Tragedy at Two by Ann Purser Page B

I, Mum?”
    Gran said she remembered it well. “There she was,” she confided, “all ready and dressed for church, an’ suddenly she went bright red and came out in a rash. Yelled that she didn’t want to marry him, and flung herself down on the bed in floods of tears.”
    “What?” Susie said, staring at Lois. “You did that? I can’t imagine you doing that, honestly, Mrs. Meade.”
    “Time you started calling me Lois. And yes, even I can lose it,” Lois said, smiling broadly now. “Douglas is probably biting his nails and waiting for you to ring. So you might as well do it now.”
    “What, right now?”
    “Yes, right now.” Lois got up and led Susie into her office, sat her down and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
    Back in the kitchen, she told Gran that Josie would be coming round. Floss was free, and would be taking over the shop as soon as she could get there.
    “Perhaps we should get Josie and Susie together,” Gran said dryly. “Shut ’em up in the sitting room with a big box of tissues and see what happens.” Then she retracted, and said that Josie’s grief was a lot more serious than Susie’s, and she’d better start making a chocolate cake for her favourite granddaughter.
    “You’ve only got one granddaughter,” Lois said.
    “Exactly,” said Gran, and began to assemble her baking things. After a good half hour, Susie emerged from Lois’s office.
    “Problem solved?” Lois said. She need not have asked. Susie was all smiles.
    “I think we love each other more than ever,” said Susie, in a soppy voice.
    Lois and Gran exchanged glances, and then Lois said she was very pleased, and was sure that Susie would want to be off now, back to work. She suggested a meal out somewhere for the two of them this evening.
    “Douglas has already booked at the Vine House. Isn’t he wonderful?” Susie said softly. She gave Lois a peck on the cheek, and then another for Gran, and disappeared with her head in the air.
    “Next,” said Lois. “Or is that three? No, four. Cowgill, new client, Josie and Susie. Should be quiet for a bit, then. Ah, there’s Josie,” she added, seeing her passing the kitchen window. “If only we could work the same magic for her, Mum.”
    Gran nodded, and beat the cake mixture with extra fury.
     
     
    COWGILL STOOD IN HIS OFFICE, STARING OUT OF THE WINDOW AT the traffic and passing shoppers on Tresham’s main street. He had returned from talking to Lois and Derek with his heart in his boots. He had never seen her so set against him. They had such a good relationship—he the patient, adoring policeman, she the feisty cleaning woman, independent and cheeky—no, insulting would be a better word—but always with an affectionate good humour behind it. Or so he hoped.
    His telephone rang, and he snatched it up. It was one of his team, asking what he considered was a totally unnecessary question. “For God’s sake, man!” he answered. “You don’t need me to tell you that. If you can’t deal with that, you’re in the wrong job!” And he cut the man off midsentence.
    His attention was drawn to a gang of youths standing outside the boarded-up Woolworths shop on the opposite side of the street. Grey hooded sweaters, heads down and causing a block on the pavement so that shoppers had to step into the street to walk around them.
    “Right outside the station!” he shouted. He lifted his internal phone and barked instructions into it, then returned to the window to watch. In seconds, a constable was there, but not fast enough. All but one disappeared into the crowd, but the one left was frog-marched back into the station, out of Cowgill’s sight. His phone rang. “Well?” he said.
    “Usual, sir. Swapping downers and uppers and God knows what else. Got one of them down here. Shall we carry on, sir?”
    Cowgill was about to agree, but then hesitated. Time to do a spot of proper policing, he decided, and said he’d be down in ten minutes. “Be nice