Survivor: Only the strongest will remain standing . . .

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Yes, it must have been a strain,’ he said. ‘I suppose —’

  Lita jumped to her feet, deciding to put an end to the interview before the policeman began probing even further into Mal and Esther’s relationship. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else…’

  PC Rowland didn’t stand up immediately. His gaze drifted between her and Mrs Docherty for a few seconds, his eyes narrow and suspicious. ‘We might need you to come down to the station and make a formal statement. I’ll let you know.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Lita said.

  She led him back upstairs and through the hall. The two suitcases had been brought in and were sitting at the base of the stairs. She found herself wondering if someone, somewhere, was waiting for Esther to arrive. Maybe it was Jude. Maybe he was in his flat or a fancy hotel room with champagne on ice and… She blinked hard trying to shake the image from her head. No, she couldn’t bear to think about it.

  When they reached the front door, the constable stopped again and peered along the drive. ‘One last thing: perhaps you could point out exactly where you were when the incident took place.’

  Lita followed his line of vision. Would Mrs Gough remember where she’d been? She didn’t think so. The housekeeper had been too distracted by what was going on between Mal and Esther. Accordingly, she moved her position about ten yards closer to the house. ‘By the rhododendrons,’ she lied. ‘You see, just past the lamp. I was on my way back from the village and it looked like it was going to rain again so I was walking quickly.’

  He stared silently along the drive as if trying to mentally assess how clear a view she would have had from this point.

  She opened her mouth to add a little extra detail but then thought better of it. It was all too easy to fill a silence with a big mistake.

  Eventually he turned to her and nodded. ‘Okay. We’ll be in touch.’

  Lita went inside, closed the door and hurried back down to the basement. Everything had happened so fast, it was only just starting to sink in. What if Esther never came round? Mal could be looking at a manslaughter charge. That’s all it took, one random action and everything was changed for ever.

  Mrs Docherty stopped her preparations and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘I knew something was brewing soon as I saw them at breakfast, but this… Do you think Mrs Fury will be all right? She didn’t look good, not good at all.’

  ‘Did you know she was leaving?’

  ‘She’d have come back. She always does.’

  Lita wondered how many times Esther had walked out before. Being away at school for most of the year she hadn’t always been aware of what was going on in the house. She had, however, known that the Furys’ relationship was a complicated one, brittle and fragile and only held together by the dark legacy of Kay’s abduction.

  ‘Do you think I should call the hospital, try and find out what’s happening?’

  Mrs Docherty poured out two mugs of tea and passed one over to her. ‘It’s a bit soon yet, love. She’ll have only just got there. Oh, it’s a dreadful business, isn’t it? What if…? Well, we have to stay positive and hope for the best. That’s all we can do.’

  Lita was too restless, too anxious, to stay still. She walked around the kitchen while she drank the tea. She hoped Mal had sobered up enough to start thinking clearly. With a bit of luck – and a show of contrition – he might escape with a caution when it came to the assault on the police officer. But that was the least of his problems. If Esther didn’t survive…

  ‘Can’t you stand still for a minute?’ Mrs Docherty said. ‘You’re shredding my nerves pacing up and down like that.’

  ‘Sorry. I just need to be doing something.’ She stopped walking and leaned against the side of the table. ‘He didn’t mean to hurt Esther. It was an accident.’

  ‘Of course it was.’

  ‘But that’s not what Mrs Gough is saying.’

  ‘Yes, well, Mrs Gough must have got it wrong. Anyway, it’ll be Esther they listen to, not her.’

  Lita wondered how much of the incident Esther would even recall. Head injuries were strange things. And even if she did remember, she might prefer to tell a different version of events. A niggling doubt had entered Lita’s mind. The more she thought about it the less sure she was about what she’d actually seen, although she’d never admit this to anyone. In her experience a secret shared was a secret that was common knowledge within twenty-four hours.

  She looked at her watch – it was only one o’clock – and knew that the next few hours would pass slowly. There was a question she wanted to ask Mrs Docherty but was afraid of hearing the answer. It was on the tip of her tongue but still she hesitated. Eventually she took a deep breath and asked as casually as she could, ‘Do you know where Esther was going?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, love, no idea at all.’

  ‘Has she been seeing someone else?’

  Mrs Docherty stared at her for a moment over the rim of her mug before her gaze slid away. ‘It’s not for me to say.’

  Lita could see how uncomfortable she looked, but was that because she knew who Esther had been seeing or because she didn’t want it known that she listened to gossip about Esther’s private life? Mrs Gough was always down here, whispering in her ear, but maybe she wouldn’t have shared this particular piece of information.

  When it became obvious that Mrs Docherty’s lips were firmly sealed, Lita finished her tea and went upstairs. For a while she roamed from room to room, unable to stay still. She walked out of the front door and looked up the drive, hoping to see a taxi round the bend, a taxi with Mal in the passenger seat. But it was way too early for that. The law would keep him down the station for a good bit longer yet, maybe even until after they had talked to Esther. That could be hours, days even.

  She went back inside and climbed the stairs to her bedroom where she retrieved the slip of paper with Jude’s number on it. She could call and tell him what happened, and from his response – if he was there – she should be able to figure out the truth. But maybe now wasn’t the time for that. She dithered, unable to make up her mind. She sat down on the bed and stood up again. She went over to the window and looked outside. She gazed down at the piece of paper.

  Eventually, frustrated by her own indecision, she marched down to the hall and snatched up the phone. Doing something was better than nothing, whatever the outcome. Her hand shook a little as she pressed the receiver against her ear. She dialled the number and listened to it ring – but just like before, Jude didn’t answer. She could imagine the phone ringing in the room with the green corduroy sofa. She could see the films stacked up on the shelves, the makeshift screen hung on the wall. She sighed down the line. She let it ring for a while longer before giving up. All she could do was try again later.

  Over the next few hours, Lita called the number several times but nothing changed. She tried the hospital and was told, rather oddly she thought, that no information could currently be given out about Esther Fury.

  ‘I just want to know if she’s all right. I’m Mr and Mrs Fury’s ward, Lita Bruce. Surely you can tell me something? We’re all very worried about her.’

  But the woman on reception was adamant. ‘Sorry.’

  Lita went down to the kitchen and relayed this latest development to Mrs Docherty. ‘What do you think it means? Why won’t they tell me anything?’ She had a horrible, sickening feeling that Esther might be dead and that the hospital weren’t willing to convey this information over the phone. ‘You don’t think… What if it’s bad news?’

  ‘We’ll have to wait for Mrs Gough. There’s nothing else we can do. Try not to worry, love. It might just be that they’re concerned about the papers. You know what those reporters are like, always poking their noses into other people’s business. I mean, you could be anyone, couldn’t you? Just because you say you’re Lita Bruce doesn’t mean you are. Perhaps they’re being cautious.’

  Lita could see the logic to this, although she wasn’t completely reassured. She spent the
rest of the afternoon in a state of trepidation, pacing the house while she waited for news on both Esther and Mal. She must have covered a couple of miles by the time Mrs Gough finally returned at ten past six.

  The housekeeper came down to the kitchen full of puffed-up self-importance. She didn’t even acknowledge Lita, not so much as a glance, completely ignoring her as though she was invisible. Her news was delivered to Mrs Docherty and Mrs Docherty alone. Before proceeding she touched her brow and sighed like some B-movie actress making the most of a cameo role.

  ‘Well, you’ll be glad to hear that Mrs Fury has come through the worst. She’s not out of the woods yet, of course, but the doctors are pleased with her progress. She’s conscious, which is the main thing. Her arm is broken but that will mend in time. The head injury was the biggest worry; they’re going to keep her in while they monitor the situation, but there doesn’t seem to be too much to worry about.’

  Mrs Docherty clapped her hands and smiled. ‘That’s such good news! What a relief!’ She fussed around Mrs Gough, taking her coat, pouring her a cup of tea and settling her in a chair at the table. ‘Sit down, sit down. You must be exhausted.’

  Mrs Gough eased off her shoes. ‘It has been a long day. There’s no denying it.’

  ‘Have the police talked to Esther?’ Lita asked.

  Mrs Gough finally looked at her. She pursed her lips in that familiar fashion. ‘Yes, they most certainly have.’

  Lita waited but she didn’t elaborate. ‘So what’s happening? Mal isn’t back from the police station yet. He’s been down there for hours.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll be back any time soon.’

  Lita exchanged a quick worried glance with Mrs Docherty. ‘What do you mean? It was an accident. He didn’t mean to hurt her.’

  Mrs Gough’s expression was almost smug. She knew something the rest of them didn’t and wasn’t going to rush to break the news.

  ‘They’re not going to charge him, are they?’ Mrs Docherty asked.

  ‘I should imagine he’s already been charged by now.’

  Lita sucked in a breath. ‘But that’s not right. He didn’t do it. He didn’t push her.’

  Mrs Gough sat back, savouring her time in the spotlight. ‘I’d say that’s the least of his worries at the moment.’

  Lita’s face grew pale. ‘What do you mean?’ She stared at the housekeeper, a feeling of dread starting to creep over her. ‘What is it? What’s going on?’

  Mrs Gough left a dramatic pause, slightly lifting her chin before she made the big announcement. ‘Mrs Fury has accused him of murder,’ she said. ‘The murder of Teddy Heath.’

  52

  There was a cold, stunned silence in the kitchen. Lita opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Her head was spinning as she tried to make sense of what Mrs Gough was telling them. ‘Teddy Heath?’ she repeated hoarsely. ‘Teddy Heath?’

  The housekeeper gave a grim smile. ‘Indeed.’

  Mrs Docherty shook her head. ‘Murder? Mr Fury hasn’t murdered anyone. You’ve got it wrong. You must have. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick.’

  Mrs Gough’s expression tightened at what she probably perceived as an attack on her integrity. ‘I was there, Mrs Docherty, sitting right beside her. I heard exactly what she said. It’s a secret that she’s had to keep for way too long and now… well, after what happened today she’s not prepared to keep quiet about it any more.’

  ‘But murder?’ Mrs Docherty said, horrified. ‘And who on earth is this Heath person?’

  It was a question that Lita didn’t need to ask. It wasn’t that long since Nick Trent had been asking about him. The man her mother had talked about, fretted about, the man who had allegedly been following her. And the same Teddy – it had to be, didn’t it? – who Mal and Esther had been arguing over.

  Mrs Gough lifted and dropped her shoulders. ‘Just someone the Furys knew. It was way back, years ago, before we came to work here.’

  ‘But why would… why… I don’t…’ Mrs Docherty spluttered. ‘Mr Fury? He’d never do a thing like that.’

  ‘I’m just saying it like I heard it. And there’s no point asking me anything else because that’s all I know.’

  Lita thought this highly unlikely, but decided it was pointless to press her. Instead she left the kitchen and hurried upstairs with her knees shaking and her heart drumming in her chest. She had spent the afternoon stressing over what Esther would say to the police, but had never in a thousand years expected this. It was mad, crazy, an accusation so serious it was impossible to take in properly.

  In the library she dug out Mal’s address book from the small mahogany bureau and flicked through the pages until she came to an entry for a Lincoln’s Inn solicitor called Paul Considine. She dialled the number, hardly expecting anyone to pick up at this time of day, and was surprised when a woman answered. She asked for Mr Considine but was told he wasn’t available. Lita explained who she was and asked if he could call her back.

  ‘Of course, but it probably won’t be until tomorrow now.’

  ‘Do you know if Mr Considine is in Kent at the moment? Is he with Mal… with Mr Fury?’

  But the woman wouldn’t say. ‘I’ll let him know you called.’

  Aware that this was the best she was going to get, Lita thanked her and hung up. If Mal was being questioned in connection with a murder, then his lawyer had to be with him. She thought about going to the police station – maybe Considine was still there – but had no way of knowing if he would talk to her even if he was.

  Lita had another idea. She rushed up the stairs to her bedroom and grabbed her jeans, relieved that she hadn’t got around to chucking away the letter Nick Trent had sent. She pulled it from the back pocket and smoothed it out. Then it was back downstairs to the hall where she tapped out a beat on the table while she listened to the ringing at the other end. She had almost given up when the phone was eventually answered.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that Nick Trent? It’s Lita, Lita Bruce.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘I didn’t think you’d call. Thanks. I just wanted to apologise for —’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Lita interrupted impatiently. ‘I need to ask you something. What do you know about Teddy Heath?’

  ‘Not much. Only that he’s an actor and he was friends with the Furys. Why?’

  ‘Is he still alive?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Can you find out?’

  ‘I’ve been trying, but no luck to date. He seems to have disappeared. I think I mentioned it to you.’

  Lita felt her stomach lurch. Of course he had. She remembered now. She’d been hoping that Esther’s damning accusation was something she’d made up after her fight with Mal, a wild impetuous act of revenge – and about as far from the truth as a lie could be. Now the first glimmer of doubt crept into her mind. ‘Disappeared,’ she repeated blankly.

  ‘What’s going on? Why do you want to know about Teddy?’

  Lita wasn’t sure how much to reveal. She didn’t trust the guy, but he might be her only hope. He knew stuff about the past, perhaps more than he was telling. A few seconds passed while she tried to make up her mind.

  ‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Are you still there?’

  Lita decided to take a chance. ‘Look, something’s happened. I don’t want to go into it over the phone. Can you come here tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, I can do that. What time?’

  ‘About ten? No, hold on, we’d better make it a bit later.’ She was hoping Considine would ring in the morning and didn’t want to miss him. ‘Let’s say midday. And don’t come to the house. I’ll meet you down in the village. There’s a café there with a courtyard. It’s near the pub. Do you know it?’