he said sadly.
She nodded. “I start on Monday,” she said.
The Abrahams had no television, and Mother had forbidden them to have the radio. She said there was never anything but trouble, trouble, trouble. News of the outside world came in the pages of the
She began to straighten the bobbins. It might be all right, she told herself optimistically. Things could improve, if only Edward would settle things and make a life for himself, preferably somewhere else.
? Weeping on Wednesday ?
Eight
“Why couldn’t you just hire a couple of nice ordinary women, with ordinary kids and no trouble?” Derek, in an exasperated mood, sat in front of the dying fire opposite an unrepentant Lois. It was late, and the central heating had gone off half an hour ago. Lois moved her chair nearer to the fire and said, “I don’t know what you mean, Derek,” though she did know, perfectly well.
“Nothing difficult there,” said Derek. He thought how young she looked, hugging herself in the growing chill. You’d never think she was a mother of three, ran her own business and was about as bloody-minded as it was possible to get. Oh yes, and an amateur sleuth into the bargain. He resisted the temptation to grab hold of her and rush upstairs to have wonderful, energetic sex, which she was also good at.
“Just think, Lois,” he continued. “You’ve taken on a young bloke who’s worked briefly as a hospital auxilliary, but mainly on a moorland farm, used to being out of doors, roughing it in all weathers, one of the lads, and a useful scrum half. And you’re goin’ to set him on cleaning people’s poncey houses!” Lois nodded and smiled irritatingly.
“And then,” he carried on, trying hard not to notice how long and lovely Lois’s legs still were. Right up to her arse, his dad had said when he first took her home on approval. “Then,” he said, “there’s Miss Abraham. Anybody else would see that she won’t be any good. Too old, too posh, and from a place straight out of a Hammer Horror! Cathanger! Blimey, that’s enough for a start!”
Lois laughed now, her best open, straightforward laugh, and Derek gave in to temptation. “Oh, all right,” he said. “Have it your own way. You always do, anyway. Come on, gel,” he added, reaching out and pulling her to her feet. “Time for bed, an’ that,” he said.
“Specially that,” Lois replied, putting her arms round his neck and nuzzling his ear until he picked her up bodily and carried her to the foot of the stairs. “Put me down,” she whispered, “else you’ll be runnin’ out of steam.”
Derek, already regretting his chivalric impulse, put her down with relief.
¦
Next morning, Lois sat in her office, idly looking out of the window. She was waiting for a ring-back call to a new client, the estate agent’s small branch office in Fletcham. If she got this job, she planned to send Bill Stockbridge along. It would be a good start for him, she’d thought. Better than him having to get used to some woman who might follow him about to check he was dusting the tops of the picture frames.
She knew Derek was right. But right from the launch of New Brooms her cleaners had been more to her than just machines who had to function efficiently in the workplace. Bridie had been her childhood friend, and she remembered the day Hazel wriggled herself efficiently into the world, one of those babies who seem to know the score from the start. They were close to her already, before starting to work for her. Then there had been Gary, a misguided charmer, for whom Lois still had a sneaking fondness, though he’d left under a cloud. And dear old Sheila Stratford, who chose to work outside her own village, treating the job with New Brooms as if it were a fast track career with limitless prospects.
No, nice ordinary women were not for Lois. It was more interesting her way.
A car pulled up on the opposite side of the road, and Lois snapped to attention. Cowgill, seated behind the wheel and looking straight ahead, took out his mobile and dialled. Damn! Lois picked up her phone and said, “Something wrong with your feet? I thought policemen were supposed to plod round their beat, inspiring confidence in the local community and all that rubbish.”
“Morning, Lois,” said Hunter Cowgill. “You can’t have forgotten you’ve forbidden me to be seen with you? No alternative but to – ”
“But to sit outside my house with absolutely no reason for being there,” interrupted Lois. “Anyway, what do you want?”
“To talk to you,” said Cowgill briskly. “More an exchange of information, really. About the Abrahams. You know a bit about Enid now, I’m sure, and I can fill you in with some more about the family. There’s a problem there, as you’ve probably heard. I need your help, Lois. Two thirty, Alibone Woods? It’s not going to rain…”
“I suppose I can be there,” said Lois reluctantly.
“Good.” Cowgill was in authoritative mode now. “And in my own defence,” he added, “I’ve just been to your village shop. They’ve had a break-in. So I have every reason to be in Long Farnden. Bye, Lois. See you later.”
She watched him, and he did not once glance towards her window. The car slid off down the High Street, and as far as she could tell, no one noticed. Of course, she could not see that a small grey car had been parked outside the shop, and that Miss Enid Abraham had been bent over the biscuit selection whilst Inspector Cowgill had discussed the break-in with the shopkeeper behind the counter.
The ring-back call came in, and Lois forgot about Cowgill for the moment. The estate agent’s office was small, three rooms in all, with a sub-manager and girl clerk working there five days a week. They needed to keep it tidy and clean, said the girl, because they had so little space. “And you won’t catch me going round on hands and knees!” she said brightly. “Can you help us? Perhaps you can give us a special rate, as there’s really not much to do.”
“No, no special rates,” said Lois flatly, thinking that estate agents deserved their evil reputation. “I think you’ll find we give good value for money. Our team is the best, and you won’t have any reason to complain. Would it be all right if I call in this afternoon to discuss it?”
“Oh, right,” said the girl in a more subdued voice. “Yes, that will be fine. See you later then, Mrs Meade.”
The morning went quickly, with Lois attending to paperwork and working out the schedules for next week. Bill would start at the estate agent’s, with luck, and Enid Abraham would be going with Bridie to the vicarage to work alongside her and get used to the routines. Lois had decided this was the best way to train new staff. Gran had said surely there wasn’t much to learn; it was a poor sort of woman who couldn’t clean a house decently! But there was quite a lot more to it. Lois had done the job herself. Professional cleaners invaded a client’s private space. It was very important that they did it with tact and efficiency, leaving homes as they found them, but with a cheerful shine. The client must wave them goodbye with a pleasant feeling of well-being that had not been there before.
“Are you out this afternoon?” Gran said at lunchtime. She had made a mushroom omelette, and frowned as she watched Lois clearing her plate in minutes. “Have you any idea what you’re eating?” she said.
“You sound like somebody’s mother,” Lois answered. “But thanks, Mum,” she added quickly. “That was great. Got to be going now, and I may not be back in time for the kids getting home. Will you be here?”
“Of course,” said Gran, smiling happily. “Aren’t I always?”
¦
The woods were dark, although it was only halfway through the day. A thick mist hung over meadows that bordered the wood, and Lois regretted agreeing so readily to meet Cowgill. She’d have to think of a better place than this, if their arrangement was to continue.
“Thanks for coming.” He stood by their chosen tree trunk, tall and unsmiling, immaculately turned out as always. Must have a very dutiful wifie, thought Lois, noticing the snowy-white handkerchief showing from his breast pocket.
“Tell me about the Abrahams, then,” she said. “I haven’t got much time. Thingy’s in Fletcham want a
