False Pride

by Veronica Heley

  He was silent as the train trundled through station after station. Finally he said, ‘Lucas is not going to enjoy being the titular head of the family, is he? My guess is that he’ll settle down to look after them for a while and then find someone like Kent to do the nitty-gritty for him.’

  She nodded, checking her watch. Were they going to make it in time?

  He said, ‘Little Miss Sugar and Spice is in her element, isn’t she? Do you think Lucas is beginning to realize how lucky he is to have her? She’s every old man’s dream. Someone to look after him in his old age.’

  Bea shook with laughter. ‘Her name is “Magda”.’

  He repeated, ‘She reminds me of a duvet. All warm and soft. She will feed him and pander to his every whim. Do you think he’s too self-centred to have thought of bedding her? Or has the counselling turned his thoughts in a different direction?’

  ‘I’m not listening,’ said Bea. Although, of course, she was. And smiling.

  ‘Mrs Tarring, on the other hand, is an enigma. I can’t read her. Can you?’

  ‘I am beginning to think she’s protecting someone else in the family. But I can’t think why.’

  ‘Oh, I can think why. At least … ah, this is where we get off.’

  They made it to the ticket office just in time.

  Bea saw Bernice from way off; a stiff little figure exuding a force field. Bernice did not want to be in her present company, did she? A dumpy woman with a couple of unruly small children in tow was standing next to her, fussing with something in her handbag, while her husband – fleshy and pompous – had his smartphone out while double-checking the time by his wristwatch.

  Bea swooped on Bernice to give her a hug. The child was rigid in her arms, not giving an inch. ‘Bernice! Are you all right?’

  ‘Mrs Abbot, I presume?’ The man was annoyed. ‘You are one minute late.’

  ‘Apologies. The trains—’

  ‘This whole affair has caused us to miss our connection—’

  His wife broke in, ‘No, it hasn’t, Henry. You said it would be better to wait for—’

  ‘Enough.’ The man turned to Piers, who was hovering. ‘And who is this?’

  Bea started to say, ‘This is my—’

  Bernice interrupted. ‘He’s her first husband. He’s a painter, supposed to be quite good. If you like that sort of thing.’ The insult was intentional.

  Piers grinned. ‘Touché, my girl. Luckily for you, I don’t paint children.’

  Bea suppressed an urge to bang both their heads together. She said, ‘Now, Bernice, thank the kind lady and gentlemen for looking after you so well, and we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Bernice, biting the words off. ‘It was kind of you, even though I could have managed perfectly well without you.’

  Bernice was in a snit, wasn’t she! Bea decided to ignore it for the time being. They could hardly deal with whatever-it-was on the station platform. She thanked the man and his wife profusely. ‘You have been so good. I really appreciate it. Come, Bernice; let’s get home. The Tube station is this way.’

  Bernice hung back. ‘Didn’t you bring a car?’

  ‘No. Gridlock in the streets. It was quicker by Tube.’

  Bernice’s frown said it all. Peasants! I’m worth more than this!

  Bea grasped Bernice’s shoulder and, with Piers on her heels, walked her down to the Tube. Bea tried to explain. ‘Bernice, we must talk, later. In the meantime you must know that a lot has happened at home this weekend. One of the agency clients found herself involved in a family dispute and has taken refuge with us.’

  Bernice managed a complicated shrug. What did she care about that! She didn’t look at Piers, but when they had got onto the train and found seats, she said, ‘Why is he hanging around?’

  ‘Piers. His name is Piers, as you very well know. Our client was in his studio when everything went haywire. A visitor was killed in his hallway, he was assaulted, and then the violence moved into our house. Piers has been helping me work out what’s going on. I don’t want you involved in any way. Somehow or other I’ll have to get you back to school this evening.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going back to that school. It’s boring. I need better teaching. I’ve decided I’m going to live at home and go to day school.’

  Bea closed her eyes. This was not good news. Even if the child were right in thinking she could do better at a different school – and she’d chosen this school herself because the maths teaching was exceptional – her decision raised all sorts of problems. What other school would take her in the middle of the spring term? And did Bea really want to have the child around twenty-four seven? Oh, dear! She said, ‘What about Alicia? Isn’t she your best friend? Doesn’t she need you?’

  ‘Alicia’s stupid. All she thinks about is boys.’

  Oh? Puberty has struck there, has it? But not yet for Bernice?

  Bernice said, ‘You don’t need Piers any more, now. I’m back for good.’

  EIGHTEEN

  Sunday afternoon

  ‘Drat!’ said Piers, taking this in his stride. ‘I’m being turned down by a pre-teen! I must be losing my touch.’

  Bea said, ‘That was very rude, Bernice. Also, wrong! We must have a proper discussion about your future, but not like this. I’m not happy about having you at home while I have another guest who’s in trouble. Perhaps you could go to your mother’s tonight? She’s been ringing me, worried about you. I’ll phone the school to say you’ll not be back tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll sit down and work out what’s best to be done.’

  ‘I’m not going to their house. They want me to sleep in the same room as Bro. He wakes up in the night and wants to play.’

  Bea could feel Piers’s amusement at this turn of events. She didn’t feel amused, herself. She held back some sharp words. Bernice was clearly deeply upset. It was probably something as world-shattering as a tiff with her best friend. But, whatever it was, it must be treated with the seriousness Bea would afford to an adult’s problem. She said, ‘We can’t talk now. We’ll make some phone calls when we get back and find time to talk this evening.’

  She made mental notes; she must ring the child’s mother, and William Morton – who ought never to have let the child out of his sight – and perhaps Alicia, too? And the school. Would the house be clear of guests by now? What was really going on in the Rycroft family?

  They got off the train. Bernice stalked ahead of them, back rigid.

  Piers said, ‘Do I come with you?’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  He nodded.

  She said, ‘Thanks. I could do with some moral support. Let’s hope the house is empty of our tiresome guests by the time we get back.’

  And in fact, it was. Bea hadn’t set the alarm when she left, so that didn’t sound off when she let them back into the house. That was to be expected. But there was no sound of voices to greet her return either.

  Bernice stomped up the stairs without looking back. ‘I’m going up to my room for some peace and quiet!’

  Piers watched her, shaking his head. ‘Twelve years old, going on twenty-five.’

  ‘Mm.’ Bea went into the living room, taking out her phone to start ringing people. First she must ring Bernice’s mother, to reassure her … but what was this? There was an absence of guests, but a chair had been overturned and a cushion had been placed on the floor and left there.

  Her call to Bernice’s mother went to voicemail, so Bea quickly left a message to say that Bernice had returned and that Bea would ring again later. She noted that two chairs that normally stood around the dining table had also been pushed awry, and a mug of coffee had spilt its contents on the mahogany, which was going to cause a nasty stain. It had dripped onto the carpet, too. Bother! She’d have to clear that up in a minute. First she must ring William … she pressed buttons. Again his phone went to voicemail, so she left another message to say Bernice was safe.

  And now what? She must ring the school to tell t
hem that Bernice would not be back tonight. And then have a chat with that little … girl … about her conduct. But first she must deal with the immediate problem. What had been going on in her absence?

  Piers stood in the doorway, hands on narrow hips. ‘This scene is evidence of something, though I don’t know what. An assault? No, I don’t think so. Do we ring the police and report our visitors missing? Have they been hoicked up into outer space? Do we care?’

  Bea shook her head. ‘That cushion. It looks as if someone lying on the floor had the cushion put under their head. See the indentation?’

  As one they turned to the kitchen. Nothing appeared to be out of place there, except that a cupboard door hung ajar. As did the back door. Bea knew she’d left it not only locked but bolted.

  ‘Someone’s in the garden?’ The door let onto a cast-iron balcony from which a staircase descended to the garden below. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the garden, and there was no sign of an intruder, except that a plant pot containing spring bulbs – which normally stood by the pool – had been knocked over and left on its side.

  She pointed. ‘Look!’ The door of the shed at the bottom of the garden was shut and a wrought-iron bench placed against it.

  ‘You stay here. Let me!’ Piers brushed past her and bounded down the stairs to the garden.

  Bea followed, more slowly. She was amused and annoyed that Piers should think a man should lead the way.

  Winston the cat appeared from nowhere, stretched fore and aft, and followed Piers down to the shed. Piers tried to see through the window. Winston leaped up onto the sill, and peered in, too.

  ‘Is anyone there?’

  Something or someone thumped; once, twice.

  Bea said, ‘Someone’s been locked in there? Watch it, Piers.’

  He bent to drag the bench away from the door. She helped him. He pulled the door open and vanished inside.

  Winston and Bea looked at one another and then peered in, too. It was dark inside.

  Piers was struggling to do something …

  Bea stepped inside. Someone had been tied to a garden chair with garden twine. He or she was making moaning noises. Piers wasn’t getting anywhere, trying to undo knots. Bea looked for something to help him … ah, a pair of kitchen scissors had been demoted to garden use some time ago, and now resided in a nearby plant pot. She passed them to Piers.

  The figure moaned. It had been gagged, too.

  Bea ripped out the gag and the woman spat, or tried to. Tried to speak, and failed.

  Piers got her upright but she couldn’t stand by herself. Again, she tried to speak. And failed. And winced. She was in pain from returning circulation.

  ‘Come out into the sunlight.’ Piers carried her out of the shed.

  She made protesting noises. He let her stand on her own two feet but she would have fallen if he hadn’t held her up.

  She lifted a wavering hand, pointed her forefinger at Piers and mimed someone fainting.

  ‘Someone came at you with a syringe?’ said Piers.

  Magda shook her head. And mimed the attack again.

  Bea shivered. ‘It’s a gun? No, a taser? Someone used a taser on her?’

  Magda nodded.

  Piers put Magda’s arm over his shoulder, and helped her up the garden path towards the house. The woman mewed with pain. Piers carried her up the stairs and into the kitchen where he put her on a stool, and began to rub her arms and legs to restore her circulation.

  Bea got Magda a glass of water, which she gulped down. Tears leaked from her eyes. She mouthed the words, without sound. ‘Taser! Take care!’

  ‘Indeed we will,’ said Bea. ‘Piers, how about double-locking the front door? We don’t want any unauthorized persons walking in on us, do we? Magda, do you think you can walk up and down for a bit to get your legs moving again?’

  Piers nodded, and disappeared.

  Magda clung on to the central unit and walked round and round it, groaning to herself. Her wrists and ankles had been rubbed raw, and there were red marks across her face where she’d been gagged. Apart from that, she seemed unharmed.

  Piers returned. ‘Do we yell for the cops?’

  ‘First we find out who did this. Magda, what happened?’

  Magda shook her head. Grabbed the water and drank again. ‘Man! Laughed!’

  ‘Lucas?’

  A violent shake of the head. Magda rested against a stool. Drank some more. Worked her mouth. ‘Never seen him before. Doorbell rang. Mrs Tarring let them in. Shirley came first. Cousin, right? And a strange man. Lucas said I was leaving. Shirley said “no”, that only I knew where the jewels were. Lucas said, “Not now, Shirley. That’s for another day.” He said the jewels were his responsibility and not hers. The man laughed. He’s … weird. Is he Shirley’s brother? But not quite right?’

  ‘His name is Hilary,’ said Bea, putting the kettle on and reaching for the aspirins. ‘So Shirley and Hilary came here looking for the jewels?’

  Magda wailed, ‘Why did Mrs Tarring let them in?’

  ‘Divided loyalties,’ said Bea.

  Magda mourned. ‘She’s worked for the Rycrofts for ever. She’s their trusted right-hand woman. Why would she throw all that away?’

  Bea shrugged. Why, indeed?

  Magda stretched arms and legs. She twiddled her hands and her feet. ‘Lucas tried to defuse the situation. He said they must all meet some time soon and have a good talk. But they, that man Hilary in particular, had something else in mind. He brought out this thing, it looked like a gun of some sort. I’ve never seen anything like it and I don’t think Lucas had, either. But Mrs Tarring knew what it was because she said, “No, Hilary, you mustn’t! This has gone far enough!” And do you know what he did? He turned on her, pressed it to her arm, her eyes rolled up and she fainted. Just like that!’

  Piers nodded. ‘A taser.’

  Magda said, ‘I thought she’d fainted. I got a cushion from the settee and put it under her head and straightened her skirt. All the while that man was laughing. Lucas stood still. I could tell he was thinking, hard. He almost closes his eyes when he does that. The girl, Shirley, she said to the man, her brother or whatever he is, “You shouldn’t have done that!” But she didn’t really mean it. She was smiling.’

  Piers said, ‘Then they turned it on you?’

  ‘Lucas tried to stop them. He looked straight at me, and said, very quietly, “Miss Summerleys” – and he’d been calling me “Magda” earlier, so I knew he wanted me to pretend he hadn’t been that friendly to me – “Miss Summerleys,” he said, “this game is not worth the candle. I don’t want anyone else hurt. I think it would be a good idea if you tell them where the jewels are.”’

  She moistened her lips again. ‘So that’s what I did. I told them how I’d hidden them in the studio under Lucas’s gown, and then brought them here. I said I’d put them in the garden shed behind some pots.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Piers. ‘You didn’t know—’

  ‘That they’d been moved. No. I led the way down to the garden and into the shed, but the pots were all over the place, and the cases were there, but empty. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Lucas gave me one keen look, and I know he wondered, just for a second, whether I’d double-crossed him, but then he realized I was as surprised as he was. And he nodded to me. He knew I wouldn’t. Mrs Abbot, do you know where they are?’

  ‘Yes. Piers and I hid them in a safe place, thinking someone might come after them. And they did, in the middle of the night. But didn’t find them.’

  Magda said, ‘Shirley screamed, “I told you they weren’t there!” She must have known someone had been here last night and found the boxes empty. She was furious. She demanded to know what I’d done with them. She turned to the man, her brother, and he lifted that gun thing towards me and I stood there with my mouth open, knowing he was going to taser me and that I couldn’t do a thing about it. That’s when Lucas said, “I know what she’s done with them! She took the jewels out of the case
s and hid them at the studio. Right, Miss Summerleys?”

  ‘I could see he was trying to gain time, to protect me, so I followed his lead. I said, “Yes, that’s right. When the twins came looking for them, I took them out of their boxes and hid them under your robe, and the twins searched the studio but they didn’t find the jewels, and when I left I was so scared that all I could think of doing was getting away before they returned. Only after I was on my way here I still had the boxes in your briefcase, but I’d left the jewels themselves on the artist’s stand.”

  ‘I was shaking. I didn’t dare to hope they’d believe me, but if Lucas thought it would buy us some time, I’d go along with that. Then someone called out from the head of the stairs up here and we all looked up. It was Mrs Tarring. She was very wobbly but she called down to us, “Where are you all? What’s happening? I must have come over all faint!” I don’t think she realized what had happened to her. She sounded so weak and unlike herself. Lucas called back, “We’re all going to go back to the studio, Mrs Tarring. Miss Summerleys was very clever and hid the jewels there.” Mrs Tarring nodded and went back inside.’

  Magda took another drink, rolling the liquid round her mouth.

  Bea said, ‘Why didn’t they take you with them when they went back to the studio?’

  ‘Lucas arranged that I should be left behind. He asked if Shirley had her car with her, or if should they take a cab. He said there was no need for everyone to go, and they could leave Mrs Tarring here with me. I suppose he thought Mrs Tarring would see sense and call the police, tell them about the taser. But that didn’t work. Shirley said she didn’t trust me, and her brother …’ Magda swallowed. ‘He held the gun thing up and pointed it at me again.

  ‘He said, “Bang!” Just like that. “Bang!” He put the gun to my neck. He was grinning. He likes hurting people, I think. I waited for him to fire it. I thought I’d faint. But Shirley said, “No, don’t use it on her yet, my dear. You can be a little too enthusiastic with that thing, remember? Let’s go and see if the gems are where she says they are, and if not … well, you can have a go at her later, right?”’