Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven

by Ann Purser

  Armed with torches, Lois and Derek set off. They agreed they would not take Jeems, as she was in a terrified state already. There were no streetlights, except for the one over the shop, and as they went they called out, especially along by a piece of rough ground between the shop and the side road that led to Joan’s house. They were just nearing the end of a ruined cottage when Lois stopped suddenly.

  “Derek! Hush! Did you hear that? I am sure I heard a sound. You call really loudly!”

  Derek yelled “Elsie! Gran!” at the top of his voice, and at last there was a weak shout.

  “Over here . . . I’m over here.”

  Avoiding brambles and piles of old bricks, they made their way towards the voice. It was Gran, half sitting, half lying, on a bare patch of ground. Lois rushed towards her and put her arms around the shaking shoulders.

  “What took you so long?” Gran said finally. “I should have thought you would at least have got the police dogs out looking for me.”

  Derek snorted. “That’s all we get for scratched legs and stubbed toes! Come on, you old battle-axe, up we get.”

  He hauled her to her feet, and realised that for all her brave face, she was actually shaking from head to foot. “Hold on tight to me,” he said, and lifted her into his arms. Stepping slowly over sundry obstacles, they reached the path.

  “Put me down now, Derek. I’ll be fine. Let’s get back home. Did Jeems come and find you? I sent her off to tell you I needed help.”

  They said that yes, Jeems had raised the alarm. “We must give her some warm milk and get the mud off her coat.” Lois added that they should have no more talking until they were safely back home, when Gran could tell them exactly what happened.

  * * *

  Although it was summer, the nights lately had been very cold, with a north wind sweeping down the street and making it seem more like autumn. By the time the trio reached home, even though Derek had put his jacket round Gran’s shoulders, they were all in dire need of a hot drink.

  “Tea for me, please,” said Gran, as Lois sat her down by the Rayburn and wrapped her round with a warm shawl.

  “And a slug of this in it,” said Derek, wielding a bottle.

  When they were all settled, Lois suggested it was time for Gran to tell them what had happened.

  “Well, to begin at the beginning, I had had a nice evening with Joan, and I stayed to watch the end of that detective series on the telly. I set off with my torch and Jeems on her lead, and as I came up to that rough ground, I heard a car coming up behind me. I think I turned to wave him off, but the headlights were on, and he just kept coming. There’s a deep muddy puddle just there, and I’m sure he deliberately sent great showers all over me and Jeems. Jeems pulled at the lead, and I ran towards that opening in the wall and kept running.”

  “What about the car?” Derek put another slug into Gran’s mug.

  “He must have swerved away at the last minute,” she said. “By that time, I had dropped my torch, and it was complete darkness. I stumbled around for a bit, then tripped and fell where you found me. I sent Jeems off up to home, and hoped you would see her outside the back door.”

  “Which we did,” said Lois. “What a horrible time you’ve had, Mum. I’m going to phone Joan to say we’ve found you, and tell her briefly what happened.”

  “Don’t make too much of it, Lois. I don’t want her to think I’m a silly old woman who can’t find her way back home.”

  After a hot bath with lots of fragrant bath essence, Gran finally went to bed and fell instantly into a deep sleep. Lois and Derek stayed behind in the kitchen for another half hour, turning over what she had said.

  “One thing I noticed,” said Lois. “Mum always said ‘he’ did this and that. You can’t actually see the driver when the headlights are dazzling you. It could equally well have been a woman, don’t you think?”

  Derek nodded. “So you don’t think it was the thieving mugger?”

  “He would hardly have nearly run her over if he wanted to encourage her to open her handbag for him, would he? And anyway, he has always acted in daylight so far.”

  “True. Do you have any other idea? You’ve got that sleuthy look in your eye. For God’s sake, let’s get it out in the open and put a stop to all this nonsense.”

  Lois stared at him. “I don’t think it’s anything to do with those other muggings. I expect it was some idiot having what he would think was a bit of fun. Scaring old ladies would appeal to some. Other than that, I think he must have come too fast round the bend there, and lost control of the car. Then, having seen Mum disappearing through a hole in the wall, he scarpered.”

  “I dunno. I’m out of my depth, Lois dear. Let’s go to bed.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Lois was finding it difficult to concentrate on the business of New Brooms with the team of cleaners arriving for their weekly meeting. She could not escape a replay of finding her elderly mother in a state of collapse in the dark on muddy ground. She finally snapped to attention when Dot Nimmo said loudly, “Mrs. M, is there something wrong?” It was always Dot who dared to ask what the others were thinking.

  “Oh, sorry, Dot, and everybody. It’s just that my mother had a bit of an accident yesterday. She’s fine, as I’m sure you gathered when she let you in! But you know how it is with not-so-young people.”

  “Nice way of putting it, Lois,” said a voice from the hall. The office door had been left ajar, and Gran was outside.

  “You know they say eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves,” shouted Lois, and Dot grinned and got up to shut the door. “I can hear the kettle whistling, Mrs. Weedon,” she whispered out into the hall.

  Floss cleared her throat and asked if she could say something. Lois nodded, and Floss said she had been meaning to say it later, but last evening she had been walking back home when she saw a car coming at speed on the wrong side of the road. It was raining heavily and she couldn’t see the number, but she thought it was a Land Rover 4x4. She turned off into Blackberry Gardens and so didn’t see what happened, but she remembered thinking it was very dangerous if anyone was walking on the path. The spray was all over the place.

  “Thanks, Floss. That could be important if we have to do any reporting to the police. I have been on the phone all morning before you all arrived. Now, if we could get back to New Brooms business, let’s have client reports.”

  Dot said she would go last, so why didn’t Floss go first, as she had a new client?

  “Well, yes, I went with Mrs. M to meet Mrs. Prentise at Fletching. We had a good talk, and she gave us the impression that money was no object. It is a lovely house, and spotless, so should be a nice job for me.”

  “Sounds like a doddle! Does she have a family? No toys to trip over or nappy sacks left in a corner?”

  “No, she’s quite old. There’s one room that I have to leave alone. Mrs. Prentise does it herself. It is a girl’s room, all pink frills, and was her daughter’s. Apparently, the daughter returns sometimes, so it’s kept like a sort of shrine! A bit creepy, really.”

  “We’ll learn more when Floss starts next Friday. As far as I am concerned, Mrs. Prentise looks like the perfect client!” Lois turned her papers over, and work progressed. Finally, it was time to end the meeting, and they all filed out with best wishes for Gran to recover.

  Dot held back. “Can I have a private word, Mrs. M?” she said.

  “Shut the door, Dot. I have a little time before lunch.”

  “It’s about Mrs. Weedon’s escape from them.”

  “Dot? What on earth do you mean?”

  “Like I was telling you. Opportunity arises, and they go to work.”

  “So it was likely to have been them? And Gran? Was she in the wrong place at the wrong time? Sounds a little like a bad movie, Dottie.”

  “Well, if you don’t want to know, I’ll go home right n
ow.” Dot stood up, full of huff.

  “Don’t be daft! Come on, tell me what’s worrying you.”

  “It’s that Mrs. Prentise, our new client. I know she’s loaded, but her money was ill-gotten gains from her husband. He was a bit of a rival to my Handy in Tresham gangland. I’m not saying Floss will be in any danger or anything like that. It’s just that you know what a lovely, sympathetic girl she is. I wouldn’t want her to get too close to the old woman.”

  Lois sat down heavily in her chair. “Oh dear. Do you think we should send you instead?”

  “She probably wouldn’t accept me. We go back a long way, Diana Prentise and me. No, Floss will be fine, probably the ideal client, as you said. I’m sure you can give Floss a tactful warning. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. Sorry, Mrs. M.”

  Lois calmed her down, said that she was very glad to have such important information, and she would make sure Floss was warned before Friday, and then the girl would have the chance to back out, and Andrew could go in instead. “He would stand no nonsense. He’s quite tough, though most people think that because he is an interior designer, he must be a bit, you know . . .”

  Dot nodded. “Thanks for listening, Mrs. M. If I hear anything relating to Mrs. Weedon’s nasty experience, I’ll let you know.”

  * * *

  “What’s all that talking with Dot Nimmo?” Gran was standing in front of the Rayburn, potatoes bubbling in a pan behind her, arms akimbo, frowning. “I bet you told her about me falling about!”

  “Of course I told her, Mum. You know our Dot! If there’s any chance of finding out who drove straight at you in the dark, then our Dot is the best source of help.”

  “Mm, well, if you say so. I don’t want it spread all round the village, and you know what Dot Nimmo is.”

  “She lives in Tresham and doesn’t go anywhere in Farnden, unless it’s to a client.”

  “All round Tresham, then.”

  Lois gave up.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Over at Brigham, the bakehouse was warm from bread making all day. Aurora had been busy since four o’clock in the morning, and now, four o’clock in the afternoon, she made herself a cup of tea, made sure the bell from the shop was working and sat down in a comfortable chair with the newspaper. Milly had gone out, driving her mother’s car to Farnden to collect up some shopping, and then going on into Tresham. Lois and Aurora had lately set up a reciprocal arrangement: Aurora selling her special hand-baked bread as a new line in Josie’s shop and buying grocery basics in return.

  Two minutes after opening the newspaper, Aurora’s head drooped, and she fell into a light doze. She dreamed the old familiar dream, where Donald comes bounding up the steps into the house, kissing her affectionately on the cheek and pouring each of them a drink to tell her details of his selling trip. She felt the same stab of pleasure in having him home again, and, on waking to the shop bell’s piercing sound, the old throb of pain. It was a dream, and he would never be coming home again, ever. Nor would she have sleepless hours of useless jealousy wondering whose arms he was in that night. She reminded herself of the pain he had caused her over the years, and tried to dismiss the whole thing from her mind.

  Sighing deeply, she went through to the shop to see who had come in. She frowned. Nobody there? She went to the outer door and opened it. Stepping outside in case she could see someone leaving, she looked up and down the street and over at the main entrance to the Mill. Not a soul to be seen.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  This evening, as she often did, Josie closed the shop and walked up to Meade House to check all was well with her parents. And grandparent, of course. She found them sitting round the kitchen table, studying the Tresham Evening News.

  “Hello, me duck. Come and sit down,” said Derek.

  “There’s tea in the pot,” said Gran. “Or I can make you fresh?”

  “Pot will do fine,” said Josie and sat down next to Lois. “What are you all studying so seriously?” she asked.

  “Look at this!” said Gran, barely controlling her fury.

  Josie looked. On the front page, a very good photo of Gran appeared, occupying at least a quarter of the space. Underneath, the headline said:

  Old Lady Target for Hit-and-Run!

  “Oh dear,” said Josie. “Who is responsible for this? From what you told me, it was just a little splash, and Gran tripped and fell. But not seriously!”

  “Don’t ask me!” said Gran. “Dot Nimmo! I don’t intend to mention her ever again. She doesn’t exist, and I shall be very glad if Lois will reconsider and give her her cards.”

  “Oh dear,” repeated Josie. “But it’s a lovely photo of you, Gran. Don’t you think so, Dad? You look really glam!”

  “For an old lady,” said Gran, somewhat mollified. “But I still stand by what I say.”

  “So why don’t I change the subject and tell you about my day in the shop?”

  Lois looked gratefully at her daughter. “We could do with some nice news, love,” she said.

  “Well, Matthew went off on early duty, and so I opened up a little earlier than usual. The village is lovely at that time of day. Commuters not going through yet, and too early for the school run of four-by-fours, each with one child and its mother. Then the usual exciting shoppers buying a newspaper and a pack of sandwiches on their way to work in Tresham. My favourites come next.”

  “Dad and Mum and Gran?” Derek smiled fondly.

  Josie shook her head. “Nope. The village’s important population of retired ladies, emerging into the morning with their shopping bags and snippets of gossip. They congregate in the shop, make their purchases and have a talk among themselves. With cheery goodbyes to me, they leave. After that, I feel the best part of the day is over.”

  Gran sniffed. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she said.

  Josie shook her head. “No, I mean it, Gran. The older generation in our village mean a lot to me. I love to hear stories of the past, especially ones involving the shop. Maybe I’ll write a book about it one day.”

  “Good girl,” said Derek.

  “Did Aurora bring the bread?” said Lois.

  “Yes and no. The bread came, but Milly, her daughter, brought it and introduced herself. She’s really nice. Stayed and had a chat until someone else came in. She’s taking a year off to help her mother in the bakery. Then she goes back to nursing and a good job, she hopes. She’s very pretty, isn’t she, Mum? Not much like Donald to look at, except that dark hair.”

  “Let’s hope that’s the only resemblance,” said Lois. “We can do without another nonswimmer!”

  “Mum! I studiously avoided the subject. She must still be very cut up about it.”

  “Perhaps we should do a bit of matchmaking, and find her a husband. How about our Jamie? It’s time he made up his mind.”

  “Oh no, I think she is very much the career girl. Still, look at me! Excellent results in A-levels, and ended up behind a shop counter . . .”

  “I think shop owner, wife and maybe soon, we hope, mother, is a very busy career for anyone,” said Gran.

  “It’s not my shop. It’s Mum and Dad’s, and I just work there.” Josie frowned, and Lois looked meaningfully at Derek.

  “We might as well tell you now,” said Derek. “We intend to hand over the shop entirely to you, as soon as we’ve seen the lawyers. Partly because of inheritance tax, but mainly because you deserve to make it your own. Is that okay?”

  Josie rushed over and kissed them both, and said she was a horrid ungrateful daughter, but meant to make amends by opening a string of supergrocers named Meade’s Markets.

  “Must go now,” she added, “and do my bit as housewife and cook. See you tomorrow, Gran? Will you be down for your chockies?”

  After she had left, they looked at each other. “That’s done, then,” said Lois. “I think w
e can safely say she was pleased! Now, Mum, have you calmed down enough to read beyond the headline? I think you’ll find you come out as ‘Feisty Gran Fights Off Muggers.’”

  “Nice that she’s met Aurora’s daughter,” said Gran, ignoring Lois. “They could get to be good friends. Maybe Jamie will be back soon, and we can introduce them.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Milly Black’s ears were not burning as the Meades discussed her. She was too worried about her mother, who seemed nervous and unable to settle.

  The evening had dragged by, with Aurora clearly not wanting to talk. At nine o’clock, she said she thought she would have an early night. She had asked Milly to make sure to turn off the telly and gone up to bed, hoping for no bad dreams.

  All to be expected in bereavement, thought Milly. She had studied the subject, but now that it was her own mother, it was different. She herself had not dreamed about her father since his death. Maybe that was the more unusual reaction.

  She turned off the late news, which was full of doom and gloom as usual, and directed her thoughts towards nice Josie Vickers in the shop. A good friend, perhaps, for her year working for Mum in the bakery.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Next morning, Aurora felt anxious, on edge, and when Milly came back and was able to take over, she went out of the shop door into the sunshine. Three old men sat on the millpond wall, throwing food for the ducks.

  The men came from the White House, a nice old Victorian mansion at the top of the hill. It had been a small school, but now gave shelter and care for men who mostly had lived up to then on the streets. Now they were clean and relatively happy, though some talked wistfully of their nomadic lives. Occasionally, Aurora would join them on the wall and listen to their colourful life stories.

  “Are you okay, Mum?” Milly looked closely at her mother. She was very pale this morning, and her hands were shaking as she handed Milly a mug of coffee.