Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987) (21 page)

“Oh, God!” Lois said, startled into retreating a few steps. “Sorry…Mr Abraham, is it?…I knocked, but…”

“What d’you want?” Walter Abraham spoke flatly, as if hypnotized.

“Where’s Enid?” Lois’s anger was returning. “I’d like to speak to her…urgently.”

The old man said nothing for a few seconds, then to Lois’s horror, tears began to fall unchecked and ran down his cheeks, some into his half-open mouth. He shook his head. “She’s gone,” he said.

“Gone shopping? When will she be back?” Lois was daunted now, uncertain what to do about this old man weeping in front of her.

Again he shook his head. “Not shopping. Gone. Gone away. And I don’t know when – or if – she’s coming back.”

Now what? Lois frowned, and made a decision. She pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down. “You look terrible, Mr Abraham,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, then I can make us a cup of tea and see what help you need.” She sighed. She was a cleaner, not a ruddy social worker.

He made an attempt to get up from his chair, but sank back, his eyes closed. After another moment of silence, he opened them and said, “We had a big row. Worse than usual. About your lad coming down here. It upset Mother, and I was angry.”

“But no harm was done, was it?” Lois was gentle. She knew if she stormed on about Enid’s irresponsibility, he would dry up, or defend his daughter with excuses.

He shook his head. “You don’t know how we live down here, Mrs Meade,” he said. “Always on a knife-edge, waiting for Mother to explode. Start throwing things. Screaming. We walk on tiptoe down here.”

“And Enid broke the rules, letting Jamie stay?”

“Right,” he nodded. “I think she cracked. I suppose I knew she would, one day. Couldn’t stand it any longer. She’s not taken any of her things…”

“She probably means to come back later.”

“No, we had this terrible row. She said she’d send a postcard when she got where she was going, and I wasn’t to try and get in touch. No one must try, she said.”

The old man had brightened. The tears had stopped, and he sat up straighter. He told Lois he could manage on his own, and, yes, look after Mother. She wasn’t to worry. He was sorry about the job, and about the piano lessons. Jamie had seemed a nice lad.

Lois stood up. “I’m sorry too, Mr Abraham,” she said. “Enid was a good worker. Let us know if you need any help.” As she left the kitchen, she heard sharp rapping sounds from inside the house. What a bloody awful situation.

As she got into her car and started the engine, she stared at the house. Her anger had subsided, and she supposed she should feel sorry for the old bugger. But she didn’t, and for a good reason.

She was convinced he was lying. Lying through his rotten teeth.

L
ois sat in her office next day, trying to make sense of revising the schedules. She picked up the phone. She’d talked to Sheila yesterday about extra work, but needed to extend it, at least temporarily. “Sorry, Sheila, to bother you again,” she said, “but I’d really appreciate it if you could take on a few more hours, just until I can get a replacement for Enid. The others are giving more time, as and when it’s needed. Bill’s been great. Says he doesn’t mind how long he works. Better than waiting for Rebecca to come home from endless school meetings, he says.” She regretted the last remark at once.

Sheila rose to it swiftly: “Should keep him out of mischief, too,” she said acidly. She had absolutely no evidence that Bill had made any approaches to Hazel, and was disappointed. The job needed a bit of spice now and then. Still, her daughter in Waltonby had phoned her with a bit of gossip earlier, and she was anxious to relay it to Lois.

“Um, there was something you might like to know about,” she said.

“Yes?” Lois had ignored the jibe about Bill, making a mental note to be more careful in future.

“My daughter…said she’s heard somebody saw Enid. In a car. Not her car, but in the passenger seat. An old banger, it was, she said. She was laughing, she said. Laughing at the bloke sitting next to her, she said.”

“When?” said Lois sharply. News of Enid’s disappearance had got around fast, aided, no doubt, by arch-gossip Sheila. Perhaps I should have said to keep it quiet for the moment, Lois thought. Too late now, anyway, and gossip had its uses.

She had already brought Cowgill up to date, but this was an extra, maybe an important extra.

“Yesterday some time.” It was all very vague, most of it hearsay.

“I expect we’ll hear all sorts of stories,” said Lois without comment, and signed off.

Gran came in with coffee and asked if anything had been heard of Enid. Lois shook her head. “Did she say anything to you?” she asked. She had been pleased that Gran had struck up a friendship with Enid. They’d been for one or two walks together, strolling round the village, while Enid reported local legend and history and Gran listened with interest.

“Nothing at all. Nothing about going away, or even wishing she could, though I reckon she had every reason to.” Some of Enid’s apparently casually dropped remarks about life at the mill had shocked Gran. If she’d been Enid, she had told her firmly, she would have made sure there were changes, or else left them to it. But afterwards, when she’d thought about it, she could see the poor woman was in a trap. It was like a spider’s web down there, with the old mother as the spider. Gran had not discussed this with Lois, as she was anxious not to prejudice Enid’s job. She knew some of the other cleaners disliked her, and wouldn’t make it worse by setting Lois against her.

“What d’you mean?” Lois was on to her at once.

“Oh, you know, that mother bein’ a recluse. And the weak old father.”

“And the criminal brother,” said Lois sternly. “Mum,” she continued, “if you know anything about Enid goin’ off, or anything else you can think of, you got to tell me. It might be…well…a matter of life and death.”

“Lois, I really don’t know anything. Enid was friendly, but a very private person. You know that. When we went on walks together, she’d chat about this and that, but never much except what we know already about the Abrahams. She talked a lot about her childhood, an’ happy times she had with her brother. I reckon she’s very upset about the way he turned out. Still fond of him, though, like you would be if it was family…Got to get on, now,” she added, and left the room.

Lois sat for a while, staring out of the window but seeing nothing. In her mind’s eye she had a picture of the mill kitchen. Neat, gloomy but clean. And next to the fire, two pairs of boots put there to dry.
Two
pairs of men’s boots?

§

In the middle of what seemed to Enid Abraham like nowhere at all, she sat on a broken old chair and shivered. It was cold and she was alone. She couldn’t get up to move about and warm up, because her hands were tied together and anchored behind the chair. She couldn’t see, because a grimy handkerchief had been tied round her eyes. Her sense of smell was not restricted, however, and she sniffed. Mushrooms? Not quite, but the damp, sharp smell was like mushrooms. She remembered how she and Edward used to go collecting them, early on summer mornings. He had taught her which ones were edible…ah, that was it. The smell was toadstools. Damp, acrid and poisonous.

No light penetrated through the blindfold, but she knew it was daytime. She had heard a cock crowing from far away, waking her up hours ago. She had no idea how long she had slept, but was in an agony of cramp when she awoke. She had managed to wriggle enough to get her circulation going, and had then decided to sit it out and not struggle. She would listen hard, and wait. He would be back. She could rely on that.

W
hen someone had seen Enid Abraham in the passenger seat of an old banger, Enid had not been laughing. She had been gasping between terrified tears. She had stopped crying after a while, and tried pleading. It had made no difference. She had promised everything demanded, reminding Edward that she had always done her best to support him, even when it meant putting herself on the wrong side of the law. In her own defence, she had said her crime – to allow Jamie to come into the house and have a piano lesson – had been a very small one. And no harm had been done. And why had he attacked Father in that way? He was an old man, and broken by all the trouble. No longer the real head of the family, and if it was anyone’s fault it had been Enid’s. None of it had made any difference.

Manhandled and restrained, she had ended up in what she now knew for certain to be a cave, now that she felt the warmth of a little sunlight filtering in through the undergrowth. The sounds and smells, birdsong and dampness, convinced her she was in the cave in Alibone Woods, where they had picnicked in happier days. It was more a deep hollow in the hillside than a cave, made by quarry workers years ago, and now surrounded by thicket and trees. The perfect hiding place. She was still bound and blindfolded, and was beginning to feel faint. He hadn’t gagged her, fortunately. She supposed he was confident that she wouldn’t shout for help, sure of his hold over her. He had assured her he would be back, and had returned to feed her cold soup out of a tin before disappearing once more, saying that when he returned he would have decided what to do next. She begged him to take off the blindfold, saying she would do whatever he wanted.

Hadn’t she always, telling lies and covering up? She’d even buried a dead dog for him, and not asked questions when he kept appearing and disappearing.

The blindfold was soaked with tears, and Enid’s cheeks were hot and sore. But all her physical discomfort was nothing to the pain in her heart. Just when she’d thought things at the mill were improving, it had all got much worse. She had so loved working for Mrs M, feeling a real person again, with a place in the world and even the beginnings of a friendship with Gran. Although Lois’s mother was much older than she was, she felt at ease with her, and that was rare. Well, now that was well and truly scuppered.

And Father had been so much better lately, even though Mother had become a total recluse – maybe
because
she had! Now he was back to the fearful, grim old man he’d been for years. Why hadn’t he tried to help her when she’d been taken off, struggling and crying? It was no good asking, and anyway, in her heart of hearts she knew why. So many secrets, so much emotional blackmail. How would it all end? Not well, she was sure of that now, and began to cry again.

“For God’s sake shut that row!” The voice was harsh.

“Edward?” said Enid, stiffening in alarm, recognizing at once that Edward’s mood was black.

“Who else are you expecting? Your precious Lois Meade, come to rescue you from your evil brother? Maybe her pal the cop? No, dear Enid, no chance of that. I’m very good at covering tracks now. Nobody will find you. Anyway, you’re not staying here much longer. I’ve decided what we’ll do next.”

“What?” Enid’s voice was cracked and nearly inaudible.

“You’ll know soon enough. When I’m ready. Here, open your mouth.” He fed her bread and cheese, piece by piece, held a bottle of water to her lips for her to drink, and then said more gently, “I’m off again now. Things to do. Here, put this rug round you. Gets cold at nights.” She felt his hand touch the top of her head, lightly, like he used to. A gesture of affection. Another change of mood. In spite of the prospect of more fear and discomfort, Enid felt a glimmer of hope.

Then, from the rustling and alarm calls from woodland birds, she knew he had gone.

§

Alibone Woods had other visitors. Lois, accompanied by Bill, was walking systematically through the trees. They were not speaking, but listening and looking. It had been a sudden impulse to search the woods. Conversations with Enid had been running through Lois’s head, and mention of a secret place known only to Edward, and regular picnics in Alibone Woods had rung bells. Wouldn’t such a hiding place be as good a place as any to start looking for Enid? She knew the police had searched, but had good reason to question their thoroughness.

“But Mrs M,” Bill had said, when she’d phoned him at lunchtime, “you said the old man told you she’d gone away and didn’t want to be followed?”

“Yes, but he was lying,” said Lois shortly. “Don’t bother, Bill. I’ll go on my own.”

Before she could put down the phone, he’d said that of course he would come with her. He would meet her by the lay-by bordering the woods, when he’d finished with his afternoon client.

“It’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it?” he’d said as she got out of her car.

“Not as long as all that,” she’d said, and explained. “If Edward has taken her off, he could’ve hidden her for a bit. After all, Jamie goin’ down to the mill was a surprise. If Edward was around, it could have made him do something daft, bein’ caught on the hop.”

“Do you reckon he’s dangerous?” Bill had asked.

Lois had nodded. “Blokes on the run, like he is, must get desperate. God knows if he’s a threat to Enid. They’re supposed to’ve been close. Still, that don’t always mean anything.”

Now, trudging slowly up and down, working from one side of the wood to the other, they said nothing more. After a while, Bill broke the silence. “They’re big, these woods, Mrs M. We shan’t do it all in one go,” he whispered. “I’ll have to get back in a hour or so. Me and Rebecca are goin’ over to Tresham.”

“That’s OK,” said Lois. “We’ll do as much as we can, and if we haven’t found anything, we’ll do the rest tomorrow.” Her spirits were sinking. She had started off with high hopes, pleased that Bill was with her. He was such a solid chap, and a reassuring one, too. She was sure nothing would happen to her with Bill there.

They had found nothing, no traces of undergrowth beaten down or footprints in soggy ground, and although she was tired and fed-up, and very much aware of Bill’s growing scepticism, she had a strong feeling that somewhere in this paradise of trees in fresh leaf and buds of bursting bluebells was Enid Abraham, hidden from sight and contact with people who could upset her brother’s plans.

Another hour had enabled them to cover about half the acreage of the woods, and they walked back to the car. “Well, nothing there,” said Bill cheerfully, seeing Lois’s long face. “I’ll come back with you tomorrow.”