house. After all, the whole earful might return any minute. Prepared for a confrontation with the reclusive old mother, who had certainly not been in the car, Lois marched across to the door. To her surprise, she found it half- open.
They’d left in a hurry. That was immediately apparent. Dirty pots and pans stood in the sink, a pile of overalls for the wash scattered around the floor. The dog growled, standing at bay and prepared to attack this intruder. The cats fled through the open door.
“Here, boy,” said Lois, holding out a friendly hand, and hoping to God it would not be bitten off. But the sheepdog crawled slowly towards her on its belly, suspicious at first, and then, this time deciding she was friend not foe, wagged its tail tentatively in greeting. First hurdle cleared, then. Lois knew the way to the mother’s room was through the hall, and walked boldly through. Take the enemy by surprise, that would be her strategy.
The first door she opened led into the dining-room Jamie had described. And there was the piano, the cause of all this trouble. She backed out. Next, the one opposite. She knocked, sure that this must be the mother’s, and then noticed that it stood ajar. There was no reply to her “Hello? Mrs Abraham?”, and so she pushed open the door and went in. The room was empty, and the smell was overpowering.
A quick glance told her, once more, that the exit had been hurried. Clothes strewn everywhere, and a tray of food left half-eaten. On a small desk she saw a pile of books tipped over, and, turning to get out as quickly as possible, caught her foot against a rucked-up rug. She looked down and saw a book, half-hidden. She picked it up and found that it was a leather-bound diary. Opening it at random, she saw handwriting so small that she was unable to read it in the gloom. She slipped it into her pocket and left the room swiftly, holding her nose. Bloody hell! – what was Enid thinking of, allowing it to get into this state?
Lois walked quickly round the rest of the house, and found nobody. She had seen a large key hanging by the back door, and, sure now that nobody was coming back, took it, locked up and went back to her car. There she phoned Bill.
“A job for you, lad,” she said. “When you’ve finished eating, come straight over to Bell’s Farm. And bring your wellies.”
Bill said that his lump of cheese and hunk of stale bread could wait, and he’d be there in ten minutes. Lois grinned. He was a comfort, was Bill. At least I chose well with him, she reassured herself, even if Enid Abraham had turned out to be more liability than asset. Where the fault lay for that had yet to be discovered, and until it was, she determined to find Enid and bring her back into the fold.
Now she dialled Cowgill’s number, and as she did so, realized the enormity of what she had found.
“OK, I’ll stay here ‘til you come,” she said, and was thankful that Cowgill seemed at last to have grasped that something bad enough had happened to command urgent action.
“Oh, and I’ve asked Bill Stockbridge to come over and see to the animals. They’re goin’ to be eating each other if they don’t soon get fed. What did you say?” she added, and his reply made her smile to herself. “You’d do very well without me, I expect,” she said. “Plenty of willin’ snouts about, though not many goin’ for free…yeah, OK, I’ll wait.”
Much later, after Bill had dealt with the animals and Cowgill had come over to inspect everything and make his plans, Lois remembered the diary. She checked that it was still in her pocket and said only, “Right, well, I’ll be getting home. Got work to do.”
“I’ll be in touch,” said Cowgill. He turned to Bill. “I’d be glad if you’d keep this under your hat for the moment,” he said, but without much hope. From long experience, he knew that people could never keep secrets for long. Still, he might not need long to sort out this one. A battered, patched blue car with three oddly assorted people in it shouldn’t be too difficult to find.
¦
Chugging along, Enid had much the same thoughts. If Mrs M was worried, and Enid was sure she would be, she’d most likely tell the police. They were supposed to be looking for Edward, after all. This old banger would be easy to spot, and easy to catch. She stopped crying, and silence fell over the three of them. Father was hunched down in his seat, and though he had his eyes closed Enid was sure he was not asleep. Edward drove carefully, negotiating twisting lanes that Enid did not recognize. She had no idea where they were, but they had been going less than half an hour when Edward turned the car into a rutted track, worse than the one down to the mill. “Where are we going?” she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. Edward had started humming quietly for the last five minutes, and Enid recognized one of their childhood songs, “
“You’ll see,” he said lightly. “It’ll be a treat for you, Enid,” he added, and smiled to himself. After five minutes bumping along, being thrown from side to side, they stopped outside an old barn. It was falling to pieces, and clearly never used by whoever owned it. “See, Enid?” Edward said. “I’ve had to find all the best hiding places around, and this one is perfect for the purpose.”
“What purpose, dear?” said Enid.
“Come with me,” he said, and got out of the car. She had a swift image of herself trussed up in the corner of a dark barn with Father, both of them abandoned to a terrible fate.
But Edward asked her to help open the battered doors of the barn, and inside she saw, with a sinking heart, another car, a much better, newer car. It was an anonymous black, with the opaque windows she associated with film stars and criminals. Not what the police would be looking for at all. Edward had lost none of his cunning, she reflected sadly. No wonder he’d wanted her out of the way in the cave. He’d had a lot of organizing to do.
“Come on, quickly,” he said now. “Help me transfer the cases, and get Father into the back seat. I want you in the front to map read…just for the first few miles. Then I know the way, after that.”
He was excited, full of enthusiasm. They completed the transfer in minutes, put the old car in the barn and shut the doors, and then they were off again, back down the track and out on to the road. “Here,” said Edward, giving Enid the road map, “tell me which way to the motorway, then I’ll be fine. You can have a nap.” He turned and looked at her briefly. “Sorry, Enid,” he said, “about the cave business… But it was necessary…part of the plan. Sorry if I hurt you…”
She managed a smile in return. “That’s all right,” she said. “No harm done. I expect you’ll be telling me more about it later. Now, take a right turn at this junction, and then it’s straight on for about five miles.”
Once on the motorway, Enid put down the map and closed her eyes. She knew they were heading north, and now had a good idea where they were going. Father was snoring now, and she was glad. At least he had found an escape from this terrifying flight. He must be worrying about Mother. After Enid had come round from her faint in the house, Edward had explained that they had taken Mother to a nursing home the other side of Tresham. “We had to do it while you were out working,” he’d said. “Knew you wouldn’t agree. Father wasn’t too keen, but I convinced him.” He had grinned conspiratorially. “Anyway, she’s settled down well, they said.” Then he’d added, “It was a good joke, the dressing-up, wasn’t it? Fooled you for a minute, didn’t I?” His laughter had been like a blow, and she’d recoiled.
Enid could sometimes read Edward’s mind. Twins were renowned for this. She had tried for years to deny their twinhood, not wanting to be associated with Edward’s excesses more than necessary, but there had always been a kind of silent communication between them. It had been a comfort at times, when they were little. The two of them in league against the world. But after a while, when Edward began to be difficult, she’d tried to shut it down. Most of the time she had succeeded, but now she felt it strongly. He was lying. Somewhere in his account of what had happened to Mother, there was a lie.
“We’ll go and see her…see for ourselves, when we go back,” Enid said. “She’ll want to have visitors, Edward.”
He laughed, more of a bark than a laugh. “Huh! I don’t see why,” he said. “She’s not wanted visitors for years now, so why should she change?”
Father’s voice came from the back, weak and croaky. “We’re not going back, anyway,” he said.
“Shut up!” All Edward’s amiability had vanished. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “How can I concentrate on the driving if you two keep babbling on! Shut up, both of you!”
They drove on in silence for another hour, and then he started singing again: “
