Scandal at Six(92)

“I was phoned,” Betsy said crossly. “Urgent, they said.”

“You go and knock on the office door. They’ll send someone.”

Finally, Betsy found the office, braved the scowling staff as she knocked at the door, and explained.

“Oh yes, that’ll be Nurse Brown. I’ll tell her. Wait there.” The door was closed, and Betsy was about to walk away and go straight home, when it opened again and a familiar nurse came out.

“Ah, Mrs Brierley,” she said. “It was concerning Mr Pettison. Earlier on, he seemed restless, and we caught some sounds from him. The only thing we could make out was ‘killers,’ and as this seemed to upset him, we thought perhaps you could shed some light? Perhaps have another session and hope he explains? It’s an odd word, isn’t it, under the circumstances?”

Betsy sighed, and said yes, very odd. But she had an idea what he meant. She would go and sit with him for a bit, and see if he said anything else. “And you couldn’t rustle up a coffee for me, could you?” she added.

“There’s a machine in reception,” the nurse said unhelpfully, and returned to the office, shutting the door firmly in Betsy’s face.

“Sod that for a bunch of soldiers,” Betsy said, and marched off, her high heels clacking noisily along the empty corridor leading to the private rooms. She sat with Pettison for half an hour, and he didn’t move. Nor did he say anything more, and Betsy finally gave up and left.

When she reached home, Ted was still there, and had not yet gone to work at the gas company’s showrooms.

“What’s the matter with you?” she said grumpily.

“Got the morning off. Not required. It’s the beginning of the end, probably. There’s not enough orders to keep us all busy. Short time, and then the chop. That’ll be me. Helping at the occasional funeral doesn’t make enough to buy a couple of pints. And you’re not in work yourself at the moment. There was a call for you, by the way. From one of your old regulars. We might need some of them if Pettison doesn’t make the grade. Mind you, if he no longer wants you, we can get back to the old days with plenty of customers. More lucrative in the long run. It’s not all bad news, Betsy. Meanwhile, I think I’ll go down into the shed and eat worms.”

He pretended to lick his lips. Betsy frowned and turned away from him.

“Oh, and talking of worms,” he continued, “I suppose I might do a bit more for the undertakers. They were on to me lately, to do more hours, heaving coffins and escorting them into the church an’ that. I’ve got the gear, so might have a go. The pay is rotten, but they’re advertising for suitable men, and it’d be better than eating worms, don’t you think?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” said Betsy. “I’ve had about enough this morning, and it’s only half past ten. Please leave me be. No, make me a coffee, and then leave me be.”



*



By eleven, at the Farnden shop, Josie had had a stream of customers. Apparently the word had got round that a hive of bees had been delivered, and the neighbours were either worried or curious. Several other villagers had honeybees, and they all belonged to a society with its headquarters in Tresham. The people who lived right next door to the shop were very worried.

“My Sid is allergic to bee stings,” a neighbour had said to Josie. “I do hope you know how to handle them,” she had insisted. Josie had replied that they belonged to the tenant in the flat, and he had assured her that they would not be there for long, and, in any case, he knew all about bees.

The day passed quickly, and Lois had rung Josie several times, ostensibly for good reasons, but really because she could not shake off the nightmare. Finally, she rang the shop once more and asked if Justin was there, and if so, could Josie give her his number as she wanted to ask him something important.

“To do with bees?” Josie said. “Because if so, I can tell you what I’ve told everyone else. They’re not here for long, and he knows how to deal with them. Will that do?”

“No. I’d like his mobile number, please. I expect you gave it to me before, but I’ve lost it.”

Josie sighed, looked up the number, and gave it to her mother. “I’m shutting up shop soon, so if you need me, I’ll be back at the cottage. Bye, Mum. And I really am all right,” she said. “Give my love to Dad.”

After a minute or two, she heard the phone ringing in the flat above. It rang for quite some time, and then stopped. Josie went out to the back of the shop and looked for the Fiat. It wasn’t there, so Justin must be out somewhere. She looked down to the end of the garden and hesitated. Then she shook her head, went back into the shop and locked up.