went. Perhaps he had something to hide. Perhaps he would wait behind the door and hit her over the head with the headmaster’s cane as she went in…
One bedroom door was closed. That must be Prue’s. Mrs Betts had warned her that nobody was allowed in there. Everything was now done upstairs, except hoovering the landing. She switched on, and did not hear when Mr Betts lifted the telephone. Time for a cup of tea. She supposed she should ask him if he wanted one, and approached his door. It was ajar, and she pushed it open tentatively. Then she saw that he was talking with his back to her, looking out of the window. She heard him say, “Right then, Needham, be there at six thirty sharp,” and then he turned around and saw her.
“Did nobody teach you to knock at a private door, woman?” he exploded.
“I’m sorry?” said Lois. “Are you speaking to me?”
“Well, who else? There is nobody else!”
“I see,” said Lois icily. “I wondered if you thought I was your wife.” She let this sink in, and then added, “I’m making a cup of tea, as instructed, and thought you might like one.”
Mr Betts sat without speaking, his colour rising. “Um, well,” he said, “er, well, thank you, Mrs Meade. But I must be getting back to the school. Excuse me,” he added, and brushed past her. She heard him going out of the back door and along the path to the school.
Right, thought Lois, now’s my chance. She began to dust around the study, carefully examining everything she found. “Needham,” she muttered to herself. She knew only one Needham, and that, of course, was Gary.
The house was very quiet. In the past, when Lois had been cleaning on her own, she would put on the radio if she was alone in a house. She had to be careful, though, as some clients seemed to know immediately if their radios had been touched, even though Lois made sure she put everything back as she found it. But this house was definitely not one to trifle with. Except that here I am, she thought guiltily, trifling away like anything.
She went through the pile of papers on Mr Betts’s desk one by one. Nothing much there. All domestic bills, angry correspondence with insurance companies, and lists of educational books. At the bottom of the filing tray, however, there was something interesting. A brightly coloured travel brochure, featuring holidays in the Bahamas, Haiti, and far-flung Rio de Janeiro. Several of these had been marked in pen with a cross. Fancy that, thought Lois. The Betts’s were the last people she would have expected to go to such places. The Lake District or Yorkshire moors were more in their line, surely. Perhaps the old fool was planning a romantic surprise holiday. And pigs might fly. She replaced everything with great care, and then turned to the bookshelves. She put out a hand to take a book entitled
There was a sound, a creak outside in the hallway. In the silent house it was deafening, and Lois’s heart began to race. If it was Mr Betts returning, why was he creeping about in his own home? It could be an intruder, hoping for a quick looting and then escape. Or…oh God, please not, not the Gorilla…
The creak again, and then the door of the study moved a fraction. She hadn’t latched it properly. She stared now, transfixed and unable to move. It opened another inch, then two or three, and from behind the desk she could see nothing. Whoever was behind the door was keeping well out of sight. Lois picked up a heavy glass paperweight, and moved fast. As she rounded the corner of the desk, her foot hit something soft.
“Yiaow!”
Lois was quick, but not quick enough to catch a ginger cat that wheeled around and was out of the door and gone before she could grab it.
With shaking hands, Lois put the paperweight back, and sat down heavily in Mr Betts’s leather-covered chair. After a minute or so, she took a deep breath, and continued to clean. Guilty conscience, she told herself. Snooping is the first sin in New Brooms’s rule book. Nevertheless, she was extremely thorough in finishing Mr Betts’s study, but nothing suspicious turned up. From the neat row of labelled files in the cupboard, and books arranged alphabetically in the bookshelves, she guessed he was a very methodical man, and would be unlikely to leave on view anything he didn’t want seen. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” she said under her breath. She finished the room, and shut the door behind her. Only the kitchen left to do now. She looked at her watch. A quarter of an hour to go. Ten minutes should be enough to finish the cleaning, and then she’d have five minutes or so to check everything was neat and tidy.
Dusters and polishes put away, the coast was clear. Lois found herself going upstairs once more. She walked slowly along the landing, and idly tried the handle on Prue’s bedroom door, and pushed. It opened. So Prue had not locked it, after all…she must have been in a hurry to catch the bus. Lois tiptoed inside, though there was nobody to hear her. The cat had made her nervous. It was the usual teenage centre of chaos. Clothes on every surface, make-up scattered over the dressing table, jars with lids off; and by the wall, Prue’s bed, unmade, a mountain of duvet and pillows.
Only a couple of minutes more, and then Lois would have to leave. She had no doubt that old Betts was at the school window, watching out for her. She turned to go, and her eye was caught by a half-open cupboard door. Jeans were carelessly slung over a hanger, and something protruded from a pocket. Lois gingerly extracted a packet of cigarette papers. She sniffed around, and carefully put it back again.
So, Prue was smoking, and judging by the faint but sweet, lingering smell, it was not tobacco you could buy over the counter in the village shop.
¦
As she drove home, Lois reviewed what she had found. Nothing much, really. Prue pursuing her own life, Mr Betts nervous and bad-tempered and dreaming of holidays under exotic skies, and Mrs Betts defensive and determined to keep up appearances.
And the appointment with Gary Needham. Six thirty sharp. Back in her office, Lois looked at the New Brooms schedules. Gary was working this afternoon for a bachelor in Fletching. He would be through by five o’clock, and back home by half past. If he went home, that is. He could be meeting old Betts anywhere. When she rang his house at six thirty, he answered the telephone. So it wasn’t today. She made up some excuse for calling him, and then decided to shut down for the day, join Gran and the kids and Derek, and concentrate on the family.
“Here you are, then, me duck,” said Derek, stretching out a hand from his prone position on the sofa. “Come and give us a kiss.”
“Oh God!” said Josie. “You two are the only old people I know who still snog in public.”
When Gran roared with laughter, all three kids looked at her in surprise.
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Forty-Two
As Lois and Gran – the latter dressed to kill for their night out at the theatre – drove into Tresham, Lois was quiet, sorting out unconnected snippets of fact and suspicion, hoping something would emerge tonight to tie them all together.
“You all right, Lois?” said her mother finally, having failed to get a conversation going.
“Fine,” said Lois. “Look, there’s a space. We’ll park here and walk round the corner. It’s not far.”
The little foyer was crowded, with loud voices greeting each other across the milling theatre-goers. More like a club, really, thought Lois, guiding her mother across to where they had to pick up their tickets. Local worthies supporting their friends and relations. No doubt it was the thing to do in the Tresham culture set. Well, they were welcome to it, on the whole. Mind you, both she and Derek had loved that last thing. A good laugh, and no mistake. She was not so sure about tonight.
“Right, Mum,” she said, “let’s find our seats.”
“Can’t we have a drink first?” said her mother, glancing round at gins and tonics being consumed at a great rate. “Oh, come on, Lois, let me treat you.”
Lois looked at Gran. Her face was carefully made up, and she’d been to the hairdresser that morning. Her shoes were killing her, Lois knew, but she was determined to be smart. This was supposed to be a treat, Lois reminded herself, and felt ashamed.
“No, you’re spending nothing, Mum,” she said, and smiled. “What’ll you have?”
By the time they took their seats in the glowing red velvet interior, Lois’s mother was already having a great
