‘Then — ’ he prompted quietly.
Her long, fine fingers fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. ‘Then, yes. This is difficult because I’m breaking a promise. I swore to Helen I would never speak of this — I really did think when it happened that you should know but... she was so embarrassed, so shocked, it was really humiliating for her. That day I came to see you at Hambling, I spent the evening at Woodside. Two of Helen’s friends came round, we played whist. Very soon after they’d left, about a quarter to eleven, there was a ring at the front door... She told him about the lay-figure in the porch.
He did a double-take. For once, she’d astonished him. ‘An inflatable... ’
‘Yes. Gruesome, nasty. I can’t tell you what it was like trying to explain it to Helen.’
‘Did she understand?’
‘Well, she understood something, I’m not quite sure what. Oh, it’s all right, I know it’s funny in a ghastly way. At the time I had to calm her down, reassure her, so... ’ She explained how she had disposed of it the following morning. He sat back, shaking his head, but before he could speak she said, ‘I know, I know, it was wrong. But you have no idea what sort of a state Helen was in — and she was convinced it was someone malicious, playing this cruel trick... I must admit I agreed with her then — now, I can see — ’
‘Yes, we’ll come to that, let’s keep this in sequence.’
‘Oh, I see, yes. I insisted then that Reggie must come back from Cheltenham — if she was being persecuted, she needed his protection. That was the way I saw it,’ she gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘There I was, at it again — the wrong thing for the right reasons. Because he came home, and he killed himself. At least, to all appearances — but you know I won’t accept that. So what I did, after his funeral, I went round all the neighbours closest to Helen and asked them if they’d seen anyone — anyone at all going into Woodside the morning Reggie died.’ She paused and looked at him challengingly. ‘Are you going to say I shouldn’t have done?’
‘You can do what you want with your own time. You’re not interfering with any on-going investigation. You’re being very determined and resourceful. No, Liz, there’s no need to be defensive. Go on.’
‘Well, there's a family recently moved three doors down. Of course, they were all out except Mrs Maltravers, but I had a good talk with her. She saw someone going down the pathway at the end of the gardens — later on that same morning.’
‘Someone?’
‘Yes. She thought it was the old boy who always walks there twice a day — but it was too late for him. As she’s new she didn’t realise he had set times. I went to see his daughter, just to make sure he hadn’t altered them or anything, and she told me he’s been away — at his son’s since before Reggie died. So it couldn’t have been him.’
‘I’ll hand it to you, you’ve gone about this really thoroughly, and I don’t want to discourage you, but... You said this woman lives three houses away. On an ordinary road that’s nothing — in Woodside it could be a mile. Somebody going down the back could be going anywhere. Turning off before they reached your aunt’s. Man or woman?’
‘She couldn’t tell — she just assumed it was a man because she assumed it was Mr Truelove — but it was a glimpse of someone across a distance, and all covered up in waterproofs. But there is a back way to Helen’s, you have to know about it because it’s not obvious — although even if you didn’t know, if you were really looking, you’d find it. But it did occur to me — the person who dumped that ghastly lay-figure might have come in the back way. I did go and have a look — the morning after that episode, but how could I tell? I don’t know how to recognise clues and things.’
‘You’re doing damn well, girl. So, after seeing the neighbours, you went along to the Railway and spoke to Doris. Woman to woman.’ He was so obviously taken with the notion she looked at him defensively until he added, ‘That must have been quite something.’ What he was thinking — he couldn’t say — Liz and Annette, shining in that scuffed, workaday place...
‘As a matter of fact, she was really nice. And I thought she was very perceptive.’ She told him, briefly, what Doris had to say about the meeting, then about what had happened to Beattie’s mother. ‘You didn’t know about her, did you?’
‘No, I didn’t. And I must admit it’s a new idea a third party introducing them.’ The woman in Katie’s Kaff with Beattie... there was no reason to assume a connection, but the time fitted. ‘And that brings us up to today — finding the bracelet.’ Beattie had told people her mystery man took her somewhere ‘ever so nice’. He thought of Liz’s house: the bend in the lane, the sheltering trees and high hedges; geographically, no house could be more disposed for secrecy. He thought how beautiful he had found it — to Beattie it would have been heaven. George Wither’s original impression had been that Reggie had taken Beattie to the posh house with the garden big enough for a swimming pool — that would have to be revised, the description certainly didn’t fit Liz’s. And perhaps he had just shown her, described it... And they had always taken it for granted that the house was in Hambling, but now, that might not necessarily be the case. It could be in the surrounding area, anywhere and — a startling possibility — lived in by the man who had attempted to kill Beattie’s mother. ‘We don’t know why he took her to your house. According to your theory they planned strategy over a bottle of wine. But isn’t that overlooking the obvious? I know she was blowsy and common — but men are men — that could have been the type that turned him on. That’s not something he’d be likely to tell you, is it?’
‘No. I’m not saying there wasn’t an element of sex — well, maybe sexual attraction, but I don’t think it ever went beyond that.’ She had all too often doubted that Reggie had ever had it in his life, but it would be the ultimate betrayal to say so. ‘Reggie was easily flattered in the first place. If she was presentable and appealed to his gallantry, he could have been attracted to her. As for not being seen about with her in Hambling — I can think of two good reasons. First, he wouldn’t want word to get back to Helen he was being seen about with a bit of a tart. Second, we don’t know what sort of contact, if any, they’d made with this man — the man who had behaved so brutally to Beattie’s mother. It might have been necessary for them to lie low for a certain time. Maybe never reveal themselves, just make Beattie’s demands and then... ’
She looked lost, she hadn’t thought beyond that point.
‘Take the money and run.’
‘Well, that would be the whole point, wouldn’t it?’
He was not so sure, but nothing in his attitude indicated this. She was giving him a great deal more to think about than she realised. ‘Have you done anything else?’
She was abstracted. ‘Such as?’
‘The way you’re carrying on it could be anything.’
She gazed at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged. ‘What else is there to do? I’ve thought and I’ve thought and I have a feeling — no, I don’t have any evidence — that it all started out as a bit of a lark for him, then it got out of hand. Maybe he wanted to back out and found he couldn’t. He might not have been told the whole truth of the situation in the first place.’
‘Beattie was a pretty tough customer. She’d had to fight for her existence since she was a kid. He wouldn’t have been a match for her if she decided to cut up rough.’
‘No... That last evening. I know Reggie so well, how he behaved when he’d got himself into a jam. He’d just take himself out of the way, mess about. He really, really believed that if he made himself scarce, by the time he surfaced again the situation would have put itself right. I’m convinced that’s what he was doing that night, standing Beattie up, getting as far away as possible. Look, the anonymous phone call — he kept his meetings with her secret — but that person knew. Why do people make anonymous calls?’
‘All sorts of reasons. Sheer malice. Reggie’s name would have to be known to this person but there need be absolutely no other
connection — just someone with a mental kink wanting to make mischief. Someone with a grudge against him — it could be for something absolutely trivial — again malicious enough to want to cause him embarrassment. Someone not necessarily guilty of anything who stands to lose by being implicated in some way — therefore lands him firmly in it before he can defend himself. An accomplice — same reason, strike first and shove it all on Reggie. Or... the murderer, to save his skin.’
She was listening to him very carefully; at this she nodded. ‘This man they were tracking down. If they’d revealed themselves to him, he could know quite a bit about them — their movements, their arrangements. He could have been the one Beattie was with that night — the one who murdered her.'
He had given a great deal of thought to this, several steps ahead of her. ‘You could very well be right.’
‘But I can’t think now, what else to do, where else to go.’
‘That’s just as well. Leave it now, Liz. You’ve been very thorough, leave it to me now. No, I’m not promising anything, I couldn’t at this stage, I need to turn things over in my mind. Anyway, you’ll be back at school next week, won’t you?’
‘Yes.’
Out of harm’s way. A very unpleasant possibility had been growing on him. For the present, he filed it away in the corner of his mind. ‘How much of this did you tell Annette?’
‘Just my theory — about Beattie finding the man — ’
‘Not about the lay-figure — or your enquiries round the neighbours?’
‘No. And obviously not the bracelet because I only found it today. Why?’
‘It’s just,’ he said with grim politeness, ‘that I do like to be one step ahead of my staff.’
Nineteen
Over the weekend Liz stayed with Helen at Woodside. It was what they both needed, to be quietly together. Friends, relatives, acquaintances; dear, vague Uncle William — all had returned to their everyday concerns.
Liz suggested Saturday shopping in Hambling; Helen said, ‘You go, darling, meet your friends for coffee and gossip.’
Liz would not sink to the blackmailing simplicity of I’m not going without you. She had a suspicion that Helen had not been into Hambling since Reggie’s funeral — which to Liz was entirely understandable. She was young and tough and had learnt how to outstare anyone; Helen was made of more fragile stuff, her grief deeper. She would need time to re-encounter the faces, the routines she and Reggie had taken for granted all their adult lives. So Liz suggested Chester. It took no more than token persuasion.
The afternoon drive home gave her time to consider. There were things she needed to speak to Helen about, delicate and difficult ground to cover. She had to make a start somewhere. ‘I was at Stavely yesterday evening, with Mr Hunter.’ Helen said how nice, darling, looking politely at a loss, so Liz had to remind her who Hunter was. When this registered, Helen asked in a baffled way, ‘Why on earth did you do that?’
‘He asked me,’ Liz said reasonably.
‘Oh... You must think me stupid, what a crass question. Of course he would want to take you out. He’s very attractive, mature... Not married?’
‘Divorced.’
It made Liz smile. Helen needed the merest dulcet exclamation to convey how very sensible it was of Hunter to be single and to have the good taste to take her to Stavely. ‘And, um, we did have things to talk about.’ When Helen let this pass without any comment for some time, Liz prompted gently. ‘Helen... About Reggie — ’
Helen sounded tired. ‘So I assume. I’d rather leave it, for the present.’
Hurriedly — oh, yes, of course... it can wait... The coward’s way out. Although, driving through the damp, shrouded Cheshire lanes was not the best time for a serious talk. She would have to make sure the weekend did not slip past taking the right moment with it; she was not the only person who knew about Reggie’s meeting with Beattie — other people, unnumbered, unknown, also knew. It could only be a matter of time before word got round to Helen. I have to be the one to tell her.
But left to her own thoughts, she was free to recall the end of her evening with Hunter. On the drive home he told her he would be away over the weekend, in the Lake District, walking with friends; they went regularly, stayed in a cottage with no telephone. When he saw her to her door, he seemed to be inwardly absorbed with some problem. He said, ‘I’d like to see you again, please. Next weekend. Shall I phone you when you come home?’
She said yes, please, and he took both her hands. ‘You’ll be safely tucked away in Surrey next week. Don’t do anything in the meanwhile, will you? I’m not sure I’m happy about being away and you here on the loose.’
‘I’ll be staying with Helen at Woodside.’
‘Good,’ he sounded relieved, absently kissed her cheek. ‘Take care of yourself, girl.’
*
Tea in front of the fire seemed to Liz the best moment. Helen had planned the evening: a quiet supper, then the Dalrymples for whist. Liz, visited by a lightning-flash of the lay-figure, streaming and obscene in the porch after the last whist evening, marvelled at Helen’s fortitude. It was that decided her.
‘Helen — I know this is difficult, but if we could just have a few words now, then we can talk more — or not — as you please. There’s something I have to say to you because I feel its dishonest of me to know something about Reggie that you should know.’
Helen said nothing. She sat in her armchair, the fine china saucer restful in her hands; she was gazing at the fire. Liz thought — is she listening? ‘It’s always been understood between us that Reggie’s apology in his last note was for causing you distress. We never believed he had anything to do with Beattie. I’m afraid we were wrong. The police have found an eye-witness to their meeting. It was in a pub in Chatfield in the summer and — and there were other occasions... Not my house, you don’t need to know that; the house you bought me, that he used... Helen’s lack of response was unnerving. ‘You do understand I had to tell you. The police know, other people — it’s the kind of thing that you want to be kept quiet but becomes common knowledge. Sooner or later Paula’s bound to get to know and it would be — ’
Helen turned a calm face to her. That she was suffering was evident; but there was no shock, no rejection. ‘I knew there had to be something like that. Waiting to be found out.’
Liz stared at her, dumb.
‘My dear, I’ve known him all my life. I knew he was lying to me. I asked him, and he lied. Not because he’d done anything wrong, but because he was ashamed of the type of woman he’d chosen to associate with.’
Liz found her voice. ‘Nobody knows what their exact relationship was... Perhaps some ill-advised flirtation... As for him choosing to associate with her — I think he was somehow, goodness knows how, inveigled into well, say, taking her out, giving her money. I think he’d very soon change his mind, try to call it all off — but if she was perhaps overbearing, determined to hang on to him... ’ Liz stumbled on, feeling the burden of knowledge of so many things and the necessity of keeping them from Helen.
The instinct to protect, colliding with the desire to comfort, produced a confusion from which, amazingly, a new thought emerged. Beattie might not just have been using him to hunt down the man who had wrecked her mother’s life. She might have been threatening him. ‘Helen, she could have been blackmailing him, not necessarily for money, but to maintain the relationship — ’
‘I’ve thought of that. I’ve thought of everything since he died. Knowing, knowing this detail or that, this reason or that, isn’t going to bring him back. When he denied all knowledge of that woman — just for an instant — I believed him. Then I knew it wasn’t true. But I never, for one moment, let him know that. He needed my love, my good opinion; I thought that by letting him keep his deception I was helping him. Even though he was driven to such a dreadful act of despair, his comfort would be that I believed in him.’
For a moment, Liz wondered if Helen had been under so much strain she w
as not, temporarily, as mentally stable as she should be. Then she saw how necessary it was — this painful double-think. Helen had been building resolution to carry her into the future; she found it in the conviction that she had not let her brother down.
Liz thought, I can’t cope with this. Only she had to, and there was no easy way of saying it. ‘There’s an assumption — people — not everyone — some people think Reggie’s suicide was an act of remorse. His good name, his memory, is tarnished. We can’t allow — ’
‘Liz, you’re getting into such a coil about this. You’ve just given a very good reason why he could be guilty. Victims frequently kill their blackmailers, I believe.’
Liz, mortified, feeling twelve years old, understanding nothing, incapable of looking beyond the limits of her own absurd assumptions, sat in silence.
‘No, of course he’s not guilty — we know that, the people who care about him know that. What on earth does it matter about anyone else? Ignorant, spiteful, credulous people are going to say what they’re going to say and no amount of evidence or proof will stop them. Darling, I understand your idealism, I would expect no less of you. But the important thing now is to rebuild our lives, not — keep returning to this — picking it over — ’
‘This is awful — as if I’m some kind of — vulture. I just truly, truly believe there’s a way of proving him innocent, if only — ’
‘Vulture, nonsense. I know your motives are of the best, they do you credit.’ Helen reached out, took her hand and held it. ‘Liz, I am so tired of trying to make sense of this. For my sake, for his sake, let him rest in peace, in the peace of our love.’
She agreed, of course, the emotional pressure was irresistible. Evening, supper, whist with the Dalrymples... It was almost as if nothing had ever happened, and before she went to sleep in the room at Woodside that was always ‘Liz’s room’ she thought again of how unfeeling she had been to try to deprive Helen of comfort. If Helen wanted to draw a line under everything, then, that was what she must do. And Sheldon had insisted, too — leave it now, Liz. Perhaps... the faint hope stirred; perhaps, given time, Helen might feel differently. But at least they’d got it all said and done, it wasn’t going to hang over her for the rest of the weekend.
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