? Terror on Tuesday ?
Five
Joanne Murphy, now dressed in a low-necked, tightly-fitting top and brief miniskirt, jumped off the bus and patted her hair back into its shining blonde beehive. She had bought the wig in one of those dodgy joke shops in Adam and Eve Street, and was very fond of it. As she’d said to her neighbour, it covered a multitude! She walked with quick, small steps on very high heels, and in five minutes turned into the yard of Tresham’s self-proclaimed oldest pub, the Tresham Arms. She left her jacket in the staff cloakroom, indulged in some sharp banter with the barman in the Lords and Ladies bar, and clacked along the stone hallway to the Coachman’s, where, she was delighted to see, stood her old friend, Major Todd-Nelson.
“Good morning, my dear!” he said, with a fractional bowing of his head. Oh, how she loved to be treated with some respect for once.
Joanne adjusted her neckline, and put on her listening face. “And how is Major this morning?” she said, pouring deftly, and out of sight, a glass of neat vodka which, had she been challenged, she would have said at once was water.
“Much better for seeing you,” he said gallantly. This was partly what he came for. His regular glass of Teacher’s gave him a welcome lift, but an hour or so of sophisticated attention from this fine young woman would keep him going for several days. He admitted secretly to himself that there was something special about the innocent, fresh charms of young Prudence at the Waltonby pub, but this splendid woman in front of him, leaning on her arms on the bar and showing him a rounded plumpness that would haunt his dreams, was the real thing.
¦
By evening, the major was back home, and Joanne Murphy was once more in thrall to the television, having forgotten all about her abortive attempt to become a cleaner.
In the Waltonby village schoolhouse, Prudence Betts’s parents were having their customary conversation about Prue working at the pub in the evenings. Although the village had been proudly labelled one of the safest in the country, they felt uneasy until she was safely home in bed. And then there were the increasing number of occasions when she was very late – once it was one thirty in the morning – and when they complained, she always had a legitimate excuse ready. It was a special evening of Thai food, with mountains of washing-up; or shortages of staff; or extra training from Geoff Boggis. This last one raised their suspicions, and they asked one or two pertinent questions, but Prue had always been very good at giving away the least possible information with apparent total lack of guile.
“It’s all good experience, Dad,” she’d said. “You say you want us to see all sides of life. That’s why you are teaching in the state system, you said, didn’t you? Anyway, Auntie Betty keeps an eye on me.”
Her father sighed. You brought up your children to be articulate and questioning, and then it all bounced back at you, when you could have done with a bit of good old-fashioned respect and truthfulness to parents, and obedience and duty, and all of that.
“Very well, Prue,” he had said, “but we expect you to behave in a responsible way, and to be honest and straightforward with us, as we try to be with you.”
Yuk! thought Prue, but smiled meekly and said, “Don’t forget, Dad, that Prue is an anagram of ‘pure’.” This witticism reduced her mother to apprehensive alarm, and sure enough her father glared at her.
“That’s enough, Prue,” he said. “Just bear in mind what I have said.”
¦
It was a busy evening, and both Prue and Hazel were needed behind the bar, to cope with the increased demands of a darts needle match between Long Farnden and Waltonby.
The pub was already filling up when Prue arrived, and Hazel waved cheerily, continuing her conversation with a couple of young farmers from the Long Farnden team. The two girls served beers and shorts non-stop for four hours, and then finally the victorious team made a noisy exit, followed by the more subdued Waltonby Arrows, who were boozily promising revenge.
“OK for you two girls to stay extra time to clear up?” said Geoff Boggis, winking at three of the older farmers, who had quickly enlightened the landlord on the time-honoured custom of drinking after hours in a small room at the back of the pub. They had a stack of doubtful videos with which they rounded off a jolly evening, and the girls were told to keep their eyes closed and mouths shut.
Halfway through the mound of stacking and drying, Hazel changed the subject of conversation from fanciable young farmers to her latest idea for annoying her father. “You know that Lois Meade – wife of Derek, who comes in here – at Long Farnden? Her that’s a friend of my mum?”
Prue nodded. She had chatted to Lois on the odd occasion in the pub, and had liked her. “Didn’t know she was your mum’s friend, though,” she said.
“Went to school together,” said Hazel, and laughed. “They claim they were trouble, but I reckon it weren’t much more than shopliftin’ a few sweets from Wool worths.”
“Anyway, what about Mrs Meade?” said Prue, trying not to yawn. She would not admit it to Hazel, but she was tired and thought longingly of her comfortable bed in the old schoolhouse.
“Starting a cleaning business, isn’t she,” said Hazel. “My mum’s going to be one of the cleaners. Heard her telling Dad. He hit the roof, of course, but she means to do it. The thought that she might bring a bit of extra into the house smoothed him down.”
“And?” said Prue, thinking that all this was pretty boring.
“And I’m thinking of doin’ it too. Dad’ll be furious,” Hazel added happily. “He wants me to go to college, or get a proper job. The usual thing. But I reckon it’d be really interesting, going to other people’s houses and that. Mum’s always made me clean up, so I know how. And I could fit in working here as well. What d’you reckon?”
This question was a formality, of course. Hazel did not rate Prue’s advice on anything, and in any case had quite made up her mind. She had good reasons for wanting to stay around locally, not least because she was not at all sure what would happen to her mother if she left.
Prue said she couldn’t think of anything worse than cleaning up other people’s mess, and advised Hazel that she’d much better go to college and get some qualifications. She could hear her father’s voice in her own, and was aware that Hazel was not even listening. “Still,” she said, “I expect you’ll do what you want. You usually do. Anyway,” she added, “I must go now. Mum and Dad’ll be waiting on the doorstep. You coming?” Prue had assured her parents that Hazel would be walking with her all the way, which wasn’t much comfort to them, but better than nothing.
“No, you go on,” said Hazel. “I need to talk to Geoff about a rota and that, so’s I can fit in a new job. See you,” she smiled. “Mind how you go!”
There was no street lighting in the village of Waltonby, despite periodic forays into estimates and plans by the parish council. At intervals along the main street there were lights outside the front doors of the larger houses, and Prue had no fears about walking home alone. She was deep in thought about Hazel’s cleaning ambitions, when a tall shape loomed out of the shadows on a dark stretch of road. She stopped dead in alarm, but then a familiar voice reassured her.
“Evening, Prue, my dear,” said the major. “Isn’t it rather late for a young girl to be out on her own?”
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Six
Prue’s mother had gone up to bed early, not because she was particularly tired, but because she was anxious to avoid the inevitable rising tension if Prue was late back from the pub. Mrs Betts agreed on every point with her husband, but considered that it was up to him to handle this aspect of Prue’s growing into a young woman. She loved her daughter very much, and was intrigued to see how well she could handle her father. She supposed it was partly learned from herself. Right from the beginning, when he had been a promising fellow- student in teacher training college, she had known just how to get him in a good mood and keep him there. A mixture of flattery and acquiescence had been the recipe for success. Not forgetting, she reminded herself as she heard a car pulling up outside the schoolhouse, a powerful spicing of physical attraction.
Mr Betts also heard the car, and jumped up, pulling aside the curtains and staring out. He recognized the car. Two people were sitting there, and as he watched, the driver leaned across and appeared to kiss the person beside
