Secrets on Saturday by Ann Purser

quietly for a bit,” she said, patting the woman on her heaving shoulders. “I’ll be off now, but you can always get me on this number.” She produced a New Brooms card from her pocket and put it on the coffee table. “Oh, and perhaps I should have your name. I’ll look in tomorrow to make sure you’re all right.”
    The woman scrubbed at her face with a tissue, and said quickly, “Oh no, thanks, that won’t be necessary. You’re very kind. I’ll be all right now. Can you let yourself out? I’m feeling a bit wobbly, but I’ll be OK in a minute or two. Oh, and I’m Mrs. Wallis. Frances. Bye.”
    Lois went back to Herbert’s garden shed and locked up. Thinking time needed. She looked up at the cloudless sky. She’d take Jeems for a walk. This morning had been very peculiar, and the more she pictured Reg Abthorpe’s face when he saw her, the more she was convinced he had something very dodgy to hide.

F OURTEEN

    I NSPECTOR C OWGILL WAS THINKING ABOUT L OIS . Since his wife died, he had felt numbed. Nature’s way, his daughter had said. Protects you from unbearablegrief. Now feeling was beginning to return, and it was like freezing cold hands beginning to thaw. His brain throbbed, confusion reigned, and he wondered again if he should retire. He had a few years to go, but his pension would be adequate, and he’d put a bit by for a rainy day. His wife had insisted on that, but now she’d not get the benefit. He sighed deeply. How many times had he wished he was a single man? His wife had not been easy to live with, but they’d been married for so long, he had no real picture of life without her.
    Now he was thinking about Lois, and the old surge returned. She had been nice to him that day in the café, and when he remembered her sympathetic smile he realized it was the sharp-tongued Lois that attracted him. Masochism? He thought not. Although she could be brusque to the point of rudeness, there was always warmth behind it, and it was warmth that had vanished from his marriage. He decided to go over to Long Farnden and hope to see her. The whereabouts of Herbert Everitt was still a mystery, although his boys had been working hard on it. Nor had he had any luck tracing the man who employed Lois, Reg Abthorpe. Cowgill was aware that he had not treated the case with any urgency. In the first place, he could see no hard evidence for disbelieving the retirement-home story, and second, he had not been functioning as he should. But all the usual avenues had been explored, and so far nothing had turned up. Still, sooner or later Abthorpe would be flushed out, and the old man found. Meanwhile, he would try to see Lois. She might have made some progress. He hoped she had forgotten about pitying the bereaved.
    I N THE VILLAGE SHOP , F LOSS P ICKERING WAITED PA tiently to be served. It was lunchtime and a number of customers had rushed in to buy sandwiches and filled rolls. She was last in the queue, and Josie smiled at her. “Hi, Floss,” she said. “Hope you don’t mind me using your nickname. I know you work for Mum. Enjoying it?”
    “Floss is fine,” the girl said. “Anything’s better than Florence. My grandmother was Florence, and so I have to suffer! And yes, I love working for New Brooms.”
    “What can I get you?” A couple of stamps, I expect, Josie thought. But she was wrong.
    “I want a present for someone. I know you have those expensive Belgian chocolates, and he’s got a very sweet tooth.”
    “
He’s
a very sweet lad,” laughed Josie, “if your someone is Ben Cullen from Blackberry Close. Yep, I’ve got a new lot in. Here we are.”
    “How did you know about me and Ben?” Floss looked alarmed. If Dad knew she’d been up in the woods with a boy and had seen something mysterious, he’d be apoplectic.
    “Shopkeepers know everything,” Josie replied. “It’s like a clearing house for gossip in here. Nothing escapes my notice, but I’m the soul of discretion. So you needn’t worry.