“WHO ARE YOU?” LOIS SAID, KEEPING AS COOL AS SHE COULD manage. She could hardly see the owner of the voice, but thought she caught a northern accent. Geordie? That was it. “And how dare you threaten me!”
“You’d be surprised what you’d dare when you’re desperate,” he said.
“For God’s sake come out where I can see you,” said Lois, beginning to lose her cool.
The man stepped forwards, and she could see that he had all the sad signs of being down and out. Straggly, unkempt hair, rough red complexion and rheumy eyes. His clothes were layers of rags, and he had a filthy rucksack over his shoulder.
“I see,” she said. “So what do you want from me, and what will you do if I don’t give it to you?”
“Answer to the first question, money. If you don’t hand over what you got in that bag, I’ll take it by force. Christ knows I’ve never hurt nobody, but I’m frozen and hungry and tired of tramping about. Hand it over, then I’ll let you go.”
Lois peered more closely at him. His eyes were bloodshot, but without question a deep, unfathomable black. “Who are you?” she repeated. “Answer me a couple of questions, and I’ll give what money I’ve got in my purse. Bargain?”
“How will you know I’m telling the truth?” he said, and in that instant he could have been young Jack. Intelligent, cunning and wary.
“Oh, I shall know, Mr. Hickson,” she said, and immediately knew she had gone too far. He moved towards her, and she ran, out of the cottage, across the wet grass, almost blinded by the heavy rain. But she was well nourished and sheltered, and he was weak and hungry. She outstripped him easily, and finally turned and looked back. She could see him stumbling back towards the cottage, and then he disappeared.
A familiar van came slowly towards her, and she knew it was Derek. The girls and Gran must have told him. He stopped, opened the door and walked towards her, holding out his arms.
“IT WAS LIKE ONE OF THEM FILMS, WHERE THE MAN AND WOMAN run towards each on a sunset beach, into a passionate embrace. Me and your dad,” Lois said to Josie later that afternoon.
“And what romantic thing did Dad say?”
“ ‘You got wet feet, me duck.’ That’s what he said, bless ’im. We managed to have the meeting, anyway, and I didn’t say anything to Paula. But I’m sure it was him, Josie. Same eyes, same way of speaking as young Jack.”
“You’ve got a lot of thinking to do now, then, Mum. Shall we just tell Matthew and Cowgill and let them find Hickson? It might be for the best.”
Lois shook her head. “He may be desperate, but he’s also clever. He’s been keeping out of sight for a long time now. Probably got regular hidey-holes where he can lie low for as long as it’s safe. Then, when it isn’t, move on. And anyway, Josie,” she said, “s’far as we know, he ain’t committed a crime. Leaving his wife and kids is not a police matter. And I’m not at all sure yet that Paula wants him back. She’s making a new life for herself in Farnden.”
“What about the boy?”
“Ah, young Jack. Yes, well, he is a problem, and probably needs a father. But maybe not that father! But you’re right there. Something has to be done.”
She slipped off the stool by the shop counter and picked up her shopping. “Better get back and do some serious thinking. I don’t have to ask you-”
“-to keep it to myself,” finished Josie. “Of course I’ll not say a word. But I do think you’re taking a bit too much on yourself.”
“Don’t I always?” said Lois, and set off for home. She had decided to take Josie into her confidence for two reasons. First, she knew her daughter was a good source of village gossip from her listening post in the shop. And second, her encounter with Hickson had shaken her up, and Josie was the obvious person to confide in.
TWENTY-SIX
THE RAIN HAD CLEARED AWAY IN THE NIGHT, AND A BRIGHT sparkling countryside failed to grab Gavin’s attention as he drove much too fast along the narrow tree-lined lanes to work. He was late, having been drawn into an anxious discussion with Kate about three spots on Celia’s chubby cheek. Was it measles? No, she’d had the jab. Chicken pox? Not the right kind of spots. Ringworm, then, caught from other children at the Mums and Tots group? Finally they had agreed that Kate should take her to the surgery and check with the doctor. Couldn’t be too careful, Gavin had said.
Now he arrived in the office car park, locked his car and ran towards the front entrance.
“Gavin!” A tall, heavily built man with sandy hair carefully combed over a pinkish scalp, emerged from behind a car parked to one side and blocked his way.
Damn! Gavin said to himself. What the hell did Tim Froot want with him now? And surely he had more sense than to come here to find him?
“In a hurry!” he gasped, hesitating for a moment. “Can I catch up with you later?”
“Now,” said Froot flatly. “In my car. Get in.”
The darkened windows shielded them from onlookers, and Gavin said again that he was late for work and in a hurry.
“I need some action, Gavin,” Tim Froot said. “Time for you to come up with something positive. Do we have a development site or not? I can’t waste any more time on it. Either you produce something definite, and earn your commission, or I lose interest and take my money elsewhere. It’s not exactly the biggest deal, is it? But I like you, and I like Kate, and I’ll put this thing your way if you play your part. Do I make myself clear?”
Gavin nodded. “Very clear,” he said. “Give me a couple of weeks, and I’ll come up with what you want. Now I have to go, else I’ll have no job to go to.”
The office was quiet as he slipped into his place, hoping not to be noticed. But as he bent over his computer as if he’d been there since dawn, he felt a presence stop beside him.
“Gavin Adstone?” He looked up, and saw a broad-shouldered young man smiling at him.
“That’s me. Something amiss?”
“Douglas Meade. And no, there’s nothing wrong! Just thought I’d introduce myself. You’re newly moved in to Long Farnden, my grandmother tells me. She’s Mrs. Weedon, and my mum’s Lois Meade. Runs New Brooms cleaning service. Gran monitors everything and everybody in Farnden!”
Gavin stood up and stretched out his hand. “Glad to know you,” he said. “Actually, I’d heard about you, too.” He didn’t mention the post boy. “Yes, we’re incomers in the village, but I hope we’ll be accepted in ten years’ time!”
“Make it twenty-five,” said Douglas. “Anyway, must get on,” he added, looking at his watch. “Hope you’ll be happy there. Nice village, if handled tactfully…”
Gavin watched him walk away briskly. Friendly chap, he thought. But no fool. Have to watch your step there, Gavin boy.
TIM FROOT COASTED SLOWLY INTO FARNDEN, AND HIS SATNAV told him to turn right. “Destination on the left,” said Prudence, the name he had given the calm, patient voice. She never blamed him for taking a wrong turn, never sulked when his own route was more sensible than hers.
He pulled up, and looked across at the village hall, at its outdated wooden structure and grubby paintwork. The roof was sorely in need of repair, and the window frames were clearly rotten.
“Ripe for it,” he said aloud. If Gavin Adstone didn’t get on with it, he would have to look around for someone else. It was a tiny project compared with his usual plans, but he had taken a fancy to Kate Adstone, and wouldn’t say no to meeting her on a regular basis for a while.
“SUPPER’S EARLY TONIGHT,” GRAN SAID. “DEREK’S GOT HIS MEETING, and I’m going round to Joan’s to talk about what the WI plans to do for the soap box grand prix.”
“What, just the two of you, single-handed?”
