A Place Of Safety(35)

So, where did that leave Lionel Lawrence? The chief inspector decided to find out more about the man. For instance, did the Lawrences have children? If the answer was no, this might be the reason he so consistently offered sanctuary to the young. (Didn’t someone mention a girl who had run away?) Had he always been in the Church? Was this his first marriage? If so, how did he live before it took place? And did this warm bath of unreasoned sentiment he was presently wallowing in ever splash over to console the plain, the middle-aged or elderly of either sex? And if not, why not?

The DCI’s attention was rudely catapulted back to the present when Sergeant Troy honked furiously and jerked his head towards a man with a red setter. Both were patiently waiting to cross the road and did so with understandable speed while Troy, still seething at the repulsive tableau he had just witnessed, violently revved the engine.





As the policemen left the village, they passed Evadne Pleat’s Morris Minor coupé just turning into Tall Trees Lane. She trundled inch by inch down the narrow space, crushing thistles and nettles and getting various sticky bits and assorted fungi attached to the wheels. She tried not to think about reversing back up.

Many would think it the height of foolishness to have driven down in the first place but Evadne had a precious cargo that could not safely be otherwise transported. Hetty Leathers and Candy were in the back. Hetty held the dog in her arms. She could not bear the thought of shutting her away in a box or basket after what she had suffered. And carrying her down the lane, however carefully, would still involve the risk of stumbling, maybe even falling, and dropping her precious burden.

Evadne parked directly outside the cottage and Hetty passed over the key. When the front door was unlocked she climbed out very, very carefully.

Both women stood inside the kitchen smiling at each other. Hetty was reluctant to let go of the dog and eventually sat down by the Rayburn with Candy on her lap while Evadne made them all some tea.

‘Do you think she’ll be able to get in and out of her basket?’

‘Not really,’ replied Evadne. ‘I think it will be easier to just put a cushion on the floor.’

They both studied the dog who lay awkwardly on her back gazing up at Hetty. Her back leg was in plaster and stuck straight up in the air. The wound on her head and the tattered ear had been extensively stitched and she wore a deep, stiff white collar to stop her scratching. Her ribs were tightly bound with an elastic bandage. Hetty thought she looked quite comical, in a quaint, dog Toby sort of way. Hetty could afford that sort of frivolous observation now that she knew Candy would survive.

‘Is . . . um . . .’ Evadne lowered her nose into a canister celebrating the Queen and Prince Philip’s Silver Wedding. It held some very black, powerfully pungent dusty stuff. She sniffed daintily, recoiling in disbelief. ‘Is this . . .?’

‘That’s it,’ said Hetty cheerfully. ‘One each and one for the pot.’

‘Right ho.’ Evadne added boiling water, unhooked two jolly Tower of London mugs from a pine stand and looked around for a strainer.

‘You have to wait for it to brew, Evadne. At least five minutes.’

‘This will be fine for me.’

Evadne poured half a mug for herself, waited until Hetty gave the nod then poured her friend’s drink. Inky black with a lot of milk and two large sugars.

‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

‘Beautiful.’ Hetty took a long swig. ‘Tea you could trot a mouse on, as my dad used to say.’

Evadne had a happy moment picturing the mouse skating back and forth across the surface of Hetty’s drink, its arms folded neatly behind its back, then sat down and attempted to stroke Candy. But so little of the dog was exposed she had to settle for gently patting her nose.

‘Will you be all right now?’ Evadne meant both of them, which Hetty immediately understood.

‘We will. You’ve been so kind.’

‘Nonsense.’ Evadne gruffly dismissed the idea of being kind as genuinely kind people always do. ‘Well, I’d better get back to my family.’

Hetty decided to walk Evadne to the gate. But she was no sooner out of Candy’s sight than the dog started to softly howl. Awful, whimpering cries that smote both women to the heart. Hetty turned back.

‘She’s frightened,’ said Evadne. ‘You won’t be able to leave her alone for a while. Will you be able to manage?’

‘Yes. Pauline can help with the shopping.’

‘I’ll call round tomorrow.’

But the door was already closing. Evadne regarded her Morris coupé uncertainly. It seemed as fastly stuck between hedge and hedge as a cork in a bottle. She could not imagine how on earth she ever drove down there and plainly it was out of the question for her to reverse back up. Help was needed.