Tragedy at Two (2 page)

DEREK PUT ON THE LIGHTS IN THE SITTING ROOM AND LOOKED at Lois. “I don’t suppose you want
me
here,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Shall I put the kettle on?”

“No,” Lois said firmly. “This won’t take long.”

Cowgill nodded. “I’ll be as brief as possible,” he said, and waited until Derek had gone out and shut the door behind him.

“Sorry about this,” he began, but Lois interrupted him.

“Cut the apologies,” she said. “What d’you want? It had better be important.”

“It is. Your daughter Josie’s partner has been found badly beaten up in a ditch on the way to Waltonby. He’s been taken into Tresham General, and Josie is with him. I promised her I would tell you straightaway.”

“Rob? Beaten up? Oh, dear God, no! What on earth was he doing out there at this time of night?”

“Seems he could have been there a while. A passing motorist spotted him and alerted us. Are you all right, Lois?” he added. She was very pale, and did not look too steady to him. He got up and called through to the kitchen. “Derek! I think we need that kettle on after all.”

“I want Derek in here. Without the tea,” said Lois, shaking herself.

Cowgill went over the facts again, and saw that Lois had taken Derek’s hand for reassurance. “It is up to you both whether you want to go to the hospital straightaway,” he said. “Josie looked shattered, of course. She might be glad of some support.”

“Is his life in danger?” Derek asked. Rob was not his favourite person, but he’d been Josie’s partner for some time and Derek respected that. He had noticed that the relationship had cooled off lately, partly because Cowgill’s nephew Matthew Vickers, also a policeman and lately transferred to the Tresham force, had shown considerable interest in Josie. Derek was not blind. He could see the way the wind was blowing.

“I couldn’t tell you how seriously he is hurt, I’m afraid,” Cowgill answered. “No doubt Josie has been told.”

“Of course we’ll go in to the General,” Lois said. “Good job we’d only just gone up. Have you any idea who could’ve attacked Rob?” she asked Cowgill. He shook his head. “Not yet,” he said.

“Rob’s a bit of a wimp,” said Derek carefully. “Not so good at defending himself, I’d say.”

“Oh, come on, Derek,” Lois said. “Let’s get going. Your van or mine?”

 

 

JOSIE WAS SITTING IN A HUDDLE BY THE HOSPITAL BED, WHERE Rob lay unmoving, with monitoring equipment pipping away beside him. She looked up as she heard her parents approach, and Lois’s heart lurched. “Oh, Josie,” she whispered, and put her arms around her, “It’s all right, duckie,” she said, “Mum’s here.”

“And Dad,” Derek said, putting his hand on Josie’s shoulder. A nurse brought up two chairs for them, and they sat down. For some time they sat without speaking, holding hands. Lois had not looked at Rob’s face, but now steeled herself and glanced over at the bed. His eyes were swollen and bruised, and the rest of his face was like a piece of raw steak.

“The bastards,” Derek whispered. He leaned across to Josie, who was now sitting up straight and staring fixedly at Rob. “Don’t worry, me duck,” he said. “We’ll get ’em.”

Now the nurse returned and beckoned to Josie, who disappeared with her into the corridor. Lois looked at Derek with raised eyebrows. He shook his head and shrugged. Rob didn’t look at all good to him, but with all that bruising and swelling it was difficult to guess how bad he was in himself.

Josie reappeared and sat down again. She looked at Lois and her chin quivered. “He’s got a chance,” she said quietly. “That’s all they can say at the moment.” Then a tear ran down her cheek unchecked. “It’s all my fault,” she blurted out, and the dam burst.

 

 

IT WAS GETTING LIGHT BY THE TIME LOIS AND DEREK LEFT THE hospital. Lois had not wanted to go, but the nurse had assured her they would look after Josie. She had said there was no point in them losing sleep when they had to work the next day. “Or I should say today,” she said with a smile. “You’ll be able to get three or four hours in if you go straightaway,” she had said firmly, and now they were on the way back to Long Farnden.

“What did she mean, it was all her fault?” Lois asked.

Derek shook his head. “Search me,” he said. “The only thing I can think is that they had a row and Rob stormed out.”

“And got into a punch-up with a gang for no reason at all? Not very likely, is it? As you so tactfully put it, Rob is a bit of a wimp. He’s a mild chap and wouldn’t pick a quarrel with anybody, let alone a marauding gang.”

“Could’ve been just one drunk on his way home. Big bloke, took offence at nothing, like they do. Rob didn’t stand a chance. That’s my best guess.”

Lois opened the door wearily and found Gran in her dressing gown sitting at the kitchen table, head on her hands, fast asleep.

“Sshh!” Lois whispered to Derek, but Gran was waking up.

“There you are, then,” she said. “Tell me the worst.”

“All I’m telling you at the moment is that Rob’s got a good chance, and is in good hands.”

“Thank God.” Gran struggled to her feet and reached automatically for the kettle. “You two get off up to bed and I’ll bring you a cup of that calming rubbish Josie sells in the shop. She swears by it, but I bet it’d take more than tea that smells of cats’ pee to calm her right now.”

But by the time Gran had boiled the kettle on the Rayburn and taken up the tea, Lois and Derek were asleep, arms around each other. Gran felt her eyes prickle, and went sadly to her own bed. She looked at her photograph of Lois’s dad and wished more than usual that he was still alive.

THE PUB IN LONG FARNDEN HAD RECENTLY BEEN GIVEN A major makeover, which included renaming it. Most of the locals were dead against it, and sent a petition to the brewery asking for the original name to be kept. They might just as well have appealed to the man in the moon, said Derek, who had been a prime mover in all this.

“It’s not enough that we have to sit on silly little wimmin’s chairs,” he’d said. “Now a new sign goes up without our say-so, callin’ it the Toad and the Washerwoman! What’s that got to do with anything in Farnden? And this new landlord’s useless.”

Now he had only one worry on his mind, and looked morosely at the empty glass in his hand. He had been sitting there for an hour or so, gaining comfort from his friends. Gran had not argued for once when he said he’d have a pie and a pint to save her cooking lunch.

The new vicar, having said all the right things to Derek, got to his feet and left. The regulars ignored him. New landlord at the pub, new vicar in the church, it was all too much for them. Not that they were likely to be too bothered about the new vicar, except that he was one of those who drop in to the pub for a half of cider now and then, and so crossed their paths.

“Recruiting, they say,” said Sam Stratford, husband of one of Lois’s cleaners. Sheila had been with New Brooms for a long time, and Sam had more or less retired from farmwork.

“Wasting his time, then,” Derek said, looking at his watch. The new imitation old clock on the wall chimed a tinny two o’clock. At this point the door opened and a couple of dark strangers came in. Silence fell, and all heads turned. One of the two men was young, the other in his forties. They were tidy-looking, but different. More colourful, somehow, thought Derek. And watchful.

Sam leaned across to whisper in Derek’s ear. “Tinkers,” he said, not too quietly, and others around the table turned back to their drinks and nodded. Conversation gradually resumed, but nobody spoke to the two newcomers.

“Foreigners, maybe,” Derek answered. “Can’t understand a word they’re saying.”

Sam shook his head. “Gyppos. Probably down on Alf Smith’s land. You know—they come every year. Romany speaking. Serves them right if they get treated rough. When in Rome do what Rome does, as my Sheila says. O’ course,” he added, “they might come from Rome, if y’ know what I mean. They’d still be foreigners.”

“They’d be Italians, wouldn’t they?” Derek said. They gave up, and an apprehensive silence fell as the older of the two men came over to the locals’ table.

“G’day,” he said in a deep voice. “D’you know of any work goin’ round here?”

Derek and the others looked at each other. Finally Derek said, “What kind of work?”

“Anything, we can do anything. We’re not afraid of hard work.”

“Not what I’ve heard,” muttered Sam under his breath.

Derek saw the man’s hands clench into fists, and answered swiftly. “I reckon there’ll be some work on Thornbull’s farm soon. If we ever see the sun again, that is. The rain’s holding them up somethin’ shockin’.”

The man asked where the farm was, and Derek gave him directions. “You stand a good chance there,” he said. “The Poles and them don’t come over as much as they used to do. Get better wages at home, they reckon.”

“Where’re you from, mate?” Sam said.

“Up the road,” the man said.

“Campin’ on Alf Smith’s land, are you?” Sam’s voice was hostile.

“Yeah, but we’ll be moving on to Appleby.”

“Sooner the better,” said Sam, getting up to go. “A bit stuffy in here,” he said, turning to his friends. “See ya, boy,” he grunted to Derek, and without looking at either of the strangers, he stalked out.

“He’s not feeling too well,” Derek answered in as loud a voice as he could manage. The message had been only too clear, as he could see from the gypsies’ faces.

The conversation at the table resumed, but this time on a hot village topic. “How’s Rob, then?” one of the locals said. Derek shook his head. “Dunno,” he said. “Josie’s still keeping vigil, poor gel, and Lois has gone to sit with her. I’m excused, as Lois says I can’t sit still for five minutes an’ am not much use, anyway.”

“Is he conscious yet?” one of the others said. They all knew Josie from the shop, and were genuinely sorry as well as curious. “Can he tell them anything about who attacked him?”

Once again Derek shook his head. “Don’t know” he said. “He was still out for the count, last I heard. I’ll know more when Lois gets home.” He looked at his watch and drained his glass. “Better be going,” he said.

“Watch y’ back, boy!” chorused his friends.

 

 

LOIS DID NOT LEAVE THE HOSPITAL UNTIL LATE EVENING, AND now, nearly home, slowed down at the thirty limit sign. She was in very low spirits. There had been no change in Rob’s condition, and Josie had looked half dead herself. The nurse had promised to insist that Josie have some sleep in a side room, and Lois had left the hospital reluctantly. She was worried about Rob, of course, but her main concern was Josie. She had mentioned to her that between them she and Gran were keeping the shop going, but Josie had hardly seemed to listen. The only thing she repeated in the hours that Lois was with her was that it was all her fault.

The lights of the van picked up a moving shape, and Lois braked hard. It was a dog, and it vanished through the hedge into the field where Lois knew there were gypsies. She could see dim lights coming from the caravans, and wondered if she should go and make sure the dog was not hurt.

She drew into a gateway and stopped the engine. It was muddy as she got out, and she cursed. Before she got to the caravans, a tall man came towards her, silhouetted against the moonlit sky.

“What d’ya want?” he said.

She could see he had a dog on a leash. It was growling and showing its teeth.

Lois explained, and the man shook his head. “It’d be the whippet,” he said. “Fast as the wind. That’d be all right. You on yer own?” He sounded concerned as he asked the question, and Lois answered quickly that she was on her way home and her husband would be expecting her. She was later than planned, she explained. Then she wondered if saying that was a good idea. Either he was suspicious of intruders, or he was planning to kidnap her and sell her into white slavery.

The man put out his hand. “D’you want to come over and see the lady who owns the whippet?”

He turned away and set off before Lois had a chance to answer. She hesitated, and then followed.