? Weeping on Wednesday ?
Forty-Three
Lois ticked off dusters from her list. A robot could do this, she thought, as she went on to the shelves round the corner. Operating mechanically, she continued to push her heavy trolley round the wholesalers, her mind on Enid, captive and miserable. She knew Cowgill had the whole thing well organized now, and she expected a call any minute to say the Abrahams had been found. But she dreaded one thing. It was certain they would be found – but dead or alive? Two dead, and one alive? Anyone who had murdered his mother and buried her in a muddy field would stop at nothing. She was sure that a criminal’s first murder, like the first theft, would be the most difficult. After that, the most basic hurdle had been taken. Thou shalt not break the law. Most of us, she thought to herself as she consulted her list, don’t even try. We may feel like it sometimes. Some people even have enough provocation…
Provocation. That word stuck in her head as she struggled on. What had driven Edward to do it? She knew he had frequent rows with his father. He’d even physically attacked him that night in the yard. It had been him, for sure. But his mother? She adored him. Lois knew that from the diary. She supposed she should give that to Cowgill now, but for the moment…
When she returned home, she took it out of her drawer and turned again to the last entry. “Haven’t seen my Teddy for so long…” What had happened to stop her just there? It was the day of the flood. And the day Enid said her mother shut herself up completely, and she’d not seen her since. Because she’d not been there at all. Because she’d been rolling down the swollen torrent until she’d fetched up on the bank, and then one of them, Edward or Walter, had dug a shallow grave and buried her. She remembered Enid saying her father had been out very early next day and done a thorough search.
¦
Bridie Reading was also thinking about Enid. She hadn’t particularly liked the woman, and nor had Hazel. Particularly Hazel. She knew too much about the Abraham family, and was wary. Her mum said she had a nose for trouble, and meant it as a compliment. Now they sat watching breakfast television, but neither was concentrating.
“Mum,” Hazel said. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything about that Mrs Abraham living round here as a girl? You know, Lois asked us.”
“Never heard anything. ‘Course, I wasn’t in Farnden when she was a girl,” Bridie said slowly. “When they came back, they were just left to get on with it. Villages are like that.”
“Yeah, but villages are full of gossips,” said Hazel. “Surely somebody…?”
“Hey, wait a minute!” said Bridie. She sat up, reached for the remote, and turned off the television. “Why didn’t we think of it before? Ivy Beasley!”
“What, that old biddy over at Ringford? Her that nearly married her lodger, and then he done a runner?”
“That’s her,” said Bridie. “Why don’t you call in on that old woman at the lodge, just in a friendly way, to check she’s OK. Then you’d have an excuse to go on and see Miss Beasley. She’s the old one’s friend. Nothin’ has ever escaped her eagle eye. Chat her up.”
“Chat her up!” said Hazel, grinning. “She’ll have my guts for garters, if what I’ve heard is true. Still, I’ll give it a try. Nice one, Mum.”
¦
“I
Hazel stood on the scrubbed white step, and smiled. It was an effort, but she had to stop the woman shutting the door. “I need help,” she said. “They say you know everything about what goes on in these parts. Old Ellen said. Can you spare me a minute?”
There was pause while Ivy Beasley considered it. Then, to Hazel’s relief, she opened the door wider and said, “I suppose you’d better come in, then. You’ll have to be in the kitchen. Front room’s just been cleaned. And it had better be quick.”
Hazel ignored the suggestion that she might sully the best chairs, and went through.
“It’s about the Abrahams at Cathanger,” she began.
“Of course it is,” said Miss Beasley sharply. “D’you think I’m stupid? What d’you want to know?”
“The mother’s maiden name. Seems she came from round here.” Hazel realized there was no point in niceties. Straight to the point with Ivy Beasley.
“Ah, yes, well, it looks like your boss has backed the wrong horse in employing one of them Abrahams,” she said. “Still, that’s her affair. But if you ask me, she’d steer well clear of them in the future.”
“Yes, well, as you say, that’s Mrs Meade’s affair, Miss Beasley. We just think it might be helpful – I don’t need to explain why – to discover as much as possible about them. Enid Abraham’s a good worker, and Mrs M’s very concerned.” Hazel knew she sounded defensive, but could not help it. There were limits.
“No need to get all hoity-toity, Hazel Reading, not if you want me to tell you what I know.”
Hazel sighed, trying to be patient. If this Miss Beasley knew something, it could be worth waiting for.
After settling herself, Ivy began in a different, confiding voice, “Well, I didn’t think nothing of it when Mrs Meade’s mother was asking around at the WI. But later on, when I got home and was feeding that cat, it came back to me.”
“Yes?” Hazel diplomatically stroked a big, ordinary-looking tabby that had landed unasked on her lap.
“The Abraham woman. She were a Blenkinsop. Big family o’girls. Father worked on the railways with my dad. She was younger than me, o’course. But I remember her as a whiney, spoilt sort of creature. Good at getting her own way. That kind o’thing. Blenkinsop. She went away when she got married, and then when they came back, didn’t want to know any of us. Ideas above her station, if you ask me. Well, that was it. Blenkinsop.”
She was silent then, and Hazel said, “That’s very interesting, Miss Beasley. Thank you. I wonder, could I…?” But Ivy Beasley was on her feet, showing her out of the kitchen. Hazel knew she’d got all the information Miss Beasley was prepared to release, and, standing once more on the white step, turned to thank her. But the door had shut, and she returned to her car.
¦
Lois listened carefully to what Hazel reported. “Well done,” she said.
“Not much help, really,” said Hazel gloomily, shifting the telephone receiver from one hand to the other. “Everything helps,” said Lois. “Now we know what kind of woman she was. That could be very useful, and we might catch up with some other Blenkinsops…”
But when Lois finished talking to Hazel, and searched through the local directory, there were no Blenkinsops listed. Well, all those girls must have married and got themselves different names, and the old folk would have died by now. Miss Beasley’s comment, faithfully relayed by Hazel, came back to her.
A whiney, spoilt sort of creature. Good at getting her own way. Was that why she became a recluse, discovering that it was a very effective weapon? And where did that leave Enid? Whose side was she on? Lois sighed again. If only she could hear from Enid, just to know she was still alive, then she’d be happy to leave the rest to Cowgill.
She told Derek this when he came in from the garden. “Don’t deceive yerself, me duck,” he said. “You’ll ferret away ‘til you come up with somethin’ like the truth. And we’re all prayin’ to God it’ll be soon, if only so’s the kids can get through to you! Josie’s bin asking for new jeans for a week now, and it’s time you listened!”
As they ate, Lois told Gran about Hazel’s call, and she smiled. “Right ole acid-tongue, that one,” she said. “Everybody knows her, and most of the WI are scared stiff of her. Still, she came up with the goods.”
“Hazel wasn’t sure it’s much help,” said Lois. “But it’s a start.”
“I’ll ask around,” Derek said. “I’m helpin’ next door with his paving tomorrow, then we’re goin’ to Waltonby for a refresher. Someone in the pub might remember the Blenkinsops. The old farmers get in there, playin’ dominoes. Get them goin’ on the old days, and you’re there for the afternoon.”
“Mum?” Josie smiled pleadingly at her mother. “Mum, can we go shopping soon? I need some new – ”
“I know, love,” said Lois, “some new jeans. Yep, o’course we can go. I bin a bit busy lately, but we’ll go to that new shop in the centre. Get you some T-shirts as well. I reckon you’re goin’ to be busty like your gran!”
“That’s quite enough of that, Lois Meade,” said her mother huffily. “Your dad used to say I’d got a better
