Tragedy at Two (32 page)

WHAT TIME D’YOU THINK MRS. WESTONBIRT APPEARS FOR breakfast?” Lois was standing at the hotel bedroom window looking down on the sunlit marketplace. There were only a few people about, local shoppers with bags of food, out early to escape the crowds. A stray dog lifted its leg against the gate into the churchyard, and Lois remembered she had promised herself a wander around looking at tombstones.

“Not very early, I guess,” Josie said. “Must take her all of ten minutes getting out of bed, the great lump.”

“She wasn’t always that size,” Lois said gently. “I expect it was comfort eating after her husband died.” She could have bitten her tongue out. Josie’s face fell, and she said she herself had found it quite easy to do without extra food after Rob died. In fact, she said, she would have been quite happy to give up eating all together, and it was only because Gran had force-f ed her that she was not now a confirmed anorexic.

It was like walking on eggshells, Lois thought. Just when she thought they were getting on well together, she had to say a stupid thing like that. But then Josie came over to her and patted her on the head. “Sorry, Mum,” she said. “I’ll get used to it. Meanwhile,” she added, heading for the bathroom, “bags me first in the shower.”

 

 

ATHALIA LEE WAS UP EARLY. IT WAS A HABIT SHE COULD NOT break. All around her the field was sprinkled with rubbish, and she wondered whether to set out with a sack and clear at least some of it. She decided in the end to collect over a good patch of grass around their own trailers and tents. The whole place would be heaving with people quite soon, and her work would be wasted. She knew it took days for the Appleby council to clear the town after the fair was finished. Still, they did well financially from the visitors, and though there were always grumblers who said the fair should be stopped, the council would have none of it.

“Morning, Athalia,” said a voice behind her, and she straightened up, knowing without turning round that it was Alf Smith. “How are we this fine morning?” he asked.

“Fine, thanks, Alf. D’you want a cuppa?” she added. She still felt warmly towards the man who had followed them up to Appleby, who had told her so many times about his dream of being a gypsy on the road. So many evenings she had spent sitting on her trailer steps, discussing with Alf the plight of gypsies and whether things were getting better or worse. She was sad when she and George had agreed that they wouldn’t stop in Farnden again, regretting that Alf was not the cheerful, outgoing bloke he used to be.

“Who’s looking after the farm?” Athalia said, handing Alf a mug of tea. Did y’ wife come to Appleby, too?” She knew perfectly well that Edwina had not come. She was well aware that Mrs. Smith did not have her husband’s interest in gypsies. In fact, she would probably have sent for the Tresham police to see them off, had it not been for Alf.

“The wife’s taking care of everything,” he said, “with the help of Sam Stratford and a nephew of Edwina’s from Fletching.”

“Sam Stratford?” Athalia could not hide her surprise. “Thought you and him didn’t get on? You said he used to bully you at school.”

“School was a long time ago, Athalia,” Alf said. “I can’t say I really like the man, but he’s useful. And we’re grown men now,” he added.

“Grown men sometimes act like kids,” Athalia said, and Alf began to wonder if she knew something she was not telling.

“You’re a real old wise woman! Tell me fortune, can you?”

Athalia did not smile. “Yes, I could tell yer fortune, Alf,” she said. “Me mother was known for it. Used to set up here on the field with a board up outside her wagon. Fortunes told, crystal ball, reading hands, all that. People came from miles away. Mostly women.”

“I bet she told them all they were goin’ to meet a tall, dark stranger and be rich and famous,” Alf said.

Athalia shook her head. “No call for you to mock, Alf Smith,” she said. “Some of them women used to come out of me mam’s wagon crying their eyes out. She only told the truth of what she saw. Could be quite a difficult job sometimes. Lots of times she wouldn’t tell the bad bits.”

“You goin’ to read me palm, then?” Alf said, thinking he hadn’t had much fun yet on his visit to Appleby.

“D’you mean it?” Athalia was serious.

“Yeah, come on. Here—I’ve finished me tea.” Alf followed Athalia into her trailer, where she sat on one side of a small table with Alf opposite her. She took his hand and stared at it for a while without saying anything.

“Come on, then, gel. What can you see?” Alf said impatiently. He saw in some alarm that Athalia was frowning. She did not answer him, but got up and looked out of the trailer door.

“What’s the matter? What did you see?” Alf was really worried now.

Athalia turned to look at him, shaking her head. “I lost the knack, Alf,” she said. “Mind you, I was never as good as me mam. Now, it’s time I did some work, so why don’t you get round and have a word with the others. I’ll see you again.”

He did as she suggested, and walked off. She had said she’d lost the knack, but he knew that she was lying. There had been something bad. A giveaway in his own hand, and his old friend Athalia did not want him to know.

 

 

THE SUNSHINE WAS NOW WARM ON LOIS AND JOSIE AS THEY SET off from the hotel. It was a beautiful calm morning, and they had agreed to go their separate ways. Lois planned to wander around the churchyard and inside the church, and Josie said she would be quite happy walking along the riverbank and maybe she would sit on one of the seats and watch the children and the horses.

“Sure you’ll be all right on your own? You know what your dad said,” Lois asked.

“Of course, I shall be fine. What could happen in bright sunshine in the middle of town with thousands of people about?”

Lois had to admit that Josie was unlikely to come to any harm. They arranged to meet at the church gates at eleven thirty, and then they parted.

Lois walked towards the sandstone church door, deciding to look around inside first, then take her time in the graveyard. Inside it was very quiet. The light filtered through the jewel-bright stained glass windows above the altar, and she walked slowly up the aisle towards it. Nine hundred years, she thought, people had been going to and fro in this church, being baptised, married, carried to the graveyard. It was too long a time to contemplate. Must have been like a different planet, thought Lois. Just about all they would have had in common was eating and drinking, having sex and getting born.

But when she began to think about it, she realised how wrong she was. All the basics were the same. Just the trimmings were different. She walked back down the aisle, and ran her hand over the smooth, cold stone figure of a seventeenth-century lady, stretched out on her grand tomb, hands clasped in prayer. She would have quarrelled with women she didn’t like, fancied men she couldn’t have, had indigestion, got constipated and taken the remedy of the time. Did she plead a headache to her husband when she didn’t feel like a spot of the other? Lois patted the chilly forehead. “You weren’t the first, ducky,” she said, “nor the last, not by a long chalk.”

“Just a woman, but a good one,” said a voice behind her. She whipped round, and saw George standing behind her.

“Bloody hell!” she said, glancing up towards Heaven in apology. “You made me jump. I didn’t hear you come in. How d’you walk without makin’ a noise?”

“Practise,” he said. “All us wicked gyppos know how to move silently. Where’s Josie?” he added, looking round.

“Gone off for a walk by the river,” Lois said. “We’re meeting outside at half past eleven.” She looked at her watch. “I plan to look round the graves for a bit, and then it’ll be time to meet.”

“Not a good idea to let her go alone,” George said quietly. “You get funny people coming to Appleby.”

“But surely nobody would want to hurt Josie?”

George did not answer. He sat on the edge of a chair by the door. Athalia had told him about Alf Smith being in town, and now he was uneasy. He knew she had been hiding something to do with Alf. She said it would be best to avoid their old friend at the moment. “Alf?” he had said. But wasn’t Alf their longtime supporter and champion? Athalia had grunted and said she had seen danger in Alf’s hand. Then she had added that it would be as well to warn Mrs. Meade and her daughter. “No doubt you’ll be seeing them,” she had said sourly.

He had tried to get her to say more, but she had clammed up, and more or less sent him packing into the town to find the Meades.

“Let’s skip the graves, then,” Lois said, frowning. She suddenly had a stab of fear, and made for the door. It was like a bucket of cold water thrown over her. For God’s sake! She didn’t know this man! He was a gypsy, a traveller, and she really knew bugger-all about him and his people.

“Hey, wait for me!” George shouted, and Lois paused. He took her arm. “Why don’t I wait by the gates,” he added, “and you go up to the bridge to see if you can spot her in the crowds. If she turns up here, we’ll wait until you come back. Just go up and take a look along the riverbank. You’re more likely to spot her.”

Lois walked quickly, pushing her way along the crowded pavement, deaf to the angry looks and curses as she collided with other people. She reached the bridge and looked down. It was the same idyllic scene. Lithe young men were washing the black and white horses in the river, then leaping on their backs and guiding them into deep water. Children were chasing about on the sandy banks stretching out into the river, and all along the grassy edges were families strolling, shouting to each other, sitting down to rest, drinking and eating and taking no notice of anybody but themselves.

“There she is!” Lois said aloud in relief. Josie was ambling along the footpath, coming back towards the bridge. Lois ran along and down the steps, meeting her where the horses’ ramp led down into the water.

“I’m not late, am I?” Josie said.

“No, no. Just thought I’d come and meet you. Had a nice walk?”

“Didn’t go far. I was more interested in watching all this carry-on. They’re brilliant on the horses, aren’t they?”

As they watched, a bullet-h eaded young man led his horse down the ramp and into the water. He splashed around with the children for a bit, and then he jumped on to the horse’s back and tried to kick it forward into the deeper part of the river where a current ran strongly. The children crowed and urged him on.

“Doesn’t want to go,” said Josie in a worried voice. “Look at its eyes, Mum. It’s terrified!”

The man got angry and yelled at the horse, pulling at its head with the halter, kicking it forward. Finally it gave in, and all Lois and Josie could see was its head, the rest of its thrashing body submerged.

“Is it swimming?” Lois said anxiously.

“Dunno,” Josie said.

Then the head disappeared. The man was swimming now, desperately pulling on the halter, and suddenly other men were in the water, all of them pulling and pushing until slowly, slowly the inert form of the horse was dragged up onto the bank.

“There’s George!” Lois said, grabbing Josie’s arm. “Look, he’s trying to revive it. They’re giving him space.”

“It’s dead,” said Josie, and choked. Lois took her hand and tried to move her away, but she shook off her mother and stood still, staring at the group of gypsy children gathered round, looking solemnly at the drowned horse.

“That bloke!” Josie said suddenly. “The one who drowned it! He’s running away!”

“George!” shouted Lois, pushing her way through the crowds of gypsies. “He’s gone up to the road! Quick, catch him!”

“Catch him! Catch him!” shouted the children, chasing after George, and they all disappeared towards the road, making slow progress because of the swelling crowds.

Finally Lois persuaded Josie to go back to the hotel, where they found George waiting. “I was too late,” he said. “Seems he had a friend with a car, and they buggered off before anybody up there caught on to what happened. You all right, Josie?” he asked, noticing her chalk white face. He made to put his arm round her shoulders, but she pulled away from him. “Don’t touch me!” she spat at him. “Sodding gypsies! I want to go home,” she yelled at Lois. She rushed away from them and disappeared into the hotel.

“Better go after her,” George said. “I’ll hang around here in case you need me. God, I’m sorry,” he added, “there’ll be big trouble now.”

Lois nodded. “ ’Bye then,” she said. “Might see you.”