Threats at Three (5 page)

“Plenty of room,” Doug said, as Lois and Derek climbed into the seven-seater, and with cries of delight for Harry’s benefit, they got under way.

T
HE MORNING HAD NOT STARTED SO WELL IN WHAT WAS STILL known as Pickerings’ house, though the Pickerings had sold to a mysterious single man who had turned out to be a sinister people trafficker. Needless to say, he had been sent to jail for a long stretch, and the house had been put on the market again. A spry village character had bought it in order to rent it out. He had a deal with the local Social Services Department who needed accommodation for the deserving homeless. One such family were the Hicksons, and they had moved in under the watchful eyes of the villagers.

The house was one of the many old ironstone buildings in the village, and in bright sunshine it glowed a warm dark gold. The end wall had been built with bands of limestone alternating with ironstone, and on an otherwise perfectly plain family house, the pattern of stripes was a glimpse of a long-gone village builder’s unexpected flight of fancy.

Inside the thick walls, it was warm and welcoming, and when Paula Hickson had first seen it, she couldn’t believe her luck. Her husband, Jack, had walked out after the fourth boy had been born, saying he couldn’t stand the racket, and she had no idea where he had gone. In a way, she knew they were better off without him, as any money coming in had, since Jack lost his job, gone out again rapidly to be spent on booze, and when he boozed he was violent.

The house had four bedrooms and a decent bathroom, and downstairs a couple of big rooms and a largish kitchen. Paula was able to furnish the sitting room with stuff provided by Social Services, which was adequate, though she sometimes thought it looked a bit like a junk shop. Still, she told herself, beggars can’t be choosers. She would not forget in a hurry the bailiff’s visit to their old home.

She decided the other main room, a dining room in the old days probably, would make a good playroom for the boys. A playroom! It was like a dream to a woman who had been living in two small rooms, one of which was a curtained-off bedroom for herself and the boys. Jack Jr. was now thirteen and at Tresham comprehensive. He needed private space for homework, if and when he got round to it, and now he could have one big bedroom to himself. The other two spares, much smaller, were for eight-year-old twins Jim and David, in the hope that separating them for sleep would give them all a bit of peace. Nine-month-old Frankie still slept in a cot alongside his mother.

The morning had started badly because on going to wake Jack, Paula found he was not in his bedroom and had clearly not slept in his bed. This was the second time he had stayed out somewhere all night, and Paula groaned. He had promised that if she had gone to bed, he would let himself in, and it would not be too late. The previous time this had happened he had said airily that he’d slept over with his mate in Tresham. “Missed the last bus,” he had said, and added that if they had to live in a godforsaken village in the middle of nowhere with only two buses a week, what was he to do?

“You could let me know! That’s what you could do!” Paula had shouted at him. “Ever heard of the phone?” she had added, and then regretted it, because she could not possibly afford for him to have his own mobile.

Now she gave the others their breakfasts, and prepared to send the twins off to a school friend’s house for the morning with stern warnings that they were to go straight there and not dillydally on the way. Thank God they had taken to the village school like a pair of ducklings to water. No complaints from them. In a small class with a cheerful young woman teacher, they had blossomed from their first day. They were identical twins, and Rebecca Stockbridge confessed they were a challenge in her class, but one she intended to enjoy.

Paula sighed. She hoped that Jack Jr. had slept sensibly in his friend’s house in Tresham, and she would see him arrive home on the afternoon bus. She had little confidence in this scenario, and thought it much more likely that her firstborn would be wandering round the streets of Tresham, hood concealing his face, until he managed to thumb a lift back to the village.

She stood at the gate, waiting until the twins were safely on their way, and her eye was caught by the sight of Douglas’s vehicle moving slowly down the village street. As it passed her, she could see it was full of happy smiling faces, and one or two waved to her. She recognized Josie Meade from the shop, who had been really helpful to her since she arrived. Must be her family, Paula supposed, and felt a stab of envy at their obvious togetherness. Then she shifted the baby to be more comfortable on her hip, and turned to go indoors. “No good feeling sorry for yourself, Paula Hickson,” she said aloud, and the baby smiled at her. Things could be a lot worse.

 

 

BY THE TIME DOUGLAS HAD TAKEN A COUPLE OF WRONG TURNS in the outskirts of Leicester, and had shut his ears to all the varying instructions from his passengers, little Harry was asleep and Derek was desperate for a pee. Finally they pulled into the big car park, and as they looked out of the windows an awed silence fell. A bulging silver balloonlike structure stretched up into the sky, dwarfing the crowds of families making for the entrance.

“Look at that!” Douglas said. “Hey, Susie, wake up Harry so’s he can see it.”

“Not a good idea,” Lois said quickly. “You know how fractious he is when he’s woken up. Let’s all get out first, and then we can unload him straight into his pushchair and get going. That’ll take his attention and we won’t get the usual screams.”

Susie frowned. Sometimes she wished her mother-in-law wasn’t quite so ready with the voice of experience. Harry was hers and Douglas’s, and they were best at managing him. But she bit back a sharp rejoinder and heaved the pushchair out of the boot space. She saw Matthew Vickers approaching, and said, “Nice to see you. Always useful to have a policeman in the party.”

“Off duty, I’m afraid,” he said, and grinned at Josie. They all set off across the almost full car park towards the main entrance, and as they got closer, Lois began to feel oddly apprehensive. Inside the reception area children and parents and grannies and granddads milled about. She stood still to get her bearings and saw a snack café off to the side. Suggesting that they have a snack lunch before everyone else converged there, she led the way.

With only one cashier, it took a while to get settled, and Lois had a chance to look around. The low lighting in the wide reception area heightened the feeling she already had on glimpsing vast models of distant planets of being in an alien environment, and she was glad when they sat down with their trays in the sunlit café, though another near-panic hit her when she caught sight of what looked like large upturned buckets hanging down from high above the chattering families.

“Derek! Isn’t that where the great fire that launches the rockets comes from?” she said nervously. She realised they were now inside the silver balloon, and she could see that this housed two huge rockets stretching up above them. A sudden memory of the Challenger that crashed back to earth killing all inside, including a lovely young woman, jolted her.

“Yep, that’s what gets ’em up into space. Want me to put a match to them?” He laughed at her, and patted her shoulder. “We’re quite safe, gel,” he said.

Meanwhile Matthew and Josie seemed oblivious to anything but themselves, seated as they were at a cozy table for two. The others had grouped together, with a high chair for young Harry, and then made short work of sandwiches and coffee, anxious to get going.

As they filed through the paying booths, Lois suddenly saw ahead of them a man going through the turnstiles and was sure he was familiar. When he turned to talk to a woman she recognized as Kate Adstone, she was sure it was Gavin. Following them, and clearly part of their party, came a tall, portly man with thinning ginger hair and a boozer’s nose, bright red to match the rest of his complexion. Lois and the others were still waiting in the queue for tickets when the Adstones and friend disappeared from sight.

“Did you see him?” she said to Derek.

“Who?”

“Gavin Adstone. You know, from Farnden. On your SOS committee.”

Derek shook his head. “Nope. Still, it could’ve been him. We might bump into him as we go round. His toddler’s a bit young for this, I’d have thought.”

“Older than our Harry,” Lois replied.

“Get on, then,” Derek said. “You’re holding up the queue.”

 

 

“NO POINT IN OUR TRYING TO STAY TOGETHER,” DOUGLAS decided, as Susie said Harry needed a nappy change, and Matthew and Josie elected to start with the lift to the top of the rocket tower. “Let’s say we’ll all meet in the shop when we’ve seen everything. O’ course, I expect we’ll bump into each other going round,” he added, and Lois whispered to Derek that they might well get another look at Gavin Adstone and his funny-looking friend.

“Lois!” Derek said sternly. “Forget it! Why shouldn’t the man be here with a friend? Nothing suspicious, no ferretin’ needed! For God’s sake, woman, forget all that rubbish and enjoy a family day out.” He marched off towards the planets and disappeared from sight into space. She hurried after him, and found him staring incredulously at a row of Heinz baked bean tins.

A couple of schoolboys were also intrigued by this unexpected earthbound display of tins, and began to lift them up, one by one. Derek was now reading the text above, and turned to Lois. “Gravity, Lois,” he said authoritatively. “Shows you the different pulls of gravity on different planets. Have a go.”

“Try the sun,” the biggest boy said, grinning at the other.

Lois shrugged. Blimey, anybody could lift a baked bean tin. But when she tried, she couldn’t move it, and the boys chortled. Then she moved on to others, and felt distinctly different pulls, as if invisible hands of varying strengths were holding on, determined not to let her run away with the valuable exhibits.

“Does that mean if we landed on one of them with not much gravity we’d fall off into nowhere?” she asked the boys. She trusted them rather than Derek to know the answer. But they had turned away and were heading for the weather forecast.

“Oh, look, Derek,” Lois said. “Over there, where the boys have gone. That sort of cabin thing. Something to do with the weather satellite. See, there’s a television screen inside. Let’s go and look.”

A small group of people had gathered, and Lois saw with interest that Gavin’s party were amongst them. The two boys had gone into the booth, and were staring at the screen and giggling. Lois edged her way forwards so that she could see what was going on, and saw the bigger of the two boys pressing a button and a weather map coming up. Then text appeared on the screen and the boy began to read, looking alarmed but ploughing on, using his hand as a pointer to indicate locations on screen.

“He’s pretty good at it, Mrs. Meade,” said a voice behind her, and she turned to see Gavin Adstone looking down at her.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, including Kate and Cecilia in a warm smile. “We Meades are here in strength,” she added, as if Gavin had threatened her with abduction. Why did she feel so uneasy? “And is this another member of your family?” she asked him, seeing that he showed no signs of making an introduction to the ginger-haired man.

“Good God, no,” the man said. “No relation. Just good friends,” he added and laughed.

“This is Tim Froot,” Gavin said shortly. “A Tresham business associate.”

Froot obviously thought that sounded a little abrupt, and added that his building company head office was in Holland. “But I spend most of my time in Tresham,” he explained. “My Amsterdam office runs itself, and as there is much work to be done in the UK, I prefer to be here. Now, we had better be getting on,” he added to Gavin. “No peace for the wicked!” This last was directed at Lois, along with a knowing smile.

“Speaks very good English, for a Dutchman,” said Derek, and then in spite of Lois’s mocking laugh, he stepped inside the now vacant cabin and began pressing buttons.

 

 

MATTHEW AND JOSIE HAD FIRST GONE UP A FLIGHT OF STAIRS and on to a gallery, which led to the rocket lift. Halfway along, they stopped to stare at what they read to be an actual Soyuz spacecraft, found in a Russian car park. It looked used, secondhand, and Josie said she felt a bit sorry for it. “Looks a bit like it was made of Meccano,” she said sadly. “Got left behind.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Cheer up,” he said. “Come on, let’s go. Space awaits us!” He was feeling a little light-headed, something to do with a combination of Josie’s hand in his, and the undeniable atmosphere of excitement that pervaded the whole place.

Fathers and sons were playing games based on magnetic attraction, and Josie said, “Why does that dad always win? He could lose for once. Give the boy a chance.”

Matthew looked at her seriously. “Any son of mine would probably win anyway,” he said. She was about to answer that it would depend on whose genes the child inherited, when her eye was caught by a familiar figure. “Hey, that’s that new bloke from Farnden,” she said. “Comes in the shop occasionally, and has his groceries delivered from Tesco.”