“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…”
FIVE
LOIS GOT UP EARLY ON SATURDAY MORNING, AND SEEING A cheerful blue sky and jolly clouds scudding across in the fresh wind, decided to take Jeems, her little white terrier, for a walk before breakfast. Gran would be up betimes, and with luck, would have bacon sizzling in the pan before she returned. Derek could be relied upon to be ready for the expedition well in time, as always.
One of Jeems’s favourite walks was down the lane to the village hall, with attendant good sniffs, and round the playing field, out beyond the football pitch and through a field to the Waltonby road, then back home through the High Street. Passing the shop, there was always a chance that Josie would see them and come out with a dog treat.
As they approached the village hall, Lois saw that she was not the only one up with the lark. Tony Dibson was there, his back bent over the grass, scratching away with a small garden fork. He straightened up when he saw her and said, “Morning, missus. Lovely morning. Best time of the day, this is. Not many people realise that these days. When I was a lad-”
Usually Lois loved to listen to his tales of the past, but this morning she had to keep going, and interrupted him with a question. “What on earth are you doing there?” she asked.
“Cleaning up, as usual,” he said, his voice muffled as he returned to his scratching.
“What is there to clean up? I can’t see anything,” Lois said, frowning. Tony looked for all the world as if he was hiding something.
He straightened up, and held out his hand, palm up. Lois peered more closely, and saw two matches, unspent. “So?” she said. “Kids smoking substances again?” The rear of the village hall was a well-known haunt for a group of youths and girls to gather. The police periodically raided the spot, but the kids were a dab hand at melting into the night. So far, no serious damage had been done, except, of course, to themselves.