Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987) (27 page)

§

Edward hugged the inside edge of the pavement, walking quickly with his head down. Just up from the alley leading to their flat, a small newsagent and sweetshop made a good living selling a wide range of newspapers in several languages. Tourists had come back to Edinburgh after a bad season when nobody travelled unless they had to, fearful of terrorist attacks.

“Good afternoon,” said the Asian proprietor, smiling pleasantly at Edward. “May I help you?” He stared at the unkempt figure, and wondered privately where he had come from. He was an unusual customer in this affluent part of the old town. Edward did not reply, but held out a couple of papers and the exact money, still with his head down and face concealed. “Thank you, sir,” said the newsagent, and glanced at the front page of one of the papers Edward clutched. A large photograph of a haunted-looking face had pride of place. “Find This Man!” said the headline.

“Looks like a big story, sir,” he said politely, but Edward did not answer and vanished quickly from the shop. He must get back to the flat as quickly as possible. Diving into a mini-supermarket, he picked up some essentials and blessed the checkout girl, who was talking so hard to her neighbour that she scarcely looked at him. He hurried back up the spiral staircase and shut the door behind him with relief. There was much to do before he could venture out again.

“You’re back soon,” Enid called from the kitchen. “Did you remember the painkillers?”

“Tomorrow will do,” said Edward curtly. He looked around the small entrance lobby, searching for a place to hide the telltale newspapers. Ah, that would do. A pile of old magazines, hidden by a vacuum cleaner. He shoved the papers under the pile, and went through to the sitting-room. Enid must be kept in the dark for as long as possible. Thank God there was no television in the flat, nor radio. All part of Donald getting away from it all. Edward had checked, of course, ready to disable any means of communication from the outside world. God, it’s just as well I’ve a good head on my shoulders, he congratulated himself, and then remembered that that had been his mother’s favourite phrase. He blotted out the memory, took the shopping through to Enid, and disappeared into the bathroom saying, “Sudden call of nature! But I got all we need, and I’ll get the rest later.”

§

Next time Enid checked on Father, he greeted her with a much stronger voice, and her spirits began to rise. Her plan depended on him being at least mobile. She made him a cup of tea, and was surprised to see that Edward was still in the bathroom. When he finally emerged, Enid stared. “What on earth?” she said. He had shaved off his straggly beard with an old razor of Donald’s and, more shockingly, all his hair had gone too. He was completely bald.

“Now,” he said, with a jaunty smile, “I look like every other yobbo, don’t I?” His dark eyes burned into her, and she shivered.

“Yes, you do, Edward,” she said. “Nobody would recognize you.” Surely that was the right thing to say. But he was advancing on her, and she shrank back. He only patted her shoulder.

“Good girl,” he said. “Father better? Splendid. Must get going now. I’ll be back shortly. Got to get a few new clothes…there’s an Oxfam shop down the road. Don’t want to look
too
smart and new!” He looked around the room, and then pounced on a small table by the electric fire. “I knew I’d seen them! Must be Donald’s,” he said, and put on a pair of rimless glasses, which, as he’d hoped, completed the transformation.

Enid realized with a sinking heart that he was exhilarated by this new game. A challenge, he would have called it, but she knew it was the adrenaline of pitting himself against an unseen enemy that gave him the feeling of excitement he’d always craved.

“Don’t forget to find a surgery,” she said, suspecting rightly that concern for Father had gone right out of his head. “He’s much better, but still needs to see a doctor. Don’t forget, will you, Edward?”

He shook his head impatiently. Then, unaccustomed to his scalp’s sudden exposure to fresh air, ran his hand over his baldness. “Well, you know,” he said, “it really feels quite good. Sort of clean and businesslike! Perhaps I’ll keep it like this, when…well…”

“When what, Edward?” said Enid quietly.

“When all of this is over. When I’ve got it sorted,” he said. He blinked several times and said, “You know, Enid, I hadn’t realized that I do need glasses!” With a grin he went out again, locking the door behind him. She heard his quick footsteps on the narrow spiral stairs, and then silence.

Enid quietly busied herself tidying the flat and piling up their few belongings. Drawers and cupboards were full of the owner’s clothes and shoes, but she managed to clear some space. Edward must get no hint that she meant to leave. Oh, Edward…She took a deep breath, and continued work. Everywhere was dusty, and she wondered how long since Donald and his wife had been here. Probably one of those couples who wintered abroad, she thought enviously. Still, it was not winter any more. They might be back soon. But Edward was thorough. He would not have brought them here if Donald had been expected back shortly.

She found a duster and went systematically round the flat. I wonder how the Charringtons are managing without me, she thought sadly. Perfectly well, probably. Mrs M will have organized it. Probably forgotten all about me. Out of sight, out of mind. A tear dropped on to the duster, and she sniffed. In the lobby by the front door, she found the cleaner and pulled it out, ready to give everywhere a good going over. Then she saw the pile of magazines. They were mostly colour supplements from old Sunday papers. Still, Father might like to look at them. He could leaf through them, see if anything interested him. She lifted the pile and saw the newspapers underneath.

Edward stared out at her from the photograph. It was an old one, taken when he had won a clay pigeon shooting match in Fletching. His hair was neat, but long, and he had a beard. ‘
FIND THIS MAN
’. She read on, and finally put the pile of magazines back to cover the newspapers. She went unsteadily into the sitting-room, collapsing on a chair and putting her head between her knees to fight the overwhelming faintness.

“Enid? Enid, can I have a drink of water, dear?” It was her father, calling in a much stronger voice. She stood up, and with a huge effort walked slowly into the kitchen to run some cold water into a clean glass. She gulped a mouthful herself, and then took it in to her father.

“Ah, there you are,” he said. “I’m feeling much better, dear. Perhaps I’ll get up soon and maybe manage a stroll outside?” He seemed to have forgotten they were prisoners, and Enid wondered if it had all been too much for him.

“We’ll see,” said Enid, and managed a small smile. We’re not going anywhere, Father, she wanted to say. At least, not until I’ve made it safe for you. “We’ll see,” she repeated. “Now, would you like me to sit with you for a bit? We can have a nice talk.”

§

“Oh, look!” said the woman from the Midlands, peering round the edge of the curtain down into the courtyard. “There’s another man from that staircase. Must be several of them in that tiny flat. He walks like the other one. Perhaps he’s his brother…?”

“For goodness sake!” said her husband. “We haven’t come all this way to indulge in gossip about what you see through the lace curtains. Come away from the window at once!”

“They’re not lace,” said his wife stubbornly. “The Trust would never have lace curtains. And it’s not gossip. You’re the one who’s always saying I’m not observant enough. I’m just taking an intelligent interest in my surroundings.”

“Huh,” her husband replied. “Sounds like gossip to me.”

She gave up, and came away from the window. “I think I’ll go shopping,” she said.

“Hang on a minute,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” Oh, bugger, she thought, but she waited while he put on his coat and hat, and they went out together.

L
ois ticked off dusters from her list. A robot could do this, she thought, as she went on to the shelves round the corner. Operating mechanically, she continued to push her heavy trolley round the wholesalers, her mind on Enid, captive and miserable. She knew Cowgill had the whole thing well organized now, and she expected a call any minute to say the Abrahams had been found. But she dreaded one thing. It was certain they would be found – but dead or alive? Two dead, and one alive? Anyone who had murdered his mother and buried her in a muddy field would stop at nothing. She was sure that a criminal’s first murder, like the first theft, would be the most difficult. After that, the most basic hurdle had been taken. Thou shalt not break the law. Most of us, she thought to herself as she consulted her list, don’t even try. We may feel like it sometimes. Some people even have enough provocation…

Provocation. That word stuck in her head as she struggled on. What had driven Edward to do it? She knew he had frequent rows with his father. He’d even physically attacked him that night in the yard. It had been him, for sure. But his mother? She adored him. Lois knew that from the diary. She supposed she should give that to Cowgill now, but for the moment…

When she returned home, she took it out of her drawer and turned again to the last entry. “Haven’t seen my Teddy for so long…” What had happened to stop her just there? It was the day of the flood. And the day Enid said her mother shut herself up completely, and she’d not seen her since. Because she’d not been there at all. Because she’d been rolling down the swollen torrent until she’d fetched up on the bank, and then one of them, Edward or Walter, had dug a shallow grave and buried her. She remembered Enid saying her father had been out very early next day and done a thorough search.

§

Bridie Reading was also thinking about Enid. She hadn’t particularly liked the woman, and nor had Hazel. Particularly Hazel. She knew too much about the Abraham family, and was wary. Her mum said she had a nose for trouble, and meant it as a compliment. Now they sat watching breakfast television, but neither was concentrating.

“Mum,” Hazel said. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything about that Mrs Abraham living round here as a girl? You know, Lois asked us.”

“Never heard anything. ‘Course, I wasn’t in Farnden when she was a girl,” Bridie said slowly. “When they came back, they were just left to get on with it. Villages are like that.”

“Yeah, but villages are full of gossips,” said Hazel. “Surely somebody…?”

“Hey, wait a minute!” said Bridie. She sat up, reached for the remote, and turned off the television. “Why didn’t we think of it before? Ivy Beasley!”

“What, that old biddy over at Ringford? Her that nearly married her lodger, and then he done a runner?”

“That’s her,” said Bridie. “Why don’t you call in on that old woman at the lodge, just in a friendly way, to check she’s OK. Then you’d have an excuse to go on and see Miss Beasley. She’s the old one’s friend. Nothin’ has ever escaped her eagle eye. Chat her up.”

“Chat her up!” said Hazel, grinning. “She’ll have my guts for garters, if what I’ve heard is true. Still, I’ll give it a try. Nice one, Mum.”

§

“I
know
who you are,” said Ivy Beasley. “No need to go into all that.” She had opened the door a crack, and peered through at this unwanted visitor.

Hazel stood on the scrubbed white step, and smiled. It was an effort, but she had to stop the woman shutting the door. “I need help,” she said. “They say you know everything about what goes on in these parts. Old Ellen said. Can you spare me a minute?”

There was pause while Ivy Beasley considered it. Then, to Hazel’s relief, she opened the door wider and said, “I suppose you’d better come in, then. You’ll have to be in the kitchen. Front room’s just been cleaned. And it had better be quick.”

Hazel ignored the suggestion that she might sully the best chairs, and went through.

“It’s about the Abrahams at Cathanger,” she began.

“Of course it is,” said Miss Beasley sharply. “D’you think I’m stupid? What d’you want to know?”

“The mother’s maiden name. Seems she came from round here.” Hazel realized there was no point in niceties. Straight to the point with Ivy Beasley.

“Ah, yes, well, it looks like your boss has backed the wrong horse in employing one of them Abrahams,” she said. “Still, that’s her affair. But if you ask me, she’d steer well clear of them in the future.”

“Yes, well, as you say, that’s Mrs Meade’s affair, Miss Beasley. We just think it might be helpful – I don’t need to explain why – to discover as much as possible about them. Enid Abraham’s a good worker, and Mrs M’s very concerned.” Hazel knew she sounded defensive, but could not help it. There were limits.

“No need to get all hoity-toity, Hazel Reading, not if you want me to tell you what I know.”

Hazel sighed, trying to be patient. If this Miss Beasley knew something, it could be worth waiting for.

After settling herself, Ivy began in a different, confiding voice, “Well, I didn’t think nothing of it when Mrs Meade’s mother was asking around at the WI. But later on, when I got home and was feeding that cat, it came back to me.”

“Yes?” Hazel diplomatically stroked a big, ordinary-looking tabby that had landed unasked on her lap.

“The Abraham woman. She were a Blenkinsop. Big family o’girls. Father worked on the railways with my dad. She was younger than me, o’course. But I remember her as a whiney, spoilt sort of creature. Good at getting her own way. That kind o’thing. Blenkinsop. She went away when she got married, and then when they came back, didn’t want to know any of us. Ideas above her station, if you ask me. Well, that was it. Blenkinsop.”

She was silent then, and Hazel said, “That’s very interesting, Miss Beasley. Thank you. I wonder, could I…?” But Ivy Beasley was on her feet, showing her out of the kitchen. Hazel knew she’d got all the information Miss Beasley was prepared to release, and, standing once more on the white step, turned to thank her. But the door had shut, and she returned to her car.

§

Lois listened carefully to what Hazel reported. “Well done,” she said.

“Not much help, really,” said Hazel gloomily, shifting the telephone receiver from one hand to the other. “Everything helps,” said Lois. “Now we know what kind of woman she was. That could be very useful, and we might catch up with some other Blenkinsops…”