MUM? DOUGLAS HERE.” “Hi, son. What can I do for you?” Lois smiled broadly. If she allowed herself to have a favourite offspring, it would be Douglas. Her firstborn, he had been easy from the start. Even tempered and cheerful, he had lulled her into a sense of false security on the child upbringing front. When Josie came along, she was fretful, needing constant attention and yelling if she didn’t get it. Derek had said that girls were always more difficult, and what did she expect? Three stroppy generations of women, in his view. Gran, Lois and Josie. All dedicated to making his life difficult.
“It’s what we can do for you, for once,” Douglas said now. “Me and Susie and young Harry are going to the National Space Centre at Leicester on Sunday, and wondered if you and Dad would like to come along?”
“Isn’t Harry a bit young for the space centre?” Lois asked. She knew that Derek would jump at the idea, but you could hardly expect a one-year-old to take much interest in the wonders of rocket science.
“There’s something for all ages, it says in the leaflet. A mate of mine has been with his kids, and says its wonderful. D’you want to see what Dad says? You can ring me back. Got to go now. Big meeting.”
Lois put down the phone and shook her head with a smile. You don’t fool me, Douglas Meade, she said to herself. It’s like that supersize train set Harry had for his half birthday. Doug plays with it all the time, and it’ll be Doug who wants a simulated ride in a space capsule. Ah, well, why not? A family outing would be a nice distraction for Derek, already frowning with worry about how to raise at least twenty thousand pounds in a frighteningly short period.
AT AROUND THIS TIME, JOSIE MEADE, SHOPKEEPER AND OCCASIONAL helpmeet in her mother’s detecting activities, was thinking about babies. Here she was, living alone after her longtime partner had been killed, now more or less restored with the help of Mum’s cop’s nephew Matthew, but with a blank future in front of her. When she saw Matthew pulling up outside in the police car, she wondered if this was an omen. Would he make a good father? This was such a ridiculous thought that she laughed out loud, lifting Matthew’s spirits as he came into the shop.
Matthew Vickers had settled well into Tresham police force, and despite the fact that the chief detective inspector was his uncle, he had finally been absorbed and accepted by his colleagues. He had fallen in love with Josie Meade long before her partner died, and had tried a few forays to see how secure that relationship was. Then the disaster had happened and he had concentrated on being a solid comforting presence for her, nothing more. Her smiling face was a really good sign.
“What’s the joke, Josie?” he said, and blew her a kiss across the counter.
“Can’t tell you,” she said. “Except that I was wondering whether to give up the shop and go back to education as a mature student. I’m done with grieving, and have to think about the future.”
“You can’t!” he said. “What will Long Farnden do without you? The whole place would fall apart if you gave up the shop.”
“I could sell it. It’s doing really well now, and they say you should sell when a business is doing well, not when it’s on the slide.”
“Are you serious, Josie?”
“No. I love my shop and my village.” And maybe you, Matthew, just a little bit, she added to herself. “Now, are you investigating a crime? Or just calling for a packet of Polo mints?”
“Both,” he said. “But seriously, we’ve had an anonymous call, probably from the usual nutcase, suggesting there is a local conspiracy to burn down your village hall. The caller said he had seen a prowler with a can of petrol, and whoever it was ran off when he saw he was observed. Have you heard anything?”
“Good heavens, no! Sounds like someone with a fertile imagination. Seeing conspirators where there are only shadows! It is very dark around the village hall. We’ve got a big plan to renovate the old place and proper lighting is on the list.”
Matthew sighed. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said, “but we have to look into all these things. Wasting our time, usually. How are you doing? Want to come to the pictures tomorrow?”
“Since you ask me so politely, I accept with thanks,” she said. “What’s the film, anyway?”
“It’s a French film at the art cinema. Called I’ve Loved You for So Long.”
She stared at him. “Are you joking?” she said.
“Nope. Look in the local paper if you don’t believe me. I’ll pick you up about six?”
He turned and strode importantly from the shop to continue his quest for the phantom arsonist.
TWO MINUTES AFTER HE HAD GONE, THE TELEPHONE RANG. IT was Josie’s brother, Douglas. “Hi,” he said. “Busy?”
“Not at this moment, but any minute now an evil character will come in and demand protection money, so make it snappy.”
“Ho, ho,” said Douglas. “The thing is, I’m ringing to invite you to come along with us to the space centre on Saturday. Susie and Harry and me are spending the day there, and wondered if you would like to come along. Mum and Dad are coming, I hope.”
Josie frowned. There must be some hidden motive. A day at the space centre with screaming kids and frazzled parents was not her idea of fun, and surely Douglas would know that?
“Who else is coming?” she said, on a sudden inspiration.
“Well, actually, I ran into Matthew Vickers and happened to mention it, and he said he had always wanted to go, but would feel a bit of a nerd going on his own. Jumped at the chance of coming with us. So how do you feel?”
“Douglas, you are about as subtle as a steamroller,” Josie said. “But yes, I’d love to come, if only to see little Harry’s face when he sees his father blasted off into space.”
“Good. Be ready about ten o’clock, then. Gran said she’d be happy to fill in at the shop.”
“Wow! A family conspiracy!” Josie marvelled at Doug’s deviousness, and was not sure whether to be pleased or not. She knew they all thought she should clinch things with Matthew. He was clearly keen to settle down. He had a newly renovated cottage originally bought as a holiday place, but now he had announced his intention of staying in the area for as long as possible. He had made many friends, and being tall, dark and fairly handsome, had not been short of girl-friends. But he had made it quite clear in a man-to-man chat with Douglas that Josie was his first choice.
But was she ready for the big commitment, as emphasized in all the advice columns in the women’s magazines she sold in the shop? Before Rob had been killed, he had wanted her to marry him, and she had consistently refused, not being at all sure he was the one with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Ah, well, she would go along with the family plot and see what happened. After all, there was something very reassuring about being wooed by a policeman.
“Morning, Josie,” said Lois, breezing in with a couple of politically correct hessian bags over her arm. “We’ve run out of everything.” She handed Josie a list, and perched herself on the stool in front of the counter. As Josie moved round the shop, collecting up her mother’s favourite items, Lois said casually, “Have you heard about some idiot trying to set fire to the village hall? Are people talking about it?”
“By ‘people’ I suppose you mean my customers? As you know, I make it a rule not to gossip, and in any case I only just heard from Matthew that there had been a rumour from someone who thought they’d seen a sinister intruder with a barrel of gunpowder and a long fuse.”
“You may joke, miss,” Lois said seriously. “But it is apparently true. Someone else has come forwards now. Tony Dibson, who keeps the grass and paths around the village hall tidy. Says he found traces of petrol in several places around the edge of the hall. O’ course, if it was fired it’d go up like a tinderbox.”
“But why should anyone want to set fire to it? I thought we’d just decided to spend loads o’ money restoring it to its former glory?”
“Exactly,” Lois said. “As you know, Dad is heading the fund-raising committee, and he says that by no means does all the village agree with the project. Money could be spent more wisely, they say. Some want a new-built hall, regardless of cost.”
“Pie in the sky,” said Josie. “They’d never get the money. Especially now, when people are losing their jobs and money’s tight. Even charities are in the mire.”
“Yes, well, that may be so. But you must know by now, there’s some pretty rum customers in Farnden. I can think of one or two who could well take matters into their own hands.”
“Who?” said Josie. She knew her mother’s tendency to overdramatise, but at the same time she was often right, seeming to know things before anyone else did. “Who’ve you been talking to?” she added. “Has Hunter Cowgill been in touch again?”
He had, of course. But knowing Josie’s burgeoning relationship with Cowgill’s nephew, Lois decided to deny it. “Not yet,” she said. “But if there really is something in the rumour, no doubt he will be. So keep your ears open. Now, how much do I owe you?”
Josie took the money, thanked her mother, and held the door open for her as she left with two heavy bags. If only everyone was as loyal a shopper as Mum!
“See you Saturday, if not before!” she yelled, as Lois marched off up the road. “I’ve always wanted to go into space…”