Lois Meade 01: Murder on Monday (EN, 2002) (23 page)

∗

Had Gillian been at the Open Minds meeting that night? Lois knew she was a member, and if she’d been there it would certainly knock her off the suspect list. Keith Simpson would know. Perhaps she should give him a ring anyway. She should keep him sweet, if only to make use of him. What could she tell him as a reason for ringing? She didn’t want to set him onto Gillian until she had found out much more about her. Well, she would think of something.

In the end it was easy. “Hello, Lois,” he said. “Nice to hear from you. Need some help?”

“I’m not sure I’ve got that Open Minds meeting quite straight,” she said. “Who was there and who wasn’t. Nurse Surfleet, for instance?”

“Rachel Barratt was, definitely,” he said, after a small pause. “And Mary Rix. But not Nurse Surfleet. She was on duty, apparently. I remember that distinctly, because she was annoyed that the old woman she went to see in Ringford was fast asleep in her chair and wouldn’t let her in. Could see her through the window, Gillian said, but couldn’t wake her up. What a job, eh, Lois? Still, I suppose it’s like ours in a way, dealing with people in trouble. Anyway, is that a help?” Keith had his instructions, and was following them to the letter.

Lois thanked him and took up her pen again, adding Nurse Surfleet to the short list of suspects. Doctor, nurse, businessman, vicar and professor. Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich man, poor man, beggarman, thief…murderer. This Long Farnden group were important people in the village and all with a lot to lose. If Derek was right, Gloria Hathaway had been trouble, a dangerous person to know. Once in her clutches, he’d said, it’d be hell to break away.

“You managed it,” she’d said acidly.

“I could see the way the wind was blowing,” he had replied bluntly. “Easy for me. I didn’t care tuppence about her. It was just – ”

“I can just imagine what it was,” said Lois, and she had shut him up then. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about, but now she needed to know more, and Derek could tell her. She glanced at the clock. Time to check on Josie. She closed her notebook with a snap.

P
eter White drove through Tresham and out on the Ringford road. He was sure Lois had said this was the way. He had never before had any reason to visit the Churchill Estate, but now he could not wait until tomorrow, when it was his Lois day. He had to talk to her now, before he drove himself mad in his quiet, chilly vicarage. He was not sure how much she knew about Long Farnden, but suspected her perambulations round the village had given her considerable insight into what was going on. It had come to him suddenly – as he was shaving – that Lois could be very vulnerable, in danger, even. She might know too much. He’d known what was going on long before Gloria Hathaway had been murdered and was well aware that he should try to put a stop to it. But how could he, implicated as he was himself? He knew that the old-time Farnden inhabitants looked on with contempt at the newcomers, and that included him.

The ringleader had been Malcolm Barratt, of course. It had all been cooked up in the pub one night when they’d had too many pints. They all drank pints, of course. They were country people now, and country people drank pints of warm, flat beer and played darts and dominoes. They’d ousted old Fred from his time-honoured position as captain of the dominoes, and organized tournaments with pubs from other villages, where similar teams of newcomers had taken over the best seats by the fire and put computer-generated notices on the notice-board exhorting everyone to join this and that, take part in quizzes which the old guard despised, could never answer the questions and saw no reason why they should. Yes, Malcolm Barratt and Dallas Baer had been the ringleaders, bounding into the village like overgrown Tiggers, without biding their time or waiting to take their natural places in the hierarchy of village life.

Peter White slowed down and wound down his window. “Excuse me,” he called to a middle-aged woman walking on the opposite side of the road. “Can you direct me to the Churchill Estate?”

Lois’s mother looked at the parson in his rusty old car and wondered what he wanted with the Churchill. “You’re practically in it,” she said. “Turn right over there and that’s it. What road did you want?”

“Byron Way…a Mrs Meade.”

“Ah,” said Lois’s mother, her face bland.

She did not believe in giving anything away for free. “Second on the left, then turn right. You can’t miss it.”

As Peter White drove off, she wondered what on earth the parson wanted with Lois. Then she remembered. Lois cleaned for a Reverend in Long Farnden. Probably him. Weedy-looking specimen, she considered. She wondered if his visit had anything to do with her daughter’s marital problems, but dismissed that thought at once.

∗

Lois poured steaming water on to a lemony cold cure and took the mug carefully upstairs. “Josie? Are you awake? I’ve brought you a drink, love. It’ll do you good.” She pushed open the door and walked in.

Josie was on fire. Her face was scarlet and every limb trembled to Lois’s touch. Her hair was wet with perspiration and her nightdress clung to her body as if she’d just emerged from a bath. Her eyes were half-open and she mumbled something which Lois could not catch.

“Oh my God!” Lois rushed to the bathroom for the thermometer, but could not get Josie to put it in her mouth. Well, for God’s sake, she didn’t need a thermometer to tell her Josie had a very high fever! She rushed downstairs, and was about to lift the telephone receiver when the doorbell rang. She pulled open the door, saw Peter White standing there, and without querying this unusual visitor, dragged him into the house.

“Quick,” she said, “help me wrap her up and then you can drive us to the hospital.”

His mouth dropped open. “But, Lois…”

“But nothing,” she said. “Don’t argue. Just do what I tell you and I’ll explain later.”

They bundled Josie into a warm blanket and manhandled her downstairs and out into Peter White’s car. The trembling was worse, and her eyes seemed to have rolled up into her head.

“Quicker, for God’s sake,” said Lois.

“Shouldn’t we have waited for an ambulance?” he said tentatively.

“You could wait for ever,” Lois said. “She could be dead by the time they arrived.” This abrupt statement galvanised Peter White. He put his foot down as hard as it would go and shot lights that were turning to red. They swung round corners, narrowly missed cyclists and frightened an old dog ambling along the curb. “Hold tight,” Peter White said, as the hospital finally came into sight.

Another set of lights were turning red and Lois had a quick look from left to right. “Nothing coming,” she said, and they shot over the crossing into the hospital entrance.

By now, Josie was limp in Lois’s arms, and it took all Peter White’s best efforts to help them into reception. A nurse looked expertly at Josie and to Lois’s huge relief, took over.

Peter White stood quietly, his face anxious, but he had Lois’s hand in a firm grasp. He was still there three hours later, when Josie’s face, now as white as the sheets covering her, was at rest on the pillows.

“Is she…?” Lois’s voice trembled uncontrollably.

“She’ll be fine, Mrs Meade,” said the sister. “It’ll take a while. A very nasty infection. But you got her here in time and with rest and antibiotics she’ll be fine. She’s young and that’s a big advantage in itself!”

Pneumonia, the young Indian doctor had said. He had been so gentle and kind, and when Lois had finally collapsed and couldn’t stop crying, he’d whispered to Peter White that he should stay and look after her.

“Are you Mr Meade?” the doctor had asked and the vicar had shaken his head vigorously.

“No, no, just a friend.” He had felt ridiculously pleased to be mistaken for Lois’s husband. And Josie’s father. He had a sudden vision of what he had missed. “I’ll just go and get us a cup of tea, Lois,” he said. “If you’ll be OK by yourself for a minute or two?” He felt strong and responsible for something that really mattered. When he returned with mugs of tea, he saw a man standing by the bed, close to Josie.

“Thanks a lot, Vicar,” said Lois, standing up. “This is my husband, Derek. They got hold of him and he came straight over.” She was whispering and he noticed her hand now clutching Derek’s.

“Oh, right,” Peter White said. “You’ll be all right now, then. Not need me any more?” They shook their heads kindly at him.

“Thanks a lot,” whispered Lois. “I don’t know what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t…well, you know…”

“Oh no,” said Peter White. “It was just lucky…Well, I’ll be off now. Let me know if…well, you’ve got Derek now, and I’m sure…”

He backed away from the still figure asleep in the bed, her parents watching over her. As he walked away down the long corridor and out to his car, loneliness, his old enemy, gripped his heart. Self-pity, he told himself. That’s all it is. You could do something about it. Not too late to find a wife and make a real home. He sighed, and drove out of the hospital car park. It was not until he was driving into Farnden that he remembered the urgent warning he’d set out to deliver to Lois, and wondered if she would be at work tomorrow. Very unlikely, he thought, and planned to call her in the morning if she didn’t turn up.

∗

As Peter White had expected, Lois did not come to work. He had every reason to speak to her and ask after Josie, so soon after breakfast he made the call. She answered at once, as if she had been standing by the telephone.

“Oh hello,” she said. “I thought it might be the hospital. They sent me home to get some sleep, but I can’t. I just can’t help worrying about her and – ”

“Lois, listen to me,” said Peter White, a new authority in his voice. “It doesn’t matter a bit if you can’t sleep. Just relax – watch the telly – any old rubbish will do. You can catch up on sleep later. And now, if you don’t mind, I’m coming over to see you. It’ll help to talk to someone, and anyway, I do have something important to tell you. Is that OK, my dear? I shan’t stay long.”

To his relief, she agreed listlessly, saying that she had to go back to the hospital shortly, but would wait for him to come over. “I’ve got this feeling that if I’m not there, she’ll wake up and really need me. You know…”

∗

Both she and Derek had come home in the early hours, and neither wanted to go to bed. They had sat without speaking for a while and then Derek had asked what exactly had happened. She told him about the vicar and Derek wondered why the doctor had never turned up. Then, Lois had broken down again and confessed that she hadn’t ever sent for him.

“I wanted to wait and see if she got better after a sleep. You know how kids do.”

Derek had accepted this, but Lois knew that the truth was something different. She’d been so full of her new discoveries about Nurse Surfleet and Gloria that she’d all but forgotten her sick daughter upstairs. And then that call to Keith. She’d laughed in triumph as she got what she wanted from him. Laughed! And Josie upstairs getting sicker and sicker! Lois had flushed with shame and Derek had put his hand on her forehead.

“Now, Lois, we don’t want you coming down with the bug. Off to bed now,” he had urged. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

∗

Now here was Peter White, worried and pale, sitting in her best armchair, asking about treatment and visiting times and breaking into her endless thoughts of self-blame and condemnation.

“Sorry, what did you say?” He was looking at her closely, as if wanting an answer to some question he had asked.

“Don’t worry, Lois,” he said. “It’s just that I thought I should warn you to be careful. In Farnden, you know. With the other people you clean for. Epecially the Barratts,” he added, ploughing on, though he was not sure that Lois was listening.

“Barratts? Why…what do you mean?” Lois’s eyes had focused on him now, and he had her attention.

“Well, to do with the murder, really,” he said. “There was something not very nice going on in the village. I knew about it, of course. But I considered it none of my business.” May God forgive me, he thought. “I felt sorry for their wives, of course, but you know what they say: Never come between man and wife.” He tried a small smile, but met no reciprocal one from Lois.

“What exactly are you saying, Reverend White?” said Lois. She was sitting up straight now.

“It was mostly Malcolm Barratt and Dallas Baer,” he said. “They were at the root of it. Some book they’d read about couples in America – yes, that was it,
Couples
, that was the book. Swapping, you know. And poor little Gloria…At least, that’s how it started. But now, what with Gloria’s untimely death, they’re very anxious to hush it all up.”

“And me? Why is it dangerous for me?” said Lois, completely alert.

“Because you have the opportunity to…well, not to put too fine a point on it, snoop, my dear. Not that you would, of course,” he added hastily. “But I believe you should be careful. Very careful. Somebody killed Gloria Hathaway and in my view it was not unconnected with what I’ve just told you. And that somebody may be capable of further violence.” Had he gone too far? He didn’t think so. “There’s no need for you to worry any more about it. You have quite enough to think about now. Just be careful, that’s all.” He stood up, and patted her shoulder.

She nodded. “Well, thanks,” she said. “Thanks a lot.”

∗

In the long vigil by Josie’s bed, Lois had plenty of time to think. As she watched her daughter’s face slowly change from parchment to something more resembling a living creature, she began to relax at last. She had sifted all the information that Peter White had told her a thousand times through her brain. He could have been trying to put the blame on Prof Barratt to cover himself. She knew that things were beginning to fall into place. But first things first, she said to herself.

Then Josie opened her eyes, frowned, and said in a frightened voice, “Mum? What’s happened? I feel sick…”

Long Farnden suddenly seemed a very long way away.

T
wo weeks had elapsed since Josie’s illness and she was beginning to regain her strength, pottering around at home. It had been a worrying time for Lois. Hard on the heels of the shock of Derek’s dalliance with Gloria, the anxiety and feeling of guilt about Josie had reduced Lois to something of an automaton. She organized her household and family into a rigid routine, and even her mother was given orders each day for what was required.