When Night Closes in

by Iris Gower

  Lowri frowned. ‘Don’t worry, Mother, there’s more here to consider than my job. You are much more important and I want to be with you.’

  Rhian patted her hand. The door opened and a nurse bustled in. ‘I think Mrs Richards should rest now.’

  Lowri nodded and got to her feet. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow morning,’ she said and, with a last glance at her mother, left the room.

  When Lowri returned to the Grange she could see that Charles was home. His brand-new Mercedes was parked directly in front of the double doors to the hall, and Lowri scowled as she manoeuvred her way past the gleaming vehicle.

  Charles was in the library, drinking his habitual glass of whisky in front of the ornate gas fire. No doubt he had seen to it that all the chimneys were swept and all the appliances checked now that it was almost too late.

  ‘How is she?’ His question was casual, as if her mother simply had a cold.

  ‘As well as can be expected after being almost suffocated.’ Lowri threw down her jacket. ‘Want a cup of tea? I’m going to make one.’ She offered more out of politeness than because she expected Charles to accept.

  ‘Wouldn’t mind some dinner,’ he said. ‘Anything in the fridge you can throw together?’

  Lowri stared at him. ‘It is allowed for men to cook these days, Charles.’ The edge of anger she was feeling was in her voice.

  Charles put down his glass and pushed himself up from the chair. ‘Don’t bother!’ he said huffily. ‘I’ll go out and get something.’

  The front door slammed and Lowri heard the Mercedes being gunned into life. Charles treated his cars the way he treated his women: he had no respect for either. Lowri made some tea and sat in the kitchen at the scrubbed pine table that had been her grandmother’s.

  She made a phone call to Sally. She was out, so Lowri left a brief message. She really should call Lainey, but he could enquire at the office if he needed to get in touch.

  She sighed, wishing Charles a million miles away. In Canada perhaps, with her brother. Charles had never been good enough for her mother. When had Lowri begun to hate him? Was it after the hundredth time she had seen her mother crying over his affairs? Or was it when he had first slapped Lowri across the face for what he called her impudence?

  She had burst into their bedroom once when they were quarrelling and Charles had been holding her mother by her hair. He did not see her at first.

  ‘Just remember, madam,’ he was saying venomously, ‘you accuse me of having other women but at least I haven’t brought any bastards home to roost.’ He looked up then and saw Lowri’s shocked face.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, girl.’ His tone was vicious. ‘You are a bastard, do you know what that means? You are illegitimate, a nothing.’

  Lowri had run back to her own room and begun packing her clothes. Her mother had followed her and held her close and told her she loved her so much that life would be impossible without her. So Lowri had stayed. Until she went to university in Cardiff.

  She had embarked on a law degree intending to become a solicitor or even a barrister. It was Charles who put a stop to her university career. He had come up to Cardiff for a dinner to honour one of the retiring masters. Her mother was ill and had stayed at home.

  Lowri lifted her cup to her mouth, remembering the agony of the embarrassment Charles had caused her. He had made a pass at one of the lecturer’s wives and had his face soundly slapped for his pains. The evening had ended with a drunken Charles being forcibly ejected from the hall.

  The next day Lowri gave up her course and, because she had nowhere else to go, went home to Summer’s Dean. Charles, far from being contrite, ranted and raged at her for being a fool. She knew that she could not stay at home, not while he was living there, so once her mother was well, Lowri began to look for work.

  It was through a family connection that she got a job with Watson Jones and Fry, and Mr Watson had taken her under his wing. He was a kindly man with a face like a cherub, and Lowri established a rapport with him almost right away.

  She looked around her; she might as well go to bed. She would stay in Summer’s Dean only long enough to make sure her mother had fully recovered from the accident and then she would go back home.

  Home? Did she have a home? She suddenly felt rootless, the nobody that Charles constantly told her she was. Perhaps it was time she began to think like an independent woman. She had relied on Jon, believed in him, thought she would marry him. He had made a fool out of her, no doubt about that. Well, to hell with Jon, and to hell with all men. Lowri would sort out her own life, make her own way in the world.

  She got up and looked in the pine-framed mirror on the wall. ‘I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul,’ she recited and slowly a smile crept around her lips.

  ‘That’s better,’ she told her reflection. ‘Life is for living and it’s about time I realized that.’

  It was in a cheerful mood that she snuggled down into bed. She fell asleep immediately but woke abruptly, sweating, frightened. The dream had come again. The masked man had held her under the water. She had felt the coldness wrap around her, the dread fill her heart and mind.

  Lowri put her hands over her face and began to cry.

  8

  ‘So, Jon Brandon’s business is booming.’ DI Lainey leaned over the desk and studied the computer screen. ‘Lucky man. Print it out, Sergeant, I can’t “see” it properly until I have it in black and white.’

  Sergeant Brown clicked a few buttons and the printer began to hum into life before delivering several sheets of paper in rapid succession.

  Lainey waited until the last sheet spewed from the mouth of the printer and then picked them all up. They felt warm; the machine had been working overtime this morning. ‘Right, I’ll take these into my office and have a good look at them.’

  He closed his door and threw the sheaf of papers on his desk. The pristine rows of figures stood out black and bold. Lainey sat down, wishing he had thought to ask for some coffee. Figures gave him a headache; he was not the most numerate of men.

  He studied the pages before him and, even to the most untutored eye, it was clear that Jon Brandon was doing very well for himself. Why then would he disappear?

  He ran his finger along the columns and saw that the rent for the cottage in Plunch Lane was fully paid up. He checked the figures before him again: Brandon was a suspiciously wealthy man.

  It was all extremely odd. He grimaced; he never trusted ‘odd’. There had to be a logical explanation for everything. He marked the sums of money deposited in the business in the last few months. They were random and varying in size, but they all added up to quite a substantial amount.

  Brandon’s business was supposed to be importing and exporting computer software, not the most lucrative of ventures unless you struck it lucky. There was too much competition from the big boys for that. Even customized software for expanding companies abroad would not make anyone a fortune. Unless . . .

  ‘Damn and blast!’ Lainey pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Why didn’t I think of it before?’ He picked up his jacket and left the station. His brain was buzzing. The mystery was beginning to unravel – just a little.

  ‘There, Mother, we’re home.’ Lowri helped her mother from the car and led her up the steps to the Grange. ‘I wish you would have come up to stay with me, if only for a few days.’

  ‘No, darling, my place is here in my own home.’ Rhian smiled at Lowri. ‘And for all Charles pontificates and fusses, this is still my home in my name. One day it will be yours, Lowri.’

  Lowri did not want the house; she would never live in it. The Grange held too many bad memories for her.

  ‘Thank goodness Charles is in Canada on business. Perhaps he’ll even have time to visit Justin.’ Rhian Richards’s voice was still hoarse. ‘Now we’re on our own we can have a good old natter.’

  Lowri settled her mother in the sitting-room and put one
of the throws from the sofa over her legs. Charles had always favoured his son. ‘Justin is Charles’s two eyes,’ she said dryly. ‘He always did give him anything he wanted.’

  ‘It’s getting cold,’ Rhian changed the subject, ‘but I think the fires are safe enough now.’

  ‘Yes, Charles made sure that he wouldn’t be poisoned,’ Lowri said. ‘I just don’t trust him. Tell you what, I’ll cook us something quick, shall I? A few eggs, scrambled or poached perhaps?’

  ‘Lovely.’ Rhian looked tired. She was almost fifty but usually looked much younger. But now she had circles under her eyes and her hair was showing some of the grey that she normally took great care to conceal.

  Lowri busied herself in the kitchen and soon had a pot of tea, some toast and a dish of scrambled eggs ready on a tray. She padded across the hall to the sitting-room and heard her mother’s voice. Rhian was speaking to someone on the phone.

  As Lowri pushed open the door with her foot, she caught sight of her mother’s face. Rhian looked like a young girl in love. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining. ‘Must go,’ she said hastily and replaced the receiver.

  ‘Who was that, you dark horse?’ Lowri said teasingly. Her mother smiled.

  ‘Just a friend.’

  ‘All right, if you don’t want to tell I won’t make you. Now come on, eat some of this, put some flesh back on your bones.’

  It was cosy sitting together with the silence of the old house around them. The place had always been peaceful when Charles was not there.

  ‘How are you getting on at work?’ Rhian asked, biting into a slice of toast. ‘I mean, is it enough for you being a clerk in a solicitor’s office when once you hoped to qualify yourself?’

  ‘Mr Watson is very good to me – look how well he’s taken my unexpected absence. He hasn’t got Sally to ring up and demand I get back to work. He’s the kindest boss I’m ever likely to find.’

  ‘So you’re happy there?’ Rhian asked.

  ‘Yes, I am happy there but I don’t know if it’s for ever, Mum,’ Lowri said. ‘I sometimes think I would like to go back to college but then, college costs money these days, a lot of money.’

  ‘Well I have plenty, Lowri, and what good is it doing in the bank?’

  Lowri shook her head. ‘No, I want to make my own way, just like everyone else.’

  ‘I don’t know, young people today, you are so independent. In my day it was accepted that parents helped their children through college.’

  ‘Well, things are different now, Mother, people of my age group don’t expect hand-outs, we have to make our own way in the world.’

  ‘Ah well, I suppose that’s progress of sorts.’ Rhian ate a small piece of toast. ‘By the way, Lowri, have you heard any more about that boyfriend of yours?’

  Lowri shook her head. ‘No, Mum, I haven’t. I don’t really want to talk about it either.’

  Rhian held up her hand. ‘All right, that’s fine by me. I don’t want to pry. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?’ She smiled. ‘Before you go back I am going to insist you take a cheque I’ve written out for you; get yourself some new clothes or something.’

  ‘OK, if it will make you feel better.’ Lowri laughed. ‘You see, I do what I’m told, sometimes.’

  Rhian grimaced. ‘Aye, you’re a good girl, I’m lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.’

  ‘And I have an equally wonderful mother, so let’s cut the mutual admiration crap and talk about just what sort of clothes I’m going to buy with your money.’

  It was several days later when Charles returned home. The peace of the house was shattered as soon as he came in the front door. The way he spoke to her mother set Lowri’s teeth on edge and she knew it was high time she went home.

  The drive was pleasant enough; she had the motorway virtually to herself. The time passed quite happily with Lowri listening to music and thinking about Lainey.

  For once, she was able to park the Mazda outside the door of her house. She felt hot and sticky; she was really looking forward to a cool shower. As she closed the door on the outside world, Lowri rested her head against the wooden panel and sighed with relief.

  She kicked off her shoes on the way to the kitchen and filled the kettle. She could murder a cup of coffee. She made herself some, and a sandwich, and sat down in the kitchen, glad to be home.

  She must have dozed because the sound of a bell ringing jangled into her sleep and she sat up, aware that her coffee was cold and her sandwich untouched.

  ‘Come in, Jim.’ She stood aside for him to enter. He looked at her neat skirt and tanned legs and then at her tousled hair, but he said nothing.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ she asked, needing to break the silence. He perched on the edge of the table.

  ‘Answer some questions. Firstly why did you run off without telling me?’

  ‘I did tell you. Well, in a way. I phoned Sally at the office and told her to make my excuses to you all.’ She shook her head. ‘My mother was in hospital, she needed me down at Summer’s Dean, what was I supposed to do?’

  ‘Your message never got through to me. Mother all right now?’

  ‘Yes, she’s fine. She should just look after herself, that’s all.’

  ‘You look tired, feel up to answering some questions?’

  ‘I’ll do my best though I seem incapable of rational thought these days,’ she said. ‘The more I search my mind the worse everything becomes. But go on, shoot. I’ll do my best.’

  ‘What did you know about Jon Brandon’s business?’ He was wearing a light jacket and his white collar was pristine. He looked very handsome and very remote.

  ‘Not much,’ she said. ‘He sold parts for computers, something like that.’

  Lainey moved from the table to stand in the window, the set of his shoulders revealing that he was not as relaxed as he pretended to be.

  ‘Why, Jim? Is it important?’

  He turned to look at her. ‘Would you say that he was spending a lot of money on you?’

  She blinked rapidly. ‘Jon was always generous, I’ll give him that. Just before . . . well, before he vanished he bought me a beautiful diamond ring as well as offering to treat me to a weekend at the Swan. I thought that meant we were engaged. What a fool!’

  She wondered if it was worth mentioning her suspicions that Jon had been to the hotel with Sally but dismissed the idea, it all sounded most unconvincing.

  ‘What is it?’

  She shrugged; he was more perceptive than she had given him credit for. ‘When I went back there, to the hotel, the receptionist recognized the scarf I had on.’

  He frowned. ‘So?’

  ‘So, it wasn’t my scarf, I’ve never worn it before.’

  ‘Whose is it?’

  ‘It belongs to Sally from the office.’ Lowri shook her head. ‘Look, I may be barking up entirely the wrong tree but Sally had been there, the description of her long blonde hair and the bright nail polish she wears was spot on.’

  ‘And her companion looked like Jon Brandon.’ It was not a question.

  ‘How did you know?’

  He smiled. ‘You wouldn’t be so worried if she had been there with her boyfriend, Timmy whatsit.’ He stood and moved away, leaning against the wall, looking at her.

  ‘That makes sense,’ Lowri said.

  ‘It’s elementary, my dear Watson.’ Lainey’s smile widened. ‘Watson, that’s the name of your employer, isn’t it?’

  ‘You know it is. Why?’

  ‘Nothing. Just checking.’

  ‘Can I make you a cup of coffee?’ she asked.

  ‘No thanks. Just one more question. Are you sure Jon Brandon never left anything in your keeping? CDs, perhaps?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, nothing.’

  He nodded. ‘Right then. I’ll be in touch.’

  She watched as he walked away down the street in the sunlight. She wanted to call after him, to ask him to come back; she needed to talk to him. He turned th
e corner and was out of sight.

  It was early next morning when the phone rang, startling Lowri from her sleep. She reached over and picked up the receiver and heard Sally’s pleading voice.

  ‘Lowri, are you coming into work today? I really need you.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be there Sally, but it’s barely seven thirty!’

  ‘I know but you have to come in as soon as possible.’

  ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when you get here. Just come, that’s all.’

  ‘All right, I’ll come at once if it’s that desperate.’

  Lowri did not bother with breakfast. She swallowed a cup of coffee, showered and then pulled on a dark green blouse, her grey skirt and matching jacket.

  Sally was in reception talking on the telephone when Lowri walked in. She quickly replaced the receiver and rose from her chair.

  ‘I’m trying to do two jobs at once here!’ she said. ‘When are we going to get the new receptionist old Watson promised us?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. Now, what’s going on?’

  ‘Give me a chance to catch my breath and I’ll tell you!’ Sally’s face was shiny, she appeared harassed. This time it was Lowri who suggested making coffee. Sally nodded eagerly and followed Lowri into the back office, watching as Lowri spooned sugar into the two mugs.

  ‘Tell me,’ Lowri said. ‘What on earth is the panic?’

  The door rattled and swung open, letting in a gust of wind that had a definite touch of autumn chill about it. ‘I’ll go,’ Lowri said but Sally followed her into reception. Sarah Brandon was standing there.

  ‘Mrs Brandon, we’ve been trying to get in touch with you,’ Lowri said.

  ‘That’s the panic.’ Sally mouthed the words.

  ‘And I have been trying to contact you!’ Sarah Brandon’s eyes were cold. ‘I understand you viewed a corpse that was thought to be that of my dead husband. How dare you!’

  Lowri felt as if she had been punched. ‘The police wanted to find you.’ She heard the defensive note in her voice. ‘But they couldn’t so I had to go to the mortuary instead of you.’

  ‘That’s right, Mrs Brandon, I can vouch for that,’ Sally said.