by Ann Purser
Max shivered in a sudden gust of icy wind, and hunched his shoulders, his thoughts roaming dismally on. He should have stuck to his own, to old mates from his part of town who were as keen on the aims of the Society as he was. Members like Annabelle T-J and her snooty friends were in it for a lark, Max knew that. But he’d been flattered when they listened to his speeches and cheered him on. Annabelle and Sharon. They were much too big a risk. One rich and snooty, and the other spoilt and dim-witted. What a combination! He should never have let them come along.
He tried not to think about his ignominious exit from Annabelle’s flat. I gave them a good fright, he told himself. That’ll keep their mouths shut. But in his heart he knew otherwise. He knew now that the Wycombe Society was finished. Cowgill was a chilly bloke, nosed about like a ferret, and was known not to rest until he got an answer.
There was rain in the wind now, and he turned back, wondering how he was going to pass the time and when it would be safe to go and look for food. A service station shop would be the best place. Once it got dark, it was all anonymous passing trade, registering nothing with the assistants. He’d not wear his shades. Without them, he considered, he was just another good-looking guy with a great car. But what to do now? He couldn’t stay outside in the rain. It was miserable and cold in the cottage, and the telly didn’t work. His spirits sank to rock bottom.
Then his mobile rang. He fumbled in his pocket, anxious to answer it before the caller gave up.
“Hello! Who’s that?” The signal was bad, and the voice broken up and difficult to hear. But he knew the voice, and it was friendly. Stan said in plain and simple words, “Get out, Max. Cowgill is on your tail. Yer mum squealed.” Then the line went dead, and Max put the phone back in his pocket. So the ferret was after him. Better get going. But where?
He collected up his few belongings, and locked the house, putting the key back under the flower pot. Best not to leave traces. He had no desire to help Cowgill.
The car roared down the track and out on to the narrow lane. He was away, and as he drove he turned over in his mind possible plans. He had to outwit Cowgill and hide up for a bit until a long-term solution came to him. He turned on the radio. Nothing on the news about a hunt for Darren Cockshutt, otherwise known as Max Wedderburn. He listened to the radio’s relentless, thudding music that filled his car, and continued to think. Suddenly he punched the air, and accelerated hard along the fast lane. Yes! He’d got it. A double bluff. He knew now where he would be safe. He began to whistle tunelessly through his discoloured teeth, and, endangering life and limb, dialled Stan’s number on his mobile.
JAMIE HAD ARRIVED AT THE RAILWAY STATION ON TIME and Derek was there to meet him. They’d said nothing most of the way home, until Long Farnden was in sight. Then Derek began, “Listen, Jamie old son, I got somethin’ to say. Not much, but it might help. I met your mother when she was your age, but I was a bit older, and she weren’t the first. Best not to mention that. No, I’d bin around a bit, testing the water. But when I saw her at the counter in Woolworths, that were it. Never looked at anybody else.” Jamie shifted uneasily in his seat.
Derek grinned and continued, “Not much more. Just that I knew she was the one. Now your Annabelle, she’s a different kettle of fish. Her sort don’t settle down so soon, not unless she meets a millionaire. She’ll play the field for a while yet. So don’t break yer heart, son. Look around. When you get to university, there’ll be hundreds of girls, all more or less available.” He stopped the van and Jamie got out to open the gates.
He waited until his father had closed the garage doors, and then said, “Thanks, Dad. But I do know, just like you did with Mum. Still, I’ll think on it.”
Gran greeted him with her usual enthusiasm, and Lois followed it up with a smacking kiss, which he tolerated stoically. “What’s all this?” he said. “Anybody’d think I’d come back from the battlefield.”
“Yeah, well,” said Lois. She looked at him closely. He was pale and tense. So something had happened. “Let’s hope no battles came your way,” she said lightly. Although she was desperately worried for his safety, she knew that quizzing him would be useless. Sooner or later she would be told. But not too late. “You’re just in time for the match,” she said. “Telly’s on, and the vicar and Mrs. Mackerras are watching the news.”
“I thought she was going home.” Jamie was disappointed that they’d not have the house to themselves. When it was just him and his dad, they could shout and swear at the screen with joyful abandon, but with a vicar and that poor woman sitting there … well …
“Not for a while,” Lois said. “There’s more police tests to be done. And she’s got some things to sort out. Still a lot of confusion,” she said with emphasis, fixing Jamie with a baleful look. “I’ll be in my office if you think of anythin’ you got to tell me.”
Jamie thought of his loving farewell from Annabelle. He had reluctantly agreed not to say anything about Max Wedderburn, though he knew it was important and he should at least tell his parents. But Annabelle had been so sure that harm would come to her unless they kept quiet. He had not seen her so frightened before, and could not even bear to think about what Max or his evil lot might do. Still, he’d not exactly promised. His actual words, which rang in his head now, were, “I love you, Annabelle. I’d do anything for you. So I’ll not say anything for the moment. Probably it’ll all get sorted without us having to tell.” Now, away from her, he knew that if Wedderburn looked like getting away with it, he would have to speak.
The telephone rang, and Lois disappeared into her office. “Hello? Oh, it’s you. Where are you? Wales? Oh, on the way to Wales. And you’ve seen what? It’s a bad line … A car? Well, you would, on a motorway …” Lois shifted the receiver to her other ear and reached for a pen. “Jamie’s mobile number? Well, he’s here, so you can speak to him now if you like. What’s it about? Max Wedderburn? Well, why should Jamie know about it? For God’s sake, Cowgill, what are you up to? Jamie’s safety?” Her tone changed. “Right, I’ll get him,” she snapped.
She went out into the hall and yelled for Jamie. He came down the stairs two at a time, and went into her office, shutting the door behind him. “I’m having none of that,” Lois muttered, and opened it again, following him in. She sat down opposite and listened. He answered Cowgill’s questions in monosyllables, a hunted look on his face. She could see he was near to tears. “Well, OK then. If it’s really important,” he said, and then he related the entire shocking incident in Annabelle’s flat, adding at the end, “and the last I saw of him, he was skidding round the corner in his flash car.” Cowgill said something, and Jamie grunted assent. “I reckon I’m a match for that rat,” he said. Then he handed the phone to Lois. “I hope you’re satisfied,” he flung at her as he left her office. “Annabelle will finish with me now, for sure.” He banged the door behind him, and Lois heard his footsteps going slowly up the stairs. She felt like weeping herself, but lifted the phone to her ear and said, “So, what next?”
DEREK WATCHED THE MATCH, AND BRIAN AND MARION were politely interested. When it was finished, and they’d had their last cups of tea with Gran, neither the vicar nor Marion made a move to go up to bed. Derek was always last, and liked to see to locking up and leaving the house safe for the night. But now he didn’t quite know what to do.
“Um, I think I’ll be going up now,” he said.
“Right,” smiled Brian. “Glad your team won! Sweet dreams for tonight, anyway.”
Derek moved hesitantly towards the door. “So you’ll both be … um …?”
Marion looked at Brian, who said quietly, “I wonder, Derek, if you’d mind if we stayed up for bit. We have a couple of things to talk about, and it’s so peaceful here in your sitting room. We’d be most grateful …”
Derek nodded. “Course you can,” he said. “Just put the lights out. See you in the morning, then. G’night.”
After he had gone, and the house was quiet, Marion said, “So I suppose I’d
better tell you the rest now.”
Brian frowned. “Not if it’s too painful. We could leave it for a few weeks if it’s too much for you. I don’t suppose it’s that urgent.”
Marion sighed. “I think it may be important,” she said. “To do with the fire, and how Sandy …” She stopped, and Brian silently handed her a tissue.
“As I said,” she continued, “Sandy had been told something … some chap in Tresham that he got to know through the office. He said that at first he just laughed at this bloke—I think he said his name was Max—and told him he knew perfectly well that you were … well, gay … and it didn’t bother him. Then apparently Max got nasty, and said that it had certainly bothered Sandy’s mother … me … and he should find out what happened to his father in that so-called accident.”
“Oh, my God,” said Brian, and put his head in his hands. “How did this Max get to know?”
Marion shook her head. “Some shifty newspaper reporter he knew,” she said, “who’d seen something in the archives. She belonged to Max’s secret society, some twisted lot that persecute blacks and gays, and anybody they don’t like, and root them out, like rotten apples. Their words,” she added quickly, “not mine.” She hesitated, then continued, “Apparently he asked Sandy if he’d like to join. Seemed to think they’d have mutual interests.”
“So Sandy asked for the truth,” Brian said flatly.
“Yes, but I kept it brief. I told him about Gerald coming out, and setting up house with you. And then the accident. I didn’t say much about that, not knowing what I do now. But Sandy was angry. Very, very angry, Brian. It frightened me, I don’t mind telling you. Said he was going to get to the bottom of it, do some research and straighten it all out. Then he shut down on me, and we didn’t talk about it again. I don’t know how much more he found out, or if he planned some kind of …” She hesitated, and then continued, “well, some kind of revenge … Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him when he was low, but at the time I thought I owed it to him. If only I hadn’t,” she added sadly.
Silence fell, and then Brian got up and raked out the fireplace, making it safe. “It was bound to come out, Marion,” he said finally. “We were lucky to be able to protect him for so long. I wish now he’d found out in some other way. Not from that small-time crook, Max Wedderburn.”
Marion stood up now, and blew her nose. “I don’t suppose I shall sleep,” she said, “but we can’t stay here all night. I’ll go on up. See you in the morning. I can’t pray, but p’raps you could, for both of us.”
Brian put out the lights, and sat down again in the dark. He tried to pray, but his thoughts were too disordered, and he wished he could be sure there would be a patient, listening ear. Marion’s last words resounded in his head, and when he finally got into bed he knew he would never forget them: “or if he planned some kind of revenge,” she had said.
Brian Rollinson knew now that he would have to face the truth.
FORTY-EIGHT
SHARON MILLER WALKED SLOWLY TO THE SHOP, where she was on duty for a couple of hours. She looked furtively behind her as she approached, worrying as she did all the time that there might be another encounter with Stan. She did not expect to see Max out in the open, not now, but he might come after her in the dark, slipping past her parents glued to the telly, up the stairs on tiptoe and into her bedroom. She shivered and hurried into the shop.
“Morning, Sharon,” said Mrs. Carr absently. “Can you carry on while I clear out the stockroom. Police coming. Something to do with indigestion tablets I gave old Cyril.”
Sharon’s eyebrows lifted. “You still selling those?” she said. “I offered to clear that place out a while ago. Reckon not much in there is still in date. You can get into trouble, you know, selling stuff like that.”
“Thanks, Sharon,” said Mrs. Carr drily. “Tell me something I don’t know. The police have been here, nosing into everything, quoting rules and regulations. And they’re coming back later on. They’ve already removed those tablets, and I reckon we’re in big trouble. Mr. Carr said this could finish us.” She sighed, and disappeared into the back room.
Sharon tidied the shop, made sure that there was plenty of change in the till, stacked up some empty egg-boxes, and stood by the window for a second or two, just checking on who was out there. She saw only Lois coming down the street at speed, and retreated behind the counter. Sure enough, the door opened with a rush of cold air, and Lois came in.
“Sharon,” she said, without any preliminaries, “come and see me when you’ve finished here. I need to talk to you urgently. See you later,” she added firmly, and left the shop.
So Mrs. M was on the warpath. She’d want to know more about the night of the fire, more about Sandy. Sharon had been expecting it, knowing that Mrs. M had got Sandy’s mum staying with her. She watched Lois’s retreating figure and felt only relief. Mrs. M could be very sharp, but the rest of the team said she was a good boss. She was strong, and you could trust her.
AFTER A DUSTY AND DEPRESSING TWO HOURS WITH MRS. Carr, Sharon faced a grim-faced Lois. “Sit down,” Lois said. “Now, we don’t have time to waste, so I’ll come straight to it. You know a lot more than you told me about the fire. You’d better begin at the beginning an’ I’ll listen.”
Sharon hesitated, but Lois was firm. “Go on,” she said. “Tell me what you know about that Wycombe lot, and exactly what happened. I think you do remember, don’t you. And I might as well tell you, Sharon, that if I think you’re holding back on the truth, that’s it.”
This shook Sharon. First, the possible end of the shop, and now Mrs. M threatening to give her the push from New Brooms. She sat up straight and began in a clear voice. Lois quickly realized that Sharon had now decided to tell all, and was clearly relieved to do so.
She went straight to the scene at the village hall car park, and described vividly her growing fear as they all got out of their cars and walked silently towards the vicarage. “We were whispering, though the street was empty. Not a soul in sight, Mrs. M,” she said in a sepulchral voice. “It was like I was being hypnotized: “Fire … fire … fire …” They pushed me to the front. Somebody shoved that ‘orrible toy eye in my hand, and told me to lift it up when we got to the vicarage. Said I’d have special power to get the fire going. That’s when I sobered up, and was really terrified.” Her eyes were wide with remembered horror.
“Where was Max Wedderburn?” Lois asked. Her fists were clenched, and she willed Sharon to concentrate, not to forget any detail.
“Max went off early, didn’t he. Left me with the others. When we got to the vicarage, one of the younger ones grabbed me and pulled me towards the wall of the house. I did my bit with the eye, then he threw something and dragged me back quickly. The flames were so quick! I thought I’d had it, Mrs. M. Then they all scarpered, an’ I followed.”
“Did you go home? What else did you see? Was Max anywhere about then?”
Sharon shook her head. “Nope. I ran off, then wandered about for a while, feelin’ very sick and funny. I went home after a bit, an’ then I flipped. Mum and dad got me to bed in the end. I didn’t tell them anything. My dad would have gone after them … and prob’ly got done in. I’ve never bin so frightened, Mrs. M. I was like a mad thing,” she said, looking pleadingly at Lois.
“Mmm,” said Lois. “And what else?”
“Well, then the other day they had a go at me, when I was on me way to the shop. It was worse than the fire …” She rubbed her eyes and began to shake. “There was this man who made me get in his car and took me off to the old barn up the road. It was awful, Mrs. M,” she added, near to tears. She described the sinister threats to keep her quiet, while Lois sat perfectly still. “That’s about it, Mrs. M,” Sharon said finally.
“No, I don’t think it is, not quite, Sharon,” Lois said gently. “I need to know everything you can remember about Sandy. What he said to you about living with the vicar. All that. Just sit quiet for a bit, and then it’ll come back to you.�
��
Lois waited patiently, and Sharon began again. Sandy must have found her easy to confide in, and she knew a lot about his childhood. “When he’d been through college and was looking for a job,” she went on, “his mum suggested this area, lodging with his godfather, Brian Rollinson, until he found his own place. Then this toad, Max, had come into the office. Invited him to join that stupid society. Said he had something interesting to tell him.”
“What was it he told him?” Lois said sharply.
Sharon hesitated, then blurted out, “Sandy was a bit drunk when he told me, otherwise he might not have. It was personal, an’ that. Max told him that Sandy’s father had been gay. He’d left his family to live with Brian Rollinson, and when the accident happened, there’d been a scandal involving the vicar, though he wasn’t a vicar then. Nothin’ came of it, though.”
“Sharon Miller!” said Lois, shaking her head in despair. “You stupid girl to keep all this to yourself!” Lois was lost for words. Still, Sharon had had the frighteners put on her. She calmed down quickly. “Never mind. What else did Sandy say?”
Sharon sniffed. “I don’t like to say this, Mrs. M. Not now he’s dead …” Her voice quavered, and Lois nodded encouragingly.
“Go on, Sharon, it is very important,” she said.
“Well, he said he was planning revenge. To avenge his father, I think he said.”
“Oh, my God,” Lois said. “Did he say how? What he was going to do?”
Sharon shook her head. “No. But I heard him ask Max if they could get together some time on an interesting project. Max was there, in the pub one night, kind of hovering around us. He was tryin’ to get off with me, but I wasn’t interested then—”
“Never mind about that,” interrupted Lois. “Just think, Sharon. Do you remember anything about what that project could have been?”
