Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987) (30 page)

“What are you talking about, Enid?” said Walter, peering out. “There’s nobody about.”

“She means the cat,” said the taxi driver. “It’s all right, missus,” he said. “I seen it already.”

“Pull up here, please,” Enid said, leaning forward to put her hand on the door. She felt comforted, reassured, just from the look of Lois’s solid house, full of people she knew. Now they would be all right. Her father had slept during most of the train journey, but now he was awake and querulous.

“Where’re we going?” he repeated, over and over, as the taxi left the station.

“To get help,” Enid said. “No good going to Cathanger first. It’ll be bolted and barred, for sure. We’ll go to Mrs M’s and find Gran, and then we’ll be fine.”

Walter was not convinced. “I’m hungry,” he said now. “And cold. I wish we’d stayed in Edinburgh.”

Enid gritted her teeth. She opened her handbag, paid the driver, and got her father out on to the pavement. “Now,” she said firmly, “be very quiet. We won’t wake the children, if we’re lucky. Come on, Father, best foot forward.”

§

Lois struggled out of sleep. She’d been dreaming that she was down at Cathanger, and bulldozers had arrived to knock the place down. Bang, crash! They wouldn’t listen as she pleaded with them to stop. Bang, bang! Now more or less awake, she could still hear the noise. Then she realized it was the door knocker. “Derek! Derek! Wake up! Somebody’s at the door!”

“Let them bugger off then,” said Derek, turning over and burrowing under the duvet.

“No, we’d better go and see. Might be an emergency in the village. Fire or something.”

Derek groaned. “Oh, all right,” he said and stumbled out of bed. Minutes later, he was back. “Lois,” he whispered, “you’d better come straight away. Visitors.” He helped her on with her wrap, and they went downstairs. When she asked who they were, he just put his finger to his lips, motioning her to be quiet.

The light was on in the sitting-room, and the curtains still drawn. On the sofa, sitting as primly as when she came for interview, sat Enid. Next to her, her father slumped in the corner. Enid was holding his hand.

“So sorry to disturb you, Mrs M,” she said, and burst into tears.

§

Much later, when the story had been told, and Gran had appeared, embraced Enid and clucked about like an old hen, preparing food and makeshift beds, they all sat quietly, calming down before sleep.

Lois looked at Enid’s exhausted face, and decided the necessary call to Cowgill could easily wait until morning. There would be much to do, and she could see that Gran intended to help her friend as much as possible. It was not going to be easy. Enid would be betraying her own brother…more than that, her twin. And then, afterwards, there would months and months of repercussions, all the horrors of evidence and trial. She hoped Enid and Walter could stand up to the strain. Old Walter was looking frail and ill. His only son, finally facing the music. What would it do to him?

“Come on, then,” said Derek, taking the lead. “Everybody back to bed. Tomorrow’s another day.”

They began to stir in their seats, when Walter said, “Just a minute. I got something to say.”

“Can’t it wait, Mr Abraham?” said Lois.

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Sooner the better. Sit down Enid.”

They all stared at him, and Lois had a sinking feeling. Old Walter looked grim, grasping the arm of the sofa so hard that his knuckles were white.

“It was me,” he said. “Couldn’t stand any more. I killed her. It was the storm, and she was wild. Hit out at me with a poker, an’ I grabbed her. Pushed her on to the bed and put a pillow over her head, and suffocated her. She struggled…stronger than I thought…but I held on until she stopped. Then Edward came in and saw what I’d done. He was beside himself. Dunno why,” he said reflectively. “Wasn’t that fond of her himself. Still, I thought he’d go for me, he looked so mad. Tried to take it out on me later, that night your lad came down to the mill.” Lois barely nodded.

The old man took out a grubby handkerchief and blew his nose hard. Then he sighed, and continued in a quiet, remote voice, “After he’d got over the shock of seeing what I’d done, Edward pulled himself together and took over. We carried her on the path by the stream to hide her until next day, and I slipped. She went in. Gone in a minute. It was that deep, the night we had the flood. You’d gone to bed early,” he added, turning to Enid, whose expression of anxious concern did not change. “So we had to be back quick, in case you woke up. It was a noisy night, with the wind banging about an’ everything.” He turned to Lois. “Then you come down, looking for help with your car, and asking awkward questions.” He looked accusingly at her, and she stared back at him, remembering only too well that dreadful night.

Walter shook his head, as if trying to clear his head of tumbling thoughts. “Edward said we’d find her first thing, and we did,” he continued. “We put her to rest, down by the stream in the meadow, under a nice bit o’grass…Then we planned what to do next. Edward thought up the nursing home story, and he moved into Mother’s room. Pretended to be her.”

The silence was complete. Gran coughed and broke the spell.

“My God,” said Lois, and Derek took her hand.

“God help us all,” said Gran, and moved across to put her arm round Enid’s shoulders.

The old man looked at his daughter, and she turned to him. She gently removed Gran’s arm, and stood up.

“Time for bed, Father,” she said, and he meekly followed her out of the room.

L
ois was up at six. She crept downstairs, hoping not to wake the others, though she doubted if any of them had had much sleep. Gran had made hot toddies all round, so perhaps Enid, who had looked completely beaten, had managed a few hours. The old man had seemed in a daze, once he’d made his great revelation. Lois had re-run those staggering few minutes over and over. He had seemed honest and straightforward enough, but was all of it true? Or was he just continuing the habit of those past years, protecting his son from retribution?

As she opened the kitchen door, a strange sight awaited her. Jamie, hair sticking up like a brush and sleepy-eyed, was filling the kettle from the tap. He had a tray ready laid with one mug and a plate of biscuits in an untidy heap.

“What on earth…?” Lois stared at him. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No, haven’t looked,” said Jamie mutinously. “But I know Miss Abraham is back. I heard her voice in the middle of the night. I’m takin’ her a cup of tea.”

Lois walked over to where he stood, put her arms around him and hugged. “Very nice of you, Jamie,” she said. “And yes, you’re right, she is back, with her father. They came in late last night. Now they’re upstairs, fast asleep, I hope.”

“Oh,” he said, and put down the kettle.

“Too early to wake them,” said Lois, seeing his disappointment, “but I could really do with a cup. Let’s both have one, an’ a biscuit. Then you can nip back to bed for a bit. School today.”

Jamie made a face, but told her the session with Gran had worked. “I can still remember the dates,” he said confidently.

“Cold all gone, then?” said Lois with a grin. Jamie tried an experimental cough. It wasn’t much good, so he nodded and said he’d be OK for school, just about.

Before the others appeared, Lois went quietly into her office and rang Cowgill’s emergency number. He received the news with serious concentration, and told her to keep Enid and Walter with her until they came over later. “We won’t come too early – they must be exhausted. It’ll be about half nine. As you say, it’ll be crucial to check Walter’s story. Oh, yes,” he added, “and we are already on Edward’s track, thanks to you. Located his friend MacDougall’s secretary, and she gave us the address. From what you said about the sleeping pills, Edward should still be dead to the world.”

“I hope not,” said Lois flatly. “We could do without another.”

“Unfortunate phrase, that’s all, Lois. No room for sentiment in our job. And by ‘our’, I mean you too. I’ll be in touch.”

Lois sat very still in her office for several minutes, reluctant to begin a day which could only be a nightmare.

Derek stuck his head round the door and said she was to come and have breakfast at once. “Lot to do today, me duck,” he said, “and you’ll be no good to nobody without somethin’ hot inside you. Gran’s down, and got things going.” He smiled at her and disappeared. It was still very quiet in the house.

Lois sat down to a quick plate of cereals, hoping Gran would leave it that. She heard light footsteps in the hall and Enid appeared. “Good morning,” she said tentatively. She tried a small smile. “So sorry about last night,” she said. “I expect you are all tired this morning. Your toddy was delicious,” she added to Gran. “Seems to have given Father much needed rest.”

“What about you?” said Gran, noticing dark shadows under Enid’s eyes.

“So-so,” Enid replied. “But I’ll never be able to repay your kindness, you and Mrs M.” Her voice quavered a little, and Lois said, “Never mind about that. Come and get some breakfast. Shall we let your father sleep on?”

“Well…” Enid was hesitant. “I had hoped we could be out of your way first thing, but he was sleeping so peacefully…and goodness knows what’s going to happen today…”

She bit her lip and looked away, out at the sunny morning.

“You’re not going anywhere, not today,” Lois said firmly. “You’re no trouble to us. Mr Abraham needs to gather strength.”

Enid nodded. “And I expect you’ve had to tell…?” Her voice trailed off in the familiar way, and Lois felt a pang of guilt.

“Yes,” she said gently. “Afraid I had to. The police’ll be round in a while to ask some questions. But don’t worry,” she added, “they know the score. Inspector Cowgill will make sure your father is handled with care.”

Gran put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Enid and said, “Thought you wouldn’t be able to manage the Gran special fry-up this morning. This’ll go down easy. And don’t look like that, Lois. There’s more here for you.”

Enid took a few mouthfuls and then put down her fork. “Mrs M,” she said.

Lois looked up from her struggle with eggs whipped up with cream and butter. “Yeah?” she said. “Something wrong?”

Enid shook her head. “No, it’s just that I need to explain about what Father said last night. It came as a great surprise to me. He’d said nothing about it previously, not even hinted. Of course, I always went up to my room at Cathanger very early. Could have been asleep that night. And Edward told me just recently that he’d found ways of coming and going to Cathanger without me knowing…” She shivered, remembering Edward’s nightmarish trick, dressing up in Mother’s clothes.

“On our journey north, Father and Edward told me a cock-and-bull story about Mother being in a nursing home. I knew there was something wrong about it…I get this feeling, you know, with Edward. Almost like being in his head…But I could never imagine Father doing anything really bad…” Every sentence was an effort, and Enid’s voice was fading away.

“So d’you reckon he’s telling the truth?” said Lois bluntly.

Enid was silent. Then she said slowly, “He might be. It fits. I hadn’t seen Mother since the night of the flood. It was next day Father stopped me going into her room. If what he says is true, then that explains it.”

She was having difficulty continuing, and Lois waited, saying nothing. Finally Enid began again, “But Father changed after that. Nicer, more quiet. It’s an awful thing to think,” she added, words coming at a rush now, “but maybe, without her, he felt some relief. Oh dear, oh dear…” She buried her face in her hands.

Gran walked over to her, and held her steady. “Don’t think about it any more,” she said. “Take the day as it comes.” She turned to Lois and said sternly, “The truth’ll come out soon enough. Leave the poor woman alone now.”

It was difficult getting the kids off to school, but they left finally, Jamie still asking questions. At nine thirty precisely, the police arrived. Inspector Cowgill was formal but kind. He said he would talk to Enid and her father separately, and Derek went off to help Walter to get himself ready for the ordeal.

“This could take all morning,” whispered Lois, as he went.

“Don’t worry,” said Derek. “I’ve fixed it. I’ll be around while you need me.” He kissed her cheek lightly, and carried on upstairs.

D
awn had come up over a chilly Edinburgh. In the old town, one or two early risers had walked down echoing streets, pulling up their collars against the wind. In a silent flat, two floors up, Edward Abraham had opened his eyes with difficulty. Good God, what time was it? He had found himself still sitting in the chair, and remembered nothing about the past hours. And what was this rug doing over his knees? He had fought the impulse to close his eyes again, but given up. Enid’s treacherous pills were too strong for him, and he had drifted back into sleep.

When he next surfaced, he could hear sounds from outside that told him the morning had got going. His watch confirmed it, and he struggled to his feet. God, why was he so drowsy? He must have been sleeping for hours. And where was everybody?

“Enid!” Why hadn’t she woken him? “Enid!” Where on earth was she? He walked unsteadily through to the kitchen, and then into her bedroom. Empty. His father’s room was empty, too, and he panicked.

“
Enid
!”

How could they have gone? He felt in his pocket, and knew the key had been taken out. Oh, no…no, Enid wouldn’t desert him, surely…and Father, too, after all he’d done for him?

In Lawnmarket below, a police car drew up outside the National Trust for Scotland shop, and the engine was switched off. Two sober-faced policemen conferred, reminded each other that they were looking for a murderer, then got out and went through the passage into the courtyard behind.

Edward, thinking it might not be too late to catch up with Enid and Father, pulled on his coat and went towards the door. Halfway there, he heard knocking. It was loud, insistent. Then a voice: “Open up, Mr Abraham. Police. Open this door, please.”