‘Can I give my husband a message?’
Ellie began rocking the toddler, who relaxed in her arms, eyelids flickering. ‘I don’t think you need bother. One of the schools was thinking of starting up a stamp club and I was asking around, seeing if I could find someone to run it. Obviously, your husband wouldn’t have the time.’
‘It’s a good idea, though. If he didn’t have so much on, I expect he’d have been interested. Collecting stamps used to be his passion in life. Stamps with butterflies on. He used to collect quite seriously but all that’s had to go by the board for the time being. I expect he’ll pick it up again later.’
The dummy fell out of the toddler’s mouth, she half clenched her fists and then relaxed completely. She was asleep. The baby fell off the breast, was burped, and put on the other side. Ellie remembered that little Frank had been just as sweet when he was little, before he began teething. Perhaps he’d be like that again soon.
There was a ring at the door, a key turned in the lock, and a woman called out, ‘Yoohoo, we’re back!’ A stolid five-year-old boy stumped into the kitchen, followed by a matronly figure whom Ellie recognized as Sonia, an occasional helper at the charity shop. Presumably this was Mrs Logan’s mother.
‘Well, fancy bumping into you again, Ellie. We miss you something awful at the shop nowadays. Did you hear about John and poor Sue trying to harm herself? Some people do have bad luck, don’t they? And did you know Madam’s gone and given Rose the push? You’ve heard? Word gets around, doesn’t it? Let me take the little one off you. There, my pretty, let’s go up to beddy-byes, shall we?’
Relieved of her burden, Ellie brushed down her lap – was it faintly damp? – and said she must be going. The five-year-old was helping himself to a biscuit and the twins were clamouring for some, too. The fiveyear-old was wearing the uniform of the Catholic school a couple of streets away. Catholic equals big families equals no opportunity for Mr Logan to have come across Tod, even if he’d had the energy to do anything about it. And if he’d been looking after five children on Tuesday evening he wouldn’t have had time for an encounter with Tod.
Scratch his name off the list.
Pearsall, Logan and what was the other name? Cunningham. Two down, one to go.
The trees were coming into leaf, some more quickly than others. Soon the grass would need cutting.
Ellie took the shortcut across the alley and opened the gate to her back garden. Midge appeared from nowhere and wound around her ankles. The shed door was still open so she looked in. Empty, of course. It made her shiver to think of Tod hiding there. She closed the door but it sprang open again. No padlock. Wonder where that went?
The house was unaccountably silent. No workmen.
She unlocked the conservatory door and went in.
Warmth. She touched the radiator, which was on. Good for Jimbo. He’d left a note on the kitchen table saying that the builder had called to see if she was ready for the tiler, and Jimbo had said she was. He’d done his best to clean up the front door for her, he hoped that was all right. It was very much all right. The front door looked as good as new, almost.
She fed Midge, whose stomach appeared to be elastic; whenever she appeared, whether it was nine in the morning, three in the afternoon or six at night, that was feeding time for Midge. She put away her shopping and went upstairs to turn out the back bedroom where Gus had slept. She couldn’t put it off for ever.
The room stank of cigarettes. The duvet and pillows might have to be dry-cleaned. She opened the windows wide even though there was a wind getting up. She’d forgotten to get new bags for the hoover, but used the carpet sweeper instead. Stripping the bed, she heard something drop to the floor. A small mobile phone. It was Diana’s, she was pretty sure of it.
She tried to turn it on, to see if she recognized any of the numbers in the memory bank but she’d always been hopeless at gadgets and couldn’t get any sense out of it.
She would have to get Diana to look at it and advise the police it had been found. She wondered how Gus had come to overlook it. She imagined him getting the big suitcase down and opening it on his bed, throwing in all his possessions and the bits and pieces he’d picked up from round the house. He’d be in a hurry, ears stretched to hear Roy and Ellie returning from their supper. In his haste he must have thrown the mobile phone wide and it had got tangled up with the duvet on the unmade bed. He’d closed the suitcase, dragged it downstairs, collected the video machine and legged it. She wondered if he’d packed the pizza as well. Yes, pillows and duvet would need dry-cleaning. Bother.
Now she’d started, she’d finish cleaning out the room, which certainly needed it. Junk-food wrappers, tissues, a dirty black sock with a hole in it … would Gus try to sue her for the loss of this sock? That made her smile.
By the time she’d finished and the room was clean and wholesome again, it was tea time.
As she closed the window against the gathering wind, she looked down the garden path. In the dusk she saw a lad cross the Green, walk through the gate into the alley and hesitate. Tod. By himself. Normally he’d look up at her window and if there were a light on in the house, he’d come on up the garden path, let himself in through the back door and expect to have tea waiting for him.
This time he didn’t look up. That hurt. He turned and went along the alley to the gate leading into his own garden. He walked slowly, heavily. There would be no one at home to look after him, but at least his house would be warm again.
Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. Lord, help me … I can’t bear it. Be with him, Lord. Help him through this difficult time, and don’t mind me if I have a moan now and again. She went downstairs to draw the curtains in the sitting room.The ones at the window overlooking the road looked dreadful. She really must get round to replacing them.
It was getting dark now, which veiled the ghastly wreck of her garden, but someone was out there, working on her front wall. She opened the front door and peered out. Armand waved his paintbrush at her. ‘Nearly finished one coat. It’s grey undercoat, and all you have to do is give it a quick once over with white or cream later, OK?’
‘Bless you. A cuppa? Tea or coffee?’
‘Five minutes. Coffee. Kate’ll be late tonight. Another meeting.’
A good neighbour.
The answerphone was blinking again. Ellie pressed replay.
Aunt Drusilla. ‘Where are you, girl? Diana’s left a message on the answerphone saying she’s coming round to see me at six o’clock, bringing some woman she wants to set up as my carer. I’d like you to be there.’ End of message.
Oh no, whatever next? I ought to have taken Diana’s plans more seriously. If she really has got someone of her own choosing to move in with Aunt Drusilla, then Aunt Drusilla needs armour-plated protection.
The phone messages kept coming. Next was Liz Adams. ‘Are you all right, Ellie? Been thinking and praying so much for you and Tod. And Gilbert has, too. He sends his love. I’ve got it in my mind that we’re coming over to you for lunch soon. Have we got a date fixed? Let me know.’ End of message.
Heavy breathing, a man’s voice. ‘It’s the tiler here, Ms Quicke. Start tomorrow at eight, OK?’ End of message.
Diana. ‘Mother, are you there? Stewart will be home tomorrow and I beg you not to do anything rash until we’ve had a family conference. Oh yes, and I’ve found someone suitable to look after Aunt Drusilla, which will be a great relief all round. If she won’t leave that big house, we need to know she’s being cared for properly.’ End of messages.
Ellie scooped up the post, found the claim form from the insurance people and reflected that she now needed a second one to cover the damage done to the garden. She could have sent them a request by email – if she’d been on email, which she wasn’t. She really must get herself up to date and on to the Internet, though not for looking into chatrooms.
She rang Aunt Drusilla to say that she’d be round as soon as she could. Rose was coming to supper. What would they have to
eat? And Armand was due to arrive any minute now.
In the past, Kate had been Ellie’s great friend and she’d been a trifle wary of Armand, but that situation was now changing. She pushed coffee and the biscuit tin over the kitchen table to him, thinking that it should have been Tod sitting opposite her after a hard day at school. She wondered how he’d got on …
Armand stirred sugar into his coffee. ‘Thanks, Ellie. Appreciated. I’m tied up all day at school tomorrow and in the evening or I’d do the top coat for you. The undercoat hides the graffiti, but doesn’t look wonderful.’
‘I’ve got the tiler coming round. Perhaps I can get him to do it.’ She pushed the stamp magazines back towards him. ‘Thanks for letting me have a look at these. I went round to see Mr Pearsall but he was most unforthcoming, almost rude. No help there, I’m afraid. Then I rang the secretary of the local stamp fair association and got some names from him. Three names, in fact. The first was Pearsall, of course. Logan, and then Cunningham. I went to see the Logans, but he’s got five young children, they’re Catholic and he babysits on Tuesday evenings. It’s not him. I’ve got one more on the list to see, and if he’s no good …’ She shrugged. ‘But I was thinking, do you know where Mr Pearsall got his stamps from when he ran the stamp club at school?’
Armand turned the pages in idle fashion. ‘No idea. One of these smaller businesses that stock stamps costing anything from ten pence to twenty pounds? Or he might have been one of those small dealers working from home. They get their stock at trade fairs.’
‘I saw there are lots of trade fairs all over the place.’ Armand took a biscuit, dunked it and sucked, while studying the pages. Then he sat back with a frown. ‘I go occasionally to one up at Harrow. Is that the one where you rang the secretary? It was? There’s something at the back of my mind about Pearsall. I might be able to dig up some gossip if I ask around. Mind if I use your phone?’
He went into the hall and tapped in a number he got from his filofax. Ellie looked at the clock. A quarter to five. She began to peel potatoes and scrape carrots for supper. Rose should be here soon.
Armand seemed to be on good terms with whoever it was he was calling. Another teacher at his school? Armand said he’d heard from an old pupil, from before his time, who wanted to contact the previous teacher in that job … no? Ah? Oh. Yes, perhaps that did explain it and … really, like that, was it? Well, well. He’d have to pass the message on … yes, see you tomorrow, then.
Armand rang off.‘Pearsall left to nurse his wife, who’d become seriously ill with cancer. She died but he was coming up to retirement age, so he didn’t come back to teaching. He was left quite well off, apparently.There’s no suggestion that he was ever involved in anything untoward.’
‘Only one more name to go. I’m beginning to think I was completely wrong about this.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Give us a hold of that top magazine. I’ve got an idea.’
He went back to the phone with it. Ellie sautéed some onions, threw in some chicken drumsticks, a tin of chopped tomatoes, some herbs, half a chicken stock cube, and topped off with hot water. There, that could go in the oven on medium till they were ready to eat.
Armand seemed to be a long time on the phone. She went through into the sitting room, checking for dirty mugs and glasses. Still Armand was on the phone, making notes on her pad.
She tidied the sitting room. The forsythia on the mantelpiece was perky enough. Good. Sometimes it flopped though she never knew why. When Armand got off the phone she must ring the police about the mobile phone she’d found. It probably was Diana’s. She’d ask her tonight. To remind herself, she popped it into her handbag.
Armand was still on the phone. He turned the pad over and was making more notes. Half past five. Rose was usually punctual. What was keeping her? Well, it could be anything from a button lost off her coat to … real trouble. Ellie wished Armand would get off the phone so she could contact Rose. Or maybe Rose was trying to contact her?
Armand finally got off the phone. He looked pleased with himself.
‘There, now. I phoned someone I used to know quite well in the old days, doesn’t live locally now but I still meet him sometimes at the stamp fairs. He mentioned Pearsall too, but obviously we don’t need to concern ourselves with him. Way above suspicion. However, my friend mentioned another couple of names and I’ve jotted them down for you.’
‘Bless you, dear Armand.’ Somewhat to her own surprise, she found herself reaching up to kiss him. Armand blinked, too. He hadn’t expected it, either.
The phone rang and they both jumped.
‘I’ll be off then,’ said Armand, looking at his watch and letting himself out.
It was Rose. ‘Ellie, dear, I’ve been trying and trying to get hold of you. Why don’t you get that call back thingy or caller waiting or something? The thing is that I’m going to be a little late, I’m afraid. I’ve had Joyce on the phone in tears, because she and her fiancé have been round to see the pub and apparently the place is one vast barn and most unsuitable, and I really don’t know what we’re going to do …’
‘Hang on, Rose. Look, I’ll get a cab and pick you up in ten minutes. And if you don’t mind, we’ll call round on my aunt on the way back. I’ve had a phone call from her saying she’s in a spot of bother and wants me round there at six. I’ll leave the supper on a low light here and if we’re a few minutes late, it won’t hurt. All right?’
The cab driver was late and the traffic was terrible. Ellie kept glancing at her watch. She didn’t like to think of Aunt Drusilla being railroaded into taking on a carer whom she didn’t want. There was nothing much wrong with Aunt Drusilla that a little tender loving care for a few days wouldn’t put right. Of course, in the long term she could do with a housekeeper or companion or somebody, but she must choose that person for herself. She must retain her independence, or …
Ellie let an idea grow and blossom in her mind. Somewhere to hold a wedding reception. Rose being thrown out of her job at the charity shop. The charity shop hadn’t paid Rose anything but it had lent structure to her life. Ellie knew all about needing a structure in your life. She’d floundered around like anything when Frank had died. Rose wouldn’t leave her little flat, of course. But if she could just move in with Aunt Drusilla for a couple of days …?
But no, Aunt Drusilla wouldn’t put up with Rose’s twittering for a minute, would she?
No, it was a bad idea. Ellie thought she’d been having one bad idea after the other recently. This one would no doubt come to nothing, as the others had.
They picked up Rose, who was unfortunately not looking her best in the oldest of her winter coats. It had started to rain again, so Rose had clapped her pink and white tea-cosy hat on her head. Slightly lopsided. Ellie sighed. No way would Aunt Drusilla take to dear Rose, who had a heart of gold but a taste for the garish in clothes.
No way.
Fifteen
E
llie gave the driver Aunt Drusilla’s address, thinking they wouldn’t make it for six but would be there soon after. ‘Dear Rose, I hope you don’t mind our calling on Aunt Drusilla, but she had a nasty fall some days ago and her cleaner has left. She really oughtn’t to be on her own in that big house while she’s recovering from her accident, so my daughter’s arranged to take round someone this evening to see if they’d like to stay there – just temporarily, you know.’
‘I do admire Miss Quicke. Such a grande dame. She didn’t break any bones when she fell, did she? Old people often do. HRT helps, they say, though personally I’ve no experience of it … and oh dear! I’ve just remembered that I didn’t have time to get anything from the bakery for our tea and they’ll be shut by now, won’t they …?’
Ellie let the gentle flow wash over her, wondering if she were doing the right thing or not.
‘What a magnificent house,’ breathed Rose, as they drew up in the driveway. Diana’s car was already there, as was a stout little Smart Car with a dented front bumper. Someone ha
d been a little too hasty at traffic lights, perhaps.
Ellie signed the driver’s chit. ‘We may be a good half hour or so, so I’ll order another minicab when we’re ready to go on home.’
‘They don’t build houses like this nowadays,’ said Rose, taking in all the gloomy grandeur of the hall. ‘Look at that stained-glass window on the stairs. A real parquet floor. And the twisty balusters on the stairs …’
Ellie led the way to the big sitting room at the back of the house, but Rose hung back to run her finger along a mahogany side table.
Aunt Drusilla was fully dressed and sitting in her big chair by the fireplace, with a rug over her knees and her stick close to hand. The harsh centre light was on but not the softer side lamps, and the long velvet curtains hadn’t been drawn against the darkness outside.
Ellie bent to kiss the old lady, who took her hand and held on to it. ‘I’m very glad to see you, Ellie. I did ask Roy to come too, but he hasn’t seen fit to appear yet. Something to do with the golf club, I believe.’
‘Aunt Drusilla, this is my dear friend Mrs Rose McNally. You may have met her before at my house? I hope you don’t mind my bringing her but she’s coming to supper with me later on.’
Rose beamed. ‘How are you, Miss Quicke? I hear you’ve not been too good. What a splendid house,’ said Rose, meaning it. ‘If I’d known I was coming to visit you, I’d have brought you some flowers. That’s all this room needs, a bunch of flowers.’
Aunt Drusilla held on to Ellie’s hand, steering her to sit on a low stool beside her. ‘Yes,’ she said to Rose. ‘We always used to have flowers in here when my mother was alive, but I’m afraid I’m not very good at arranging them.’
‘It’s something I’ve missed, being so far up in the air in those flats, but I always have my pot plants to remind me. Now a big bowl of tulips just there,’ said Rose, indicating a pie-crust Victorian tea table. ‘And perhaps a bunch of narcissi on the mantelpiece – shall I draw the curtains? It’s getting quite nasty outside …’
Murder of Innocence Page 21