An Old Score

by Edie Baylis

  Taken aback, Teagan faltered. ‘Are you alright? I heard a crash... I...’

  ‘How did you get into my house?’ Dulcie cried. ‘Get out! Do you hear me?’ She picked up a shoe; an old shoe with a high kitten heel and a strap across the front and raised it.

  Teagan froze. ‘I’m Teagan. I’m from the agency you...’

  ‘Where is he?’ Dulcie yelled.

  Teagan inched closer. ‘Dulcie, you ne...’

  ‘I said, where is he?’ Dulcie screamed, her eyes wide. ‘He promised me! Why are you in my house?’

  For the first time, Teagan felt unnerved. Was Dulcie sleepwalking or dreaming? ‘I heard a crash. I wanted to make sure you were ok.’

  Dulcie’s whole countenance, along with her aggressive posturing slumped like the wind had fallen from her sails. She peered at Teagan. ‘Oh God...’ She glanced across the other side of the room. ‘The cabinet. It fell... I...’

  Teagan followed Dulcie’s gaze, spotting a tall, thin cabinet lying face down on the polished floorboards. ‘This cabinet didn’t land on you, did it?’

  Dulcie shook her head. ‘I was trying to move the rug. It just... it just toppled...’

  Slowly approaching, Teagan dared to reach out. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort this out tomorrow. As long as you’re not hurt.’ Having made contact with Dulcie’s bony arm, she steered her towards a chair in front of the large dressing table. ‘Come and sit down here for a moment an...’

  ‘Get off that!’ Dulcie screeched. ‘That’s his chair. That’s where he puts his things.’

  Teagan quickly dropped her arm and kept her voice calm and neutral. ‘Let’s get you back to bed.’

  ‘I am in my bedroom, you silly girl! Can’t you see?’ Dulcie waved her arms around the room. ‘Where are my cigarettes? I want a cigarette.’

  Teagan risked taking hold of Dulcie’s arm once more. She had to get her back to bed. Although this was a beautiful room, this was not the one Dulcie used. ‘Let’s get you out of here and I’ll fetch your cigarettes.’

  Dulcie resisted for a few seconds before being steered out of the room. She stared up at Teagan pleadingly. ‘If he comes back whilst I’m gone, you’ll tell him where to find me, won’t you? He won’t know where to look if I’m not in here.’

  Teagan smiled convincingly, although she felt anything but. ‘Of course. Now, let’s go and find your cigarettes.’

  ‘Can you get me some more tomorrow?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ She’d get Dulcie back to her room and stay while she smoked a cigarette. There was no way she could leave in case she burnt the place down. Hopefully then she’d go back to sleep.

  Whatever happened, she now knew she had no choice but to get into contact with Helen.

  Seven

  ‘THAT’S A GOOD IDEA. I’LL SEE YOU THERE AT 10.’ Teagan ended the call, glad Helen had suggested to meet at the newsagents down the end of the road, rather than at the house.

  Teagan still felt like she was going behind Dulcie’s back, but she desperately needed some background information, but wanted to get it without Dulcie feeling she was betraying her confidence.

  Teagan glanced at the clock. She’d better get moving – it was almost 8. Opening her text messages her finger hovered over the ‘Compose text’ button and, despite her misgivings, gave into the urge to text Joe again.

  Morning gorgeous xx Miss you xx

  Finding she’d got the knack of holding the phone at just the angle needed to squeeze enough network signal, the text to Joe sent without delay. Leaving the phone on the windowsill, she hurried downstairs to prepare Dulcie’s breakfast.

  ‘Good morning,’ Dulcie said brightly as Teagan walked into the sitting room.

  ‘Oh!’ Teagan exclaimed, looking at Dulcie; dressed, hair coiffed and full make-up - her lack of sleep hadn’t seemed to have affected her at all. ‘I didn’t expect you to be up. I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure I get up earlier tomorrow, I...’

  ‘No need,’ Dulcie smiled. ‘I’ve made a pot of tea. Come and sit down.’

  Teagan poured herself a cup of tea from the beautifully hand-painted teapot, then sat down. She should be the one to do all of this.

  ‘It took me a while to find where you’d put the tea tin,’ Dulcie said, an eyebrow arched.

  ‘I’m sorry. I should have checked with you before I moved the kitchen around.’

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ Dulcie said. ‘The last woman – ghastly she was, moved things to the most illogical places. I’m sure she did it on purpose! Did you sleep well?’

  Teagan paused. Did Dulcie not remember what had happened last night? If she had no recollection, she must have been sleepwalking. Should she say something?

  No. At least not yet. She didn’t want to embarrass the poor woman. ‘Erm, yes... fine...’

  Dulcie nodded approvingly. ‘Good, that’s good... So, when will I meet this young man of yours?’

  ‘Joe?’ Teagan said, surprised. ‘Oh, I don’t know... I...’ Her face fell slightly as the knowledge that he hadn’t contacted her pushed sharply into her mind.

  ‘Why don’t you invite him round one afternoon?’ Dulcie said, frowning at the expression on Teagan’s face. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

  Teagan shrugged. ‘Oh, it’s just... I texted him yesterday and... and he didn’t get back to me. I...’

  ‘Don’t let that worry you, my dear. He’s probably beside himself imagining being without you for the next six months,’ Dulcie laughed.

  Teagan smiled weakly, guilt forming that she had no intention of remaining here for anywhere near that length of time.

  ‘Hasn’t he asked to marry you yet? Is that it?’ Dulcie cried. ‘Pah, that means nothing. If you love him, then you’ll wait. Wait for as long as it takes...’ Her voice drifted off and her gaze reverted to staring through the large double doors into the garden. The silence weighed heavily as her fingers played with her cigarette packet.

  ‘I’ll go and get some more cigarettes for you in a little while,’ Teagan said breezily in an attempt to bring the lady out of the trance-like state she’d drifted back off into.

  Dulcie’s attention returned. ‘My cigarettes? Oh, how good of you to notice I’m running low.’

  Teagan moved to clear the china away. If Dulcie had forgotten she’d asked her to get more cigarettes, then she really didn’t have any memory of last night.

  JONAH NODDED TO JIM as he opened the wide entrance door to the club, moving his massive frame to one side. Despite his increasing foul mood and the remnants of a particularly bad hangover, Jonah wanted to retain his reputation of being respectful to his hard-working staff.

  As he proceeded through the foyer, his black shoes sinking into the deep pile burgundy carpet, Jonah glanced at the large gold plume of feathers emblem on the wall behind the reception desk, pleased to see it gleamed impressively under the illumination of the heavy chandeliers suspended by thick gold chains from the high ceiling.

  He liked to ensure the club gave off the impression he wanted – high class. And it did. Maintaining that would ensure the high-paying clientele would keep returning and the waiting list for VIP membership remained at an all-time high.

  Things were ticking over very nicely in this part of the business as well as most of the other parts of the firm. Jonah knew he had a good, trusted and reliable staff – many of whom he’d inherited or previously worked alongside. Others had been drafted in at his request. All in all, things couldn’t be going any better. The Feathers reputation for being one of the best, if not the best club in Soho, had stood for many years – all through the period his father had run it and he was pleased that he had maintained the excellent standards.

  Although Soho was widely known for its Gentlemen’s clubs, The Feathers offered a lot more than that. Admittedly, the shows were risqué, but more burlesque cabaret, rather than a classic strip show and with The Feathers sumptuous and lavish surroundings and rich and powerful clientele, it attracted a mix of both male and female customers –
the place to be for anyone who was anyone.

  Yes, everything was going well. Apart from Saul insisting Jonah take the heavy handed approach. That and what was going on at home right now.

  Jonah’s handsome face hardened as he clenched his jaw in irritation, thinking of Lena. What Gwen had told him this morning had irritated him profusely and something he would have to do something about.

  Jonah had inherited Gwen from his father’s days of running The Feathers. His father had always very much trusted Gwen’s judgement and left her to take charge of the girls and run the shows in the way she saw fit. She’d always done a great job and so there had been no reason whatsoever why he should have altered that when he’d taken the reins.

  His father’s judgment, as always, had proved right. Gwen would have been his choice for the position anyway.

  In fact, there was more to it than that.

  After his mother’s death, Gwen had been the one out of everyone who had helped him the most and he would never forget that. As a scared and lost young lad, she’d been the one who’d given him the time and the confidence – making him realise that he could go to her with anything. She was a little diamond and he trusted her implicitly and so when she’d taken him to one side, awkwardly voicing her concerns about how Lena had taken it upon herself to elbow her way into what had been meticulously arranged, he wasn’t pleased. Even worse was learning Lena had gone even further and sacked two of the girls.

  Lena had overstepped the mark. Her leaving the stage show was something he’d agreed with at the time. She’d been right when she’d said it wasn’t fitting, being as now she belonged to him. That was one thing, but nowhere had he given her the right to swan in and order the girls about, changing their dance slots or who they staged with. He would not put up with her coming in here and pissing off the rest of the girls and certainly not upsetting Gwen.

  Jonah clenched his teeth, surprised they hadn’t worn down to stumps the way he’d been grinding them lately. He may not be able to change some things, but he could sort this.

  As much as he didn’t like to admit it, he’d been slack where Lena was concerned. As well as her ever increasing demands, she’d even started changing things around in his house. He’d been so wrapped up with putting his all into the firm he’d ignored all of the warning signs where she was concerned and he shouldn’t have done.

  Pushing open the door from the foyer into the staff only corridor, Jonah winked at one of his showgirls scuttling down the corridor to one of the many dressing rooms.

  The blonde dressed in a skimpy leotard and sky-high stilettoes beamed at him. ‘Hello Mr Powell,’ she said, her face tilting up coquettishly, before hurrying off.

  Despite his mood, Jonah grinned, his handsome face relaxing. He couldn’t remember that girl’s name, she’d be an ideal candidate to take his mind off what was weighing heavily.

  Bursting into his office, he walked to his desk and sat down heavily in his chair. Glancing at his Rolex, he waited for Nero and Keith to arrive so he could instruct them with what he wanted to happen next regarding Dulcie Adams.

  Unlike the problems Lena was bringing to the table, locating Dulcie Adams would bring long awaited benefits, including the end to an issue that had haunted him, his family and their firm for far too long.

  Eight

  HELEN DIDN’T HAVE MUCH TIME TO SPARE before meeting her next client and couldn’t afford to be late, so drove rapidly towards where she’d arranged to meet Teagan. The prospect of being pleasant to the pointless girl was irritating beyond belief, but it would pay to keep her on side. She didn’t want to go to Footlights and discuss her mother where there was a possibility of her being within hearing distance. She did not want to give any reason, however small, for suspicion.

  Overtaking a car crawling along at a leisurely rate, her brain fizzed with irritation. James had been on at her again this morning; pressing for her to take a few days off to sort medical tests out for her mother.

  Helen scowled. Her mother didn’t need medical tests – she just needed to be removed as far away as possible as quickly as possible. But she could hardly expect James to understand that. As far as he was concerned, she was being ‘uncharitable’ over her mother’s diminishing mental health.

  If that’s the way James saw it, then that was absolutely fine. He didn’t have a clue.

  Helen gnawed at her lip, mindful that she mustn’t get lipstick on her teeth.

  As for Robert - he was another problem. There had always been something amiss where she, Robert and their mother were concerned, but she’d never been able to put her finger on it. He’d always been her mother’s favourite and she’d always felt she’d been treated slightly differently to him.

  Rounding the corner and spotting Teagan nearing the shop, Helen drew her sleek silver Mercedes up to the kerb alongside. Lowering the tinted passenger window, she leant across and beckoned towards the empty passenger seat.

  Teagan opened the door, hit with the smell of leather combined with freshly valeted car and clambered into the sumptuous seat. Helen stepped on the accelerator and continued down the road without saying another word.

  ‘Thanks for making the time to meet me,’ Teagan spluttered, eyeing Helen’s navy blue tailored suit and her immaculately styled hair. ‘I don’t want to be a nuisance.’

  Helen turned to Teagan. Yes, she was a bloody nuisance, but she must remember she needed the girl on side however aggravating it was. ‘You’re not a nuisance. Like I said before, any issues - call me.’ She pulled into the small car park of a children’s play area, killed the engine and smiled. ‘Now what’s bothering you?’

  Teagan faltered. ‘I could do with an insight on what you touched on before. I would have asked more at the time, but... well, it seemed it was upsetting your brother and then Dulcie came in and...’

  ‘Dulcie?’ Helen’s eyebrows raised. ‘Acting like your best friend already is she? I’m sorry about that, she does like to get very familiar.’

  Personally, Teagan liked that Dulcie was so pleasant and approachable; not what she would class as ‘overfamiliar’ and certainly nothing to apologise for. ‘Erm, you mentioned dementia and I just wondered how it tends to affect her? As in I...’

  ‘What’s she done now?’ Helen sighed, worry bubbling. If her mother had pulled another stunt like that TV interview, then perhaps she needed to adjust the dosage of her special medication?

  ‘Nothing particularly.’ Teagan didn’t want to mention the trance-like states and the sleepwalking just yet. ‘I just need to know if she wanders off or leaves the house at all? Could she be a danger to herself? Any medication I need to make sure she takes?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘No. Well, not as yet, although I can only presume things will get worse as time goes on.’ That was the plan, at least. ‘And there’s no medication other than the vitamins. They’re very important because it’s all I can do at the moment to keep her healthy.’ The vitamins were more than important – they were what would get her out of this mess.

  Helen sighed. ‘Mother told us wonderful stories when we were children.’ She pretended to smile fondly at the memories. ‘Both myself and Robert were enthralled by her fantastical tales of mythical creatures, fairies, dragons, handsome princes... She had a way with words... she still does.’

  Teagan studied Helen, the serious and professional expression replaced with a childlike wonder.

  Helen smiled sadly. ‘Oh, how I loved her stories. They were so good and realistic. The type of story to transport you to another world, but her life has now become one of these stories... It’s got so very much worse recently...’ She looked down at her perfectly manicured nails. ‘I’ve suspected dementia for a while, but Robert wouldn’t hear a word of it. He’s only recently begun to accept that I’m right. But like you’ve quite rightly noticed, he isn’t happy about it.’

  Teagan smiled kindly. ‘It must be hard fo...’

  ‘Robert finds it embarrassing,’ Helen interrupted. ‘Our mothe
r has been telling anyone who will listen a whole load of made up nonsense. It’s like she’s written a story in her own head of what she’d wanted her life to be like, rather than what it actually was. It's very sad.’

  Teagan frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  Helen rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, lots of things. Mainly, she goes on like she was some kind of red carpet celebrity. She makes out that she was friendly with celebrities...’

  ‘She did say that she worked at a pl...’

  ‘See!’ Helen raised her hands. ‘By the sounds of it she’s already given you clap-trap. What has she said?’

  Teagan hadn’t planned on recounting any of the conversations she’d had with Dulcie, but seeing the despair on Helen’s face, she felt obliged to tell her at least part of it. ‘Not much really. Just about the dancer bits and something about a club. She showed me a photograph...’

  Helen stared up at the car roof, her head pressed against the padded leather headrest. ‘Oh God, I knew it. That’s why Robert wants rid of all that ridiculous paraphernalia she hoards. I have to say I agree with him. It only encourages her delusions.’ She turned back to Teagan. ‘My mother did work at a club. That’s where she met our father. He worked behind the bar and she... well... You should have heard the kind of stuff she was coming out with when I was stupid enough to take her to one of my business functions. Never again.’

  Teagan made murmuring noises in the hope that it would sound comforting. So, their father had worked at the club Dulcie had mentioned?

  Helen shook her head sadly. ‘Our father died when I was about five years old when my mother was pregnant with Robert.’

  Teagan’s mouth fell open. That’s why Dulcie had closed up about her husband. ‘Oh, how awful! I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I think that’s why Robert hates all the things mother’s been saying. He hates anything to do with talk of the clubs. I guess he associates that with what killed our father.’