Ann Purser - Threats At Three

Kate nodded and tried to thank him, but instead she choked and put her hand up to her mouth.

“My dear, are you all right?” he asked with concern. “Has something happened in town? Anything I can do to help? No, don’t try to answer. Take your time.”

He was quite sure there must have been some nasty incident, but when Kate had recovered herself she just gave him a crooked smile and said no, she was just out of breath from running.

Father Rodney then made small talk and pointed out a passing fire engine to Cecilia. “Wha-wha! Wha-wha!” she said dutifully.

For Kate, the journey seemed endless. She desperately wanted to be in her small cottage, safely locked in until Gavin came home. She had decided to risk his wrath and tell him what she had done. At least that would put him on his guard in case Froot decided on violent retaliation. She knew now that the man could do it. The expression on his face as she stormed out of the café was scary, and all eyes had been turned on him. She hadn’t looked back, but guessed that he would not have followed her. That would have made him too conspicuous, and he was a man who liked to be in the shadows. It would be that villain in the dirty white van. He was the one they should be looking out for.

When they got off the bus, she assured the vicar that she would be fine walking home. She did not explain that there were plenty of people about, and she meant to walk fast. As she passed the Hicksons’ house, she heard Paula’s voice. For a moment, she wanted to walk on, pretending she had not heard, but in the end slowed up and stopped, looking round.

“Got time for a cuppa?” shouted Paula. “Been shopping in town? Thirsty work,” she added hopefully.

Kate sighed. “Oh, well, thanks,” she said, turning the pushchair round. “Kind of you. Can’t stay long, but a quick cup would be great. Thanks.”

“I’ve been alone with the kids all day,” Paula said, as they went into the house. “You get desperate for a bit of adult conversation, don’t you?” she added. “I could almost have my husband back, just for that.”

“Are you serious?” Kate asked, suddenly aware of a change in her new friend. So this wasn’t just a casual invitation. She took her mug of tea and sat down, watching Cecilia and Frankie sparring over a pile of toy bricks.

“Not really,” Paula replied slowly. “But yes, I suppose I am. It’s Jack Jr. that I’m thinking of. He needs his father. He’s a difficult boy-always was-but I thought I could manage him on my own.” She gave a rueful smile, and added, “But it’s obvious that I can’t. O’ course, he’s bright. Everybody says so. But if I’m not careful, it’s all going the wrong way. He’ll use his cleverness in bad ways, and end up one of them dropouts outside the town hall in Tresham.

“You might meet some other guy, who’d be a better influence than Jack Sr.,” Kate suggested. She could concentrate with only half her mind, her thoughts still whirling round her encounter with Tim Froot. Supposing he got to Gavin before she did? She drank her tea in big gulps, and shifted in her chair, preparing to leave.

“Better the devil you know,” Paula answered, with a half smile. “My old man was a good husband and father until he lost his job, you know. It was the disgrace, really. Where he was brought up, losing your job was your own fault. This time it wasn’t. But anyway, it was the stigma what really got him down.”

Kate subsided back into her chair. This was costing Paula quite a lot, telling her this stuff about her husband. She wanted to say that if all she had to worry about was a depressed husband, she was lucky. Then she reminded herself that Paula had had a terrible few days, and tried again.

“Well, when they find him, why don’t you suggest getting together with one of those marriage adviser people. Maybe you could both try hard and make a go of it again?”

“ If they find him, Kate. That’s the number one problem at the moment. I’m just crossing my fingers that he doesn’t do anything stupid. Anyway,” she added, making an effort to brighten up, “I mustn’t keep you. It was really kind of you to come in for a few minutes. And to offer to meet Frankie and have him for a couple of hours. I’ll pay you, of course, the going rate! I shall tell Mrs. M that I can be available extra hours.”

“So where’s young Jack now?” Kate said, as she and Cecilia walked back down the garden path.

“In his room,” Paula said. “He doesn’t seem to want to leave it. The social worker said he’s probably still a bit shocked.”

“Do you think that?”

“No,” said Paula. “I think he’s plotting something.”

GAVIN DROVE BACK IN THE EARLY EVENING THROUGH HIS PEACEFUL village with a feeling of relief. He was tired and looking forwards to seeing Kate and Cecilia. He wouldn’t admit to himself that he was anxious for their safety, but all day it had lurked at the back of his mind. Froot was used to getting his own way, and in the past had stopped at nothing to get it. Thank goodness Kate had decided against meeting with him.

He turned the car into their lane, and saw Tony and Irene in her wheelchair outside his gate. Christ! What was happening? He screeched to a halt and leapt out of his car. To his relief, he saw that Tony was smiling. Nothing too bad, then.

He greeted them, and then stood, breathing heavily. Irene stretched out her hand. “Evening, Gavin,” she said. “Hasn’t it been a beautiful day? We’ve been having tea in your garden with Kate and Cecilia. Such a treat for we oldies!”

Gavin looked towards his front door, and saw Kate standing there, holding his daughter, both of them waving to him. He said a silent prayer of thanks, and went to meet them. Apparently Tony and Irene had insisted on coming round to keep Kate company, bringing a sponge cake and homemade biscuits, and she hadn’t been able to refuse. In fact, they had all enjoyed it, and Cecilia had been thoroughly indulged.

Together, Gavin and Kate put their daughter to bed, and then settled down to a pizza and a bottle of red wine he had bought on the way home.

“Are we celebrating something?” Kate said.

“I suppose we are,” he said. “Got a new client, and an offer of a job.”

Kate gasped. How had Froot found Gavin already? “Who with?” she stuttered.

“Well, the bloke I went to see, of course. Robin Crossley. He wants me to join his company and take on the side of the business I’m already doing in Tresham. What’s the matter, Kate? Are you ill?”

“Not really,” she said, “but listen, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

IN HIS MAKESHIFT HOME IN THE WAREHOUSE, JACK HICKSON HAD cleaned a filthy window so that he could see out into the street below. He had spotted the paragraph in the paper saying that the missing boy had been safely at a friend’s house all the time. There was some adverse comment about wasting taxpayers’ money. Jack could not have explained exactly how, but he knew that his son was lying. The lad had his faults, but he wouldn’t have put his mother through all that worry voluntarily. No, he was absolutely certain that he had been abducted, and he knew by whom. No doubt young Jack was too frightened to tell the truth.

He knew there was little likelihood of seeing his quarry by chance. He would have to carry out his plan to pace the streets patiently, keeping his eyes and ears open, until he picked up a clue. Every so often he would slip into a public toilet or a menswear changing room or some such, and change his appearance. It was easy, really. A woolly hat, or heavy-framed glasses, or the false beard or mustache bought from the joke shop, and there he was, no longer Jack Hickson, but a perfect stranger. Or so, in his inexperience, he thought.