by Ann Purser
Derek had been reluctant, but had come back in and answered the inspector’s questions. “Didn’t know the bloke at all,” he’d said. “Just seen him at the bar, chatting up the barmaids. Best ask Geoff Boggis, the landlord.”
“We will,” Cowgill had nodded. “But did you say he chatted up the barmaids? Bit old for that, wasn’t he?”
Derek shook his head. “Not in that way,” he’d replied. “It was just a bit of fun…always the perfect gent, as far as I could see. You know the sort. Ex-army, or so he said.”
“Mmm,” said Cowgill. He had had a few more words with Lois, then looked at her exhausted face and wound it up. “I’ll be in touch,” he said at the door. “And you know the form…anything more you come across, let me know through…no, on second thoughts, ring me direct on this number.” He scribbled on a piece of paper and gave it to her, and left quickly, nodding goodbye to Derek.
Lois put the paper into her apron pocket and began to wash up. As she took off the apron later, she felt the paper crackle. She pulled it out and read the number, and then something else: “And don’t forget Alibone Woods,” he’d written. Well, that was clear. She knew all about Alibone Woods.
Now she pulled up outside the Stratfords’ house, the last in a row of six council houses, with a neat front garden and newly painted front door. Lois breathed deeply, relaxed, and prepared to be reassured. Sheila was very reassuring. She smiled, gave Lois a cup of hot coffee and a home-made biscuit, and answered her questions with just enough information and no gossip.
“Why do you want to work for me?” Lois said finally, sure that here was someone she could happily appoint her deputy when needed. “I’m sure there’s enough domestic work in Waltonby to keep you busy all week.”
Sheila nodded, and said simply, “That’s just it, Mrs Meade. I want to get out of the village. It’s all too close, working for women who know each other. I don’t like being the gossipmonger-in-chief, although I’d have every opportunity!”
Lois laughed. “I know all about that! A degree in diplomacy – that’s what you need,” she said.
And what else? Once again, Inspector Cowgill’s words came back to her. She would have to glean information, she knew that. She would also have to use her cleaners, but not let them know about it. If they suspected, that would be much too dangerous. Well, it was probably not going to be easy, but first things first. She intended to recruit a good team to make a successful business, and Cowgill would have to come low on her present list of priorities.
Sheila Stratford beamed as Lois left. She’d got the job, and could start as soon as possible. Lois would give her a ring, intending to have a first meeting of all her cleaners, introduce them to each other, and give them prepared schedules. There was a spring in Lois’s step that had not been there earlier, and she whistled as she got into her car and set off for the Readings’.
Her good mood was, for once, not shattered by Bridie Reading’s greeting. Bridie looked cheerful and confident. “Come on in,” she said. “Hazel’s here. Says you might want her on the team as well?”
“Mmm, well,” said Lois, “we’ll need to talk about that. And no thanks, Bridie, no coffee. Just had some, thanks. No, let’s get on with it.”
She explained to Bridie about the intended meeting, and then turned to Hazel. “You’d be a lot younger than the others,” she said, “though Gary Needham is still in his twenties.”
“Gary Needham?” Hazel’s expression was strange.
“D’you know him, then?” said Lois.
Hazel shrugged. “Seen him around,” she said. Then she added with a odd smile, “So there’ll be a man on the team? Wow, Mrs M, that’s cool! Could jolly things up a bit…”
Lois, seeing complications ahead, said, “Now listen to me, Hazel, if I do employ you, you’ll toe the line with the others. No special favours because me and your mum are friends. I shall expect respect, and the first signs of trouble you’ll be out on your ear. You’ll be working for all sorts of people, and you’ll keep your clever comments to yourself. You will have to be punctual, polite and thorough in your work. I shall check on everybody at first, until I know how things are going.”
“So, is it on, then?” said Hazel, grinning broadly. “Gimme ago?”
Lois sighed. Against my better judgement, she thought, but looked at Bridie’s face, so bright and optimistic for once, and nodded agreement. “A trial period,” she said. “One month, and then we’ll review it.”
“Does that go for the others, too?” said Hazel, bridling.
“I’m still thinking about it,” said Lois. “But it’s a definite for you, so take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” said Hazel, and to Lois’s surprise she crossed the room and shook Lois by the hand.
“All right, then,” Lois said, “and now on to the hot topic in Waltonby this morning.”
“The major?” said Bridie, settling herself comfortably. “Well, ask Hazel. She knows all about him. Go on, love, tell Lois. She won’t let it go no further.”
♦
Much of what Hazel had to tell was barmaids’ speculation. She and Prue had felt sorry for the major at first, and made a fuss of him. At least, Hazel had. Prue found it difficult, said Hazel, being brought up differently. In the end, both had had much the same experience. Leaving the pub late one Saturday night, Hazel had heard someone following her, and discovered the major a few paces behind. “Just watching over you, my dear,” he’d said, and she’d not been alarmed. But then he’d come closer and taken her arm. “When we got to his gate,” Hazel said to an attentive Lois, “he sort of steered me towards his house. I tried to say I’d got to get home, and Dad would be furious if I was late, but he didn’t take no notice. Said he’d got something to show me. In the end, I just pulled free and ran off.” She paused, and Lois waited. “The worst of it,” Hazel continued, “was him laughing. I could hear it all down the street. Gave me the shivers. I was more careful with him after that, though Prue did go in, and came out in one piece.”
“Doesn’t he have any friends in the village?” said Lois, resisting the temptation to ask Hazel if she’d told her father.
Time for that later. She remembered Derek saying the major was always on his own in the pub, and never mixed with the others. She was curious to know where he came from, what he did for a living.
“Nope, no friends I’ve ever seen,” said Hazel. “A loner, and no wonder. Though my dad says he knows for a fact he didn’t have nothing to do with the army.” She and her mother exchanged looks. So Hazel had told her father, and there’d been repercussions.
“Didn’t join in anything in the village?” said Lois.
Hazel shook her head. “Went to Tresham every week, regular as clockwork. Oh, and I think Geoff Boggis said he used to do a bit of amateur dramatics. Some acting lot in Tresham, I think.”
Bridie, sitting quietly while her daughter was speaking, now chipped in, “He’d be good at that…acting…Dick says he’s been acting a part for years. He hates him, Lois. Or did…” Her voice tailed off as she remembered.
“Anyway,” said Hazel, “why do want to know so much about him, Mrs M? You said yourself he was nothing to do with you.”
“I found him, didn’t I?” said Lois.
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Ten
The first meeting of New Brooms was a success. Lois had ushered her new employees into the big front room, and sunlight streaming in the window had warmed the atmosphere. Not that it was particularly cool. Bridie and Hazel had arrived first, and then Sheila Stratford, and, ten minutes later, Gary Needham. His unpunctual arrival had been the only blot on the proceedings. He’d apologized profusely, of course, and had a watertight excuse. Lois had not made much of it, apart from hoping this was not going to be a habit, and then got on with the business. It was only later that she remembered with some unease that all the women had smiled fondly on Gary and sympathized with his failure to get away from an urgent telephone call from his gra
ndmother.
“Grandmother?” said Derek, as they sat over a sandwich lunch. “That’s an old one. Reckon you might have trouble with that one, Lois. Still, it’s your business,” he added hastily. “You’ll know best.”
Lois laughed. “Well done, Derek,” she said, and blew him a crumby kiss. “Spect there’ll be mistakes,” she added, “and then you can say you told me so.”
She had explained how the cleaning business was to work, and Sheila Stratford had made some tentative but helpful suggestions. Lois had a list of clients, most of them the result of the advertisements for staff. There was clearly going to be no difficulty finding work for her team. She handed out the schedules, and Hazel was the first to speak.
“Oh, great, Mrs M! You’ve given me the vicar, old Rogers. He’s not a bad old bloke. And everybody says he needs a good woman!”
“Yes, well,” said Lois, “don’t forget he’s the Rev Rogers to you. And never mind about good women…you’re there to clean his house, and that’s all.”
“Blimey!” answered Hazel, with a grin at Gary. “You don’t think I’d – ” She was cut short by a sharp kick on the ankle from her mother, and subsided obediently. Lois had also scheduled Hazel to work with her at the hall, where she could keep an eye on her.
“Everything all right for you, Sheila?” said Lois. She had allocated Sheila and Gary the doctor’s surgery in Tresham, thinking the older woman would be a good influence. It was a partnership on the edge of town, and in a new, attractive building. “Not too big,” she explained, and Gary said yes, he knew it well. His aunt was a patient there. Lois explained the need for absolute confidentiality: “And that goes for you all,” she stressed. “Whatever you see or hear, it is to go no further. The least bit of gossip’ll mean the sack for New Brooms.”
She looked around. “And Bridie? Everything OK for you?” She had given Bridie local jobs, sensing that her friend was not as confident as her extrovert daughter, and might like to be close to home. It had been encouraging, though, to see Bridie’s happy face, and Lois had felt like touching wood. There was a lot riding on the success of New Brooms.
♦
The rest of the week was spent shopping for cleaning equipment – a more expensive outlay than Lois had bargained for – and making sure that everyone knew what they were doing, and clients knew who to expect and when. Derek came and went, and kept out of Lois’s way, except when he could see she was tired and needed propping up. The children were difficult. It had been bad enough having a mother who went out cleaning, but now she was running a business that was going to take up even more time; they felt left out and resentful. Josie was not so bad. She had admired Hazel Reading from afar on the school bus, and was pleased that she might see more of her now. But Douglas and Jamie were edgy and quarrelsome.
“They’ll be all right, me duck,” Derek said periodically. “Once you’re up and runnin’, it’ll fall into place. Don’t worry, leave ‘em to me.” And he’d organized a trip to the Space Centre at Leicester for the weekend, hoping that would take their mind off their distracted mother.
The first Monday for New Brooms arrived with a gusting wind, drifting showers, and occasional bursts of encouraging sunshine. Lois had just waved Derek off to work, seen that all the kids had safely boarded the school bus, and was settling nervously in her office to await problem telephone calls, when a van drew up outside. It was a white van, with a large rose and the Interflora device clearly visible. A tap at the front door revealed a pleasant-faced woman bearing a large bouquet. “Mrs Meade?” she said, and handed them over.
Lois took the flowers into the kitchen, thinking how lovely it was of Derek to think of such a thing. Then she opened the little gift card, and read the words: ‘Congratulations and Good Luck to New Brooms. H.C.’. Well, that wasn’t too difficult. Hunter Cowgill. Lois breathed in the heady scent of lilies and roses, and wondered what to do. Since when did the cops send out bouquets, for God’s sake? But then, Hunter Cowgill had demonstrated only too clearly that he was no ordinary cop. And how was she going to explain it to Derek? Sod it, she muttered, and began to unwrap the blooms. “New Blooms!” she said suddenly, and began to laugh. There was no doubt a bunch of flowers cheered you up, whoever’d sent it. The telephone began to ring, and with a lighter heart Lois lifted it up, feeling ready for anything.
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Eleven
The manager at Dalling Hall was incandescent. “How did they do it?” he repeated, until Lois finally said, “Look, I have no idea. I just found him. Yes, I know it’s bad publicity, but you can be sure I shall not say anything. Mind you,” she could not resist adding, “I don’t see the press keeping quiet. Pretty juicy story, really. Dead body inside knight’s armour in remote church. Upmarket hotel denies any knowledge, etc etc.”
She held the telephone away from her ear, until the shouting stopped. “If I were you,” she said soothingly, “I should think of a way of turning it into a good thing – you know, scene of the crime…come and play detective, that kind of thing?”
There was silence while he thought of that one. “You know, Lois,” he said finally in his normal voice, “you could be on to a good thing. Have to OK it with the police, of course, but it could be a big attraction. Well, I knew I’d think of something!” he added breezily, and rang off.
“Well, there’s gratitude,” said Lois into the dead telephone.
She looked at her schedule for the team, and wondered how they were all getting on. Chiefly she wondered about Gary and Sheila. It was an unlikely combination, but could be good. Sheila would curb Gary’s garrulous tendencies, very necessary when all the work had to be done before surgery opened. Neither of them had quibbled about starting really early in the morning. In fact, Sheila had welcomed it, saying her husband was always off to the farm at dawn; and even Gary had smiled and said how pleased his mum would be to see him out of bed before midday. Hazel had laughed at that, and Lois had made a mental note not to put those two together on any job. She lifted the telephone and dialled Sheila’s number.
“How did it go, then? I’ll just be checking for the first week with everyone. Hope you don’t mind.” Lois wondered if she was being too tentative.
But this approach worked with Sheila Stratford, who replied in a warm voice that she was hoping Lois would ring, as she was really longing to tell her about their early morning in the surgery. “First of all,” she said, “I expect you’ll be wanting to know if Gary was there on time! Well, yes, he was, waiting for me at the door!” They’d set to work straight away, and had found most of the consulting rooms tidy and little trouble to clean. But one, the old doctor’s, was a real mess, things all over the place that should have been locked away. “Gary said straight away he’d tackle it. Went at it like a dose of salts! He’s a nice lad, Lois. I reckon you’ve got a good ‘un there. No, there were no problems really…except…”
“Yes?” prompted Lois.
“It was just I had this funny feeling…silly really. Gary laughed at me, but he wasn’t there when I heard it. Just a little noise now and then, like somebody having a rootle around.” Sheila paused, and Lois frowned.
“Could it have been one of the surgery staff, come in early?” she said. Blimey, Sheila was the last person she’d have suspected of nervous fancies! No, there was probably a simple explanation. “Mice?” she suggested.
Sheila’s good, wholesome laugh was reassuring. “That’s what Gary said,” she answered. “But I’ve seen enough to know all the signs of mice – and rats, come to that! No, I expect it was birds in the roof, somethin’ like that. Anyway, don’t worry, Lois, we’ll get it sorted. So, a good report, really, and both of us enjoyed it too.”
“Can’t want for better than that, then,” said Lois, but put down the telephone feeling oddly uneasy.
Hazel and Bridie had both started in houses in Waltonby, though it had apparently been a struggle persuading Richard Reading that there was nothing to be ashamed of in having ‘his wom
en’, as he called them, cleaning in their own village. “Skivvying! Good God, what would my mother have said!” Quite a lot, Bridie had thought, remembering the old battleaxe who’d given her such a hard time before she died. Dick had inherited all her ire, and none of his father’s gentle kindness, unfortunately. Bridie had not seen this before her marriage, but it had soon become apparent. Now, fortified by a new independence, and the full support of her daughter, she realized she could at least face up to his onslaughts without total collapse.
“Cheerio, then,” she’d said, as she set off for the big farmhouse in Waltonby’s back road. Hazel had gone in the opposite direction, and had blown her mother a kiss as she turned the corner. Dick Reading had fumed on his own for a while, then slammed out of the house and set off for Dalling Hall, where he had a delivery to make.
Lois, still sitting by the telephone, reflected that perhaps she had had the worst of it. The others were off on exciting new projects, whilst she had little to do today except worry about them. She was glad she had decided to carry on with Hazel on Tuesdays at Dalling Hall. She was sure it was a good thing to keep her hands on the broom, in a manner of speaking.
♦
Hazel Reading was in fine form, taking care to be brisk but thorough. The job was at a new stone house on the edge of Waltonby, one of a small estate built on a paddock that had once been grazed by sturdy ponies belonging to the village’s carrier.
“Um, whatever you’re having, Mrs Jordan,” Hazel said, halfway through her three hours and gasping for a drink. The central heating was overpowering, and the physical work of cleaning and polishing had warmed her up to a rosy glow.
“Do sit down for minute, then,” said Mrs Jordan, and put a cup of steaming coffee in front of Hazel. In minutes, it seemed, the woman had told her her life story, and Hazel had listened with interest. No information is wasted, she reckoned. You never knew when it might come in useful. She remembered Lois’s strictures about gossip, and wondered if she dare answer any of the pointed questions fired at her. But the bar work in the pub stood her in good stead, and she managed to be polite and give very little information in return.
