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Authors: Jonathan Gash

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BOOK: The Grace in Older Women
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Not long after I hit the lane, I saw a small motor, very like the
Dewhursts' Morris, trundle past towards the hotel. I'd dived for cover,
mistrusting any vehicle on this lonely lane. I'd gone maybe a couple of miles
further when I heard the same decrepit engine coughing slowly up behind me. I
ducked aside, just as I smelt cigarette smoke. Two faint red glows showed
ahead, very close. I stilled.

The motor halted with a squeal of worn brakes. It was the Dewhurst
sisters. I could see their outline in the dashboard sheen. Their headlights illuminated
two of Sheehan's hoods standing smoking beside their huge hunched saloon.

'Did you go to the hotel?' they called.

‘Yes.' Priscilla's voice. 'There's such trouble! They were calling
for everybody. They've seen somebody running across the fields. I do think the
farmers will be cross, if their crops are damaged.'

The hoods talked together. One got into the saloon.

'If you join the hunt.' Priscilla said, 'would you please leave Mrs.
Roberta a message? The Misses Dewhurst are rather tired and shall ring her in
the morning. Would you do that, please?'

'Right, love,' in a voice that said some hopes.

They gunned the motor, screeched in a tight one-eighty. I watched
their lights recede. The Morris chugged into the layby. Its engine cut.

I waited, thinking, a trap? But their headlights stayed on. Why?
Then suddenly the interior light came on. They spoke quietly to each other,
then Philadora stepped out, climbed into the back seat. They sat. I watched
from the hedgerow.

Then Priscilla wound her window down, and called softly into the
night, 'It's safe, Lovejoy.’

The interior light went off. The headlights dowsed.

Frightened, I slipped close, got in, sinking to the floor in a
ball. She clicked her headlights on, and drove off without a word.

 

36

The alleyway behind the Lorelei shop was the place for illicit
snoggers after dark. I told Priscilla to drive down it, headlights searching
out rutting witnesses. Then return, alight, open the back door of the Lorelei
Delicatessen, and enter leaving the door open for me to nip from the motor and
slip inside.

Once in, to my astonishment they were jubilant, squealing with
laughter as though they'd won some unimaginable prize.

'Shush, for God's sake!' Maudie Laud's peelers might come
hang-gliding by any second. I didn't want them finding us celebrating, having
maimed Geake and pulled off a robbery.

'But you're safe, Lovejoy!' they said, eyes wide.

They saw my gloom. 'Find me a hiding place, love.' I addressed
Priscilla, the leader. 'They'll come with a search warrant.'

'Heavens!' Priscilla was delighted, breathing wonderment. 'This,
Philadora, is
real life
!’

'Oh, Priscilla! Our opportunity, at last!'

They applauded. I felt out of it, another wrong guess.

'Lovejoy. Tonight you shall rest, while we construct a priest
hole! Like the Roundheads and Cavaliers!'

'Then tomorrow, Lovejoy,' Philadora said with a gentle blush,
askance,
'our plan
.'

'The future imperative!' from Priscilla.

Eh? 'Right, loves. And ta for the rescue.'

'Rescue!’
they shrieked. I had
to shush the silly pair.

With the doors locked, they rushed about, showing me their flat
above the tea shop, the side room where I would sleep. It was self-contained, a
loo, basin, bed that let down. They provided a nightshirt, colouring as they
offered it. I vaguely wondered if they had many gentleman visitors, but
dutifully had a bath, noshed their
 
hot
grub, drank their tea, and was asleep in seconds. They were real planners, that
was for sure.

And I dreamt a dream like Genseric the Most Terrible's, all
seeming benign - at first. I dreamt I heard Priscilla saying, 'We did right,
Philadora.'

And Philadora the Most Timid saying, 'Really, Prissy?'

'He has come to us as we predicted all these years.'

'Oh, yes! And we must be resolute!'

They advanced on me, slowly looming larger. . . and I woke with a
scream in my throat.

Empty. The room was empty. I drank some water, mopped sweat from
my body, and slept the sleep of the just.

 

Next day, they knocked and entered, solemn. I sat, had the
breakfast they'd brought, asked for more - they had it all ready in some
contrivance. They perched far as possible from me, for a while shyly averting
their eyes from my naked torso. In ancient days, kings allowed their subjects
to file past and watch them nosh. I felt a bit self-conscious.

'Thank you, partners,' I said simply. 'Say when I've to go.'

'Mr. Geake is dead,' Priscilla said. 'Heaven rest him.'

So Holly had guessed with unerring precision.

'Fell down the conservatory staircase,' from Philly.

The police are interviewing the antiques dealers.'

'The . . . whifflers,' Philadora brought the word out proudly,
'caught a girl called Holly. A vagrant, Lovejoy.'

I listened, watching their faces, to and fro like Wimbledon.

'She aimed to
doss down
in the hotel but saw nothing.'

Good old Holly. My exhalation might have been a giveaway to anyone
else. But what did these know except their zodiac?

'We perpetrated a deception, Lovejoy,' Priscilla composed herself,
'by telephoning the police at regular intervals during the night, asking for
your whereabouts.'

'Partners, after all!' squeaked Philadora. 'They knew nothing.’

‘I’d better be going, then.'

They shook their heads. 'The police are seeking Mr. Dill.'

'The Americans have decided to stay in East Anglia, Lovejoy. And
become antique dealers.'

Rivals, or yet more partners? I wondered.

'With a golf club, in Fenstone.' Priscilla said cheerfully, 'Dame
Millicent's land.'

'No obstacles, like Mr. Geake, RIP?'

'Father Jay has vanished, they think abroad. With Juliana.'

A reformed character, then. Brand plucked from the burning. Better
marry than burn, some holy fraud said. Good old Juliana.

'So I'm in the clear?' I cried, ecstatic. They smiled sadly.

'No. Everybody's after you, Lovejoy.'

'But,' Philadora said patiently, 'we have the Seurat painting, the
Thangliena diaries, and sundrys. The ones you made us bid for. In store.'

'Brilliant!' I cried. These were partners worth having.

'For a consideration, we will unite forces, Lovejoy.'

'Really?'
They
trying to
do a deal with
me
?

'There's a meeting here in a few minutes, Lovejoy.' Miss Priscilla
coloured a little. They rose. 'We suggest you bath and dress. Your linen's
washed. You might care to listen. You will not be seen.'

Ten minutes, I was clean, sitting on the stairs like Christopher
Robin. The tearoom door kept pinging as visitors arrived. Miss Philly served
tea, coffee. Conversation was only about the auction.

'All the money will be in by weekend,' Chemise said eventually,
down to hard facts.

'Can it be cleared without Lovejoy?' Mahleen homed in.

'It sure can!' from Wilmore. Hilda and Nadette agreed.

'I saved Lovejoy's life,' said Holly. 'He owes me.' She should
have been in Norwich. See how unreliable birds are?

'He is our partner,' from Priscilla. 'He owes us more than anyone.'
Which was a bit much, seeing I'd been born in the right hour, proving their
stupid Obverse Zodiac. 'My sister and I have promised a substantial reward to
the newspapers. That is why we asked Miss Laud to attend.'

'Which is?' said Maudie Laud. I almost yelped. This was getting
hairy, the chief peeler downstairs.

'Ten thousand pounds, for information leading to the safe return
of Lovejoy to his cottage.'

There were murmurs of appreciation. 'We have advised the media,
television,' said Philadora proudly. 'We are solely interested in rescuing the
poor lamb from his loneliness. He might be on a ferry to the Hook of Holland,
anywhere!'

'Maud,' said Mahleen earnestly, 'no charges will be brought
against Lovejoy or those who contributed to the auction?'

'No.' Maudie spoke with reluctance. 'I've seen the printed list.
AH items were listed as forgeries, fakes. Perfectly legal. We would like to
have Lovejoy's statement as soon as possible, though. There's an antique stolen
from Dame Millicent. He might also clarify events leading to Mr. Geake's
accident. And explain some details of Father Jay and Miss Witherspoon.'

There was talk about what might have happened, how the Sheehan
hoods were all making statements down at the police nick. I smiled wrily. Those
summaries would be useless. Good old Dame Millicent, though, bilking the
insurance companies by pretending her fake Danish mock-up was antique. I
couldn't wait for them to leave, and almost shouted with joy when the door
pinged shut behind the last of them. I was upstairs getting my coat on when the
Dewhurst sisters followed me.

'Lovejoy.' They stood like a deputation, hands folded uncertainly.
Except they weren't all that uncertain.

'Ladies,' I said fervently. 'Ta. I'll be off -

'No.' Priscilla was between me and the door. 'You stay here. With
us. In a state of . . .'It was her timid sister who astonishingly brought the
word out.

'Cohabitation, Lovejoy.'

They were both red as fire, meeting my gape with difficulty.

'Eh?' I kept my smile on, puzzled. 'Stay here?'

'It is impossible for you to leave, Lovejoy.' Priscilla pointed to
the window. 'Miss Laud has a constant police watch on our tea shop. Since you
are already inside, you will be safe until you try to leave.'

'And Chemise is residing at your cottage.'

'And Mahleen has filed for divorce, to marry you.'

'And Roberta, forward hussy, has similar designs.'

'And Sabrina has taken out a summons against you for robbery. Silverware.'

'And Beth has done the same. Bilston enamels.'

'And Holly, who is impudently young -'

'And -'

'Listen.' I finally made it. 'This cohabitation thing. It's
impossible. For a start -

The teashop door went ping. I felt myself pale.

'A moment, Lovejoy.' As I frantically tried to stop her, Priscilla
went to the top of the stairs and called, 'Would you care to come up, please?'

A heavy tread sounded. The ultimate deterent, Big John Sheehan,
stood there. He looked pleased to see me.

'Look, John,' I said. My knees gave. I sat on the bed. 'I made
Tinker nick the pantechnicon, sure. Because -'

'Because the Stubbs inside was a copy? I know, Lovejoy.'

'You knew?' I got narked at that, otherwise I wouldn't have come
straight out with it. 'John. You're no divvy. Only the one who -'

'Ladies.' They scuttled downstairs. 'I couldn't let somebody steal
it. Not after I'd put a preserver on it.'

'You swapped it for a dud, which Nick, er, nicked for Ashley?' Big
John's honour was intact among us thieves. 'But that's . . .' Unfair,
treachery, repulsively devious. He was waiting. 'Great, John,' I finished.

'Can't have our honour betrayed, Lovejoy,' he said, dead serious.
'You stay here a fortnight, Lovejoy. I've fixed it with the ladies. Give me
time to clear things up.'

'Two weeks?' I bleated in protest. His head tilted. 'Er, fine. Ta,
John.'

'Tinker had the sense to take the van to my place in Aldeburgh.'
He tapped my chest. 'Any time you want rid of Tinker, tell me, Lovejoy. Good
old soldier, Tinker.'

'Right,' I called feebly after him, 'Ta again, John. Good luck
with that horse!'

And sank, trembling. I heard the downstairs door ping. The two
sisters came slowly upstairs.

'So you see, Lovejoy,' Priscilla said.

'Look, Miss Priscilla -'

'No, Lovejoy. Priscilla, please.' They exchanged glances.

A
fortnight
. I looked at
them. Cohabitation?

Priscilla spoke firmly. 'We are not exactly experienced, Lovejoy.
But since meeting you, we realize the time has come.'

'Has it?'

'For us, Love joy. And you. We have no . . . sexual understanding.'
She coloured, pressed on. '
You
are
our chance.'

'I am?' I'd edged back, behind the bed. 'Of what?'

'Of realization, Lovejoy. All our lives have been chaste. We see
that you and sin are
far more thrilling
."

Philadora put in, ‘You are ours, Lovejoy. The Obverse.'

Their frigging zodiac. I was sick of the damned thing. 'Look,' I
said, desperate. 'I made a mistake. My birthday's June -'

BOOK: The Grace in Older Women
8.2Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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