companion for weeks.
“It was Betty, at the Waltonby pub,” Lois said, subsiding with relief. “She rang and said you’d left in a hurry, looked shaky and sick. I bin worried all afternoon. Anyway, you’re back now.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He didn’t respond in the usual way, but she put that down to surprise at his curious homecoming.
“Let’s get in then,” she said. “Gran’s made a cake, chocolate, specially for you. If you feel like it?” she added anxiously.
“Righto,” he said. “And don’t worry, gel. There was somethin’ a bit off about the ploughman’s,” he lied. “Didn’t like to say so to Betty. You know how she is. Thought it’d be better to let her think I’d come over a bit dizzy. Anyway, a piece of Gran’s cake’ll go down a treat.”
As he took off his work jacket and hung it up in the back porch, he heard the envelope crackle. He should bum it. That would be best. Bum it, and forget it’d ever existed. But he didn’t. He left it there, and went into the warm kitchen to his mother-in-law’s comforting chocolate cake.
? Weeping on Wednesday ?
Fifteen
“If it’s not too late,” said Lois to the manager at Dalling Hall, “I’ve bin thinking I’d like to have a Christmas dinner for New Brooms. Hope you’re not booked up.”
“Didder?” said the manager, who talked as if he’d accidentally stuffed an olive up his nose. “Fully booked for didder until Christmas, I’m afraid, Lois, but I could fit you in for lunch, I’m sure. How many would there be?”
Berk, said Lois to herself, not in the least discomforted. Dinner, lunch, whatever you like to call it, matey. “There’s me, and Bridie and Hazel…and Bill and Sheila…and there’s Enid, of course. So that’s six.”
The manager smiled. “One man amongst the girls! Sure you wouldn’t like hubbie to come too?”
Oh God, sighed Lois silently. “No, quite sure, thanks,” she said. “Can you do it?”
It was all settled. They would have lunch on Wednesday, mid-week being quieter at the Hall. Six could be accommodated with ease. They were all delighted at the meeting, excited as children at the prospect of lunch at Dalling Hall. Sheila Stratford asked anxiously what she should wear.
“Ball gown, o’course,” said Hazel, and Bridie nudged her to be quiet. Bill did not seem in the least bothered about being a ‘thorn among the roses’, as he gallantly said. Hazel raised her eyebrows at Lois, who ignored her and said Bill should count himself lucky.
If that manager shoves us in a corner, thought Lois, I shall make a scene, and he’ll be sorry. She grinned as she vacuumed the big dining-room where they’d be guests themselves.
When Derek was told, he shrugged. “If that’s where you want your profits to go, no business of mine, gel,” he said.
Lois was for the moment downcast. It was so unlike Derek not to encourage her, whatever she did, so long as it was not dangerous. Perhaps he really wasn’t feeling too well. She’d have to keep an eye on him when he wasn’t looking. Derek never admitted to illness, but soldiered on through colds and flu, stomach upsets and occasional bursts of the runs.
¦
A couple of days later, as he drove carefully along the narrow Dalling Hall road, Derek felt the wheels sliding on black ice and slowed down to a crawl. Rounding a bend where high hedges concealed a view of the road ahead, he was just able to stop safely as a car suddenly appeared in front of him. He backed to the nearest field entrance, and pulled off to one side. The car passed, and Derek drove on, looking at his watch and frowning. What was he doing coming this way, anyway? He was still working in Waltonby, and this was nothing like the shortest route.
He’d been into Tresham for supplies, and now it was nearly lunchtime. Lois had said it would be best for him to get something at the Waltonby pub, as they were all livin’ it up at the hall. None of the others had mentioned the celebration to him, some embarrassed that Lois had told them she’d not asked Derek to come because he was sure to mock. But Derek did not know that, and wondered. Lois had said he could reach her on her mobile, or leave a message at the hall reception if something urgent came up.
So she was definitely at the hall. But doing what? And who with? Was it really a New Brooms lunch? Or was she up in one of them luxury bedrooms, naked and lovely, in the arms of…In the arms of who, Derek? He felt the envelope crackle in his jacket pocket, and faced his suspicion. In the arms of Inspector Hunter bloody Cowgill, that’s who.
It would be easy enough to check. All he had to do was go in and ask for her. Pretend there was something up with one of the kids. He’d see then. They’d either go off to the dining-room, or get on the blower to one of the luxury bedrooms…
Derek stopped the van a couple of hundred yards from the entrance to Dalling Hall. He put his head in his hands and groaned. This was bloody awful. He should just go on to Waltonby and get on with his work. Lois was still Lois, tough, loyal and truthful…more or less. He gritted his teeth, let out the clutch and drove forward. When he came to the tradesmen’s entrance to the hall he slowed down and turned in, parking the van out of sight of the rear windows of the hall. He looked at his watch. It was half past one. They’d certainly be in the dining-room now. If they were there at all.
He got out of the van and locked it. He walked like a zombie into reception, and asked if he could speak to Mrs Lois Meade. It wouldn’t take long, just a message that couldn’t wait. The receptionist smiled at him. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I’ll fetch her. They all went in to lunch about half an hour ago. A very jolly party! Aren’t you joining them?”
Derek mumbled something about having to earn a crust, and when the girl had disappeared to fetch Lois, he retreated as rapidly as he could. Half-running to the car park, his head down for concealment, he bumped into a tall figure walking purposefully towards the hall. “Sorry, mate,” said Derek, and looked up. It was Detective Inspector Hunter bloody Cowgill, clutching his stomach where he had been mildly winded. Derek rushed to the van, and was out of the gates, grating gears, and on his way to Waltonby before Cowgill could recover his breath.
The road and passing hedges were a blur, and Derek had no idea how he got to the pub yard. He sat down in front of a pint, shook his head when offered food, and did not hear Betty saying he still looked a bit peaky, and was he sure he was fit for work?
So, it could still have been a cover story. The same dreadful possibility went round and round in Derek’s head. They could have had the meal, then the others go back to work and Lois skipped up to the luxury bedroom, laughing and bouncing around with Cowgill in her wonderful way. Derek drank down the pint, and asked for another.
“Are you sure, Derek? On an empty stomach?” asked Betty, now very concerned. He didn’t answer her, just waved his hand towards the pump. She drew him another pint, and went to fetch Geoff, the landlord.
¦
Lois walked into reception and looked around. “Where is he, then?” she said.
The girl looked surprised. “Well, he was here. That’s odd…”
They looked around in the various conference rooms, and sent the barman into the gents in case Derek had been taken short. But no Derek. “Are you sure it was him?”
The girl frowned, and nodded. “Pretty sure. I just assumed…Still, now you mention it, he didn’t say his name. Maybe it was somebody else. Anyway, it couldn’t have been very important.”
Lois shrugged and turned to go. She’d ring Derek after lunch and check. As she was going back into the dining-room, a voice behind her pulled her up.
“Afternoon, Lois,” said Cowgill.
“Blimey, are you following me?” said Lois crossly. “We’re having our Christmas dinner, and this is not the place for a chat with you.”
He smiled. “Just coincidence,” he said mildly. “I’m meeting the wife. But all the best for the festive season,” he added. As she turned away from him, he said, “Oh, and by the way, your husband just headbutted me on his way out to the car park. I do hope it wasn’t intentional.”
Lois returned to the others, and Bill said, “Penny for ‘em, Mrs M. You’re miles away. Come on, you’ve got some catching up to do. We’re on the third bottle, and have ordered pud. What’re you having?”
Lois sat down and tried to concentrate. No doubt there was a perfectly good explanation. She looked around
