When he left an hour later his thoughts were in turmoil. Walking back westward along the cliff path, oblivious of the icy chill of the wind coming from the sea, he had the strangest feeling that he was walking in the wrong direction.
* * *
Rupert allowed the party to degenerate from reasonably orderly dancing to a sort of free-for—all where couples sat and did their own thing, kissing, finding a room for some privacy. He began to be bored, just wandering through the noisy crowd and offering more drink where required. All evening he had been watching Helen’s daughter Henrietta, and gradually he realized that the way she was looking at him was no longer casual. At ten o’clock he suggested she went with him to the garage, where his parents had stored their recently bought Christmas drinks and ‘Find something a bit more exciting than the cheap plonk we managed to sneak in.’
‘You don’t mean spirits?’ Henri looked shocked.
‘Of course not. But they have some better quality wine. I thought you and I might try it.’
He led her through the kitchen door and into the garage, where Cynthia’s car stood. From the sounds coming from it and the movement of the chassis, it seemed occupied.
‘Pity. I could have taken you for a little drive.’ Rupert whispered.
‘You aren’t old enough to drive!‘
‘I’m old enough for plenty of things, Henri. Hidden talents I’ve got, want me to prove it? I know where we can find a car that won’t be missed for half an hour.’
Hesitating only briefly, Henri followed him at a fast walk along the road to Jeremy and Justin’s house.
* * *
Cynthia and Christian had promised not to return home until eleven fifteen so, after they had eaten, they went to a club. The first person they saw there was Vivienne.
‘Are you following me, spying for Cath?’ Vivienne laughed. She introduced the man she was with, whom they had already seen at the restaurant, as Sidney Deetam, a salesman in a men’s tailors and ready-to—wear shop.
‘We’ve been thrown out of our home for the evening,’ Christian explained. ‘The boys are having their first Christmas party without us being there.’
‘I have four sisters and we used to have some really wild dos at our house,’ Sidney said. ‘I have a large family, so with all the sisters and their friends and all the cousins and their friends, we had no difiiculty organizing a party. Wild we were, mind. If our parents had seen half of the things we got up to…’ He emphasized his words giving them a confidential tone and Cynthia wondered whether her first impression had been correct.
Sidney was an excellent dancer though, and a good raconteur, and the hours passed happily in his company. As so often happens, they discovered mutual friends, and while Vivienne and Christian were dancing, Sidney told Cynthia that a friend of his owned one of the houses in her area.
‘He’s selling though, some worry with subsidence, but I think he’s crazy. It’s probably untrue and he’ll regret selling, I’m sure of that. He’ll never get such a beautiful house with such a wonderful view again.
‘Subsidence? That’s nonsense! My husband’s firm built them and he wouldn’t own one himself if there was the slightest danger of subsidence, would he?’
‘There you go then,’ Sidney said cheerfully.
* * *
At ten forty-five, Joanne put on her coat and picked up her car keys to collect Jeremy and Justin. She couldn’t wait any longer, their first grown—up style party had made her edgy all evening. As she opened the door she saw at once that her car was not there. Disbelief was quickly followed by the thought that she couldn’t collect her boys. She phoned the B and B where John usually stayed when he was in Newport but he wasn’t there. Police? But that would delay her going to get the boys. At this moment, they were her priority. She would have to walk over to collect them and deal with the loss of the car when they were home.
She couldn’t find her handbag and stood unable to think clearly of what to do. She couldn’t go out and leave the house unlocked. She stepped towards the phone. Why didn’t John get a mobile? He should be here to deal with this, or at least be reachable. Spare keys. Not on their hook. In the drawer? She tugged the drawer open with unnecessary force and spilled the contents over the floor. She scrabbled about to find the key-ring. House keys were there, but where was the car key? She pushed the contents of the drawer around in panic. But she didn’t need the car key without a car, did she? She took a few deep breaths to calm herself.
Grabbing the dog’s lead, she hurried from the house. The cliff path was quicker but it was late and very dark. She took the longer route around the roads, half running, half walking, and was out of breath when she reached the Sewell’s still noisy house.
There were several cars in the spacious drive, obviously parents calling to collect their children. Children unwilling to go by some of the arguments going on and the way coats were snatched from parents by sulky owners.
Cynthia tried to put the words Sidney Deetam had spoken regarding subsidence out of her mind and at five minutes to eleven she did a Cinderella act and dragged Christian away as though their taxi, ordered for five minutes time, would be transformed into a pumpkin and no longer large enough to hold them if they waited another moment. During the short journey she said nothing to Christian.
‘That Sidney’s a decent fellow.’ Christian remarked as the taxi stopped at their gate.
‘Ye-es.’ Cynthia didn’t sound convinced and as soon as they stepped out, the noise coming from the house made any further comment impossible.
The first person to greet them was Joanne. ‘My car has been stolen!’ she said before they reached the front door. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Ring the police, surely?’ Cynthia said, hurrying past with bated breath wondering about the state of the house. Millie was not available to help clear up. She had been stupid to give her time off when the party was already planned.
'Do you want this taxi to take you back?’ Christian offered.
Joanne shook her head, she didn’t have any money on her and didn’t want the embarrassment of borrowing some from Christian or Cynthia. ‘It’s all right, we’ll walk and I’ll phone the police as soon as I get back.’
As they turned the corner to their house, to meet the icy wind coming in from the sea, Jeremy pointed. ‘What d’you mean, missing, Mummy? It’s there, in its usual place.’ He laughed uncontrollably, bending down, hands on knees, as the giggles took his strength, guessing why it had not been there a few minutes before. ‘That Rupert’s a cheeky one,’ he whis- pered to his brother between fits of laughing. ‘Him and that Henri were no doubt using it for a bit of fun.’
Accepting the teasing from the two hyped-up boys Joanne went to examine the car. The bonnet was warm. Someone had used it, but who, and why? Saying nothing further to the boys, she got them to bed and tried again to contact John, and failed.
Henri and her brothers declared the party a huge success when Helen and Reggie went to pick them up. William and George had spent most of the evening in the games room with Marcus. Henri said little and Reggie thought she might be a little drunk but he didn’t say anything. Like Cynthia, he thought that kids had to learn. But perhaps he’d have a quiet word with Cynthia and let her know that alcohol had been available. He doubted that she knew.
Cynthia hadn’t known but she soon did, having discovered the assortment of empty bottles the next morning. For the first time she berated her sons for their foolishness.
* * *
On the following day, Joanne had a call from Cynthia. ‘Look, I hope you aren’t offended, dear, but there’s a lot of food left from last night’s bash and I wondered whether your boys could help us out. I could bring enough for their meal tonight, chicken, ham, some salads, and lots of desserts. I’ve offered some to Meriel too and I could bring some for you at the same time.’
Thanking her, Joanne replaced the phone and sat racked with guilt. She couldn’t get the thought of stealing Cynthia’s purse o
ut of her mind. It was Cynthia’s kindness in offering to bring some of the leftover food that brought upsetting memories of the half forgotten incident. Unwanted food was hardly a gift of great value, but it was a kindness from someone she had robbed.
It had hardly helped anyway; that fifty pounds’ deposit on the skiing holiday would be lost as John had refused to pay the rest. But they couldn’t be so short of money that Jeremy couldn’t do the same as his friends. How could things be so tight, with John working practically around the clock and the businesses continuing to thrive?
She no longer dealt with the accounts for the firm, but until John had taken them from her and given the responsibility to a firm of accountants, everything was looking good. So why was he so mean with his family?
She heard a car arrive and, presuming it was Cynthia with the promised food, she quickly glanced in a mirror, touched up her lipstick and straightened her hair before going to open the door. But there was no one there, just an envelope on the mat in the hall. The postman had already been so she was curious as she picked it up. The envelope bore no message and inside she found a cheque for the amount needed for Jeremy’s school trip.
Curious, she sat down and stared at it. John must have asked someone to pop it in, but why hadn’t they knocked? It was rather off-hand. She tried to phone but as usual these days, he was nowhere to be found.
It was almost Christmas. What could he be doing that kept him away from home so much? She put the cheque in an envelope ready to go to the school after the holiday and within minutes was worrying about how she would find the money for the extra clothes Jeremy would need.
When Cynthia arrived bearing large platters holding enough food for a small party, she showed the envelope with the name of the teacher scrawled across it. ‘I’ve just written the cheque for Jeremy’s skiing trip,’ she said casually.
Seven
After Joanne had settled the boys in bed the night after Cynthia’s party, she sat for a long time puzzling over who had used her car, and why. Could it have been John? The cheque pushed through the door must mean he had been around, but if so, why hadn’t he come in? No, she was being ridiculous. It couldn’t have been John. He would hardly push an envelope through the door of his own home, he would have brought it in, had a meal, stayed the night. What was she thinking of? Of course it wasn’t John. He had obviously sent someone to deliver it but, if that was so, she was back to the question of who had used her car, and why?
Although it was very late, she went to look at the mileage then realized she had nothing with which to compare it. From now on, she would check very thoroughly. She looked thoughtfully at the garage. If only John would take out some of the rubbish he insisted on storing there, she could put the car away and that would stop whoever it was from using it, surely?
It was past midnight but she knew sleep wouldn’t come. She wandered aimlessly around the house, picking up magazines, searching for a place to put them where they would be least obtrusive, and ending up putting them back in the same place. From time to time she looked out into the blackness of the night as though expecting the faintly seen silhouette of the car to vanish once more. To catch the person who was using her car seemed an impossible task and she could hardly go to the police and tell them the car was being stolen and then returned.
Oh, why wasn’t John here? She envied her friends with husbands who worked for someone else, and did a reliable nine till five every day.
Taking out her purse and cheque—book she sat for a while working out how much she had to last until the next pay-day. Not much. A pity the opportunity to pick up someone else’s purse didn’t come along very often. The thought, darting so easily into her mind, frightened her. What was she becoming? John was changing her from a decent, honest person to someone who thought of stealing as a way to augment the housekeeping.
It was a long time since she had handled John’s business accounts and, on a whim, she went to his desk. The top was neat and orderly, with a few of the incoming sales dockets in one pile, the outgoings for the houses during the past month in another. The desk and all the drawers were locked. From what little she could see it seemed satisfactory, with more coming in than going out, but she knew that any profit went into the fund for acquiring new premises. Four houses let room by room and five small but busy cafes. There must be enough for him to increase her housekeeping. Jeremy and Justin were growing and their appetites, and clothing needs, were growing with them. Perhaps if she told him she had resorted to stealing from a friend it would frighten him into reassessing her pitifully small allowance?
She shuddered at the thought. Confessing would make it all more real and add to her guilt. In her opinion, whoever said ‘confession is good for the soul’, didn’t know what he was talking about.
* * *
Early the following morning, Meriel was walking past with the dogs and saw that a light was on in Joanne’s house. Surprised that her friend was up at seven a.m, during the school holidays, she knocked softly and waited.
A bleary-eyed Joanne opened the door and stared in surprise. ‘Meriel? Is something wrong?’
‘I’m fine, I just wondered if you were. It’s early to see a light as the schools are on holiday, and I thought perhaps someone was unwell?’
‘I haven’t slept to tell the truth, in fact I was just dozing on the couch when you knocked.’
‘I’m sorry I disturbed you.’ She turned to go.
‘Don’t worry, I have to start getting breakfast for the boys soon, although they might be late after Cynthia’s party. Come in and have a coffee.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Meriel looked at her two dogs, at present playing around outside the door with Joanne’s Fifi.
‘Bring the dogs, I’m past caring about the kitchen floor. The boys in and out and bringing half the cliff path in — I won’t attempt to revive the colour of the carpet until school starts again.’
Meriel sat at the kitchen table and watched as Joanne filled the cafetiere, guessing something was wrong, and wondering how to ask.
‘Did the party go well?’ she asked eventually.
‘The boys enjoyed it. But, Meriel, someone used my car last evening. I went to collect them and it wasn’t there. I flapped a bit, tried to ring John, who, as usual, wasn’t reachable — and when we got back from Cynthia’s it was back. And before you say it: no, I didn’t imagine it.’
‘Of course you didn’t imagine it. You park it close to the window, don’t you? You could hardly have been mistaken. It wasn’t John? He didn’t call and, as you were out, borrow it?’
‘I wasn’t out. It was there when I came back after walking the boys to Cynthia’s and when I went to collect them at ten thirty it was gone. A few minutes later it was back.’
Meriel was alarmed to see that Joanne was tearful. ‘Did you have any other visitors?’
‘No. That is, yes, sort of. An envelope with the cheque for the skiing holiday was slipped through the door and I can’t understand who left it. John would hardly do that and I can’t think why it was delivered by hand in such a casual way.’
‘Where is John? Perhaps he was unable to get home and wanted you to have it so you wouldn’t worry?’
‘Why should I worry? I have enough money to send my son on a school trip for heaven’s sake!’
‘I think the coffee’s ready,’ Meriel said quietly.
* * *
Coffee was being prepared in the Sewell household and, as with Joanne, their sons were still fast asleep. Cynthia had appeared from the bathroom with her make—up fully applied and her dress immaculate. Her hair was attractively styled and although short and rather mannish, looked less harsh by the addition of the earrings she habitually wore. She had been thinking about what Vivienne’s friend Sidney had said about subsidence and this was the first opportunity she’d had to mention it.
‘Rubbish!’ Christian laughed. ‘D’you think I’d be living here myself if there was danger of the house falling down? Come on, Cyn, you know m
e better than that. The foundations on this estate are the best. Much stronger than the depth and strength demanded by the building regulations. Believe me.’
‘I do, darling. Of course I do. But I was worried, hearing a rumour like that. I thought you should know, that’s all.‘
‘Did he give a reason for saying what he did?’
‘No, but…’ she hesitated before going on, ‘The boys said they were covered in soil one day back in the summer, when they were swimming near the place where the rocks are low down, closer to the sea and the soil is thicker. They said earth was sliding down and making the sea like mud.’
‘Reddish soil was it?’ When Cynthia nodded he said, ‘I knew it. They were making excuses. They’ve been in that cave. I told them never to go near it.’
‘No, they wouldn’t. I rarely insist on anything and I know they wouldn’t disobey me on that. The cave is out of bounds.’
The cave they referred to was not a cave at all, just a deep cavern where, years before, an attempt had been made to build a sewage system and had long been abandoned. Cynthia knew her boys wouldn’t go near it. ‘The mud was definitely from the sea,’ she insisted.
‘I’ll go and look if you like, but there’s no need, darling. These houses are set well back and most of the footings are on solid rock. Don’t worry.’
‘I’m not worried. I know you build houses to last. And perhaps it’s best if you don’t look. If people see you it will only add to the rumours.’ She smiled and tried to put the subject out of her mind.
‘You’re right love,’ Christian said. ‘Best we both forget it.’
As soon as Cynthia went out, Christian rang Ken Morris.
‘That’s funny,‘ Ken said. ‘I’ve heard that rumour too.’
Friends and Secrets Page 11