Threats at Three by Ann Purser Page A

saving the world.”
    “And apart from him?” Lois said, laughing at the pair of them.
    “The Hickson woman. Paula, did you say, Lois? There she was, her tribe all washed and brushed and fidgeting in the pew at the back.”
    “Including Jack Jr.?” Lois said.
    “If you mean that unprepossessing teenager with a hood permanently over his spotty face, yes, he was there, too. Sat staring at his feet most of the time.”
    “How could you see them, Mum?” Lois said. “If they were at the back, and you were in usual place up front, you must’ve been screwing your head round most of the service.” And I bet you weren’t the only one, she added to herself.
    Gran ignored the question, and went on to say how Father Rodney was all over them in the church porch. “Poor woman looked really uncomfortable. That’s the trouble with modern vicars. They try too hard. Puts people off, you know. Now, Lois, get me the milk from the fridge. Time I made the Yorkshire batter. Josie’s coming up for dinner, isn’t she?”
    “Yep,” Lois said. “And she’s bringing a policeman with her.” Derek said, tongue in cheek, that the police had heard that a certain Mrs. Weedon had been seen with petrol can and matches having a go at the village hall, and were wanting to talk to her.
    Gran, who was also Mrs. Weedon, menaced him with a dripping spoon. “That’s enough of that, Derek Meade,” she said. “Quite enough. I know perfectly well that Josie’s policeman is Matthew Vickers, an’ he’ll be off duty, bless him. We must make him really welcome,” she added, and then, remembering her strictures about vicars trying too hard, she resolved not to do the same with a possible grandson-in-law.

FIFTEEN

    T HE SCHOOL BUS STOPPED OUTSIDE THE SHOP, AND JOSIE watched as the little crowd of variously clad pupils climbed aboard. Jack Hickson was still hovering over the magazines, and Josie walked over to him.
    “The bus won’t wait, Jack,” she said. “Go on, run for it.”
    He stared at her, and the lack of expression in his almost black eyes made her feel uncomfortable. “Mind yer own business,” he said insolently. She opened her mouth to tell him he would not be welcome in the shop anymore. She had had enough of his cheek. But he was out of the door and into the bus like a scared rabbit. Except that he was not scared.
    Josie turned back to the counter. Should she report him to his mother? But the poor woman had enough to worry about, and in any case, knew all about her firstborn. No doubt child experts would say he was a casualty of a violent father and a broken home. But the other children were perfectly polite, and certainly Mum seemed to think Paula was making a good job of bringing up a family on her own.
    Jack Jr. made his way to the rear of the bus, where his second-best mate, Jonathan, greeted him with a friendly shove. “Did you get it?” he said, and Jack shook his head. “Silly cow was watching too close,” he said. “I’ll have another go this afternoon, when we get off the bus. Works best if you wait till the shop’s full of kids, then she don’t know which way to look.”
    He pulled a dog-eared magazine out of his school bag and they both huddled over it, chortling at the lovely busty girls. “Why don’t she get tits like these?” Jack said, nodding his head towards a hollow-cheeked fourteen-year-old girl halfway down the bus. He hadn’t admitted it to his sophisticated friend, but he felt drawn to the girl, perhaps because she looked so unhappy.
    “Andorexia,” Jonathan said knowledgeably. “Don’t eat much. Can’t expect big tits without a few cream buns!” And they were off again into husky sniggers.
    As they stopped outside the school gates, Jack stuffed the magazine back into his bag and left the bus. A man stood by the gate, and Jack stopped abruptly, causing Jonathan to crash into him with loud expletives.
    “Hi, boy,” said the man. “Wanna come for a walk?”
    Jack shook his head, his face