Hazel Reading sat in her car, waiting. She had parked up a side street, close by the little theatre, and locked herself in. It was growing dark, and she knew that anyone sitting in a car – especially a girl on her own – was not safe in this part of Tresham. She had arranged a meeting for nine o’clock, coinciding with the end of rehearsals, and kept her eye on the driving mirror.
It was about ten past nine when there was a tap on her window. She had seen him coming, and now unlocked the doors and motioned him to get in beside her. “Well?” she said.
“They’ve got rid of it,” he said. “It’ll never be found. They’ve done it before, and know the ropes. But what they don’t know,” he added, with the vestige of a smile, “is that I could trace it. No problem. I overheard JM talking to that gormless idiot backstage when they thought nobody was around. So it could be found. Trouble is, it wouldn’t take them long to guess who talked. I’m scared, Hazel, I don’t mind admitting. It’s getting very nasty.”
“Very nasty indeed,” said Hazel grimly. “And I – we – have to end it. I owe Mrs M. And so do you. You could’ve been out on your ear if she hadn’t given you another chance. So now we have to make a plan, get all the help we can, and fix ‘em. Right?”
“Right,” said Gary doubtfully. “Let me know. You’re the brains. Usual contact.”
He scrambled out of the car, and she watched him head back towards the theatre, his head down and his thin legs moving fast. You can see he’s scared, she thought. Sticks out a mile. Worst possible thing, with Joanne Murphy and her crew on the lookout.
¦
Next morning, Lois turned up as usual at the hall and met Hazel at the entrance. “You didn’t have to come, Mrs M,” Hazel said. “I could’ve managed…done a couple of extra hours. Are you sure you’re…” She stopped, smiled at the expression on Lois’s face, and said, “Come on, then, let’s get going.”
They worked in silence for most of the morning, and then finally, when they were putting away the cleaning tools, Lois said, “Hazel, we need to talk. Not now. I’m going straight into Tresham from here to see Derek. I rang earlier, and they said he was still out of it, but I just want to be there. So can you come round this evening? Eightish? It shouldn’t take long. I know some of it, and you know some of it, and we’ll get on a lot quicker if we work together. Forget Cowgill for the moment. He has his uses” – Hazel smiled broadly – “but I’ve got an idea of what we can do. It’ll need your help, and in particular anything you know that I don’t.”
Hazel nodded. “Righto,” she said. “Eight o’clock. I’ll be there. Give my love to Mr M…don’t matter if he don’t hear…just give it him.” A shadow crossed her face, and she turned away abruptly. “See you,” she muttered, and walked away swiftly.
Poor kid, thought Lois, walking into the car park. Not much of a life so far. But maybe it would get better once all this was sorted out. Bridie would make a new start, she was sure of that, and Hazel could shake the dust of Waltonby off her feet. She was a bright girl, full of spirit, and deserved a break.
As she drove into Tresham, she stopped at a flower shop and bought a couple of bunches of freesias. The scent filled the car. Lois hoped it might penetrate through to Derek. He’d always brought them for her into the hospital when the kids had been born. Freesias had meant something special. She remembered when that kid at Ringford Hall had pinched a load of them from the greenhouse and given them to Derek. He’d been really chuffed, and presented them to her as if he’d actually bought them.
Lois turned into the hospital car park. It’s not right, she thought, as she put money in the machine. It irked her that the authorities were taking money from people in trouble, visitors or outpatients who had no alternative but to park their cars here, the hospital being right in the middle of town where there was no possible other parking place. It’s a con, she said to herself, walking across and into the entrance. Intensive care: she followed the arrows and stopped at the reception desk.
The woman looked up at her unsmilingly. “Who?” she said.
“Derek Meade,” repeated Lois. Her heart had begun to race. Why didn’t she recognize the name? He must still be here. They’d said on the phone this morning that there had been little change. Oh my God, suppose he’d… But surely they’d have let her know…The woman consulted a list in front of her.
“Oh yes,” she said in a lofty voice, “you can go in…nurse is in there already. Know the way?”
Lois wanted to strike her, thump her as hard as she could, slap her round the face until she yelled for mercy. But she just nodded and walked on, down the corridor to where she knew Derek, her Derek, unrecognizable and absent, was lying. Not waiting for her, not expecting her, not full of things to tell her or questions about the kids. Just there.
“Ah, Mrs Meade,” said the kindly nurse. “What lovely flowers – you sit down here, and I’ll put them in water.”
Lois sat down beside Derek. He looked much the same, if a little paler and the shadows under his eyes deeper. She managed to quell the rising panic as she thought the unthinkable. Of course he was going to get better, come back home, go to work again. She reached out and put her hand on his, and thanked God that it was warm… alive.
The nurse returned with the freesias, now in an unsuitable orange pottery vase, but wafting their wonderful scent across the room. Lois smiled at her, showing that she was in control, not about to break down and become an embarrassment. The nurse left, and there were no sounds except the humming of machines and the bleep of the heart monitor which Lois tried unsuccessfully to blot out. Perhaps she should talk to him. Maybe he would be able to hear her, even though he seemed completely unconscious.
“It’s me,” she said tentatively. “It’s me, Lois. Sorry about all this, Derek,” she added, and forced back tears. “You’ll be OK soon,” she continued, gaining confidence. There was a young nurse over the other side of the room, attending to another patient, and neither were taking any notice of Lois. “I brought you some freesias,” she went on. “Can you smell ‘em? Not as good as those from Ringford Hall, but not bad.” She reached out and moved the flowers around, rearranging them.
Derek’s hand moved.
“Derek?” Her heart stopped and she breathed in sharply. She looked closely at his face, but his eyes were fast shut. Then his nose wrinkled. She daren’t move, but held his hand a little tighter. “Derek? It’s Lois…I’m here…”
The young nurse had come over now, looking intently at Derek. “Keep talking, Mrs Meade,” she said. “I’ll go and get Sister.”
Lois gabbled now, saying anything that came into her head, all kinds of rubbish about the kids and Gran. The sister appeared and stood silently at the foot of the bed. And then Derek opened his eyes. He looked straight at Lois, and, seeming to focus with difficulty, he said, “Good gel…” Then he sighed deeply, and his eyes closed again.
For one terrible moment Lois thought he’d gone for ever. But then she saw his breathing was regular, the bleeping steady, and the sister was smiling broadly. “Well done, Mrs Meade,” she said. “He’s going to be fine.”
“It was the flowers,” muttered Lois, as she fumbled for a tissue. “He could smell ‘em. The freesias…they’re special…” The nurse put a hand on her shoulder, assured her she could stay for as long as she liked, and then left her alone.
After a long time, Lois stood up. “Got to go now, Derek,” she said. She could have sworn his eyelids flickered. “See you tomorrow, boy…take care.” She walked out of the hospital without noticing anything, not even the old man in a wheelchair who used to live on the Churchill Estate, and waved a palsied hand at her. It was going to be all right. Derek was going to be all right.
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Thirty-One
At eight o’clock exactly Hazel’s car drew up outside Lois’s. She tapped lightly at the back door, then walked in. The kitchen was empty, except for Melvyn asleep in the big old chair. She could hear sounds from the television in the front room, and went through to find Lois. Douglas and Jamie were watching a cartoon, and Gran was reading the evening paper Lois had brought back from Tresham. Lois herself, and Josie, were not there.
Hazel cleared her throat and they all looked round in surprise. “Anybody could walk in here and steal the silver,” she said with a smile, and Gran got to her feet.
