“You all right, Mrs M?” Hazel was waiting for her at the hall, and frowned at Lois’s pale face.
“I’m OK,” said Lois. “How about you? And how’s your mum?” She had expected a call from the Readings, changing their minds about working on. But here was Hazel, neat and attractive, cleaning equipment in hand.
“Mum’s fine,” she said. “Well, you know, not fine, but coping. She’s gone to the vicarage, so she’ll be all right. He’s a nice old bloke, that vicar, and it’s quiet and peaceful there.”
Lois nodded. “Let’s get on then,” she said. “Sorry I’m late – got held up.” Well, that was true. She was still very angry, and noticed Hazel looking at her hands, which shook as she plugged in the cleaner. She was angry mostly with herself, for putting herself at the mercy of that ratbag. And that oaf, scrabbling away in the corner by the tomb – what the hell was he doing?
“Don’t you think so, Mrs M?”
“Sorry?” said Lois. “What did you say?”
“Are you
Lois nodded and managed a smile. “Yep,” she said, “now let’s get cleaning.” After a while, her swirling thoughts settled down to one question. How often was that church used? She walked down the long corridor to find Hazel, and asked if she knew. “Is the Waltonby vicar in charge of Dalling church as well?” Lois had judged her young cleaner accurately. When Hazel had first worked for the vicar, she had bombarded him with friendly questions, just to put him at his ease, she said. And so she knew precisely that he was indeed in charge, and took a service once a month at six o’clock in the evening for the few people scattered around in park houses and any odd guest from the hall.
“He told me he sometimes forgot, it not being very often, and then sometimes the man who was supposed to open up, he forgot his key. So it was all a bit unreliable. Anyway,” she added, “why d’you want to know about Reverend Rogers?” Hazel spoke casually, but Lois was acting strangely this morning, and Hazel was worried.
“Just wondered,” said Lois. “You know how if something bothers you, you have to find out. My mind wandering, that’s all.”
With promises from Hazel that she would let Lois know immediately if Bridie needed help, they parted after work and went their ways. Lois drove slowly past the church, looking to see if the big black car was still there. But of course it was not. They would have scarpered long since. She toyed with the idea of going back to look at that tomb in the corner, but decided against it. Everything would be back in place. No, she would go on home, get lunch for Derek, and consider what to do next. One thing was definite: the kids were going nowhere on their own from now on. They’d have to find some way of doing it without alarming them, but Lois did not trust Joanne Murphy one inch. She took her threat very seriously, and knew that as soon as possible she would have to alert Hunter Cowgill. A telephone call straight away was the best idea. She pulled over into a lay-by, and dialled his number.
¦
Cowgill sounded concerned, and assured Lois that everything necessary would be done to protect the kids. She worried about this, knowing that they could not be shadowed every hour of the day. Cowgill listened closely to what she had to tell him about the church, and agreed that a talk with the vicar would be a good idea. “Why don’t
“I’d rather lie low on that one,” he said unhelpfully.
“Huh!” said Lois. “Anyway, chances are he’s pretty ga-ga. That’s how Hazel sees him, anyway.”
“That one probably thinks anybody over forty is ga-ga,” said Cowgill, with amusement in his voice. “Just call in on some pretext – checking on Bridie’s work? – and have a chat.” Lois wondered at his apparent familiarity with Hazel, but then remembered that of course he’d had hours of conversation with her and Bridie about Dick’s death.
Early in the afternoon, Lois dialled the Waltonby vicarage number. “Christopher Rogers here,” said a gentle voice. Lois reminded him who she was, and said that she was interested in Dalling church. She wondered if he had any records, history, legends, anything like that. “Why, yes,” he said. “All churches have interesting records. Anything particular you were looking for?”
Lois cast about for something convincing. “Just the family, really,” she said. “I’m working at the hall and got interested. You know, how they lived and children dying young, an’ all that.”
“Why don’t you call in some time?” he said, just as Lois had hoped. “I could look out some papers.”
“Tomorrow?” said Lois swiftly. “About two o’clock?”
“Well…er…yes, that would be all right,” said Christopher Rogers.
“Thanks,” said Lois, and rang off.
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Twenty-Three
The vicarage at Waltonby was an impressive old house, all pinnacles and turrets, with a large garden and glebe meadow where a neighbour kept two engaging donkeys. The stonework of the house had mellowed pleasantly, and when the sun shone, it glowed as if blessed. For the Reverend Christopher Rogers, living in this idyll was not always so pleasant. Built for a cleric with private means and a staff of four or five to run the establishment, it had sadly deteriorated in a more atheistic age. Now he lived mostly in his kitchen and study, opening up the large, chilly drawing room only for Parochial Church Council Meetings and the occasional visit of the bishop. He was, fortunately, a keen gardener, and the approach along a short driveway welcomed visitors with flowers and shrubs. His vegetable garden provided him with a vital supplement to his regular diet of sausages and fish fingers.
His ordered routine had been temporarily disturbed by Hazel Reading, who had breezed through the house once a week, opening windows, rearranging papers, tidying books into the wrong places in bookshelves, and generally causing him to dread Fridays. But now her mother, Bridie, had taken over, and she was so quiet and considerate, always asking before attempting any reorganization, and Christopher Rogers was contented once more.
This morning, Bridie had made him his cup of milky instant coffee and brought it to him in the study. “I’ve put a couple of biscuits out for you,” she said, setting down the small tray on to his desk. “Anything else you need?”
What a pleasant woman, he thought, and how brave of her to turn up under the dreadful circumstances. “Thank you, my dear,” he said. “And I’m to see your boss this afternoon – quite a busy day for me!”
This was news to Bridie. Hazel had said something about Lois asking questions about the vicar, but she had thought nothing of it. She knew her work was satisfactory, because Father Rogers had said so, several times. He had been careful to stress that Hazel had been wonderful, too, but perhaps not quite right for an old codger like himself! Bridie could have told him it had been a big surprise to her that Hazel had wanted to work for New Brooms in the first place, let alone discover that the girl seemed to be enjoying it. She was, though, well aware that Hazel had stayed in Waltonby, doing a local job, primarily to defend her mother against a violent husband. Now that Dick was gone, in such unbelievable circumstances – she swallowed hard – she supposed Hazel would soon be off to pastures new.
“Well, I’m sure Lois won’t bother you,” she said now, smiling at Father Rogers. “She’s an old mate of mine, and one of the best.”
¦
By the time Lois lifted the heavy iron knocker on the vicarage door, Father Rogers had gathered together a few books and papers relating to Dalling Hall and its ancient church. He’d met Lois before, of course, when she came to arrange the cleaning service, and he would not have judged her a natural student of local history. A good- looking woman, brisk, efficient, obviously a good wife and mother, yes, all those things; but not…ah, well, you could never tell.
“Come in, come in,” he said, and Lois stepped into the tiled, dark hallway. It was cold, but Lois was glad to note that a fresh smell of polish and soap had taken over from the musty atmosphere that greeted her on her first visit.
“Everything all right with Bridie?” she asked, and smiled at the vicar’s enthusiasm. “Yes, well, I didn’t expect either Hazel or Bridie to work for a while, but they wanted to keep busy,” she added in answer to his solicitous enquiries.
