‘Don’t ask me to split theological hairs, I’m only your solicitor. All I know is that you have used your money so far to make a difference in lots of people’s lives. Giving little treats, setting that grandson of Mrs Dawes’ up in business, ensuring that little waitress had enough money for her world tour, helping your family and friends out of difficulties time and again. Ask yourself if you could continue to do good in those ways, if you give away the bulk of your money? Ask yourself if the church people aren’t being a trifle selfish themselves, expecting you to do for them what they should be doing for themselves? Stick to our original plan; tell them that they must apply to your trust fund. That should get you off the hook.’
‘I could still give them what they want and not bother with a trust fund?’
‘Yes, you could. You needn’t bother with a trust fund if you don’t wish, although as your husband’s executor I would strongly advise it.The money is yours, to give away or spend or keep. But if you spend it all on the church hall, there won’t be anything to spare for other charitable impulses, will there? What happens the next time you want to rescue someone in distress?’
Ellie pulled a face. Put like that …
‘A thought,’ said Bill. ‘Have you asked your old vicar about it? The one who moved to the other side of London? What’s his name? Nice chap, looks like a Lowry stick man, tall and thin, popular round here, great pity we lost him.’
‘Gilbert Adams. Yes, I could ask him. I will. Thanks, Bill. For everything.’
He glanced at the clock on his desk. ‘Keep in touch …?’
He kissed her cheek and showed her out.
It wasn’t raining for once.
Dear Rose was late, so Ellie went into the café and secured a table at the back. The new waitress brought the menu and looked sulky when Ellie said she would order when her friend came. Ellie found the two stamp magazines were still in her shopping basket. She really must remember to pop them through Armand’s letterbox on her way back.
She leafed through the first one, marvelling at the enormous number of categories of stamps to collect. At first glance, most of the selling seemed to be done through email orders.
One of these days she supposed she must be brave and get on the Internet and try email. Kate was always urging her to do so. And apparently Aunt Drusilla used it all the time. Amazing woman, Aunt Drusilla.
‘Am I late? Sorry.’ Rose had been crying. She slid into the seat beside Ellie and started disentangling herself from her coat.
‘Rose? Whatever’s the matter?’
‘Oh, nothing. Just a bit of a cold. Sorry to keep you waiting, but Madam called me in to the charity shop just after you rang and … oh dear! You’re bound to hear sooner or later. You know dear John, who was always so good at the charity shop, such great friends we three were, weren’t we? Well, you know that his wife Sue isn’t exactly, I don’t know how to put it …’
‘Is on medication to keep her stable?’ said Ellie, who’d had an unpleasant experience with Sue.
‘She tried to commit suicide last night.’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Nobody’s supposed to know, but of course you can’t keep a thing like that secret. John found her and took her to hospital and they pumped her out, but of course he couldn’t get into the shop this morning, so he rang Madam and told her that she’d have to do without him for maybe a couple of weeks and she went ballistic because we were short-handed, of course, always have been since you left us, dear Ellie. So she rang me to come in, which I did, and that’s when she told me she wanted me to do extra, but what with the wedding coming up and all …’
‘Of course.’
‘… so I suggested she tried to see if she could get you to come back, which she took very badly because as you know, dear, she’s always been jealous of you being so popular with the customers. She said … no, I’m not going to repeat what she said, but I’m afraid I lost my temper and said something rude and the long and the short of it is, that she told me to clear out and not come back.’
‘My dear Rose, that’s awful. The misery that woman causes.’
Rose sniffed, couldn’t find a tissue, so took a paper serviette from the table and blew into it. ‘It’s quite all right. I’ve been meaning to leave for ages, ever since you went. That woman is a – a – cockroach!’
The waitress was shoving a menu into Rose’s hand. Her attitude seemed to say that if old women chose to make an exhibition of themselves in public, then let them, but don’t expect her to show sympathy, because she had her work to do.
Ellie thought, How unlike her predecessor, who had taken an interest in her customers and was always ready with advice about what was best on the menu.
They ordered a steak-and-kidney pie each, with a pot of tea to follow.
‘Now dear Rose,’ said Ellie, making an effort to disengage herself from her own troubles. ‘I know there’s been something else upsetting you for quite a while. I’d have had it out of you long ago if I hadn’t got so tied up with Tod and his problems – and yes, he’s gone back to school today. He is better though not quite himself again yet. So tell me All.’
‘It’s all so silly, not worth complaining about, really …’
‘Rose!’
‘Well, then. You’ll smile, really. Such a tragedy it seems at the moment, though we’ll probably all laugh about it in future …’
‘Rose!’
‘All right. You know the wedding’s fixed for the end of next month. Nothing but the best for my daughter. She’d booked the golf club for the reception, with outside caterers and everything. Now they say they’ve double-booked and we’ve got to find somewhere else, but at this short notice … I’ve tried everything, the hotel by the tube station, the pubs … but of course my daughter doesn’t want a pub, but it’s the best I could do and well, she’s not best pleased.’
Ellie refused to let herself smile. Rose was a sweetie, but her daughter Joyce wasn’t. Joyce was almost as haughty and difficult as Diana. Ellie could well imagine how Diana would have reacted if her wedding reception arrangements had come unstuck.
Rose tackled her steak pie. ‘I’ve told myself – and her – that it will all be the same in a hundred years time, which was what our dear Gilbert used to tell us, didn’t he? Such good sermons he used to give us. Lively, but short. I do miss him still, I must say. Ah well. Joyce can’t sulk for ever, I tell myself.’
Ellie didn’t share her friend’s optimism. Joyce could hold a grudge longer than anyone else she knew. ‘I feel for you.’
‘Think nothing of it. The pub’s all right in its way and beggars can’t be choosers. Anyway, how are you getting on with Gus? I’ve been meaning to say that I think you were very brave there and that you did the right thing, even if it did cause a lot of gossip.’
‘He’s gone.’
Rose stared at her.
‘With some bits and pieces of jewellery and silver. There was some graffiti, some damage done to the garden. He took fright and scarpered. I don’t really blame him.’
‘Oh, the poor creature!’ said Rose. ‘I don’t blame him, either. If he’s heard half the things people have been saying behind his back … Are your potatoes all right? Mine don’t seem to be quite cooked. I don’t like to make a fuss, because the food here is usually so good …’
Rose took a gulp of tea, coughed, choked. Used another paper serviette. Looked Ellie in the eye.
‘It’s none of my business what you do with your money but I want to say, just once and then we’ll forget all about it, that I don’t like the way they’ve got all that money out of you for the church hall.’
Fourteen
E
llie pushed her own plate away. The pie was tasteless and the vegetables overcooked except for the potatoes, which were raw. Perhaps it was the cook’s day off? Ellie poured tea for them both. Rose had gone crimson. ‘I’m not on the church council. How could I
be? Not clever or anything. But I can go to the meetings though I
can’t
vote.’
‘So you were there when Timothy suggested I pay for the church hall?’ ‘It wasn’t his idea. It was Archie’s.You know? Our church treasurer, who
was so keen on you and you kept refusing to go out with him. I don’t
blame you, mind. I knew his wife, poor dear, and it was no wonder she
ran off with someone else, more power to her elbow, I say. I wouldn’t like
him pawing me about, either.’
‘I had heard that Archie suggested it but I don’t know why.’ ‘A woman scorned, dear. Or rather a man scorned. You wouldn’t give
him the time of day and then you started seeing Roy, who seems perfectly
nice to me, but there’s no denying there’s some talk even though he’s
your husband’s cousin. So a couple of weeks ago Archie started seeing
this pretty little blonde thing, only she’s neither true blonde nor as young
as she’d like to pretend. It turns out he met her chatting on the Internet.’ ‘In a chatroom?’
‘Is that what they call it? Anyway, she’s got pound signs in both eyes
and a liking for gin. Short-sighted as well, though she wouldn’t dream of
spoiling her looks by wearing spectacles and her contact lenses keep
dropping out … well, we all have our little problems, don’t we? She’s got
her hooks into Archie so firmly that he takes her everywhere. My guess is
that’s why he started being bitchy about you. Showing off, I suppose.
Trying to make out he ditched you because …’
‘It makes him feel better?’
‘At the church council, they were worrying away about rebuilding the
hall and Archie said Frank had left you over three million pounds …’ ‘What? But that’s not true.’
‘That’s what he said. He also said that Frank had promised him a very
large donation for the rebuild. At least a million. Everyone was most
surprised and impressed.’
‘Yes, they would be. How dare he!’
‘Archie said that as you’d undoubtedly want to honour your husband’s
promise, we should name the hall after him.’
‘Archie is a spiteful little …’
‘Yes, but clever with it. Everyone believed him. I did, too, at first. Then I
got to thinking and I remembered that one day you’d told me how much
Frank was leaving the church in his will. Five hundred, wasn’t it? Also, if
you’d had three million, I don’t suppose you’d still be wearing that old
jacket.’
‘So that’s how it all started.’
The new waitress totalled their bill, ripped it off and slapped it down on
the table in front of Ellie. ‘If you’ve quite finished, I’m waiting to clear.’ Ellie paid and added only a small tip.
They stood outside the café, trying to work out whether or not it was going to rain again. Rose said, ‘Sorry I moaned. You’ve got enough on your plate without that.’
‘I’m glad you did. That meal wasn’t very good, was it? Would you like to come over for supper? Maybe we can think of somewhere better than a pub for the wedding reception.’
‘I’d love to, if it’s not too much trouble. I’ll bring something from the bakery for a sweet, shall I?’
‘Delicious. By the way, Rose; did you ever collect stamps?’
‘My father did, but his collection went when our house got bombed in the war. Ah me, how long ago that seems. I used to help separate the little stamp hinges for him. Do you remember stamp hinges? Do they still use them, or have they something very clever instead?’
‘Where did he get his stamps?’
‘There was a shop here in the Avenue where the sandwich bar is now. He used to correspond with people all over the world. It was exciting, looking through the post for a foreign stamp. We got a prefab after we were bombed but he was never the same after that. He said he couldn’t breathe in those small rooms and he died soon after. My mother liked the prefab, though. Do you remember prefabs? They pulled them all down when they built the flats and we moved into one of them. I liked it at first, so high up in the air, seeing everything, with nice neighbours. I’d still like it if … ah well, young people will play their music too loudly, in my opinion they’re all deaf. About half past five, then?’
‘Lovely. Here’s some money for a taxi. You mustn’t walk if it’s raining.’ ‘I can manage, dear. You know I can.’
‘Take it just in case.’
As Ellie did a little shopping in the Lane and walked home she reflected that Bill had had a point. Sometimes being able to give someone even a few pounds could make all the difference to their quality of life. The thought of Rose trying to struggle with an umbrella, her handbag and a box of goodies from the cake shop made Ellie shake her head and sigh, and then laugh. Dear Rose got through more umbrellas than anyone Ellie knew. Either they turned inside out on her or someone would bang into her with their umbrella and hers would be ripped open. Or she’d forget it and arrive drenched to the skin.
Rose’s friends always worried about her in bad weather. Giving her the taxi fare was the easiest solution.
And Rose appreciated it.
Ellie turned the corner and halted. Retraced her steps to the corner. The name of this street rang a bell. Wasn’t it here that one of the stamp collectors lived? What was his name? Ellie got out her list. Yes, there it was.
Logan, number five. That was two houses along. Mr Logan wouldn’t be at home now, would he? Early afternoon, Thursday. But Mr Pearsall had been at home and this man might be retired, too.
She forced herself to walk along. The houses here were largish, probably four-bedroomed, semi-detached but with small gardens. Number five had children’s stickers on the inside of the windows and the curtains upstairs were half drawn. The garden was a bit of a wreck, a double pushchair was half tipped over in the porch, and Ellie fancied there was an air of quiet desperation about the place.
Ellie pressed the doorbell and waited. She used the door knocker, thinking that she’d give it one minute and then leave. A woman in her thirties opened the door, a sleepy toddler in her arms. The woman looked worn out. Behind her was a muddle of coats, jackets, toys and tricycles. Ellie took a step back.
‘Yes?’ The woman swept hair off her forehead. Her fringe needed cutting.
‘Mrs Logan? Is your husband in, by any chance?’
‘He’ll be back just after seven. Wait a minute; don’t I know you from somewhere? Didn’t you used to work in the charity shop? That’s right, you know my mother, don’t you? Sonia? Helps out in the shop now and then?’
A rhythmic banging from the rear of the house was interrupted by howls of outrage and a cry of pain. The woman was distracted, trying to be in two places at once. ‘I’m afraid I must … the twins are … come in, do.’ She was leading the way to the back of the house, to a kitchen-cumplayroom. ‘Rory, stop that! Emma, how many times have I told you not to hit him …?’
Ellie whisked herself into the hall. ‘Just for a moment, then.’
A howl interrupted them from upstairs. That made three children yelling.
Mrs Logan started for the stairs, then looked around for somewhere to park the toddler, who was beginning to grizzle.
‘Let me,’ said Ellie, taking the toddler. ‘You fetch the baby and I’ll take this one through to the back and see what the twins are up to, right?’
Ellie jiggled the toddler, who gazed at her with round eyes. The kitchen and playroom were in chaos with plastic toys all over the floor and two red-faced children attacking one another with plastic spades. ‘Stop that!’ commanded Ellie and to her amazement, they did. Identical twins, by the look of them, dressed in identical blue outfits. Now there were three children gazing at her with round eyes and open mouths.
‘Which is Rory, and which is Emma?’ Ellie pulled out a chair,
checked it for spilt food and sat with the toddler on her knee. Mrs Logan reappeared with a red-faced baby on her arm, while all three older children continued to gaze at Ellie.
‘That’s quite a gift you have,’ said Mrs Logan, pulling up her sweater and freeing a breast to feed the baby.
‘I wish I had it for my grandson,’ said Ellie. ‘I can’t do anything with him at the moment. Teething, you know.’
‘Tell me about it. I don’t suppose you remember, but my mother introduced us one day at the charity shop. I’m so sorry, I can’t remember names. Mrs … Thick?’
Ellie winced. That was about right. ‘Quicke,’ she said. ‘However do you manage, with four such young children?’
‘Five. Mother helps. She’ll be collecting the eldest from school soon. Yes, it’s tricky. There’s nursery and Toddlers’ Club in the mornings but the afternoons can be difficult. Roll on September when the twins go up to big school and the baby sleeps through the night.’
‘Does your husband help?’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t get back till late, works in the City, you know. He’s marvellous with them, but sometimes he’s too tired to do much. Except for Monday nights. That’s his night out, when he goes to choir practice at the town hall, they’re doing another Messiah, would you believe. My turn comes on Tuesdays, when I go to art classes. That gives us each a few hours off each week. There’s a dummy on the table. Shove that in her gob if she yells. She would not go down to sleep this afternoon, and she’s almost dead with tiredness.’
Ellie shoved. The twins went back to battering their toys. The baby sucked. Mrs Logan relaxed into her chair. She must have been pretty once, and would be so again when she wasn’t so tired. Every line in her body showed fatigue, but she was a nice girl and remembered her manners.
Murder of Innocence Page 20