by Penny Kline
Helen looked genuinely mystified. ‘Told you about what?’
‘Well, I assume you had some kind of accident.’
‘When?’
‘I don’t know. Around the time you started refusing to drive. Lost your nerve, worried in case the police caught up — ’
‘The police? You think I killed someone. Yes, you do. You think I’m so cold blooded I could knock someone down and just drive on — like what happened to that Walter Bury’s wife.’
Bryan froze. ‘How did you know about that?’
‘I read about it — or Sandy told me. You think I — ’
‘No I don’t!’ It was Bryan’s turn to start shouting. ‘I don’t think anything. If you never talk to me what am I supposed to believe? If I’ve no idea what’s going on my mind starts inventing things. It’s obvious, isn’t it, Anna? Isn’t it!’
Helen pretended she was going to sneeze. It was a way of covering her eyes and mouth. ‘There wasn’t any accident,’ she said. ‘I’d have told you.’
‘Would you?’
‘I thought if I gave up driving you’d have to spend more time with me.’
‘What? I can’t believe it. You felt so neglected … And spending all that time with Sandy Haran — I suppose you thought that would make me madly jealous.’
She was pouting, like a naughty child who’s had enough, wants to be forgiven. He pulled her hand away from her face. ‘You were wasting your time, it never even crossed my mind. After all, he’s not exactly your type — a balding middle-aged man, dressed in baggy-arsed jeans. Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?’ He swung round to face me. ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’
‘It’s not always that easy.’
‘No.’ His voice had softened. He put out his hand to touch Helen’s face but she jerked her body away. ‘Oh, don’t be so silly. Anyway, what about all that fuss when you thought you’d put on weight? All of two pounds, I’d say. All that endless inspection in the mirror. New scales, accurate to a tenth of an ounce. Have you noticed, Anna, how she likes to stay poker-faced? That’s in case any movement produces lines at the corner of her eyes.’
‘I knew you despised me,’ she said, but her hand was steady when she lifted her glass and she couldn’t prevent a smile.
‘Come here.’ Bryan dragged her towards him and held her against his chest. ‘When I first met you I thought I was so incredibly lucky.’
‘Because I was on the cover of some stupid magazines.’
‘Yes, in a way that’s perfectly true. But not just that, other things.’
She put on a baby voice. ‘What other things?’
I wanted to go, leave them to it, but I decided to stay where I was — just a few minutes longer.
‘We’re friends,’ he said, ‘that’s what really matters. You, me, and Chloe. Friends, companions, we like spending time together.’
‘But not making love.’
‘That’s because of your pills, you’re always tired out.’
‘So are you.’
‘Fair enough, but once the play opens we can go back to London.’
I stood up and they pulled apart, embarrassed, as though they had forgotten I was still there.
‘Thanks, Anna.’ Bryan stretched out his hand. ‘Thanks for everything, I don’t know what we’d have done without you.’
They thought all their problems had been resolved and they would live happily ever after. Perhaps they would.
‘Just one last thing,’ I said, ‘have either of you any idea where Rona could have gone?’
‘Haven’t a clue; have you, Helen?’
Helen looked at the ground. ‘I expect she’s escaped to her flat in Sutton.’
‘Why? Did she say something?’ I asked. ‘Shouldn’t somebody give her a ring?’
‘She’s not on the phone.’
‘In the morning I’ll try and contact a neighbour,’ said Bryan. ‘Rona would never have left Chloe if she hadn’t thought Lynsey could manage perfectly well.’ Neither of them seemed particularly concerned about Rona’s well being — nor with Lynsey’s come to that. I felt angry, upset, but short of asking the police to look for Rona there was nothing much I could do.
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow lunchtime,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you’ll have heard something by then.’
Helen looked surprised. ‘Yes, all right.’
‘Yes, you do that.’ Bryan followed me out on to the drive. ‘Hey, listen, that woman you saw me with at the shopping centre.’ So he had seen me after all. ‘No doubt you thought the worst, although, God knows, if you can’t have a cup of coffee with someone of the opposite sex without … ’
‘I didn’t think anything,’ I lied.
‘Yes, you did. Anyway, it was a business meeting.’
‘You don’t have to explain.’
‘Oh, come on, I want to. You’ll think I’m insane but she was someone I hired. A private detective.’
‘To check up on Helen and Sandy.’
‘Don’t be crazy. I thought Helen was in some kind of trouble. She goes up to London every Tuesday, usually comes back in an odd kind of mood, won’t talk, seems withdrawn.’
‘What did you think was going on?’
‘I had no idea. I was worried.’
‘And?’ Surely after what I had just witnessed I deserved some kind of explanation?
‘She’s been attending some kind of clinic — for women. Somewhere in north London. D’you know anything about it?’
‘It depends. Does she have an eating disorder?’
‘How d’you mean? Oh, she’s not anorexic, she eats pretty well.’
‘But she’s obsessed with her weight. You said so yourself. People like Helen, people who’ve had to stay thin — athletes, models, actresses — they’re particularly susceptible.’
‘God, you don’t mean … Bingeing and … ’ He pulled a face. ‘Don’t tell her, will you — about the private eye?’
‘Of course not, but why don’t you let her know you’re worried about her, try to give her the confidence to tell you about it herself?’
‘If she found out I’d had her followed … ‘
‘Just be patient, sympathetic.’
‘I always am.’ He grinned. ‘Oh, you mean I don’t have the right bedside manner. Incidentally’ — he rested a hand on my shoulder — ‘I’m afraid you may’ve got the wrong impression. She’s not nearly as selfish as she seems, it’s just that she’s known Rona all her life, thinks of her like a mother, too tough and independent to come to any harm.’
‘I hope she’s right,’ I said, climbing into my car and winding down the window. ‘I just hope she’s right.’
Bryan stood in the driveway, watching as I reversed into the space between the lawn and the monkey puzzle tree. Just before I turned into the road I raised an arm and glanced in the driving mirror, but he had gone back into the house.
Chapter Eighteen
For a moment I thought I had imagined it, hallucinated. She was sitting inside the vegetarian cafe in Waterloo Street in Clifton with her arms resting on one of the long wooden tables. When I moved closer I could see a bowl of soup and a bread roll, both untouched.
‘Rona?’
Her hand slid across the table, knocking the bowl and splashing the saffron-coloured liquid over her paper napkin.
‘Where’ve you been? Are you all right?’
She inclined her head a little, mopping up the soup that was in danger of dripping on to her lap.
‘We were worried about you.’ I turned to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee. While it was being poured I could hear Rona murmuring to herself — something about the baby. ‘It’s all right,’ I said, ‘Chloe’s fine. Lynsey took her to her friend’s house but she’s back home now, everything’s all right.’
A shudder ran through her body. ‘I didn’t know what else … I didn’t know … ’ She was totally exhausted, incapable even of drinking the soup.
‘You don’t have to say anything now. If you like we cou
ld go to my flat.’
‘No, I have to tell someone. I’ve been so stupid, such a coward.’
Her eyes were fixed on a knot in the table. She was searching for the right words, trying to steel herself to begin.
‘Did something happen?’ I said. ‘You had a phone call? Perhaps you just felt it was all too much.’
She moved her head slowly, wearily. ‘Biddy,’ she said, ‘I went to see Biddy.’
‘Biddy? But I thought … ’
She was hunched over the table. Suddenly she straightened up and the beaten look changed to something closer to the old familiar expression. Anger It’s anger that gives you strength …
‘Helen never kept in touch, you know, not after her parents died. Oh, a card at Christmas with a scribble on the back that was virtually impossible to decipher. I went to the wedding of course — her and Bryan — but since then … ’ She picked up her spoon. ‘D’you mind if I eat this, I came back on the train and I certainly wasn’t going to pay their restaurant car prices.’
‘Would you like something else? A salad, something on toast?’
She shook her head. ‘After the baby — well, before they actually got her — Helen phoned me at the flat. She wanted my advice, that’s what she said, how to find a nanny, how you went about it. She was so excited about the adoption she never even asked after Biddy. Not a word.’ Breaking off a piece of bread roll she dipped it in the soup. ‘I said I’d find out everything she needed to know and ring her back.’
‘This was after the baby had been born, was it?’
‘Yes, I think so. Yes, it must have been because she knew it was a girl.’
The man behind the counter had come round to ask if we needed anything else. He wasn’t trying to get rid of us — the lunchtime rush had ended — but I ordered two more coffees, then turned back to Rona.
‘Go on.’
‘Where was I?’
‘You were going to ring Helen back, to tell her how to find a nanny.’
She sighed. ‘Biddy was away at the time. Every so often Social Services would arrange a fortnight in a residential home.’
‘To give you a rest.’
‘I suppose I’d been looking forward to some time on my own, but when it came I felt too tired to enjoy it very much. You get into a routine, you see, when it’s broken … ’
‘Yes, I know. How did you feel about Helen and the baby? Was the real reason she’d phoned because she hoped you’d come and take over?’
‘She was sounding me out. Helen can’t bear anyone to say no to her. She’s always been the same, ever since she was tiny.’
I nodded, only to encourage her to continue, but she took it as a criticism of Helen.
‘Oh, I’m not blaming Helen, it was my decision.’
The coffee arrived. Rona pushed the remains of the soup to one side but hung on to the bread roll, picking off small crumbs and chewing them as though it was a great effort.
‘After Helen phoned I was frantic. It was raining but I went for a walk in the park. There’s one quite near my flat, nothing special but I like the ducks, the noise they make, their beautiful oily feathers. There’s a white one, part farmyard, part mallard, I suppose they must have interbred.’ She broke off suddenly aware that she had shifted away from the point. ‘I suppose I’d known from the start what I was going to do.’
‘You mean as soon as Helen told you about the adoption?’
‘I went back home and rang her. I told her Biddy had died, six months before, and if she wanted I would be free in a few weeks’ time. Oh, you must think I’m so callous.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Well, you ought to.’ She glared at me, then relented and took hold of my hand. ‘Biddy seemed happy at the home. Just as happy as when she was with me. Sometimes I’d wonder what it was all for. She’s like a child, a small child, as long as she has everything she needs … Of course I knew Social Services wouldn’t pay but Father had left a little money, enough for at least four or five years. After that … well I could cross that bridge when I came to it.’
‘Did you tell Helen that Biddy had died in an accident?’
She nodded miserably. ‘The same as I told you.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Helen? Oh, I forget. I expect she said it was terribly sad but really a blessing. No, that’s not fair, I’m sure she tried to say the right things.’ She paused, taking hold of her blue glass beads and twisting them until they tightened on her neck. ‘Just before we all came to Bristol the matron of the home said Biddy was asking for me. I’d visited her of course and she’d seemed quite content but one of the other residents had pulled her hair and … Oh, I suppose I’d known all along it wasn’t going to work.’
‘It must have been dreadful for you.’
‘I’d brought it on myself. About six weeks ago I took a few days off — to go and visit. But I never did. Just went back to Sutton and sat there. Then I returned to Bristol. It was while I was away they found the body.’
‘Walter Bury?’
‘I met him once you know. In the woods. I’m sure it was him. They had his picture in the paper and it looked like the same man although I suppose it might have been someone else.’
‘What was he doing?’
‘That’s why I remember him. He was bending down studying some plants and I asked him what they were called and he said they were spiked speedwell, quite rare, only found in the Avon Gorge and a few other places.’
Outside in the street someone had started unloading boxes out of the back of a van. A woman with a pram was complaining it was impossible to get past and the van driver was explaining he’d only be a couple of minutes.
‘Did you tell the police?’ I said.
‘No, why should I? It was several weeks before it happened, before the poor man died. Who can have done it, d’you s’pose? Lynsey kept saying it was because of his wife.’
‘His wife?’
‘Oh, Lynsey’d met someone, a friend of a friend, someone who’d known Walter Bury, someone who’d told her how his wife was killed in a road accident.’
‘Did she say who this friend was? Colin Elliot, was it?’
Rona’s eyes had filled with tears but whether they were for Biddy or Walter Bury or just from total exhaustion I had no idea.
I pushed her cup of coffee closer, encouraging her to drink. ‘How was Biddy when you saw her this time?’
‘Oh, Biddy-like.’
‘Pleased to see you?’
‘She asked when we were going home.’ She smiled for the first time, picking up her mug of coffee and holding it in both hands. ‘D’you know why I’m sitting here, Anna? It’s because I’m so feeble, no backbone, can’t face Bryan and Helen.’
‘They’ll understand,’ I said. ‘If you like I’ll walk back to the house with you.’
‘No, that’s very kind, but I have to do it on my own.’
‘All right then, I’ll go as far as the Suspension Bridge and on the way I’ll tell you about Lynsey, only you must promise to keep it to yourself.’
She nodded. ‘Poor Lynsey, I knew I could trust her. We got off to a bad start, then we were both too proud to make it up. So stupid, all so stupid.’
*
Geraldine was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.
‘Anna, how are you?’ She made it sound as though I was a long-lost friend, not someone she had seen almost every day for the last two weeks.
‘I’m fine.’ I stepped forward, putting out an arm to catch her as she stumbled, knocking her elbow on the wall. ‘I came to tell you about Rona.’
‘Rona,’ she said vaguely.
‘She’s back. I found her sitting in a cafe in Clifton Village. She went to visit her sister.’
‘Her sister? Oh, that’s nice.’
‘Did she tell you about Biddy? Look, I think it’ll be easier if I explain to you and Sandy, then she won’t have to tell you herself. I think that’s what she’d prefer.’
We were s
till standing in the hallway. Geraldine had her back to the living-room door. On the stairs leading up to Thomas’s bedroom someone had propped up the penguin with the chewed beak. To greet him when he returned home?
‘I’m worried about Sandy,’ said Geraldine.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, he’s still ill in bed, is he, shouldn’t you call the doctor?’
She stared at me as though I was talking gibberish. ‘The doctor?’
‘You said he had an attack of migraine.’
‘Did I? I had a friend who suffered from migraine. She couldn’t eat chocolate or cheese, and some other foods — I forget. You see he didn’t come back last night, only I’m sure there’s some very simple explanation.’
‘Sandy didn’t come home?’
‘I expect he told me where he was going and it slipped my mind. Sometimes he calls in on a friend in Portishead and decides to stay over. They have a few drinks, you know how it is. It’s someone he was in business with years ago. Dennis, he’s called Dennis. I had a friend once, Denise Hulme, she had an affair with her boss and got herself into a terrible tangle. It’s no good, it’s never any good.’
‘Have you phoned this Dennis?’
‘What? Oh, yes, but Sandy’s not there. He hasn’t seen him for months. I felt a bit of a fool checking up.’ She ran her eyes down my body, starting with my hair and ending with my feet. ‘You’ve never been married, have you?’
‘No.’
‘I know hardly anything about you, apart from what Sandy’s told me, and you’re not supposed to ask, are you, not if you’re having treatment.’
‘What did you want to know?’ It seemed an odd time to start answering questions about my life, but Geraldine was acting so oddly I decided it was better to follow her lead.
‘Oh, nothing in particular,’ she said. ‘I suppose I was wondering if you lived with someone.’
‘Not at the moment.’
‘But you have done, you know what it’s like?’
‘Yes, I know what it’s like.’
‘So you’ve been fond of someone, in love.’
‘They’re not quite the same thing.’
‘No.’ She thought about this, running her fingers backwards and forwards across her chin. ‘I’ve never been a very sexual person, I suppose I’m more interested in the meeting of minds.’ Her body started to sway and she reached out to steady herself, pressing the palm of her hand against one of the shelves of china birds. ‘Anna?’