The Decoy

by Florrie Palmer

  “I still think there was foul play there,” said Annie, “and I have my suspicions about who the perpetrator might be.”

  “Ooh, do tell, Annie.”

  “I have no proof, just suspicion at the moment, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to say anything. But one thing I will say. Where a pretty young woman is involved, sex is often a motive.”

  29 July

  That last Sunday in July was family only at Manor Farm for lunch. This included Annie. They ate cold chicken mayonnaise and salad followed by strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and cream in the kitchen as it was now too hot to eat outside. Everyone was beginning to suffer from the oppressive heat, Annie especially, but she made no mention of it. Most of the family had taken to sleeping downstairs on sofas due to the slightly cooler atmosphere.

  Once the adults had finished discussing the week’s politics, always a subject to interest Annie, the conversation came around to the horrible end of Stella’s little dog. They were not alone in their interest in this most bizarre event as most of Heronsford was talking about it. Annie said, “I saw Bob with the little dog at the fête.”

  “You what?”

  “I saw him carrying the dog under his arm. At the fête. He was walking across the garden.”

  “You don’t think? Surely not?”

  “Darling, I only know what I saw.” She paused. “What makes it worse is that poor girl’s desire for a child.”

  Not wanting to dwell on such matters in front of Holly, Eliza changed the subject. “Anyway, it looks like good news is on the horizon for us. John Spencer have said that they are considering making an order for autumn, although not yet how many. So, fingers crossed, we could be back in business again.”

  Annie almost sang the words, “That is just wonderful. Oh, I’m so pleased.” She went quite pink. “In fact, this has made my day. Worthy of a toast I think.” Steadying herself on the table edge, she got slowly to her feet, the pain showing on her face. She raised her wine glass and in mock formality, looked at the family and said, “Will you all please charge your glasses…”

  Giggling, Holly poured a bit more Coca Cola into her glass, allowed on Sundays during the holidays. Juliet, who was permitted wine on Sundays, offered some to Eliza and Jay and then topped up her glass too. Once that was done, Annie continued, “I want you to know that I love you all very much indeed and that I shall never stop doing so. Times have not been easy, but you have steered the ship along the right course and made it through. So ladies and gentleman, I ask you to raise your glasses to Eliza Berkeley Designs,” she paused and added quietly, “and all who sail in her.”

  “To Eliza Berkeley Designs and all who sail in her!”

  Eliza got up to go around the table and hug her mother. “You’re the figurehead on this ship, Mum, and don’t you forget it. We would never have left port without you.”

  Jay jumped up from his chair. He pointed a trembling finger at his mother-in-law and shouted, “The order is not confirmed. They are only considering it. What do you think you are saying, figurehead Annie?”

  Taken aback, Annie sat down quickly. “I’m so sorry, Jay. I just assumed…”

  “Well, don’t! Don’t assume, thank you very much. Keep your toasts to yourself,” the man was shrieking.

  “Jay!” Red in the face, Eliza comforted her mother who looked aghast.

  “I think I’d better leave. Thank you for a lovely lunch. Again, I’m so sorry, Jay. I really didn’t mean to upset you.” Annie rose quietly to her feet and left the stunned family to cope with the aftermath of Jay’s eruption.

  When she got back to the barn the realisation dawned on her that her son-in-law harboured a grudge towards her. Unfair though it certainly was to make her the scapegoat for his own failings, she knew that since he had come under so much stress, it was obvious from his outburst that he resented her. For her presence or for the gift of the farm, she was not sure. But felt it, she did.

  13

  4 August

  “And Francesca and Stella will be there,” Katie added. Eliza was relieved when Katie phoned that evening to invite her and the children to a barbecue on Saturday. She’d had Sinead staying for the past three nights and the adult Armstrongs found communicating with her a big struggle.

  They were proud of Holly who dealt with the devastated child far more naturally than they did, and in consequence, Sinead was more at ease with her. Eliza had tried comforting her but the only woman aside from her grandmother the girl would allow to get close was Francesca. The child had turned inward and changed from being an outgoing kid to sulky and resentful. Her sorrow infiltrated those who tried to help.

  The tragedy of Louise, business problems, Jay’s anxiety, the hot, humid days and the summer holiday were beginning to take a toll on Eliza’s patience, and she looked forward to some adult company. Bob, Jay and Hamish had planned a day’s fly fishing for trout at Rutland Water on Saturday, meaning it would be entirely feminine company for a change. She looked forward to it.

  Holly, Sinead, the two Nicholson children and the four women all crowded round the Nicholsons’ slatted garden table that was intended to seat six at the most.

  An ancient faded green parasol was slotted through a hole in its middle and open above it. It leant at a drunken angle to the table. No-one had any elbowroom, but they didn’t mind and even Stella, used to the total opposite in her enormous house, seemed to enjoy the feel of friends crammed together. The others didn’t know it but she was reminded of her large, happy Swedish family who’d had little money but big appetites.

  Katie had made a variety of salads and served them with marinated chicken and sausages cooked on the barbecue. They ate off white Eliza Berkeley plates with comical red and yellow chickens cavorting round the rim. Happy music came through the open kitchen doors from a speaker. Katie loved dancing and her thing was eighties disco music. They all sang along.

  Francesca was excited to have landed a role in a West End London play that was to start rehearsals the following month. Everyone congratulated her and toasted her success.

  Sinead seemed more relaxed than she had been since her mother’s death.

  Johnny was fourteen, spotty, difficult and completely self-absorbed in his adolescence. Going the same way, Melissa, was twelve. They had both become more egocentric since going to Broxton College and Katie felt a tinge of sadness for the lost days of unsophistication. Now, they were iPad addicts. They knew they knew best and in spite of all the early lessons in manners, sometimes answered back. The worst thing was that Johnny in particular had become bored with country living. But today, even Johnny forgot to be bolshie and joined in some of the conversations. But he reverted when he laughed and pointed out something moving in front of Francesca’s plate. Across the table, Stella tipped her chair back and almost screamed, “Spider…!”

  Then they all saw it. It was huge. It was hairy and black, more tarantula than spider. When Francesca realised, she cried out in shock as she jumped up from the table. As she did the creature moved slowly to the edge of the table and dropped onto the ground. Everyone jumped to their feet to look for it. In the commotion this had caused, a wine glass had been knocked over and broken so there was glass everywhere.

  Katie had been scared too but now she shrieked, “It’s okay! It’s okay, Francesca, it’s a toy. It’s not a real tarantula. Remote control.” She was so furious she could barely get her words out. She stood up and shouted at Johnny. “You silly little idiot! That was really frightening. I have had enough of your appalling behaviour. Enough! You understand? Say you’re sorry at once. Say you’re really sorry and apologise at once. And don’t ever do anything like that again.”

  Johnny had never heard his mother so cross. He realised that his so-called joke had gone way beyond such a thing and had caused genuine upset round the table. He looked ashamed. Francesca’s dramatic cry and his mother’s rage so alarmed him that he apologised profusely to Francesca and asked if there was anything he could do to help.


  Her adrenalin firing, her staginess at the fore, Francesca replied, “I tell you what, darling boy, in future just make it your business to develop a bit more feeling toward others. It will stand you in very good stead.”

  “I’m really sorry, Francesca, I only meant it as a joke.” The child was crimson and hung his head.

  Katie went into the kitchen to find a dustpan and brush while Eliza and Stella stayed with the unnerved Francesca: spiders were one of her chief fears. But another glass of wine soon helped restore her equilibrium and she was by now well on the way to being sloshed.

  Defusing the situation, Katie called Johnny to help her bring out the dessert and everyone forgot the incident. Music blasting from behind her, Katie came out of the kitchen carrying a tray and dancing and singing raucously along to the track.

  All the women joined in and got up to clap and dance while Katie put the desserts on the rickety table.

  But they soon sat down again to wolf Katie’s delicious Eton mess, ginger snaps and wonderful home-made lemon ice cream.

  After lunch, the children wandered off into the house and left the women to their coffee and more rosé that Francesca and Katie quaffed as though it was juice.

  Francesca remarked on the difference in Sinead and the others were in agreement.

  “I think she may be beginning to get used to it,” said Eliza, “although it’s easier for her in the holidays with everyone helping out. It’ll be very tough on the poor child when she starts at St Paul’s next term.”

  “It’s good she has Holly with her,” said Stella who had been more comfortable during lunch than any of them had seen her before. She joined in more than usual and appeared to be enjoying herself. The other females’ antennae tingled with the knowledge that her husband wasn’t around.

  “Poor Patrick is struggling,” said Eliza.

  “At least he’ll never find out about her affair now–” Stopping short, Francesca remembered Louise had confided in her, not about who he was, but about the fact that she was seeing someone. She had forgotten Sinead was around and her cheeks flushed.

  The three other women sat forward. Katie whispered, “An affair?”

  “Heavens!” Eliza looked around to make sure Sinead was out of earshot. “Who with?”

  “The naughty girl!” Stella said softly.

  “Oh, my big mouth. I’m such a blabber-fool.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Eliza. “It’s usually me. Anyway, sweetheart, it can’t do any harm to anyone now. Unless Sinead or Patrick were to find out.”

  “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Louise told me in confidence. It hadn’t been going on long and I really don’t know whom it was with. She wouldn’t say.”

  Stella suddenly chipped in, “Then why the hell did she kill herself?”

  The women stopped speaking and looked at one another.

  Then Katie said, “But the police investigated and found nothing to suggest any foul play.”

  “True,” said Eliza. “Surely they’d have found something – DNA or something. Your imagination running away with you there, Stella?” Realising too late that she had sounded patronising, she smiled at the younger woman to reassure her she had not intended to.

  The subject hung heavy over the garden table and, overwhelmed by the heat, food, wine, lack of energy but most of all the reminder of Louise’s death, the women found it difficult to find the wherewithal to get to their feet and clear away the table. But they managed and the doing of it lifted the atmosphere again.

  “By the way, you’re all invited – plus hubbies – to Smith’s on Friday evening. It’s my birthday!” said Francesca.

  “I’m nineteen and I know you are younger than me, so I guess you are eighteen, yes?” Stella surprised everyone: she was seldom noted for her humour.

  “Nail on the spot, my darling!”

  “Why not let us take you out instead?” said Eliza.

  “No, no, no – you’re all coming to me and that’s that,” she lurched as she stood up. “Must go to the loo. Don’t suppose the lawn needs watering?” Clutching her crotch like a small child, she had them all giggling as she teetered towards the house.

  “Sorry, Francesca. Hamish is back tomorrow. He’ll do it.”

  “I bet he will! I’d love to see his hose – let me know when he gets it out and I’ll be here in a jiffy.”

  Eliza said nothing.

  Happier than any of them had ever seen her before, Stella hooted with laughter. She appeared genuinely to have enjoyed herself and kissed them all goodbye with more warmth than they had experienced from her before. She helped them clear the table and carry the plates and glasses through to the kitchen before she departed, waving to them all.

  Katie felt pleased with herself for inviting her as she saw how much it had meant to her. She said as much to Eliza and Francesca, who agreed they had never seen the woman so relaxed before.

  “Got away from Bob. That’s why.” Francesca could be relied on to voice the unspoken thoughts of others.

  Eliza grimaced and nodded, “She is, after all, about half his age… And a Swede living in a huge country house, miles from anywhere – wouldn’t be exactly surprising, would it?” she said.

  “Suppose it wouldn’t, and the poor lamb has just lost her ‘baby’ in the most horrible of circumstances. Now she has even more reason to be unhappy.”

  “That was such an awful, dreadful thing. Has she got any nearer finding out who did it?”

  “No, I don’t think she has.”

  “We must try to involve her with us more. She’s really rather sweet.”

  Eliza insisted on driving Francesca home. “You’re far too smashed to negotiate the lanes,” she said. “I’ll come and get you tomorrow so you can pick up your car.”

  “Good,” said Francesca. She hiccupped. “I’ll give you lunch and you can help me rehearse my lines for the new play.” The children snickered in the back of the car.

  Eliza and the children watched Francesca in her red stilettos waver down the tiny path to her cottage, brandishing her keys in the air before failing a few times to aim the door key into its keyhole. They remained watching and giggling until she finally managed, and half fell through the door into her cottage.

  “She’s had too much to drink, hasn’t she?” said Holly. Sinead glowered.

  “I think she’s just had a bit too much sun,” said Eliza.

  “Come on, Mum. She’s drunk, isn’t she?” Both girls snorted.

  “Well, she’s tired and…” Eliza delayed her response with a pause. “Perhaps she may have had a glass too many.”

  They drove back to Manor Farm and within half an hour Patrick arrived to collect Sinead and take her back to Cambridge.

  Intended for a late sandwich never eaten, the bacon curled, crisped, blackened and broke into slivers of charcoal while the fat boiled, spat and splattered over the pan’s edge.

  Annie had been invited by Pam to supper. They picked at their ham, potato salad and green salad, agreeing their appetites had diminished in the hot weather. Pam noted her friend’s face had caught the sun. A bossy woman, she told Annie to make sure to keep it out of the sun.

  Annie already did this and wore hats whenever she went outside in the sunshine, but she didn’t bother to say. She had known Pam a long time. A person who knew best, she could not be told and that was that. She had qualities that, as far as Annie was concerned, made up for times when she was overbearing, and even these were generally well intended. Speaking her mind as usual, Pam just about ordered Annie to see Edward Gordon. Assuring her she was taking anti-inflammatory pills as well as the occasional painkiller, Annie added, “Although I don’t like taking pills if I don’t absolutely have to.”

  “That’s plain daft, Annie. If you’re hurting, take the pills. That’s what they’re for.”

  They played chess later than they usually allowed themselves and it was after 11pm by the time Annie drove herself home through the village. When she looked in the mirror late
r, she saw what Pam meant. Her face did seem to be more golden than its usual English-rose look and she supposed she must have caught more sun than she had intended. She made a note to herself to be more careful.

  Hamish returned very late, stocked with trout and happy from a good day out followed by a fine meal that generous Bob had insisted on paying for.

  Katie was in a deep, snoring sleep long before Hamish got home. She didn’t stir when he tiptoed into the bedroom. But in spite of the big man’s attempt to be as quiet as possible, she woke up when the bed sagged under his weight.

  He had turned onto his side and gone straight to sleep. Katie lay in the dark for a while, the events of the day passing through her mind once more. It had been a fun lunch and she again congratulated herself for inviting Stella. But, in spite of her headache, sleep now refused her permission to re-enter.

  She knew Hamish loved her, but they had been married for fourteen years. While he made no obvious show of liking or admiring other women, the finest nuances are seldom lost on wives when it comes to their husbands’ reactions to attractive women and she was well aware that sometimes Hamish failed to hide it from her.

  He’d had after all, she told herself, very limited time to sow his wild oats before they had married as she had become pregnant. She felt his broad body lying with his back to her and manoeuvred her own next to his. He always gave off body heat and even with only a sheet to cover them, the bed was becoming surprisingly warm.

  Wrapping a soft arm round his waist, she held her man for a while then lowered her hand to his sleeping penis. She held and massaged it gently, hoping he would respond. “You awake, Hami?” She hoped he would answer. He stirred to move her hand away and mumbled something about being too tired.

  She had known that from the way he stood that tiny bit taller and became that fraction more gallant and shown a tinge of extra interest in what she said that he had fancied Louise. But had he taken it further than that? Katie couldn’t get the idea out of her aching mind.