‘I’ll try.’
We walked a bit further in silence. Then I had an idea. ‘If you’ve got regulations for dealing with people, there must be someone around who’s drawn them up – and whose job it is to reinforce them. That’s the person to consult. Oh, look – there’s Honey, the woman from the Pilates class.’ I waved.
Rather to my surprise, she crossed the road to join us. As always, I introduced Griff as my grandfather. His honorary status was something we kept between us.
Her smile dismissed him as an elderly irrelevance. ‘Hey, fancy a drink? I was going to text you.’
Griff gave me a little push. ‘Off you go, my dear one. Let me know if you want me to hold back supper.’
I did wish he’d stop arranging my social life for me; as it happened, I didn’t mind this one, but he wasn’t to know how I felt about the arrangement. But I smiled and said that since it was a work day tomorrow it would have to be a very quick drink.
Laura was already in the Pig and Whistle with a slick young man she introduced as her boyfriend, Jay. A jug of Pimm’s was on the table in front of them. I soon had a full glass in my hand, rather weaker than Griff made it but fine for all that. And then two other guys drifted in, Luke and Spencer, the latter of which turned out to be Honey’s brother. Luke was an estate agent – always, Honey told me, a good person to know if you wanted to get a toe in the property market; Spencer never made his occupation clear, but since I wasn’t interviewing him for a job, perhaps that didn’t matter. In any case, I was used to people having to ‘rest’ – most of Griff’s actor friends were what one might loosely call ‘between jobs’ at any particular time, and I knew I was more than lucky to have more work than I could handle, with a home thrown in. How many graduates and post-graduates were reduced to filling supermarket shelves, assuming they even got that lucky?
It soon became clear, however, that Honey and Luke were an item, and I guessed that the girls were trying to take my mind off Harvey by setting me up with Spencer. In his mid- to late twenties, he was nice enough, but with a face that would disappear in a crowd. Personality ditto. He certainly didn’t set my pulse racing. On the other hand, he seemed quite taken with me, particularly my dancing. Did I sense a touch of betrayal here? Had Honey lured him with promises of my extravagant costume and presumably exotic sexual tastes? I was ready to bristle. But it seemed he’d always liked Strictly Come Dancing and would love to have a go himself. Laughing darkly, I gave him details of Dee’s classes; let him make of the other students what he would.
To my surprise, the next day Griff summoned me from my workroom, where I was trying to help a china amputee, for coffee with Tony, the man who gave Dodie home Communion. Tony, who looked like a retired bank manager and turned out to be exactly that, hesitated over the indulgence of a biscuit, but when I told him that Griff had cooked a batch to take up to Dodie and had a few left over, he sensibly succumbed with gusto.
‘I gather you marked that model rat before Griff took it up,’ Tony prompted me. ‘Some sort of invisible ink?’
I nodded. ‘Just in case … What did she say when you showed it to her?’ I asked Griff.
‘Oh,’ he replied, in an old lady’s voice, ‘I wondered where that had gone. I thought I must have put it with the others for safe-keeping. I never got round to looking, of course, and the poor girls who come to care for me wouldn’t have time. But,’ fake Dodie continued, rubbing anxious hands over her face, ‘where did you find it, Mr Tripp?’
Tony watched fascinated as Griff returned to himself. ‘It’s a long story, Dodie,’ he said. ‘You’re sure it’s yours?’ Then he was Dodie again: ‘Yes. Look, there’s the tiniest of chips just here, which reduces its value, of course. That’s why I kept it down here with all that tatty rubbish. It wouldn’t matter if one of the girls damaged it while she was dusting.’ Griff, as himself once more, shot me an impish glance.
Tony reached for another biscuit. Then she repeated her question – where had Griff found it? I thought Griff might wriggle out of that one, but he told her the truth. And she … she seemed to understand.’
‘So who would have taken it?’ Dodie-Griff demanded. ‘And how did they know which to pick out? Because I didn’t take it to a sale, Tony – and I certainly didn’t find it there and bring it back, poor thing.’ Griff’s hands were old, of course, but rarely unsteady; now, as they stroked the invisible rat, they were those of someone who needed help to get dressed. He shot bright eyes up at Tony. ‘Would you and Mr – Mr … the other kind gentleman see if the others are safe? I can’t imagine why they shouldn’t be, but I’d be happier knowing.’
‘So up we had to go into her roof space – it’s not big enough to call a loft. And what should we find there but a locked box. Japanned metal – not a safe but heavy. The sort you store important documents in. Big strong padlock. No key.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ I observed, ‘keep the key with whatever it is you need to protect. But how on earth would you recall where you’d put it? Assuming your memory was going, that is?’
‘Going, but not quite gone. And now it’s in our – the church’s – safekeeping.’
‘Hang on – the key or the box?’
‘The key. The box was too heavy for us to lift. Three receipts we wrote out—’
‘Hang on, Tony – where did you find the key?’
‘You know those things you get by mail order – things you can’t even think of a use for, let alone use? Well, she got herself a little safe that looks like an electric wall-socket. She pointed straight to the right one. And there, amongst a few trinkets—’
‘Some a bit better than that, Tony. She had some really good pieces – Georg Jensen rings and brooches, and other modern designer jewellery. And don’t forget that diamond crucifix. Anyway, the key was there. And when we opened the box, still in situ, by the way, since neither of us had backs that could reach it down, we found thirty or so netsuke, all as lovely as the rat. It seems her husband spent time in the British embassy in Tokyo. And that little old Dodie was in British Intelligence.’ The two men, much of an age, shook their heads in silent horror at what she had become.
‘Remind me, my dear one,’ Griff said, ‘when I finally drift into a hospice or a care home – a very luxurious one, mind – to have a large notice printed that I can carry with me everywhere—’
‘So long as you remember to pick it up,’ Tony interjected.
‘To go round my neck, then. Or be tattooed on my forehead. This man played opposite Vanessa Redgrave. This man starred with the young Colin Firth. Any road up, as my Midlands friends say, clearly this morning at least Dodie’s marbles had made a welcome, if temporary return. And she wants to know how the little rat went on its unauthorized journey.’
I could think of another, larger rat who had made an unauthorized journey, but asked quietly, ‘Did you mention my hidden camera idea?’
Tony nodded. ‘With reluctance, I might add. Because though she was with us today, she might not be tomorrow.’
‘All the more reason to protect her, then, surely. Is she likely to have told anyone else about her little safe?’
‘Who knows? What a tragedy, to have those lovely things and not to wear them or have them on show. Not even to be able to see them without help.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘We all have to leave behind things we’ve treasured, and I believe we won’t miss them one scrap in the Afterlife, but at least I’ve got the pleasure of knowing that my family will inherit and treasure them. As you do, Griff.’ He smiled at us in turn as we clasped hands briefly. ‘But Dodie doesn’t like her relatives particularly. We at the church understood they visited her regularly, but she assures us that they don’t. Assuming she doesn’t forget them the moment they drive away.’
‘So why not leave her netsuke collection, say, to a museum?’ I asked. ‘And her jewellery to be auctioned for her favourite charity? It’s only convention that stuff should stay in families. Actually, in her place I’d go one better: I’d give it now, so I
could go and see it in place.’
‘Like those medieval rings you found,’ Griff said with a smile.
‘Almost. They never really belonged to me in the first place. Meanwhile, now she trusts you, couldn’t you fetch out her goodies each time you see her so she has the pleasure of them for a short time at least? You’ve got the keys, after all.’
‘And who would the finger of suspicion point at if anything else disappeared?’ Tony asked, setting down his coffee cup rather hard.
‘But if she had the camera in place …?’
‘She did seem quite happy with the idea. Couldn’t you discuss the problem with Moira – she’s the person with responsibility for our vulnerable adults policy, my love,’ he added in an aside.
Tony nodded agreement. ‘Of course. I’ll report back after church on Sunday. And I’d better mention it to Lydia, too – as senior churchwarden she likes to keep her finger on the pulse, Lina. But she might want to pull the whole problem to the entire PCC.’
Decision by committee, in other words. Griff stifled a groan.
‘With all due respect,’ I said, ‘I don’t think you should wait that long. Each time a carer or relative visits, there’s an opportunity for him or her to steal something. I know that little rat is dye-marked, but it’s like the police having DNA samples – they don’t count as evidence until someone with the matching DNA turns up. Why not phone Moira now? I’ll leave you to it,’ I said, returning to the little shepherdess with a missing hand.
But I’d only just worked out the proportions I’d need to build a new one when Griff asked me to join them again.
‘My dear one, Moira says we should act today, while she’s compos mentis. She’ll tell Lydia at an opportune time. And since you’re the only one of us who knows how to set up the camera …’
Punctiliously but painfully easing herself from her chair, Dodie shook my hand. But she retained it, staring at my face, first from one angle, then another. ‘I’ve never met you, Griff tells me, but I certainly know that face of yours. Dear me, I really am gaga, aren’t I? What a thing to say!’
I squeezed her fingers reassuringly. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll explain about the face. There. Comfortable? You’re not mad. We’ve never met. But maybe you once met my father, Lord Elham. People say we’re incredibly alike, though I can’t say either of us can see it – and neither of us feels terribly flattered.’
Still holding my hand, she closed her eyes. ‘Bossy Elham. You’re never his daughter.’ She looked at me searchingly again. ‘You are, though, aren’t you? Dear me, I hope you don’t take after him. What a dear scoundrel he was. What my father called a loose screw. But Griff tells me you live here in the village with him. You’re his partner. Dear child, isn’t that a bit of an age-gap, if you’ll forgive me asking?’
Behind me, Tony gasped. I’d have expected Griff to roar with laughter but he was curiously silent. ‘Not that sort of partner,’ I said. ‘He’s my business partner – and my adoptive grandfather. He took me on as his apprentice when no one else would have touched me with a bargepole.’
‘And now she’s got an international reputation for art restoration,’ Griff said proudly.
‘Goodness me. And what does Bossy make of that?’
‘You could ask him if you like. If you’re old friends, would you like me to bring him over to see you?’
Blow me if she didn’t blush. ‘No … Seeing me like this …’ Perhaps the word friend had been the wrong one. Pa wasn’t known for long-term platonic relationships, after all. Forty, even thirty years ago, those faded but delicate features must have been stunning, and Pa wouldn’t have worried one jot about being a toy boy, would he?
‘Would you like me to send your regards?’ I asked, hoping the word was appropriate.
She looked as if the notion exhausted her.
It didn’t take me very long to find a good place for the radio, which had the bonus of actually working quite independently of its clever little gizmo, which I focussed on the table with all the gee-gaws on. Its range also meant it would ensnare anyone tampering with the photos on the piano – all in good solid silver frames, after all – and the fake electric socket safe.
I explained that one of us would need to return regularly to check the footage, but by now she seemed too weary to take in very much. Surprising myself, I kissed her goodbye.
‘Bossy’s daughter,’ she murmured, almost asleep. But then her eyes shot open. ‘That crap on the table.’ From such old lips the word jarred. ‘The wife of one of my children thought it made the place look more homely. A year or so ago I’d have had the strength to argue. But I don’t want to make matters worse between her and my son, stupid boy. Crap.’ She made a wafting gesture with her left hand, and, still murmuring, did indeed sink into a doze.
EIGHT
Spencer’s arrival in the village hall dancing class was like a fine young rooster turning up in a run of moulting hens, his modest good looks and decent enough figure turning heads a lot more grown-up than mine – but not, of course, mine. So when Griff announced that his back was hurting and he might need to sit out the rumba, I warned him in no uncertain, though very quiet, terms, that if he did he might have a couple of bruised shins to worry about, too. Genuinely bruised shins – where I’d kicked them. It was either that, I pointed out, or me lose my nicely painted toenails: Spencer was trampling all over his own feet, and threatened Dee’s too when she tried to help him. All the old dears insisted that the rumba was a very tricky dance, with its awkward timing, and he’d soon pick it up, but none of them offered to partner him to demonstrate the steps. Perhaps they were put off by his cologne, which was what Griff might describe as shouty.
Spencer was wondering aloud if we all adjourned to the Pig and Whistle after our exertions. I put a firm hand on Griff’s chest: ‘Don’t even think about it,’ I hissed. ‘I’ve got that saucer to unglue tonight.’
‘The work of moments, surely, my love. He seems a nice young man – it’s a shame to be unsociable.’
‘You go, then, with Arthur and Jenny. And see how long he stays.’
He stared at me for a minute. ‘Very well. I will.’
Oh, dear. Griff and his penchant for young men. ‘I’ll have supper ready for eight forty-five,’ I said. ‘And not a minute later. Or you won’t sleep, will you?’ I added unkindly.
I wondered, as I headed home, if I might be cutting my nose off to spite my face. I might object to being so crudely set up, but I did enjoy the girls’ company and snubbing Spencer like that might offend them. Too late to worry now – I needed to start cooking the brown rice.
It dawned on me rather belatedly that if anyone was going to check on the hidden camera footage, that person was going to have to be me. Griff never had got the knack of it, usually managing to simply wipe everything. But I wouldn’t, indeed couldn’t, go anywhere near Dodie’s Aladdin’s cave without a chaperone, which meant either Griff or Tony. We also had to work round the carers’ visits, which seemed to be rather randomly timed. Sometimes she was up and dressed by seven-thirty in the morning; once or twice we found her still in bed at eleven, weeping with hunger and embarrassment. If there was ever a way to make a sometimes flaky old person thoroughly bewildered, that was surely it.
The first piece of footage showed that the radio had drawn the attention of one of the carers at least. It seemed there was some brief discussion about whether Dodie wanted it switched on; apparently she didn’t. We reminded her that the camera worked even when its host was belting out Classic FM, but that was one piece of information she didn’t seem able to grasp or remember. Or perhaps she simply didn’t like the radio.
Griff and I debated endlessly as to whether we should tell Pa about her. Griff was more concerned with Dodie’s welfare than with Pa’s need to know, and he pretty much vetoed a visit, a point I was disinclined to argue. However, I did remind him that Pa was lucid these days, apart from when he decided he might as well finish off a bottle of bubbly he’d ope
ned only that afternoon. But he only did that when he thought I wouldn’t be going round to check up on him; the occasional unannounced visit worked wonders. Meanwhile, he was long overdue a visit, probably because I really didn’t want to talk about the Harvey business and had needed another topic of conversation to divert him.
I’d no idea how he’d take the news I’d come across one of his old flames, so I took a bottle of what he always called ‘shampoo’, just in case he was upset. He listened intently, sipping slowly and nodding with great sadness when I told him her situation.
‘She was so lovely,’ he breathed at last. ‘So very beautiful. And so very reluctant.’
Probably because she was so very married, I thought – but then I’d never experienced the louche society that had been Pa’s milieu. Thoroughly lower middle class, that was me.
‘And you say she remembered me? Even if just for a minute? Look, Lina, you know these things. What if I sent her some flowers? For old times’ sake?’
‘I can’t think of anything better,’ I said truthfully. ‘Do you want an Interflora job or do you want yours truly to do the honours?’
‘Interflora wouldn’t work if she’s unable to answer the door, would it?’ he retorted sharply. ‘Find a nice pot to sell and use the proceeds.’
‘There’s still about two hundred and fifty pounds left over from the Guangxu fish bowls. Maybe more.’
‘Very well. Spend some of it on flowers and some on getting her tarted up a bit: hair, nails, that sort of thing. They let themselves go, these old people,’ he declared, without irony. ‘I can’t visit her if the place smells, mind.’
‘Let’s not cross that bridge yet, Pa. She’s not well and she may not want visitors – even you. But I promise,’ I added as his face fell, ‘that I’ll talk to her about the possibility. Now, I’d like you to do something for me. You and Titus. And it’s so legit it might even get you a reward.’
Guilty as Sin Page 6