Threats at Three by Ann Purser

like a salesman, Kate thought. He was dressed casually, had curly dark hair, and an open smile. “Yes, I am. Can I help you?” she said.
    Andrew explained that he had met Gavin in the pub, and that as well as cleaning for New Brooms he ran an interior décor business, and wondered if she would like to have a chat. Gavin had said they might be interested in brightening up their cottage.
    “We had talked about it,” she said. “He mentioned meeting you in the pub. But I think it would be best if you came when he was at home. He hates being left out! How about this evening? He usually gets back around half six. Would that be any good?”
    “Fine,” replied Andrew, abandoning his plan for an evening with a takeaway and a film. “I’ll come around seven, shall I? Or half-past, maybe? We men always think better on a full stomach.”
    As he made his way back to his car, still parked outside Meade House, Andrew remembered Bridie Reading’s dramatic story, and wondered who the poor sod was who’d been looking for work. It was a downwards spiral, being homeless, as he knew from his work in the Tresham shelter just up the road from his flat. No permanent address, so no job. Stealing money to buy alcohol and drugs was all part of the sad decline.
    Andrew had been through bad times himself after his parents were killed in a car crash, and remembered only too well the awful lethargy that overtook him when he should have been out looking for a job, starting a new life. At least he had had money to tide him over.
     
     
    “COME IN, ANDREW.” GAVIN ADSTONE SAID HEARTILY. HE STOOD at the door of his cottage, authoritative and welcoming.
    Aha, thought Andrew, he’s been on a self-assertion course. First rule: establish who is boss straightaway, especially when someone is trying to sell you something.
    “Hello,” said Andrew. “Lovely evening. Nice of you to give up some time to see me. I am sure we shall have an enjoyable discussion, and if nothing comes of it, no matter. I shall have gained a couple of friends, I hope!”
    Kate appeared with small Cecilia in her arms. Andrew made a clown face at the little one and raised a laugh. “Three new friends, I should say,” he said. He had been on a course or two himself.

EIGHTEEN

    I SAW ANDREW YOUNG IN THE PUB,” DEREK SAID. HE OPENED yet another junk mail envelope and added it to an untidy heap on the floor. “Talking to Gavin Adstone like they was old mates.”
    “Perhaps they are,” Gran said. “And don’t expect me to pick up them leaflets.”
    “Oops! Who’s upset you this morning?”
    “My darling daughter, if you must know.”
    “Lois? What’s she done now?”
    “Only offended my best friend, that’s what. Told Joan Pickering that she hoped she’d give that Hickson woman a warmer welcome than the last new member of WI got.”
    “Paula Hickson? Is she joining the WI? Where’s she going to find time, and the money to pay a babysitter?”
    “No doubt New Brooms will subsidise her,” Gran said bitterly. “Lois always did like a lame duck or two.”
    Derek looked at his watch. “Is Lois still upstairs? Time I went.”
    He walked out of the kitchen and called up the stairs. Lois’s voice answered him from her office, and he stamped along the hallway to find her. “What the hell d’you think you’re doin’?” he said. “You’ve had no breakfast, haven’t said a word to me, and now it’s time I went. And,” he added angrily, “your mother is sulking in the kitchen. Seems you’ve upset her friend Joan.”
    “Not a bad morning’s work so far, then,” said Lois, with a smile. “Sorry, love. We’ll talk at lunchtime. Something urgent I just had to see to. ‘New Brooms Sweeps Cleaner,’ as you know.”
    Derek sighed. “Just as well I love you, Lois Meade,” he said, and disappeared off to work in his van, while Lois went to placate Gran in the kitchen.
    “Mum,” she began, “would you do something for me?”
    “I don’t feel much like