Fraser's Line

by Monica Carly

  Now there would be much to do, dealing with Marjorie’s affairs. The cottage would have to be cleared of its contents and sold. At least the will was straightforward – all assets to be divided equally between the two children. Margaret felt a stab of regret. She wished she had been able to show her mother more affection. Did Marjorie know how she felt? Margaret hoped that her suggestions about the need to go into a care home had not upset her. Anyone could see it was the sensible thing to do, and if Fraser had not opposed it so strongly she would have arranged it a long time before this. It was ridiculous for Marjorie to be struggling there all by herself – dependent on neighbours to see to her daily needs. Oh well, now it wasn’t necessary, so at least there wasn’t that to worry about.

  But she did worry about Fraser. It was hard to see him looking pale and unhappy. Personally Margaret could not understand what there was in Edie to make him so deeply attached to her. Yes, she had been a beautiful woman – no one could deny that. But was she a genuine person? Margaret had never felt close to her. Edie would make all the right noises, but her eyes seemed to be looking into the distance and Margaret always wondered what she was thinking about.

  She must try and help Fraser. She didn’t know if the party had been a success or not, but perhaps she shouldn’t try and push him before he was ready. What could she do? She hoped Sarah and Joanna were offering some comfort. Sarah was always busy, but the twins were adorable. Margaret regretted that she and Derek had been unable to have children, but thought that perhaps that was just as well, as she doubted her ability to be a good mother. However she knew that small children, in their innocence, could often bring a little healing to a sad heart.

  What about Joanna? She had been in a strange mood lately. Something about her disturbed Margaret. Perhaps the problem was that she had no settled way ahead, and hadn’t made up her mind what to do. It must be hard to see her older sister happily busy with her family and her work commitments. A thought struck Margaret – was that part of the problem? That she envied her elder sister and felt inferior? There was a familiar ring to the situation, which elicited a sympathetic reaction in Margaret. Perhaps she should try and give some time to her younger niece.

  In fact, she would do something about that right away. She picked up the telephone and dialled Joanna’s number – but there was no answer. She wondered what Joanna was doing, and was just making a mental note to try again later when the answerphone message clicked in:

  ‘Hi, you haven’t reached Joanna because she’s not here, and what’s more she doesn’t want to be contacted, so whoever you are, and especially if you’re you-know-who, just sod off.’

  Chapter 16

  As they sat at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee before embarking on the task before them Fraser had asked:

  ‘The problems with my daughters that I was discussing with you – do you think it’s possible that they will ever come to their senses? I hate to think of them struggling on, continuing to make the same mistakes.’

  It had not been easy to settle on option one, but now that he had, Fraser found he was beginning to want answers.

  ‘Most people do, most of their lives,’ replied Angela. ‘People seem hell bent, at times, on their own destruction. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to change. Usually it take’s some sort of trauma or crisis.’

  ‘Like, in my case, losing my wife and my mother?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘It might be something like that – although not necessarily so drastic. It might be a crisis in their own mind, such as a big loss of confidence, for some reason, that forces them to seek help. Something triggers the desire to come through the dark patch. It’s not impossible. After all, you sought help.’

  Fraser felt pleased that she seemed to think he had made progress. ‘Well, I think I’ve delayed the inevitable enough now, don’t you? Shall we get on with it?’

  ‘How do you want to do this? Would you prefer me to sit here quietly reading a book while you look at the documents?’

  ‘Actually,’ he replied, ‘I think I’d prefer the opposite. I’d like to do the sitting quietly, while you go through things and tell me what you see. I’m not sure I can bear to look directly at the papers, seeing her handwriting, and all her personal things. Does that sound rather cowardly?’

  ‘It sounds pretty sensible, if that’s what will help. I’ve been thinking, perhaps before we do get down to it, would you tell me a bit about Edie? I know so little, I think it would be useful. What was she like?’

  Fraser’s face suddenly came alive. ‘She was the most beautiful woman you could ever imagine, with her lovely golden hair, and slim figure, and always so beautifully dressed.’

  Angela thought ruefully of her own rather dark looks and fuller figure, and suppressed a smile. She also wondered, since Edie was in her fifties, whether the golden hair might have owed something to the hairdresser’s art, but thought it better not to ask.

  Instead, she said with a smile, ‘I am reminded of a passage in “Sense and Sensibility” where Marianne is trying to find out about Willoughby, the dashing young man who carried her in from the hillside when she had fallen. She asks her mother’s cousin, Sir John, but all he can talk about is how Willoughby is a good shot and a great rider – attributes that scarcely broaden Marianne’s knowledge of the man. From your description, I’m no nearer understanding Edie’s character.’

  ‘I don’t seem to be very good at this. How would you answer, if I asked you to tell me about your husband?’

  ‘I could simply mention the physical characteristics and say that he was a tall, slim, black American.’

  Fraser was silent. ‘Does that shock you?’ asked Angela.

  ‘It’s just a bit unexpected. Was it a good marriage?

  ‘Wonderful, because he was a really kind, and thoughtful man with a deep love of his fellow men and a passion to help the suffering by using his medical skills. And then there was his sense of humour, which I always found attractive. Professionally, he worked hard, and would go on battling to save a life long after others would have given up. When his own life was brutally terminated I didn’t want to go on living.’

  ‘Same here,’ said Fraser, ‘I know just how you feel where that’s concerned. I hope you will tell me the whole story soon.’

  ‘I promise, but now we must concentrate on Edie. Why don’t you try and tell me something of her life history, in a nutshell? A sort of potted version. Do you think you could? I think it would be easier to make sense of what I see when I look at her things.’

  ‘Alright – let me think. She was born in 1939 of Dutch parents, in Rotterdam. Her father was in the Dutch Army. Her Dutch name was Edda, and the surname was Bakker. As you might know, on 14th May, in 1940, the Germans bombed the city, killing many soldiers and also civilians. Edie’s father was one of the army’s casualties. By the time the tide of the war was turning Edie’s mother had contracted TB and as she feared she hadn’t long to live she was worried about her daughter’s future. I think there were no relatives who could help so she devised a courageous plan to get to England, where she believed Edie might have a better future.

  ‘She managed to persuade Dr Barnado’s organisation that Edie would very soon be entirely on her own and they agreed to take her into one of their homes. Her mother then went back to the Netherlands, where I think she died shortly afterwards. The name was changed to the anglicised form, Edie Baker, and she quickly picked up English, as young children do, speaking it like a native in no time. She got lucky a couple of years later because by the time she was eight years old she was adopted by Pat and Ernest, who already had a daughter, Beryl, and they wanted a sister for her, knowing they couldn’t have any more of their own.

  ‘They gave her a kindly, if unexciting, upbringing, and Edie forged a close relationship with Beryl, who’s been a real sister to her. She was fond of her new adoptive parents, who took seriously their respon
sibility to enable her to live independently. They believed her best route would be to qualify in secretarial work, as jobs were usually available in that line. Poor Edie really did not want to do that, as she longed to get into the fashion trade, no matter in how humble a capacity initially – but her parents held out, so she found herself at Pitman’s College for Shorthand and Typing. For good measure, to try and add a little sophistication, they also started her on a flower arranging course with Constance Spry. It soon became clear to Edie, however, that the method used there was to spear every single bloom with a piece of wire, and she thought that was hateful. She walked out and wouldn’t go back! But she did finish her Pitman’s course, and was able to get a job in London with an insurance firm.

  Before long she had made friends with some of the other girls, and three of them decided to go into digs on their own. They had a great time, partying whenever they could, and meeting lots of young men. Then one day I saw her on the top of a bus, and I managed to get her to agree to a date – and that was that. Neither of us looked back, and a year later we were married. Along came first Sarah, and then Joanna, and the rest, as they say, is history.’

  ‘Were there ups and downs?’

  ‘Oh goodness, yes – life, for Edie, consisted of ups and downs. Much of the time she was bright, happy, full of fun – even excited, you might say. But I must admit she did sometimes seem to go down to the depths of despair. I couldn’t find out what was wrong – she wasn’t able to explain, only said that she felt “low”. Of course I worried about it a great deal to start with, but I learned that she would, given time, pick up and become bright and happy again – and when she did she would be sorry, and want to make it up to me – then we’d have a wonderful time. I think I also came round to realising that it wasn’t actually anything to do with me that had caused her such anguish, and that made me feel able to wait patiently for it to pass.’

  ‘What sort of things made her happiest of all?’

  ‘She loved the social situation – perhaps being at a party – she had all the men flocking round her, and she could captivate them with her liveliness – she never seemed at a loss as to how to entertain others with sparkling conversation. She’d come back glowing, feeling, I think, a great success.’

  ‘And what had the opposite effect?’

  ‘That’s harder to answer. I don’t really know. But sometimes she’d seem completely dissatisfied with herself – complain that her hair looked dreadful, or she was getting fat – then nothing I said would make her feel better – it was almost as though she was bent on hating herself, and she’d end up getting mad with me for trying to make her feel better. I inevitably put my foot in it.’

  ‘That’s given me a very good picture,’ said Angela thoughtfully. ‘In fact, you’ve done better than you realise. Well, perhaps we should get to work now. Where do you suggest we begin?’

  ‘She kept all her personal papers in the spare bedroom, in the bureau. I rather think it’s locked. Follow me.’

  They went upstairs, and came to a halt in front of the bureau. It was the upright kind, with a closing lid, and three layers of drawers underneath. The first were half width drawers, and under them two full width ones, and each had its own lock. Fraser tried them all, and none would open.

  ‘I was pretty sure she kept it locked,’ said Fraser, ‘but I’ve no idea where the key is.’

  ‘Let’s think,’ Angela replied. ‘If you were her, and you wanted a secret place for the key, where would you put it?’

  ‘I can’t imagine wanting to lock anything away. Why would I do that? I shared everything with Edie.’

  ‘I think you’re going to have to accept that she functioned differently. It seems there were things she wanted to keep to herself. So what would she have done? Put it in a handbag, perhaps?’

  ‘I let the Charity lady take all those with her clothes. They were so personal, I didn’t want them around.’

  ‘Oh dear – are we going to have to go rushing round to the Charity shop?’

  ‘I don’t think so, because I did say please check inside the bags, and I gave them a box for any items they came across. They found a few things – coins, receipts, and so on – and left them in the box – and there was no key among them.’

  ‘Where else, then, do you think?’

  ‘It would need to be somewhere that I wouldn’t notice her putting it away, so obviously not anywhere in our bedroom. More likely, I suppose, to be in here as I rarely came here.’

  Angela started looking round. She tried the bedside tables by the twin beds, but they were empty, apart from a box of tissues. Then her eyes lit on a small console table in the corner. It was rectangular, and had two small drawers in it, and several framed family pictures on top. The drawers contained a few pieces of costume jewellery and some early photos of the grandchildren – but that was all. Then she noticed that the top was hinged. She removed the pictures and lifted it up. The contents of the drawers were now on display. She was about to close it again when it occurred to her that the drawers were very shallow – the depth of the table would have allowed for deeper drawers. She pulled them right out, and saw underneath a secret compartment – a small, built-in box, with a sliding lid. She removed the lid – and inside was a key.

  Fraser’s heart began to beat faster. He took the key and inserted it into the lock on the lid of the bureau, turned it, and heard the click. One by one he undid all the locks.

  ‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Now it begins.’ He sat down on the chair in the corner and put his head into his hands.

  ‘I have to ask,’ Angela said. ‘Are you sure you want me to do this?’

  ‘Yes,’ he groaned. ‘It must be done. Please go ahead.’

  Angela drew up a chair and sat down. First she did a quick look through, and saw that the compartments at the top were neatly filled with various stationery items. The top drawer on the left had financial papers, the one on the right seemed to contain official documents, the middle drawer had photographs and some personal letters, and the bottom drawer contained travel brochures, and some other papers. She remarked on all this to Fraser, and then started at the top.

  There were notelets, birthday cards, pads of writing paper, envelopes of different sizes, pens and pencils, and an address book. In the corner compartment there were some small cards, the front of which had pink hearts all over them. She opened the address book and flipped over the filled pages. This was not the time to tell Fraser that she had made a study of Graphology – interpreting character from handwriting – but as soon as she opened the book and saw the marked backward slant of the writing she knew it belonged to someone with a strong tie to the past. The long, wide loops of the lower zone also revealed a writer with an emotional nature. She began to comment out loud on what she was seeing, and asked, ‘Did Edie ever use a computer?’

  ‘No, she liked to handwrite everything, especially in the later years. When we were first married she had a small, portable Olivetti typewriter, which lasted for a long time. But when it eventually gave up, she decided she preferred to handwrite. She never was one for modern technology, and computers frightened her. It’s different for modern generations who grow up with them, and they’re second nature – we older folk who haven’t had any training can find them difficult.’

  ‘That’s very true – fortunately I did learn to use them, and find them a great asset, but lots of older people haven’t done so. I must say it’s all very neatly arranged. I’ll start on the first drawer, the financial one.’

  This contained bank statements, old cheque books, and Angela found the latest one, half used. She did not feel comfortable abut looking into these, and asked Fraser if he wished to have them.

  ‘No, it’s as we said at the beginning, I want to use you as an objective observer who has no interest personally. You have my full permission to look into things and tell me what you see. She had a Savings Account,
which I set up for her, and over the past twenty years or more I’ve paid in sums of money, whenever I had some spare. She was, of course, free to use it whenever she chose – she could transfer money from there to her Current Account, and she certainly didn’t have to ask permission. But I did ask her to think of it as a sort of insurance for old age, in case I suddenly dropped down dead. That’s rather ironical, isn’t it? So without knowing anything precisely, I would think there should be somewhere between £100,000 and £150,000 in her Savings Account.’

  ‘There’s a statement here, with the latest balance, which is given as £15,565.56.’

  ‘That must be the Current Account – and it shouldn’t have all that money in it, really.’

  ‘No, it’s the Savings Account – it says so at the top. I’ll find the Current Account documents.’ She delved further and came up with another set of statements. ‘That has £7,689.49 in it.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Fraser. ‘Where’s all that money gone? What do the details say?’

  ‘The Savings Account simply says that amounts have been transferred to the Current Account. The statements do not go back very far, but she seems to have been transferring money for a while. The Current Account shows some amounts taken out as cash, and a great many cheques drawn on the account. I’ll see if the cheque book stubs are here.’

  She searched further, and found a brown envelope at the bottom of the drawer. Inside there were notes – a lot of them, totalling over £2,000. She saw the cheque book, and opened it. The stubs were filled in with amounts, but there were no payees’ names written in. An amount of £500 was paid out regularly on the first of each month, and this had been going on for the life of that cheque book. She couldn’t find any other old ones. She passed this information on.

  Fraser thought for a bit. ‘The cash could have been for the car which Joanna claims her mother had promised to buy her. I don’t know why she would do that, but it shows her kindness – and certainly doesn’t justify Joanna’s outburst against her. Joanna also said that her mother had been giving her money. I wonder if those payments of £500 are what she meant. And what possible reason could there be for Edie to do that?’