Fear on Friday (28 page)

Lois was speechless. She thought she was unshockable, but the sight of her old mum beating the cake mixture with a wooden spoon, coming out with all that, was too much. “Well, I don’t know, I’m sure,” she said, unaware that she was echoing her mother’s favourite phrase. “I think I need a coffee. D’you want one?”

“Tea for me, please,” Gran said demurely, scooping the mixture into a baking tin and shunting it into the oven. “Now, what else can I tell you about Daisy Forsyth?”

“That’s plenty to be going on with,” Lois said, filling the kettle. “So you reckon she’s led a colourful life?” she added, collecting her thoughts.

Gran nodded. “Though how she came to marry that old misery is a mystery. Old Rupert is a real grouch at home, and she’s a girl used to lots of fun … No wonder.”

Gran paused, and Lois said, “No wonder what?”

“No wonder she gets dressed up and disappears off up to London now and then,” Gran said.

“Does she do that?” Lois wondered how much more her mother was likely to dredge up from only a couple of conversations with Daisy. But then, of course, the WI was the swap-shop for gossip. Daisy did not have to be at the meeting for her life to be chewed over by the girls.

“Yep,” Gran said. “Rupert takes her to the station, but doesn’t wait to see her on to a train. Goes off with a face like thunder.”

Lois sat down heavily. “Mother,” she said. “Is there anything you
don’t
know about Daisy Forsyth?”

“Yes,” Gran said, looking straight at Lois. “I don’t know why you are so interested in her. And I don’t suppose you are going to tell me.”

“No, I’m not,” said Lois. She made for the door, anxious to consider all that she had heard.

Gran hadn’t finished yet. “Oh yes, and before he snuffed it, his late Worship’s car was seen parked outside Forsyths’ house once or twice. Stayed there quite a while, and those that saw it knew for sure Rupert wasn’t there. What d’you think, Lois?”

“J
OSIE
,” L
OIS SAID
. S
HE SAT IN
J
OSIE
‘
S LITTLE SITTING
room, sampling some disgusting new herb tea that Josie had got in specially for Mrs. Tollervey-Jones up at the Hall. “Ugh,” she said. “Don’t ask me to try any more of this.”

“Okay,” Josie said. “But what did you want to ask me? There was something?”

“Yes.” Lois hesitated. She didn’t much like questioning her much-loved daughter like this, but her session with Gran had been so fruitful, and she wouldn’t press Josie too hard. “I was wondering,” she said, and then stopped. “No, I’ll come straight to it. I need to know more about the
Forsyths. Daisy and Rupert, and Fergus too, if you’ve heard anything about him.”

“For Cowgill?” Josie said, as straightforward as her mother.

Lois nodded, and waited.

“Well, as you know, I hear a lot of stuff in here, and I decided right from the start that I wouldn’t gossip. Not pass on anything I heard in here in confidence.”

“Quite right too,” Lois nodded.

“But,” Josie added with a grin, “if I hear the old tabs gossiping away about stuff that’s general knowledge, then that’s different.”

“So?” Lois said.

“Well, this comes under that heading, I reckon. Daisy and Rupert started the Rain or Shine business, but most of their sales are by post. Tailed off a bit recently, after a bumper lot when the Mayor snuffed it. More people are quite open about it all. But not everyone, and Rupert still gets lots of orders by post. Oops!” she said. “Forget I said that.”

“Forgotten already,” Lois said.

“And anyway,” Josie continued, “their only son Fergus runs the shop, with his father in strict control.”

“And Daisy?”

“She’s a live wire! Not really cut out for village life, if you ask me.”

“You sound like Ivy Beasley,” Lois laughed. “What else?”

“Well, it was quiet in here one day, and she came in and started talking. I didn’t encourage her, because I had work to do. But she ignored my hints, and spilled out a lot of stuff about being a model, and making little films with other girls and blokes, all in the altogether, and getting up to all kinds of tricks. Enjoyed it, she said. It was a bit of a laugh. That’s her favourite phrase! She met Rupert in some dodgy bar, and was curious about him. He was certainly out of the usual run of customers. But then, she said, he
turned out to be a great surprise, and worth making a fuss of. Is that enough, Mum?”

Lois chortled. “She’s a great girl, our Daisy,” she said. “Who’d’ve thought it of old Rupert? No, there’s only one more thing, love. It is serious, of course, not just curiosity. Do you know of any connection between Daisy and Howard Jenkinson?”

“Oh, yes—he was one of her regulars, from years back. She was quite open about it. Said it made it difficult for her when the Jenkinsons moved to Farnden. Well, only Mrs. J moved in the end.”

“Nothing startling about Fergus?”

“A dark horse, I reckon. Never heard much about him, but he’s very much his mother’s boy, according to report. Now that’s it, Mum! How about another lovely cup of this gnat’s pee? No? Well, I’ll make us a nice, strong cup of Sergeant Major’s.”

M
ISS
B
EASLEY HAD SENT FOR
L
OIS
. I
T WAS A
R
OYAL
Command, and Lois would not dream of ignoring it. As she drove through the twisting lanes, she saw green fields stretching out as far as she could see, bordered by neatly cut hedges and spinneys of tall ash and beech. Circling black crows intimidated her with raucous cries as she accelerated up a steep hill where the overhanging branches made a dark tunnel. I wonder if I’d qualify as a country person now, she thought. Derek might. He spent hours in the garden, and had lately taken on an allotment to grow even more vegetables. Josie sold the surplus in the shop, and said customers had begun asking which were Derek’s. Lois knew she could not go back now and live on a housing estate. But after a morning in Tresham, trawling the charity shops and market stalls, she felt refreshed. A foot in both camps, she reckoned, and smiled. She knew one person who would not accept her as a country girl! Ivy Beasley, born and bred in Ringford, narrow-minded, bigoted and censorious. But, so Doris Ashbourne had confided to Lois, with a heart of gold.
“Hides it well,” Lois had said, and now approached Ivy’s front door with trepidation.

The door was opened by Ivy herself, walking with a stick. “Ha! That surprised you, didn’t it, Mrs. Meade,” she said. “Didn’t expect to see me up and about … well, come on in. Don’t stand there letting in the draughts.”

Would she offer Lois a cup of coffee? Not likely. Ivy sat down in her seat by the range, and with her stick motioned Lois to a kitchen chair that wobbled on the uneven floor. “What can I do for you, Miss Beasley?” Lois realised there was no point in pleasantries, such as asking how the old girl was, and how nice it was to see her on her feet.

“It’s your young Bill,” Ivy said. Lois could not believe Bill had put a foot wrong, and prepared to defend him. But Ivy said, “He’s a very good lad. Can’t say I gave him much of a chance when he first came, but he’s done a good job. And Doris’ll tell you I’m very particular.”

I don’t need telling, Lois said to herself. What was the old thing leading up to?

“I’ll come straight to the point,” Ivy said. “I’ve decided I’m too old to be doing all the work myself, and I’d like to keep him on permanently.”

Lois smiled in surprise. “Well, of course—”

“
But
“ said Ivy, “when I say ‘him,’ I mean Bill and nobody else. I don’t want no flibbertigibbets coming here and making more mess than they clear up. So what have you to say?”

Lois took a deep breath, forced another smile, and said, “That will be fine, Miss Beasley. I will make sure Bill comes to you regularly, and I’ll only send a substitute if he’s ill.”

Ivy Beasley shook her head. “No substitutes. If Bill is sick, I’ll do it myself. I doubt he’s sick very often, anyway.”

“Not once, in all the time he’s worked for me.”

“Mind you, I’d let him have time off for honeymoon.” Ivy Beasley was delighted to see the surprise on Lois’s face.

“What do you mean? Has he said something to you?” Lois couldn’t believe Bill wouldn’t tell her first.

“I never repeat what’s said to me, and others would do well to do the same.” Miss Beasley looked at the old clock on the mantelshelf. “I expect you’ve got other calls to make,” she said, and as Lois got to her feet, she added, “And if you want to know who pushed the Mayor into the fish pond, as I know you do, you’d better ask those Slaters. Never were any good. I knew his mother, and you couldn’t trust her with a sixpence.”

Lois was stunned. How could the housebound Miss Beasley possibly know she was after Howard Jenkinson’s killer? She shivered. There was something very creepy about the old woman and her cat curled up in her lap. Then she thought of Bill. But he would not have even hinted. She was quite sure of that.

What was it Doris Ashbourne said? Ivy Beasley had a sixth sense, and used to tell fortunes at the village fête? Oh my God, let me out of here. Lois was still muttering to herself as she got into her van. “Ken Slater’s mother. ‘Couldn’t trust her with a sixpence.’ Like mother, like son?”

She switched on Radio Five Live, and tried to immerse herself in the outside world, but Ivy Beasley’s words haunted her as she drove on to winkle out Susanna Jacob. She had to get a final word out of the girl before she advertised for someone else. What a morning! It had begun to rain, and Lois set her screen wipers going. Two sweeps, and a wiper flew off and disappeared. The curse of the Beasleys! she shouted aloud, and drove on very slowly, peering through a curtain of raindrops.

And what was all this about Bill’s honeymoon? Some questions to ask there.

Lois drew up outside the Jacobs’ house, and put on a stem face. At least she could assert her authority over Miss Susanna. She looked forward to it, and marched up the path with purposeful vigour.

•    •   •

S
USANNA WAS OUT
. “O
UT WHERE
?”
SAID
L
OIS SHARPLY
. Mrs. Jacob flushed. “She’s gone for a walk with the dog,” she said. “The doctor recommended a little walk, each day.”

“Huh!” Lois remembered this mythical doctor of the Jacobs, who was never consulted but gave advice that suited Susanna’s purposes. “Well, if it’s a little walk, I’ll wait,” she added. “I’ve got something very important to discuss with her.”

Mrs. Jacob opened the door wider with some reluctance, and Lois marched in. She refused an offer of coffee, and said she would be quite all right on her own, if Mrs. Jacob wished to get on with her work. But Mrs. Jacob wasn’t having that. She asked Lois to sit down, and perched on the edge of a chair on the opposite side of the room.

“Is it about the job?” she said nervously.

“It is a private matter,” Lois said firmly.

Mrs. Jacob looked even more nervous. “Can I help you at all?” she said. “In case Susanna has met someone and stayed for a chat.” Lois considered this, and decided that the girl had probably gone shopping in Tresham, or to a movie, and would not be returning until much later. She should probably leave at once, but did not move. Maybe a conversation with Mrs. Jacob would be useful.

“Would I be right in supposing you and your husband do not really like Susanna cleaning other people’s houses?” Lois was blunt, calculating that this might break down defences more quickly.

“Oh! Well, of course it’s up to Susanna but …”

“But what, Mrs. Jacob?”

“Well, in a way, you are right. Her father, particularly, considers it not suitable for a girl coming from a good background like hers. And she had a good job … promotion … at the Town Hall. Plenty of opportunities for getting to the top.”

“And getting into trouble,” Lois said, risking all.

The silence seemed to go on for ever. Mrs. Jacob passed a hand over her eyes wearily. “So you know about that,” she said. “I knew it would get out. We did our best to keep it secret, but villages are a hotbed of gossip. No chance, really.”

“It is none of my business, of course,” Lois said. “But if it affects how she performs her job, then I have a right to know. I’ll tell you straight, Mrs. Jacob, I don’t believe that Susanna has had flu. I don’t think she is out for a short walk. I’m sure she has been lying—not to put too fine a point on it—and for one reason. So she doesn’t have to work for Mrs. Jenkinson. Mrs. Jenkinson isn’t too keen, either. She doesn’t want Susanna anywhere near her. Now, this ain’t good for New Brooms, and I need to discuss it with Susanna. Not much future in her working for me, but I’m bound to give her a chance to talk about it.”

Another silence. Then Mrs. Jacob seemed to come to a decision. She began to talk in a different, more confident voice. “I see your point,” she said. “We have been very unfair to you, Mrs. Meade, and I hope you’ll excuse us. We are overprotective of our only daughter. I see that. Particularly her father. But we owe it to you to give you the facts.”

“Yes, you do,” said Lois, unrelenting.