Part 2 (1/2)

When she mentioned the arson rumour, she could tell he immediately snapped into professional mode and was quiet. ”So I smelled the petrol for myself,” she continued, ”and saw the matches. Tony says the ground was dry as a bone, so they must have been damp in the box.”

”Going out for the day, did you say, Lois? What time are you going?”

”We're all leaving about ten o'clock.” She looked at her watch. ”In about an hour's time.”

”I'm on my way,” he said briskly. ”Can you meet me at the hall in twenty minutes? Good girl,” he added, and ended the call before she could reply.

Derek was not pleased when Lois explained that because of what she had seen she had to be at the hall to meet the police. ”By *the police' I suppose you mean Hunter sodding Cowgill? Honestly, Lois, haven't we had enough of all this? Why don't you leave them to deal with some nutter who likes the idea of a good blaze? He's obviously no real arsonist if he can't even keep his matches dry!”

Gran, putting hot toast on the table, nodded. ”Quite right, Derek,” she said. ”This is a special day out for all of you. Don't spoil it, Lois.”

Lois suppressed a strong desire to tell her mother to mind her own business, and said only that she would be back well in time for Douglas to collect them. ”Are you sure you'll be all right in the shop, Mum?” she added, in an endeavor to change the subject.

Gran bridled. ”No, of course not,” she said tartly. ”I shall give out wrong change, make a mess of cutting the ham, annoy the customers and in general ruin the shop's reputation.”

”Okay, okay,” said Derek. ”Let's just concentrate on the day, shall we? Just be back here by ten, Lois. Otherwise,” he said seriously, ”I shall have to come and find you and give Cowgill a piece of my mind.”

”No need for that,” Lois said. ”And anyway, with your new SOS responsibility, you'll need all the mind you can muster, without giving away any pieces of it.”

Escaping from the decidedly chilly atmosphere of home, she returned to the village hall to find Cowgill already there. How does he do it? she wondered. Half an hour ago he had clearly just got up, and now here he was, immaculate as always. And with no woman to look after him . . .

Tony Dibson was also there, still clutching the matches, and he had already told Cowgill all that he knew. ”Not usually a matter for the chief inspector, sir?” he said, with a meaning look at Lois.

”Arson is a very serious matter, Mr. Dibson,” Cowgill said smoothly. ”And we try to have as little rigid hierarchy as possible at the station, you know,” he added.

What was the b.u.g.g.e.r talking about? Tony looked at Lois enquiringly, and said could he go home now, as his wife would be needing him.

After he had gone, Cowgill walked round the hall and along the fence, prodding and sniffing, and then asked Lois if she would sit in his car with him for a couple of minutes while he made some notes. She said fine, so long as he didn't have any etchings to show her, and ten minutes later she was on her way back to the house.

”Where've you been, Mum?” Doug said, as he and his family cruised past her a yard or two before Meade House. The name had been suggested by Josie, who said that's what everybody called it anyway, so why not regularize it?

”Nowhere,” replied Lois, waving to little Harry. ”We're all ready, so I'll just call Dad. Isn't that Josie on her way? Good. That means we won't have to stop again.”

”Hi!” Josie called as she approached. ”We're off to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of s.p.a.ce!”

Harry chortled and waved his hands about. He had no idea what his aunt was on about, but he loved her dearly. She slid across the seat to sit next to him, gave him a smacking kiss and said he was her favourite nephew. Doug did not fail with the ritual reply that he was her only nephew, so far.

”Plenty of room,” Doug said, as Lois and Derek climbed into the seven-seater, and with cries of delight for Harry's benefit, they got under way.

SIX.

THE MORNING HAD NOT STARTED SO WELL IN WHAT WAS STILL known as Pickerings' house, though the Pickerings had sold to a mysterious single man who had turned out to be a sinister people trafficker. Needless to say, he had been sent to jail for a long stretch, and the house had been put on the market again. A spry village character had bought it in order to rent it out. He had a deal with the local Social Services Department who needed accommodation for the deserving homeless. One such family were the Hicksons, and they had moved in under the watchful eyes of the villagers.

The house was one of the many old ironstone buildings in the village, and in bright suns.h.i.+ne it glowed a warm dark gold. The end wall had been built with bands of limestone alternating with ironstone, and on an otherwise perfectly plain family house, the pattern of stripes was a glimpse of a long-gone village builder's unexpected flight of fancy.

Inside the thick walls, it was warm and welcoming, and when Paula Hickson had first seen it, she couldn't believe her luck. Her husband, Jack, had walked out after the fourth boy had been born, saying he couldn't stand the racket, and she had no idea where he had gone. In a way, she knew they were better off without him, as any money coming in had, since Jack lost his job, gone out again rapidly to be spent on booze, and when he boozed he was violent.

The house had four bedrooms and a decent bathroom, and downstairs a couple of big rooms and a largish kitchen. Paula was able to furnish the sitting room with stuff provided by Social Services, which was adequate, though she sometimes thought it looked a bit like a junk shop. Still, she told herself, beggars can't be choosers. She would not forget in a hurry the bailiff's visit to their old home.

She decided the other main room, a dining room in the old days probably, would make a good playroom for the boys. A playroom! It was like a dream to a woman who had been living in two small rooms, one of which was a curtained-off bedroom for herself and the boys. Jack Jr. was now thirteen and at Tresham comprehensive. He needed private s.p.a.ce for homework, if and when he got round to it, and now he could have one big bedroom to himself. The other two spares, much smaller, were for eight-year-old twins Jim and David, in the hope that separating them for sleep would give them all a bit of peace. Nine-month-old Frankie still slept in a cot alongside his mother.

The morning had started badly because on going to wake Jack, Paula found he was not in his bedroom and had clearly not slept in his bed. This was the second time he had stayed out somewhere all night, and Paula groaned. He had promised that if she had gone to bed, he would let himself in, and it would not be too late. The previous time this had happened he had said airily that he'd slept over with his mate in Tresham. ”Missed the last bus,” he had said, and added that if they had to live in a G.o.dforsaken village in the middle of nowhere with only two buses a week, what was he to do?

”You could let me know! That's what you could do!” Paula had shouted at him. ”Ever heard of the phone?” she had added, and then regretted it, because she could not possibly afford for him to have his own mobile.

Now she gave the others their breakfasts, and prepared to send the twins off to a school friend's house for the morning with stern warnings that they were to go straight there and not dillydally on the way. Thank G.o.d they had taken to the village school like a pair of ducklings to water. No complaints from them. In a small cla.s.s with a cheerful young woman teacher, they had blossomed from their first day. They were identical twins, and Rebecca Stockbridge confessed they were a challenge in her cla.s.s, but one she intended to enjoy.

Paula sighed. She hoped that Jack Jr. had slept sensibly in his friend's house in Tresham, and she would see him arrive home on the afternoon bus. She had little confidence in this scenario, and thought it much more likely that her firstborn would be wandering round the streets of Tresham, hood concealing his face, until he managed to thumb a lift back to the village.

She stood at the gate, waiting until the twins were safely on their way, and her eye was caught by the sight of Douglas's vehicle moving slowly down the village street. As it pa.s.sed her, she could see it was full of happy smiling faces, and one or two waved to her. She recognized Josie Meade from the shop, who had been really helpful to her since she arrived. Must be her family, Paula supposed, and felt a stab of envy at their obvious togetherness. Then she s.h.i.+fted the baby to be more comfortable on her hip, and turned to go indoors. ”No good feeling sorry for yourself, Paula Hickson,” she said aloud, and the baby smiled at her. Things could be a lot worse.

BY THE TIME DOUGLAS HAD TAKEN A COUPLE OF WRONG TURNS in the outskirts of Leicester, and had shut his ears to all the varying instructions from his pa.s.sengers, little Harry was asleep and Derek was desperate for a pee. Finally they pulled into the big car park, and as they looked out of the windows an awed silence fell. A bulging silver balloonlike structure stretched up into the sky, dwarfing the crowds of families making for the entrance.

”Look at that!” Douglas said. ”Hey, Susie, wake up Harry so's he can see it.”

”Not a good idea,” Lois said quickly. ”You know how fractious he is when he's woken up. Let's all get out first, and then we can unload him straight into his pushchair and get going. That'll take his attention and we won't get the usual screams.”

Susie frowned. Sometimes she wished her mother-in-law wasn't quite so ready with the voice of experience. Harry was hers and Douglas's, and they were best at managing him. But she bit back a sharp rejoinder and heaved the pushchair out of the boot s.p.a.ce. She saw Matthew Vickers approaching, and said, ”Nice to see you. Always useful to have a policeman in the party.”

”Off duty, I'm afraid,” he said, and grinned at Josie. They all set off across the almost full car park towards the main entrance, and as they got closer, Lois began to feel oddly apprehensive. Inside the reception area children and parents and grannies and granddads milled about. She stood still to get her bearings and saw a snack cafe off to the side. Suggesting that they have a snack lunch before everyone else converged there, she led the way.

With only one cas.h.i.+er, it took a while to get settled, and Lois had a chance to look around. The low lighting in the wide reception area heightened the feeling she already had on glimpsing vast models of distant planets of being in an alien environment, and she was glad when they sat down with their trays in the sunlit cafe, though another near-panic hit her when she caught sight of what looked like large upturned buckets hanging down from high above the chattering families.

”Derek! Isn't that where the great fire that launches the rockets comes from?” she said nervously. She realised they were now inside the silver balloon, and she could see that this housed two huge rockets stretching up above them. A sudden memory of the Challenger that crashed back to earth killing all inside, including a lovely young woman, jolted her.

”Yep, that's what gets 'em up into s.p.a.ce. Want me to put a match to them?” He laughed at her, and patted her shoulder. ”We're quite safe, gel,” he said.

Meanwhile Matthew and Josie seemed oblivious to anything but themselves, seated as they were at a cozy table for two. The others had grouped together, with a high chair for young Harry, and then made short work of sandwiches and coffee, anxious to get going.

As they filed through the paying booths, Lois suddenly saw ahead of them a man going through the turnstiles and was sure he was familiar. When he turned to talk to a woman she recognized as Kate Adstone, she was sure it was Gavin. Following them, and clearly part of their party, came a tall, portly man with thinning ginger hair and a boozer's nose, bright red to match the rest of his complexion. Lois and the others were still waiting in the queue for tickets when the Adstones and friend disappeared from sight.

”Did you see him?” she said to Derek.

”Who?”

”Gavin Adstone. You know, from Farnden. On your SOS committee.”

Derek shook his head. ”Nope. Still, it could've been him. We might b.u.mp into him as we go round. His toddler's a bit young for this, I'd have thought.”

”Older than our Harry,” Lois replied.