Ann Purser - Threats At Three

Josie looked out at the sheeting rain, and agreed. “And that young Jack Hickson didn’t have a coat nor nothing,” she said.

“Jack?” Lois said. “Why did you say that? Didn’t know you were concerned about the Hickson family.” Then she remembered that it had been Josie who suggested Paula for a job with New Brooms. “Well, I don’t really mean you,” she added. “It’s your father and Gran who ain’t got no time for them. Give a dog a bad name, I reckon.”

“Not much wrong with that family, except for Jack Jr.,” Josie said sadly. “I nearly banned him from the shop this morning. Very lippy he was. It’s almost like he wants trouble.”

“He’s going the right way to get it,” Lois replied. “Anyway, don’t let’s bother about him now. He’s neither one thing nor the other at the moment, not a real teenager nor a child. His voice isn’t properly broken, even. I shall see Paula at the meeting later on. D’you want me to mention it? Or shall we just see how he goes?”

Josie smiled. “Good old Mum,” she said. “Feet on the ground. No wonder Matt’s uncle is so smitten.”

“Josie!”

“Sorry, sorry! Just that Matt says the lads at the station know that Cowgill’s always in a better mood when he’s made a call to Long Farnden.”

“Change the subject,” Lois said firmly. “Did he have any news about the village hall? Any ideas about who might be having a go at burning it down to the ground?”

Josie shook her head. “If he did know anything, he wasn’t telling me,” she said. “He’s very strict about that. Off duty means just that. And police business is confidential.”

“Doesn’t stop him having a normal conversation about village matters, does it?”

“We got better things to talk about, Mum,” Josie said, and that was that.

PAULA WAS ENJOYING HERSELF. LOIS HAD SENT HER UP TO FARNDEN Hall, where Mrs. Tollervey-Jones had sighed with relief on seeing her. “Mrs. Meade telephoned earlier about Floss being unwell,” she said, ushering Paula through the kitchen door. Tradesmen’s entrance, thought Paula, and then reminded herself that Mrs. T-J was a JP on the magistrate’s bench in Tresham and might well have come across Jack Sr. in her work in the family court. She had had to go to the doctor with her wrist when Jack had slashed her. She was pretty sure that he hadn’t meant to do it, but he was blind drunk at the time and his hand had slipped. That’s what he had said, anyway, and this is what she had told the doc as he treated her. She could see he didn’t believe her, but there was nothing more she could say.

In a way, it had been a relief when Jack Sr. had left. Being on her own was hard, but at least she could concentrate on the kids and not worry about keeping them out of Jack’s way when he was in the drink.

Now she picked up a tiny porcelain foxhound, one of a group surrounding a finely modelled horse and rider. As instructed, she took great care and replaced them all exactly as she found them. Mrs. T-J had gone into the village, and Paula wanted everything to be perfect for when she returned. This job with New Brooms was heaven sent, and she intended no fault would be found with her work.

“Don’t open the door to anyone,” Mrs. T-J had cautioned her. “Not even a policeman.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face. “When you’ve been a magistrate for as long as I have,” she added, “you are bound to have made an enemy or two.”

It was so peaceful and quiet, Paula thought, and perched on the edge of a spindly legged chair for a moment. What must it be like to be the old girl, living in luxury, not a care in the world and never a worry about where the next penny was coming from?

A sudden snort from an armchair at the other side of the room startled her, and she jumped to her feet in alarm. Then she saw it was a fat old spaniel, white and liver colored, lumbering across the room towards her, wagging its tail. She bent down and fondled its velvety ears. “You made me jump,” she said. “Must get on,” she continued, and picked up the wax polish and duster and headed for the door.

As she crossed the hall with its chessboard black and white tiles, her eye was caught by a figure walking up the gravelled drive. As he approached she watched him with growing apprehension.

“Oh, God!” As he came closer, she recognized him. “No, no, no!” she yelled, and ran out of the hall, down the passage and into the kitchen. She checked the door was locked, and then shot the bolt in the scullery. Then she heard the front doorbell. He was keeping his finger on it without pausing, and Paula stuck her fingers in her ears. She cowered behind the larder door and prayed that he would go away.

Then she heard the blessed sound of Mrs. T-J’s car sweeping into the stable yard. She ran quickly to the long windows and saw the figure retreating rapidly across the park and disappear into a thicket bordering the road. Her heart was thudding, and she made a desperate attempt to pull herself together.

“Paula? Are you there? All well?” Mrs. T-J was in a good mood. She had put a card in the shop window advertising for an under-gardener to help out Bob, who was certainly in need of assistance. With the present job situation, someone was bound to apply, and all she had to do now was find a way of explaining the need for an assistant to the old man who had been tending the gardens at the hall for what must be more than fifty years.

“Ah, there you are. Are you all right? You look a bit surprised. Surely I told you I would be back? Only been to the village, you know.”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones. Just this dear old dog.” She bent down and patted the spaniel. “Gave me quite a start. She was asleep in the big chair, and I hadn’t noticed her until she snorted!”

“Dog lover, are you?” Mrs. Tollervey-Jones smiled. Splendid, she thought. Must tell Mrs. Meade that she can send Paula Hickson anytime she liked. Hickson? A familiar name, surely? She shook her head, and called the spaniel to offer a biscuit treat from the shop.

LOIS HEARD THE DOORBELL, AND WAS NOT SURPRISED TO SEE Paula Hickson on the front step.

“Hope I’m not too early?”

Lois smiled, and said she was on the dot of noon, and to come in. “The others will be here shortly,” she said. “They come in dribs and drabs, according to what time they finish work. Sometimes clients want a bit of extra done. The customer is always right!” she added. Then she took a good look at Paula. She was neatly dressed, but pale, and when she fumbled in her bag to find a notebook and pen, Lois noted that her hand was trembling.

“Are you all right, Paula?” she said. Perhaps it was nervousness at her first day in a new job.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Paula insisted, though she still felt considerably shaken by her husband’s sudden appearance at the hall. She was dreading what he might do next, but was making a huge effort to concentrate on Mrs. Meade and the prospect of meeting the others on the team.

“Morning, Mrs. M!” Three more were standing on the step, and Lois brought them in to her office. “This is Paula Hickson, new member of the team,” she said. “Sheila Stratford, Hazel Thornbull from our office in Tresham, and Bridie Reading, Hazel’s mum.” They all smiled and said welcoming things to Paula.

Last to arrive was Andrew Young, a cleaner on the team but also an interior designer who combined the two. The arrangement was a comparatively new development for Lois and had proved very successful. She was beginning to wonder if Andrew might one day soon give up cleaning and concentrate on what was, some would say, though probably not Gran, a more manly profession. So far, Andrew had insisted that he loved cleaning, was not gay, and found the two jobs complementary. He could drop in a commercial for his design business whilst polishing the silver, he joked.