Tragedy at Two (33 page)

LOIS MADE HER WAY UP TO THE HOTEL BEDROOM AND FOUND Josie stretched out on her bed, a pillow over her head, racked with sobs.

Lois said nothing, but settled down in a chair and waited. After a while, the crying stopped and Josie sat up, scrubbed at her face with a tissue, and said that she’d be ready to go in half an hour.

“Fine,” Lois said. “I’ll just have to pay the bill, and we can be on our way.”

“D’you mean that?” Josie said suspiciously.

“O’ course. That was one of the most awful bloody things I’ve ever seen. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick.” She hesitated, then said, “And you know what was the worst thing about it?”

Josie nodded. “That bloke who drowned his horse—him running away.”

“They’ll get him,” Lois said. “Sure as anything. If the police don’t, the travellers will. Rough justice, that’ll be.”

“Mum,” Josie began slowly, “d’you have any idea what we’re getting into? Don’t you feel it? Under everything goin’ on here? Put one foot wrong, and really bad things could happen to us.”

“Us?” Lois said, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes,
us
,” Josie said firmly.

“I hate to say this, Josie,” Lois said pleadingly, “but what could be worse than what happened to Rob? Isn’t that why we’re here? You’re right about things going on under the surface, and I
know
we’re on the right track. I can’t even put it into words, but if we go home right now, we shall lose it.”

“And the police?” Josie said angrily. “Do we assume they’re doing nothing—l eaving it all to the great detective Meade?”

“Of course not,” Lois said. “I expect we shall hear from Cowgill soon, wanting to know what we’re finding out and not telling us anythin’ about what
they’re
finding out. But that’s the way it goes. All that matters is Rob, isn’t it?”

Josie got up from the bed and walked to the window. “Everything’s gone quiet,” she said. “Even the gypsy kids.”

“Naturally. Horses is their life, and sometimes their livelihood.”

Neither said anything more for a few minutes. Then Josie turned around and faced her mother. “All right, then. We stay. So what next?”

“First of all,” Lois replied, “we get out of this room. Come on, best foot forward.”

 

 

ALONG THE CORRIDOR IN HIS ROOM, ALF SMITH WAS ALSO staring out of the window. He had been crossing the bridge when the horse was drowned, and for a moment his attention was redirected from his own worries to those of the gypsies up on the field. The continuing existence of the fair was not only ensured by the respect for tradition from most of the parish councillors, but also because with the RSPCA watching, the travellers made sure there was no cruelty to the horses. The reverse, in fact. All the horses were at their peak, well fed and endlessly groomed, so that there would be good sales when the time came. Now this! It would be hard to face the critics now.

Alf ’s mind wandered on, thinking of Athalia and George, and wondering where they would go after the fair had finished. Athalia had been talking about a permanent site in Yorkshire. She reckoned they could get a place, now that she was getting old and George was speaking about a regular job. But Alf knew that Athalia wouldn’t last long on one of those permanent sites, with mains running water and toilet facilities and all the things that local authorities held dear, but not taking into account the gypsies’ need to be free to go when and where they chose. It was not, he knew, a gypsy conspiracy to avoid council tax and the law in its many guises. Which came first, he wondered, the fact that they had been moved on for so many generations, unwanted outcasts, or because they
needed
to travel, a deep-down, nomadic urge.

Alf’s attention was taken by a couple of figures emerging from the hotel. Mrs. Meade and her daughter, of course. What the hell
were
they doing here? He could not believe that it was just a holiday break. As far as he knew, neither Lois Meade nor her daughter had previously shown the slightest interest in horses. As he watched, they reached the monument in the square, and he saw a figure he recognised step forward. George. Yes, it was him. They stood talking for a few minutes, and then walked off together.

So Lois Meade knew George, and therefore also Athalia. Come to think of it, Alf remembered seeing Lois talking to Athalia on the camp in Farnden. George, Lois Meade and her daughter, all talking to each other in a friendly fashion? What would they talk about now? The drowned horse, of course. And what else? Reading palms, telling fortunes, more than likely. Telling how Athalia read Alf Smith’s palm this morning, and did not tell him what she saw?

Alf shook his head as if to clear away unwanted thoughts, and strode out of his room and down the corridor to the lift. He might be needed up on Gallows Hill, and set off purposefully out into the market square.

 

 

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” JOSIE SAID, AS THEY LEFT GEORGE AND walked in the opposite direction from the bridge, leaving behind the sad scene.

“Anywhere except by the river,” Lois said. “We need to clear our heads. We’ll go up there and see what’s behind those gates. Looks as if it might be interesting.”

They walked slowly, admiring elegant houses and little alleyways that ran between them into mysterious-looking courtyards. “There’s a baby shop,” Josie said. “Maybe we should take a look.”

“Who for?” Lois said.

“Dougie and Susie.”

“Blimey! They’re not wed yet!”

“So?”

Lois stared at Josie. “What are you saying?”

Josie laughed. “Don’t you fancy being a grannie?” she said. “Come on, let’s go and have a look.”

Before they disappeared into the shop, Alf Smith, halfway across the market square, had seen them turn away from the centre of town, and decided to follow them. His unease was growing, and by the time he saw them inside the baby shop, it had turned into near panic. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that Athalia had seen the truth he was hiding, and had told George, who would be sure to have told them. He walked down the passage by the side of the shop, planning to accost them when they emerged. He thought no further than that, and had no idea what he would say.

He saw a sturdy little stone building, its door half open, and a key dangling from the lock. There seemed to be nobody about, and no windows overlooking this part of the passage. He would just step inside and wait. It was obviously a storeroom, and there were piles of boxes stacked up against the back wall. He would see them through the open door, and positioned himself to get a good view.

His heart was pumping, and he felt dizzy. Blast! Maybe he would give Edwina a quick call while he waited. He’d promised to keep in touch, and had not so far spoken to her. There was no answer for a minute or two, and he was just about to give up when a voice said, “Hello? Who is that?”

It was a man’s voice and Alf recognised it. It was Sam Stratford, and he could hear Edwina’s muffled laugh in the background. He said nothing, feeling himself sway. He put the mobile back in his pocket and leaned against the wall. So Josie’s lad had been right. He shut his eyes and tears squeezed out from under his lids, coursing down his cheeks.

WHO WAS IT, SAM?” EDWINA SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE, drinking tea and sobering up from the comical story Sam had told her about an elderly teacher at the village school when he and Alf were young. She had been standing on a chair trying to kill a wasp with a rolled-up newspaper when her skirt suddenly descended round her ankles, leaving her in a shiny green silk petticoat halfway to her knees. The kids had been quiet as mice, terrified to laugh.

“She just bent down, pulled on her skirt, and got on with the lesson,” Sam remembered. “She was a marvellous old gel. Don’t make ’em like that anymore.” Then the phone had rung, and Sam had answered it, Edwina still laughing.

“It was Alf,” he said, completely solemn now. “Nobody said anything, but I’m sure it was Alf. I just know it was.”

Edwina frowned. “How could you possibly know?” she said. “Could have been a wrong number, or been cut off, or anything.”

Sam shrugged. “It was him,” he repeated. “Bugger it. Just when we’d decided to call a halt.”

Edwina nodded. “These things come to a natural end, don’t they.” All the colour had drained from her face and she avoided Sam’s eyes.

“If you wait long enough,” Sam replied philosophically.

They were both silent, until the phone rang again.

“I’ll get it,” Edwina said, pushing her chair back so hard that it fell with a crash on to the stone floor. She held the receiver with a shaking hand, and said, “Hello? Oh, hello, Sheila. Yes, he’s here. He’s finished hedging. Do you want to speak to him?” She handed the receiver to Sam and picked up her chair.

“On me way, me duck,” he said. “Edwina says do you want any eggs? Right-o. I’ll bring a dozen. See you in a minute.”

He turned to Edwina, who was pale and shaking. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see. I’ll get hold of Alf later. He gave me his mobile number in case anything went wrong on the farm. Leave it to me. I’ll put him straight.”

 

 

THE APPLEBY BABY SHOP WAS CRAMMED FULL OF LOVELY LITTLE garments in all shades of blue, yellow and pink, and Josie drooled over them. Lois looked at her and thought that it was time her daughter settled down and started a family.

“Look, Mum! How about this one? It’d be fin e whether it was a boy or girl. Don’t you love it?”

The woman in charge smiled broadly. “An imminent arrival?” she said.

“What?” Lois said. “Oh, no, we’re just looking really. My son and his fiancée are getting married in the autumn, and Josie here thinks we should be prepared!”

“More than that, Mum,” Josie said. “I shouldn’t have spoken out, I know. But Doug and Susie won’t mind. There’s one on the way. Only just, but definitely on the way.”

“Oh,” said the woman, disconcerted. “Ah, well, um . . .”

Lois decided to put her out of her misery. “Oh, that’s great!” she said. “Don’t know what y’ father will say, but I think it’s really great! What’s more, it’ll save the expense of a white wedding . . . that should please him!”

All three laughed, and went into action. The yellow garment was joined by another couple of white ones, and an irresistible teddy bear.

 

 

ALF LOOKED AT HIS WATCH. WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY DOING? He shifted his position and passed his hand across his eyes. His vision was blurred and he blinked hard. Then the shed began to revolve around him, and a sudden excruciating pain like the clutch of Lucifer himself struck his chest. He crumpled to the ground in agony.

When Lois and Josie finally came out of the shop, carrying full bags, they were laughing and talking. “Hey, Mum, I need the loo,” Josie said. “Too much excitement! I’ll just nip in and ask her if they’ve got one handy.” She disappeared into the shop, and Lois turned to go back to the hotel. No point in lugging all this stuff any further. They could dump it and set out again.

She glanced down the passage to see if there was an obvious toilet. A door ajar there, looking like it might be one. She could do with that herself. She began to walk towards it, and then stopped. Was that a man’s hand . . . on the floor just inside the door? Oh, lor’, maybe she should go back. She glanced round, but there was no sign of Josie, so she approached cautiously.

“Oh my God!” she yelled. Now she could see exactly what it was. The hand was Alf Smith’s, and he was lying unconscious on the dusty brick floor.

 

 

THE AMBULANCE ARRIVED PROMPTLY, AND THE PARAMEDIC asked Lois if she was Alf’s wife. No relation? Lois shook her head, but explained that she knew him well and of course she would go with him to the hospital. Josie could take the shopping back to the hotel.

It was a nerve-racking journey. With sirens blaring, they made their way out of town and to the hospital. Lois could just see Alf’s face, waxy and still, as the paramedics held on to him. Was he dead? She daren’t ask, but then one of the men turned to her and said, “Signs of life, dear. Don’t fret.”

What seemed like hours later, Alf was sleeping fitfully with a nurse in constant attendance, and Lois was told she must leave now and get some rest. Edwina had been alerted, and would be there as soon as possible. Lois had no idea when this would be, and felt completely exhausted. Josie had driven over and was waiting to take her back to the hotel. “Straight to bed, Mum,” she said.

“No, not yet. Something I must do,” she said.

“What? Can’t I do it for you?”

Lois shook her head. “No, it won’t take long. You can come with me.” They parked the car, and walked out of the hotel courtyard towards the market square.

“Where’re we going,” Josie asked anxiously. Her mother’s face was drawn and pale, but she was striding out with that look on her face. No arguments, it said.