else in the Nimmo circle could she have a chat to? There was one old friend, but she hadn’t been in touch with her for years. She had had a family, all still around Tresham, so it might be worth giving her a bell. What was her name? She’d been at school with Dot, in the same class. Martha? Martha Ross! That was it. And she married a Smith. Oh God, finding her in the telephone directory would take a while, and even then she might not get the right one. More thought needed on that one.
She looked out of her window. Her garden was full of sunlight, and a large grey pigeon was sitting in the birdbath. It looks like a stupid duck, thought Dot, and she began to laugh. She felt ridiculously happy to be ferretin’ with Mrs. M again. And knowing the world of the Nimmos, it was more than possible she would uncover a great deal of dirt before they were finished.
VICTOR NIMMO WAS WAITING AT THE DOOR AS DOT DREW UP outside his tall, wrought iron gates. He lived in some style on the edge of town, and his house and large garden were fortified against all intruders. He had enemies, he knew. You couldn’t get as rich as he was without making enemies. Now he operated the gates remotely so Dot could drive in.
“Bloomin’ ’ell,” she said. “You expecting a terrorist attack, or something? Anyway, how are you, Victor? And how’s the wife?”
He ushered her into a long room lavishly furnished and decorated in shades of cream and gold. “Pammie’s gone to her mother’s for a few days,” he said.
Dot knew for a fact that she had been gone a few months, probably never to return, but said nothing.
“Now, Auntie,” Victor said. “What can I do for you? In a spot of trouble, are you?”
“Of course not,” Dot said sharply. “No, it’s information I need. I know you still keep the old rackets going, and might know something useful.”
“What’s it worth?” he said, pretending to be joking.
“Could be your entitlement to all this,” she said, waving her hand around. “But we Nimmos must stick together. It’s important, Victor, and you know the form. You scratch my back an’ I’ll scratch yours. Now, what I want to know is to do with missing persons.”
In a skillful way, she then described the kind of person she was looking for without alerting him to the actual case of Jack Jr. “The missing person’s probably been taken as part of an old grudge,” she ended up, “and God knows there’s still plenty of grudges in town. My old man may not have made your kind of money, but at least he settled everything before he died. Anyway, what d’you reckon?”
Victor was silent for minute, taking it all in. He might well have had brains, but they needed time. “Can I have a think, Dot, and let you know?”
“It’s urgent,” she said. “Give me a bell tomorrow. Don’t let me down, will you, Victor. But you got more sense than to do that, I know. Now, you’d better let me out of this prison and get yourself down the pub. And, by the way, I don’t want this spread around. You know how to do it. I’ll hear from you tomorrow.”
FIFTY-THREE
IT HAD BEEN A BAD FEW DAYS IN THE ADSTONE HOUSEHOLD. After Kate had told Gavin about her meeting with Tim Froot, he had been stunned and silent. This had not lasted, and ever since then he had burst out into fits of anger, first at her, for taking matters into her own hands, and then at Froot for having the nerve to attempt to blackmail Kate into an intimacy that made him feel sick every time he thought about it.
“And you took Cecilia with you!” he repeated, day after day.
This evening, when he said it once more, Kate began to think this was his most important concern. “He was quite nice to her,” she said finally. “She thought he was great.”
At this, Gavin covered his eyes and moaned. “Kate, what have you done? Don’t you know that Froot never gives up? He has so many poor sods at his beck and call that he always gets his own way, especially when he has his victim over a barrel.”
“He doesn’t have us over a barrel,” she replied. “I told him straight. We would pay back what you owe in installments, and he was to leave us alone. Of course, I didn’t know about the bargain you’d made. I’m not sure I can forgive that. If anybody in the village got to know your part in it, we’d be drummed out.”
“But I haven’t done what he wanted!” Gavin shouted at her. “You know I haven’t. And I’m not going to! Christ knows what’ll happen, especially since you stuck your oar in, but I’ve finished with Froot. I just wish you’d let me handle it all myself.”
Kate was near to tears, and then she remembered something Froot said. He would make our marriage a disaster! And now it was happening. She began to see what Gavin meant about Froot being all powerful. But he hadn’t won yet. She went over to where Gavin sat and crouched down beside him, taking his hands in hers.
“Gavin, we’ve got to stop!”
“Stop what?”
“Shouting and quarrelling and starting to hate each other. It’s just what Froot threatened. He said if you didn’t play your part in the bargain and wreck the soap box day, he’d make sure our marriage was destroyed. And here we are, on the way!”
After that, they sat silently hand in hand until it was time to check on Cecilia and then go to bed.
“I love you, Kate,” Gavin said, as he moved up close to her warm body.
“I love you, too,” she said, and added, “and as I told Tim Froot, we’ll see him in jail if he doesn’t leave us alone.”
Gavin sat up. “Why did you say that?” he said. “How could we possibly-?”
“I was going to tell you. I was chatting to Paula Hickson, and discovered we both worked for Froot at the same time. She was in the canteen, and I don’t remember seeing her. But she remembered me, and we compared notes. She had some horrific stories to tell. Girls who’d been virtually raped by Froot and then paid to keep quiet. Men who had been threatened with the sack if they didn’t do really dodgy jobs for him. Oafs like that heavy he sent out to threaten me, I suppose. Yeah, Froot is into drugs and God knows what else. Paula didn’t say if he’d had a go at her, but she certainly loathed him. I reckon if we needed her, we could get her to be a witness.”
“Oh, my God, Kate, you have really got us in deep. But you’re right. If we stop trying, we’ll be in his clutches forever. Let’s get some sleep now, and talk some more tomorrow.”
NEXT DAY, PAULA HICKSON WAS DUE TO BE AT THE HALL AS usual, and she had told Lois she thought it would be safe now to get back to the job, as Mrs. Smith at the farm had said she could give Jack Jr. some work that would keep him busy all day. She would give him lunch, she said, and keep an eye on him. The work was all in the garden and the chicken run, all within sight of the farmhouse.
“In any case, Mrs. Hickson,” Edwina Smith had said, “he’s explained it all now, and we should be showing that we believe him when he says he won’t be so thoughtless in future.”
“But I don’t believe him,” Paula said to Lois. “Still, I can’t lock him up in a back room and give him bread and water forever. So I’ll be okay for the hall, if you want me there.”
Lois accepted the suggestion at once. It was not that she had come to believe Jack Jr.’s story any more than his mother did, but the pressure of work made her agree, though with some misgivings.
Now, with the twins at school, Frankie at nursery and Jack Jr. at Smith’s Farm, Paula knocked at the hall kitchen door and walked in. Mrs. Tollervey-Jones greeted her kindly, and said she was pleased to have her back.
“Before you start work, Mrs. Hickson,” she said, “I have a treat for you. I want to give you a private preview of the future soap box champion,
It was all Paula could do to stop Mrs. T-J giving her a demonstration of the vehicle’s speed, and they returned to the house. “Right, off you go, then. Your colleague has been very good, but not quite up to your standard.” She turned to leave the kitchen, and then stopped. “By the way, do you remember my new gardener who left me in the
