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Authors: Marian Babson

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BOOK: Paws for Alarm
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‘Be very careful,' I warned as they picked up their dishes and filed into the living-room. ‘Don't you dare spill anything.'

My appetite whetted by the carefully-selected English programmes shown on WMUR-TV at home, I had been looking forward to an uninterrupted flow of intelligent presentations over here. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the kind of day when I could have used an interpreter. Even subtitles would have helped. It was as surreal as the Monty Python Show and not nearly so funny.

As we tuned in, the newscaster was talking about something called the Green Pound and the Common Market Agriculture Policy. Confusingly, this was followed by an item about supergrass. Just as I was trying to figure out whether this referred to a new Common Market agricultural product or a superior strain of marijuana, it slipped out that they were talking about some crook who'd given evidence against his former cohorts and had to be hidden away. Just the sort of thing happening with plea-bargaining and turning State's Evidence at home. What else is new?

The next item was an interview with someone who had lived to be one hundred but, unfortunately, had such a regional accent that any potentially useful tips were lost between the glottal stops and dropped consonants. This was followed by a report of a political speech in which one politician slandered and insulted an opposing politician in a manner which would have brought him a three-year sentence in an American court of law.

‘It's nice to see the old traditions of decent honest debate are being kept up,' I murmured sarcastically to Arnold.

‘Just look at him –' Arnold was shaking his head in disbelief at the commentator. ‘Absolutely deadpan. He doesn't see anything wrong in it.'

‘I have a feeling he's used to it.' I had already read a wide selection of English newspapers from varying ends of the social scale. Libel, calumny and character assassination seemed to be the order of the day. They probably got away with it because there wasn't room in the courts for them all to keep suing each other constantly.

The weather followed and that wasn't much better. According to the forecaster, we were going to have some sun, some rain, some cloud, some wind, and possibly some gales. He covered every contingency except an eclipse of the moon and the eruption of a new volcano in the middle of Bond Street. We stared at each other glumly as he wound up.

‘Did you get that?' Arnold asked uncertainly.

I looked out of the window. ‘I think we're safe if we bank on rain.' It was pouring out there.

‘I guess so.' He joined me at the window. We watched raindrops bouncing off the shiny pointed leaves of the holly hedge. ‘You still want to take the car out for a few practice runs? It's raining pretty hard.'

‘Arnold, I'm beginning to get the suspicion that, if we let the rain stop us, we'll never get anything done in this country.'

‘You could be right.'

‘Arnold, I'm always right.'

‘Left ... left ... look out – keep left!' Two days later, the kids were still at it. Like a Greek chorus, they burst into a warning chant every time we approached possible catastrophe. It was beginning to get on our nerves.

‘Stop! Stop! There's a red light!'

‘God damn it!' Arnold exploded. ‘I know what a red light means! It's the same in the States. Can't you kids shut up for five minutes?'

‘We're only trying to help,' Donna sulked.

‘You can help by keeping quiet.' I was firmly on Arnold's side, even though it was true that he had been a bit slow about braking. But the light had changed very suddenly and all the shouting from the back seat was enough to upset anybody's reflexes. Also the manual clutch
was
rather stiff, I'd had a bit of trouble with it myself.

The light changed and we moved forward and turned into the High Street.

‘Hey –' Arnold slowed and pointed to a crowd of people waiting at a bus stop. ‘Isn't that Hazel?'

‘Yes, it is!' I, too, was swept by the excitement of seeing a familiar face among so many strangers. ‘And she's loaded down with shopping.'

‘Hazel —' We pulled up at the kerb. Hop in. We'll give you a lift home.'

‘Oh, marvellous, but I hate to take you out of your way.'

‘We're in no hurry,' I assured her. Donald swung the back door open and she got in gratefully. You seem to be loaded down.'

‘I am – and I wasn't fancying that hill. It's a long climb from the bus stop.'

‘Look –' I said on impulse. ‘Why don't you come back with us and have tea? Then we'll run you home.'

‘Oh!' She gasped with shock. ‘I'm not sure I ought to. I mean – thank you, I think not. Not today. Please, I must get home. Here comes the bus. I'll just –' She reached for the door handle.

‘Nonsense!' Arnold slid the car into gear and we began moving. ‘We said we'd take you home and we will.'

‘It was just a thought.' I was obscurely offended. She hadn't seemed the type to get flustered easily and there was certainly no need for her to behave as though we'd begun making obscene suggestions. What was so unthinkable about coming back and having tea with us?

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Harper – Nancy –' she apologized. ‘It's just that – I'm expecting a telephone call.'

I might have believed it if there hadn't been such a note of bright invention in her voice. My children – they're at boarding school – are supposed to ring this afternoon. About their holidays. I must be home to take the call.'

‘That's okay,' I said. ‘Maybe another day.' See what kind of reaction that brought.

‘Oh, yes, of course. Some other day will be fine.'

I didn't believe a word of it. We nodded at each other and smiled falsely.

‘And you must come round to
me.
' That sounded more genuine. ‘Let's plan something definite soon.'

‘Fine,' Arnold said.

Abruptly, Hazel's face changed. We were negotiating a curve on the crest of a hill. She glanced out the window and shuddered.

‘Don't worry,' I said. ‘Arnold is really a very good driver.'

‘It isn't that –' She broke off, shook her head and made a hopeless gesture indicating that it was something she could never explain. Probably a touch of acrophobia.

‘You'll have to direct me from here,' Arnold told her. ‘We don't know our way yet.'

‘Of course.' She recovered smoothly and began giving directions crisply. We were really quite near and had pulled up in front of her house in next to no time.

‘Thank you so much.' She gathered up her multitudinous bags and parcels and got out quickly.

‘Think nothing of it,' Arnold said. ‘See you soon.'

We were back at our place and putting our shopping away when I discovered the unfamiliar parcel. I didn't remember buying anything of that shape and I unwrapped it curiously, half-suspecting that Arnold was trying to sneak some more cheese into the house.

‘Oh, no!' It was a pair of kidney lamb chops, obviously destined to be someone's supper — Hazel's  supper. She must have dropped them getting out of the car and the kids had found them on the floor and thought they were ours.

‘Don't worry about it.' Arnold took them from me and rewrapped them. ‘I'll run over and return them to her. It won't take long.'

As so often before, I had plenty of time to contemplate the difference between Arnold's definition of time and my own. The twins had eaten and were settled in front of the upstairs television and Arnold still hadn't returned.

I was just beginning to lose my temper when the telephone rang. I flew to answer it. ‘You'd better have a damned good explanation!' I snapped.

‘Hello?' It was a woman's voice. ‘Is that you, Nancy? This is Lania. Is anything wrong?'

‘Oh, no,' I said. ‘I was just expecting Arnold. What is it?'

‘I just wanted to remind you,' she said, ‘that it's your day for Mrs Thing tomorrow.'

‘Mrs Thing? My day?'

‘You
do
know, don't you? Didn't Rosemary tell you? I have Mrs Thing for two days a week and some of the other people around have her for one each. Rosemary – you – have her for one. If you want her, that is.'

‘Let me get this straight –' It sounded too good to be true. ‘You mean she comes and does all the housework for me?'

‘Well, perhaps not all. You have to watch her, you know. They'll all slack off if you give them the chance. And you pay her at the end of each day –' She named a sum that sounded very reasonable to me. ‘In cash, of course – it's all a fiddle with these people. But so long as you make it quite clear what you want done and supervise her, you ought to be all right. If you want her.'

‘Oh, I want her!' There was no doubt about that. One day a week sounded like heaven – I wouldn't have to do much work myself at that rate. ‘The only thing is, I won't be here tomorrow. We're all going up to London with Arnold and I'm taking the twins to the Tower and Madame Tussaud's and a few other tourist spots while Arnold does his research. Then we'll meet him again at the end of the day, have dinner in London, and come back on the late train.'

‘Quite a full day.' Lania sounded amused. ‘Would you like to put Mrs Thing off till another day, then?'

‘Oh, no, don't put her off! She can come anyway, can't she? She must have a key and know her way around the place. She'll know what needs to be done.'

‘Well, if you're willing to trust her ...'

‘Sure, I'll trust her.' I'd rather trust her than stand over her the way Lania seemed to think necessary. I'd be too embarrassed. ‘I'll leave the money on the kitchen table and she can do her cleaning and lock up when she leaves.'

‘Very well. If that will suit you, I'm sure it will suit her. I'll give her your instructions.'

‘Fine.' I felt I could depend on Lania to take a much tougher line with Mrs Thing than I ever could. We chatted a bit more and I was just hanging up when I heard Arnold's key in the lock.

‘Oh ...' I went out into the hall to meet him. ‘So you decided to come home? I thought you'd taken up residence over there.'

‘Sorry I'm late, honey, but I had a hard time getting away. First, she wanted me to have a drink, then she wanted to explain a few things so that we'd understand. I've got the whole story. Poor woman – she's had a rough time over the past few months.'

‘What
are
you talking about?' I pulled Arnold into the study and closed the door behind us, in case the kids got bored with watching television and decided to come downstairs. ‘What story? Come on – give.'

‘You know Celia told us her sister's husband had died in an automobile accident?'

I nodded.

‘Well, it turns out that Hazel was – indirectly – the cause of it. At least, she blames herself. What's worse, Rosemary Blake blames her, too. That's why she didn't want to come into this house. She knows Rosemary would hate to have her under this roof and she doesn't think she ought to take advantage of her absence.'

‘How can Hazel blame herself for John's accident?' But that explained her strange behaviour on the dangerous curve. It must have been that very curve -

‘Because if John hadn't gone over to her house to do her a favour, he wouldn't have met up with the accident. The lights had fused in her dining-room and he went over to fix them for her. He fixed the wiring okay and had a glass of sherry with her. Poor Hazel still feels guilty about that, but it couldn't have been enough to make any difference. He was driving home when he ran into some maniac on the crest of the hill. That is, the maniac ran into him. John went off the road, over the cliff – and that was that. Hazel can't forgive herself – and Rosemary can't forgive her, either. It sounds as though they had half the town lining up to take sides.'

‘No wonder Lania didn't want me to tell Rosemary that we'd met Hazel. Especially not that we met her at a dinner party next door!'

‘That's why, all right. In fact, I don't think we should admit we've even heard of Hazel if we ever meet Rosemary. Things would be easier that way.'

‘I won't even tell Patrick,' I decided. That way, it can never slip out. I wouldn't trust Celia not to snitch.'

‘And do you know what else I learned —?' Arnold's voice took on a note of wistful awe. ‘John Blake built an entire room on to the back of this house — wiring and all! It's the room they've thrown their things into and locked off. I'd love to take a good look at it. Do you think we could –'

‘Never mind that,' I said. It was bad policy at any time to encourage Arnold in his do-it-yourselfing and I certainly wasn't going to have him start any of that over here. ‘Come and have supper now.'

Six

We had a great day in London. It wasn't actually raining – no more than a heavy mist. The corner of the morning newspaper which gave temperatures around the world listed Boston at 95°F, so New Hampshire would be just about the same. I hoped poor Rosemary wasn't melting away in the unaccustomed heat. I felt as perky as a daisy in spring in the damp English summer.

We spent the morning in the British Museum; Arnold in the Reading Room, while I went round the exhibits with the kids. We met up again for lunch at a little Italian restaurant nearby.

After that, Arnold put us into a taxi for the Tower of London and returned to the Reading Room with the air of a man who has done his duty by his loved ones. We'd collect him when the Reading Room closed, have supper and catch a late train, after the rush hour was over. That was the plan.

I took one look at the queue for admittance stretching around the Tower walls and we didn't even get out of the taxi. ‘Let's try Madame Tussaud's,' I suggested. The kids didn't mind and the driver was quite cheerful and happy about the idea. When I saw the final total we had clocked up on his meter, I could understand why.

BOOK: Paws for Alarm
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