Lois Meade 03: Weeping on Wednesday (1987) (12 page)

The chief remover remembered the village scandal causing the doctor to move away. “How do you know where they had the piano?” he said. “Andrew Rix was a doctor wasn’t he? Did you know them?”

“I used to clean for them,” replied Lois. “I thought everybody knew that.”

“Course you did. I remember now…and you helped them a lot in other ways, so I heard.”

Lois frowned. “There’s not much the network doesn’t know, is there?” she said. Derek hurriedly butted in. “Now then, lads,” he said. “What’re you going to have? Gran’s got some eats ready in the kitchen, and there’s every form of alcohol known to man. So come on, let’s get stuck in.”

Lois lingered behind. She lifted the lid of the piano and put her fingers on the keys. She wouldn’t play any notes, in case the kids heard, but in her head she could hear music, the piece that Mary Rix used to play when she was feeling happy. She had her troubles, but she sorted them out in the end. Perhaps Lois could do the same with Derek.

An hour or so later, when it was after midnight and Christmas Day had officially arrived, the men kissed Gran and Lois enthusiastically under the mistletoe and, leaving them clearing up in the kitchen, tiptoed with exaggerated stealth out into the night.

The last to go paused briefly in the hall. “Here, Derek,” he said. “Looks like a letter caught up in the door curtain.” He handed it over, and Derek forced himself to take it. He had glimpsed the handwriting, and recognized it.

A
nna, the au pair, had finally stopped crying, and Rosie Charrington heaved a sigh of relief. It was all so silly and unnecessary. They had said she could go home for Christmas, had aired the subject thoroughly weeks ago, and the girl had been insistent that she wanted to see an English Christmas. She’d obviously had snow and robins, carol singers and jingle-bells in mind. But at the farmhouse, surrounded by mud and raw weather, Christmas Day for Anna was clearly a sore disappointment. Added to that, her parents had telephoned early that morning, but the line had been so bad she could hardly hear them. She’d started crying then, and hadn’t really stopped until after the big family lunch.

“She’s spoiling it for the children, Sebastian,” whispered Rosie. “What more can we do?”

The sun was shining weakly over the sodden garden, and Sebastian had an idea. “Send her out for a walk,” he said. “She could take the dog, commune with nature in Cathanger woods, that sort of thing. Cheer her up no end. These Swedes are a gloomy lot.”

“She’s not Swed – ” But Sebastian had drifted off to sleep in the armchair once more. Rosie decided his idea was worth a try. She went up to Anna’s room and knocked on the door.

§

Anna picked her way in borrowed Wellingtons, dragged along by the Labrador impatient to reach the woods where he could be taken off the lead. What a dreadful day! She had now reached a philosophical state where, realizing things could get no worse, she was storing up details to relay the utter awfulness of it to her parents when she went home. When the dog, released at the edge of the wood, tore off after a rabbit and disappeared, she smiled. Things could get worse, after all. She plunged into the thicket, calling out fruitlessly for the dog to return.

At the other side of Cathanger wood, a tall, thin figure in a long black coat, shrouded in a thick scarf, crossed one of the rides and pushed through the undergrowth, shunning the footpaths and tracks where ramblers and locals walked in summer. Today he was more or less safe. Nobody in their right mind would attempt to penetrate the wood on Christmas Day. Water stood in deep puddles everywhere, and even the grassy dells, which looked dry, proved to be boggy and treacherous. Still, the air was fresh – extremely fresh – and he decided to turn back soon, just in case.

The wood was familiar to him, and he had just reached an open space where he planned to stop and retreat, when a large black dog came crashing out of the trees. He froze, and so did the dog. Seconds passed, and neither moved. Then the dog inched forward, lowering its body and flattening its ears. The man stayed absolutely still. Only when he heard a voice, a girl’s voice, calling loudly and getting nearer, did he move. Then he crouched down and said quietly, “Here, boy. Come on, here. That’s it, nothing to worry about. Here, there’s a good dog…”

The dog relaxed. It was a family dog, used to children, and nobody had ever been unkind to it. It moved slowly towards the man, and its tail began to wag imperceptibly. The man saw the signal of friendship, and brought his hand out of his pocket. He was holding something hard and bright, and when the dog was within reach, just as the girl emerged from the trees, he raised his arm and brought it down with such force that the dog was felled instantly. Then he moved towards the girl. But she was younger, fitter and very frightened. She turned and ran, screaming.

He almost caught up with her when she tripped over an exposed root, but she managed to regain her balance and pick up speed in time to leave him still a couple of yards behind her. Finally she drew ahead, and as the brightening light showed they were approaching the Bell’s Farm edge of the wood, the man stopped. It would be better to go back, get out of sight before the girl raised the alarm. As he passed the prone body of the dog, he bent down, then straightened up with difficulty and disappeared quickly into the dark interior of the wood.

§

Rosie filled the kettle and glanced out of the window to see if there was any sign of Anna. She should be back very soon, and Rosie prayed that the walk had been as therapeutic as Sebastian had predicted. Emotional au pairs were a frequent source of conversation between the more affluent young mothers, but Rosie considered Anna had topped the lot in creating such a disturbance on Christmas Day. It would be something to tell the others at the school gates!

She was turning away to prepare tea, when a movement at the edge of the wood caught her eye. Was it Anna? Rosie frowned. Whoever it was, the figure looked in trouble, stumbling and sliding about in the mud. Then she could see that it was indeed Anna, and she rushed out of the back door, into the garden and across the field at top speed, not bothering to grab a coat, but yelling as she went, “Seb! Come quickly! Anna’s hurt!”

It was several minutes before they could establish that Anna was not physically hurt, just exhausted and distressed beyond speech.

“Where’s Rick?” Sebastian had looked around for the dog, but he was nowhere.

“Never mind about him,” said Rosie.

“But he might be lost. It might be why she’s so upset,” said Sebastian practically.

At this, Anna’s hysteria reached a critical point, and Rosie amazed herself by slapping the girl firmly on the cheek.

“Mummy!” chorused the children, standing open-mouthed by the door.

“Hey, come on you two,” said Sebastian. “Mummy knows what she’s doing. Let us go and have a look around for Rick. Breath of fresh air will do us good.”

Suddenly Anna found her voice. “No,” she croaked urgently. “No, don’t take the children! I must speak with Rosie alone. But don’t take the children,
please!
”

Sebastian was now confused, but Rosie nodded at him. “Why don’t you all get the new game out and read the rules. Then we can play after tea, when Anna’s better.”

Left alone, Rosie led Anna to the sofa and pulled her down beside her. She put what she hoped was a motherly arm around the thin shoulders, and waited. The pitiful story came out in fits and starts, but was clear enough. By the time Anna had reached the point where the man finally abandoned the chase and disappeared, Rosie was thoroughly alarmed. “I think we must tell Sebastian,” she said quietly. Anna nodded, meek and quiet now.

“My God!” said Sebastian, called in by Rosie and now sitting on the floor in front of Anna. “Did you get sight of his face?”

Anna shook her head. “He was covered, except for his eyes. When he ran, I could hear him…er…panting. I don’t think he was very good. The little bit of face around the eyes was very…how do you say…pale?”

“Right,” said Sebastian, getting to his feet. “You telephone the police, Rosie, and I’ll go and find Rick. Don’t like to think of him out there…It’s getting dark now, and you never know, he might not be quite…well…you know…”

“He is,” said Anna flatly. “He is dead. But I think you should not touch him. The police should see him first, I think.”

Rosie blew her nose hard and nodded. “She’s right, Seb. Best not to touch him for the moment.” Then she left the room, and Sebastian could hear her choking back tears before she lifted the telephone and dialled the police.

He made a decision. He was a vet, after all, and he could not leave an animal possibly in pain. “I’m going to look for him,” he said, passing Rosie in the hall. “I won’t touch him, unless there’s something I can do for him. If there is, then bugger the police.”

§

Enid Abraham woke up and saw that it had grown dark. Christmas Day had not been a very festive affair. She’d done her best, cooking a chicken her father had killed, and heating up the pudding she’d bought from the shop. It was all good, and even the plates put outside her mother’s door were completely empty. Every bit of both courses had been eaten, and Enid had felt gratified.

“Why don’t you have a rest, Enid, after all that cooking,” her father had suggested, even proposing to do the washing-up.

“I shall fall asleep for sure,” said Enid.

“Good thing too,” said her father. “You’ve been looking tired lately, doing all that housework for other people.” She ignored the jibe, but agreed that a snooze would be quite a pleasant prospect. She’d gone up to her room and been asleep in minutes.

Now she could hear her father out in the yard, banging the chicken shed door and clattering pails in the barn. Time to get up, Enid, she told herself. There wasn’t much to get up for. Another dimly lit evening by a smouldering fire. The wind had got up, and moaned around the old mill. Perhaps I’ll just stay here in bed, she thought. At that, she stood up swiftly and began to tidy her hair. That was probably how Mother’s long retreat into reclusion had started. Giving in once to temptation, and then the next time things had been bad with Father and Edward, finding it easier to shut herself away again…and then for longer periods of time, until she reached her present hermit-like existence.

Enid went downstairs as her father came into the kitchen. “Ah, there you are,” he said. “Time for a surprise.” Her heart stopped. Surprises at the mill were always bad ones. What was Father up to?

Walter walked over to the cupboard where he kept his gun, unlocked it and opened the door. He reached inside and then turned around, a broad smile crossing his lined face. “Happy Christmas, Enid,” he said.

It was a small cake, iced, and with holly berries stuck into the top. She had seen them in the shop, but had thought them too expensive. She blinked. “My goodness, Father,” she said. “You’ve certainly been slaving over a hot stove while I was asleep!”

In the warmth of the shared joke they sat down at the table, and Enid poured tea and cut cake. “If only Mother would…” Enid’s voice tailed away as usual, and her father nodded.

“Maybe one day,” he said, and wiped his hands across his eyes.

N
ext morning, Rosie and Sebastian Charrington awoke to a specially clear, cold light that could mean only one thing. Snow. In the night, unexpectedly, snow had fallen heavily. The children rushed into their parents’ bedroom whooping with excitement, demanding that everybody must be up and dressed and outside before it all melted away.

Rosie surfaced with difficulty. It had been such a dreadful day yesterday, and for one blissful moment before properly awake, it had gone from her mind. But then, as she sat up to drink the cup of tea Sebastian brought, the whole appalling business rushed back.

Constable Keith Simpson had finally arrived, clearly resentful at being called out on Christmas Day. Anna, now more or less recovered, and beginning to feel quite important and the centre of attention, had led the way in the twilight into Cathanger wood, saying she remembered exactly where Rick had been done to death.

They had met Sebastian on the way, and he’d frowned at Anna. “Where did you say he was?” he’d asked her, and she had guided them to the clearing where she’d seen the blow falling on the unsuspecting dog’s head.

She was shivering again, and Constable Simpson had put his hand on her arm. “All right, gel?” he’d asked, and Sebastian had reluctantly taken her hand.

Then the embarrassment had begun. No dog, dead or alive. The clearing was quiet and empty. The soggy grass stretched away from them, undisturbed, and though they’d hunted around for a long time, thinking he might not have been quite dead but crawled away to die, as animals will, they had found nothing. In the end, they had returned to the house and Anna made a statement for the records. After profuse apologies for getting Keith Simpson out on such a day, they had made a great effort to return the family to normality, doing their best to ignore Anna’s frequent lapses into tears.

Now, pulling on some old clothes, Sebastian took the children away to get dressed. “We’ll get Anna up,” he said to Rosie. “She was keen to see snow at Christmas. And there’ll be some talking to do later,” he added grimly. Late the previous night, when he and Rosie had exhausted all the possibilities of what might have happened, he had been very definitely sceptical. “Made it all up, that’s what I reckon,” he’d said finally.

“But why?” Rosie had asked.

“I expect she just lost him, and was scared,” he’d replied. “Invented the whole thing, knowing we’d go and look and find nothing, but not thinking much beyond that. Perhaps she thought when we couldn’t find him, we’d just wait for him to come back. I don’t suppose she really cared much whether he did or not. She’s never seemed particularly fond of him.”

He was not a great fan of Anna, but kept quiet because she undoubtedly made life easier for Rosie. Up to now…Rosie did not agree with him, but had been too tired to argue. Now it was Boxing Day, and they were all due to go to the pantomime in Tresham this afternoon. She slid out of bed feeling unrested and depressed.