Lois Meade 01: Murder on Monday (EN, 2002) (26 page)

“Come on,” he said. “Bring the map and we’ll be up there in two hours. Hurry up, gel,” he added. “Sooner we get there the better. And don’t bother ringing your police pal. We can settle this without them.”

∗

Josie awoke to the sound of doves cooing loudly outside the window and for several moments had no idea where she was. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. The bed was iron-framed and somebody had some time ago painted it white and gold. The gold was chipped here and there, revealing black metal beneath, and the boss of roses in the centre of the headboard showed traces of a virulent salmon pink, also peeling. The mattress she sat on was lumpy and now as she looked around her she saw that everything in the tiny room was old, scratched and unsteady. But it was clean. Mum would notice that straight away.

Last night came back slowly to her as she shook the sleep out of her head. Melvyn had found sheets and blankets and together they had made up this narrow bed. He’d made sure she had everything she wanted (except her mother and that was what she wanted most) and had disappeared, saying he would see her in the morning, when they would go for a lovely long ramble over the moor. The last thing she remembered was thinking that she’d never get to sleep in this strange and lonely place.

She slipped out of bed and went over to the window. The sun was up, and everything glistened with hoar frost. It was like fairyland. The nearest thing to it Josie had seen was the Christmas display in the shopping centre. But this magic transformation stretched as far as her eye could see. The farmyard below was swept clean and, like an illustration in a children’s book, a horse’s head peered out over the top of a stable door. As she looked out, the horse whinnied and plumes of steam came from his flared nostrils into the frosty air. Beyond, she could see a grassy meadow and tall, bare trees. The grass sparkled, and every bare branch bore a miraculous coating of shining, glittering frost. She struggled with the window catch, and managed to open it, gasping at the inrush of sharp, cold air. When she got used to the icy clearness of it, she took deep breaths and found herself smiling.

“Hi! Did you sleep OK?” It was Melvyn, dressed already in jeans and a thick jersey, below in the yard. He was grinning at her, and Josie pulled her nightdress tightly around her.

She nodded. “It’s great!” she said, gesturing widely with one arm. “Never seen anythin’ like this!”

“Get dressed, then,” called Melvyn. “Breakfast’s ready. Uncle Ned’s gone into town to get chicken feed. We can go for a walk later…get some of this air into you.”

He made her sound like a flat tyre, she thought, but she splashed freezing cold water from a jug on a wash stand over her face and hands and got dressed quickly. She looked around the room, wondering what to do with the dirty water in the flowery china basin. A strange-looking bucket stood under the washstand. It had a lid with a hole in the centre, and, hoping it was the right thing, she carefully tipped the water into the sloping sides of the lid. It disappeared with a gurgle and she reminded herself to empty it later. By now she desperately wanted the lavatory and ventured out into the narrow dark corridor outside her bedroom. One or two doors opened into bedrooms with similar beds, but bare of everything except lumpy mattresses. None of them was a lavatory. Blimey! What did the rest of them do?

“Josie?” It was Melvyn at the foot of the stairs. “Come on, I’ve boiled you an egg.” She rushed downstairs and with her legs crossed asked him urgently where she should go.

“Down the yard,” he said with a grin.

“What?” shrieked Josie, unsure of whether Melvyn was joking or not.

“Down there.” He pointed to a small, slate-roofed hovel at the far end of the yard. “Used to be a two-holer,” he said. “But it’s a proper one now.”

Not waiting to ask him what a two-holer was, Josie ran down the yard, nearly came a cropper on the slippery cobbles, and bolted herself in the hovel with relief. It was clean, and hanging on a nail was a farming magazine, which Josie realized was in lieu of a toilet roll. The shiny paper did not do a very good job, but she had a tissue in her pocket, and that helped. She emerged again into the sunlit yard and began to walk back towards Melvyn, who stood waiting for her at the kitchen door.

How did he get to be so grown-up? she thought. Not once had he wavered, or seemed unsure, during their journey north. And after that call to Mum and Dad, he’d put his arm around her and taken her back to the house. She’d seen that Uncle Ned was a wizened, but friendly old man and soon Melvyn had suggested they go to bed. She had felt a moment’s panic, but then he’d led her to the little room with a single bed and she knew that she wasn’t expected to share his. She knew her parents would be here sooner or later, but had been quite glad they hadn’t turned up in the middle of the night. Probably on the way right now.

The smell of toast wafted across the yard towards her and she felt hungry. She ate a boiled egg and three pieces of toast and butter – butter like she’d never tasted before – and felt good. Mum and Dad knew where she was, Melvyn was not pushing her to do anything she didn’t want to do, and outside that door was an amazing world of space and light, and just the sounds of birdsong and the cackling of hens from the yard.

“Come on, then, gel,” said Melvyn. He handed her a pair of old Wellington boots. “These look about right for you,” he said and helped her pull them on over a pair of thick socks that smelt of dog. One of the spaniels was jumping about in excitement, barking sharply.

“Shall we take the dogs?” Josie said. “Where’re the leads?”

“Leads?” said Melvyn. “They don’t need no leads.” He led the way across the yard and out into the field through a heavy gate. The spaniels ran on ahead, their paws leaving a trail on the frosty grass. Suddenly Josie was laughing, not at anything in particular, but just in delight at the beauty of it all. She skipped along beside Melvyn, trying to keep up with his long strides.

He looked at her and smiled. “That’s right, Jose,” he said, and reached for her hand.

∗

It had been a difficult task persuading Derek not to set off for Yorkshire straight away.

“How are we going to find this farm, right in the middle of nowhere, in the dark?” Lois had argued.

“I’ll find it,” Derek had replied grimly. They had quarrelled violently, then, with Lois bringing up all the old anger. She said irrationally that if she hadn’t been so shocked about him and Gloria, with her mind distracted away from where it should have been, on the family, she wouldn’t have…

“Wouldn’t have what?” Derek had shouted at her. “Let Josie go off with your mother? Gone back to work in Farnden? If you hadn’t been so taken up with playing detective, more likely…Don’t be ridiculous, Lois,” he had added more calmly. “It’s just one of them things. Would’ve happened sooner or later whatever we’d done. That Melvyn is a weirdo, and he’s not having my Josie any longer than is absolutely necessary. Get your coat!” he’d ordered.

Lois had refused, saying they’d do more harm than good arriving in the small hours. “Won’t stop anything happening. It’ll have happened by the time we get there, if it’s going to happen at all,” she said. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning and arrive at a sensible hour. If we can put this thing right without going mad, or getting the police storming in, it’ll do the least damage to Josie. Surely even you can see that, Derek? After all, the lad’s not an escaped loony, or anything…”

She had persuaded him in the end and they’d gone to bed, where neither of them had slept at all. As dawn broke, Lois went downstairs and made strong tea. They forced down a plate of cereal and, aware of curious eyes at several neighbouring windows, set off in Lois’s car, through a silent estate, and on round the bypass to the motorway.

“His mother sounded quite nice,” said Derek, as they drove uninterrupted up the misty motorway. They had both calmed down and were talking together in a way they hadn’t for quite a while.

“You know all them boys are fostered, except Melvyn, and he’s adopted?” said Lois. “Nosy-parker postman told me. The parents couldn’t have kids of their own. She’s a very good mother, according to him. Kids are always well turned-out, and more polite than most. Not that that means much,” she added, with a lurching stomach. “Lots of criminals are very gentle, polite people.”

“Speaking from experience?” said Derek.

Lois did not reply and there was silence for a few miles. She had not told Derek about yesterday’s scene at the Barratts. It had seemed unimportant compared with Josie’s disappearance. She was reluctant for another reason; she knew Derek was fed up with the Farnden murder mystery, and would for two pins forbid Lois to go there any more. He knew as well as she did that she could get work anywhere. Of course, he couldn’t actually forbid her. She had more than once told him to get stuffed and done what she knew he disapproved of. But they were little things. This was a big one. Maybe she shouldn’t leave the Barratts’ after all. Perhaps she should go along with Malcolm’s deception that the whole row had never happened, that she had just fainted from tiredness and overwork? Ah well, time enough to worry about that one.

“Sun’s coming out,” said Derek beside her. “Got any coffee left in that flask?”

“How much further?” she asked, handing Derek a beaker of coffee.

“About another hour,” he said. “Should we stop for something to eat?”

Lois shook her head. “Keep going,” she said.

The car wouldn’t do much more than sixty-five and the motorway stretched endlessly away into the distance. The mist had cleared and the sun shone into Lois’s eyes. She closed them and leaned her head back against the seat.

“You can have a nap,” said Derek.

“Some hope,” said Lois, but three minutes later she was asleep.

∗

High up on the hill above Uncle Ned’s farm, Melvyn and Josie stood looking across the valley. “It’s fantastic!” said Josie. “Why don’t we all come and live up here, instead of that muck-hole Churchill Estate?”

Melvyn shook his head. “This is for holidays,” he said. “Towns are for school and work. I’m getting a job soon. Earn some money, then I’ll get a place of me own. Will you come and live with me, Josie? We could get married later…”

Josie looked at him. “I’m only fourteen,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

“Yes, I know. Not straight away. Later, I said.” He kissed her cold face and hugged her tight. “I’m going to have me own home and kids, one day. I’ll be a real father.” He let go of her, and looked away. “You know my dad’s not my real father,” he said.

Josie shook her head, but didn’t say anything. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. “I know who my real one is, though,” he continued. “And me real mum. Though I don’t often see them.”

He fell silent and neither spoke for a minute or two. The road lay beneath them, a whitish scar across the silvery green landscape. Josie could see a line of heavy lorries crawling along like her brothers’ toys. Behind them, she made out a familiar shape.

“Hey!” she said, grabbing Melvyn’s arm. “Hey, that’s our car, isn’t it?”

Melvyn lifted the binoculars he’d taken from his uncle’s cupboard and studied the motorway. “Yep,” he said flatly. “That’s your Mum and Dad. Come to get you. We’d better be getting back.” His expression was empty. He took Josie’s hand, and they set off across the frozen fields, back towards the farm, where retribution awaited them.

“I
felt sorry for him,” said Lois quietly. They were driving back down the motorway, Josie apparently fast asleep in the back of the car. It had been unexpectedly easy. The runaways had been waiting for them in the farmyard as they climbed unsteadily out of the car. Josie had not rushed into her mother’s arms, nor had Derek punched Melvyn in the face, as he had threatened several times on the journey. Josie had smiled and remained close to Melvyn, holding his hand tightly.

It was Melvyn, polite as ever, who had spoken first. “Morning Mrs Meade,” he’d said, and nodded to Derek. “I expect you’d like something to eat and drink.” The normality of his suggestion had rendered the Meades speechless for a few seconds. Then Lois had stepped forward. It took all her strength to suppress a furious outburst. She had done a lot of thinking on the journey and decided that angry confrontation would get them nowhere.

She took a deep breath and said in a reasonable voice, “We need to talk, Melvyn,” she had said. “And you, Josie – ” she’d added, giving her daughter’s red cheek a brief kiss – “can get your things together.”

“But – ” Josie had stuttered.

“But nothing!” Derek had found his tongue and in spite of Lois kicking his shin warningly, he’d laid into the pair of them. He had no thoughts of sweet reasonableness. All his pent up anxiety spilled out in an accusing tirade.

Melvyn had said nothing. He allowed Derek to come to a spluttering halt, then said, “I didn’t mean no harm. Honest, Mr Meade. I just wanted Josie to get properly better.”

Derek had taken a breath, but before he could speak, Lois had interrupted. “Let him finish,” she’d said. “Go on, Melvyn.”

It seemed Melvyn had planned it all carefully, with Josie’s collusion. He had wanted to ask their permission, he said, but Josie said they would never allow it.

Derek had grunted, “Too bloody right we wouldn’t have!” but then waited for Melvyn to continue. He was soon through with describing their journey, Josie’s being upset, and the telephone call home.

“She’s fine this morning,” he’d said pleadingly. “Don’t you see, Mrs Meade? She looks great already…”

“Where’s this Uncle Ned?” Derek had demanded. He clearly didn’t believe he existed.

“Gone to town. Be back this afternoon,” answered Melvyn.

“Huh!” Derek had said. “We shan’t meet him, then. Come on, Lois, get back in the car. This is the end of it, young man,” he’d added to Melvyn. “Just stay clear of Josie or by God I’ll make you wish you had.”

Josie had reappeared, carrying her bag, but sobbing now. They’d driven away down the pot-holed lane, and Lois had a fierce pain in her stomach as her muscles clenched with tension and their success in finding Josie felt strangely nothing like a happy ending. Josie had watched Melvyn until they turned the corner into the main road and he was out of sight. Then she’d slumped in her seat and closed her eyes. She hadn’t spoken since.