The Saturday Morning Park Run: A gloriously uplifting and page-turning book that will make you feel happy!

by Jules Wake

  ‘Have you thought laterally? You said you were a social pariah in your sector. How about trying a different one?’

  There was no answer but he hadn’t told me to shut up.

  ‘Your degree. It was in mechanical engineering. Could you transfer into that field but in the financial area? Like finance director or something.’

  He kept his eyes trained on the road which meant I’d struck a chord, otherwise he’d have just glared at me.

  ‘It’s an idea,’ I said, determined to make him think about it.

  ‘Noted,’ he said and using the controls on his steering wheel, he turned up the radio.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Yeah, I had to have the last word because, after all, this was Ashwin Laghari and I was never going to stop challenging him. If he had half a brain, he’d know I was right.

  After a near sleepless night, I slept for most of the rest of the journey and woke up about ten miles from Churchstone, leaving behind a very nice, faintly erotic dream which had involved Ash’s naked torso and a lot of kissing.

  ‘You talk in your sleep,’ said Ash.

  ‘Do I?’ I feigned disinterest although I could feel the furious blush on my face.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Ash flashed me a sardonic grin, ‘you didn’t say anything intelligible. Just a lot of mumbling.’

  Phew.

  ‘Or it might have been moaning.’

  The furious blush turned molten. ‘Glad to have entertained you,’ I snapped, resting one cheek on the welcome cool of the passenger window.

  ‘You— Oh shit.’ He stared into the rearview mirror.

  Instinctively I turned and looked over my shoulder out of the rear window. A blue flashing light was following us.

  He pulled over into a rather handily placed layby which had probably been the intention of the police car behind us.

  ‘What speed were you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Below the limit. I’m careful, especially in this. Well, I am now. I did a speed awareness course.’

  Two police officers, one very tall young man and one short, plump older woman got out of the car. Both had ambivalent expressions on their faces, neither friendly nor hostile. The woman approached Ash’s door, the young man behind her.

  Ash wound down his window.

  ‘Is this your vehicle sir?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I see your driving licence?’

  Ash wriggled his wallet out of his back pocket and wordlessly handed the licence to the officer.

  ‘Do you have your insurance documents?’

  ‘No, I don’t keep them in the car.’

  ‘MOT certificate?’

  ‘No.’

  I’d have been bending over backwards to appear a helpful, eager-beaver, law-abiding citizen. What was with the surly one-word answers? My heart was racing; I couldn’t help it. This was exactly the kind of thing I always tried to avoid.

  This was the sort of behaviour that got you hauled out of the car and clapped in handcuffs. Not that I knew, never ever having been stopped by the police before. I wondered if Ash had been previously.

  ‘Would you mind telling me where you’re going and where you’ve been?’

  Ash shrugged. ‘No, we’re on our way to Churchstone from Hertfordshire.’

  ‘Churchstone?’ The police officer turned to her male colleague.

  ‘I… we live there.’

  ‘Are you acquainted with a Mrs Hilda Fitzroy-Townsend?’

  Ash and I glanced at each other and I caught my breath in sudden panic. The girls.

  ‘Is she all right?’ I blurted out. ‘Has something happened to her?’ I began to scrabble in my bag for my phone. I’d texted her to tell her we were on our way when we left at twelve.

  ‘Please leave your hands where we can see them.’ The woman’s voice rapped out with loud authority and I dropped my bag and held up my hands.

  ‘I was just checking to see if I’d had a message from her.’

  ‘You know Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nodded.

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  I lifted my head, worried now, and there was a hardness in the other woman’s expression.

  ‘Well, I know where she should be,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to ring her?’

  The two police officers exchanged identical bland expressions with each other.

  ‘We would like to see Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend for ourselves. There are concerns for her safety.’

  ‘Do you think she’s had an accident?’ I asked.

  Now the police were decidedly iron-faced.

  ‘When was the last time you saw Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend?’

  ‘Friday morning.’ Ash nodded in confirmation.

  ‘And you’ve not seen her since then?’

  ‘Well, no. We’ve been away. She’s looking after my nieces. But she was there this morning because she texted me about eight to say everything was all fine.’

  The policeman frowned and checked his notebook. ‘So you have had contact with Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend this morning?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And where was she this morning?’

  ‘At my house.’

  ‘Which is where?’

  I reeled off the address. ‘We’re just on our way back there.’

  ‘We would like to see Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend. As I said, there are concerns for her safety.’

  ‘So there hasn’t been an accident?’ This was all very confusing.

  ‘Not that we’re aware of. We’d just like to ascertain her whereabouts.’

  I frowned. ‘Well, in that case, I’m sure she’s absolutely fine. I can call her if you’d like.’

  ‘We do need to speak to her. Check that’—she gave me a stern look—‘she’s there of her own volition.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I frowned trying to compute the implications. ‘You think I’ve kidnapped her?’

  ‘We’re just trying to confirm her whereabouts. Her family are very worried about her.’

  ‘But didn’t they try to ring her?’

  ‘She’s not been responding to texts, phone calls, or voicemails. Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend was reported missing yesterday morning and was last seen getting into this vehicle.’

  I was confused and worried. The only thing for it was to sign up for a police escort home so we could get to the bottom of things.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The house was quiet when I opened the front door but there was a lovely smell of baking which boded well.

  ‘Hello, Hilda. We’re back,’ I called, feeling rather self-conscious in front of the two police officers who were virtually breathing down my neck.

  I walked down the black and white tiled hallway towards the back of the house and the kitchen-diner.

  ‘Auntie Claire, Auntie Claire!’ Ava darted forward and flung her arms around my hips as if I’d returned from a lengthy transatlantic sea-voyage rather than an overnight trip down the M1. Behind her, Poppy, in an outsized apron, and Hilda with one of my new table cloths tucked in her sweatshirt like a bib, were in the middle of spooning cake mixture into little flowered bun cases.

  ‘We’re making butterfly cakes and we made flapjacks and cookies.’

  Hilda glanced over her shoulder at us, ‘You’ve made excellent time… Ah, good afternoon.’ She gave the police officers a regal nod. ‘We have company.’

  ‘Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend?’ asked the policeman.

  ‘Yes. How do you do?’ said Hilda turning around and brushing her hands on the tablecloth. ‘Can I offer you and the WPC a cup of tea? I’m sure Claire and Ash will want one after their long drive. How was the trip?’

  ‘That would be…’ He looked back at his colleague a little uncertainly. ‘Perhaps we could speak privately with you in another room?’

  ‘Why would you want to do that? I have nothing to hide from my friends.’

  ‘It would be better,’ pressed the WPC, her mouth tightening.

  ‘Better for whom? Claire and Ash are friends. Now wh
at seems to be the problem?’

  ‘Perhaps we can take a seat?’

  ‘Poppy, would you carry on dear, while I handle this? Tiresome, I know,’ her wrinkled mouth pursed in walnut crinkles of annoyance and the look she gave the police officers was frigid, her blue eyes positively glacial. ‘Ava, if you follow Poppy’s instructions to the letter, you may help her. Claire, would you mind if we went into the front room?’

  I shook my head and watched as Hilda marched out of the kitchen like Boudicca leading her troops.

  A beat later she called. ‘You too, Claire and Ash.’

  We shared a bemused frown and followed into the sitting room at the front of the house.

  ‘Now, what is all this nonsense about?’ said Hilda, sitting in one of the armchairs with her legs crossed, folded her arms

  ‘They seem to think we’ve kidnapped you,’ I said calmly in an isn’t-that-the-most-ridiculous-thing-you’ve-ever-heard voice.

  The WPC sighed and cut across me.

  ‘Mrs Fitzroy-Townsend, your family is concerned about your welfare and wellbeing because they weren’t aware of your whereabouts and were unable to contact you. They filed a missing persons report.’

  ‘How bothersome of him. You mean my son, of course,’ said Hilda with a weary sigh. ‘As you can see,’ she indicated with a body scan hand gesture, ‘I’m perfectly safe and well and staying here with my young friends.’

  ‘Perhaps, madam,’ said the WPC, ‘you might like to get in touch with your family and reassure them.’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes. I suppose it was Farquhar, fussing as usual.’

  I tried to hide a snigger behind my hand. No one, surely, called their son Farquhar.

  Hilda grinned and lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. ‘It was before Shrek came out. Although, the prince is actually called Farquaad.’

  Now I really did laugh and I could see Ash pinching his lips together.

  ‘I think pregnancy addled my brains but his father insisted. And it’s a family name; I believe it was one of the fourth duke’s names, although I suppose in the sixteenth century it was quite acceptable. I bet it was him, wasn’t it? Always was a fusspot.’

  ‘I believe it was a Mr Farquhar Fitzroy who raised the alarm, after the manager at Sunnyside Memorial Home said that you’d been missing overnight.’

  ‘Stupid, stupid boy. And that damn fool manager. I’m a grown woman and if I want to go away for the night I do not have to inform that pipsqueak.’

  ‘Do you have a mobile phone?’

  Hilda gave him a withering frown and I didn’t blame her; there was definitely a patronising tone to his words.

  ‘Young man, I have a mobile phone and I am also of sound mind. I was rounding up Russian spies and enemies of the state during the Cold War before your parents were even born. If I decide to go away for a night or two, it is of no concern to anyone but myself.’ There was a silence before she added with a decided note of dismissal, ‘It’s a great shame you’ve been brought out on a wild goose chase. Please inform my son that I am quite well.’ She stood up.

  ‘Perhaps you would like to ring him yourself, to set his mind at rest.’

  ‘Perhaps I wouldn’t,’ said Hilda with a regal tilt to her head. ‘Now, if there’s nothing more, I have cakes to bake with my young friends.’ With that, she swept out of the room and headed off towards the kitchen.

  ‘Right, well,’ said the police officer, a little put-out.

  The WPC’s eyes twinkled and she gave me a wry smile. ‘Quite a character.’

  ‘She is. I’m sorry you’ve been put to the trouble of having to come here. We had no idea.’ Of course, Hilda’s overnight carrier bag made perfect sense now. I’d wondered why she’d brought so little. She’d deliberately not told anyone at the home she was going away. Hoisted by her own petard, I thought. Karma was a bitch.

  ‘Well, we’ll be off. If you could encourage her to phone her son, it would be a good idea.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said, not holding out any confidence in my chance of success.

  ‘In the meantime, we’ll let him know she’s safe and sound.’

  Of course, Hilda, presiding over butterfly buns and tea and squash with the girls, wasn’t the least bit penitent.

  ‘Honestly, what a fuss. I am perfectly entitled to go off on holiday without having to inform anyone. I’ve a good mind to give the manager of the home a good talking to.’

  ‘They’re just concerned for your welfare,’ I said gently.

  ‘Poppycock,’ she grinned. ‘I bet Farquhar was worried I’d gone off and got married again. He was mightily pissed off when I married my fourth husband, George. We got married in Vegas in the Elvis chapel. It was a hoot. I posted pictures on Facebook and Farquhar was livid. He was worried George was marrying me for my money, which of course he was, but as he didn’t have long to live, it wasn’t as if he was going to get through an awful lot of it. Sadly, he only lasted another couple of months but we had a ball. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend driving a Harley down Route 101 all the way to Baja. Fabulous.’ She then proceeded to tell Poppy and Ava about riding a motorbike and being stopped by a state trooper who wanted to arrest her, which Poppy and Ava listened to round-eyed.

  Ash caught my eye, his expression sceptical – Hilda always seemed to have a wealth of interesting stories – and we shared a quick conspiratorial smile.

  ‘So what news?’ asked Hilda, after tea and cake had been consumed.

  ‘It’s a goer,’ I said, sitting up straighter and trying to contain my sudden bounce. ‘Although someone might have warned us it’s all up hill – talk about hard work. We’ve almost got permission from the council but there’s just the small matter of raising three grand to buy all the equipment.’

  ‘Equipment? echoed Hilda and I explained just what was required and what we’d seen that morning.

  ‘Gosh, it’s quite a bit more of an undertaking than I thought it would be. It’s a good job you’re on the case, Claire. What’s the plan for this week?’

  I outlined the agenda for the next couple of days, feeling a bit more like me again, using the list I’d made in the car on the way back, which included researching all possible grant providers and local sponsors who might help us raise the cash.

  ‘Tomorrow morning, the girls and I are going to design some leaflets inviting potential volunteers to The Friendly Bean.’ I had a small scanner and laser printer that would make light work of the job and it would give the girls something to do before we went to the airport. ‘We need to recruit a team of at least twenty people. This week I’ll get them printed up and then we’ll start distributing to the houses around the park, community notice boards, Facebook, and so on; the running club are going to put some up on their side of town. We also need to come up with some fundraising ideas as three grand is no small feat. Apparently, there are grants and things we can apply for.’

  ‘Which all take time,’ Ash added with a downward twist to his lips.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Hilda, completely ignoring his pessimistic addendum. ‘And when does Alice get back?’ Both Poppy and Ava’s heads popped up.

  My smile was overbright. ‘Tomorrow, but I’m still waiting to hear from her what time the plane lands.’ My careful glance at my watch didn’t escape Hilda’s keen-eyed gaze. She gave me a discreet nod, acknowledging my unspoken anxiety.

  Alice was a lot more laid back than me. I had to stop worrying. She’d phone at the last minute, probably when she was about to board the plane. In which case, she should be texting or calling very soon.

  ‘I don’t want to go home, Auntie Claire. I want to stay here. In my nice new bedroom. There’s much more room for my babies.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ snapped Poppy. ‘Auntie Claire has to go back to her big job one day.’

  ‘I’m going to miss the two of you,’ said Hilda. ‘Who’s going to help me bake cakes?’ There was a slight quiver to her lipstick-stained lips.

  Ash looked mour
nful. ‘I’m going to miss the cakes.’

  And, oh heck, I was going to miss the girls. When had that happened? It had snuck up on me that somehow having them around had become normal. I’d got used to the noise and busyness of the house – the messy kitchen, the cluttered bathroom and the abandoned book bags in the hallway. Despite all that, this place had turned into a home. Real people lived here and it showed. My house felt like a proper home and that made me feel good inside. I was going to miss everyone, even Ash.

  ‘Perhaps we can have a regular bake-off date,’ I suggested. ‘I’m sure Mummy won’t mind. You could invite her too.’ As I said it, I wondered what Hilda and Alice would make of each other. Though both were mavericks in their own way, something told me that they wouldn’t be friends.

  ‘In the meantime, when are you going to decorate this room? You’ve been perusing all those glossy magazines but have you made up your mind what you’re going to do yet?’ asked Hilda.

  I grinned at her. ‘Actually, I think I have.’ My dreams of dark grey walls and black slate floors had been replaced with something entirely different.

  ‘Excellent. One of the women in the home has a son who does kitchens. She’s always showing me pictures. He’s actually quite good. Would you like me to get him to pop round? Give you a quote? See what he could do for you?’

  ‘Er… well.’ Four expectant faces peered at me and Poppy pointed at the sad wallpaper. ‘Yes, but I want it done as soon as possible. This week if he can.’ I knew that was a tall order with tradespeople but now I’d made up my mind, I wanted to put the plans in place.

  I was due to see Dr Boulter at the end of the week but there was no way he was going to sign me off for any longer. I felt better than I had in a long time.

  Hilda was already on her phone texting with teenage-like speed.

  Chapter Twenty

  When I opened the door on Monday evening, Bill suddenly at my heels like a faithful knight determined to protect my honour, I found a stranger on the doorstep pacing back and forth.