Ann Purser - Threats At Three

“Probably seen me around the village,” Paula said. “I’m working for New Brooms now.”

Kate frowned. “No, it wasn’t in the village. Did you work in Tresham at all?” She paused, then said quickly, “Ah, I’ve got it. Do you remember fishing a small child out of the lily pond in the park? I went to pull him out. You were talking to one of the gardeners and then you dashed to help me. Surely you remember?”

Paula smiled broadly. “Yep, I remember. It wasn’t that deep, was it? But the child and its mum had a nasty fright. ’Course I remember now. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Adstone. Sorry I didn’t recognize you. And this is your little girl?”

Kate nodded. “So you’re living in the village? Children?”

Paula said yes, four boys, and they chatted on.

Looking round the two mums, Josie saw a strange man get out of a car and stare up at the shop. She interrupted the conversation and said could she help anybody? Had Kate seen these new children’s biscuits? “No additives,” she said encouragingly. Early on in her shopkeeping career, she had discovered that nothing was more off-putting to new customers than having to fight their way through gossiping villagers.

He was a bulky, formally dressed man, and he marched straight up to the counter. “Do you have a local paper?” he said.

Josie handed him the Tresham Advertiser and put the money in the till. “Are you new around here?” she said with her best welcoming smile.

“No,” the man said. “Thank you,” he added, and walked out of the shop, got back into his car and drove off.

“Talkative chap,” said Kate, handing the biscuits to Josie. “Sounded foreign, didn’t he?”

“Dutch,” said Paula, and then asked if Josie had any more of those eggs from the farm up the road.

THE EVENING WAS COOL AS GRAN WALKED SLOWLY DOWN TO the village hall for the WI meeting, and she was glad of her woolly cardigan.

“Elsie! Wait for me!”

Gran turned around and saw her friend Joan Pickering, hurrying along to catch up with her. “Lovely evening, Joan,” she said with a smile. “Them stocks in your old garden are wonderful. Can you smell ’em?”

“I miss them,” Joan said. “Still, that new woman was out there earlier, weeding and watering. She seems a nice sort. The children were playing happily and the baby crawled about the lawn.”

“What about the biggest boy?” said Gran. “I bet he wasn’t playing happily, or even there at all.”

Joan laughed. “‘Always look on the bright side of life,’ ” she hummed. “You know, Elsie, he could’ve been doing his homework.”

“More likely wandering around Tresham with his no-good friends,” muttered Gran. “Anyway, she’s coming to the meeting tonight. If she turns up. Apparently my granddaughter is babysitting for her. For free, if I know Josie.”

“Perhaps we should call for her?”

“No,” said Gran quickly. “She’ll be there already, I expect. Come on, else we’ll be too late for ‘Jerusalem.’” The two of them laughed, and quickened their pace until they reached the hall.

Mrs. Tollervey-Jones sat at a table covered with a green cloth decorated with the WI badge, rapped with her pen, and called the meeting to order. “Good evening, ladies,” she said benevolently.

“Good evening, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones,” chorused the women, for all the world like a bunch of infants in reception class.

“First of all,” Mrs. T-J continued, “I would like to welcome a new member, Mrs. Paula Hickson. Welcome, Paula. So glad you have decided to join us. Anything you would like to know about the WI, don’t hesitate to ask. And our treasurer will be after you later for your subscription!”

A flutter of laughter came from the semicircle of women. Their treasurer was known to be a terror for collecting the subs, and then was very loath to spend them.

The business of the meeting was then conducted, with only one or two interruptions. Paula got the impression that Mrs. T-J ran the whole thing, and did not welcome suggestions or objections. She glanced to her left, where her colleague Sheila Stratford, also on New Brooms’ team, sat comfortably looking out of the window, obviously listening to none of it.

Eventually, when a scratch rounders team had been raised, representatives for the County Scrabble Competition appointed, and a decision on who should go to the AGM at the Albert Hall in London once more postponed, Mrs. T-J got to her feet. She looked down at the patient policeman in uniform sitting next to her, his German Shepherd dog perfectly well behaved at his side, and said that she had great pleasure in introducing James Smith. “Dog handler extraordinary,” she added with a deep chuckle.

“I’LL SAY THIS FOR ’IM,” GRAN SAID, SIPPING HER WI TEA AND nibbling a slightly soft digestive biscuit, “he knew his stuff. I reckon everyone was riveted, didn’t you, Joan?”

“Well, I was,” Joan Pickering answered, but her attention was elsewhere. “Come on, Elsie,” she said. “That new woman’s all on her own, nobody talking to her. Come on ,” she repeated. “You know what your Lois said.”

Paula smiled as they approached. “That was interesting,” she said, though Gran noticed her hands were tightly clenched.

“You haven’t got any tea,” Joan said. “I’ll get you a cup.”

“No thanks,” Paula said. “I don’t drink tea. Doesn’t suit me. Thanks, anyway.”

“Did you like the video?” Gran said slyly. “Specially that bit where the dog caught the tramp stealing food from a garden bird-table! That was exciting, wasn’t it! What a nerve! Deserves all he got.”

“What would he’ve got, Mrs. Weedon?” Paula said. “Maybe a night banged up in a cell would have been better than sleeping in a smelly doorway?” Her voice was shaky, and Joan Pickering intervened.

“Tell us about your boys, Paula,” she said. “That little tot is a real charmer! I help out some mornings at the playgroup, and he’s bright as a button.”

And so Gran’s unpleasant remarks passed, and Paula relaxed. As she walked home afterwards with the two of them-Joan Pickering had insisted-she wondered if Mrs. Weedon knew about Jack Sr. Would Mrs. M have told her? She doubted it, but this nasty old woman would be quite capable of picking up bits of info from here and there. She was always hanging about outside Mrs. M’s office door when Paula had been in there.

“How was it for you?” Josie said with a grin, as Paula arrived home.

“Not bad,” Paula said. “Thanks a lot for looking after the boys. No trouble, I hope?”

“Little lambs,” Josie said. “Makes me think children are not such a bad idea after all.”

Paula laughed. “Maybe you should try it,” she said. “Now, how much do I owe you?”

“Don’t be daft,” said Josie. “Just keep shopping at my shop,” she said. “That’ll do well.”

“Any messages?” Paula said, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, yes-I almost forgot. The phone went, and I answered it. It was for Jack Jr. A man’s voice. I called Jack, but he yelled down from his room that he was too busy with his homework. He’d ring back later.”

“Did the man leave a name?” Paula said, anxious now.

Josie shook her head. “Nope. Just put down the phone when I gave him Jack’s message. I hope I did right?”

“Oh, yeah. It’d be one of his teachers, I expect. Probably wanting to know where he is most of the time when he should be in school. He’s a problem, Josie. But still,” she added, doing her best to smile, “I don’t want to put you off kids! And thanks again. I’ll do the same for you, one day.”