Scandal at Six(91)
“I suppose it’s good news,” he said. “But what do you think he meant?”
“It’s obvious! He meant the bees, and was telling us they’re killer bees. Ted’s looked them up in our encyclopaedia. They come from Africa, and they’re deadly if they sting you! All you can do is run, and even then they can follow you!”
“Oh my God, what do we do now?”
“I should leave them in the pigsty until we find out who they’re for; then whoever it is will have to collect. As long as they’re shut in, we’re all right.”
“Well, the pigsty has only got the bottom half of a door, and that’s bolted. But the top half must have gone years ago. It is really cold tonight, so I’m sure they’re either dead or fast asleep. Anyway, I’ve fixed a tarpaulin tacked down temporarily over the open top half, and I’ll see what I can do tomorrow to fix it properly.”
“We could ask the pest control people to help.”
“They’d just take them away. There’s probably a lot of money resting on this consignment.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Justin! They’re killer bees. We don’t want a death on our hands, do we?”
He did not answer. Then he coughed, and said he had to go, but he’d be in touch tomorrow to reassure her. She said goodbye, but felt that somehow the danger was still lurking.
*
Next morning, Lois was awake early. She had had a nightmare about Josie held in the hand of a large gorilla standing on top of St. Martin’s steeple. Unable to free herself from a sea of treacle covering the ground beneath, she had fought her way out of sleep and lay awake sweating and trembling. The terror had remained with her, and she decided the only thing to do was to go down to the shop and make sure Josie was fine.
“I’ll not be long, Mum,” she said. “If Derek rings, tell him where I am. He’s gone into Tresham for supplies.”
“I don’t know why you have to go traipsing down to the shop so early, getting in Josie’s way?”
“I shan’t be long,” Lois repeated. “I’ll take Jeems, and then carry on for a bit to give her some exercise.”
Josie was at her usual chore, sorting out the newspapers, and was surprised to see her mother so early.
“Nice to see you, Mum,” she said. “Though I hope it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.”
“No, no. Just getting some fresh air and exercise with my dog. Everything all right with you? Are the bees safely buzzing?”
“Dunno, really. I haven’t had time to have a look. I know Justin went down there with a piece of tarpaulin Derek found for him to cover the top half of the door. Apparently he wants to keep them shut in until he gets some instructions from the zoo.”
“Right-o then. I’ll be on my way. So long as you’re all right.”
After she had gone, Josie was puzzled. Her mother did not usually pay early morning calls without some good reason for doing so. And why did she keep on asking if I was all right? “Does she know something I don’t?” she said aloud. “If so, what?”
The next customer was even more of a surprise. A woman who announced herself as Betsy Brierley came in, and asked if Josie knew where Justin was. Apparently he was not answering his phone or his mobile.
“I expect he’s still asleep,” Josie said, trying to remember what she had heard about Betsy Brierley. “He was out the back, working on the pigsty door last evening. My gran walked by on her way back from seeing her friend Joan, and heard him banging away down there! Can I help at all?” Like selling you an expensive box of chocolates, she thought. I’m not here as an unpaid assistant to my tenant.
Betsy shook her head. “No thanks. Sorry to trouble you. I’ll catch up with him later. I’m on my way to the hospital. They asked me to go in urgently, and I need to tell Justin. Thanks, anyway.”
Josie shook her head, trying to make some sense of this. She remembered Betsy’s association with Robert Pettison, who was still in hospital after a humiliating shock. Everybody knew that, from the local papers.
A van drew up outside, with deliveries for the shop, and Josie put all else from her mind as they unloaded the heavy boxes.
Meanwhile, Betsy drove into town and circled round and round trying to find a place to park near the private wing. It was a bad time of day, she supposed, all part of the morning rush. Finally, she parked under a tree, which dripped heavily onto her car roof. Not a good start, she decided, and made her way to reception, where she was directed to the private wing. She was greeted by a woman washing the corridor with mop and pail. “He’s not up yet, dear,” she said. “Ask at the office this end. They’ll help. Most of the nurses will be in the office doing the changeover. Night staff going off; day lot coming in. Busy time of day. Do they know you’re here? It’s not visiting time.”