by Cathy Glass
‘Wait and see.’
Outside he’d proudly showed her his new gleaming motor parked by the kerb and told her to get in. She said all the right things to begin with, and he’d enjoyed her admiration. But once they were out of the town and away from the speed cameras she became edgy as he opened the throttle and showed her what his beauty could do. She told him to slow down, that he was driving too fast, like his mother or Eloise might have done. Heaven forbid she was going the same way and felt it was all right to criticize him. He might have to put her in her place like he had them.
He hadn’t slowed, not one little bit, and she’d grown quiet, and was no longer praising him or his car, which irritated him. Women were so fickle; they could change in an instant. He headed back to the flat making sure she understood he wasn’t happy – his face set, his hands gripping the wheel, ignoring her. Then she’d said, ‘Someone I knew died in a car accident and going fast makes me scared.’
‘Boyfriend?’ he’d asked with a niggle of resentment that she’d had to mention her past and spoil his fun. That was women for you. Always digging up the past and confiding. He’d thought Rosie might have been different but clearly he’d been wrong.
Then she’d touched his arm and apologized. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just me being silly. I didn’t mean to criticize you. Forget I said anything. It’s a fantastic car and you’re a great driver.’
So perhaps it would be OK after all?
Back at the rectory, Elizabeth and Andrew were talking as they ate dinner, making everyday conversation. Elizabeth had slipped in as casually as she could that Jacob was staying at Rosie’s and had taken out a bank loan to buy another car. She omitted to say that it looked quite new and therefore expensive so the bank loan was likely to be quite large. Even so, Andrew had raised his eyes to the ceiling and said, ‘Well, I hope he can afford the repayments.’
Elizabeth had never got around to telling him of Eloise’s mother’s phone call and her shocking claims that Jacob had raped her daughter. Andrew always seemed so anxious and preoccupied that she hadn’t wanted to add to his concerns, and with Rosie on the scene it was starting to slip into the past. She didn’t want to go stirring up trouble; Andrew would be devastated if she told him. It was possible that Eloise had been jealous and exaggerated as Jacob had claimed. Best to let it rest, she decided.
Neither had she told him about her latest internet search which had revealed the donor’s identity. She knew if she did tell him he would try to persuade her not to go as he’d taken Dr Shah’s view that it wasn’t possible for a transplanted organ to pass on personality. Elizabeth needed encouragement to take the next step, not someone trying to dissuade her. What Andrew didn’t know couldn’t harm him, so keeping the conversation on safe ground she asked about the church restoration fund, a subject on which he spoke often and with great animation.
As usual they took their coffee into the living room so they could watch the evening news. A few minutes after settling into their respective armchairs the landline rang and Andrew answered it. Elizabeth pointed the remote at the television to silence it.
‘Hi Sid. How can I help you?’ Andrew asked amicably.
Elizabeth glanced over. It was late for Sid Jenkins to be phoning about routine parish business. She watched Andrew’s expression grow serious as he listened to what Sid was telling him. Then, ‘No. Surely not?’ And his brow furrowed. He fell silent and listened again, then, ‘Dear me, what a shock.’ Another pause then, ‘No indeed. I will. Thanks for letting me know. Goodbye, Sid.’
He met Elizabeth’s gaze, his expression serious.
‘It seems Mary’s cottage may have been broken into after all.’
‘No!’ Elizabeth gasped. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘The police have been in touch with Sid; the money Mary claims was hidden in her cottage has gone. However, she’s a bit confused and keeps changing her mind about how much she had and where it was hidden, so the police are being cautious at present. It may be that in the end it turns out there wasn’t any money, but for now they’re treating it as a burglary.’
‘Oh dear. Mary was confused when I visited her in hospital. She thought that Jacob had been to see her at the cottage on Saturday, until I told her he’d been away for the weekend. Then she realized it must have been another day.’
‘I didn’t know he still went to see her,’ Andrew remarked. ‘That’s decent of him.’
Elizabeth nodded non-commitally. ‘How much does Mary think has gone missing? Does she have any idea?’
‘From what Sid said it could be thousands but the sum keeps changing. It’s upsetting all the same, even if it turns out Mary is mistaken. We may need to put in some extra help when she comes home if she’s very confused.’
‘Yes, absolutely.’
‘And Sid said to tell you that the police have finished at the cottage now so if you want to collect her glasses and mail it’s fine to go in.’
‘Good. I’ll go tomorrow.’
Which effectively postponed visiting the donor’s family for another day.
Chapter Thirty-Four
At one o’ clock the following afternoon Elizabeth left the rectory to go first to Acorn Cottage and then on to see Mary in hospital. She’d take her mail, hopefully her glasses if she could find them, and buy her some of her favourite sweets and magazines from the hospital gift shop, although unless she found her glasses the magazines wouldn’t be much use.
The lane was empty and as Elizabeth parked outside the cottage she thought it already looked a little abandoned, its warmth and vitality coming from Mary’s presence. She went up the garden path and took the key from under the mat to open the outer door. If Mary had been burgled then they’d have to think about having a key safe box with a code installed; it had never been considered necessary before.
Elizabeth replaced the key and then opened the inner door, never locked – which again they might have to reconsider – and stepped into the cottage. Sunlight shone through the small latticed windows but there was a musty smell, since the cottage was not being properly aired each day. She opened one of the windows in the living room and then looked around. The room appeared as it always did – no sign of the police having been here and nothing out of place, although Mary’s walking frame, usually by her side, was standing by the doorway that led to the back hall. Mary would need that when she was discharged, and Elizabeth made a mental note to mention it to Sid (self-appointed trustee of Mary’s business and that of many of the other villagers), so that whoever collected Mary from hospital would take it with them.
Looking around the rest of the living room Elizabeth saw that the fruit bowl on the sideboard contained a couple of overripe bananas which were adding to the mustiness. She took them into the lobby to throw away on her way out. Then she set about searching for Mary’s glasses, but there was no sign of them, just the glasses case on the coffee table where it always was. She continued through to the kitchen where Mary’s mail had been left in a neat pile on the work surface, but no glasses. She checked the cupboards and drawers and then the fridge, for if Mary was becoming confused and in the early stages of dementia she might have put them in there. But apart from milk and eggs, which would need replacing before Mary returned, there wasn’t much else. She checked inside the oven and then took the mail into the living room where she placed it on the sofa to take with her later.
Next she went through the small rear hall and into Mary’s bedroom. The fragrance coming from the small china bowl of potpourri on her dressing table pleasantly personalized the room, leaving Mary’s mark. Her library books were also on the dressing table, but not her glasses. Elizabeth felt a pang of sadness as she looked at the old-fashioned bed, exactly as Mary had left it on Saturday night when she’d gone in search of her glasses, then tripped and fallen in the dark. Like most of those in the village she doubted anyone had broken in and knocked Mary unconscious, not from what Sid had said about her being confused.
Elizabeth began making the bed, as she did so checking the glasses hadn’t become concealed in the pillowcases or between the sheet and blankets – Mary refused to give up her blankets for a duvet. Then she got down on her hands and knees and looked under the bed, but there was nothing there except a few dust motes and a spare pair of slippers. Straightening, she checked the chest of drawers and wardrobe, then opened the top library book and saw it was due back in two days – as were the others. She carried them into the living room and placed them on the sofa beside Mary’s mail to take with her.
Elizabeth continued into the bathroom, which smelt stale, so she squirted some disinfectant down the toilet, sink and bath, then checked the bathroom cabinet for the glasses. There was nowhere else they could be in the bathroom so she returned to the hall and went into the second bedroom. Mary only used it for storage and it appeared she hadn’t been in here for ages, so with a quick glance around she closed the door and went to the third bedroom. This room was seldom used and contained a single bed and a dressing table – no sign of the glasses.
Back in the living room Elizabeth gave a perfunctory last check around to see if she’d missed anything obvious, but wherever they were, the glasses were well and truly hidden. She now resigned herself to ordering two replacement pairs from the opticians, one as a spare to stop this happening again. In the meantime she could offer Mary her own over-the-counter spare pair of reading glasses.
She closed the window and crossed to the sofa to pick up her handbag, the library books and mail, then with a final glance around the room went to the inner door. As she opened it the smell of overripe bananas hit her, even more pungent in the confines of the warm sun-filled lobby. She picked them up, locked the front door, then took them to Mary’s dustbin, which was always kept out of sight down the side of the cottage. As she dropped them in she caught a flash of glass glinting in the sunlight and looked closer. Moving a bag of rubbish out of the way, she gingerly reached in and took out Mary’s broken glasses. Both lenses were smashed and the frames bent. Well, that solved the mystery, although it was worrying that Mary had completely forgotten she’d broken them. Sid was right. She would need extra support if she was going to be able to return to live in her cottage.
As Elizabeth drove to the hospital Rosie and Eva were on their lunch break, enjoying a proper meal by way of a little celebration rather than their usual sandwiches.
‘Your last day tomorrow,’ Rosie sighed regretfully. ‘I’m really going to miss you. Work just won’t be the same. We have such a laugh.’
‘I’ll miss you too, but we’ll get together regularly. I count you as one of my closest friends.’ Eva shifted in her chair and rubbed her baby bump. ‘One thing for sure, I couldn’t have continued coming into work much longer. I’ve been going home in the evening and just sleeping. Syed has been telling me for some time to finish.’
‘You’ve done well,’ Rosie said. ‘Don’t forget to wear your best dress tomorrow for the presentation.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Eva said pulling a face. ‘It’s nice of them to arrange the collection but I could do without having to make a speech. How embarrassing.’
‘You’ll be fine. Just say thank you. And when the baby is born make sure you text or phone me straightaway.’
‘I will, but you’ll come and see me before then, won’t you? I’ve still a month to go.’
‘I hope so.’ She smiled and both women paused to continue eating the quiche and salad they’d ordered, before Eva said, ‘Enough about me. How is Prince Charming? You’ve gone all quiet and secretive. Tell me all.’
Rosie smiled coyly. ‘He’s fine.’
‘Just fine! Miss Super-cool. You look like the cat that’s swallowed the mouse.’
‘If you must know, Jacob’s moved in.’
‘Really? You didn’t say anything. That was quick.’
‘It’s only been a few days.’
‘And you’re all right with that?’ Eva asked slightly seriously. ‘Sorry. Daft question. Of course you’re happy with that or you wouldn’t have let him.’
‘I didn’t really have much choice,’ Rosie said with a smile. ‘He just turned up with his bag. But it’s OK. I’ve met his mother, she’s lovely, and has invited us to dinner. Although I think there’s some friction between Jacob and his father; being a reverend they don’t always see eye to eye on things.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Eva said, taking a sip of her sparkling water. ‘But what about Jacob’s health? You’re not going to end up looking after an invalid like my mum did.’ Eva’s father had suffered from a chronic lung condition and had died when Eva was a child.
Rosie shook her head. ‘After a transplant you can live a normal life. You have to take tablets and have check-ups but it’s not a problem.’
‘Good. So he can go back to work?’
‘Yes, in a few months, although he’s thinking of changing his job.’
‘I thought he had a good job?’
Rosie shrugged. ‘He didn’t like it. It’s up to him.’
‘So it’s still the honeymoon period then?’ Eva said, pressing her for more detail. ‘You haven’t discovered any nasty habits yet, like picking his nose in the bath?’ They laughed.
‘No, but I am going to have to teach him to clear up after himself. I think his mum must spoil him because he leaves all his dirty plates and mugs around for me to deal with.’
‘Start as you mean to carry on,’ Eva said with a smile. ‘I wish I had with Syed!’
‘I will. I’m wiser this time,’ Rosie said. She saw Eva glance at her questioningly, but as before when she’d let similar comments slip Eva didn’t press her. ‘I’ve already made it clear he has to smoke outside and not in the flat,’ she added.
‘I didn’t know he smoked?’ Eva said, popping another mouthful of the quiche and salad into her mouth.
‘Not ordinary cigarettes, he smokes cannabis for medical purposes. It helps with the pain and discomfort after a big operation. It’s legal in many other countries. His parents know,’ she added as if that made it acceptable.
‘I’m pleased for you,’ Eva nodded. ‘He always seems very pleasant when he comes into the bank, but do take it slowly. Give yourself time. There’s no rush.’
‘I know.’
‘You must both come for supper one evening after the baby is born. Bring out his paternal side.’
‘And I thought you’d just told me to take it slowly!’ Rosie exclaimed, laughing.
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘That’s kind of you,’ Mary said as Elizabeth set the sweets and magazines on her bedside cabinet. She was now sitting in the hospital chair beside her bed and looked much better. The head bandage had been replaced by a large plaster and there was some colour in her cheeks.
‘And I brought all your letters but I think most of them are circulars. Shall we go through them now?’
‘No, thank you, dear. Leave them on there.’ She tapped the bedside cabinet. ‘I’ll see to them later. It will give me something to do.’
Elizabeth did so and then leant in closer so that Mary could hear but not the rest of the ward. ‘I found your glasses. They were in the dustbin. I saw them when I threw away some overripe bananas.’
‘What were they doing there?’ Mary asked, genuinely surprised.
‘I assumed you’d put them there. They’re broken. They can’t be repaired.’
‘It wasn’t me,’ Mary declared adamantly. ‘I would have remembered. Perhaps the police or one of my visitors trod on them by accident.’
‘I think they would have said,’ Elizabeth said in a conciliatory tone. ‘But never mind, you can borrow mine until I can get yours replaced.’ Elizabeth passed her spare pair to Mary, who put them on and tentatively looked through the lenses.
‘Thank you dear, but mine were bi-focals.’
‘I know, but at least you’ll be able to read your magazines and mail until I can get you a new pair. I’ll phone your opticians and order a repeat pre
scription today.’
‘Yes, I’ll need them when I go home.’
‘I was thinking of getting two pairs so you’ll have one pair as a backup.’
‘How much will that cost?’ Mary asked, concerned. ‘I haven’t got much money. He took it all. Didn’t they tell you?’
‘Yes.’ Elizabeth placed a reassuring hand on Mary’s arm. ‘Don’t worry. We can sort out payment later.’
‘Perhaps he smashed my glasses?’ Mary suddenly said, her eyes widening.
‘Who?’
‘The man who broke into my cottage and robbed me.’
‘And then bothered to put your glasses in the dustbin?’ Elizabeth asked sceptically.
‘Perhaps he broke them and someone else threw them away.’ Clearly Mary still believed she’d been burgled and Elizabeth wasn’t going to enter into a discussion on it. The police or Sid would put her straight once the investigation was complete. Mary was obviously feeling better; she was more like her old self again, quick-witted, sharp and wanting to have the final say. It was what gave her character.
‘That would fit,’ Mary said, not willing to give up the subject easily. ‘He smashed my glasses so I couldn’t identify him. The police asked if I could give them a description but of course I couldn’t see him. I just heard his voice. I couldn’t be sure how much he’d taken. I’ve saved up all my life and it’s all gone. I told them I thought it was about twenty thousand pounds but I couldn’t be sure.’
‘Twenty thousand!’ Elizabeth exclaimed incredulously. ‘You didn’t have that much in the cottage, Mary, surely?’
‘I did,’ she said defiantly. ‘I hid it under the mattress. I thought it was a good hiding place. But the police lady said it would be one of the first places a burglar would look.’
Five hundred pounds of savings Elizabeth might have believed, but not £20,000. ‘Would you like one of your sweets?’ she asked, changing the subject again.