Ann Purser - Threats At Three

Well, he had had one or two mates, too. Not that they had supported him much at the time, but he could give one of them a ring and see if he’d heard from Hickson. He still had his number somewhere. He searched and found it in an old notebook in his pocket, and dialled. His luck was in, and he recognized the voice. “Hi, mate!” he said breezily. “Guess who this is?” The answer was quick and final. A click, and then the dialling tone.

Ross sagged in his chair. He finished his beer and opened another. Friendless, he said to himself. All except for that bugger who had him by the short and curlies. He needed to think, and as always when silence began to close in and threaten panic, he switched on the telly.

“GOOD MEETING?” LOIS SAID, AS DEREK CAME INTO THE SITTING room a little unsteadily.

“More of a celebration, ac-ac-actually,” he said. “Soap box Speedy Willie is finished, and christened with a bottle of champagne presented by the publican!”

“Shouldn’t they wait until they’ve won the grand prix before cracking open the champagne?” said Lois dryly. She didn’t grudge Derek his celebration. He had worked really hard on this whole event, and deserved a break. “I wonder how they got on at the Youth Club? Hazel said John had to choose a driver.”

“He came into the pub just before I left,” Derek said. “They’ve decided to let young Hickson drive it, all being well. Unani… unanimous decision, apparently.”

“Is it safely built?” Lois said, with a sudden shiver of doubt.

“Oh, yes. They’ve had technical advice from the college. It looks a really streamlined job, too. It’ll be great for the kid if he wins. And hey, you know he was supposed to turn up at choir the night he went missing? Well, Tony Dibson was in the pub, and he said the lad had sent a note of apology. He’s still going to join, as soon as he’s sorted out.”

“That’s all right, then,” Lois said. All seemed to be going to plan. So why did she have this nagging feeling that something was still wrong, dangerously wrong?

IWISH I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO, BUT THE CLIENT SAID THIS WAS HIS only free time. I shall be back about four o’clock,” Gavin said. “What are you going to do with yourselves, poppet?”

The question was addressed to Cecilia, but Kate answered. She had had a terrible night, with not a wink of sleep. Over and over in her mind she had considered the best thing to do. Gavin had expressly forbidden her to go anywhere near the Café Jaune in Tresham, today or any other day, without him.

But the man had been so threatening! If only she could sort it out without having to tell Gavin. If she did tell him, she knew he would just storm off and tackle Tim Froot head on, and she feared that hot-tempered Gavin would come off worst. He seemed to have put the whole thing out of his mind at the moment, so in the end she decided to wait until he had gone and then see how she could get into Tresham without the car. There was a bus on Saturday mornings, she knew, but had no idea what time it went. If she turned up with Cecilia, Tim Froot wouldn’t be able to do anything bad. And after all, a café was a very public place. Then she could sort him out in no uncertain terms and come straight home again. It was nine o’clock now, and Gavin was on his way out of the door. He need never know.

“We shall be fine,” she assured him. “Might do a bit of gardening, and then go round to see how Paula Hickson is getting on. Little Frankie might come for a walk with us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Cecilia?” she added, cuddling her daughter close.

“Take care, then. Bye, both,” he said, and blowing a kiss he was gone.

Ten minutes later, Kate had telephoned Josie at the shop and established that the bus went from there at a quarter past ten. Just time to clear up and get Cecilia ready, and then they could be at the shop in good time. Now she had made the decision, she felt much better, and quite strong enough to deal with half a dozen Tim Froots, so long as they were safely observed by a café full of people.

There was a small queue waiting for the bus, and Kate joined on the end, folding Cecilia’s pushchair to be ready to load it. She stood behind Father Rodney, and just to make conversation asked him why he was catching the bus and not taking his car into town? He replied that the parking on Saturdays was impossible, and in any case, the bus gave him a chance to chat to parishioners who were not necessarily churchgoers.

They climbed into the bus, already fairly full, and Father Rodney shepherded Kate and Cecilia into a seat and then sat beside them. “Will you come to me to give Mummy a rest?” he said, smiling at the toddler. To Kate’s surprise, Cecilia held out her arms, and went without a murmur to sit on the vicar’s lap and look around at the other passengers.

“Going shopping, Kate?” he said, after they’d got going again. “Gavin not with you today?”

“No, he’s gone to see a client. Back this afternoon. We’re just going into town for an outing, really. Something to do. We’ll have lunch somewhere, and then catch the bus back this afternoon.”

“There are two today,” Father Rodney said. “One about two thirty, and the other just after four. I hope to get the early one. I’m just going to Waitrose to get my favourite drinking chocolate! Josie doesn’t have it in the shop yet.”

“It’s a long way to go for a jar of chocolate drink,” Kate said with a smile. “I think chatting to likely converts is the real reason! Anyway, we’re very glad, aren’t we, Cecilia, to sit next to someone we know.”

And so the conversation proceeded comfortably until they turned into the Tresham bus park, and slowly the bus emptied. The vicar said he would walk with Kate into the middle of town. She looked at her watch, and said she would come into Waitrose with him and buy some of the magic drinking chocolate. It was only eleven o’clock, and when he suggested having a coffee in the supermarket coffee bar, she willingly agreed. He insisted on taking charge of Cecilia in her pushchair, and Kate found herself thinking what it would be like to be a vicar’s wife. It was different, she quickly realised. People made way for him, and it was as if an invisible barrier surrounded all three of them. How odd, she thought. Worse than being a doctor! There were three pedestals she wouldn’t want to inhabit: the pulpit, the doctor’s surgery and the teacher’s desk. There was no doubt that people still set these slightly apart from the rest, giving them extra respect and keeping a little distance.

After they had finished their coffee, and cleaned up Cecilia’s massacre of a chocolate muffin, Kate said it was time they went off. “See you on the early bus, with a bit of luck,” she said. “And thanks for coffee.”

Father Rodney said it was he who should thank both of them for their company. In truth, he had enjoyed it so much that when they went off, with Cecilia waving an enthusiastic goodbye, it made his loneliness twice as bad. But he was being stupid, he told himself. He had God’s work to do in his parish, and he must concentrate on that, though he couldn’t help thinking it would be so much easier if he had a loving companion, and maybe even a small Cecilia…

Kate’s heart was thumping as she approached the Café Jaune, and she was relieved to see that it was fairly full of customers already. She maneuverd the pushchair through the door and looked around. For one wonderful moment she thought he was not there. Then a bulky figure stood up from a table in a dark corner. It was Tim Froot, and he was smiling. Like a snake, thought Kate. Smiling like a poisonous snake.