Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987) (13 page)

In the garden, building a giant snowman with the children and a subdued and wan-looking Anna, Sebastian evolved a plan. He felt very strongly that the whole family relied on him to find their dog, and the children seemed to think because he was a vet, he could, if necessary, magic him back to life. He was going to need help.

Young Bill Stockbridge, one of Lois Meade’s cleaners, had approached him several weeks ago. He’d explained who he was, and said although he enjoyed the New Brooms’ work, he was missing his dad’s farm. “Mostly the animals,” he’d said. He had wondered if he could help Sebastian at the weekends. “Money’s not important,” he had said confidently, though Rebecca had thought otherwise.

“If you’re disappearing to work for hours over the weekend,” she’d said, “I shall expect big treats in compensation.”

“Treats don’t need to cost money,” he’d replied, with a lascivious look. He had gone out once or twice with Sebastian, and been very helpful.

Now his services would be required for something different: a big trawl through the woods, an exhaustive search for Rick, as soon as the snow disappeared. Sebastian noticed the temperature rising, and the snow on the house roof was melting at the edges already. Soon it would slide down, turn into slush, and be gone in hours. Sebastian returned to the house and rang Bill’s number.

§

Rebecca had said she must go home for Christmas and had invited Bill, but he had found good excuses for declining. His own family did not expect him, regarding him and Rebecca as being more or less married, and saying he should stay with her at such a time. But Bill felt uncomfortable with Rebecca’s family. He knew they did not really approve, and she became a different person in their midst. So in the end it was agreed that he would stay and mind the cottage, be on Lois’s emergency list, and have a good time in the pub on Christmas Eve.

When the telephone rang, Bill was sure it would be Rebecca. She had rung twice yesterday, and sounded miserable. Well, that was no bad thing. But when he heard Sebastian’s voice, he was pleased. He had begun to feel lonely, though he wouldn’t admit it, and when the idea of a search through the woods was put to him, he agreed gladly. “This afternoon then?” he said.

He and Sebastian set off from the farmhouse soon after lunch, to make the most of the light. The snow had almost disappeared in the bright sun and rising temperature, and when they plunged into the deeper part of the wood the canopy of trees had protected the ground beneath. They did not talk, concentrating on the job. When they came to the place Anna had pointed out, a thin layer of snow had drifted into the clearing.

“Nothing here, Bill. You can see that,” Sebastian said, stopping and looking all around.

“Well, there’s no dog, that’s for sure.” Bill wandered off through the trees and halted suddenly. He bent down, looking at the melting snow. “There is something here, though,” he called. Sebastian joined him, and they looked at what was clearly a footprint in the snow.

“That’s odd,” said Sebastian. “The snow came during the night, long after any of us had been in the woods. Someone else has been here.” He frowned. It didn’t seem likely that walkers would be out in the woods today, and anyway, these prints – there was a small trail – led up to where Bill stood, and then turned around and went back the same way.

“She spoke of a man, did you say?” Bill measured the print with the span of his big hand. Sebastian nodded. Bill straightened up and said, “Well, this’d be a very small man, more like a child or a woman.”

“Very odd,” said Sebastian. He looked away through the trees, and suddenly stiffened. “Hey! Stop! You there, stop!” Bill looked in the same direction and saw a figure, a small figure, disappearing fast. They both took off at speed, crashing through the underbrush and yelling as they went. They were faster, especially Bill, who was used to charging through human obstacles on the rugby field. Bushes were nothing to him.

“Stop! Stop!” he yelled, as he closed in on the fleeing figure. Sebastian followed close behind and saw that their quarry had finally come to a halt and was leaning against a tree. Bill was there first, and saw arms and hands stretched out against him, as if to stop any violent approach he might make.

“It’s all right, Miss Abraham,” he said, seeing a terrified Enid straggling for breath, pushing her muddy hands into her pockets. “Why on earth didn’t you stop? I’m really sorry if we frightened you.”

Sebastian had caught them up and stared at her. “Enid!” he said. “What on earth are you doing here? And why did you run…surely you could see it was us?”

Enid Abraham shook her head. Making an obvious effort to keep back tears, she said in a small voice, “I wasn’t sure…It’s so dark in the woods…”

Sebastian looked at her white face and said, “Let us walk you back home. Do you know the way?” Enid nodded dumbly, and he took her arm. “I was just out for a breath of fresh air,” she muttered after a while.

Bill said, “But why were you frightened?”

She did not reply, and they walked on in silence. Then she said, “I’ve always been frightened of the woods. The locals say there’s a big old cat in there, a wild one, that attacks people…and somebody had a dog badly scratched once.”

Sebastian told her about Rick’s disappearance at once, of course, and she sympathized, saying she did hope he would return of his own accord. Dogs often did that. But Bill thought privately that it was all a bit much of a coincidence. Seb’s dog going missing, and then Enid comes along with her cock-and-bull story of a big bloody cat! He’d worked alongside Enid, of course, and had no fault to find with her. There was nothing to dislike, and yet he disliked her. She never gave anything away, never relaxed or told him anything about herself, except to make it clear that visitors to the mill were not encouraged.

They reached the Abrahams’ track, and Enid stopped. “Thank you both very much,” she said. “I would invite you to come and have a cup of tea, but you know how it is. Mother would never…” Her voice trailed away in its usual fashion, and the men stood and watched as she picked her way carefully through the ruts and potholes.

“That’s that, then,” said Sebastian. “Better get on with our search.”

“And watch out for the Big Bad Cat,” said Bill, with a caustic look at Seb. “Never heard such rubbish,” he continued, after she’d gone.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sebastian, reluctant to mock Enid. “There are such things as feral cats, and they can be vicious. It is possible.”

Bill said nothing, but thought that he would like to know more about Miss Enid Abraham’s habit of taking walks in dark woods that frightened her out of her wits. He would have a word with Lois.

§

“Where’ve you been?” said Walter Abraham, as Enid came into the kitchen and took off her coat. “It’ll soon be dark out there. I suppose I’d better do the chickens for you…”

“Thanks, Father,” Enid said. “I just went for a walk. The snow’s all gone, thank goodness. All very well for children and people who don’t have to tend animals, but I’m glad to see the back of it.”

She watched her father put on his boots and when he had gone out she felt in her coat pocket, bringing out a note on a dirty piece of paper. Yesterday, even though it was Christmas Day, she had hoped for a last minute card to swell their meagre collection and went to check their improvised letter box, a broken drainpipe at the end of the track. No card, but she had found the note. It had been a shock to see it was unmistakably Edward’s handwriting, so like her own. It instructed her to go and look for a dead dog he’d come across in the woods. He’d moved it to a suitable place, and she was to take something to dig with, and bury it. That was all. No clue to his whereabouts, no explanation of his disappearance, no message of affection or concern.

She had collected a trowel and gone reluctantly to do as she was bidden. After wandering about for a while, she’d found the dog and was horrified to see it was the Charringtons’. She’d dug as well as she could with the trowel. It took a long time, and the dog was heavy. She’d wept as she spread loamy soil over him and a thick layer of leaves, and then, not really satisfied that all trace had gone, she’d heard a rustle in the undergrowth and panicked, running back home and planning to complete the job next day.

At the second attempt, she had concealed the grave to her satisfaction, and was returning to the mill when she’d caught sight of Bill and Sebastian. Panicking again, she had fled, but when she was finally out of breath, they’d caught her. Long experience of Edward’s lying explanations warned her not mention the dog. ‘Found a dead dog’ could mean much more. Still, they had seemed satisfied with her explanation, though it sounded thin, even to her. She threw the note on the fire. It had been best to do as she was told, even though she had no idea why. Edward had always been like this, giving her orders, never explaining, skipping off when there was trouble and leaving her to face the music. Then he would laugh away her anger and she would forgive him. Always that bond between them. And now, not once did it occur to her that she should tell the police.

J
amie had woken early on Christmas morning and spent an hour reminding himself that there was no chance Mum and Dad had got him a piano. Too expensive, taking up too much space, and anyway he wouldn’t stick to it. He’d heard this so often that he had believed it himself – almost. But he’d still had a sneaking hope that Mum would know how keen he was, would work on Dad and come up with the impossible. She was good at that. He had tried to stop thinking about it at all, and had fallen asleep again, only to be woken again by shouts from downstairs.

“Hey! Jamie!” Josie had shouted, and then the whole family had gathered while Jamie tore off the paper and discovered his piano. For a couple of seconds he couldn’t believe it, and just stood and stared.

“Go on then,” Derek had said. “Give us a tune.”

Gran had wiped away a tear, and Lois smiled. “Give him time, Dad,” she’d said. “Wait till Enid’s given him some lessons, and then we’ll be hiring Tresham Town Hall for a concert!”

Now it was Monday again, with Christmas and New Year behind them, and New Brooms staff were sitting in Lois’s office, chatting about the holiday and waiting for the meeting to start. Enid Abraham had been last to arrive, and Bill noticed that she avoided looking at him. She was very pale, with dark shadows under her eyes. But everything else about her was as usual, neat and inconspicuous.

Lois came in with coffee, and the meeting started. Bill began to wonder if there was trouble afoot. Lois seemed to be giving them only half her attention. Sheila had had to say something twice, and Bridie looked puzzled when Lois’s answer to her question made no sense. Finally, when Hazel Reading said, “You feeling OK, Mrs M?” Bill knew he was right. He heard Derek’s van drive off and saw Lois watch it go, and her expression told him something was wrong between the two of them. But what? They had always seemed to him an example of how successful a marriage could be, in spite of three stroppy kids and a live-in Gran. Ah well, none of his business. He was hoping to have a quiet word with Lois about Enid, but hadn’t quite decided how to put it. He was sure the old thing was up to something, possibly to do with the Charringtons, her neighbours. And that dreary mill, with its overhanging trees and loony mother! He couldn’t think why Lois had hired the woman, when there must have been plenty of normal, cheery candidates for the job.

“All set, then,” Lois was saying. “Let’s get off to a good start for the New Year. Any problems, anyone?” She didn’t give them much chance to answer, and made it clear that the meeting had ended. All except Bill left the house and went their ways, but he hung back, hoping that inspiration would come if he could delay Lois for a few minutes.

“Something to say, Bill?” she asked, hovering by the door.

He nodded. “It’s private, really,” he said. He knew that Enid and Gran had struck up a friendship, and this was for Lois’s ears only.

“Sit down, then,” said Lois, shutting the door. “I’m in a bit of a dash,” she added, “so make it quick, if you can.”

“It’s about Enid,” he said.

“Enid?”

“Yep.”

“What about her?”

Bill was good at keeping to the point. He noticed that Lois suddenly snapped to attention when he mentioned Anna’s dog story. “In the woods, did you say? Near the mill stream? And the body of the dog disappeared?”

“Yep. Seb thinks Anna made it up. But there were these footprints, and then we found Enid and she was in a great old fluster.”

“You’re not suggesting Enid killed the dog!” Lois stared at him. Thoughts were whirling round in her head. A body seen, and then disappeared. She remembered with a shiver that night of the storm, the tumbling shape in the stream, the white face against the dam. A body seen, and then disappeared.

“Dunno,” said Bill. “I just know she was very upset. Shifty, really. Very anxious to get rid of Seb and me.”

“Well, she’s always nervous about people going down to the mill,” said Lois. “Batty old mum an’ that. I pity her, in a lot of ways. Funny old life, with not much fun. But I’d trust her…wouldn’t you?” Lois looked at Bill’s wide face, with its open, straightforward expression, and felt a moment’s doubt. Perhaps there was more to Enid than she knew. That brother, Edward, for a start. Why had she denied so quickly that they were twins? She still hadn’t asked Bridie, and must remember to do so. She knew what Derek would say. Keep to a business relationship and leave personal things out of it. But this was impossible in New Brooms. They were all close, good friends. That was the way it worked.

“You’ve seen a bit of Enid at jobs,” she said. “There’s never been any difficulty, has there?” None of the others had ever complained. The reverse, really. Enid got on with everybody. But, now she thought of it, Enid’s way of getting on was to keep quiet, make no impression. None of her colleagues had ever said anything against her, but no words of praise, either. Clients, yes, had often said how pleased they were with Enid. Her fellow cleaners accepted her well enough, but kept their distance. Perhaps were
made
to keep their distance.