Sunday morning. Ellie got ready for church, doing all the little jobs that she usually did on a Sunday morning. She dusted the living-room, disposed of Saturday’s newspapers, watered the houseplants and got a small joint out of the freezer for supper.
Then she rang Aunt Drusilla. Either she or Frank – usually Ellie – had always rung Aunt Drusilla on Sundays before church. Would she have the nerve to tell Aunt Drusilla about the loss of Frank’s trinkets?
‘You’re late!’ That was Aunt Drusilla’s greeting.
Immediately Ellie was thrown on the defensive. ‘Am I? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize …’
‘Do you think I have nothing better to do than sit around waiting for you
to ring me? You never have had any consideration for me, have you!’ ‘Now you know that’s not true …’
Sniff. ‘Well, life has to go on, and if I can put the past behind me and
look to the future then I expect you to do so, too. Are you going to church
this morning?
‘Yes, I—’
‘Pity. There’s a nasty smell in the larder. That woman of mine never
does it properly and at least you can be trusted to use some disinfectant
on the job.’
‘I’m afraid—’
‘I shall expect you tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. Don’t be late!’ She put the phone down.
Ellie made faces at the receiver. She was not going to turn herself into
a drudge for Aunt Drusilla. No way. She had never liked the old bat, and
didn’t see why she should put herself out for her now. Besides, she was
planning to go into the charity shop tomorrow.
Feeling both guilty and elated, she rang Aunt Drusilla back. ‘It’s me again. I’m sorry, but I can’t come round tomorrow. I’m due at
the charity shop.’
Aunt Drusilla was not pleased. ‘Is that really more important than—’ ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but for the next few
days I’m going to be rather tied up. I’ve got so behind-hand, you see …’ ‘How like you! No, don’t apologize! I’ll get my woman to deal with it.’ She rang off, abrupt as ever.
Ellie wondered if Aunt Drusilla had ever really loved anyone, even
Frank. She had never bothered to visit him in hospital. Frank would
have left the big house to his aunt, of course … how could he have
done anything else? Though what sort of life it was for Aunt Drusilla,
rattling around in that great big place all alone, Ellie couldn’t
imagine.
Ellie had a dim memory of their solicitor being cornered by Aunt Drusilla
after the funeral. No doubt she was asking if Frank had left her any
money, as well.
With a feeling of having temporarily escaped a thunderstorm, Ellie
slipped upstairs to put on some lipstick before leaving.
Another dull day.
As she leaned into the mirror to check her lipstick, she thought she
saw …
‘Frank!’
It was only his green silk dressing-gown, hanging on the back of the
door. She’d cleared out a lot of his clothes but had overlooked his
dressing-gown. The bedroom door always swung gently open, unless
you shut it with a firm hand.
Ellie took a deep breath. She told herself she was not going to faint,
that it was all nonsense about people coming back from the grave and
that she was merely suffering from a shortage of sleep.
It didn’t work. She sat on the bed, rocking to and fro.
She didn’t get to church.
She wept. Mopped up. Tried to make herself a cup of tea. Tried to read
the newspaper, a book. Couldn’t. Wept again.
Mid-afternoon there was a ring at the door. Ellie dragged herself to it,
sniffing.
It was Liz Adams, the vicar’s wife. Greying hair carefully blonded, the
very picture of a horsey upper-class lady with a heart big enough to take
in a whole diocese, never mind one miserable little widow. Ellie dissolved into her arms. She hadn’t known she had so many
tears in her.
Liz sat and patted Ellie’s shoulder and let her weep, listening while
Ellie talked and talked and talked.
‘… and all I’ve done these last few days is think nasty things about
Frank, and really he was the sweetest …’
‘… I keep thinking and thinking how I might have stopped him killing
himself by working so hard, but …’
Later, Ellie couldn’t remember that Liz had ever said anything but
‘There, there!’
A very efficient comforter.
Liz coaxed Ellie up to bed, and sat with her till she slept.
Sunday afternoon. The fat man rang from his mobile, sitting in the Saab in the drive of the empty house.
He wheezed and used his inhaler.
‘It’s me. I’m back. She hasn’t moved all day. I’ve driven round the front of the house a coupla times. She’s been in bed most of the time. I could see a sidelight on in the front bedroom. Only one caller, came across from the vicarage, stayed a while. Ah, she’s just got up again by the looks of it, lights going on downstairs, kitchen and living-room.’
The phone quacked at him.
‘No, I can’t see her front door, so I drive round that way every hour. But even if she goes out by the road she’s got to come past this way if she wants to get a bus or something. It’s quiet as the whatsit. The filth came round again this afternoon. This time they found the girlfriend in, had a long talk with her. Mister stormed out and left her to it. But even the filth didn’t stay long.’
Quack, quack.
‘Yeah, I know what he said, and he’s right. If she was standing at the window, then she must of seen him up by the church. But the filth aren’t showing any interest in her at all. I reckon we should act quick like, before she realizes—’
The quacking rose to a crescendo, and the phone was cut off.
Frustrated, the man in the car hit the dashboard with a large fist. It was costing him, this delay. Two old biddies, standing between him and what was rightly his. What was the point of playing pussy with them when pussies could be drowned, easy, no messing, end of aggro.
But the boss said there was a plan. ‘Back off!’ the boss said. Well, so he would. But there was no harm making a few plans, was there … contingency plans …
He knew where to find them, both of them.
Early that evening there was a hesitant ring at Ellie’s front door. At first she thought of pretending she wasn’t in. She’d only just dragged herself out of bed with the intention of making herself some soup and going back to bed with it. But it might have been Liz returning for something, so she opened the door.
It was Kate from next door, holding a cardboard box in both hands. Now was she a murderess, or not?
She said, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you. I thought you might be lying down …’
She held up the box. ‘Armand always goes out on a Sunday evening and I was by myself, feeling a bit blue. I’d bought myself a pizza for supper and then I thought you might not be up to cooking, and might like some, too.’
Ellie opened the door wide. ‘Come in. I could do with the company.’
Kate stepped inside. She was indeed a tall, well-built girl, but today her usually glowing colour had faded. She was wearing an ancient brown baggy jumper over faded jeans. Her hair looked as if it could do with brushing, and she wore no makeup.
To Ellie’s eyes, Kate looked as if she’d been crying. Well, that makes two of us, Ellie thought. ‘Fancy a cuppa? Coffee or tea?’
Kate tried to smile. ‘Anything stronger?’
Ellie didn’t usually drink except for the occasional glass of sherry or wine at parties,
but tonight she felt reckless. ‘Why not?’
She got out the remains of the bottle of sherry and poured. ‘Cheers!’
Kate was diffident. ‘How are you coping?’
‘Badly.’
‘I thought so, because I hadn’t seen you in the garden or heard you moving about. I didn’t like to interfere. Then I was away at a conference, and when I got back, the police came round for a chat. Apparently they’d been chasing me up and down the country, thinking I was in Birmingham when I was down in Surrey. Armand must have got mixed up. It’s Birmingham next month. They weren’t very pleased, thought I’d misled Armand on purpose or something. They seemed to think that I … oh, such a stupid idea. Eventually I had to tell them I wasn’t answering any more questions until my solicitor was present and they left, saying that they’d be getting back to me soon. It’s a nightmare.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Kate glanced up, glanced away. ‘It’s me who should be saying I’m sorry. About your husband. It must be horrible for you.’
Ellie poured them both another drink. ‘I sink into self-pity if I’m on my own and I’ve had my crying jag for today.’
The girl smiled, and her whole face lightened. ‘We’re a right pair. You’re grieving for Frank and I’m so self-centred that all I can think about is poor Ferdy.’
‘Did you know him well?’
‘Yes, we go back a long way. We went to the same school, though he was a year ahead. We all used to look up to him because he was so streetwise, knew the best disco, learned how to drive early. He taught me how to drive. After I left school, we used to go around together. We all came from the same council block, you see. His mum and mine were mates, down the bingo. My mum still lives there, but Mrs Hanna moved to the Avenue when she got the job at the bakery.’
Ellie upturned the bottle over their glasses. ‘Were you serious about him?’
‘No, we really were just good friends. You see, I was good at maths, wanted to get on, while Ferdy hated school and dropped out as soon as he could. All he could think about was cars, buying old wrecks, doing them up, selling them. At one time we used to talk about the four of us setting up in a garage. Bob was going to be his right hand man, Joyce was going to run the office and I’d do the accounts. We even went around looking at possible sites.
‘Then Joyce and I went on to college and Bob went in with his brother, window-cleaning. Ferdy let it all slide. I tackled him about it, once or twice. He used to say, “Give it a rest, girl. I’m doing all right as I am.”’
‘And was he?’
‘Just about. He bought cars cheaply at auctions, did them up, sold them through his contacts locally and through adverts in the papers. He did the work in the road outside his flat at first, and when the people at the flats objected, he found space anywhere … up by the church here, as often as not. He could tackle most jobs, using that old van of his as a sort of portable garage, keeping spares in it, jump leads, batteries, you name it – he could do anything that didn’t need a pit. He talked about renting a proper garage, but he never got round to it. It kept the overheads down, you see.’
‘I thought he was on the dole.’
‘No.’ She bit her lip. ‘Well, between you and me, I think that early on when the car business was slow, he did maybe have a stint on the dole. It’s difficult when you’re working for yourself, isn’t it?’
Ellie was getting the picture. ‘You mean, he never paid tax on anything?’
‘Possibly not. And he did have a sideline, picking up bits and pieces here and there, selling them on at car boot sales. Anything for cash. He liked the freedom of it. He was fun. It’s hard to realize I’ll never see him again.’
4
The sherry had done its job. Kate was relaxed, lying back in the armchair, stretching out her long legs. Suddenly Ellie remembered the pizza waiting to be eaten … and the joint that she’d never cooked.
‘Food? Shall we share your pizza?’
Kate jumped up. ‘If I don’t eat, I’ll dissolve into tears again.’
They ate the pizza at the table in the kitchen. (Shades of Frank. What would he have said to such sloppy behaviour?) Ellie found a bottle of red wine and they both agreed that though they never normally indulged to this extent, tonight was definitely a night on which to drink oneself silly.
Ellie took some ice cream out of the freezer to finish with.
‘Thanks,’ said Kate, sighing and smiling both at once. ‘I needed that.’
‘The police …’ said Ellie, shaking her head in sympathy.
‘Yes, I had to laugh when they said … but it really isn’t a laughing matter. Poor Ferdy. How could anyone do that to him! I can’t help thinking that if I hadn’t got so angry with him that night … but it doesn’t do any good to think if onlys, does it?’
‘No,’ said Ellie, thinking that if only Frank hadn’t insisted on taking on that extra work …
‘Ferdy never wanted me to marry Armand. Said I’d regret it. I thought he was just jealous, but I wonder now … we used to go round in a foursome, me with Ferdy, and Joyce with his mate Bob. Joyce was my best friend at school.’
‘Is that Joyce McNally who helps with the Brownies at church?’
‘Yeah. Odd how we turned out so different, isn’t it? I mean, catch me going to church regularly and helping little girls on with their pinnies. But then, she’s going out with the scoutmaster now, so she’s not such a party girl any more. We used to joke that we both liked our tea dark and our men fair. Then I married Armand, she’s going out with the scoutmaster, and they’re both fair. Odd how things turn out, isn’t it?’
‘How did Ferdy and Armand get on?’
‘I don’t think they ever met. When you get married, some friends tend to drop away. When I saw Ferdy in the street or the pub, then of course I’d stop and we’d yak a bit. I wasn’t going to cut him out of my life totally because Armand was, well …’ Kate’s lips twisted, but not in a smile. ‘Between you and me, he’s a bit of a snob.’
Perhaps it’s a good sign that she can see her husband clearly, thought Ellie. ‘And the night of the murder? You don’t mind talking about it, do you?’
‘I can’t think about anything else. I’d gone out to return a library book which was overdue and I saw Ferdy outside the church. He was in a temper already because the vicar had been on at him to move his van. Ferdy said something stupid about Armand, and I stormed off. End of story.’
‘Whatever did he say?’
‘I don’t want to repeat it. It wasn’t true, anyway.’ She pressed her hand to her eyes.
‘Did you tell the police what he said?’
Kate shook her head, without removing her hand.
Ellie said, quietly, ‘Coffee?’
Kate nodded. They moved back into the living-room with their coffees.
‘So you left Ferdy and ran down the alley, crying. I think I saw you.’
‘Please, do tell the police. They think I clonked Ferdy on the head in a temper, and killed him.’
‘You didn’t, did you?’
Kate shook her head.
‘Why didn’t you go straight home when you left Ferdy?’
‘I didn’t want to let Armand see I was crying. He’d only have wanted to know why, and if I’d mentioned Ferdy’s name … Armand is – was – jealous of Ferdy. He has – had – no reason to be, but he was. I saw the lights were on in the house, and Armand moving around in the kitchen. I needed to be by myself for a while, so I ran over to the park and walked around. It wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t really cold.
‘I went home in the end, of course. I told Armand there’d been a problem at work that I’d been trying to work out. He was furious that I’d been walking around the park in the dark, and of course he could see I’d been crying. I always look a wreck when I cry.’
Ellie said, ‘That makes two of us.’
‘No, you don’t,’ said Kate. ‘You still look lovely, even though you say you’ve been crying. What I’d give for
a skin like yours!’
‘Flatterer.’
Kate rose, not quite steady on her feet. ‘Whoops. Am I going to have a bad head tomorrow!’
‘Worth it,’ said Ellie, still feeling reckless.
Kate smiled. ‘You remind me of my auntie. She was a lovely woman, and I still miss her.’
Ellie said, ‘I must tell you about Frank’s Aunt Drusilla some time. She is not lovely. She is a demanding old harridan.’ She put her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, dear. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I’m feeling guilty. She wanted me to clean her larder for her this week, and I refused. I still can’t believe that I had the courage to do so. I suppose I ought to ring up and apologize. She is old, after all, and perhaps she doesn’t realize how rude she is.’
‘If she’s been rude to you,’ said Kate with tipsy earnestness, ‘then you’ve every right to scut her … cut her out. Relatives can’t all be lovely. I’ve got an old nuncle – uncle! who’s a real horror. Calls my mum up in the middle of the night to cut his t-toenails.’
They both laughed, then realized how late it was as the clock in the hall chimed the hour of twelve. Exaggeratedly putting her finger to her lips, Kate tiptoed up the path, wrestled the gate open, waved to Ellie and trod down the path to her own front door.
What would Diana say, Ellie thought, if she knew her mother was consorting with a murder suspect?
Monday. Wash day. Bother.
Changing the sheets on the king-size bed was always a chore. Frank
liked pure cotton sheets, difficult to iron.
At least I don’t have a hangover, Ellie thought. But I don’t have to sleep
in a double bed any more if I don’t want to! I don’t have to iron another
pure cotton sheet! Polycotton, here I come!
Smiling, she went to the bathroom.
A heavy thump shook the party wall, followed by the sound of an angry
man’s voice. Ellie nearly dropped her hairbrush. What on earth was
going on?
She fetched her portable radio and turned the volume up high, placing
it on the lavatory seat so that whoever was in the bathroom next door
would be reminded that sound travelled through the party wall. ‘Yes!’ she said, wielding her hairbrush. ‘Enough is enough. Frank’s death was a shock, but if I’m being brutally honest … well, my dear Ellie, we both know that life with Frank was not a bed of roses. He was a good man but he always thought he was right about everything. You and I know that he wasn’t always right, was he? Mind you, it wasn’t all his fault. His Aunt Drusilla is a narrow-minded, difficult woman and his
Murder at the Altar Page 5