The House Sitter

by Jill Barry

  He looked up from the LCD display. “Decided not to accept my offer, ay? So, what now, Bethan?”

  “We can’t fight someone’s state of mind.”

  “Suzanne Deacon’s or Ruth Morgan’s?”

  “Both, maybe,” said Bethan. “I’m so sorry, Ray.”

  He shrugged. “This message may come via Mrs Deacon’s phone, but I’d bet next month’s salary she didn’t send it.”

  “I’ll try Eddie Deacon’s mobile first.” Bethan waited. Left a voice mail message. Tapped her nails on the table. “Land line next and if he doesn’t pick up, I’ll leave a message saying I’ll ring first thing Monday morning.”

  “I guess that’s all you can do. The plot thickens.”

  But Bethan was frowning. “I’m getting the unobtainable tone. I wish I could think that was down to absentmindedness on the part of one of them. But I can’t.”

  Ray leaned across the table and took both her hands in his. “You’re not the Deacons’ nursemaid. You’re not at work. You’re with me and this is a chance to enjoy each other’s company. What may or may not happen between us in the future is up for discussion. But nothing’s going to happen tonight, so relax. Forget Three Roads. I shall need to drive back to London tomorrow but I’ll be in touch on Monday morning. In a personal capacity as well as in my house purchasing mode.”

  She felt a small surge of joy. “Thank you. And, you’re right of course – the Deacons have to sort out their own problems.”

  The waiter hovered, two large menus in his hands.

  Ray’s big hands gave her slender fingers one last squeeze. He looked up at the young man. “So, what do you recommend?”

  Bethan waited until their meal was ordered before reminding Ray of his promise. “You mentioned something about a woman called Julia. What was all that about?”

  He nodded. “Weird. That time I walked up the hill with Ruth Morgan, there was something about her that seemed familiar. So familiar that I asked her whether she’d ever worked in Edinburgh.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, a while back now, I spent a couple of years in the city. A scandal hit the headlines – maybe not shocking enough for national coverage but there was stuff in the local papers. A couple of retired doctors, a younger, glamorous housekeeper and the husband’s sudden death. I don’t have to spell it out?”

  Bethan frowned. “Well, no, but what has this to do with our friend the house sitter?”

  “It wasn’t so much that Ruth Morgan’s face reminded me of Julia Hayes, the housekeeper under fire. This was a while back. Maybe a decade. It was that throat stroking gesture that triggered something. You know what I mean? Plus her build, though this woman was a blonde.”

  “How difficult is it for someone to change their hair colour! Ray, this is worrying.” Bethan, leaned forward.

  “Isn’t it just? When questioned by local police investigating the sudden demise of the husband, the housekeeper admitted certain facts proving she was either stupid or extremely clever.”

  “Like?” Bethan took a sip of champagne.

  “Julia admitted the husband became infatuated with her but she’d always withstood his advances because of her fondness for his wife. The old chap suffered a fatal heart attack one morning and collapsed on the landing between the marital bedroom and the room used by their housekeeper.”

  “So the housekeeper didn’t murder the husband?”

  “Some of the wilder theories doing the rounds were that he might well have met his end within the steamy confines of Julia’s bed and that she’d dragged him out to the landing while his wife still slept. It didn’t take long for someone to point out that her housekeeper could easily have added a little something to the bedtime drinking chocolate. Julia ‘discovered’ the body at seven o’clock, after showering and dressing ready for breakfast preparation.”

  “So there was nothing to prove any wrong doing on the housekeeper’s part?”

  “Exactly,” said Ray. “She’d washed up all the crockery and stated the wife was awake when she took in her morning tea before sitting down and breaking the sad news. I remember thinking how clinical this sounded but Julia professed her grief and her loyalty to her remaining employer and stayed until the widow moved into sheltered accommodation, having rewarded her faithful housekeeper with a generous golden handshake.”

  “How come you know so much?”

  “A colleague of mine was a former patient of the husband, that’s how. He was dining out on the tale.”

  Bethan shook her head. Slowly. “I suppose I’m prejudiced but I can well believe that housekeeper was the woman we know as Ruth Morgan.”

  “As you say, our opinions are coloured by our suspicions but it’s something to keep under our hats for the time being, don’t you think? Even though the husband’s death was pronounced as due to natural causes, if Ruth Morgan really is the woman I’ve read about, the last thing she’ll do is admit it.” He paused. “And who knows what else she’s capable of?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When she was certain Suzanne was no longer wakeful, Ruth collected the tea things and laid the tray down outside the door so she could lock Suzanne in. The poor woman needed a proper rest after all she’d gone through.

  But, if she should happen to wake later and Ruth was elsewhere in the house, would her friend panic? Suzanne’s attitude towards Ruth veered from warm to frigid and back to warm. Ruth needed her on her side. Keeping his wife imprisoned might offer too much ammunition to Eddie, once he discovered he was barred from his own home. He might decide to return with a doctor or some kind of ridiculous mediator. Ruth unlocked the door.

  She went downstairs, unloaded the tray and washed up in the kitchen sink, ignoring the dishwasher. Eddie might return any time. He’d receive quite a surprise when he tried to come in through the back door. He’d assume Suzanne had bolted it and would probably go to the front door and take out his key. He kept all his keys on one ring, including that of his car. But it didn’t matter. Both doors were bolted.

  Everything had clarified. The Deacons must not move and leave her alone in Three Roads. If Eddie came to his senses and agreed things should return to the way they were before the sale board appeared, Ruth would let him into the house. But he’d have to sign the letter she was about to compose. She walked into the drawing room and across to the bureau where Suzanne kept her notepaper. How typical that it must be stationery purchased in London’s Bond Street.

  Ruth pulled out the antique chair and sat down. How right it felt, to be sitting here. She uncapped Suzanne’s fountain pen and tried a few strokes on a scribble pad. The pen needed refilling. She reached for the bottle of Mediterranean blue ink and watched the pen’s belly consume the dark liquid.

  She began writing a brief letter for Eddie to sign. Suzanne could sign it too. Whether or not she’d returned to full consciousness. Ruth’s lips stretched into a satisfied smile. Everything would be all right. She wouldn’t crowd them for the time being. She’d stay at Rock Cottage, unless of course Eddie decided Suzanne needed more attention than he could give. He had his golf. His camera club meetings. His ability to lose several hours in front of the television set, watching Wimbledon or winter sports or whatever currently took his fancy.

  It would be good to drive Suzanne around again. She would no longer tease her about having expensive tastes. She’d share in them. Eddie would be grateful and would increase his gifts of wine. She’d let Suzanne continue paying for meals and drinks they enjoyed while out together. There’d still be visits to the arts centre and she could suggest an occasional outing to Cardiff. If Eddie made her a named driver on his insurance policy, she could drive them all back. She didn’t have a problem with night driving but suspected he had. Or soon would.

  Everything would work out to perfection. She smiled again as she composed the brief but important letter. This time, she’d have something tangible – a permanent reminder of the bond between her and the Deacons, rather than a half-remembered remark
, carelessly spoken and conveniently discarded by Suzanne.

  She’d completed the letter and was on her feet when she heard the ring of the doorbell. She took a quick peep through the window and saw Eddie Deacon, hands on hips, standing on the front step. His face stony, he stared at the door as if willing it to open.

  She strolled through to the hallway and, leaving the safety chain in position, peered out at him.

  “What the hell’s going on? Open the frigging door this minute!”

  “In a while. First we need to establish ground rules.”

  “I’m trying to keep my patience. Joke’s over.”

  “It’s not a joke, Eddie. You seriously upset Suzanne. Fortunately, I’ve been able to calm her down so please don’t do anything foolish like ring the doorbell again.”

  “Where is my wife?”

  “Resting upstairs.”

  “Thank you. Now, if you’ll kindly open this door, I shall relieve you of your responsibilities.”

  Ruth sighed. “Oh dear. You just don’t get it, do you? You’re no longer in control here, Eddie. Suzanne is in no fit condition to cope with moving house. But, please don’t worry. I’m here to help you adjust to the situation. I’ve already contacted Mrs Harley to let her know.”

  “You’ve what?”

  “We must get your hearing tested, my dear. I’ve been wondering whether to drop a tactful hint about it.”

  “You cunning cow. Let me in or I’ll ring 999.”

  “Not a good idea, Eddie. Not with your vulnerable wife in the house, traumatised by your behaviour. I think you’d find the police wouldn’t wish to disturb her as long as a responsible adult was present. I also think you might be well advised to drive into town and find a hotel for the night. Come back in the morning when you’re in a less belligerent frame of mind.”

  He vanished from view. She pushed the door closed. Waited. Walked back into the sitting room and sat down in Eddie’s favourite armchair to watch television on the big, widescreen.

  Bethan and Ray had chosen their starters and main courses when her mobile buzzed into life again.

  “Don’t mind me,” said Ray.

  She mouthed an apology. He leaned back in his chair, watching her face as she listened. She knew he saw her body stiffen. Knew he was watching her free hand twirl a strand of hair.

  “Mr Deacon, I’m so sorry. I understand how you must feel. You have my word I shall disregard the instruction you know nothing about. I did try to ring you.”

  She listened, nodding.

  “So that’s tantamount to a hostage situation. How do you intend on dealing with this?”

  Bethan listened again, gaze fixed on Ray who now sat bolt upright in his chair, his eyes focused upon her.

  “Give me time to think. I promise I’ll ring you back soon. In the meantime, why not go and sit in your car? Or is there a neighbour you could visit? Mr Deacon, are you still there? Hello?”

  She closed the call. “He’s gone.”

  “I take it Morgan’s in the house with Mrs D and Mr D is out in the cold.”

  “Yes. Morgan gained entry while Eddie was out. She’s refusing to let him in and he’s decided not to call the police.”

  “Good decision. He’s the one outside and Morgan’s the one inside and she’s nothing if not plausible. The police would, with justification, side with the two women.”

  “I just hope Suzanne Deacon’s come to no harm. I’ve had bad vibes about those two ever since that text message.”

  “We’ll go over there. Now.”

  “Really? But neither of us should drive.”

  “I’m not over the limit, Bethan. Scout’s honour.” He got up and strode to the headwaiter’s desk as she watched. “Something’s cropped up, I’m afraid. We need to take a rain check on dinner. I’ll ring you later. Charge what you need to my account.”

  Bethan raced off to fetch her coat. When she emerged, Ray was waiting at Reception, car key in hand. He pushed open the swing door and she flew ahead of him. Out into the dank evening. He zapped his key and she saw lights flash. Heard the clunk of unlocking. She clambered into the Range Rover while he pulled open the driver’s door and jumped into the seat.

  “No time for good manners.” He selected reverse gear. Backed out and swung the wheel round again.

  “It’s an awful thing to say but we were right all along.”

  “You were right. Unfortunately.”

  “I hope Mr Deacon keeps his head,” said Bethan. “Goodness knows what Morgan’s state of mind is at the moment.”

  “Try his phone again. Tell him we’re on the way but on no account must he let Morgan know.”

  “Okay.” She busied herself with her mobile.

  “What’s happening?” Ray kept meticulously to the 30 miles an hour limit as they passed the primary school, and put his foot down the moment they sailed past the derestricted sign on the town outskirts. The sturdy vehicle began devouring the miles.

  “It’s ringing but he’s not answering,” said Bethan.

  “He could’ve dropped the darned thing.”

  “I’ll keep on trying.”

  “It’s a blessing we were in Knightly and not t’other place. We should get there in ten minutes,” said Ray.

  “I could try Mrs Deacon’s mobile, I suppose.”

  “You’re in charge but just to reassure you, I very much doubt she’ll come to any harm. Morgan needs her as a bargaining tool.”

  “That’s sick.”

  “It is. But it’s happening and it seems like you and I are the only ones who know the background.”

  “What do you propose doing?”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “Playing it by ear, my lovely. I’ll park in the lay by and walk up the track. Unless you can tell me how to sneak up unseen.”

  “If you go into Phil Sartin’s field, you should be able to find a gap in the foliage and come out round the side of the house.”

  “Perfect. The less thinking time we give Morgan, the better,” said Ray.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “So be it.”

  He glanced across. “You sound like a headmistress. Or one of those tough lady barristers.”

  “Keep your eyes on the road.”

  “I rest my case.”

  She turned her head towards her window so he couldn’t see her smile.

  “If you come with me, hang back, keep your phone in your hand and if I say the word, call the cops.”

  “Okay.”

  They drove on in silence. When Ray changed gear ready for the slope down into the village, Bethan took out her phone and stowed her bag beneath the passenger seat. Ray guided the big vehicle around the bend, past the turning to the track, and brought it to a halt in the lay by.

  They got out in silence. He took the key from the ignition but left the vehicle unlocked. She followed his powerful frame as he headed down the track. They climbed over the farm gate, still out of sight of anyone who might be watching from the house. Keeping close to the hedge, he walked several metres before stopping to examine the thick shrubbery at the side of The Sugar House’s front garden.

  “Someone, some time, has done what we’re about to do. Hang on to me and keep your head down.”

  Bethan hesitated.

  “Don’t be shy. Hook your fingers into the back of my belt.”

  She followed him as he plunged into the stunning swathe of foliage he’d inherit if he ever succeeded in buying the house.

  “I need to check out Mr Deacon’s car. If he’s sitting in it, I’ll find out if there’s something to help us gain access.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  “We need to get in. Period. We know Mr D has his keys with him so Morgan must have bolted both doors. Come to think of it, when I inspected the shed this morning, I noticed an extending ladder.”

  “You’re thinking of the balcony?”

  “Right. But this kind of breaking and entering needs t
o be a two-man job. You up for it?”

  “Of course.” Bethan swallowed hard. “Do you want me to do the talking or do you want me to climb?”

  He hesitated. “Our delightful friend’s unlikely to have added you to her Christmas card list. If I can get the ladder secured, are you happy to climb it while I keep her talking?”

  “I’m not afraid of heights.”

  “Sure you’re sober?”

  “I’m sober.”

  “Adrenalin’s a powerful drug. Even if Mr D’s still outside, I’d like to keep him out of this.”

  On impulse she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Good luck, Ray.”

  She heard him suck in his breath. “We’ll both need it. Now, walk down the edge of the flowerbed behind me so our footsteps don’t give us away.”

  Again, she followed him. Almost walked into him when he came to an abrupt halt. A hedgehog had ambled across his path, heading for the lawn. He reached behind for her hand and clasped it. She waited while he approached the car and checked it.

  “There’s no sign of him and we haven’t time to speculate. This next bit could be a tad noisy but I’ll do my best. Meantime try ringing Morgan’s mobile. With any luck it’ll distract her. You do have her number?”

  “Yes. Eddie gave it to me. What shall I say?”

  “She probably won’t answer. If she does, make it up as you go along but don’t wind her up.”

  He moved into the shadows. Bethan heard the soft snick of the shed door unlatching. Something she’d noticed before was the Deacons’ lack of security precautions but they knew the area and this omission assisted Ray to carry out his plan. Hopefully, the balcony door to the master bedroom would be unlocked as it had been on all the viewings she’d attended.

  Within moments Ray had the ladder extended. Bethan had progressed far beyond nervousness in her determination to get the better of the house sitter. Ray walked back to join her and whispered his next instruction. As he retraced his steps, she walked at the same steady pace. Four feet crunching in synchronisation upon gravel sounded like two feet. No one listening from within could know someone was creeping towards the ladder while Ray stood ringing the bell.