Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987) (3 page)

§

“You were a long time,” said Gran, as Lois walked in. “Any good? Bill Whatsisname?”

“Stockbridge,” replied Lois, sniffing the clean warmth of the kitchen, and bubbling beef stew on the Rayburn. “Yep, he was really nice. Fanner’s son from Yorkshire. Girlfriend teaches in Waltonby village school. Cottage clean and tidy, and no problems that I could see.”

“Why does he want to be a cleaner?” said Gran, going for the jugular. Lois shrugged. “Maybe he’s heard New Brooms is the place to be? No, but seriously, I think he may not last long. He’s been working at the hospital for a while, since he came down to be with his Rebecca. Now he says the idea of going round the villages, being on the move, appeals to him. He didn’t really say, but I bet it’s not that easy to get farm work these days. All done by computers.”

Gran laughed. “Don’t you mean robots?” she said. “Anyway, I know what you mean. Bloody great machines in the lanes and whizzing over the fields. Men not needed, not like they were in the old days.”

Lois could see a rambling tale about picnics in the harvest fields coming up, and so excused herself, saying Miss Abraham would be here in half an hour, and she just needed to organize one or two things. Gran muttered on about another missed meal, but Lois said she was looking forward to beef stew for tea, and meanwhile she’d have a cup of coffee.

“Coffee!” humphed Gran. “That’ll do you no good…” But Lois was already in her office, checking phone messages, and preparing to receive Enid Abraham, spinster of the parish of Waltonby, writer of good letters, and probably totally unsuitable for the work Lois was offering.

G
ran went to open the door. She loved to do this. What some would call nosy, Gran regarded as healthy curiosity.

“Good morning!” she said brightly, looking approvingly at the neat figure in front of her. Well-cut grey coat, sober scarf.

Miss Enid Abraham, clutching a well-worn black handbag in both hands, said nervously, “Is this right for Mrs Meade? I have an appointment…” Her voice trailed off apprehensively.

Lois came out of her office and took over. This maid-of-all-work act of her mother’s irritated her, and she knew exactly why she did it. She liked to be kept informed, did Gran, and it never occurred to Lois that she herself might just be a chip off the old block.

“Come in, Miss Abraham, please,” she said, leading the way into her office. “D’you want to take your coat off? It’s quite warm in here, and you’ll not feel the benefit when you go out again.”

Enid Abraham’s face broke suddenly into a broad smile, miraculously transforming her colourless features. “Oh, goodness,” she said, “I’ve not heard anyone say that since my grandmother died! Oh yes, thank you, I’ll just put them on the chair.” She slipped quickly out of her coat, and folded her scarf. “It is really cold now, isn’t it,” she said, turning back to Lois and sitting down in the chair by Lois’s desk.

Lois nodded and smiled. Perhaps it was going to be easier than she had expected. She felt slightly uncomfortable, like some upper-class dame who’d inserted an ad for a mother’s help in
The Lady
. Well, she wasn’t, and the sooner they got things on to the proper footing the better.

“Now, Miss Abraham,” she said firmly. “I’m looking for a cleaner. Someone who’s not afraid of hard work. We don’t gossip, and the girls are used to taking orders. We operate as a team, and you’d have to be happy to be out in all weathers and all times of day. You do drive, don’t you?”

None of this had wiped the smile off Enid Abraham’s face, and she replied mildly, “I drove here, Mrs Meade.”

“In your letter,” continued Lois, still in the stern, no-nonsense voice, “you said you could fit in ‘to some extent’. What did you mean exactly?”

Enid Abraham shifted in her chair. “I’d prefer not to be out after tea…that is, supper…as Mother is a bit nervous about…well, if it could be any time before fiveish…”

“How about early in the morning?” said Lois. Some of her clients liked their homes or premises to be sparkling before the working day started.

“Oh, yes…that would be fine. Father is always up early…we have a few beasts in the barn. They’re in for the winter. Summer, of course, they’re in the field…Anyway,” she added swiftly, “I could certainly be available as early as you like.”

“Beasts?” said Lois incredulously, remembering
The Creature from Cathanger Mill
.

“Oh, that’s just the old country word for cattle,” said Enid Abraham. “Mother and Father were both country people. Father’s family had land in Norfolk, but he wanted to do something different. Neither were Scottish, of course, but he’d seen an advertisement for a business for sale in Edinburgh, and they went up there soon after they were married.”

She was silent for a moment, and Lois said, “So what happened?”

“Well, the first business failed…and the next. He lost heart then, and ended up a school caretaker. He was happier when we moved down here, back to farming in a small way. Until, of course, Mother…” All at once the smile was gone. Her mouth shut tight, and she looked down at her hands.

“Why didn’t you want me to come to the mill?” said Lois. She had forgotten this, in the unexpected pleasantness of talking to Miss Abraham. Now she waited. It was quite a wait, and Lois could hear Gran clattering about in the kitchen, offended that she’d been sent packing to the nether regions of the house.

Finally Enid Abraham looked up. “It’s Mother,” she said. “She’s a bit nervous about people coming to the house. Nothing serious, but we humour her if we can, you know. We’re a bit isolated at the mill, anyway, so it doesn’t make much difference to us.”

“Who is us?” said Lois. She had to ask. “We saw you on the telly…about your brother. You didn’t mention a brother in your letter.” She hesitated, seeing all traces of colour drain away from Enid Abraham’s face. “It’s no business of mine, of course,” Lois added quickly. “But it must be common knowledge now, after the news, an’ that…”

“Yes,” said Enid Abraham quietly. “I didn’t want them there. The television people came down to the mill, and I talked to them so they would go away quickly. Mother, you know…”

“And your brother? Are you worried about him?” This was chancing her arm, Lois knew, but then the private lives of her cleaners were her concern. She had learned that the hard way.

“I’d rather not talk about him, if you don’t mind, Mrs Meade,” was the reply. “He has always been difficult…though when we were children…Anyway,” she added quickly, “between you and me, Mrs Meade, it would be such a relief to me if he could make a life somewhere else.” Then she sat upright and the shutters came down, and she was the neat, remote, single woman of unblemished character once more.

There was a lot more to say about Edward Abraham, as Lois was to find out, but for the moment the subject was closed.

§

“What a nice woman,” said Gran, when the visitor had gone. “Did you take her on?” Enid Abraham had smiled wistfully as Lois said she would let her know.

“Not without thinking about it,” said Lois abstractedly. It was going to be difficult, this one. She felt, like her mother, that Miss Abraham was a nice, gentle and clearly well-educated woman. She seemed completely without side, and her neat, clean appearance boded well for the job. There was no reason, on the face of it, why she shouldn’t hire her. But then, what about the brother, and the mother, and the gruff father, and the dark and dismal mill house…?

When Derek came in for his tea, she had made a decision, and was not at all sure whether Derek would agree with it. Not that it mattered, she told herself defensively, but another point of view was always useful.

“You must be mad,” he said. “I thought I told you – ”

“I know you did,” said Lois. “But she turned out to be a very good sort of woman, just right for us.”

“Huh!” said Derek. “Well, nothin’ I say’ll make any difference. I’m used to that. So it’s your affair, me duck. Don’t blame me if it goes wrong. And the minute that Cowgill puts in an appearance, she gets the chop. Agreed?”

“Right,” she said. She always agreed when Derek got masterful. He seldom held it against her when she did the opposite. “I’ve got no worries about Bill Stockbridge,” she continued, “except whether he’ll stick at it.”

“He’d be better sticking to farming,” said Derek, reaching for the teapot.

“Here!” said Gran. “Give me that! We don’t want ginger twins, do we?” She chuckled and poured him another cup. “Well,” she continued, “I didn’t get a chance to talk to Miss Abraham” – this with a meaningful look at Lois – “but she looked just the ticket to me. She’d get on with the others all right, too, if she’s used to handling a difficult family. I might be able to help her out,” she added briskly.

“No, Mum, you keep out of it!” said Lois firmly.

“So that’s all the thanks I get,” Gran said huffily, “for working my elbows to the bone – ”

“For God’s sake!” said Derek. “Can’t a man get a bit o’ peace in his own house? Women!”

§

It was about an hour later that Derek picked up the paper, leafing idly through the property pages while Gran listened to
The Archers
, her favourite radio soap. Everything stopped for
The Archers
. Lois said Gran learned more about the country from
The Archers
than she did from living in the middle of it. Derek said that he was buggered if anybody could learn anything about the country from
The Archers
! Just like all the other soaps, he reckoned, with a few mouldy sheep baaing in the background.

“Hey,” he said now, “look at this.”

“Sshh!” said Gran.

Lois leaned over Derek’s shoulder and peered at the paper. It was a house-for-sale advertisement, with a small, smudgy picture. “That’s that farmhouse just up the road from Cathanger Mill,” he said. Her hair tickled his face, and in spite of himself he turned and kissed her cool cheek. “Bin empty for years,” he said, as she kissed him back. “Old Joe Bell used to live there, and let it go after his wife died. Mind you, it’s one of them old stone farmhouses that are solid as a rock. Wouldn’t take much to get it up to scratch. Still, look what they want for it!”

“Blimey!” said Lois, relieved that he’d cheered up. “Not worth five hundred the way it is now. Still, it’s got a few acres. Some townie with kids and a pony will buy it, you bet. Restore it to something it’s never bin, and move in with the four-by-four and a mother’s help. Beats me why they have kids, that sort, if they can’t even be bothered to look after them!”

“Well, we’ll see if anybody’s fool enough to buy it at that price,” said Derek.

Tumpty, tumpty, tumpty, turn, went
The Archers
’ tune, and Gran turned off the radio. “That Brian Aldridge,” she said. “A leopard never changes its spots. If I had my way, I’d put him up against a wall and shoot him.”

I
n a newish estate of executive dwellings in a well-heeled suburb of Birmingham, Rosie Charrington sat at an elegant little writing table she had bought for a song at a car boot sale. She turned over a pile of newspapers, each time going straight to the property pages. Rosie and husband Sebastian, a local vet dealing mostly with dogs, cats and hamsters, had decided it was time to move out to the
real
country. It would be good for the children, Maria and Felix, to get some fresh air into their lungs. It would be a whole new social life for Rosie and Sebastian, and if they chose wisely Rosie could still be within reach of motorways that would take her swiftly back to civilization when required. And if Sebastian could get that job with a veterinary practice advertised in the area they had chosen, he could get back to the large and, to Rosie, fearsome farm animals he loved best.

Her moving finger stopped on a smudgy photograph. She peered more closely. “Bell’s Farm,” she read, “situated in one of the county’s most desirable areas, close to the M40 and M1, and maintaining its rural charm. Four acres of pasture, with delightful stream. Barns and stabling, many original features. In need of some restoration.”

Excitement rose. This was it, Rosie felt it in her bones. Sebastian had said the best thing was to get a property where they could rebuild and restore to get it exactly how they wanted it. She looked at the price. More or less within their limits, and Sebastian was good at bargaining. “Bell’s Farm,” she said aloud. It had a good, plain ring to it. They’d need to change her car, of course. Sebastian had a company Ford, but she’d need one of those off-road jobs. Pile in all the children, and Anna, and they’d have to get a dog…or two…

“Mrs Charrington?” It was Anna, a Polish girl who looked after the children and had failed to master much of the English language in six months’ stay. “I go for the children?” she said, looking up at the old shelf clock.

“No, no,” said Rosie. “It’s your free time. I’ll get them, and then nip into the supermarket for some food for tonight. I’ve got something exciting to show you later on,” she added, and never thought to wonder if Anna would like living in the country, where there would be no other Polish au pairs to befriend, and where there was only one bus per week to get her into town.

§

Not many miles away, in the reception class of Waltonby village school, Rebecca Rogers was tidying up her classroom after her pupils had gone home. She’d been out in the freezing playground, making herself available for any worried mum whose child had not yet settled down, though it was two months since the start of the new school year. Most of her little ones soon accustomed themselves to the new, strange routines, especially those who had been to playschool already. There was really only one, whose parents were older than average and had clung overprotectively to this little girl, keeping her a precious baby until the law said she had to go and join the cruel outside world of Waltonby village school.

“Miss Rogers?”

Rebecca blinked. “Sorry, Mrs Stratford,” she said. “I was miles away. Can I help?”

Sheila Stratford, one of New Brooms’ cleaners and Waltonby grandmother, stood smiling at her. “I just wondered if you were carrying on with the milk bottle tops collection, like last year? My granddaughter’s just gone up a class, and I’ve got a bagful here. But I can take them away if you’re not…”