by J. R. Ellis
‘Yes, well, we’ve all seen it now, if we didn’t already know. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t more to come. That detective will uncover as much dirt as he can on our family and . . .’
She let him go on and relaxed as the moment passed. It was uncomfortable for her to talk about Freddy. She didn’t want to arouse any suspicions in her husband.
The MG motored smoothly down the A1. The hood was over and the occupants cut rather less glamorous figures than they had when they’d arrived at the Hall on that night, which seemed so long ago now, when Redmire had been murdered. James Forsyth was tense at the wheel of the car, and Alex Davis seemed to have lost a great deal of her style and energy. She sat with her head slumped against the window. They were driving to Cambridgeshire to stay with a business friend of James’s.
‘Do you think he thinks we did it? You know, that chief inspector chap,’ murmured Alex.
James looked ahead at the dull road, which passed through the flat fields of eastern England. ‘I think he still suspects everyone. I don’t sense he thinks he’s anywhere near the answer yet.’
‘No.’ Alex paused for a few moments. ‘Were you expecting that money in the will?’
‘Yes.’
She turned to face him in surprise. ‘Why? You didn’t think Freddy was guilt-ridden about his behaviour over the business, did you? That’s not his way.’
‘No, of course not, but I knew he was going to leave me something.’
‘He told you? How come?’
‘Let’s say I’d been applying a little pressure recently. I was hoping for more, but never mind.’
‘Pressure? What on earth do you mean?’
‘Nothing you need to know about, my dear, but it’s paid off, hasn’t it? It’s not a fortune, but it will help the business along a bit. Sales haven’t been brilliant recently. Mind you, it’s probably a good thing he popped off now before his debts got any higher, otherwise I might not have got anything.’
‘James, you’re being very mysterious. I hope you haven’t done anything too . . . well, extreme.’
‘Nice way of putting it, but “ask no questions, tell no lies” is the way. It’s all in the past now, so don’t worry about it.’
Alex didn’t pursue it any further. The truth was that, despite what she might say, she didn’t care what kind of relationship there’d been between her present and former lovers, or what they might have done to each other. Her life had been constructed around securing men who could keep her living in the style to which she had grown accustomed. Her passion for Freddy had dimmed over time and now he’d gone. James was here, and that was all that mattered.
She dozed off for the rest of the journey and only woke up when James had drawn the car up to the security gates that protected his friend’s huge house just outside a Cambridgeshire village. He spoke briefly on his phone, the gates swung open and the MG crunched up the gravel drive, which curved through thick foliage towards the house.
In the former head gardener’s house, Alistair and Katherine were having a difficult time. They were trying to absorb everything that had happened and deal with the reactions of their two daughters. Eight-year-old Caroline was sitting at the large wooden kitchen table drawing pictures, while six-year-old Emily was playing with Lego on the floor.
‘Are we going to live in the big house now?’ asked Caroline.
‘Yes, darling, but not just yet.’
‘I don’t want to!’ cried Emily. ‘I want to stay here with Daisy and Lucy,’ she said, referring to the family pets. At that moment Daisy the cat slunk past and just evaded Emily’s lunge towards her.
‘Daisy and Lucy will be coming with us. There’s plenty of room in the big house.’
‘Are you Lord Redmire now Grandpa’s dead?’ asked Caroline.
‘Grandpa’s dead, poor Grandpa’s dead,’ sang Emily. ‘He’s in his coffin like this.’ She lay on the floor flat and rigid with her hands on her stomach.
‘Emily! That’s not very nice,’ said Katherine as Caroline laughed.
‘Will you have to wear a crown and a long gown thing?’
‘No, that’s only when there’s a coronation, and I’m not a duke so I wouldn’t have to do it.’
‘Will I be a duchess when I grow up?’
‘Only if you marry a duke.’
‘I’m not marrying anybody when I grow up. I hate boys,’ said Emily.
‘No one would marry you anyway – you’re too ugly.’
‘Caroline! That’s not very nice,’ repeated Katherine.
‘Am not!’ shrieked Emily.
‘Shh, settle down, girls,’ said their father. ‘It’s bedtime now.’
After some protest and threats of punishment, the girls gave in. Caroline showed Alistair the picture she had drawn, which showed him sitting on a kind of throne wearing a crown. ‘Lord Alistair Redmire’ was scrawled underneath.
Katherine took the girls upstairs. It was her turn to put them to bed. They had always shared the childcare responsibilities and one of their many relative frugalities was their decision not to employ a nanny. Alistair preferred it that way after his experiences at boarding schools.
Katherine returned to find Alistair deep in thought. She slumped down into a chair and sighed.
‘Are they settled?’ he asked her.
‘I think so.’
‘Well, this is the first time we’ve had a chance to talk today. Do you fancy a glass of wine?’
‘Oh, yes please.’
Alistair got up and opened a bottle of red. It was a good-quality but not top-notch supermarket wine. He handed a glass to Katherine.
‘Well, cheers, Lady Redmire!’
‘Oh my God; I still can’t believe it! That sounds so weird but it’s actually happened!’
‘Yep.’
They both sipped their wine in silence for a while, each contemplating the huge change that was about to affect their lives forever.
‘It’s what we’ve been planning for and thinking about for a long time. I’m determined we’re going to make a success of it.’ Alistair sounded tough and single-minded.
‘How bad do you think the debts are?’
‘I’ve no idea until I’ve had a session with the accountant, but I expect they’ll be substantial. My father never spoke to me about money and I think it was partially because he was ashamed. It wasn’t just the club; I caught him once or twice in the office on online betting sites. He was pretty addicted towards the end.’
‘That’s awful. Why didn’t he ask for help?’
‘Not my father. Too proud.’
‘Do you think things will have to be sold off, like the solicitor suggested?’
‘Again, difficult to tell for sure, but Sidgwick seemed confident that it wouldn’t come to that. I think if things are bad, I should make a bit of a sacrifice for Poppy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, it’s not really fair that she has to take the brunt of my father’s losses. The estate I inherit was protected by the trust, so if Poppy stands to lose a lot I think I’ll compensate her.’
‘OK, but you know she’ll blow it all in no time.’
‘Everyone seems to think that about Poppy, but she’s shrewder with money than you think. She may not always strive very hard to earn it, and she spends a lot on clothes and stuff, but she doesn’t throw it away like Father did.’
‘And how will you be able to make up her losses? We’re not going to have a great deal of spare money for some time if what you say about your father is true.’
‘I’ll find a way. There are things owned by the estate that we don’t need, like stables full of horses and the vast wine cellar. We need to sell off some of these assets and Poppy can have a share.’
‘As long as the girls and I can carry on riding.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s a matter of scaling things down, not eliminating them altogether. My father and grandfather maintained a lot of this stuff because it was expected that if you had a sta
tely home like this you would have horses and paintings and so on. My father didn’t even ride, for goodness’ sake, but he had to have stables. I’m going to change all that. It’s time we became more pragmatic, and less concerned with status for its own sake.’
‘Bravo!’ laughed Katherine and clapped.
‘We’ve got a good team here,’ continued Alistair enthusiastically, ‘and I can’t wait to get started on it.’ He drank some wine. ‘Things are already kicking off, though. I’ve had Uncle Dominic angling for help with his business.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I was non-committal; I can’t see that there’s any chance I’ll be able to help him in the near future. I think he knows that, really. Also there are my father’s plans for the estate to deal with.’
‘You told the police he never discussed them with you.’
‘Well, it’s true – he didn’t. It was all top-secret; only the property developers he consulted knew anything in detail. We’ll have to wait until the police have finished their investigations before we can start to take control.’
Katherine shook her head and looked around at the spacious kitchen with its Aga cooker and comfortable sofa, all soon to be replaced by much grander accommodation. ‘You know, it sounds a harsh thing to say, but maybe this was the right time for your father to go. Any longer and . . . who knows?’
Alistair took another a drink of wine. The steeliness was there again. ‘I agree.’
While the family and friends of the former Lord Redmire were dispersing from the Hall and attempting to digest all that had happened, Oldroyd was taking a little time out at his flat in Harrogate.
When he was not at work he liked to listen to CD Review on Radio 3, and the ‘Building a Library’ slot was his favourite. The experience also stilled his mind if he was involved in a tricky case, as he was now.
He was in his armchair drinking coffee and listening to the varied interpretations of Dvořak’s ‘American’ String Quartet when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He opened it and was utterly astonished to find his wife, Julia, waiting outside. For a few moments he stood looking blankly at her.
‘Hello, Jim. Can I come in?’ she said finally.
‘Yes, yes, of course. What are you doing here?’ he asked lamely.
She sat in an armchair opposite his. Her skin was tanned from her recent holiday and Oldroyd’s eyes were drawn towards her shapely bare legs. As he looked at her Oldroyd felt the same confusing mixture of emotions that he’d experienced every time they’d met since their separation: regret, exasperation, attraction and, yes, love. Another feeling was hope, and he wondered why she was paying him this rare visit.
‘Can I get you a drink or anything?’ He turned off the radio.
‘No thanks. I’m meeting Susan in a little while. I just called round to tell you something that I didn’t want to say over the phone.’
He didn’t like the sound of this. She looked as if what she was going to say wasn’t easy. ‘The thing is, Jim, I’ve met someone else. It’s only in the early stages, but if things work out I think we should get divorced.’
It was confirmation of his worst fears. He had to fight hard to take the news with dignity.
‘I see. It’s Peter, isn’t it? Doesn’t he work at the college with you?’
‘Yes. I expect Louise must have said something.’
‘Just that – nothing else.’
‘Well, I thought you should know. I want everything to stay amicable and I don’t want to drop things on you out of the blue.’
‘Good, well, I appreciate it and I . . . I hope things go well for you.’ He was really struggling.
‘There comes a time when we all have to move on, Jim, and stop trying to recreate the past – and I mean all of us. You, too.’ There was sympathy but firmness in her voice.
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Oldroyd said.
‘What are you doing with yourself these days? Is it still just work, work, work?’
‘Well, no, I hope not. I try to get out now and again, to concerts and stuff.’
It sounded pathetic. With a shock he realised how appalling his personal life had become: a lonely man living in a flat with virtually no social life. No wonder there was no desire on her side to have him back, although he’d always made it clear that that was what he hoped for. Would he want himself back?
He tried to sip his coffee, but felt he might be sick. Julia changed the subject.
‘How is she, anyway? I haven’t heard from her since I got back.’
‘Fine, spends most of her time in Leeds.’
‘Has she said when she’s intending to come back home? Most of her books are at my place; I assume she’s going to do some reading before next term.’
‘No, but she’s got another two months yet. You worry about her too much. I’m hoping she might get some kind of job for a while so she can pay off a bit of debt.’
‘Huh. Well, her record on that score’s not brilliant, is it?’
‘Give her a chance. You’re on her back all the time; that’s why you’re always having rows.’
‘And then she comes here because you’ve always been a soft touch.’
It was a conversation they’d had many times. Neither of them wanted to pursue it now.
Julia stood up. ‘OK, I’m off. Tell her to give me some warning when she’s coming back. I stripped the beds before I went on holiday and I haven’t made hers up again yet.’
‘I will. Bye for now, then.’
‘Bye.’
Suddenly she was gone. He felt numb. He couldn’t bring himself to turn the radio back on, and sat motionless in the chair. He’d been thrust into a new world of cruel reality, in which he now saw that all his hopes of them being reconciled had been illusory. As she’d said, it had all been about trying to regain the past. The problem was that when he steeled himself to consider his future, all he saw was a terrifying void.
He was still there several hours later when Louise came in, although by then he’d drunk a bottle of red wine. He was watching horse racing on television. She threw her bag on the sofa beside him.
‘Hi, Dad!’ She went into the narrow kitchen and came back with a glass of water.
Oldroyd hadn’t replied to her greeting.
‘What’re you doing? Watching racing? That’s not like you.’ Then she saw the empty bottle. ‘Wow! You have been hitting the bottle! Are you celebrating something?’
‘Nope. Quite the opposite.’
Louise sat down where her mother had sat, across from Oldroyd. She looked at his miserable face.
‘What’s happened? You look awful.’
Oldroyd picked up his glass and drained it.
‘Your mum’s been round.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes. She wants a divorce.’
‘What? Is that what she said?’
Oldroyd switched off the television. ‘If her relationship with this bloke develops.’
‘OK. And how did you react?’
Oldroyd shrugged. ‘I just said, “Fine.” What else could I say? Then she went. She wasn’t here more than twenty minutes.’
Louise sighed. Oldroyd again had the feeling of role reversal. ‘So you’ll just have to accept it, won’t you? Did she say anything else?’
‘Just something about “It’s time for us all to move on” and . . .’ He couldn’t continue. He was perilously close to tears.
‘And is she right, Dad?’
Oldroyd sighed. ‘I suppose so. Somehow I never thought it would come to this. I always thought we’d, as I told you, get back together.’
‘Without really changing anything.’
He shook his head.
Louise came over and put her arm around his shoulder. ‘Look, you’ve been in all afternoon. It’s a nice day. Go out and have a long walk and I’ll make some tea. Do you fancy pasta bake?’
‘That’ll be great. Thanks. Look, before I go, I’ve been sitting here thinking and going through what happ
ened and all through the past and everything. I realise I’ve never really spoken to you or Robert about what it was like for you when I left. You were both still at school.’
‘We managed OK. It happens a lot these days. Lots of our friends had their parents split up. You and Mum weren’t bitter about it all and to be honest we probably saw as much of you after it happened as we did before, because you made an effort to keep in touch with us.’
‘I know. I’m sorry it was like that. I’m a work addict, always have been. It’s the kind of job that really takes you over.’
‘Yes. Actually Robert and I were always very proud of you, you know, all the times you were on telly and solving cases that were in the news. It impressed our friends.’ She laughed. ‘But it was difficult for Mum, with you not there most of the time.’
‘I know. I’ve made a huge mess of it all. We were once all so happy together and—’
‘Go for your walk now.’
He nodded, got up and went out.
He wandered across the Stray down to the Royal Pump Room, where he caught a whiff of the sulphur well beneath the building. He continued up through the Valley Gardens, past the ornamental flowerbeds, the families playing crazy golf and people playing tennis. He felt strangely detached from it all, but his mood began to improve a little as he reached the Pine Woods and headed towards Harlow Carr.
Louise was right: he needed to stop deceiving himself and think more positively about some kind of future without Julia. That was still very difficult and painful to think about but he had to make a serious start. He was just in time to catch Betty’s tearoom at Harlow Carr RHS Gardens and treated himself to tea and one of their famous fat rascals before walking back. He passed several couples walking their dogs.
Later, back at his flat, he sat with Louise eating the pasta she had prepared.
‘This is lovely,’ he said. ‘I can’t say how grateful I am to you for looking after your old dad.’
‘Don’t be silly. And I don’t like that tone of self-pity!’
‘OK. I haven’t asked you what you’ve been up to today.’
She frowned. ‘I’ve been trying to get a summer job. They were advertising for meet-and-greet people at the Imperial Hotel, where they do those conferences, and I got an interview. So I went over there this morning and there was this grinning bloke in a suit doing the introductions – fat belly and reeked of aftershave. It was all young women being interviewed and you wouldn’t believe the kind of things he was saying, like: “We’d want you to wear a blouse, a formal skirt and plenty of make-up because the male clients prefer that.” I’ll bet they bloody do, but you won’t catch me doing it. What year are some of these people living in?’