Scream for Sarah

by Veronica Heley

  I folded up the clothes and put them on the pile of Granny’s things which were to be burned, together with the boots. When I turned round, Hob was watching me, his eyes bright once again. Toby had gone into the house.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, and for some reason I kept my voice low. He pointed to the Mini.

  ‘Yes, it’s mine.’

  His eyes went opaque on me.

  ‘Why? Why shouldn’t the car be mine?’

  He limped over to it, and touched the dented wing, looking at me for an explanation. I didn’t understand. If only I’d used my brains and linked it up, then and there, we could have got out before the others came.

  ‘I bumped into the gatepost at the end of the lane,’ I said, not wishing to give Toby away. Hob’s face stiffened. I didn’t want to forfeit his good opinion of me, so I explained.

  ‘Toby borrowed the car the other night, and brought it back like that. It was careless of him, but he’s promised to pay the repair bill.’

  Hob stared at me, and then into the cottage. At that moment I realised that although he always played the idiot when Toby was around, with me he showed signs of being an intelligent and reasonable person. Holding my eye, Hob placed his bruised leg against the dented wing of the car. I didn’t understand. I stood there, frowning, until Toby came out and took charge of the situation. He was jangling my car keys.

  ‘I’m off, then,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how long the garage will take, so expect me when you see me.’

  ‘Could you get Hob some shoes?’ A pair of Granny’s bedroom slippers lay on the pile of debris. I fished them out and examined them. They might do for Hob until we could get him something better. I held them out to him, but he didn’t take them.

  ‘Not this morning,’ said Toby.

  ‘What will people think, if they see him going around like that?’

  ‘Who’s likely to see him? You said yourself no-one comes here, and that even the mail is left in that box on the road.’

  ‘Mr. Brent, for one. You remember that I told you a neighbour had been looking after the hens for us? He said he’d drop in when he could to discuss a price. He’s haymaking, so I don’t know when it will be—could be any time.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me.’

  ‘About Mr. Brent? I’m sure I did, but even if I didn’t, I don’t see that it makes any difference. Don’t worry, no-one else is likely to come here, except the furniture dealer, and that’s fixed for when I’m ready to leave.’

  ‘It’s just that I wanted this to be a nice, quiet holiday …’ I forbore to say that he had hardly spent any time at all with me as yet. ‘Well,’ he said, making up his mind, ‘I’ll take him, then. Put those slippers on, Hob, and we’ll be off.’

  I hugged him, to show my pleasure. He fondled my breast, and I drew away, for I didn’t like it when men made a beeline for my breasts. Hob was taking his time putting the slippers on, so Toby hauled him up and pushed him into the Mini, throwing the slippers after him. I waved them off; Hob peering through the back window at me until the car disappeared round the bend.

  They must have reached the end of the lane only minutes before Mr. Brent got there, since I hardly had time to decide what task to tackle next before I heard his car arrive. I’ve known James Brent since I was a child and used to go with my grandmother along the footpath across the Scarecrow field and through the kissing gate to his farm in order to fetch the milk. He was a square, well-tailored figure of a man who farmed in a big way, and was rarely seen out of immaculate riding boots, even though he didn’t hunt. I liked him, and he had liked my grandparents, so that we had plenty to talk about. It was on the cards that he would put in a private offer for the house and garden, and although I couldn’t talk prices with him, I did tell him that my parents would rather sell to him than put Elm Tree House on the open market.

  It would suit my parents to get rid of the property quickly, even though they knew they might be able to get an inflated price from a commuter to the City; and everyone knew that Mr. Brent was anxious to acquire the house, because his head cowman’s son wanted to get married and would be forced to take a job in town if he couldn’t find accommodation nearby.

  We had a look at the hens, and he offered to send round a couple of lads the following morning to collect them and whatever eggs I had on hand. All I would have to do was to shut them into the henhouse tonight, and keep them shut in till his men arrived. I said I didn’t care what price he gave us for the hens, so long as he took them away immediately, and he laughed and said he could see I hadn’t learned anything, working in the big city.

  We talked of his married son, who was now farming about ten miles away, and with whom I had played as a child. His wife was now expecting her first baby. Then, inevitably, we talked of the Jazz Festival. I didn’t realise how much bad feeling it had caused in the neighbourhood.

  ‘Roads jammed for miles—people sleeping in my far barn without so much as asking—gates left open—young girls with babies clinging to them, traipsing around with no regard for their children’s health—and the litter! The organisers say they’re going to clear up afterwards, and no doubt they will, on the site itself. They’re using Thomas’s big field—you remember it?—and the paddock beyond it. He’ll be all right, and he’s being paid for the inconvenience, but what about my fields? And everyone else’s within a range of miles? There’s been a knifing already, and the wife refuses to allow the youngsters down to the village, or to go off on their own as they usually do; so they’re up in arms about that! It’s the drug cases that worry her, thinking that our lot might want to try some … I don’t think they would, but maybe—in a crowd—you never know. Then I’ve had the police around, wasting my time, about the suicide in the river down by the pollarded willows; I told them it wasn’t on my property down where you used to go fishing with my lad, remember?’

  ‘Ugh! The weeds! I remember I wanted to go swimming there once, and got belted for it.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t know about the weeds, and went for a swim … full of drink or drugs, for all I know. Just left his car and his clothes … He’ll come up when he’s full of gas, maybe. Maybe not. Remember when we lost a cow down that way once? Should have got compensation for that, by rights.’

  ‘I want to go to the Festival, though. Just to see what it’s like. Toby, that’s a friend of mine who’s staying here for a few days …’ Mr. Brent gave me a teasing look. ‘Well, there may be nothing in it, but he’s at a loose end and offered to help me clear the place out. Toby said he might take me tonight.’

  ‘Finishes tonight. Have you got tickets? They say it’s all sold out.’

  I shook my head, disappointed. It didn’t look as if I was going to get to the Festival, after all.

  James Brent started to laugh. ‘You know how much they’re paying Thomas? He didn’t really want to rent his field to this Festival crowd, so he asked five times what he thought they’d pay, and they agreed straight off. So he got upset because he thought he could have asked even more, and now he’s got them to agree to pay him for parking, and supplying water, and laying on portable toilets and the Lord knows what else. No haymaking this year for Thomas; he’s got his men working round the clock down there, putting up fences and humping in tons of sausages and crates of soft drinks and directing parking … He’s set to make a packet out of it, and what’s more, he’ll get most of his money in cash, if I know him, so he’ll diddle the income tax people, too!’

  After Mr. Brent had gone, I set to work on the linen cupboard, throwing out what couldn’t be used by the family, and packing the rest away in an ancient steamer trunk. It was mid-afternoon before I realised that I’d missed my lunch.

  Then my Mini came down the lane, followed by a big blue van, and it was too late for that. Or for flight.

  Toby was driving the Mini, and he was alone. He got out, stretched and grinned at me.

  ‘Where’s Hob?’ I asked, suddenly uneasy.

  Toby jerked his head at the van. �
�Got a mite restless, so we locked him in there for safety.’

  The van jolted to a halt, just short of the garage. It was shiny and looked new. A big, dark man in a dirty T-shirt was driving it, and there was a woman sitting beside him. They gave me the sort of glance which drivers of large cars reserve for pedestrians, and turned their attention to Toby, who was opening up the garage. He reversed his car out of the garage, and around the side of the house into the garden, out of sight of anyone entering the yard.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

  No one took the slightest notice of me. The van was driven into the garage and parked there, also out of sight.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I repeated, as Toby came round the side of the cottage, pocketing car keys.

  He didn’t reply, but unlocked the back doors of the van to pull Hob down and out into the yard. Hob staggered, blinking in the strong sunlight. He located me and came to crouch at my shoulder. His hands had been tied together behind his back with string, and there was a fresh bruise on his cheek.

  ‘That’s not necessary!’ I said, angrily attacking the string round his wrists. And you didn’t buy him any shoes, I see.’

  ‘I met these friends of mine,’ said Toby smoothly. He seemed to be enjoying a joke of some kind. ‘We haven’t seen each other for ages, and all the time we were talking, Hob kept trying to run away, so we put him in the back of the van for safety and came back. I told my friends I was sure you would be pleased to give them a meal and to put them up for the night.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ I jerked Hob free. He was trying to tell me something. To warn me? His eyes were eloquent, but even if he could have spoken, I couldn’t have done anything about it.

  Toby waved the burly man forward. ‘Sid, meet Sarah, who has offered to put you up tonight.’

  Sid looked me over and decided I wasn’t his type. That was all right with me, for he wasn’t my type, either. I thought Hob kept himself cleaner than Sid, and besides, I’ve never liked men with beer barrels for stomachs.

  ‘And this is Rose!’

  Rose stood with one hip thrown out, model fashion, and looked me over. She was wearing a strapless, bra-less top and sleek slacks. It was the sort of outfit which looked marvellous if you had the equipment to fill it—which she had. She was tall—a good five foot nine in her heavy heels, and she wore the longest pair of false eyelashes that I’ve ever seen. She was also wearing an expensive perfume. A more unlikely companion for Sid you could hardly imagine. I looked at her and then at Toby, and I knew without having to have it spelled out for me that Rose was Toby’s girl, and that their relationship was not that of ‘old’ friends, but very much of the present.

  Rose didn’t say she was pleased to meet me, because she wasn’t. She looked around her and shrugged, as if to say that it was beyond her to comment on the uncivilised surroundings to which Toby had brought her.

  My eyes switched to Toby, who was watching us both. He was smiling.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, and heard my voice ring flat in the sunny yard. Hob sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

  ‘I don’t understand!’ My voice rose. Everyone but me seemed to be in on the secret, and I didn’t like it.

  Sid cleared his throat. I waited for him to spit, but he didn’t. He jerked his head towards me, but addressed himself to Toby. ‘Didn’t you tell her, then?’

  ‘No. I haven’t told her anything.’

  Sid twisted his eyebrows. He was not used to thinking quickly. ‘But you said …’

  ‘I said there’d be someone to drive the van, I know. But Reggie couldn’t make it. I phoned him last night, and again this morning but he’s still tied up with the bogies watching his every move on account of that big job he pulled last month. He can’t slip away without bringing them up here after him.’

  The bogies. That was a cant term for police, wasn’t it? A big job—a robbery? Drive the van—for what purpose? I opened my mouth to demand explanations, and Toby got in first.

  ‘You don’t understand!’ He was mocking me. ‘How very dumb you are. The Festival, nitwit! With oodles and oodles of lovely money rolling in. The turnstile money, the rent for the field, and the rights for parking and toilets and food. All the money’s been kept in a safe supplied by Old Farmer Thomas and guarded night and day by his trusty men. He doesn’t like banks, he doesn’t. He’s afraid the Inland Revenue will spirit all his profits away if he checks the money into a bank. He wants his cut in cash, doesn’t he—the greedy old man! He made it a condition of allowing the Festival Committee to use his site, that he should have his cut in cash on the last day of the Festival. The tickets are sold out, and they know precisely how much money they have coming in. At this very minute Old Farmer Thomas is sitting in front of the safe counting out his share, closely watched by his band of men, and by the members of the Committee. And early this evening one of the better-known Security Firms is going to send a van to the site to collect the rest of the money and bank it. Only we’re going to nip in first and collect the money before the real Security Firm gets a chance to lay their hands on it. A good scheme, eh?’

  Rose spoke from behind me. ‘She’s hardly tall enough.’ I jumped, and sidestepped Hob to face her. She was frowning, but delicately, so as not to disturb her paint job.

  ‘Why shouldn’t the little man drive?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought of that,’ said Toby. ‘But he’s slippery as an eel. Nearly got away from me twice today, and his feet are in such a mess I doubt if he could handle the van’s pedals properly, even if we could induce him to play ball. He’s hardly what you’d call responsible, either. I wouldn’t put it past him to stall the van at the crucial moment, just for the hell of it. No, Sarah will have to drive for us.’

  ‘I’ll see you damned first!’ I shook with rage and fear. Hob’s hand was round my ankle, and I kicked him off. ‘Get out of here! Get out, the lot of you! If you aren’t off my property in five minutes, I’ll call the police.’

  No one moved.

  I counted the odds against me, and then swung into the house. Hob followed me. He was making signs, but I was in no mood to stop and work out what he was trying to tell me. I snatched up the phone and jiggled the rest. No dialling tone. Nothing.

  ‘The phone’s dead,’ said Toby, following us. Sid and Rose came in, too. Toby locked the door and put the key in his pocket; quite a collection of keys he must have on his person. ‘I cut the cable myself, after you tried to make that phone call to the police about Hob yesterday. You said yourself that we’re not likely to have any more visitors. We’re on our own now, so let’s get down to business.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Let’s face it,’ said Toby winningly, ‘Nobody will lose a penny except the insurance companies.’

  We sat around the table, the three conspirators and me. Hob sat on the floor beside me, and now and then his hand touched my ankle as if to warn me of the need for self-control.

  ‘It’s still crime,’ I replied. I felt stunned. While Toby talked, I sat stiffly in my chair, trying to work out how I had got myself into this mess.

  ‘Redistribution of wealth,’ said Toby, smiling. Sid smiled, too, but Rose didn’t; she watched me with wide-open, cat-like, greenish eyes.

  ‘I’m playing Robin Hood, if you like to look at it that way.’ He moved his hands expansively in the air as he talked, his shoulders wide and his expression ingenuous.

  ‘What sort of person are you?’ I wondered. ‘Are you a full-time crook? No, you can’t be, with a job in our firm.’

  ‘I’ve not been there long, you know. Just long enough to establish a few contacts. No, I’m not a full-time crook yet, because I’m careful. I choose my jobs carefully, plan them well beforehand and spend the money a little at a time. I invest most of what I earn, because I intend to retire early. That’s why I take an ordinary nine to five job every once in a while; to keep my hand in, to provide myself with a front, and a host of useful acquaintances—like yoursel
f!’

  ‘I never did invite you down here!’

  ‘No, I could see it hadn’t occurred to you to do so, but it was easy enough to persuade you into thinking that you had.’

  ‘You were never interested in me as a person …’

  ‘Not until I learned where you were intending to spend this week, when I became very, very interested. We’d been planning this job for some time, and originally I had thought we would have to travel back to London straight after the job, still in disguise. I was working on the problem of trying to find a suitable overnight stopping place where we could shed the van and our uniforms when I heard one of the girls in your office joking about your misfortune in having to postpone your holiday. She said you were so desperate for company that you’d even asked your flatmate if she could get leave to join you. It seemed providential. All I had to do at the office party was to see that you drank more than usual, and plant the idea that you’d asked me down.’

  I could feel myself going scarlet with mortification. I tried to hit back.

  ‘An amateur!’ I sneered.

  ‘A successful one. Four jobs in four years, and I clear ten thousand a year, tax free.’

  ‘Is that before or after Rose and Sid take their cuts?’

  ‘Before or after tax, in other words? After, of course.’

  ‘And they are both amateurs, too?’

  ‘Rose is, although Sid is what they call ‘well-known to the police’. This is only the second time that Rose has worked with me, although as you’ve probably guessed, we’ve known each other socially for a long time. Sid’s cousin usually works with us, but as you’ve heard, Reggie is tied up elsewhere at the moment, which is where you come in.’