by Pam Weaver
As she disappeared down the stairs, Reg gave her a Hitler salute and Dottie giggled.
‘You and Patsy take the double,’ said Reg. ‘She might be a bit nervous on her own.’
Dottie was taken completely by surprise. Patsy was delighted.
The meal was plain but well cooked and enjoyable. Dottie and Patsy joined the residents with the sing-song after dinner while Reg read a book. The other guests were a motley lot. They included a retired vicar and his wife and two elderly women, both widows, who had spent most of their latter years staying in guesthouses and small hotels around the country. The other guests were three members of a dancing troupe appearing in the local theatre and a rather brassy-looking woman with blonde hair and bright red fingernails. She kept herself to herself.
‘We’re off to Norfolk for Christmas this year,’ one of the elderly women announced at dinner. She ran her fingers up and down her string of pearls. ‘Who knows, we might even pop down to Sandringham to see the King.’
‘I doubt he will be there,’ observed the vicar. ‘In my humble opinion, His Majesty is much too ill to travel.’
After dinner, Dottie took Patsy off to bed.
‘Night-night, dear,’ smiled the vicar’s wife. ‘Such a beautifully behaved child,’ she observed to her husband as they left.
Thirty-Three
John Landers couldn’t sleep. He stood at the window of the Warnes Hotel staring out to sea. Her letter, posted last night, had arrived at his mother’s cottage by first post on Saturday and had been specific enough. He’d dropped everything, booked himself into the hotel that afternoon and waited for her to come. By the time they were taking last orders in the dining room, he’d realised she wasn’t coming. The meal was fantastic, but he couldn’t do it justice.
In her letter she had sounded frantic with worry. It was obvious she had always wanted the best for Patsy but John had a gut feeling that Reg Cox wasn’t the type to make even a halfway decent father. He’d been cold and stand-offish when he’d seen Patsy. She didn’t look anything like him either.
He was no fool. Sandy was very English in appearance. Although dark-haired, with a sort of gypsy appearance, Reg was too – yet Patsy was mixed race. It was possible there had been an atavism connected to Patsy’s birth, but the reversion to a former ancestral characteristic after several generations, or throwback as it was more commonly known, was highly unusual.
Sandy had had a reputation for being a bit wild in her youth. Brenda once told him that coming to Australia had been a last-ditch opportunity to make something of her life. Brenda would never betray a confidence but John had the impression from the word go that Sandy had been an unmarried mother. The father of her baby must have been a person of colour. Definitely not Reg Cox. Yet the thing that puzzled him the most was the fact that Sandy had named him so clearly. In view of her youth and the fact that she was determined to keep her child, Sandy had been given a second chance. As soon as the war ended, she’d been sent to Australia for a new start.
He dropped the curtain and climbed back into bed. As puzzling as it was, there was something else on his mind. He’d have to find out why Dottie hadn’t come. She wasn’t the type to let people down.
His mother was looking a lot better now. He’d found her a Girl-Friday and she was being well looked after. It was time to look around for a practice. Worthing seemed like a nice enough area and he would be near Dottie. If he could only get her to trust him. She was in his thoughts day and night and he knew now that she was someone very special. Pulling the bedclothes over his shoulders, he resolved to motor over to the village to see Dottie in the morning.
At about 10pm, Reg knocked on the door as Dottie was getting undressed. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Just a minute, I’m not decent.’ She dragged on her dressing gown. ‘It’s all right now.’
The door remained firmly closed. Dottie pulled it open but the corridor was empty. She stood by his door and knocked, but he didn’t answer.
‘Reg? Are you there?’
Never mind. He could tell her whatever it was that was troubling him tomorrow.
On the other side of the closed door, Reg’s eyes glinted with excitement. As soon as Dottie knocked he pushed the woman with him against the door and covered her mouth with his to keep her quiet. With one hand he searched for her Venus mound. She began to resist him and the old excitement began coursing through his veins. He was in for a good night. She wouldn’t go all limp and submissive on him. She’d give him what he craved. He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth and winced as she dug her long red nails into the flesh around his naked waist. As Dottie’s footsteps died away and her door closed, he broke away and she laughed softly at his erection.
‘If only she knew.’
He ran his fingers through her blonde hair. ‘I wish she did,’ he said huskily. ‘It would make it a lot more fun.’
‘Are we really going to do it then?’
Reg drew his finger across his throat and smiled sardonically.
The woman’s eyes widened. ‘A knife? I don’t like knives.’
Reg took a small bottle out of his pocket. ‘Had it stashed away for ages,’ he said. ‘Phenobarbitone.’
The woman laughed softly. ‘Ooh, you naughty, naughty boy, Reg. Mummy’s going to be very, very cross with you.’
Ann Pearce watched the well-dressed man with the big umbrella walking round the back of Dottie’s place. It was a bit early to come calling and this was the second day running he’d been there.
She was upstairs at the bathroom window which overlooked Dottie’s path. She loved this room. It looked so much brighter than it had done even three months before. She’d replaced the dark green walls and brown panelling with a lovely canary yellow, and she’d done it all herself.
The man was knocking at the front door again. It was only ten past eight. What on earth did he want at this hour? She pulled the curtain completely shut and began to undress. She shivered in the early morning air but she was happy. Life was a lot better since she’d taken that job Dottie had got for her. When at first she’d been put on a fortnight’s trial, she’d resented it, but now that she was working full time she didn’t think it was such a bad thing after all. Miss Edwards had wanted her to do the windows and even clear out the guttering. At the end of her trial period, when she’d been offered the job at The Merton, she’d said she would only stay on one condition.
‘Condition?’ Miss Edwards demanded.
‘I’ll work for you provided I don’t have to put my life at risk,’ she’d said tartly. ‘I am not willing to go up any ladders, not unless you make a solemn undertaking to be the sole support of my children should anything happen to me.’
Miss Edwards had first glared at her but then she burst out laughing.
‘Fair enough, Ann,’ she’d smiled. ‘And I must say, I admire your spunk.’
Dottie had been a real pal. She and the kids had really enjoyed that day they’d all walked down to the seafront to see the new streetlights. It had been one of quite a few good days this year. She and Dottie could’ve spent more time together gossiping over a cup of tea if it weren’t for that Reg.
Her strip-down wash finished, Ann peeped through the curtains again. Despite the rain, the man was still there. He didn’t look like a debt collector or a policeman. Lord knows she’d seen enough of those to recognise one when she saw one. He’d arrived at the cottage in a car so he must be well off but why was he so persistent? Could it be that he was one of Dottie’s customers? Ah yes, that was it. Dottie was making some curtains for his wife or his mother and he’d been sent to collect them. Funny. If that were the case, why didn’t Dottie open the door?
Come to think of it, Ann hadn’t seen Dottie since Friday. On Saturday, Ann had taken the kids up to Highdown on the bus. They’d had a wonderful time, with the kids playing in the chalk pits. It was quite cold, but it was dry. Today, Monday, it was raining hard.
Mary and Edna were coming over later to talk about th
e food for Patsy’s surprise party. They’d begun their planning with small back-of-the-hand whispers on Bonfire Night. They had to be so careful that Dottie didn’t see them. Mary was bringing the twins, but that was all right – they could play with Brian and Phyllis. The important thing was, Dottie would be at Janet Cooper’s.
Now washed and dressed, Ann pulled back the curtain and the man tilted his umbrella and looked up as if he sensed she was watching him. She darted back but she knew he’d spotted her. Blast! What if he came to her door? She straightened the curtain and tidied away her soap and flannel, all the time listening for the sound of crunching footsteps on the gravel. But thankfully a few seconds passed into several minutes and the door knocker stayed silent. Cautiously she peeped again, but he’d gone.
The rain was heavier than ever and she could see Vincent Dobbs, the postman, coming along the road on his GPO bicycle. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Ann became aware of a movement by Dottie’s back door. She clutched at her chest. The man was still there, sheltering under the porch.
Vincent was about eight doors up. If he had post for them, he’d be turning into Dottie’s gate any minute now. There was a low rumble and as Ann took another look down into Dottie’s garden her eyes grew wide.
‘Oh my stars …’ she breathed.
Thirty-Four
By the time Ann had raced downstairs and grabbed her coat and wellies from the hall, Vincent Dobbs had reached Dottie’s front garden.
‘Bloody hell,’ he gasped, as his hand touched the gate.
The smartly dressed man stood in the middle of the path staring down at the flowerbed. ‘That’s the last thing I expected to happen,’ he said shaking his head.
The wet ground around the well had dropped down by several feet and part of the old well wall was exposed. On the other side, an area the size of a dining room table had disappeared altogether, taking half the flowerbed too.
Ann stared in disbelief. She always knew the old well was falling apart, but she wasn’t expecting anything as dramatic as this.
‘When did that happen?’ Vera Carter from across the road had joined them. ‘Just now,’ Ann said.
‘They haven’t used that old well for years,’ said Vera, stating the obvious. ‘When Bessie had the housing taken down, I thought she’d had it filled in.’
‘Does she know it’s gone?’ asked Vince jerking his head towards Dottie’s front door. A rivulet of rain circled his postman’s hat and dropped down his neck.
Ann pulled her coat tightly around herself. ‘I shouldn’t think so, or she’d have called somebody out by now. Want me to knock on the door?’
‘She’s not there,’ said the smart man under the umbrella. Ann regarded him for the first time. Close up, he was very good looking, clean cut and well dressed. ‘In fact,’ he went on, ‘I’m rather worried about her … er, the whole family.’
Vince frowned. ‘Course they’re there. Reg might already be at work but Dottie and the little girl, they’ll be getting up about now.’
‘They’re not there,’ the man insisted. Ann was aware of twitching curtains as the rest of the street gathered by their windows to see what had happened. ‘I’ve been coming here on and off since the weekend and every time the place has been empty. When was the last time somebody saw them?’
Everybody’s attention was distracted by Vincent walking along the edge of the path towards the house.
‘Careful,’ said Ann rather unnecessarily.
Going gingerly all the way to the door, he rattled the letterbox loudly.
Ann hurried up behind Vincent. She joined in, tapping on the windowpane. ‘Dottie, are you there?’
Ann went round to try the back door. It was locked. She frowned. Dottie’s back door was never locked … and why were the curtains still drawn? She and Vince exchanged a worried look. ‘Someone better get Kipper,’ he said.
The rain had eased off by the time PC Kipling, affectionately known by everyone in village as Kipper, pushed his way through the waiting crowd at Myrtle Cottage.
‘There’s nobody in,’ Mary said. ‘Ann and Vince and this gentleman here have been banging on the door for ages.’
Mary Prior had arrived a few minutes after Vince. After pushing the twins all the way from home in the big pushchair, she was wet through and out of breath and dying for a cup of tea. The shock of seeing the gathering in Dottie’s garden put paid to that.
Kipper leaned his bicycle against the fence and as he looked around at the sea of faces, everybody started talking at once.
‘I heard the sound of breaking glass.’
‘That’s ’cos Vincent Dobbs broke a window.’
‘The council should come out and look at that garden. It’s a real danger.’
‘Well, I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw the state of the place.’
‘Patsy didn’t go to school today. I thought she must be ill and Dottie was looking after her.’
‘If somebody doesn’t do something about this soon, the whole road could collapse and take our homes with it.’
‘Dottie would never go off and not tell anyone.’
Kipper put his hand in the air. ‘One at a time … please!’
‘I broke the window at the back,’ Vince admitted. ‘Mrs Pearce here, she climbed in.’
‘I couldn’t bring myself to go upstairs,’ Ann began, ‘in case … well you know, so I opened the door and Vince and Bob Carter from over the road, they went up.’
Kipper swallowed hard. ‘And?’
‘The place is empty,’ said Vince. ‘They’re all gone.’
‘So?’ Kipper demanded. ‘The place is empty, what’s wrong with that?’ If his sergeant got wind of this lot breaking and entering, they’d all end up in court. ‘Dottie works at the Coopers’ today, doesn’t she?’
‘I dropped in for Tom’s paper on the way here,’ said Mary Prior, ‘and Dottie’s not there. I tell you, Janet Cooper is hopping mad.’
A murmur ran around the crowd.
‘Constable, it seems to me that judging by everyone’s reactions, Mr and Mrs Cox going off like this is very uncharacteristic,’ said the smart man.
‘And who might you be?’ said Kipper raising an eyebrow.
‘Dr John Landers.’
‘Dr Fitzgerald is her doctor,’ said Ann.
‘Mr and Mrs Cox and I have a connection through Patricia,’ John Landers continued. ‘In fact, Mrs Cox wrote and asked me to come. We had an appointment for Saturday afternoon. I’ve been in Worthing the whole weekend but she has made no contact, which is most odd.’
Everyone looked at Vince.
‘Don’t look at me,’ he protested. ‘I deliver every letter I get. Reg quite often takes them off me on the way to work, but if someone wrote Dottie a letter, I delivered it.’
‘Dottie wouldn’t go anywhere without telling someone,’ Ann insisted. ‘And she certainly wouldn’t leave her house looking like a tip.’
‘A tip?’ Kipper queried.
‘Everything’s all over the place,’ said Ann. ‘Like somebody’s been looking for something.’ She blew into her handkerchief and Vince laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.
John Landers shook his head.
Kipper frowned thoughtfully. There was no evidence of a crime except the broken window, and yet he had a gut feeling something was amiss. Dottie wasn’t the sort to do a moonlight flit. And why should she? As far as he knew, she owned the cottage herself.
‘Of course, you’ve seen the hole,’ said Vince, pointing towards the sunken garden.
Silently, the crowd parted, giving Kipper a good view of the collapsed well. A clear footprint and a skidmark went right to the edge of a deep dip.
‘When did that happen?’
‘We don’t know, but it wasn’t there yesterday,’ said Ann.
Kipper strained his eyes. Sticking up from the middle of the rubble he saw what looked like some brown material. He moved a little closer, frowning. Someone laid a restraining hand on his arm.
‘It’s her coat,’ Ann sniffed. ‘The one she keeps on the nail behind the back door. We didn’t really notice it before it got light.’
‘’Ere, Mr Kipling,’ said Mary, pointing to a dark stain on the material. ‘Doesn’t that look like blood?’
‘Are you saying she could actually be down there?’ Dr Landers pushed his way through the crowd.
‘I wouldn’t go any closer if I were you, sir,’ Kipper cautioned.
John took no notice; but as he stepped onto the edge of the dip, there was a creaking sound and some more earth fell away.
‘Careful!’ Kipper cried. He grabbed John’s arm and John stepped back gingerly. There was a loud bang and the whole area was jolted down about six inches.
Kipper’s heart missed a beat. He took a deep breath and willed himself to stay steady on his feet. Mary was right. He could see it more clearly now. There was a dark stain on the material and it certainly did look like blood.
‘We all reckon she’s down there, Mr Kipling,’ said Vince. ‘Dottie’s in that well.’
‘And what about Patricia?’ John gasped. ‘Where is she?’
‘Perhaps Reg is down there and all,’ Vera Carter said.
There was a horrified silence and everyone stared into the hole.
John was spurred into action. ‘What we need are some planks,’ he said. ‘Anyone know a builder around here?’
‘There’s Mr Tree’s,’ said Ann. ‘Down by the station.’
‘Will you take me there?’ John asked.
‘I can’t leave my children,’ Ann said.
‘I’ll take you,’ said Vera Carter.
John opened the front passenger door of his car and Vera slid inside. John did a three-point turn and they drove off at speed in the direction of the station.
As soon as Kipper had ascertained for himself that indeed no one was at home, he left a couple of men to guard the crime scene with strict orders not to let anyone pass until his return. Then he went back to his police house to telephone Worthing Central for re-enforcements. That done, he bicycled like a bat out of hell to be back at Dottie’s before the police car turned up.
