‘There’s not much we can do for the moment, Sal. Except wait and see. One thing puzzles me, though. If Eddie’s got a problem, why hasn’t he been in touch?’
Fretting, Sam glanced at his watch again. It was after ten and still there was no sign of the client Mr Cuthbertson had asked him to meet. He and Sal had driven out here to Tillington earlier that morning; to a farm just this side of Petworth, which some prospective buyer was showing an interest in.
It was a side of the business Mr Cuthbertson normally dealt with himself, taking customers around properties. But that morning he’d had a dentist’s appointment: one he couldn’t postpone, either.
‘It’s a wisdom tooth, Sam, and it has to come out pronto.’ Mr Cuthbertson had rung him the previous evening, sounding strange on the phone, as if his tongue didn’t fit in his mouth. He said his jaw had gone up like a balloon. ‘Hitchens is the fellow’s name. I’d have put him off, but he’s coming all the way from Horsham, and bringing his wife with him, so she can look over the house. It sounds as though he’s ready to make an offer. I don’t want to discourage him.’
Sam had assured his employer it would be no trouble, though in fact going out to Tillington that morning was inconvenient, since he usually spent Tuesdays on the other side of Midhurst, visiting properties to the west of the town, including Coyne’s Farm.
But he could see there was no help for it and had already decided to adjust his afternoon’s itinerary when a new factor had arisen.
‘I do apologize for ringing you so early, Mr Watkin – I found your number in the book – but we’re a little worried about your friend Mr Noyes. Do you happen to know where he is?’
If Sam had been surprised to hear Mrs Ramsay’s voice on the telephone that morning, what she had to say during the next ten minutes had left him scratching his head in bafflement. It seemed Eddie had disappeared. What’s more he’d gone off without saying a word to anyone.
‘We were expecting to see him on Friday evening, but he never came, and that was strange because he knew we might have some good news for him. You see, Mr Ramsay has mentioned his name to a company he does business with in Chichester and he heard himself on Friday that they were interested in meeting Eddie and might even be able to offer him a job. We were so puzzled by his not appearing, Nell and I, that we walked up to Coyne’s Farm on Sunday. There was no sign of him there, and when Nell came back from school yesterday he wasn’t with the other men working on the road, so she walked back from the bus stop and spoke to the foreman, a Mr Harrigan, and he said Eddie hadn’t appeared for work that day and he didn’t know where he was.’
Mrs Ramsay had hardly drawn breath as she’d poured out her story, and Sam had been touched by her concern for his old pal. He did wonder, though, if she wasn’t making too much of the situation. It didn’t sound that serious to him.
‘The only explanation I can think of is that he went home for the weekend – to Hove, I mean – and the fact that he hasn’t come back suggests it might be because of some family emergency. Don’t you think that’s possible? But I want him to know about Chichester. It would mean so much to him if he could find a proper job. I was hoping you might know how to get in touch with him.’
Sam’s thoughts had been moving along similiar lines while she was speaking. But first he’d had to explain that he only had an address for Eddie in Hove. The Noyeses had had their telephone disconnected a while back to save money.
‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, though. I’ll send them a telegram. If Eddie’s there he’ll ring me at home. If not, then either his mother or sister might be able to help.’
He told her he was coming over to Coyne’s Farm later – after he’d finished with the Tillington job – and would let her know what he’d found out.
‘Would you, Mr Watkin? I’d be so grateful. I just feel worried about him, I don’t know why. I have to play bridge this afternoon, unfortunately, but Bess will be at the house. You could leave any message for me with her.’
Mrs Ramsay’s call had come just as Sam was leaving and he’d driven the extra mile or so into Petworth in order to send the telegram from the post office there. If Eddie, or his sister or mum, rang in the course of the morning, Ada would take the call.
The more he thought about it, though, the more it seemed likely that Mrs Ramsay was right. Eddie had gone home for some reason and been delayed there. While it was strange he hadn’t let the Ramsays know in advance, particularly in view of this Chichester business, he might well have had to leave in a hurry. To catch a bus or train, say.
What troubled Sam more was to hear that Eddie hadn’t bothered to inform Harrigan that he might not be turning up for work on Monday. That didn’t sound like him. It was clear he was going to have some explaining to do.
‘There might be a spot of bother over this,’ he advised Sal, who was lying behind him in the van on her bit of blanket. ‘But there’s not much we can do about it until we know what Eddie’s been up to.’
They were parked outside the gate leading into the farm so that he could keep an eye out for the client when he arrived. Last night had been chilly and thick fog had greeted him when he’d set out from home that morning. This Hitchens bloke would most likely be delayed himself coming over from Horsham and in this kind of weather might easily miss the gateway into the farm and go sailing past.
Sam blew on his fingers. He was wishing he’d come out with something warmer than the old corduroy jacket he was wearing. But then he cheered up at the thought that he’d be looking in at home on his way back to Midhurst later in case Ada had heard from Hove and could collect his overcoat before he went out again.
It was a cold day, and unless the fog cleared later, it would stay that way.