False fire

by Veronica Heley

  ‘Good idea. I’ll put it to her when we meet up.’ He was relaxed.

  Bea could hear the thrum of the car, on a steady forty miles per hour?

  What was Neil planning? Or perhaps they’d got it all wrong and he wasn’t planning anything?

  Bea said, ‘What about your chauffeur. Do you usually feed him after a long session? Would he like to join us, perhaps, when you get back?’

  Leon wasn’t a snob, exactly, but she didn’t think he would normally invite his chauffeur to share a dish with him. She was snatching at straws. If Leon passed on the suggestion and Neil accepted it, then he might not carry through whatever plan he had in mind for the car. He might decide to postpone whatever he’d planned for Alicia so that he could pot more than one bird at a time.

  Leon laughed, a little surprised, a little annoyed. ‘I think he’d rather get off home at the end of a long day. Good of you to ask.’ She could hear him mentally chalking one up against her for the suggestion. Not what Sir Leon Holland expected of his friends.

  Mel was making gestures to Bea, who said, ‘See you later, then!’ and cut off the call to Leon.

  Mel whispered, ‘Hari’s singing, “Short of petrol” to the tune of “Baa Baa Black Sheep”!’

  The two women stared at one another. Bea whispered, ‘Neil’s planning to stop in a back lane somewhere …? He’ll leave the car to get a can of petrol from the boot …?’

  Mel whispered, too, ‘Locking them in?’

  Bea wanted to scream, but refrained – with an effort. ‘And then the car bursts into flames?’

  Mel nodded. Big eyes.

  Bea made up her mind. ‘Hari’s there. He knows what to do. I’ll try to warn Leon, though I realize he might not listen.’ She pressed the number for Leon again. ‘Leon, a problem. Don’t panic. Follow Hari’s lead. Your chauffeur today is the man who set the fires the other night. He’s holding a grudge against Josh and his entire family – including Alicia.’

  ‘What!’ He was amused, rather than worried.

  She’d known he’d be slow on the uptake! ‘I’m serious, Leon. He doesn’t care who he hurts. You, or Alicia or himself!’

  ‘Ridiculous! Honestly, Bea! What will you think of next!’ And he cut the connection.

  Bea stared at Mel, and Mel stared back. Eyes wide, breathing rapid.

  What next?

  Pray!

  Bea reached forward and took her mobile from Mel. Hari was the last resort. ‘Hari, I tried to warn Leon. He won’t listen and the police think we’re mad.’

  ‘Roger. We’re going through some pretty back lanes. Not another car in sight.’

  ‘Perfect for an ambush, you’d say?’

  ‘Do you want me to take action?’

  Hari was perfectly capable of disabling Neil, but in the process the car might run out of control and crash, injuring the passengers. If only Leon had listened to Bea … if only the passengers had all been belted up … but they weren’t. So, no. They couldn’t take that route.

  Bea said, ‘Last resort. Get ready to grab the girls and abandon ship. I’m going to speak to Neil direct, tell him we know what he’s done and suggest he surrenders. It’s a long shot but it might work. Would you hold this phone up so that he can hear me?’

  On the phone Bea heard Hari say, ‘Mrs Abbot wants to speak to you, Neil.’

  Which gave away that Hari knew who Neil was and what he’d done.

  The pace of the car didn’t slow.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Abbot?’ Neil’s voice. The voice of the pseudo-policeman who’d visited her the previous day. The voice of a man who’d killed by misadventure.

  ‘Neil, we’ve worked out that it was you who set the fires on Friday evening, and why. You haven’t murdered anyone. We understand your reasons for what you did.’

  Silence, except for the smooth purr of the car.

  Bea said, ‘You are carrying a precious load in the back of your car, Neil, none of whom have ever done you any harm. I don’t think you really bear them any malice, do you?’

  Again, silence.

  ‘Hari is a trained martial arts instructor. He is in the car with you, sitting beside you, to act as bodyguard to your passengers. Slow down and let your passengers out. After all, you can’t be charged with anything but arson at the moment. Not murder. And I believe Steve would spring to employing legal representation for you. He’s distressed that your father died before he could reassure him that his work pension was safe.’

  Again, nothing. Except … did the car’s pace begin to slow?

  She said, ‘You are short of petrol, Hari says. I suppose you have a spare can in the boot?’

  Yes, the car was definitely slowing down. The engine sound was changing.

  Bea said, ‘When the car stops, tell Sir Leon that you have a mechanical problem with the car and let everyone get out to stretch their legs. Sir Leon can phone for another car to take them to the airport. Then you can go to the police and tell them what you’ve done, without getting any blood on your hands.’

  She heard the car slow to a stop.

  Neil spoke, ‘Sir Leon, we seem to have a technical fault. Would you and the children like to get out to stretch your legs while I see what can be done about it?’

  Leon’s voice, grumbling. ‘We’re going to be late picking up my sister.’

  Bernice: ‘Wake up, sleepyhead. Bring Teddy, he’ll like a spot of fresh air.’

  A whine from Alicia. ‘Must I?’

  Doors opening. Doors shutting.

  Hari, ‘OK, Mrs A. Safely out, all of us.’

  Bea said, ‘Hari, get them away from the car, now!’

  She heard Leon say, ‘What? What the—!’

  A child shrieked.

  The phone crackled.

  Whoooomph!

  Another shriek, faintly. ‘Mummy, Mummy!’

  Bea held on to the phone so tightly that her fingers hurt. ‘Hari …?’

  Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy!

  Heavy breathing. Children, crying.

  Hari, calm as always. ‘Sorry, I dropped the phone when I grabbed the children. They’re all right. A bit muddy. I threw them into the ditch. And the bear is losing an ear. Leon’s OK, torn his coat. He landed in the hedge.’

  ‘Neil?’

  ‘He’s had it. He detonated charges under his seat and in the back. He’s still in the car, burning. I’ll switch off now and phone the fire brigade.’

  NINETEEN

  Sunday evening

  Giorgio left, saying he was glad the kids were all right. He probably meant it.

  Alaric left, looking grim. Ninette followed him down the street, crying his name. He didn’t look round.

  Gideon asked Mel if he could give her a lift home. She said ‘No, thank you. I’m here to look after the children. And when I’m no longer needed, I’m taking Steve home to introduce him to my family.’

  Nice one, Mel!

  Gideon went off by himself, not looking at all happy.

  Hari arranged for a car to take himself and the children back to Bea’s while Leon stayed to do his ‘Captain of Industry’ act with the police and fire brigade. ‘No, I have no idea why my chauffeur should want to blow himself up …’

  Leon phoned his sister to tell her what had happened, advising her to make her own way home.

  Alicia was enveloped by loving arms when she arrived back at Bea’s house. Her grandfather and uncle made much of her.

  Mel tried to give equal attention to Bernice, but it was clear that Alicia had won her heart.

  Bernice was mute. Her eyes looked black against the white of her face. She was still clutching a rather dirty and even ragged Teddy. She rebuffed all Mel’s attempts to cuddle her. Mel bore both children off for a bath and to deal with their various scratches and bruises. Being thrown into a ditch hadn’t done them much good though, to be fair, Bernice had fallen on Teddy, who had come off even worse than her.

  Bea rang Manisa and told her what had happened, concluding, ‘They are all going to
heap the blame on Neil, who is conveniently dead. Greed and self-delusion are not crimes in the eyes of the law, and I don’t think you can prove that any of the others was at fault.’

  Manisa said, ‘It’s protocol to pass a report on to the police in any fire which involves children, and that I will have to do. I shall report that Neil had as good as confessed to setting the fires and that, when the truth came out, he committed suicide. I shall recommend that that verdict is accepted, and in all likelihood the file will be closed. Arson, manslaughter, and suicide.’

  ‘Thank you. Yes, I suppose that is the best we can hope for. You have been most understanding.’

  ‘I recommend you get some therapy for the children; I’ll leave you to enjoy the remainder of the day of rest.’

  Mel and Steve decided to take the children and some reheated portions of food up to the flat at the top of the house. Alicia refused to walk, and made her grandpa carry her up the stairs. Alicia was relishing physical contact with everyone. Alicia was probably going to come out of this all right, perhaps even a little spoiled.

  Bernice? She wouldn’t be so lucky. Bea watched the child plod up the stairs carrying the cream-and-ginger-biscuit cake she’d made earlier and trailing Teddy behind her. Would she turn back and ask for a kiss? No way.

  Bea decided she wouldn’t enquire whether Steve intended to share the single bed on the top floor with Mel that night, or whether she would descend to join him in the spare room on the first floor.

  Leon rang a second time, to say he’d been released by the police and was on his way back into London in another chauffeur-driven car. He had convinced himself that it was only his quick thinking that led him to rescue the children from a fiery tomb. But he’d collected a couple of nasty bruises from landing up in the hedge and torn his expensive new cashmere coat, so he was glad enough to go straight to his own home, especially as his sister Sybil was expected there at any minute.

  William came down from seeing Alicia cleaned up, working himself into a paddy. ‘Alaric is just as guilty as Neil, but he’s going to get away with it, mark my words.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ said Bea. ‘We’ve all heard Alaric promise to let you have custody of the child. Alaric won’t have to pay Alicia’s school fees any longer, but he’s still in deep doo-doos as far as the upkeep of the estate goes. And I doubt if Ninette is going to be much of a comfort to him in future.’

  ‘I suppose, but the cold-blooded way he would have sold the child to me … and Ninette’s worse! Fancy saying that my granddaughter wets the bed!’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll grow out of it now she’s got herself a new family.’ Bea thought Ninette would probably come out of it all right, too, even if she lost Alaric, because she would still have her party-organizer business.

  ‘Gideon says he’s sure Steve will see sense in the morning, and that there was no way his brother would make him bankrupt. Hah! Well, he’s going to have to look round for different premises to rent. I foresee he’ll be out of business within the year.’

  Bea wondered would it have served any purpose to have Gideon arrested for his duplicity in dealing with the Thurrocks, or for giving the bad news to his father and sister? But what could be proved? Nothing.

  Bea prayed, What should I do, Lord? And seemed to hear, Leave it to me.

  Bea wondered if Faye might indeed be able to hang on to Gideon. Perhaps she might, and perhaps not. Either way, Bea thought Faye was a survivor and would recoup the value of her lost pearls one way or another.

  Mel and Steve? There was hope for the future there.

  ‘Food?’ said William.

  ‘Of course. Masses.’ Bea wasn’t hungry, but made herself eat.

  William had two helpings, which made inroads into the remaining food pile. As the ginger-and-cream cake had disappeared upstairs, they had ice cream for afters.

  William sat back as Bea cleared the table. He sighed, replete, and eyed her sideways. ‘I suppose you’ll want me to toddle off to my hotel now?’

  ‘I’m aching for an early night. You’ve been just great. We’d never have managed without you.’ Which was partially true, and what he needed to hear. What she needed was time to recuperate. And no more complications in her life.

  She let him out into the night, and set her back against the door as a firework party started up not far away.

  ‘I’m off fireworks for good,’ she said. She turned out the lights, made sure the alarm was set, and plodded up to her room. She had a shower and was just about to crawl into bed when a small, barefoot child appeared in her doorway.

  Bernice said, ‘Alicia’s asleep, and so are Mel and Steve. Teddy can’t sleep. His ear hurts.’

  The child was white-faced, but tearless.

  Bea held back a sigh, told Bernice to pop herself into the big bed and went to fetch her sewing basket. She mended Bear’s ear, watched by Bernice.

  Bea said, ‘Poor Teddy’s been through the wars. Can you sew, Bernice? He’s so accident prone, he’s going to need running repairs.’

  ‘He’s not mine. He’s yours. He’s only on loan to me.’

  Bea thought about that. She could give Teddy to Bernice, but would it be right for such an ancient bear to be taken off to boarding school? She said, ‘He belongs to you now, but perhaps he is a bit old for school. We could find him a comfortable place to sleep here, and you could visit him in the holidays. Perhaps he can go with us to the shops to choose a younger bear who can go back to school with you, but won’t need so much looking after. What do you think?’

  A shrug. ‘Maybe.’

  Bea finished the repair job, and tried to brush some of the mud off the bear. She said, ‘Shall we give him another dry-cleaning session tomorrow?’

  Bernice didn’t reply. She took the bear into her arms, and held him tightly. She closed her eyes. After a while she began to shake.

  Delayed shock.

  Bea took the child in her arms. A thin arm went round Bea’s neck and clung to her with surprising strength. Bea prayed and sang a lullaby, over and over. They shook and shivered together, till eventually Bernice relaxed her hold on Bea and fell asleep.

  Bea gave thanks, thanks and yet more thanks. The outcome of the day’s events might have been horribly different. And so … she gave thanks.

  Five days later

  Sybil Holland descended upon London like a tornado, whirling people around in her wake. She sorted out the school – Bea wished she’d been a fly on the wall for that! She visited Bernice’s mother and stepfather, told Leon to get off his backside and start working on a golf handicap, and arrived at Bea’s house as the agency was closing for the day.

  Forewarned, Bea opened the door as Sybil alighted from a stretch limo, bony legs wayward under the weight of mink hat and coat, cashmere pashmina, and a scintillation of diamond rings.

  Sybil shook herself out, informed the chauffeur that she didn’t know how long she’d be, but she expected him to be on call nearby as she was not in the habit of being kept waiting, and demanded he give her his arm to help her up the steps to the front door. Her words were severe but her tone was soft, for her chauffeur for that visit was Hari.

  Sybil had bright orange hair this week, with purple eye shadow, false eyelashes and scarlet lipstick and nail varnish. She was dressed to impress in a scarlet two-piece, but Bea noticed that – now Sybil had reached her late eighties – she’d abandoned her high heels for more sensible shoes.

  Though, as Bea reflected, there wasn’t much else that was sensible about the habits of a cigarette-smoking harridan who could have bought the Tower of London over twice or thrice, with change left for Buckingham Palace.

  But oh … how grotesquely thin Sybil had become!

  Bea’s heart beat faster. Sybil was ill? Bea liked and admired Leon’s much older sister.

  ‘My young brother Leon,’ said Sybil, ‘hasn’t the sense he was born with. But you’ll have worked that out long ago.’ She processed into the sitting room on knees that tottered and arranged hersel
f on the settee. ‘Hand me an ashtray, will you? I know you don’t smoke but you can’t expect me to give up the habits of a lifetime. Open a window, if you must … but not too far. I feel the cold, here in London. Can’t wait to get back to California.’

  Bea opened the window a crack and provided the ashtray, without comment.

  Yes, Sybil had aged considerably since her last trip to the UK. No application of powder and paint, no amount of Botox could conceal that the hand of death was hovering about her.

  Sybil lit a cigarette, and coughed. Lung cancer? ‘Leon has suggested giving you some tomfoolery jewellery as a thank-you for saving his and Bernice’s life. I have observed you only ever wear two items at a time, usually your pearls and your engagement ring. I have therefore told him to buy you a mews cottage. There is a mews at the end of this street, is there not? It will have a garage for your car, to keep it off the street and safe from vandals. The upstairs rooms you can let out, or use as an extra office, as you see fit.’

  Bea’s jaw dropped. This was a magnificent gift. Those mews cottages went for princely sums, and a garage in Kensington was beyond price.

  ‘No need to thank me,’ said Sybil, grinning. ‘It’s not me that’ll foot the bill. I’m giving you something else. A gift you won’t thank me for. One that you’ll be cursing me for, endlessly, over the next eight years.’

  The hairs prickled down the back of Bea’s neck. ‘You’re giving me Bernice.’

  The woman flicked ash on to the carpet. ‘You’ll say you are too old. And you are. You’ll say you’re too busy. Which you are. I have discovered the child has never been christened. That omission is to be rectified and you will stand as her godmother.’

  Bea took a deep breath, but Sybil forestalled her.

  ‘There are no alternatives, and you know it. Bernice’s mother has no sense. Her stepfather is a good man, but out of his depth when it comes to handling large sums of money. The boy child they’ve produced together is a chip off the old block … hers, not his. I’ve looked into his eyes and I foresee that he’ll grow up to be of middling intelligence; a worthy sort, a probation officer, or policeman. Something of that sort. He’ll love his parents, and they’ll love him. A total love-fest. And Bernice will always be on the outside, looking in.’