waving excitedly. ‘He didn’t see me,’ she said, pouting. Jim shrugged, uninterested. Regaining her composure, Daisy attempted to be friendly and asked, ‘How’s Amy?’
‘Mum and Amy have gone to stay with my aunt Anwen for a while. Anwen had a baby a few months ago, and she’s not been in good health since. Uncle George is busy running his bakery, so he’s not much use at home.’ Jim told the story they’d agreed on in parrot fashion, and even to him it sounded false.
Daisy never noticed. Her brain was travelling along a different line. ‘Does that mean your Mum has given up her job here?’
Jim looked into Daisy’s wide questioning eyes and unknowingly fell victim to her manipulation. She blinked coyly up at him, dark blond lashes shadowing bright green eyes, her one redeeming feature in an otherwise bland face. Daisy radiated sexuality. She’d left her long hair loose and blonde strands framed her ample breasts. Jim appreciated why she had many admirers. He felt a pull in his groin and shamed by his lack of self-control answered hoarsely, ‘For the moment she has, yes.’ He looked away so Daisy wouldn’t read the lust in his eyes.
‘Well, let’s hope Laurence is found safe and well,’ Daisy said dismissively, and leaving Jim she walked off towards the kitchen door.
Jim watched Daisy disappear into the kitchen then walked over to his father, who had begun rounding up the men into groups. John Farrell, a tall quiet man in speech and manner, gave each leader a rough plan of the wood. The area each group was to cover was circled, the traps marked with a cross. Charlie Brock, a short barrel of a man with thick arms and legs, stood waiting, watching the goings-on.
‘Charlie, are you ready?’ John called, and reluctantly Charlie walked over to take one of the maps. Suddenly shushing murmurs filled the yard as Sir Edmund climbed up on to a wooden crate. A hush settled on the crowd.
‘Thank you all for volunteering to help find my son. Whoever finds Laurence will be well rewarded, I can promise you that, men. Any information regarding Laurence’s whereabouts or in connection with his disappearance will also be well rewarded.’ From the tone of his voice and red rimmed eyes it was apparent he’d taken a blow. His educated voice, normally rich and deep, sounded defeated. The men turned to leave and Sir Edmund stood by silently, willing them to succeed.
Jim Farrell supervised the first group; Charlie the second; Tom Barton the third and Leo the fourth. The last to leave was John.
Sir Edmund called out to him as he passed. ‘If anyone can find Laurence, you can John. Bring my boy back to me, please.’ He cleared his throat as his voice broke with emotion.
Saddened in the knowledge that he would never be able to do that, John touched his cloth cap in answer and trudged out of the gate with his men.
***
Dora Stoakley looked Daisy over from head to toe, and being on the plump side herself, she looked favourably at Daisy’s stout frame. ‘Not afraid of a bit of hard work by the looks of your hands,’ Dora said with approval, pouring them both a cup of strong tea.
‘Would you have to give any notice at the pub?’ Dora wasn’t normally given to hasty decisions but needs must.
‘I’m down to do an evening shift tonight so to be fair to Mr Treweeks I had better go in. I don’t like letting people down.’
‘Ellen Farrell normally does this,’ Dora said, pleased by Daisy’s integrity. Dora scattered flour onto her breadboard, cut off a small piece of dough from a mound on the table and began kneading it. The flour soon covered her hands and fingers, encrusting her nails. ‘I don’t suppose you know how to make bread?’ Dora added hopefully.
‘No, Mrs Stoakley, but I’m willing to learn.’ Daisy was in two minds whether to offer to help now but thought better of it. She didn’t want to mess up her clothes just in case she should meet Leo on her way out.
‘Mrs Deverell will
‘Mum and Amy have gone to stay with my aunt Anwen for a while. Anwen had a baby a few months ago, and she’s not been in good health since. Uncle George is busy running his bakery, so he’s not much use at home.’ Jim told the story they’d agreed on in parrot fashion, and even to him it sounded false.
Daisy never noticed. Her brain was travelling along a different line. ‘Does that mean your Mum has given up her job here?’
Jim looked into Daisy’s wide questioning eyes and unknowingly fell victim to her manipulation. She blinked coyly up at him, dark blond lashes shadowing bright green eyes, her one redeeming feature in an otherwise bland face. Daisy radiated sexuality. She’d left her long hair loose and blonde strands framed her ample breasts. Jim appreciated why she had many admirers. He felt a pull in his groin and shamed by his lack of self-control answered hoarsely, ‘For the moment she has, yes.’ He looked away so Daisy wouldn’t read the lust in his eyes.
‘Well, let’s hope Laurence is found safe and well,’ Daisy said dismissively, and leaving Jim she walked off towards the kitchen door.
Jim watched Daisy disappear into the kitchen then walked over to his father, who had begun rounding up the men into groups. John Farrell, a tall quiet man in speech and manner, gave each leader a rough plan of the wood. The area each group was to cover was circled, the traps marked with a cross. Charlie Brock, a short barrel of a man with thick arms and legs, stood waiting, watching the goings-on.
‘Charlie, are you ready?’ John called, and reluctantly Charlie walked over to take one of the maps. Suddenly shushing murmurs filled the yard as Sir Edmund climbed up on to a wooden crate. A hush settled on the crowd.
‘Thank you all for volunteering to help find my son. Whoever finds Laurence will be well rewarded, I can promise you that, men. Any information regarding Laurence’s whereabouts or in connection with his disappearance will also be well rewarded.’ From the tone of his voice and red rimmed eyes it was apparent he’d taken a blow. His educated voice, normally rich and deep, sounded defeated. The men turned to leave and Sir Edmund stood by silently, willing them to succeed.
Jim Farrell supervised the first group; Charlie the second; Tom Barton the third and Leo the fourth. The last to leave was John.
Sir Edmund called out to him as he passed. ‘If anyone can find Laurence, you can John. Bring my boy back to me, please.’ He cleared his throat as his voice broke with emotion.
Saddened in the knowledge that he would never be able to do that, John touched his cloth cap in answer and trudged out of the gate with his men.
***
Dora Stoakley looked Daisy over from head to toe, and being on the plump side herself, she looked favourably at Daisy’s stout frame. ‘Not afraid of a bit of hard work by the looks of your hands,’ Dora said with approval, pouring them both a cup of strong tea.
‘Would you have to give any notice at the pub?’ Dora wasn’t normally given to hasty decisions but needs must.
‘I’m down to do an evening shift tonight so to be fair to Mr Treweeks I had better go in. I don’t like letting people down.’
‘Ellen Farrell normally does this,’ Dora said, pleased by Daisy’s integrity. Dora scattered flour onto her breadboard, cut off a small piece of dough from a mound on the table and began kneading it. The flour soon covered her hands and fingers, encrusting her nails. ‘I don’t suppose you know how to make bread?’ Dora added hopefully.
‘No, Mrs Stoakley, but I’m willing to learn.’ Daisy was in two minds whether to offer to help now but thought better of it. She didn’t want to mess up her clothes just in case she should meet Leo on her way out.
‘Mrs Deverell will
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