Ann Purser - Threats At Three

“You’d better keep it to yourself, then,” John said. “We don’t want our family having any truck with that world.”

“Hey, since when were you a nimby? And you a parish councillor, too. That Hickson woman has got enough to put up with, without her thirteen-year-old son being in that kind of trouble!”

John backtracked, saying he’d make some discreet enquiries.

“And also,” said Hazel sternly, “I told Jack about the Youth Club and building a soap box, hoping it might give him something to do, somewhere to make friends. But he wasn’t interested, not on the surface, anyway. It is just possible he might turn up tonight, so could you make an effort with him? I’ve got this horrible feeling something bad is going to happen if nobody does nothing to help him.”

JOHN WAS PLEASED TO COUNT FULL ATTENDANCE AT THE YOUTH Club. The soap box idea had galvanised the usually indolent youths, and they were already in a huddle, discussing design and building plans. Apparently their tech teacher at school had got interested and was helping them.

“Right, girls,” Floss was saying, “let’s make sure we get in on this. Can’t have the boys taking all the credit.” As she herded the two groups together, she saw the door open and a face look round. Then the door shut again.

“Jack Hickson,” she said quickly to John, and dashed for the door. Jack was disappearing up the lane, and she yelled, “Jack! Come here a minute! Can you spare a minute?” Then John was following her, and the pair of them caught up with Jack, who looked fixedly at the ground and said nothing.

“Come on, boy,” John said. “We hoped you’d come. Another pair of hands needed, and I’ve heard you’re a handy lad. Come on, let’s go.” John’s man-to-man approach worked, and Floss was relieved to see the pair walk back to the village hall.

“When we packed up,” she said to her husband, Ben, later that evening, “Jack Hickson looked a different chap. Head up, laughing at John’s silly jokes. And he’d had some good suggestions for the vehicle, so John said.”

“Let’s hope it lasts,” said Ben, from behind the evening paper. “These things can be a one day wonder. Especially with kids. Any coffee going? I’ve been waiting ’til you came home to put the kettle on.”

ARE YOU GOING TO BE LATE TONIGHT?” KATE ADSTONE SAID. She had been asked if she would like to join the WI, and although Gavin had laughed scornfully and said he thought young wives would be more in her line, she had said yes, she would go along and see if she wanted to become a member. It had been that pleasant woman, grandmother of nice Josie at the shop, who’d asked her. Mrs. Weedon, her name was, had offered to call for Kate and take her along to the village hall. “It’s a special meeting,” she had said. “We’re entering a soap box, and hope to get most of the members involved. Some of us are a bit creaky, but there’ll be jobs for everyone.”

Now Gavin grabbed his document case, pecked Kate on the cheek, patted the top of Cecilia’s silky head, and said that he’d make sure he was back by six thirty.

After he’d gone, Kate stacked the dishes and tidied up. It was Cecilia’s first morning at the nursery on her own, and she wanted to get there a little early, so that she could stay and make sure she was settled. There had been a week when she had stayed with Cecilia for the whole morning, and now the idea of abandoning her was awful, She had been assured that it would be good for the child, and she would learn from the other children around her. Kate did not want her to learn some of the less charming ways of other children she had seen, but gave in, and now this important morning had arrived.

“Good morning, Kate! And here’s our Cecilia come to stay with us for a little while. Shall we go and see what Sarah is doing in the playhouse?” She took Cecilia’s hand, and the little girl toddled off obediently after the woman in charge. Kate stood watching them, wanting to burst into tears, grab her baby and run away forever. But she saw the woman motioning that she should leave and so she turned and made her way blindly out of the village hall and up the lane.

She occupied herself changing sheets and stuffing the washing machine, and then sat down to glance at the newspaper. Her attention was caught by a story about abduction and rape, when there was a loud knock at the door. She rushed to open it, convinced that something had happened to Cecilia, and found Tim Froot standing there, smiling broadly at her.

“Are you all right, Kate?” he said. “You look a little distraught! Gavin been beating you up again?” He laughed heartily, and said he was just passing and thought he would cadge a cup of coffee from her. He’d been meaning to have a chat about this and that for some time.

AT NURSERY, CECILIA HAD BEEN FINE FOR FIVE MINUTES, THEN looked around for her mother and realised she had gone. She was instantly heartbroken, and wept bitterly until Sarah, the young assistant, sat her on her lap and fed her teddy-bear biscuits. “Against the rules,” Martha, the woman in charge, had said crossly, but Sarah knew that it was a tried-and-tested remedy for heartbreak, adopted by all the assistants at the nursery.

“Another thoroughly spoiled toddler,” Martha said. “We shall soon lick her into shape.” Sarah winked at the woman who came in to prepare the morning snack. They both knew that Martha was as soft as grease with the children, in spite of her prickly exterior. The little ones seemed to know it, too, and always ran to Martha for comfort in times of distress.

“Mrs. Adstone seems a very pleasant mother,” Sarah said. “Have you met the father?”

Martha shook her head. “I’ve seen him outside, waiting for Kate. Works in Tresham, I believe, at the same place as Mrs. Meade’s son, Douglas. That’s another one who should expand his family as soon as possible! They have a little boy called Harry, I think, and the apple of everyone’s eye. Needs a little competition! The trouble is, you know, Sarah, it is too easy to plan the family these days.”

Uh-oh! Here we go again, thought Sarah.

“In some ways,” said Martha, looking nostalgically out of the high windows in the village hall, “it was better when the only family planning method was abstinence! Then children came along one after the other, and you got it all over when mother and father were still young. And grandparents, too, were still young enough to be a huge help bringing up the grandchildren.”

“Yeah, all ten of the little dears,” said Sarah, smiling. “Not sure I agree, Martha. Still, you can’t put the clock back. Most women wait for a bit, building up a career first.”

Cecilia was struggling to get down from Sarah’s lap and fixing her eyes on a small girl who was bathing a bedraggled doll; she toddled away to join in.

“NICE LITTLE PLACE YOU HAVE HERE, KATE,” SAID TIM FROOT, settling his large frame into the best armchair. “How’s Gavin liking his new job?”

Kate handed him his coffee, and perched on the edge of a chair opposite him. She was nervous. She had not liked him from the first time they met, which was when he interviewed her for a job in his company five years ago. She had not cared for the way his hot eyes looked at her, nor for the way he seemed to have a hold over Gavin, who worked in the same company. It was there she and Gavin had met, and subsequently became engaged.

The conversation limped along, and then he said, “Seems a long time ago that you fell for your Gavin. Why him, Kate, when you could have had the pick of my young executives?”