THIRTY-EIGHT
THE CHURCH CHOIR WAS ASSEMBLING IN DRIBS AND DRABS and Father Rodney greeted them at the door. Much to their relief, he had announced early on that he would not be joining them, but would give them every support. “Evening, Tony,” he said. “Did you have any luck with young Hickson?”
“Don’t know yet, Vicar,” he said. “We shall see if he turns up. Irene had a word with his mother, and she was all for it. Promised not to tell anyone. The lad was worried about what the thugs on the bus would do to him if they found out.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” said the vicar vigorously. “But I do understand. Young people today are so obsessed with being cool, and sadly anything to do with church seems to be about as uncool as they could imagine.”
“Not all, Father Rodney. A lot depends on the church.”
Father Rodney frowned. Was there a criticism there? He would have to give it some thought. Anthea had been the one most in touch with the new, edgy generation, and would gently guide him into the best way to handle them, if he ever got the chance. For the first time, he wondered whether he should perhaps think about another partner to share his thoughts.
“Right,” said Tony, “are we all here?”
“No need to keep looking at the door, Tony. All present and correct,” said the lead soprano, an upright, chilly figure with a loud voice and deaf ear, so that every hymn or anthem was for her an opportunity for a solo performance.
Tony looked anxiously at his watch. Irene, sitting in her chair at the end of one of the choir stalls, beckoned to him. “He’s not coming, I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Better get started.”
“Right, everybody,” Tony said, looking sadly at the assorted group. You couldn’t blame the lad. Who’d want to be numbered amongst this little lot? Certainly not a scared boy of thirteen. It was possible he might come along late, but he doubted it.
Choir practise was scheduled to last an hour, and although Tony added another hymn for them to go through, Jack Jr. did not appear. Then only Tony and Irene remained in the church, and he asked her if she minded waiting a short while longer. “These books are in a terrible state,” he said. “I could just sort them out, so it’d be easier to find them next time.”
Irene said that was fine, and thought to herself that poor old Tony was still hoping the boy might turn up with a good excuse. Finally they locked up the church and started on their way home. Halfway down the street, just as they were about to turn into their lane, Tony saw a figure hurrying towards them. It was not Jack, but his mother, and she hailed them without pleasantries.
“Where’s my Jack?” she said baldly.
“We’ve not seen him, Mrs. Hickson,” said Irene.
“He didn’t turn up,” Tony added.
“What? But he… Well, he set off about quarter past seven, saying he was going to church, to choir practise! I was so pleased!”
Irene shook her head sadly. “He must have gone somewhere else,” she said gently. “Maybe one of his friends?”
“Oh, God, not again,” Paula said. “I thought he’d stopped all that lying and staying out late an’ not telling me. I’ve left the kids, anyway,” she said, turning back, “so I’d better get home. Sorry about that, Mr. Dibson. He’ll get a good telling off from me when he does appear.”
Tony and Irene were silent for a moment, and then Irene said, “What d’you think? He did seem honest enough, that time he pushed me back.”
“Don’t ask me,” he replied. “I sometimes think children are a mixed blessing.”
As soon as he’d said it, he knew it was a mistake. “I could do with a blessing, mixed or otherwise,” Irene said, and again relapsed into silence.
BY TEN O’CLOCK, PAULA WAS REALLY WORRIED. SHE HAD RUNG Jack’s friend, but he was not there and they hadn’t heard from him. Then she tried the one teacher at his school who had taken an interest in him, and who lived in Fletching. He had probably broken rules in giving her his phone number for emergency purposes, and she had never rung him before. Now he advised her to ring the police, saying that even if Jack Jr. turned up, they never treated it as a waste of time, not with a thirteen-year-old.
Lastly, Paula rang Lois, the one she trusted most, but had least wanted to disturb at this hour. Her boss’s levelheaded dealings with the New Brooms team had given Paula reassurance when she most needed it, and now, when she heard Lois’s firm voice, she took a deep breath and explained the situation.
“He’s stayed out all night before, hasn’t he?” Lois said.
“Yeah, but it’s always been after school, an’ when I’ve checked, he really was where he said he was.”
“And this time? Had he been home for tea?”
“Yes. He’d even washed his hands after. Unheard of. I teased him a bit about being clean in church, and he’d laughed. He was in a really good mood, Mrs. M. Not like when he was late after school.”
“Give me a few minutes, Paula, and I’ll ring you back,” Lois said. She had a cold, sinking feeling and wanted to have a word with Derek. Why was she assuming the worst? Because absentee fathers had been known to abduct a child for various reasons, and not just for ransom money.
To her surprise, Derek didn’t dismiss it with a view that Jack Jr. would turn up sooner or later. He asked her the same questions she had asked Paula, and then said, “Go on, then. Ring him.”
Lois stared at him. “Ring who?” she said.
“You know perfectly well who,” Derek said. “But you’ll have to tell him everything you know, else it’ll not be fair. Go on, do it.”
COWGILL HAD HAD A PLEASANT DAY ON THE GOLF COURSE, AND was sipping a small whisky nightcap when the phone rang. Ah, well, he said to himself, it was too good to last. Then when he heard Lois’s voice he knew that much as he loved her, it was not good news. She would not ring him at this hour unless something bad had happened.
“Cowgill?”
“Evening, Lois. How are you, my dear?”
“Never mind about that,” Lois said. “I’m reporting a missing thirteen-year-old boy. And before you say anything, it’s young Jack Hickson. Yes, the Hicksons who live in Farnden. Runaway husband, four young kids, Jack’s been in trouble at school.”
“Yes, yes,” Cowgill said swiftly. “I remember. How long has he been missing? Why is it you ringing me and not his mother?”
“Just be here,” Lois said, “in twenty minutes. Come here first. And,” she added, “tread softly. Paula Hickson doesn’t know I’m talking to you.”
“But, Lois…” She had ended the call abruptly, as usual, and he got up from his chair at once. He knew his Lois. If she considered the matter an emergency, he did not doubt her. He took his car key off the hook and went out into his garage. In twenty minutes time, he was drawing up outside Lois’s house and saw her waiting on the doorstep for him.
To his amazement, she took his hand, and he could feel her trembling. “Thanks,” she said. “Come in. Derek knows all about it, and Gran’s babysitting for Paula.”
When they entered the sitting room, Cowgill saw Derek standing by the window and a woman he vaguely recognized sitting on the sofa. He realised she was Jack’s mother, and when Lois introduced them, he thought he had never seen such an anxious-looking woman, and he’d seen a few in his time.
It was Paula who spoke first. “It wasn’t me who phoned you,” she blurted out. “It was Mrs. M. I didn’t want to waste police time…”
Cowgill said quietly that he knew it was Mrs. Meade who had asked him to come over. “Please be assured that
