Josie said. “I didn’t like him, but he was her dad. Why would anyone want to kill him, Mum?” She was near to tears, and Lois stretched her hand out across the table.
“We don’t know yet, love,” she said. “But they’ll find the killer. Nothing surer…very few get away with it.”
“They haven’t got the bloke who killed that major over at Waltonby, have they,” said Josie flatly. “Was he something to do with Hazel’s dad?” she added, sniffing loudly.
Lois shook her head. If only she knew! Then she could tell Cowgill, and the whole bloody mess would be cleared up. They sat quietly, holding hands across the table, for a few minutes, and then Josie spoke again. “Mum,” she said, and hesitated.
“Yep, what?” said Lois.
“They were talking on the bus today,” Josie continued.
“O ‘course everybody knew about it. One of the boys said his mum knew the major. At some drama thing in Tresham. Said he reckoned he was gay and that’s why he got killed. Jealousy, an’ that.”
“But…” said Lois, wondering what to say to this, “but what about him fancying young girls? I thought that was the gossip about the major?” So this was what they talked about on the school bus. Well, they’d done the same in her day, swapping scurrilous stories and one-upping each other, getting wilder all the time.
“Oh, you mean Prue Betts,” said Josie knowledgeably. “Yeah, well, she was asking for it. Not as goody-goody as you think, Mum. She was one of the gang.”
“What gang?” said Lois sharply.
“Oh, you know, clubbin’ and dabblin’ in this an’ that. They think they’re so clever that nobody knows. But it’s all over the school. We all know who they are, and where they get it from. You can smell it sometimes. Soon as we get off the bus one of the boys lights up.”
Lois knew better than to ask which boy. “What d’you mean, you know where they get it from?” she said, very wide awake now.
“Oh, Mum,” said Josie wearily, “it’s not that difficult. All the gang put money in, and one of the boys buys the stuff. Then they share it out.”
“But do the teachers know?” said Lois, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. She knew Josie would clam up at the slightest hint that her mother might take some action.
Josie shrugged her shoulders. “Dunno,” she said. “If they do know, they don’t do nuthin’.”
Silence descended again. Then Lois made up her mind. “Josie,” she said. “I know you’ve got more sense than to join any bloody gang, so I’m going to tell you something that you probably know already. There’s no future in drugs. Don’t believe anybody who tells you otherwise.”
“Dad uses drugs,” said Josie stubbornly.
“What?” snapped Lois.
“He drinks, don’t he? And he used to smoke. I’ve seen him pretty drunk once or twice, so what’s the difference?” Josie looked at her mother’s face, and relented. “Anyway, Mum, you can save your breath. Me and the others don’t touch the stuff. Don’t need it, thank God, though it’s been offered plenty enough times. You can stop worrying about that. And what I just said about Dad…I know you think there’s a difference. I’m not sure, but I’ll take your word for it for now.” She stood up, came round to Lois and gave her a hug. “Night, Mum,” she said. “See you in the morning.”
Lois nodded, and walked over to the armchair. “Move over, Melvyn,” she said, and sat down beside him, wiping away sudden tears. After a while, she dozed off, and that was where Derek found her when he came down in the morning.
¦
As she drove through the park to Dalling Hall, Lois caught sight of the church, solid and safe-looking in the distance. She remembered reading in history lessons that at one time you could get sanctuary in a church. Once inside with the door shut, nobody could touch you. But that wasn’t why they put the major in the church, that was for sure. He was there so he couldn’t touch anybody outside. He was dead for that reason, probably.
She stopped the car at the end of the footpath to the church, and got out. She was early anyway, and a few minutes wouldn’t make any difference. Hazel would carry on without her. It occurred to Lois that Hazel might not turn up after all, but she would discover that soon enough.
The narrow oak door was ajar, and Lois hesitated. It was early in the day, surely, for the church to be open? She pushed the door and looked in. At first she couldn’t see much in the gloom. She walked down the steps and stood still until her eyes adjusted. Then she saw she was not alone. The shadowy shape of a man came into focus, in the far corner, where one of the less elaborate of the tombs of the Dallings seemed to have its lid standing on end, propped up. The man was as motionless as she was.
“Who’s that?” Lois said, her voice strong and impatient. She’d had enough of shadows and mystery. There was no answer, but the shape moved, and as he came into the light from one of the high-up windows, Lois could see he was big and bulky. The light caught the top of his shaved head, and his expression was not friendly.
“Get out!” he said. “If yer know what’s good for yer, get out!” he repeated.
“Sod you!” said Lois. “I’ve got as much right as you…” She just had time to see him taking off his jacket before he was on to her, and she could neither see nor breathe.
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Twenty-Two
“Well, well,” said Joanne Murphy, teetering on high heels and arms akimbo, “so who have we here? I’ll be buggered if it’s not Mrs Mop herself!”
Lois spluttered, getting her breath. She could still taste the sourness of the man’s jacket. He’d put it over her head and squeezed, and then unaccountably let go suddenly, pushing her back so that she landed on a pew, gasping and rubbing her eyes. Of course, now she saw why she had been released. Joanne Murphy had arrived in the nick of time. An unlikely rescuer, but Lois thanked God she’d appeared. Her head felt muzzy, but it occurred to her straight away that Murphy must have some authority over the gorilla who was now sidling back towards the open tomb.
“Get that sorted, Tony,” Joanne said sharply, and then turned back to Lois, who was trying to stand up. No bloody Joanne Murphy was going to talk to her like that. But she was pushed back roughly into the pew. “Just a minute, I’ve got something to say to you before you go anywhere.” The brassy blonde wig shone in the light coming from the upper window, and Lois noticed heavy make-up, transforming the sluttish woman she remembered from their first encounter. Perhaps she should pretend dizziness, let her speak and see what came out.
“God knows what you’re doin’ here,” said Joanne.
Big Tony in the corner sniggered. “That’s good, Jo,” he said, “yer know, this bein’ a church an’ that…”
She ignored him, and continued to stare at Lois. “You’re in the way, Mrs Mop,” she said. “We can’t ‘ave you bustin’ in ‘ere, interruptin’ a bit o’ business between me and Tony.”
Lois shook her head, as if to clear it, and said nothing. This was like something out of a bad movie. She hoped it would have a happy ending.
“Now this is what you’re gonna do,” continued Joanne. “We’ll let you go, and you’ll forget you ever saw us. Forget
Still Lois said nothing, but if Joanne Murphy had bothered to notice Lois’s change of expression, her cockiness might have been somewhat dented. But she noticed no change, because she was high on triumph and revenge.
“So clear off,” she said, “and don’t you bloody well forget what I said. Go on, bugger off!”
Lois stood up. She finally had words for Joanne Murphy and her henchman: “Touch my kids,” she said, and her voice was cold and clear, “and you’re dead.” And then she walked swiftly out of the church.
¦
