“Good evening, ladies,” said Mrs. T-J. “Now, first of all, welcome to Kate Adstone, who’s come to take a look at us. This is an extra meeting, of course, to discuss in detail our entry for the soap box grand prix, and Lois Meade is here, too, to direct operations. And for once, we have a man in our midst! Douglas Meade here has kindly agreed to help us, and we’ve established that this is within the rules. Well, what we have really established is that there are no rules, except that the soap boxes have to have brakes! So shall we get straight down to business?”
“Hi, everybody,” said Douglas, standing up and looking a little nervously at the assembled group. “Mum says, that is Lois Meade, as most of you know, she says that you have decided on your soap box being a jar of jam! I like it, but we’ll have to do quite a bit of design work. I have given it some thought, and reckon we could take a large barrel as our base. I thought if I did most of the construction, then you talented lot could decorate it, make it look like a jar of jam. By the way, will it be strawberry or raspberry?”
“Does it make a difference?” asked Lois, with a grin. They all laughed. Most of them could remember him as a sandy-haired schoolboy, and a nice one at that.
“Of course,” said a straight-faced Douglas. “So where shall we find a barrel? Any ideas?”
“I think I can help there,” said Mrs. T-J. “My people are in brewing, and I’m sure my cousin would be delighted to let us have a barrel. We shall probably have to clean it out, of course, but shall I go ahead with that?”
Blimey, the old thing is a mover and shaker. “Thank you, that would be a great start,” he said, and then suggested they all move into a circle round the big table so that he could show them some preliminary drawings he had made.
Lois was proud of him. He had a gift for bringing out the best in people, either adopting their suggestions or tactfully sidelining them for the moment. Sheila Stratford said she was sure Sam would be able to find some good wheels on the farm. Although he was now retired, he still spent a lot of time there, helping out. Their long patch of trouble and involvement with the police had come to an end, and Sheila was anxious to rehabilitate Sam into village life.
By half past eight, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones announced that they had made really good progress and it was time to wind up the meeting. “We must meet again, weekly, if that is acceptable,” she said. “Not much time, and I shall need some practise if you all insist that I drive a jar of jam! I must confess,” she added modestly, “that I discovered one of my grandchildren has a similar vehicle, and I had a couple of practise sessions. Reasonably successfully, too. Quite an exhilarating experience, you know,” she said confidingly.
The stunned WI members got to their feet, and Mrs. T-J said she would see them all next Monday evening. “Same time, same place,” she said, and went out humming what could have been “Jerusalem” if she had not been totally tone deaf.
GAVIN, WATCHING TELEVISION WITH THE SOUND TURNED DOWN low so as not to wake Cecilia, looked at his watch. Kate should be home soon. He had had an uncomfortable evening, regretting some of the things he had said to her, but mostly worrying about Tim Froot. He had devoutly wished over and over again that he had never allowed himself to become involved with the man. He was not a man, he was a monster, so friendly and helpful at first, convincing Gavin that the investment he was recommending was all legal and aboveboard. He even offered, and persuaded Gavin to accept, a considerable loan to make the investment worthwhile. And now he was calling in the debt, so that there was not just a risk of exposure of fraud, but also a horrible threat of blackmail involving poor Kate.
The thought of the monster with his hands on his beloved wife sent blood rushing to his head and he stood up, his fists clenched. As he heard her footsteps along the garden path he rushed out and hugged her tightly until she gasped for breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating, and she took his arm and led him into the house, putting her finger to her lips and reminding him that Cecilia was a very light sleeper.
“Now,” she said, when they were sitting side by side on the sofa, “what exactly are you so sorry about? Not just a mild quarrel with me, surely? After all, I had every reason to send that Froot man packing. He won’t try anything again.”
Gavin was quiet for a minute, and then ran his hands through his hair and groaned. “It’s a long story,” he said, adding to himself that he could not possibly tell her all at the moment. Perhaps an edited version would explain his anger and caution her to be very careful with Tim Froot in the future. So he said that when he left Froot’s company, he had had to break a contract in order to take up the new job, which offered really good prospects. Froot had been tough, he said, and made a deal with Gavin involving a loan, which he now wanted repaid.
“But can’t we pay him in installments?” Kate said. “I can get a part-time job now Cecilia’s at nursery. And I can work at home, too. Lots of people do now, using computers. It’s a different world out there!”
Gavin nodded. “That’ll help,” he said. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll crack it together.”
Later on, aware that Gavin was not asleep, Kate said, “You haven’t told me everything, have you, Gav? You haven’t said why Froot is always cruising round this village, down to the village hall and around the streets. Not because of my irresistible charms, I’m sure of that.”
There was a long silence, and then an unconvincing snore. Kate sighed and turned over to face the wall. She had enjoyed the WI meeting, but it all seemed very unimportant now. It was a long time before she finally fell asleep.
THIRTY-TWO
SO I SAID TO HER,” GRAN INSISTED, “THAT SHE MUST REPORT him to the police. Mind you, I don’t think she will. She said she knew him, so I expect it’s more complicated than it looks.”
Lois frowned. “It was a bit extreme, wasn’t it, suggesting the police? After all, if they knew the man, a stern warning from Gavin should do the trick. Anyway, you did right to comfort the poor woman. But it doesn’t sound like it was the same man as the mystery food thief, or Jack Hickson’s missing father.” Or the man who’s persecuting him outside the school gates, she decided. Her mother had taken the whole thing a bit too seriously, she thought privately. Probably just a marital tiff, and Mum walked straight into it.
“Could be an old boyfriend stirring up trouble. But thanks for telling me, anyway,” she said. “Nothing like a boost from Gran Weedon! Kate seemed quite restored at the meeting. Now, I must get on,” she added, returning to her computer screen. “Floss is coming to see me later on, and yesterday’s team meeting threw up a few problems. Thanks for a nice breakfast,” she added tactfully, hoping she had not been too hard on her mother.
The telephone rang, and Gran lingered. Lois smiled at her and waved a farewell hand. Gran left the room in a huff. After all, she said to herself, Lois is not the only one with a nose for trouble.
“Hi, Inspector,” Lois said. “Busy morning. I’m pushed for time here, so what’s up?”
“Good morning, Lois,” he said, and his tone was brisk. “Chris and I are on our way over to Farnden to investigate another theft, this time from you-know-who up at the hall. You could say we’d been summoned. I wondered if you’d be around for a quick chat? Chris will be with me, of course.”
“I don’t need a chaperone,” Lois said lightly. “Still, she seems nice enough, and yes, I’ll be here. But Floss is coming to see me at twelve thirty, so you’ll have to make it snappy.”
In ten minutes they were there, knocking at the front door and being admitted by a curious Gran. “Good morning, Inspector,” she said. “And you, Miss…?”