by Hazel Holt
She certainly did look excited, but somehow it didn’t seem to me like Thelma’s usual animated account of her cleverness and success.
‘How about Gordon? Is he going with you?’
‘Goodness, no. Someone’s got to stay behind and look after all the irons we’ve got in the fire over here. Anyway, he’s no good with the Americans, not together enough!’
I was surprised. Usually everyone connected with Thelma was never less than perfect in every way, and she had been telling me for years just how clever Gordon was.
She leaned towards me again and spoke in the same confidential tone. ‘Actually, Simon thinks that he might be able to do something about the Trust.’
‘I thought a Trust was inviolate,’ I said, remembering some of Peter’s cases.
‘Not if you’re really clever. Of course we’ll have to wait until Aunt Maud is dead, but that should be any day now, wouldn’t you think? I must ring Marion and see how things are going. I’d like to get things moving before we go to New York.’
I was so disgusted at her hard and calculating attitude that I remained silent.
Thelma, of course, didn’t notice my reaction and went on, ‘If Mummy hasn’t turned up – and I very much doubt now that she will turn up, don’t you? – after a certain period then I gather that she can be assumed to be dead. I’m sure Simon can find a way of speeding things up. I expect it will cost a bit, but it will be worth it in the end. Actually, I thought that when we’ve wrapped things up in New York we might go to South Africa and see for ourselves what the situation is at the store in Pietermaritzburg. Mummy and Aunt Maud have had reports and things, but old Robertson and Aunt Maud’s man in Inverness aren’t exactly live wires! Simon always favours the hands-on approach to any problem...’
She took a lipstick and compact out of her bag, briskly outlined her mouth in dark red, swept a brushful of coral powder over her cheekbones and took an American Express Gold Card from her wallet.
‘Well. Do let me know if you have any news; I rely on you to keep me posted about the Taviscombe end. They’ll let you have my New York number if you ring the office.’
The waitress, a friendly girl in a long ochre skirt and a Cobblers T-shirt, brought the bill and Thelma stretched out her hand for it.
‘No really,’ I said. ‘Let me at least pay my half.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Thelma gave me one of her saccharine smiles. ‘It was so sweet of you to come all this way to have lunch with me. Anyway, I can charge it to expenses.’
I rose to my feet and began to gather up all my parcels.
‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘Whatever did you find to buy in Taunton?’
As we passed the table where the priests had sat, the girl in the ochre skirt was gathering up all the wine bottles. I reflected that they’d certainly had a much jollier lunch than I had.
Chapter Nine
When I got back from Taunton the phone was ringing just as I got to the door. I dumped all my parcels in a heap and fished frantically for my key, wrenched the door open and picked up the phone quite out of breath and rather annoyed, as one (unreasonably) is with the caller.
My annoyance evaporated when I heard Rosemary’s excited voice.
‘Jilly’s had her baby. It’s a girl. Seven and a half pounds. They’re going to call her Cordelia Rosemary! Isn’t it marvellous! ’
‘Oh, Rosemary, I’m so glad. Cordelia’s a charming name and you must be thrilled about the Rosemary bit.’
‘Yes, wasn’t it sweet of them! Cordelia’s a bit of a mouthful, but I expect she’ll end up as Delia.’
‘How’s Jilly?’
‘Fine. It wasn’t too bad, apparently. Roger rang me when it started. Luckily Mummy’s still in West Lodge so I just got into the car and rushed straight off to Taunton. They’ve asked me to stay with them for a few days, just until Jilly’s got herself sorted out. They send them home from hospital almost immediately nowadays, so the poor lamb’s pretty nervous about coping on her own at first.’
‘I’m not surprised! In our day they kept us in for ages – at least until we felt reasonably competent.’
‘Jack’s holding the fort at home, looking after the animals and so on, and Elsie will call in every day at West Lodge to see what Mummy wants fetching and carrying. But, I wonder, would you mind being an angel and popping in from time to time, just to see how she is? It’s no good asking Jack; he always irritates her. Actually she’ll be more disagreeable to him than ever, poor love, because he’s got to tell her about the baby and – more important – that I won’t be around for a week. I didn’t have the nerve to do it myself. She’s not going to be pleased.’
‘Yes, of course I will. I’d have thought she’d be thrilled to have a great-granddaughter. Something to boast about to all her chums.’
‘Oh yes, that’s okay, but she’ll be furious that I won’t be there to hear her tell me how much better children were brought up in her day, and various related topics!’
‘I’ll call in tomorrow and she can tell me, instead. Actually, I want to drop in there and see Mrs Jankiewicz. She hasn’t been herself since poor Mrs Rossiter disappeared.’
‘Poor soul, I expect she misses her. No news, I suppose?’
‘No. I saw Thelma yesterday, actually.’
I didn’t feel that this was the moment to tell Rosemary of Thelma’s extraordinary theory about Alan.
‘How was Horrible Thelma? As elegant as ever?’
‘More so, if anything. A gorgeous purple suit with practically a mini skirt. Far too young for her, though she can carry it off, of course, because she’s small and has that marvellous figure. She looked very Sigourney Weaver, very Wall Street. She’s just off to New York with her glamorous young lawyer. Goodness! I’ve just realised.’
‘What?’
‘It’s only just dawned on me. I do believe our Thelma is having a bit of a fling!’
‘No!’
‘It’s this young lawyer, she just couldn’t stop talking about him, and it was how she said his name. You know.’
‘Well! Fancy! Thelma, of all people.’
‘Come to think of it, she sounded positively coy.’
‘Did you say young?’
‘She was a bit defensive about that. She said he was in his late thirties, which probably means he’s about thirty-five.’
‘And they’re going to America together? What about Gordon?’
‘Oh, he’s staying behind to run things here. Definitely not wanted over there.’
‘How fascinating! So you think she’s really smitten?’
‘The more I think about it, the more sure I become. I do believe it’s love at last!’
‘Gordon?’
‘Oh, Gordon was a business arrangement, on Thelma’s part at least. He owned the agency in the first place, I think, and anyway, he’s quite a bit older than she is. No, I’m sure this is the real thing for our Thelma.’
‘Well, do try and find out some more. Oh! That’s Roger back from the hospital. I must dash and get him some tea. Thanks for coping with Mummy.’
‘Give my love and congratulations to Jilly and Roger and find out what they’d like for little Cordelia. I never know what babies need these days.’
‘I should think a large supply of disposable nappies! Bless you, I’ll ring you soon.’
I put the telephone down, retrieved Foss, who’d darted out when l opened the door, released the dogs from the kitchen and let them welcome me. Then I gathered up my parcels and went upstairs.
As I tried on my various purchases and decided that I had been over-optimistic about several of them, which would have to go back to Marks and Spencer, I thought of Thelma in her purple suit – a new, youthful looking Thelma. Now I had decided that she was in love, various things fell into place. There was, as I’d told Rosemary, the tone of her voice as she spoke Simon’s name, and the sort of happy glow she had when she talked about him. I’d never seen her like that before. And she had seemed less
sure of herself, more human than I’d ever known her. And then there was the strange way she had accused Alan of their mother’s murder and then almost dismissed it, as if she had something even bigger on her mind. Simon. Or rather, the irresistible combination of Simon and the possibility that he might be able, somehow, to break the Trust. Nothing else would have diverted her mind from that monstrous accusation.
The telephone rang just as I was wriggling out of a skirt that declared itself to be a size 16 but certainly wasn’t. It was my friend Anthea to ask how many scones I would be contributing for the cream tea at the Red Cross Fête the next day. Since I’d forgotten all about it, I recklessly promised a couple of dozen and hurried down to the kitchen to make them.
As I too hastily sifted the flour (so that quite a bit went over the work-top and not into the basin) I began to think more clearly about what had seemed at first the preposterous suggestion that Alan might have killed Mrs Rossiter. It was just possible. He certainly was a strange person, and if Thelma was right that he was so obsessed by this American, then he probably would have asked his mother for money for the expedition. But could he really – even with his terrible temper out of control – could he really have killed her? I stopped kneading the scone dough and stood with my floury hands suspended above the basin, considering this appalling thought. If he had hit out, with some sudden gesture, an involuntary expression of rage ... Well, she was an old woman and quite frail; it wouldn’t take a lot to kill her. Afterwards he would be horrified and frightened at what he had done, would have hidden the body somewhere.
Had it been Alan whom Mrs Rossiter met in Taunton that day? He might well have told her to keep their meeting secret, because he wouldn’t want Thelma to hear about his asking for money. He knew his sister well enough to know that she would be only too eager to thwart him. A man and a woman, Ed Cooper thought he had seen in the car park. Was the American woman with him? Had she been implicated? Thelma hadn’t told me her name, but she must know it. Could I find out where she was now and if Alan was with her?
I put one tray of scones into the oven and rolled out the second lump of dough. It’s possible that Mrs Rossiter might – left to herself – have given Alan the money, except that she would have been too frightened of Thelma’s furious reaction. Alan would have known this and, just as Thelma’s taunts when he was a child had tipped him over the edge into mindless fury, so this knowledge might have had the effect of turning his rage on to his mother.
I dipped the pastry brush into the beaten egg and painted the tops of the scones carefully. It all made a sort of horrible sense if one allowed oneself to think about it in the abstract, as it were, not relating it to real people that one actually knew.
Tris and Tessa came into the kitchen and sat at my feet, fixing me with that concentrated gaze that usually compels me to gather up their leads and take them for a walk. I broke in half one of the scones that had risen lopsidedly in the baking and gave it to them. Tess ate hers in one gulp, as she always did, but Tris was not to be diverted and continued to exercise his will upon me, so that I took off my apron and went to fetch the dog-leads.
The Red Cross Fête was being held in the garden of a rather grand house on West Hill and as I hurried along the drive with my boxes of scones I was pleased to see that old Mr Sewell was now apparently quite recovered from his stroke and taking the money at the gate.
‘You see,’ he said, ‘I told you I’d be back in harness before you knew it!’
‘It’s marvellous to see you,’ I replied. ‘How’s Bijou?’
‘Oh, she’s very fit – just like her master.’
‘Are there many people here yet?’
‘Quite a few. The weather’s not very good, I’m afraid, but’ – he lowered his voice slightly – ‘everyone’s curious to see Mrs Braithwaite’s garden. She’s always going on about it!’
I reflected that Mrs Braithwaite’s garden would have to be absolutely perfect, for no weed, no untidy compost heap, no clutter of old flower-pots, however carefully hidden behind the potting shed, would escape the beady gaze of a dedicated fête-goer.
‘I’d better get on with these, then,’ I said. ‘They’ll be wanting them for the teas.’
I found Anthea and several other lady helpers methodically splitting scones, filling pots with cream and jam and conscientiously counting strawberries into small dishes.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ I said.
‘Better late than never, I always say.’ Mrs Burden, a plump, jolly woman wearing an apron that bore the legend ‘Somerset – the Team to Watch, took my scones away and added them to others laid out on the trestle tables, where I hoped they’d be decently anonymous, since I feared they might be rather heavy. I was conscious that my mind had been on other things while I was making them.
I dutifully did the round of the various stalls, acquiring a pot of greengage jam, a couple of old Penguin thrillers and two pairs of knitted pink bootees for Jilly’s baby. I guessed the weight of a cake (hopefully wrong, since it looked highly indigestible), won a bottle of Worcester sauce and not the Drambuie on the bottle stall and bought four raffle tickets for a prize the nature of which was not disclosed. Then, duty done, I made my escape.
It really wasn’t a very nice day. There was a strong wind blowing off the sea and most of the holiday-makers were wearing anoraks with the hoods up as they wandered dispiritedly along the promenade. Some brave souls were eating ice-cream cones, but others were sensibly making for the Old Ship tea-rooms in search of a nice hot cup of tea.
Going into West Lodge out of the sharp wind I was quite glad of the wave of heat that met me, but after a few moments, as I climbed up the stairs to Mrs Dudley’s room, I began to find the constant heat oppressive.
She was sitting in a chair by the window. Just for a moment, when she turned towards me and before she recognised me, she seemed suddenly shrunk and frail. I felt a pang of something like pity, an emotion she had never inspired in me before. Then she greeted me in her old familiar manner and was herself again and the moment passed.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘isn’t it splendid news! A beautiful little girl!’
‘I always think it’s better if the first child is a boy.’ she said. ‘Though I suppose,’ she added grudgingly, ‘if there is no title or estate then it doesn’t matter so much.’
‘I’m sure you must be thrilled to have a great-granddaughter,’ I said, trying to make it sound as if the achievement had been all hers.
‘I can’t say I greatly care for the name they have chosen. There have been no Cordelias in our family.’
‘Oh, I think it’s rather a pretty name,’ I said, ‘and it’s out of Shakespeare,’ I added placatingly.
‘Indeed – and look what happened to her! I have always thought King Lear a quite shocking play, a terrible example of what happens to young people who do not pay proper respect to their parents!’
I mentally saved up this splendid piece of Shakespearean criticism for Rosemary and changed the subject.
‘It will be nice for Jilly to have Rosemary with her for a few days. It’s always difficult having to cope with a new baby at home, especially a first baby.’
‘Rosemary does far too much for Jilly, I’ve always said so. She’ll wear herself out.’
I suppressed a smile and said, ‘Oh, I think she’s enjoying it...’
‘That’s not the point. Jilly shouldn’t think that her mother can just abandon her other responsibilities at a moment’s notice. I wanted Rosemary to help Elsie give my bedroom a thorough spring-cleaning before I go home, and then there are the dining-room curtains, they need to go to the cleaners. And there are a hundred and one other things that really can’t wait. Young people are so thoughtless and selfish these days.’
To divert her mind to other things I said, ‘Well, you do seem to be nice and comfortable here.’
Mrs Dudley looked around her in a disparaging way. ‘I really don’t know if I can bear another fortnight in this poky little room.
I must have a word with Mrs Wilmot. It is ridiculous that Mrs Rossiter’s room is standing empty like that. It would suit me very well and it seems unlikely that she will ever use it again.’
‘But we don’t know …’
‘I expect it was a road accident. People drive like lunatics these days.’
‘But the accident would have been reported …’
‘Hospitals are totally inefficient. When I think how well the Taviscombe Hospital was run when I was with the Red Cross during the war! Matron used to say to me, “Mrs Dudley, if only my nurses were as efficient and well-trained as you are.” Well, of course, we all knew that we had to do our bit to help the war effort. That was the Dunkirk spirit. Things will never be the same again.’
I made the sort of acquiescent noises that were all Mrs Dudley required from her listeners and she went on, ‘Poor Mrs Rossiter, now, she was quite hopeless – couldn’t even roll a bandage! We used to have working parties at the Manor. Your mother used to come, though, of course, that was in the old days before she became such an invalid. Mrs Rossiter was useless at organising things, so I simply had to take over. Colonel Rossiter ran the Home Guard – he was just too old for military service. He missed both wars, rather strange if you think of it. A disagreeable man, very disobliging and a very nasty temper. Rather like that boy of his.’
‘Alan?’
‘Yes. You must remember that dreadful incident when he had to leave his school.’
‘No, I don’t think I ever heard …’
‘They hushed it up, of course. People in Taviscombe were never told the truth. Everyone thought he just left. Well, he was eighteen and wasn’t going to university. But my cousin’s boy was at the same school and she told me. He was asked to leave. I’m surprised you didn’t know. After all, your mother was supposed to be such a close friend.’