Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987) (25 page)

“Didn’t you hear what I said!” Edward’s angry voice caused Walter to stir in his sleep, and he mumbled something. Enid caught the word ‘mother’, but nothing more.

“Yes, I did. But I want to know,” she said calmly. “After all, I shall want to send her a postcard of her old home, shan’t I?”

Edward said nothing, but she could hear his quick breathing. Finally he sighed, and his shoulders dropped. She knew she had won.

“It’s over the other side of Tresham,” he said. “St Mary’s Residential and Nursing Home, in that development on the eastern side. New, well-run, and very comfortable. They took her in without notice, luckily, and the minute she got there she seemed to relax. Even talked to the woman who gave us tea. Quite an eye-opener, Enid, to see our mother behaving almost normally!”

“She always loved you, Edward,” Enid said simply.

She again felt the tension, but ignored it. “You could be more understanding, you know,” she continued. “It’s really an illness with her. She can’t help it.”

“Didn’t seem ill when they brought her a plate of cream cakes!” said Edward. “Gobbled them down, like she’d been starved.”

In a way, this reassured Enid. Edward’s typically hardhearted reaction, and his telling the nasty story about Mother and the cakes, sounded convincing enough. Still, he was good at being convincing. Enid sighed. Well, if it was true, perhaps it would be the best thing for her. They might be able to bring her out of her self-imposed isolation, where Enid had failed. Maybe she should stop worrying about Mother, and start thinking about how to deceive Edward into thinking she was happy to go along with him. Her one goal now was to escape, and this would mean abandoning him. Her heart missed a beat, but she reassured herself that he would survive somehow, as he always did. She would return to Cathanger by some means or other, and prepare the way for her father to go back home. She had no idea yet how she would do it, but her mind was quite made up. She just hoped Edward could not tune into her thoughts…and she also hoped he was, for once, telling the truth about Mother.

“Enid? Are you asleep? For God’s sake, I need you to map read now. We’re on the edge of the city, and you bet all the one-way streets have been changed! Wake up, woman!”

Enid had not been asleep. She had her eyes shut, and she was thinking. From now until she reached Cathanger again, she would not stop thinking, nor relax her guard against Edward’s suspicious watch. This time he would not win. This time she would be strong.

Feeling much cheerier, she unfolded the city map, and began to direct Edward towards the centre. “Where are we going to stay?” she said.

“You’ll see,” he answered, and drove on.

When they were right in the heart of the old town, he drew the car to a halt against a high pavement. Enid recognized Lawnmarket, where she used to meet a friend for coffee.

“Help me to unload the stuff,” said Edward. “We can’t park here, of course, but I’ll get you and Father settled in with the luggage, and then go and find a place to leave the car. Wake up, Father! We’re there…back to your old hunting grounds!”

Walter showed no signs of pleasure, but grimly did as he was told. They tramped through the quiet alleyway to the back of a tall building, and then up a stone spiral staircase to the second floor. Walter was puffing and struggling, but Edward forced him on from behind. “Nearly there!” he said, and then opened a door with keys he took from his pocket.

“Lucky I still have friends somewhere,” he said, ushering them into a tiny kitchen. “Old Donald from school has this flat as a bolthole in Edinburgh. He’s done very well, has Donald. Chairman of the Board and all that. Big estate in Galloway. I’ve been useful to him now and then. They come here to escape pressure of business, apparently. No phone, nobody knows when they’re here, except for his loyal secretary. Good idea, eh, Father?”

Walter stared at him, breathing hard.

“And now,” continued Edward, oblivious to everything except the success of his plan so far, “now he and his wife are off in some godforsaken tropical holiday spot for three months. Sent me the keys, bless ‘em. Still,” he added with a grin, “they owe me a favour or two.” He turned to Enid. “Get the kettle on, and we’ll have a bedtime drink when I come back. I’ll get a few supplies from a late-night opening place I saw on the way in. Shouldn’t be more than half an hour. All right, Father?”

Walter nodded mutely, his eyes half-shut.

“Right,” said Enid brightly. “Off you go, Edward. Bring enough food for a couple of meals. I’ll sort things out, and make up beds, and then we’ll get Father settled. He can sleep as long as he likes tomorrow.” She patted her father’s hand, and closed the door behind Edward with relief. She heard him put the key in the lock and turn it. So they were to be prisoners, in case she should alert someone to their whereabouts. Well, she would think of a way round that one, too.

Her father looked poorly, with a blue line around his lips. Those stairs had been too much. She was sure of that. It was even more urgent to work out a way of getting him back home, and she began to unpack and make up beds as rapidly as possible. The sooner she convinced Edward that they were staying with him, the easier it would be to escape.

G
ran had woken up in the middle of the night, certain that she had heard a strange noise from downstairs. She had tiptoed down, holding the old golf club that she always kept under her bed, and now saw with a shiver of fear that a light was on in the kitchen.

“Mum? What on earth is that in your hand?” Lois sat at the kitchen table, mug of hot milk in hand, staring at her mother.

“And what on earth are
you
doing down here at this time of night?” said Gran crossly. She felt foolish, standing there in her nightie holding a golf club.

“Well, one thing’s certain,” said Lois, starting to laugh, “I’m not goin’ out for a quick round of golf!”

Gran sat down at the table and put the club down at her feet. “You know perfectly well I keep it under the bed in case of intruders,” she said. “It was your father’s idea, and a very good one, too. Now, you haven’t answered my question. Why aren’t you in bed asleep?”

“I woke up and couldn’t get off again, so I came down to do a few jobs and not wake Derek.”

“You’re worried about something,” said Gran baldly. “Same thing as me, I expect. I can’t stop thinking about Enid Abraham.”

“And her mother,” added Lois. “They all seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

They were quiet for a minute, and then Gran said, “It’s that Edward, isn’t it? He’s taken them away somewhere, and we’ll never see them again.” She rubbed her eyes, and her lip quivered.

“Oh, yes we will,” said Lois. “We’ll find them, Mum, even if the lousy police have given up. Between us, we ought to be able to think of something that’ll put us on track.”

“What about that car you saw them in?” Gran looked at Lois hopefully. “Surely the police can catch up with that?”

Lois shook her head. “They’ve been keeping watch,” she said, “but there’s no trace.”

“He’s switched cars, then,” said Gran, who loved detective series on the box, and knew all the dodges.

“Very likely,” said Lois. “But that shouldn’t stop them being seen. They’ve got to eat, and pee, and end up somewhere. People don’t just disappear for good.”

“Some do,” said Gran gloomily.

“Maybe one on his own, but not four, and one of ‘em a frail old man,” Lois answered.

Again they fell silent, Gran frowning with the effort of trying to recall something useful.

“Where did they come from before they moved to Cathanger?” said Lois.

“Somewhere up north,” said Gran. “Can’t remember where. I expect the police have made enquiries.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Lois said sourly. They were silent for a moment, and then Lois slapped her hand down on the table. “Blimey! Why didn’t I think of it before? Enid’s job application…had all the details.” Lois stood up briskly and left the kitchen. She was back in seconds, holding the application letter. “Here we are!” she said triumphantly. “Edinburgh! That’s where they lived. And Enid worked in a chemist. Her father was caretaker in a school, and her mother came from round here.”

“So we know quite a lot,” said Gran, cheering up. Then she subsided. “There must be dozens of chemists in Edinburgh,” she said. “And schools. And we don’t know her mother’s maiden name.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence!” said Lois, picking up the golf club and handing it to her mother. “Tomorrow, first thing, you’re going to see your pals in the WI. One of them’ll know who Mrs Abraham was before she married, you bet. Nothing escapes that lot. And I shall get busy on the web. Can’t be too difficult to find a list of Edinburgh chemists and schools and make a few calls. Now, back to bed, Mum. We shall have Derek down here in a minute.”

On cue, the door opened and a sleepy, irritated Derek came in. “What the bloody hell are you two doing?”

“Practising our golf swings, o’course,” said Lois, turning him round and patting his pyjama’d bottom. “Off we all go, now. Busy day tomorrow. Night-night, Mum. Put the lights out for us, will you?”

§

Next morning, Lois decided her first priority was to do something she’d decided on last night, but not told her mother. The real reason she had come down in the night had been a recurring nightmare she could not shake off. She was standing in pouring rain on a dark, stormy night on the bridge by Cathanger. The water was rising and she felt it slowly submerging her. Then she was afloat, over the edge of the bridge, and being tossed in the dark water. Carried downstream, gasping and trying to keep her head above water, she had felt the blow as she hit the dam, and this woke her, shaking and bathed in sweat.

There was only one thing to do, and she intended to do it this morning. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky, and nothing down by the bridge would be sinister or likely to inflame her imagination. She would walk by the edge of the stream, past the dam and beyond, as far as she could go. If she found nothing untoward, it would be her best chance of putting the nightmare to rest.

§

By the time Lois drove through the tunnel of trees and parked in a field opening, the sun had gone and heavy clouds threatened rain. She pulled on a waterproof jacket and headed back down the lane towards the bridge. A vehicle passed her, and somebody waved. Rosie Charrington, on her way to the shops in Tresham. Lois reflected on how quickly the Charringtons had been absorbed into the area, quickly accepted by the natives. He was a vet, and a vital part of farming life. No matter that the inside of Bell’s farm looked like the interior decor department of the smartest store in Tresham, or that the kids were looked after by an au pair most of the time. Vets were OK, and their wives and kids and etceteras likewise.

Not so the Abrahams. They hadn’t tried, mind you, and even discouraged friendly overtures, if any. Poor Enid.

Lois climbed over the end of the bridge, and stepped gingerly along the muddy bank. She pushed her way through thicket, now in leaf and difficult to negotiate. She came to the dam, and looked back along the quietly flowing water to the bridge. It was rippling and clear, and concealed nothing but an old oil drum, rusting and open at both ends. Nothing there, then. She examined the dam, and saw the division of the stream into two rivulets. They had been rushing torrents on that dreadful night, but now ambled gently round the dam and joined up again the other side. Lois peered down into the thickly woven branches and bits of old timber and saw nothing out of the way. Then a white flicker at the water’s edge caught her eye. She leaned over precariously, and managed to grab a small piece of cloth, closely entangled in the twigs. She pulled, but it didn’t shift.

Then she leaned over too far, and put out one foot to save herself toppling in. Water came in over her shoe and up to her ankle.

“Damn!” Lois steadied herself and retreated up the bank. The white cloth still flickered tantalizingly in the water, but now Lois could see it had a scalloped edge and traces of embroidered flowers in one corner. A lady’s handkerchief, then? A quick flash of alarm sent signals to Lois’s ready imagination. She took a deep breath, told herself it could have belonged to anyone, any passer-by who leaned over the bridge to look into the flowing stream.

She pushed her way out of the bushes which grew thickly at the edge of the wood, and followed the path of the stream out into the field. It was pasture, and she could see cows – she hoped they were cows and not bullocks – in the distance by the hedge. They were lying down, a sure sign of rain, Gran said.

Lois plodded on, putting up her hood now that the sun had disappeared and heavy drops were falling steadily. Something quick and reddish rushed into the wood and disappeared. A hungry fox. Lois shivered, and not entirely because of the drop in temperature. She stopped and looked around. The stream was in open country now, and she reckoned nothing would have happened out here, without cover or shelter. Perhaps now she’d sleep more easily.

A small spinney, planted by the farmer as a sop to saving the environment, came into sight. The stream ran through it, and either side mossy banks proved slippery in the rain. Lois decided she’d go to the other side of the spinney, and then call it a day. She’d come a good mile now, and considered that would be a limit to whatever might have been possible that night.

She saw it then, and in terror missed her footing, ending up on her back in dripping undergrowth. Close to the stream, where the soil was soft and manageable, was a patch of fresh, bright green growth. Grass and water plants had grown much more thickly here, nourished by something nameless.

Rising up from all this lushness, something whitish, thin and bony stuck out. Lois struggled to her feet, her heart thumping. She peered closer, saw what it was and gagged. A hand, somehow risen to the surface, and showing quite clearly a wedding ring, washed clean by the falling rain. Lois was gulping deep draughts of air, desperately trying to stop herself vomiting. Finally she allowed herself to turn and have another look. So that was it. That was where Enid’s mother had ended up. It
had
been a face that night, and someone had finally followed the tumbling body, snatched it from the stream and given it this indecent burial.