Page 56 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
‘Looks like your leg’s feeling better,’ Jennifer said.
Rick looked down at the cast he was balancing on, then suddenly his face screwed up and he slumped back into the chair. ‘Oh, the pain, the pain! Clair, grab my crutches, won’t you?’
On the way home,Jennifer decided to stop in at the town museum and have a word with Gavin’s mother, to see how he was getting on at home. It had rained in the morning so she had driven to work, however, after parking in the Pay & Display and walking through town, she found that the museum shut early on Thursdays. On the way back to the car park, she had to walk past the council building. It was nearly six o’clock, but a few lights were on in the upper floor windows. Perhaps Regina Clover was still at work?
Like a barbed wire fence, it was unlikely the woman would be swayed by gentle persuasion, but if Jennifer could spin a good enough sob story she might find a crack in the woman’s iron-like defenses. She went inside, filled out a form at the reception desk, then was directed up the stairs to an office on the third floor.
She gave a light knock on the door, but no one answered. After another unanswered knock, she gently opened the door and peered inside. The room was small, made smaller by tall filing cabinets along the walls and folders of paperwork on every available surface. A desk stood in the middle of the chaos, a grey plateau among towering, snowcapped mountains. A couple of nodding solar powered dog ornaments sat among pots of pens, boxes of staplers and labels, and a cup that badly needed washing. The chair was on Jennifer’s side, a computer in the desk’s centre. Jennifer blinked as a screensaver suddenly appeared. At first she thought it was an actual video feed, before realising it repeated on a five second loop.
A sudden plan formulated in her mind, and she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
As she walked back down the corridor, she heard a toilet flush. She had just reached the top of the stairs when Regina Clover appeared out of a side door, hands shaking droplets of water over the floor. She didn’t see Jennifer as she headed up the corridor and went into her office.
Jennifer hurried down the stairs and went to look for Tom. However, by the time she had got home, got the lead on Bonky and headed up to Sycamore Park with the dog in tow, Tom’s shack was closed and he had gone home.
She went over to the Oak Leaf Café to ask Angela, but her friend just shook her head. ‘I think he has rehearsal on a Thursday,’ she said. ‘Is it urgent?’
‘Not so much, just a kind of madcap idea I had. It’ll wait until tomorrow.’
‘Have you eaten yet?’
Jennifer sighed. ‘I don’t have time to eat.’
‘Oh, that’s good news. I made this new quiche this afternoon, and really need someone to test it on before it goes live to the public. Are you happy to risk possible poisoning for a potentially exquisite dining experience?’
Jennifer smiled. ‘I’ll take the risk,’ she said.
‘Ah, but could you do me a favour?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ve got a booking at eight for a family with a couple of kids, and I’ve run out of milk. Any chance you could run up to the supermarket and grab me some? You can leave Bonky here with me. I’ll fix him something to eat.’
‘You want me to literally run?’
Angela laughed. ‘No, no, of course not. Actually, you could borrow my bicycle. It has a light and everything.’ She reached into her pocket and produced a padlock key. ‘It’s around the back. Do you want me to show you?’
‘It’s okay. Just the milk?’
‘Oh, and a bottle of wine, if you have the time. You can choose. Surprise me.’
Jennifer swapped the key for Bonky’s lead, then went outside. It was just starting to get dark, but she found the bike chained up around the back of the café easily enough. It was a huge, powerful town bike with a sticker on the frame which said AMSTERDAM ORIGINAL. Angela had decorated the basket on the front with several plastic flowers in autumn colours, weaving their stems into the wire mesh.
The nearest supermarket was a ten-minute ride. As Jennifer whizzed through the streets, she considered downgrading her little car to a bicycle. Perhaps she could get a similar one to this and together they could go riding along the local cycle paths to view the autumn leaves.
She chained the bike up outside the supermarket and went inside. It was quiet at this time of night, most of the evening’s commuters having already passed through. Jennifer wandered down a central aisle towards the refrigerated section, guiltily checking out the cakes on display in a confectionary area. She was almost there when a familiar voice drifted over from the adjacent aisle, freezing her to the spot.
‘So, just honey-cured ham and we’re done?’
‘Unless you’d like something else in your sandwiches?’
‘No, that would be great. Put a bit more mustard on, though.’
‘I didn’t want to make you sneeze.’
‘It’s okay.’
Accompanying the voices was a regular thump-thump-thump and a creak of something metallic. Jennifer shrank back behind a protruding rack of sale items as the owners of the two voices reached the end of the adjacent aisle and turned across the front of hers.
