Agnes put the pages down again. David, Mark and Nina. All children or grandchildren of people who have lost their sight, employees of Allbright’s. And Mark’s eyes ... and Nina’s attack ... and David’s photograph ...
Her clock flashed 2:40 a.m. Still too early to phone Nina and tell her — tell her what, exactly? That she was owed money? Perhaps she got the money, perhaps Louisa did, and the Snaiths, perhaps it was all paid direct, so straightforward that they’d neglected to mention it. Perhaps this document meant nothing at all.
But then why hide it up the chimney?
Agnes lifted the pages, flicking through to the end, looking for some sign that the trust was annulled. The parchment gave way to thick, inky paper, which gave way to typeface. She saw the signature ‘William Baines’, the date, ‘September 1954’. She read the text above it, then read it again. It seemed to say that as at present there were no employees or descendants who met the criteria for receiving the trust moneys, and as the mill was short of funds, the money kept in trust was to be made available for the financing of redundancies. But in order not to break the terms of the trust as set down by his great-grandfather Jeremiah, any future employee who was found to comply with the terms would be granted one hundred shares in the company, as would their children and grandchildren as laid down by Jeremiah.
David, Mark and Nina were entitled to shares in Allbright’s. David, Mark and Nina could stop Turnbull selling the company. Mark could have stopped Turnbull selling the mill. If ...
Agnes felt very cold. She stood up and switched on her heater, and sat by it, pulling her cardigan around her. Perhaps she should phone the police. But what would she say? That Anthony Turnbull was so desperate to sell the mill that he’d followed Mark to the moors and —
And perhaps Anthony Turnbull didn’t know about this document. Perhaps all he knew was that Baines had hidden something that was connected to the sale of the mill.
And Reg, she thought. Had one of Reg’s relatives lost their sight?
It was 2:59 a.m.
She undressed and got into bed. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, for a long time, before settling into an uneasy sleep.
Before dawn she tried David’s mobile number but a recorded voice said it was switched off.
She phoned Nina, and a sleepy voice answered.
‘I’m sorry, it’s early — ’
‘Too right it is.’ Nina sounded cross.
‘It’s important.’
‘Did you put my files back last night?’
‘Yes, but this is more important — can I come round?’
‘Now?’
‘Yes.’
‘If you must. I’ll get dressed.’
*
They sat with mugs of tea. Nina read and re-read the pages that Agnes spread before her.
‘Did you know anything about this?’
‘Nothing at all.’ Nina turned another page. ‘It’s — it’s unbelievable. It must have just been convenient to Baines to forget about it, as no one was around who knew.’
‘I suppose with the mill needing the cash — ’
‘And there’s my mum, you said — ’
‘And Ernest Coulter, who was David and Mark’s grandfather ... ’
Nina raised her eyes from the parchment. ‘But people still knew about the trust in his day, judging from this.’
‘He’d have got the money, maybe. But then, after the war, there were so many other pension things ... ’
‘Mmmm. Maybe. I can’t take it in.’
‘It means you’re still in danger. And David.’
‘But why?’
‘Because you have a share in the mill.’
‘If all this is true. It’s a big if.’
‘Baines hid it. Turnbull’s looking for it. It must still be true.’
‘Oh God. Shall we tell the police?’
‘I suppose so. Although I’m not sure what we say.’ ‘That Turnbull’s on the loose and he’s a madman.’
‘It might not be — ’
‘I want him out of the way. He’s been really odd recently.’
‘Nina, they won’t arrest him immediately, even if we tell them. There’s no evidence — ’
‘Funny that. If it was Jay, he’d be banged up in police cells before you could say Racist Police State.’
‘But it’s not Jay.’
‘No, and Turnbull’s not black.’
Agnes began to roll the papers up. ‘What shall we do, then?’
‘Dunno. I can’t think straight. I ought to get Rosie up and get ready for work.’
‘You can’t go back there now.’
‘Why not? As far as Turnbull knows, nothing’s changed. That file’s still missing, if that’s the one he’s after.’
‘So you’re really determined to go into work?’
‘What’ll he think if I don’t?’
‘I’ll drive you, then.’
*
In the courtyard, two figures were shouting at each other, one elegant in camel coat and court shoes, the other wrapped in a skimpy denim jacket and high heels. Agnes turned into the car park and stopped the car.
‘Patricia,’ Nina said.
‘And Lianna.’
‘Who’s she?’
They got out of the car.
‘She lives on the estate,’ Agnes began.
‘Don’t you call me a slut,’ Lianna was shouting, teetering across the courtyard towards Patricia. Faces appeared at windows behind them.
‘Coming in here, accusing my husband — ’ Patricia’s voice was shrill.
‘Listen to you on your high horse. All I’ve come here for — ’
‘You’ve come to make trouble, and you can bloody well go away again. Things are bad enough for Anthony without you — ’
‘Oh, poor, poor Anthony. Well listen to me, lady, your bloody Anthony promised me — ’
‘I’m not interested,’ Patricia shouted.
‘I’ve only come to get what’s mine, what he said he’d give me!’
‘I’m sure he said nothing of the sort. The idea that Anthony would make promises to a cheap tart like — ’
‘Tart am I? And what does that make you, eh? Who buys your clothes? Who pays for your bleedin’ five bedroom three bathroom Jacuzzi bloody three acre pad, eh? And you think you’re better than me — what’re you doing here?’ Lianna turned in astonishment as Agnes took hold of her arm.
‘Perhaps that’s enough, Lianna, don’t you think?’
‘I only want what’s mine,’ Lianna said.
Nina had gone to Patricia, and now put her arm around her and ushered her inside.
‘And what is yours? Someone else’s husband?’
‘Maybe.’
They sat on the car park wall.
‘All I want,’ Lianna said, ‘is what he said he’d give me.’
‘And what was that?’
‘He came to see me, right, ’cos he knew me from the sports centre, when we were all doing that, right, well, not me, but he knew I knew Mark and that, and he asked me about Billy Keenan, and them papers — ’
‘What papers?’
‘Billy and Mark had some of the accounts for the centre, and did I know where they were, as I know Billy, and I said I didn’t know, ’cos I don’t, right, and I don’t have much to do with Billy, like lots of folk round here, and he were dead nice to me, Turnbull were, and he give me some money, and he said he’d look after me, and he were talking about this flat he knew about, over Ilkley way, dead posh, he said I could have it — ’
‘When was this?’
‘Day before yesterday. And so I waited yesterday, and nothing happened, and then — and then someone I don’t want to see is trying to get to me, and I thought, if I could get away, that’d be it, then, I’d be able to get on wi’ me life, and now that old slag of a wife of his says he’s gone off somewhere, and I’ve nowhere to go, and he said, he promised ... ’ Lianna burst into tears.
Agnes waited until her sobbing had
subsided. ‘I’d better take you home,’ she said.
Lianna stood up, swaying on her high heels. She sniffed. ‘They’re all bastards in the end, aren’t they?’
‘Lianna?’ Agnes opened the passenger door for her, and Lianna got in. ‘It wasn’t Turnbull who — ’
‘Who beat me up?’ Lianna laughed. ‘No, it weren’t. Why? D’you think he’s the sort?’
‘Right now, I don’t know anything about that man at all.’
They drove to Lianna’s house. As they approached, Lianna covered her face with her hands and burst into tears again.
‘I can’t ... ’ she was saying.
‘Who are you scared of?’
She shook her head.
‘Lianna — if you tell me, I can help — ’
‘No one can help.’ She took her hands from her face.
‘Why was Turnbull promising you a flat?’
‘He thinks I know more than I do. Billy’s got something he wants. These papers. Turnbull’s desperate for them. If I get Billy to hand them over, he’ll help me.’
‘Is it Billy you’re frightened of?’
‘No.’
‘Who is it?’
‘I’ll tell you why I’m scared. ’Cos it’s me, in the end. What I do to myself, with the smack an’ that, in the end, it’s me, in’t it?’ She opened the car door. ‘Thanks for the lift.’ She got out of the car and slammed the door.
On the drive back, Agnes found herself making plans for Lianna: she’d find her a convent house, she’d find her some kind of employment in the school, she’d get the convent to book her into a rehab unit, she’d ask Julius if he could find her something in London, away from all this, away from her dealer or pimp or whoever he was. In her mind she had rescued Lianna, had seen her start a new, clean life, before she realised that there was nothing she could do for Lianna. Nothing at all.
Patricia was sitting in Nina’s office, dabbing at her face with a handkerchief. ‘And I don’t even know where he is now,’ she was saying to Nina. She looked up as Agnes came into the room. ‘Nina says you know that girl?’
‘Yes. Lianna Vickers. She lives on the estate.’
‘Do you think Anthony really made her those promises?’
‘Do you?’
Patricia looked at Agnes, looked down at her hands which were screwing the handkerchief into a ball. ‘I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t know my husband at all.’
‘He’s been gambling,’ Nina said, bringing Agnes a mug of coffee.
‘I wouldn’t mind that so much,’ Patricia said, tearful again, ‘if it wasn’t for — for ... and to treat my father like that, to abuse his trust ... ’ She started to cry again.
Agnes glanced at Nina. ‘Anthony’s borrowed heavily on the back of the mill,’ Nina said.
‘I opened a letter yesterday,’ Patricia said, between sobs, ‘because it said P. Turnbull, but it was meant for him, they’d got the initial wrong. It was a final demand for tax on his other company. It’s thousands. He hasn’t got it. He’s gambled it away. I went to his office then, he has a room in the house, and went through the desk. There’s bills there, unopened, bank statements, VAT stuff — it’s terrifying. I have nothing, it turns out. He’s spent it all under me. It’s like finding that I don’t have a husband at all, why didn’t he tell me, he could have confided in me, I’d have helped him ... ’
Nina went to her and put her arm round her. ‘You have the mill.’
‘For all I know he’s sold it too.’
‘He can’t sell it without you, can he?’
‘I’ve signed all sorts of documents recently, I keep thinking, what if there was some small print, something I overlooked ... it’s like having a stranger as a husband, he’s so — he’s so different, the Anthony I married was so generous and funny and full of life ... and this one’s just — he seems so detached now, so panicky, and I haven’t seen him for two days now ... ’
‘It’ll be all right,’ Nina said, gently.
‘But Andrew said -Andrew McInnes, he’s our solicitor. We went to sign a deed thing about Jo and Marcus, a few weeks ago, Daddy and me and Anthony. Oh, Daddy’s such a fool. Such a stupid old man. Fancy trusting that pillock of a husband of mine ... the only person who can run this place is Daddy, or family. True family. And he’s signed Marcus out of it, and he tried to sign Jo out of it too. I’m such a stupid stupid bloody fool ... ’ She started to cry again.
‘He can’t sell it,’ Nina said, then glanced at Agnes.
‘How can you be so sure?’ Patricia said.
Nina took a deep breath. ‘Because Agnes found an old document that your father had hidden up the chimney.’
‘Found a what?’
‘It may not mean anything,’ Agnes said.
‘That my father had — what is it?’
‘It’s about a trust — ’
‘It may be very dangerous,’ Agnes interrupted Nina.
‘But what? Why would he?’
‘If you don’t mind,’ Agnes said, ‘I think we should talk to your father about it, before we do anything else. I’ll tell you more then.’
Patricia looked from one to the other with tearful, mascara-smeared eyes.
She nodded. ‘This evening, then? I’ll phone him, I’ll let him know we’re coming.’
*
The school was on the edge of hysteria, with girls packing bags, endless streams of taxis and luggage and last-minute panics. Agnes found Charlotte in her room. On her bed was a large, expensive suitcase. It contained some neatly folded underwear and a couple of books. Charlotte was staring at it vaguely, and looked up when Agnes put her head round the door.
‘Packing?’
‘Sort of.’
‘When are you going?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘It’ll be nice to see your parents.’
‘Perhaps.’ Charlotte folded a T-shirt and put it in the case.
‘You can get some perspective on things.’
‘But they don’t know, do they? I’ve played it down to them, and now they’ll be expecting to see me get on with my life like it was nothing at all, as if Mark meant nothing at all ... at least here people know how much he meant to me, I can talk about it here ... ’ She sat down on her bed.
Agnes put the suitcase on the floor and sat down next to her. ‘You can always phone me here if you need to talk.’
‘Will you be here?’
‘Sure. I’m not going anywhere.’
*
Patricia pushed open the main gate, and was greeted by the dogs, who quietened instantly on seeing her and sniffed around Agnes instead. Agnes followed Patricia through the open back door, the darkened porch she’d last visited with Elias.
‘Daddy?’
‘Ah, there you are.’ A light came on in the hall and William Baines was standing there. He was wearing a shabby jacket and crumpled trousers, and his hair was dishevelled.
‘You remember Agnes, don’t you?’ Patricia began. ‘You work with my other daughter, don’t you?’ Baines was staring at her.
‘That’s right. Before she left.’
Baines shook his head and with a shuffling gait led them into the drawing room.
‘She left,’ he echoed. He knelt in front of the gas fire and lit it, then switched on an ornate lamp that stood by the hearth, but the room still seemed dingy and chilled. He stood by the hearth, leaning against the heavy mahogany fireplace. ‘She said she had to go. But it was my fault.’
‘Daddy, perhaps Agnes would like — ’
‘Patricia knows, don’t you? It was my fault she went. Everyone knows. Everyone can see that now. I can see that now. But I couldn’t see it then.’
‘Daddy — ’
‘I have been blind.’
‘Please, Daddy ... ’
‘I tried to make her — ’
‘Sherry?’ Patricia said brightly, getting up. ‘Or perhaps you’d prefer — ’
‘I tried to make her into something she co
uldn’t be. She means so much to me, she was so precious to us, to Hannah ... ’ Uttering his wife’s name seemed to weary him, and he sat heavily into a chair.
‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ Patricia stood, helpless, her fixed smile fading as she looked at her father.
‘I’ll help you,’ Agnes said, taking Patricia’s arm and leading her from the room.
In the kitchen, Agnes said, ‘Do you think we should tell him we found the document?’
‘I don’t know. He seems so — so fragile ... ’ Patricia blinked back tears. ‘Does he need to know?’
‘I need to ask him if it’s still valid.’
‘Andrew can tell you that, our solicitor.’
‘Perhaps that’s best. I’m worried that if we tell your father now, he might think that you’ll — ’
‘That I’ll tell Anthony — that I’ll betray him?’
‘It sounds awful.’
Patricia shook her head. ‘It’s all such a mess, I just don’t know what to do. The idea that Nina — and David — it’s so hard to take it all in. And I suppose it’s Anthony that he was hiding it from.’
‘It must be.’
‘Let’s not say anything now, he seems so upset, and what with Mother’s anniversary ... ’
Baines was sitting exactly as they’d left him. He was staring at the floor.
‘We thought we’d have sherry instead,’ Patricia trilled, pouring two very large glassfuls and handing one to Agnes. ‘Do you want anything, Daddy?’
He looked up, and smiled at her. ‘I have one daughter,’ he said. He turned his head slowly to face Agnes. ‘I still have one daughter.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘The number you have called is not available. Please try again later.’ Agnes switched off her phone, wondering how much longer David was going to stay out of reach. Not knowing where he was made her anxious. Perhaps I’ll ask Janet Cole if she’s heard from him, she thought, going into the shower, reaching for her Givenchy shower gel. Or maybe I’ll get his address from Nina and go and call on him. Or maybe he’s up in the hut on the moors, with Joanna, hiding.
A Dark and Sinful Death Page 24