by Lulu Taylor
He shrugged. ‘Things. Destructive elements. It’s no surprise to me that he was attempting to scale higher than he was supposed to, and in doing that, he brought his edifice toppling down.’ He thought for a moment and then said, ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the car crash were not entirely an accident.’
Emily froze, a nasty shiver shooting down her spine. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that karmically perhaps it needed to happen. To release you all from the path he was taking you down.’
‘Oh.’ She was relieved that Tom was so far from the truth. It felt more important than ever that no one knew what Will had done. What was the point now? He was more dead than alive. But more than that, once people knew that he was prepared to kill her and abandon the children . . . well, then they would ask other questions and she couldn’t bear to face the answers. ‘Do you mean it was all for a purpose?’
Tom nodded. ‘Maybe. The universe has ways of working things out.’
She looked at him, wondering. He’d always been attracted to the esoteric side of life but he hadn’t ever spelt out what it was he believed. She remembered the odd outburst of a while ago, when he’d talked about the world powers and their desire to crush humankind, and realised suddenly that despite her closeness to her brother, she really had no idea of how he viewed the world.
‘So if the house is being sold, where are you going to go?’ Tom looked worried. ‘I wish I could ask you to live with me but it’s just not possible . . .’
‘Of course not. We need our own place. Once the house is sold I’ll know more about what my options are.’ Emily smiled at him. ‘I’ll work it out somehow. Don’t you worry.’
‘I’ll pray for you,’ Tom said earnestly.
She looked away, her skin prickling suddenly. She’d never heard him say anything like that before.
As she hobbled back from the bus stop, getting used to the walking stick, she thought longingly of a cup of tea in the quiet house. Polly had the children for the afternoon, and it would give her a chance to tidy up a little bit for the open day on Saturday. Loxley’s had told her that there were seventeen appointments lined up already. They were full of enthusiasm and had bolstered her hopes that she might be able to sell in time.
As she neared the house, she frowned. A familiar-looking blue car was parked just outside, and as she watched, the car door opened. Diana got out, slammed the door shut behind her and stalked towards her, her face full of an anger that Emily had never seen before.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ she shouted. She gestured towards the For Sale board outside the house. ‘What’s going on? You’ve got some explaining to do, young lady!’
Emily stopped and sighed. ‘You’d better come in, Diana.’
Her mother-in-law came close, her hands shaking with rage. As usual she looked immaculate, in dark trousers, a pale pink jumper and puffy blue gilet over the top. Her white hair was set in tidy curls. It was odd to see someone so neat looking so furious. ‘Don’t you . . . don’t you give me any lies! What’s going on, why is the house for sale?’
‘Come in,’ Emily repeated. ‘I’ll explain inside. I don’t want a shouting match on the street.’
Diana followed her into the house, breathing heavily. She and Emily had always had a good relationship, with apparent mutual affection, civil if not exactly intimate. Emily knew that she could never have measured up to whatever ideal Diana had wanted for Will, and she appreciated that Diana did her best to hide this and to be kind and welcoming. There were always thoughtful gifts and gestures, little notes and flowers sent, a keen interest taken in Emily’s life. The arrival of Carrie and Joe had marked a new closeness between them; Diana took huge pleasure in her grandchildren and admired Emily’s capabilities as a mother. Besides, everything was proceeding very nicely: her son and his wife settled with two beautiful children, a girl and a boy, with Will providing a comfortable life while Emily ran the home. There was nothing to unsettle the waters. But Emily had sensed that this was a phoney peace, and that if Diana ever had to choose sides, she would not hesitate to turn on her mercilessly.
In the hall, Diana threw her keys onto the table and said, ‘Explain at once.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Emily said. So much for noticing that my plaster is gone and that I’m using a stick. She hasn’t even seen that my bandage is off She really doesn’t give a shit.
‘No, I wouldn’t! What I want is an explanation for why you are pulling Will’s life down around his ears, when he’s not here to stop you!’ Diana’s eyes glittered with rage. They reminded Emily of the way that Will’s grew hard and bright when he was angry. She could see that this had been building and now Diana was relishing the excuse to release some of her resentment. ‘Some wife you’ve been to him! He’s lying in the hospital, desperately trying to get better, and you won’t so much as visit him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed – you never go to him. You’ve never taken his children to see him – the children he worships! Their voices, their touch . . . he must be longing for them, and they might have the power to help him recover. But oh no. No! You won’t hear of it! You’d rather that crazy brother of yours looks after them than take them to see their own father. Goodness knows what the poor little mites are making of all this. I don’t doubt you’re traumatising them for life by denying them access to their father. You might have told them he’s dead for all I know!’
Diana stood there, panting, as she reached the end of her outburst.
Emily stared at her, her heart pounding hard. It was exactly what she’d expected but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. The injustice of it wounded her even while part of her dismissed it as the ravings of a woman who was utterly unable to accept the truth about her supposedly perfect son. She’d raised him practically alone; he was her world and her purpose. No doubt she was in deep grief for the loss of the one human being she truly adored. But even before the accident, she’d always refused to accept that Will was in any way flawed. If there were problems, it was Emily’s fault. Will was always excused.
Emily longed to tell her the truth, to rip through her illusions and bring them crashing down. She wanted to tell her that Will was no better than a conman and murderer, to lay out in clear, excruciating detail how he had tried to kill them both.
But what’s the point? She will never believe me. She couldn’t. It would probably kill her. Then her death would lie at Will’s door too.
She closed her eyes so that she could let Diana’s anger simply wash over her and drift away. She didn’t want it to affect her. She knew what her role was now: to get the children somewhere safe so they could all start their lives anew. She wasn’t going to let her mother-in-law’s hysteria stand in her way.
Seeing Emily close her eyes spurred Diana’s anger back to life. ‘Don’t you ignore me, young lady! What have you got to say for yourself? Well? I demand you answer me!’
Emily opened her eyes. She felt curiously powerful. The knowledge of Will’s true character seemed to give her a strength and a mastery over Diana that helped her stay calm in the face of all this rage. She looked down at the hall table and saw the day’s post had come. On the top was a white envelope franked with the name of a firm of solicitors. Oh God. What now? She picked it up, then looked at Diana. ‘Let’s not get carried away. If you don’t want any tea, we’ll go and sit down and I’ll explain.’
‘Thank you. Because if you think I’m going to let you desert Will, you’ve got another think coming.’
Emily led the way to the sitting room and sat in the chair opposite the sofa. She lay the solicitors’ letter on the arm of the chair, wondering what nasty surprises it contained. Her secret fear was that Will had done something illegal, or was somehow implicated in Vlady’s schemes, and that, by extension, she was as well. She was dreading the knock on the door and the appearance of policemen asking her to accompany them to the station, or whatever it was they said. She touched the surface of the letter while Diana went to the sofa and
perched herself on the edge of it, as though ready to fly up at an instant’s notice.
‘Well?’ her mother-in-law demanded.
Emily took a deep breath. ‘This isn’t going to be easy for you to hear, Diana.’
‘You want to desert Will,’ Diana said shrilly. ‘You want to divorce him now he’s no good to you. He needs your help and he can’t supply the living you want any more, so you’re leaving.’
Emily held up her hand. ‘You’re going to have to let me talk without interrupting me. Of course I don’t intend to divorce Will’ – yet, said a voice in her head – ‘but I have to sell the house. Luckily I’m able to do that without his consent. Will and I granted each other power of attorney, at his request. I thought it was in case we found ourselves in exactly this type of situation; in fact, it was for another reason entirely.’
‘Oh? What?’ snapped Diana.
‘He needed power of attorney so that he could empty our bank accounts and access my savings without my written consent.’
There was a pause. Diana frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘Like I said, this won’t be easy, but you need to know that Will has virtually bankrupted us. He risked everything we had – without telling me – on a punt recommended by his boss. I’m afraid it didn’t come off. The hedge fund itself has lost everything and so have we. That’s why I have to sell the house. If I don’t, it will be repossessed within two months and Will and I will most certainly be declared bankrupt.’
Diana stared at her, taking this in. She seemed to gulp several times, like a fish out of water. ‘It can’t be true . . . you’re making it up!’
‘I wish I were. I’ve got all the paperwork that I can show you if you don’t believe me. I don’t have a choice, I have to sell. As it is, I have no idea how the children and I are going to cope.’
She watched Diana’s reaction with a mixture of pity and interest. So many emotions flitted across her face as she absorbed Emily’s words. When she spoke again, her voice was stammering and softer. ‘I . . . I don’t understand how . . . how he could do this . . .’ She stared at the gnarled hands clenched in her lap and then looked up again, her eyes moist. ‘He really did that? Took it all? . . . Lost it?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’
She frowned with the pain of accepting it, her soft skin creasing into dozens of lines like crumpled tissue paper. ‘Oh my goodness. Oh Will.’
‘I’m sorry, Diana. I didn’t want to have to break it to you, but you had to know.’
‘My poor, poor boy. What he must have suffered,’ she said in a low voice. ‘He must have been tormented by it. If only he’d come to me. He could have talked to me, I would have listened.’
Emily felt her heart harden. All she cares about is Will. She’s got no thought for me and the children, for what we’re going through.
Just then, Diana looked up at her, her eyes flinty again. ‘If you intend to ask me for money, I have to tell you that there’s very little. I have the house and I have my pension but that’s all. I have nothing else to spare.’
You selfish, horrible old woman, Emily thought, scorn swelling inside her. It’s because you’re like this that Will has turned out to be such a disaster. You never criticised him, never told him that he was being an arrogant bastard. All you’ve ever cared about is you and him. ‘I don’t want your money, thank you. I had my own, the money my parents left me, but unfortunately Will stole that and threw it away. I’ll take what’s left from the house and consider it mine to do what I want with, to provide for the children.’
‘I shall consult a lawyer in Will’s interests,’ Diana shot back.
‘My God.’ Emily shook her head in amazement. ‘You really are the limit. You can’t take it in, can you? Will has destroyed everything. I’m trying to get what I can from the wreckage in order to provide for your grandchildren, don’t you understand that? And incidentally, it was while Will was telling me this that the car went off the road.’ She fixed Diana with a stare, as if to challenge her to take what she wanted from that.
There was a pause, and then Diana rose to her feet, looking majestically enraged. ‘So it was you,’ she said heavily.
‘Me?’
‘You caused the crash. I can see it now. You must have become hysterical. He must have lost control because of you. It’s because of you that he’s lying there half dead. That’s why you can’t face him, isn’t it? You’re too afraid to look at what you’ve done. And now you’re going to try and blame Will for all of it. Well, I won’t have it, do you hear? You’ll have me to contend with. I always thought you had problems, and now I know for sure.’
Emily stared at her, stunned, as Diana made her way towards the door. Her mother-in-law turned to look at her with a haughty stare.
‘I shall give instructions that you’re not to be allowed to see Will again.’
Emily drew in a breath at her audacity and laughed hollowly. ‘I’m his next of kin actually, Diana, so you might have a problem with that.’
‘Your malicious laughter is exactly what I would expect,’ Diana said loftily. ‘I shall protect him. My precious boy has only me now.’
‘And that’s just the way you like it!’ Emily called, as Diana made her way out to the hall. ‘I hope you’ll both be very happy!’
The front door slammed. There was a moment of silence and then Emily began to laugh. Soon she was giggling so hard, tears were rolling down her cheeks. The image of Diana, with her ridiculous maternal pride, standing guard over her comatose son was too much. They deserved each other.
As the laughter died away, she caught her breath and noticed the letter on the armchair. She picked it up, slipped her finger under the flap and opened it. The letter inside was typed on thick headed paper. She unfolded it and began to read.
Dear Mrs Conway
We have been instructed to deal with the estate of the late Mrs Catherine Few, who passed away last month. She has included a bequest to you in her will and we would like to arrange an appointment to discuss matters pertaining to this.
We would be most grateful if you could contact us at your earliest convenience and look forward to seeing you soon.
Yours sincerely . . .
She dropped the letter onto her lap and stared unseeingly out into the sitting room.
‘Oh my,’ she said to the empty room. ‘What now?’
Chapter Ten
When Cressie returned to the flat in Blackheath for the first sitting, Catherine greeted her like an old friend, kissing her warmly on both cheeks.
‘We’re excited!’ she said as she led Cressie down to the studio. ‘We can’t wait to get started. Did you bring some clothes we can look at?’
‘Right here.’ Cressie held up the leather travelling bag. She’d come dressed more simply this time, in a mustard wool skirt and cream jumper. Catherine had told her not to wear make-up – ‘Ralph needs to see your face as it is, and anyway, you don’t need it,’ she had said. Cressie added, ‘I put a selection of things in so you can help me choose.’
‘What fun!’ Catherine clapped her hands. ‘Let’s unpack and take a look. Take it into the studio. I’ll be there in a moment.’
Cressie went down the corridor, surprised to feel so at home. But this was her third visit and the little flat was now familiar. Catherine’s friendly welcome comforted her in a way she’d not known she needed, and her suspicions of the Fews’ motives now seemed mean-spirited. They appeared to like her and she felt suddenly hungry for their affection. It’s silly, really. I’ve got plenty of friends. I don’t need more. But the truth was, she was something of a loner. For so long, she’d been living in the atmosphere of an invalid’s convalescent home, keeping company with her mother and supporting her through the difficult periods of her illness. The house was a place where quiet must be kept and where there was the constant anticipation of a crisis for her mother, or an outburst of temper by her father. Everybody’s nerves were always strained. Her brothers had long since moved out an
d only returned for occasional visits, when their voices, loud in the quiet house, and looming presences had seemed jarring and disturbing. Cressida had become accustomed to being either with her mother or in the sanctuary of her room. Perhaps it was her recent experiences at the school that had made her so hungry for the friendship Catherine seemed to be offering her. She’d never experienced outright hostility before, such as she now did from her fellow teachers. The warmth she felt from Catherine was a counterbalance to it, reassuring her that she was likeable.
She went into the studio. Ralph was there, dressed in his dark trousers and paint-stained shoes and jumper. He was staring at the blank canvas he’d placed on the easel, but turned as she came in and pushed the dark forelock out of his eyes with the now familiar gesture.
He smiled. ‘Hello. It’s delightful to see you.’ In two strides he was next to her, his hands on her arms as he dropped a kiss on her cheek and said in a quiet voice, ‘Did you get my letter?’
Her breathing quickened despite herself. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘I meant it. I hope you know that.’ Then he turned to indicate the corner of the room by the window where a chair had been positioned, angled so that it faced out of the studio and over the garden. A piece of light blue cloth had been pinned up on the wall behind it. ‘I thought you might like a view to look at while you’re being painted. You won’t have much else to do.’
‘Thank you. I’ll enjoy that. I love looking at the church.’
‘It’s a beauty, isn’t it?’
Catherine came into the studio. ‘I’ve put the kettle on, and in your honour I made some scones so I hope you’re hungry. Now, where’s that bag? I’m dying to see what’s inside.’ Cressie handed it to her and she took it with an admiring cry. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful! What a gorgeous bag. And it’s monogrammed too.’ She glanced up at Cressie with an amused look in her grey eyes. ‘Well, well. We have the same initials. Look.’ She pointed at the gold letters stamped into the dark leather. ‘CEF. What’s your middle name?’