Tragedy at Two (23 page)

“Dogs can swim.”

“Perhaps it were drunk,” he replied.

“George,” Athalia said, banging her fork on the table. “Are you going to tell me the truth, or shall I turn you out with no supper?” She was fond of him, of course, and had never understood why that stupid wife of his had left him. And she a true gypsy on top of it all.

“It
was
a dog,” he said again. “But it weren’t just any old dog. Jal and me recognised it at once. Not many of them dogs around now. Know what I mean?”

There was silence for a minute, and then Athalia sighed. “I see,” she said. “So what are we going to do about that?”

“Nothing. At least, not yet. We’ll wait and see what turns up. Anyway, we’ll be gone by the end of the week.”

“Followed by the cops, no doubt,” said Athalia, getting up to look in the saucepan.

He looked at her, frowning. “Cops?” he said.

“They’re keeping an eye on us here,” she answered. “It takes more than a plain grey suit to disguise the polis.” She told him about the perambulating policeman, and said that if he was keeping an eye on them, she had certainly got
him
under observation and would know him again anywhere, anytime.

ANOTHER WEEK, THOUGHT LOIS, AND NO NEARER FINDING out who attacked Rob. It was not often Lois felt low, but so little progress was taking its toll on her natural optimism. She shook herself and managed a small smile, thinking of barmy old Mrs. T-J up at the hall, who had once said to a group of clinically depressed patients come to enjoy a strawberry tea in her gardens, “Now, I want you all to pull yourselves together!”

Feeling cheered up, Lois remembered her dad’s advice. Write it down, me duck, and you’ll think more clearly. She picked up a pen. A list of names first.

Josie and Rob: Been together for several years. Josie fed up with him? Rob too mild and blind to his good luck in finding Josie? And now, hints that there had been another side to him. Drunk and belligerent. Enemies? Long lost brother? Ah, yes, that one. They’d heard no more of him. More ferreting needed there.

Cowgill and Matthew Vickers: Policemen. ’Nuff said.

Sheila and Sam: Something wrong between them. Sam’s hatred of gypsies. Small barney between Sam and Alf in the shop, as reported by Josie.

Alf and Edwina: Happily married? No children. Alf ’s love of gypsies—Edwina not agreeing. Why should Sam and Alf disagree so violently? Money and women—those were the usuals. More thinking needed.

Mark Brown: Lying little git. Was it his handwriting on the label? And now, of course, she remembered the phone call that took her along that road where she would be sure to see the flowers. It
was
him, Mark Brown. Clever, but risky. And now a twosome with Sally Tollervey-Jones. Sally: another unreliable character, but moneyed and protected by family position. More info on the village hall gang needed.

So who is the gang’s mastermind? One likely person, known for his unrelenting prejudice against gypsies and blacks, occurred to Lois, but she dismissed the idea at once, not wanting it to be true. Last but not least, the gypsies, tinkers or travellers. No good thinking of them as like us. Different way of life, rules and regs and values. Athalia a good woman, but where would her loyalties lie? The two quiz men? George and Jal, she remembered. George was nice, knowledgeable . . . fanciable! More information needed. Or would she just like to see him again? Lois laughed, feeling much brighter.

And then the two nasties with a pit bull and a market stall. Defin itely more ferreting needed there.

“Lois!” It was Gran, calling from the kitchen.

“What?”

“On the wireless! It’s all about the Appleby horse fair! Come quickly!”

Lois looked down at her notes with some satisfaction, and went swiftly out to the kitchen. It was a series of programmes that Gran loved. A pleasant-voiced girl went around the country finding interesting things to talk about.
Our Britain
, it was called, and Gran never missed an episode if she could help it.

Lois sat down at the table and listened carefully. The Appleby horse fair in Cumbria had been taking place for hundreds of years. Every so often somebody tried to close it down, but it was still going, stronger than ever. The woman on the radio said the whole town is taken over by huge numbers of gypsy travellers, their vans, trailers and horses. Horses change hands for bundles of cash undeclared to the Inland Revenue, and the horses are paraded and shown off in trotting races prior to deals. The Romani language is universally spoken, and some say it is as well to stay clear after a certain time in the evening.

As she listened, Lois began to think she would really like to go and see for herself. Maybe catch up with Athalia, George and Jal. It would be no good asking Derek to go with her. She knew what he’d say without asking him. But she could go alone, or maybe take Josie for a bit of a break. The idea began to grow, and she resolved to make some arrangements. Gran and Floss could help with the shop for a few days.

“You wouldn’t catch me going anywhere near Appleby that week!” said Gran, reading Lois’s thoughts. She’s an old witch, my mum, Lois said to herself. How does she do it?

“Nobody’s asking you to go, Mum,” she said. “Still, it must be a wonderful sight to see, with them old caravans all painted up, and the horses at their best. Exciting, too, with that wildness in them all.”

Gran looked dismayed. “Don’t even think of it, Lois Meade,” she said.

 

 

LOIS NOT ONLY THOUGHT OF IT, SHE WENT DOWN TO THE SHOP to sound out Josie. There were no customers, and Josie listened with interest. “How long would we be away?” she said. “You know Gran is apt to make an intelligent guess at pricing and totalling up.”

“I reckoned about three or four days,” Lois said. “I could arrange for Floss to take over the shop, anyway. We’ll ask Andrew Young if he has time to fill in. Depends on his décor jobs, but he might be glad of the extra cleaning—or even behind the counter? I think the difficult thing will be to find somewhere to stay in Appleby. Thousands of people come and go during that week, apparently.”

“D’you want me to do some phoning around?” Josie offered. They fixed dates and times, and Lois went away feeling quite restored. All she had to do now was break the news to Derek and Gran. Her optimism took a small dive, but she was up again by the time she had called on Floss and received an enthusiastic response from her.

“I reckon Andrew will be keen, too,” Floss said. “Ben met him in town, and he was just finishing that décor job in Waltonby. We shall be fine, Mrs. M. Go and enjoy yourselves, but don’t get taken off by the raggle-taggle gypsies!”

Lois waited until they were sitting round the kitchen table at teatime. Derek was cheerful, having had a winner at Ling-field races. “Came in first, miles ahead of the others,” he said.

“Was it that Tony what gave you the tip?” Gran said suspiciously.

“Never you mind,” Derek said. “All you need to know is that it won.”

“D’you reckon he tells us about the ones that lose?” Lois said to her mother. They laughed together, and Lois judged the atmosphere was about right for breaking the Appleby news. Inevitably, she was wrong.

“Definitely not,” said Derek, immediately sober. “I’m not havin’ any wife of mine goin’ to that gypsy fair. Hundreds of ’em! You’ll not be safe for one minute. And what about Josie? Young girl like her? How could you even consider it, Lois?”

Gran said, “You must be mad. And who’s going to run the shop? I have other things to do, you know, besides standing in for Josie selling groceries.”

“And newspapers,” Lois said.

“Lois! Be serious,” Derek said.

“Right. I’m being serious. So here’s what we’ll do. Josie and me will stay in a reputable hotel or B & B, and not be out late. There’s loads of police around. It’s been happening for hundreds of years, so they know all the dodges. Now, Floss will take over the shop, and the Post Office will supply a temporary. Andrew will take over Floss’s cleaning, and the whole thing will run like clockwork.”

“So you don’t want me to do the shop at all?” Gran said, now feeling left out.

“Wouldn’t dream of asking, Mum,” Lois said. “I know what a busy woman you are.”

Derek sat in silence, frowning. At last he said, “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

Lois took a deep breath, crossed her fingers under the table, and said that she would love him to come, but thought he wouldn’t be interested.

More silence. Gran got up from the table, taking dirty crocks and putting them into the sink.

“Derek?” Lois said.

“Lois.”

“Well?”

“Well what? Are you asking my permission?”

Lois shook her head. “But I’d like to know if you’ve changed your mind at all,” she said gently.

Derek sighed. “It’s no good, Lois,” he said. “You know you’ll do exactly what you want, whatever I say.” He paused, and she said nothing. “Well,” he continued, “I suppose there’s safety in numbers. You and Josie must stick together. Don’t let her out of your sight. And ring me every evening. I can’t say I’m happy for you to go, but if that’s what you want. . . .”

Lois stood up and put her arms round Derek’s shoulders. She kissed him on top of his head, and said he was the best husband in the world. Gran clattered dishes in the washing-up bowl, and said crossly, “Lois Weedon, I don’t know where your father and me went wrong. And that’s all I’m saying.”

Lois knew that when her mother lapsed into using her maiden name, she was truly in disgrace. “It’ll be fine, Mum,” she said. “I’ll bring you a nice little horse back from the fair.”

After that, she judged it wise to shut herself in her office for half an hour while they chewed it over between them.

She had just sat down and switched on her computer, when the phone rang. She answered it at once, and heard a voice that was faintly familiar. “Mrs. Meade? Lois? This is Greg . . . here. Rob’s brother. I have something very interesting to share with you. Would it be possible for me to pop round in about an hour?”

“Fine,” said Lois. “You know where we are. In an hour, then. Derek and Gran are here, and I’m sure they’ll be pleased to see you again.”

She put down the phone and smiled. Things were definitely looking up.

FOUR OF THE GANG HAD GATHERED BEHIND THE VILLAGE HALL, and were lazily discussing films they had seen on television. Not all four lived in Long Farnden. Two of them had cycled over from Fletching, without the proper helmets, of course, but with hoods up and eyes down.

“Hey, did you know they’re advertising crash-proof hoodies’ gear?”

The others laughed, doubting his word. Sally T-J came sprinting round the corner, and asked if Mark Brown had been there. The others shook their heads. She subsided in a crouch on the tarmac, and lit a cigarette. “Right,” she said, “I’ll wait. He’ll probably turn up.”

“Somethin’ to tell him?”

“Mind your own business,” Sally said, and they all laughed knowingly. They said that if it was what they thought it was, Mark Brown would do well to stay away.

Five minutes passed, and the four said they were off to Waltonby. A new source had moved into that village, and they were keen to try it out. Sally didn’t move. Her head was sunk into her shoulders, and she drew on the cigarette in some desperation. What should she do if Mark didn’t turn up? Twenty minutes went by.

“Sally?” It was him. “Where’s the others? I thought we were meeting them here tonight?”

“They’ve gone over to Waltonby. New contact. I waited for you. Wanted to see you specially,” she added, and looked up at him appealingly. Then she stood up and put her arms round his neck. “Do you love me, Markie?”

“You know I do,” he said warily. This wasn’t the bright, casual Sally he was used to. Still, a few declarations of love wouldn’t come amiss just at this time. He wasn’t sure how much more contempt he could take in his own home, from his own parents.