False fire

by Veronica Heley

  Bea winced. What Sybil said was true.

  The harridan lit one cigarette from the other, and tossed the spent stub in the direction of the ashtray. She missed.

  Bea picked up the stub and put it in the ashtray so that it wouldn’t start a fire on the rug.

  Sybil admired the multiplicity of rings on her right hand. ‘Leon is awkward around children. He’ll never marry, never have children of his own. His last chance was when he met you, but he muffed it. You took a good look at him, and knew exactly who was going to have to play Daddy to his Mummy if you married him. So you didn’t. And now he’s realized he’s past it. He’s thinking of buying a yacht. A life without involvement. No responsibilities.’

  Bea nodded. That was true, too.

  Sybil tapped ash on to the rug. ‘Bernice knows I’m dying. I see it in her eyes. And I see her fear. It wrings my heart.’

  Bea nodded again.

  ‘The child has chosen you. She said to me that you would look after her. Love her. She doesn’t need much looking after physically. She’ll make her own way in the world. She’ll get scholarships, go up to university early. She’ll find her way into the business world on her own merits. But she needs someone to return to …’

  ‘Like a boomerang?’ Bea’s tone was dry.

  Sybil cackled. Then coughed.

  Bea stood. ‘I’ll get you some water.’

  Sybil spurned the offer. ‘Water is for tadpoles. I haven’t much time. I get tired, you know.’

  Bea sighed. There was no point avoiding the issue. ‘Are you ready to go?’

  ‘Some days, yes. Others, no. I’m not afraid, much. One has doubts, occasionally. Bound to. On the whole, no. I’m tired. I’ve had enough. But I have to see the girl settled. What Leon does with his money is his affair, but I’ve set up a trust fund for the girl which should see her through. You and my solicitor are to be her trustees. You’ll let her have the flat at the top of your house. Somewhere she can call her own. Her room at Leon’s is pretty enough, but it’s not a home. You will pray for her and scold her. You’ll tell her her skirts are too short, and that she has to be in by ten or whatever time you decide. You’ll worry about her and listen to her when she wants to talk, and you’ll remind her of her manners and teach her to cook and how to look after her clothes. If she makes mistakes, you’ll be there to scream at her, and forgive her, and help her to put them right. Understood?’

  Bea sighed. ‘You’ve got a nerve.’

  ‘Mm. Haven’t I just? I’m not offering you a fortune for looking after her. An income of sorts in case you eventually decide to retire. Running this house must cost a penny or two. Bernice will have an allowance, of course, but it won’t be lavish. She has to learn the value of money.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘You’re not interested in money, are you? Or a title? Otherwise you’d have taken Leon, or that other dog that’s been sniffing around your skirts.’

  Bea tried to be amused. ‘William is not—’

  ‘Yes, he is. But you won’t take him either because he’s not up to your weight. If you marry again you’ll want it to be a partnership of equals.’

  Ouch. Sybil had put her finger on the problem with William. Bea had admired him tremendously when he’d rescued the children from the fire, but since then she’d come to understand that he wasn’t that clever with people. He’d fumbled his attempts to get custody of Alicia, hadn’t he?

  She said, ‘Looking after Bernice means I won’t ever have the energy to think of marrying again.’

  ‘Well, Bernice might find you someone, when she’s ready to move on to the next stage of her life.’

  Sybil stubbed out her cigarette, actually making it into the ashtray, and struggled to her feet, hauling a bejewelled cell phone out of her Mulberry handbag. ‘Now where’s that driver of yours? I’m due for lunch at Fortnum’s and then a nap. The beds at Leon’s are too soft for me, but I’ll not be using them for long. Don’t look like that. I mean, I’m on my way back to the US of A this weekend. I’ll have Bernice with me for the Christmas holidays if I last that long. If not, she’ll be coming to you, with or without Alicia. Understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bea, with a thrill of horror. What on earth was she agreeing to? She must be mad.

  Sybil grinned. ‘I envy you. She’ll keep you young. Tell her I love her every now and again, will you?’

  [END]