he hoped she was listening, as he gave her an edited version of the meeting’s reasonably pleasant beginning, and far from pleasant end.
“So anyway,” he said, “we all more or less agreed on Floss asking if she could go down there next week and talk to the kids, fill ’em in on what we’re planning, and see what their reaction is.”
Lois nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Sounds good,” she said. “And you could try one of you going down the Youth Club and asking the kids what they think.”
Derek marched across the room to the television set, stood in front of it, and told Lois that she hadn’t listened to a word he’d said, and if she wasn’t interested, he might as well save his breath.
Gran, who up to that moment had kept silent, roared with laughter. “You tell her, Derek!” she said.
Lois’s face was stony. She reached for the remote control, and with great solemnity switched off the set. She turned to Derek. “I do apologise, Mr. Chairman,” she said. “I wonder if you’d mind repeating what you just said.”
“Bollocks!” said Derek, and asked if anyone wanted a coffee, because he was parched with talking too much. He marched out of the room, and Lois hastily followed. As she went, she winked at Gran. “A little lovin’ will put it right,” she said, and shut the door behind her.
When they returned with coffee all round, Gran could see equilibrium had been restored. She decided to take up where Derek had left off, and asked why the meeting had ended unpleasantly.
“Yeah.” Lois nodded. “Did Father Rodney suggest an evenin’ of lap dancing, or what?”
Derek gave her a warning look, and said it happened after the meeting had closed and they were all walking through the village together, having agreed that a pint in the pub would be a good idea. “Then Hazel stopped dead in the middle of the road, and said she could smell smoke.”
“What, a chimney on fire?” said Gran.
Derek shook his head. “No. At first none of the rest of us could smell it, but then Floss said she could, and it smelled like petrol or something oily.”
Lois sat up straight, all attention. “So what was it? Did you investigate? We haven’t heard no fire engines, have we, Gran?”
“Guess,” Derek said flatly.
“The village hall,” Lois said. “Go on.”
“Well, we all rushed round there, and we could see smoke. Not much, but then Gavin found a bit of smoldering wood shoved in under the porch. You know that wooden roof bit, where it shelters the main door. He grabbed it out, and stamped on it. We could all smell the petrol smell then, and went round the whole building to make sure there weren’t no more places where it’d been fired.”
“So you told the police?” Lois said.
Derek shook his head. “No point in getting them this late,” he said. “We agreed I’d phone them in the morning and report it. In fact,” he added, with a look at Lois, “I thought our own village sleuth might like to talk to her cop. You can’t beat going right to the top, as I told the rest.”
There was silence for a minute or two, and then Lois said quietly that she would be pleased to give Inspector Cowgill a ring, especially as she knew the police were aware of the previous attempt on the village hall.
“Did the others have any idea who might have done it?” she asked Derek.
“Well, Gavin Adstone was full of possible suspects, mostly gypsies and passing tramps, but mainly the others seemed to think it was the kids who meet up round the back of the hall. Tony Dibson said he reckoned the new woman in Pickerings’ house has a teenage tearaway who’s been in trouble before.”
“Jack Jr.,” said Lois, with a sigh. “Young Jack Hickson. His mum, Paula, is coming to work for me. She’s joining the team. And yes, I’ve heard she’s had one or two problems with her son Jack.”
Derek groaned, and Gran nodded in sympathy. “So we’re right in it, Lois, once more,” he
“So anyway,” he said, “we all more or less agreed on Floss asking if she could go down there next week and talk to the kids, fill ’em in on what we’re planning, and see what their reaction is.”
Lois nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Sounds good,” she said. “And you could try one of you going down the Youth Club and asking the kids what they think.”
Derek marched across the room to the television set, stood in front of it, and told Lois that she hadn’t listened to a word he’d said, and if she wasn’t interested, he might as well save his breath.
Gran, who up to that moment had kept silent, roared with laughter. “You tell her, Derek!” she said.
Lois’s face was stony. She reached for the remote control, and with great solemnity switched off the set. She turned to Derek. “I do apologise, Mr. Chairman,” she said. “I wonder if you’d mind repeating what you just said.”
“Bollocks!” said Derek, and asked if anyone wanted a coffee, because he was parched with talking too much. He marched out of the room, and Lois hastily followed. As she went, she winked at Gran. “A little lovin’ will put it right,” she said, and shut the door behind her.
When they returned with coffee all round, Gran could see equilibrium had been restored. She decided to take up where Derek had left off, and asked why the meeting had ended unpleasantly.
“Yeah.” Lois nodded. “Did Father Rodney suggest an evenin’ of lap dancing, or what?”
Derek gave her a warning look, and said it happened after the meeting had closed and they were all walking through the village together, having agreed that a pint in the pub would be a good idea. “Then Hazel stopped dead in the middle of the road, and said she could smell smoke.”
“What, a chimney on fire?” said Gran.
Derek shook his head. “No. At first none of the rest of us could smell it, but then Floss said she could, and it smelled like petrol or something oily.”
Lois sat up straight, all attention. “So what was it? Did you investigate? We haven’t heard no fire engines, have we, Gran?”
“Guess,” Derek said flatly.
“The village hall,” Lois said. “Go on.”
“Well, we all rushed round there, and we could see smoke. Not much, but then Gavin found a bit of smoldering wood shoved in under the porch. You know that wooden roof bit, where it shelters the main door. He grabbed it out, and stamped on it. We could all smell the petrol smell then, and went round the whole building to make sure there weren’t no more places where it’d been fired.”
“So you told the police?” Lois said.
Derek shook his head. “No point in getting them this late,” he said. “We agreed I’d phone them in the morning and report it. In fact,” he added, with a look at Lois, “I thought our own village sleuth might like to talk to her cop. You can’t beat going right to the top, as I told the rest.”
There was silence for a minute or two, and then Lois said quietly that she would be pleased to give Inspector Cowgill a ring, especially as she knew the police were aware of the previous attempt on the village hall.
“Did the others have any idea who might have done it?” she asked Derek.
“Well, Gavin Adstone was full of possible suspects, mostly gypsies and passing tramps, but mainly the others seemed to think it was the kids who meet up round the back of the hall. Tony Dibson said he reckoned the new woman in Pickerings’ house has a teenage tearaway who’s been in trouble before.”
“Jack Jr.,” said Lois, with a sigh. “Young Jack Hickson. His mum, Paula, is coming to work for me. She’s joining the team. And yes, I’ve heard she’s had one or two problems with her son Jack.”
Derek groaned, and Gran nodded in sympathy. “So we’re right in it, Lois, once more,” he
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