“Oh, Lois,” said Gran, “you’re a hard-hearted one. Probably only having a festive drink with his mates in the pub.”
“Not according to Betty,” said Lois shortly. “And anyway, I can smell burning in the kitchen. Hadn’t you better see to it?”
Gran knew that with Lois in this mood, it was best to keep out of the way. She retreated, telling herself it was none of her business, and never to come between man and wife.
¦
Next morning, Derek was up and away to work before Gran had had time to cook him breakfast. “Looked a bit green, Lois,” she said tentatively.
“I’ll give him green,” said Lois. “He’ll be black and blue if he comes that trick again. He’s got a family to look after and his own business to run, and if he gets a reputation for bein’ unreliable the work’ll dry up and then where shall we be?”
“Not like him, though, is it, Lois?” Gran persisted. “Is he worried about anything? Has he said anything?”
Lois shook her head. “No, nothing. I suppose everything hots up this time of the year. Everybody wants things done yesterday. Still, it’s never bothered him before.”
“You’ve not had a business before,” said Gran quietly.
“What d’you mean by that?” Lois’s voice was sharp.
“Well, perhaps he relies on you more than you think. You know, to talk about his work, an’ that. P’raps you haven’t given him so much time lately.” Gran knew she was running the risk of an explosion here, but was determined now to have her say.
Lois did not explode, but stalked off to her office, slamming the door behind her without a word.
The day passed routinely, with no more calls for a rescue party. The only call Lois had was from Derek’s football mate from Tresham ringing to say he could bring the piano over on a trailer late on Christmas Eve, if that was OK with Lois. She agreed, and thanked him profusely. He was a family man, she knew, and was doing them a big favour.
She rang the manor to check that it was all right with them, and they asked if she’d like to pop over and have a quick look at it, to make sure. They’d be happier if she saw it before the move was made. She protested she wouldn’t know one piano from another, but they said she’d surely know whether she liked the general appearance, and were insistent. After all, she was putting it in her sitting-room. So she agreed to be there around half past five, just for a quick look.
It was dark when she set off, and raining again. She had some supplies to drop in on Bill in Fletcham, and Sheila in Waltonby, and so decided to go round the triangle and call in at the manor on the way back.
Bell’s Farm was ablaze with light, and Lois smiled. It had certainly brightened up this stretch of road. Before the Charringtons came, it had been the gloomiest half-mile in the county, with the neglected farmhouse and Cathanger Mill with its overhanging trees shutting out all except the smallest glimmers of moonlight.
She slowed down to round the bend before coming to the bridge. No floods now, thank goodness. Her headlights were weak, but picked up a moving shadow by the entrance to the mill. As she approached, the shadow divided, and she could see it was two people, one tall and stooping, bending down towards a smaller figure. Was it Enid?
Better not stop. Probably that old father of Enid’s trying to persuade her to do something or other. But suppose she was in trouble? Lois made a rapid decision, and put on her brakes. Two faces turned sharply towards her, and she could see one of them was indeed Enid, frowning and angry. The other was pale and familiar. This was all she had time to see, before the pair of them turned away from her, moving quickly down the rutted track towards the mill.
Lois sighed. “And a Merry Christmas to you too, Miss Abraham,” she muttered, and moved off. It took her only fifteen minutes to see the piano, approve it, and be on her way again.
By the time she reached home, Derek had come back from work, the job completed. He was holding a great bunch of flowers, which he handed to her at the door, pecked her on the cheek, and said, “Sorry, gel.”
She breathed in the flowery scents and thanked him with a forgiving smile. It had been a nice thought, but on reflection, she’d rather have had one of his lovely bear hugs and done without the flowers.
? Weeping on Wednesday ?
Seventeen
“Did your lot do a really good search?” Lois looked closely at Hunter Cowgill. It was very dim in the old barn, with only a thin beam of daylight filtering through the dirty window. She thought he looked shifty. “Did you get the helicopter out, an’ that?” she persisted.
He shook his head. “They were busy that night, with people trapped in floods all over the county. Not too impressed with a glimpse of a white face and a tumbling shape in the mill stream.” His voice was apologetic. The truth was that Constable Keith Simpson and another young recruit had tramped through the muddy fields either side of the stream for about two hundred yards, then returned to the mill and had a cursory look around, and given up until next morning. Then they’d asked old Abraham a few questions, got some very dusty answers, and gone back to report nothing amiss.
Lois was cross and frustrated. She was certain she had seen something – no, more than something, she had seen a body, unless it was still alive, in which case it was a very inert human being – being tossed about in the torrential stream. “I didn’t imagine a face,” she said, glaring at him. “Maybe I might’ve taken an old cardboard box for a body, with my heated imagination…”
“No need to be sarcastic, Lois,” said Cowgill mildly. “We do our best under very difficult circumstances.”
“As I was saying,” continued Lois, “I might have mistook a biggish shape for a body, but not a face! Blimey, I know a face when I see one! An’ that was a face. Still, if you’re not interested…” She turned towards the door. It had not been convenient for her this morning. The dog was off-colour and was allowed to stay in his basket, and there was no reason why she should be walking in the playing field without him. She’d felt a thousand eyes on her as she tramped down and across the footpath to meet Cowgill. When he’d phoned, she had tried to get out of it, but he’d said it was urgent.
“Just a minute, Lois,” Cowgill said now. “We are still looking for Edward Abraham, and it is important we find him.”
“Couldn’t it have been him in the stream?” said Lois, speaking as if to a three-year-old.
“Yes,” said Cowgill flatly. “It could. And you’d have been right to be angry with me. But there’s been a sighting since.”
Lois thought of what she had seen in the shadowy entrance to the mill. It had definitely been Enid, but the other? She had thought it must be the old man, but she wasn’t sure. Perhaps she’d not tell Cowgill about that. The more she knew of Enid, the more she liked her. If it was possible to guard her against painful police questioning, she would try to do what she could.
“Where has he bin seen?” she said.
“Outside Fletcham, crossing the railway line,” he replied. “He was seen by someone who knows him fairly well, but only from a distance. Not conclusive, but a reasonable chance.”
“He could have hitched a ride,” said Lois. “The road runs along by the rail track there for about a mile.”
“True,” said Cowgill seriously. “But he doubled back, apparently, and disappeared into the woods.”
“Our woods?” said Lois.
Cowgill nodded. “Alibone Woods,” he confirmed. “So that’s why I would like you to ask Enid Abraham if they ever picnicked there…You know, ask her casually, in conversation. It is possible she knows where he is, and would warn him. I know you’ll do it right, Lois. Would you mind?”
“Of course I mind! She’s one of my staff,” snapped Lois. “In any case, I’m sure your brave boys have searched the woods?”
Cowgill sighed. “Yes, we have,” he said patiently. “And found nothing. But there might be some hidden place they found, she and Edward. They used to go everywhere together, apparently. Anyway,” he continued, “we can’t do the full bloodhound bit. He’s not committed murder or abducted a child, so far as we know. Only fraud and intimidation are on his sheet at the moment, so I need some way of getting information from Enid without her
