Threats At Three Part 20

It was a lovely calm evening, still warm from the day's unbroken suns.h.i.+ne. If only it could be like this next week, they should have a really profitable day. And a lot of fun, too. The soap box had brought the village together in the best way. Nothing like a bit of good-natured compet.i.tion. She thought of the unresolved question of what had really happened to Jack Jr., and decided to leave it until tomorrow, when her brain had cleared.

When she reached Kate's house and rang the bell, there was a long silence and she began to think n.o.body was at home. But surely it would be Cecilia's bedtime? Then she saw the net curtain twitch, followed by the sound of locks and bolts being undone. What on earth was going on?

"Oh, it's you, Mrs. Meade." Kate looked worried. "Do you want to come in?"

Lois nodded and walked into the neat sitting room, all the toys now tidied away into a big red plastic box. "I hope you don't mind my calling," she said. "I saw Gavin on his way to a meeting, and thought it would be a good time to tell you about Paula."

"Of course," Kate said. "Please sit down. Would you like a coffee?"

They talked for a while, and Kate seemed pleased that Paula would entrust her small son with her for a while after nursery. "I did wonder whether she would go off the idea after what happened to Jack. What did happen to him, anyway?"

Lois gave her the authorised version, and skipped on to ask about Cecilia. a.s.sured that the little girl had settled very happily now, she prepared to leave. But Kate said quickly, "No, don't go yet. It's so nice to chat to someone when Gavin is out, and I expect your husband is with the lads, too?"

Lois sat down again. "Are you nervous about something, Kate?" she said. "I couldn't help hearing all those unlockings! Not scared of anyone, are you?"

"No, no," Kate said airily. "It's Gavin. He always insists I lock up securely when he goes out in the evenings. Especially since the Hickson business."

The conversation stumbled on. In the end, Lois said she had to go, as Gran would wonder where she was. "Gavin should be home very soon," she said. "And look, it's not really dark yet. Listen to that blackbird! There's a couple of them calling to each other. Come out here and listen."

As they stood in the quiet evening, listening to the liquid notes of the blackbirds, the sound of a rough engine broke the spell. Kate froze as a shabby white van drew up outside her gate. The window was lowered, and a voice shouted out, "Twelve o'clock sharp tomorrow, Mrs. Adstone! Be there!" And the van moved off, juddering as it gathered speed.

Kate turned and rushed back in, followed by Lois. "Who was that? Did you know him?"

"No, no, of course not. Never seen him before. Must have got the wrong house. Sorry to have kept you, Mrs. Meade. Goodbye now." And Kate more or less shoved Lois out of the house and began to lock and bolt the door once more.

Lois shrugged. If Kate Adstone was having an affair with a man in a scruffy van, it was her business. But it hadn't sounded like that, and Lois was pretty sure it was the right house. He'd used Kate's name, hadn't he?

FORTY-SEVEN.

THE MAN, WHOSE CURRENT NAME WAS ROSS, RETURNED TO his sister's house and parked his van outside, obscuring any view of the turgid ca.n.a.l water on the other side of the road. The house was in darkness. He supposed she was out at one of her many social engagements. Whist, bingo, a coffee evening with her Oxfam mates somewhere in the town. Well, that was good. He would have the house to himself, and could use her telephone to make some calls.

He drew the curtains, opened a beer and settled down. The first call was the most important. He dialled a familiar number, and waited.

"h.e.l.lo? It's me. Ross. Yeah, mission accomplished. What? Yes, of course I made sure she heard."

The voice at the other end of the line asked if he was certain she had been alone. Ross thought quickly. A small lie was necessary here. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I went to the pub first, and her bloke was there, buying drinks all round for some reason. Something to do with this soap box grand prix they're putting on in Farnden next Sat.u.r.day. I think they'd finished their vehicle, or something. You'd've been proud of me. I managed to get in on the round meself!"

"So she was alone, except for the kid?" the voice said.

"Yep. I kept it short. She was scared, o' course."

"And did she say she'd be there?"

Another necessary lie. "Oh, yeah. Said she was looking forwards to it."

"Liar," said the voice. "Anyway, you'll be for it if she doesn't turn up."

The call was cut off abruptly, and Ross saw that his hand was shaking. Sod the b.u.g.g.e.r! If only he'd never got into his clutches. That's how his sort worked, of course. Caught you when you were down, in his case sacked unjustly, and then made themselves indispensable.

His next call was to the dodgy character who'd been his second-in-command at Barcelona Street. "So what's happened about that girl? Cops took her away, I suppose? Did anybody talk? All got away before they got there? Good. Keep in touch, and don't forget that if you blab it's your life or mine. And I'm keen to hang on to mine."

That should fix him, he thought, and hung up. Now the most difficult one. He had to find out where Hickson was hiding out. The score was still not settled. There was no news on the telly. The story had gone quiet, but the evening paper had a small paragraph saying the police were still looking for the boy's father. He knew Hickson had been popular when he worked with the gardening lot at the parks depot. He had good cause to remember that! He rubbed his ribs where the pain still caught him, especially in wet weather.

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 b.u.g.g.e.r 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 s.h.i.+ver 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?

FORTY-EIGHT.

I WISH 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 Cafe 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 cafe 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 a.s.sured 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 cafe 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 Sat.u.r.days was impossible, and in any case, the bus gave him a chance to chat to paris.h.i.+oners 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 pa.s.sengers.

"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 ma.s.sacre of a chocolate m.u.f.fin, 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 G.o.d'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 Cafe 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.

"Well done, Kate!" He came across and helped her move the pushchair between the tables.

"She'll stay in her chair," she said, as he began to undo the straps that held Cecilia in. She had already planned a quick getaway after she had said her piece. She sat down and glared at Froot. Let him make the first move. He offered her the menu, and asked what she fancied to drink.

"Water, thanks. Tap water."

"And Cecilia?"

"I've got her drink in my bag."

"Right, now what will you both have to eat. I've been looking forwards to this meeting for days!"

"I'll have a pizza, and Cecilia can have some of it. She doesn't eat much at lunchtimes, and still has an afternoon sleep." She had worked this out as a useful time limit on their meeting. His next remark, oh so casual, scuppered this.

"I thought we might have a stroll in the park after lunch," he said. "Cecilia will probably drop off as we go. I seem to remember my young ones were always lulled to sleep by movement. Car, pushchair, train. Quite useful, really, when they were bored on journeys."

Anyone overhearing this conversation would think it the most natural thing in the world, thought Kate. A young mother and her child, with maybe an uncle or father, even, meeting for a pleasant lunch. If that was all, fine, but the new suggestion of a walk in the park was not so pleasant. Anything could happen. It was a big park, and there were always deserted paths through tall shrubbery areas.

"Something wrong, Kate? You look a bit alarmed. I'm not planning anything harmful, you know. Nor am going to ravish you behind the bushes! Not this time, anyway, and not in front of an infant. No, I asked you here for a talk, and mostly about your wayward husband."

"What do you mean, *wayward'? The only other girl he's ever looked at has been Cecilia!"

"Not wayward in that sense. Do relax, Kate. This is a very preliminary talk. Ah, here's our drinks." He downed half his gla.s.s of red wine in one gulp, and then said that Gavin had been wayward in not fulfilling a bargain that he had with Froot, and this was not satisfactory.

"Nothing to do with me," said Kate. "And if I had my way, we'd be rid of you for good. I personally would be happy never to set eyes on you again."

Tim Froot put back his large head and hooted with laughter. Two women at the neighbouring table looked across and joined in the laughter, nodding approval. How nice to see the little family enjoying themselves! Even the little girl was chortling with delight.

"That's how I like my women," Froot said. "Good and feisty. A real challenge."

"I'm going," said Kate, putting down her gla.s.s of water.

Froot's tone suddenly changed. "No, you're not," he hissed. "Stay exactly where you are, and smile."

Kate subsided back into her chair, but did not smile. Oh my G.o.d, she whispered to herself in panic. Why did I come? What is he going to do? Then common sense took over. What could he do, right here in a crowded cafe? She would have to tell him what she had rehea.r.s.ed and then leave, regardless of what he might say. He could do nothing.

"Now," he said, "listen to me, Kate Adstone. Your husband is deeply in debt to me. His part of the bargain was to wreck all chances of restoring your pathetic village hall, and instead to persuade the oafs on the parish council to go for the rebuild option. He did not do this. Not only that, but he now appears to be determined to wreck plan B, which was to make sure the soap box grand prix will be a financial disaster. It will be closed down on the night before the event. By the police, of course, who I understand have not been consulted. You can't just organise this kind of thing without consulting them, you know. Gavin is to see that this happens, at the last minute, of course, to cost the organisers the most possible trouble in terms of money and disappointment. You are to see he does that, Kate. Otherwise, I shall take steps to make your marriage unbearable. A total disaster. Oh yes, don't interrupt. I can do it. You can be sure of that."

He sat back in his chair and smiled again. The pizzas arrived, and Kate cut up small pieces to feed to Cecilia. Her head was reeling. Most of what Froot had said was a complete surprise. But one odd thing occurred to her.

"But why do want the village hall rebuilt? Surely not a job for contractors of your size?"

"Not just the village hall, Kate. It would be a package, taking in the playing fields. Lots of lovely executive dwellings for young families with children to play with Cecilia. And before you ask, I shall of course make sure alternative playing fields are provided."

"But even so," she protested, "it could only be a small development compared with your usual projects. There's another reason, isn't there?"

"That's where the bargain comes in," Froot said, leaning forwards confidingly. "When Gavin brings off his part of the a.s.signment, I have promised to waive the debt and make a place for him at the top of my team. He's a clever lad, Kate, as I'm sure you know. I want him back." And his wife, too, if possible, he thought, but kept that to himself.

"You must be mad," Kate said. "Gavin is no performing monkey! He has principles and a mind of his own. We'll pay off your rotten loan, if it takes everything we've got."

"Everything?" said Froot, and now his smile was slimy.

Kate s.h.i.+vered. "Come on, Cecilia," she said, standing up, glaring at him. "We're off home. And don't send your disgusting heavy round to intimidate me again, or I'll be the one going to the police. And not to shop the soap box lot! I'll see you in jail, Tim Froot, if you put one more foot wrong. We'll make regular payments until we're clear of you and everything to do with you."

She turned her back on him and pushed Cecilia out of the cafe and walked as fast as she could along the crowded pavement, away from the worst half hour of her life.

OVER THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN, IN THE SMALL TERRACE OF houses by the ca.n.a.l, Froot's faithful henchman was slumped in front of his sister's television. They were watching her favourite soap, and he was nearly asleep. Then his mobile rang, and when he saw who was calling he ran into the kitchen, slamming the door.

"h.e.l.lo, boss? How's life?"

"Shut up!" said Tim Froot. "Listen carefully, you idiot. I shall say these instructions only once, so get it right. If anything goes wrong this time, you're a dead man. Perhaps floating gently past your sister's house in the murky ca.n.a.l? No, that's too good for you. So just listen."

FORTY-NINE.

FATHER RODNEY HAD DRIFTED AROUND TRESHAM, BUYING things he didn't really need but pa.s.sing the time until the bus to Farnden returned. He was early back at the bus station, and looked round, vaguely hoping that Kate and Cecilia would also be in time. They were nowhere to be seen, and in due course the bus was almost full. The driver climbed into his seat and started the engine.

"Hey, wait a minute!" a woman called from the rear of the bus. "A woman with a baby is coming! Wait a minute, driver!" she repeated.

Fortunately, the driver was the good-humored one who usually drove this bus on a Sat.u.r.day. He nodded, and opened the doors again. Father Rodney got up from his seat and rushed to help Kate aboard, taking the pushchair from her and stowing it, and then sitting the two of them down next to him. "You made it, then," he said calmly. He supposed it was the dash for the bus that had caused Kate to look so upset and shaky, and when Cecilia tried to climb on to his lap, he lifted her up gladly.

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.