She sat and thought for a few minutes, wondering why they’d asked her, when they must have regular people they used for this job all the time. Could Cowgill have had something to do with it? Or Hazel? She knew a great many young people in Tresham, and the agents’ girl had sounded young.
Or it could be, she told herself, that our reputation for doing a good job has spread far and wide, and there’s nothing more sinister to it than that.
She played the message again, wrote down the telephone number, and dialled it.
“Yes, we’d be glad to help,” she said to the girl. “I’ll come in tomorrow morning, and we can sort out the paperwork. Yes, we can do it straight away,” she added, and knew that somehow or other she would have to make time to do it herself. Then she remembered Derek coming home, and closed her eyes against the impossibility of fitting it all in.
“You asleep?” said Josie, coming in quietly. Lois opened her eyes. She looked at her daughter, tall and strong, capable and with nothing to do in the school holidays, and saw an answer. “No,” she said. “Just resting my eyes. Now, Josie, I want a word, so sit down over there and listen.”
Josie looked apprehensive. What had she done now? But then her mother began to talk, suggesting that if Josie liked the idea, she could help her in New Brooms until she went back to school.
“Hey, Mum, that’s a great idea!” Josie’s face was flushed with pleasure. She loved Gran, but was sick of cooking and washing-up. There was nothing to do in Long Farnden, and no means of getting into Tresham unless someone gave her lift. At least this would be getting around with Mum, and seeing some new people.
“We’ll have to check with Dad,” said Lois.
“Oh, he’ll agree,” said Josie confidently. “He’s always telling me to get out and earn a crust or two.”
“Ah, yes, well, it’ll just be pocket money, I’m afraid,” said Lois. “Rules and regs and all that. But I’ll make it worth your while. And just one thing,” she added.
Josie lifted her eyebrows. “Yes, boss?” she said cheekily. “You’ll have to do as you’re told. Without arguing. Have to pretend I’m not your mum.”
“Fine,” said Josie, “that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Thirty-Seven
Lois awoke to the sound of heavy rain beating against the window, and pulled the covers over her head. Early summer, and the usual reverse of flaming June. The day ahead loomed over Lois, with the excitement of Derek’s return a beacon in the gloom. She would need all her wits about her for the estate agents, who were said to pay peanuts. And then there’d be the unknown quantity of Josie doing a good cleaning job. She did precious little about the house, and Lois supposed that was her own fault. Gran had tried to teach her some domesticity, but it was a very reluctant Josie to be found standing at the ironing board. Still, the lure of money might make a difference.
The sound of the milk van chugging outside while deliveries were made up and down the street brought Lois out of a half-doze. Why couldn’t he park outside somebody else’s house? And half the time his milk went sour before they’d finished it. She had a good mind to get milk from the supermarket, but felt a grudging loyalty to a village service that some of the old people relied on. Oh, well, might as well get up. She slid out of bed and went to the window. The van had moved on, and the street was empty and grey, the rain slanting steadily across sodden gardens, and splashing into deep puddles punctuating the narrow High Street. Maybe we should have stayed in Tresham, Lois thought. Then I wouldn’t have got mixed up with all this major business, and Derek wouldn’t have had his accident. But then, looking at it straight, we’d still be crammed into a small council house, with the kids fighting for their private space and Derek losing his temper every ten minutes. And I wouldn’t have started New Brooms, and I’d still be a skivvy at everyone’s beck and call.
“Lois?” The door had opened quietly, and Gran stood there. “You all right, dear? I heard you moving about and it seemed very early…”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Just woke up early. The rain, I think. Might as well go down and make a cup of tea. D’you want one?”
Gran nodded, and said she’d come down too, and make a start on breakfast. “With Josie joining the work force, she’ll need something nourishing inside her,” she said firmly. She had given up trying to stoke up Lois with bacon and eggs. A piece of toast and cup of coffee was the most that she would have. Still, Derek would be back today, and Gran began planning happily all the appetising dishes she would make for him.
At eight o’clock, Gary was on the telephone, assuring Lois that he was perfectly restored and intending to work as usual. “They’ve got a new doctor at the surgery,” he said, “and Sheila and I have to give the old chap’s room an extra going over. And no, Mrs M, before you say anything, I am not intending to read any of the papers or lift any bottles or jars of substances when nobody’s looking.” He laughed a little, but Lois could tell he was deadly serious. Gary had had a fright, possibly several frights, and he seemed especially anxious to convince Lois of his respectability.
“Well, if you’re sure,” said Lois. “And anyway,” she added lightly, “you’ll be in the right place if you keel over again.”
As a safety measure, she quickly telephoned Sheila, told her what had happened to Gary, and asked her to keep an eye on him. “Will do,” said Sheila, “just on my way now. If anything goes wrong, I’ll report back.”
Josie had finished breakfast and was ready to go well before time. To Lois, she looked impossibly young to be cleaning at Dalling Hall, making beds, piling up sheets, emptying bins, sorting out disgusting bathrooms that a pig would have left in a better state. But this was just a try out, she comforted herself. Derek still had to agree to the plan, and it would be useful for them to have some idea of how Josie would shape up. She was fifteen, after all, and some girls were mothers at that age. Lois shivered. Prue Betts might have been a young mother if her own parents had been different, but the idea of Mr Betts tolerating a steadily ballooning daughter in the house without husband or support, was unimaginable.
“Come on, Mum, we’ll be late!” Josie stood by the car, waiting to be let in.
“It’s not locked,” said Lois.
“It won’t lock, you mean,” said Josie, settling in the passenger seat. “Why don’t you get yourself a decent car?”
“Because you lot take all my profits and more beside,” answered Lois equably. “I don’t care, anyway,” she added, “I like to help Dad with paying for Jamie’s bike, and Douglas’s football coaching.”
“And my ballet classes,” contributed Josie, and they both chuckled. The classes had been held round the corner on the Churchill Estate and Josie had attended as a plump six-year-old. In a rickety wooden hut that had seen better days as a Nonconformist chapel, an enthusiastic spinster, ballerina manque, held classes for the local children. She claimed to bring out grace and elegance in any child, but even she had to admit that Josie was never going to make it, except perhaps as a baby elephant in the end of term show. One term had been enough, and then any ambitions mother and daughter had entertained were forgotten.
“I liked the swimming, though,” said Josie, anxious to please. “We take it all for granted, don’t we,” she added, looking at Lois’s smiling face.
“Course you do. It’s natural. All kids do. When you’re a mum, you’ll do just the same for your kids, and they’ll be ungrateful as hell, just the same.”
Hazel had arrived at the hall, and was gathering equipment in the cleaning cupboard. “Hi, Josie!” she said, surprised. “You gonna help?” Lois thought it would be better to attach Josie to Hazel, rather than herself. She knew Hazel was tough enough to make sure Josie worked properly.
“It’s just a trial,” she said to Hazel, “so I want you to treat her like any new girl we might sign on.” And to Josie she said, “Now you do what Hazel tells you. She’s an expert, and you’re a raw recruit. No slacking, mind, and Hazel can give me a report at the end of the morning.”
Lois deliberately organized the work so that she was at the other end of the hall, and did not see the others until they met in the cleaning cupboard for coffee.
“She’s doing OK,” said Hazel.
“Honest?” said Lois.
“Honest,” said Hazel. “You know I always tell the truth.” Josie nibbled a biscuit and looked at Hazel with
