BONE BABY: chilling emotional suspense with a killer ending

by Diane M Dickson

  As if in answer to her thoughts she saw movement beyond the translucent glass in the door, someone walking along the path. She ran to the window and leaned close to the thin blind. The scene outside was vague and smeary. She lifted the corner of the blind and peered out. She was too late, whoever it was had moved beyond her field of vision and under the porch. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited for the bell to ring.

  Chapter 43

  “Terry. Come in, why are you here? In Southsea, I mean?” She didn’t want to lie, but he must be kept at arm’s length from the crime. Having no knowledge or suspicion was the only thing that would keep him safe. She was entering yet another world of subterfuge and she hated this one even more than the others. Clive had been evil, Terry was courageous and didn’t deserve dishonesty, but it was for his own good.

  “I came to see you. I can’t stay long but I thought I’d better come in person and let you know.”

  “I got the impression it was something urgent. Sandra next door told me you’d called earlier.”

  “I think you should sit down, Lily.”

  She allowed herself to be ushered through to the living room.

  “Right, well.” His face was set, there was barely controlled emotion, tension, and excitement in every part of his body. His voice shook, “He’s dead.”

  “What? Who?” More pretence, more lying.

  “Clive is dead. They rang me early this morning from the home.”

  “Well, that was sudden, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, I guess so. You were there with me, you heard them, didn’t you? They said he was improving. He certainly didn’t seem any worse when we were with him. But the thing is…”

  She gave him time.

  He spoke, quietly, “Well, I have to go and see them later of course, but they said that it was most likely a second stroke. Lily…?”

  Still she waited. The less she said the less chance there was that her tongue would trip her.

  “Do you think that what we did, what I did, caused him to have another stroke? Do you think it was my fault?”

  Her instinct was to offer reassurance, something to help, to still his nerves. She drew her brows together, answered him with a frown of puzzlement painted on her face, “He didn’t seem that upset though. He was angry, but I rather got the impression that he was often angry.”

  “Well, there’s no denying that. You’re right, that’s the way he was, always. When I did things that he didn’t agree with, ‘stepped out of line’ and ‘got above myself’.” He laughed. “That was one of his favourites! But yes, he didn’t seem any worse than normal. Do you think that, maybe afterwards, when we’d gone, maybe he got wound up?”

  Lily tried again to calm him, “But if so, wouldn’t they know? They must have checked him, surely? You know, taken his blood pressure and what have you? And then if they were concerned they would give him treatment.”

  She was caught between a chance of self-preservation and concern for Terry’s feelings of guilt. She must ease his conscience but then if they thought Clive had a stroke, did that mean there would be no questions? It seemed too good to be true. She had to speak now, find something non-committal.

  “I think sometimes these things just happen. When it’s time for the end. Will there be a post-mortem?” She had to ask.

  “Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about that. Oh, I don’t know what to think just now. I’m all over the place with how I feel. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry, never that. But it’s sudden, a shock. I wasn’t ready for this. My mind was on all the other stuff. Anyway, I have to go back now and see them. I must go and see the solicitor. He phoned me as well, they’d rung him to tell him. He and Clive were always close and he visited The Grange a lot. I just wanted to tell you. I don’t know what difference it makes to you really, knowing he’s gone. Does it help? Does it make you feel any better?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Terry. I haven’t had time to take it in.”

  “No, of course you haven’t.” As he spoke he leaned and squeezed her hand. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. I thought it was only right that I come and tell you personally. After all, we do have a sort of connection, don’t we? It’s an odd, sad connection but – well it makes me think that we have a sort of shared past.”

  “That’s a lovely thing to say, Terry, and I know what you mean, I do. I have wondered many, many times over the years, what Peter would have been like. Well, you already know that. I’ve come to see, over the last few weeks, that, if he had been like you, his brother, I would have been very proud.”

  Terry smiled at her, she thought he seemed a little abashed. He was sweet, not at all the person she had originally thought.

  “I have to get back. I haven’t had time to process much of this yet. It’s going to make a difference to a lot of things. One of them is Peter’s ashes. How would you feel now about us taking them and putting them with Mum? You know it’s an end in a way, so we could do that soon. I could even take them now if you like. It would save me a trip. I’d take you of course, afterwards. When things have calmed down a bit.”

  Her mind spun. Again, she had been shown a glimpse of something wonderful only to have it snatched away instantly. Once he believed that they had laid his brother to rest, it would be over – she didn’t want it to be over, not yet. Apart from the fact that the ashes weren’t Peter’s, there was of course the other thing, the truth. If she told him about the grave, so near to where they sat, how would he feel about her then?

  She wanted to talk to him for longer, to keep him there with her. She asked him the obvious question, “Terry, what about all of that other business, what about Peter? You and Clive? Him and your mum? The things he did. What are you going to do about that now?”

  He looked down at his feet and shook his head. “I don’t know. Again, I haven’t had time yet. I said before that I didn’t want him to die before I had the chance to have my revenge, but now, well there’s not much I can do about the way it’s turned out. I just don’t know. I’ll have to think about it once I get things sorted out a bit.”

  Lily answered him quietly, “If there is anything I can do, let me know. Keep in touch won’t you, Terry? Let me know what’s going on?”

  “Of course, I will.” He glanced at his watch. His phone rang, he wagged it in the air, mouthed an apology. She nodded and walked from the room to give him space. She stood in the hall, just beyond the door. It was the solicitor, they discussed times.

  Terry raised his voice, snapping at whoever was at the other end of the call, “I’ll get there as soon as I can, Andrew. I’m sure you realise there are things I’ve had to do. Yes, yes, I know you’re busy. I’m pretty bloody busy myself today. I’ll be a couple of hours.”

  She heard him curse under his breath as he came to find her. “Look, I’ll have to go. I’ll ring you later if I get the chance.”

  She stood in the doorway, waved to him as he strode away along the street.

  She thought of her stash of pills. Not yet, he still needed her, she couldn’t do it yet. She would know when it was time. For now, all she could do was continue with her preparations. First, though, she would go into the basement and tell Peter what had happened.

  Chapter 44

  The offices in the heart of Bath weren’t particularly imposing, but Terry had always felt intimidated when visiting Clive Robertson’s solicitors.

  When he was very young, confused and frightened by the things that were happening in his life, they made him sit on a hard chair in the corner, his feet swinging between the chair legs. He was bored and constantly afraid that Clive would suddenly whip around and fire a question at him that he would be unable to answer, and they would roar laughing at him. They drank whisky, they told jokes which he didn’t understand and afterwards, back in the bustle of the town centre, his grandfather red-faced and a little unsteady, he would breathe a sigh of relief.

  Now that he was older, more confident, he coul
d hold his own with the old man, the senior partner, but he would never be totally at ease. The spectre of the small boy watched always from the corner of the room.

  Despite the earlier phone call urging him to hurry, he was kept waiting for fifteen minutes in the reception area. When he was eventually ushered into Andrew Stoner’s office though, the old wooden desk was bare of paperwork, and Andrew stood before the tall windows which looked out onto a secluded patch of garden.

  Terry waited near the door. Neither of them spoke. When he eventually turned, the solicitor simply nodded and pointed to one of the two visitors’ chairs that were placed in front of the desk.

  Terry knew that to speak first would put him at a disadvantage. He pulled his phone from his trouser pocket and made a display of turning it off. He placed it on the wooden arm of the chair and clenched his hands together on his lap. The silence between them grew.

  Terry glanced at his watch, turned to look out of the window, and chalked up a minor victory when Stoner cleared his throat and murmured, “Right, well,” and slid open one of the desk drawers.

  He spoke again. Though his voice had roughened with age, it still held a shadow of the past and Terry felt his insides lurch. “So, this is a bad day.”

  Terry didn’t respond.

  The solicitor opened a file and laid it flat on the desk. “It was very sudden. I was shocked when they called from The Grange.”

  Terry inclined his head.

  “We were friends for a long time. I am saddened by this.”

  Again, Terry simply nodded. When it became obvious that there was going to be minimal feedback, the solicitor shrugged his shoulders and visibly attempted to settle himself.

  “Right, well. I think that over the next few weeks and months, we are going to have a fair amount of work to do. For the moment though there are just the immediate arrangements, I have instructions here about the funeral and burial.”

  “I’m surprised he’s done that,” Terry said quietly, keeping his voice steady, “when he began to recover from the first stroke, I tried to talk to him about signing some things over, making sensible arrangements. Letting me take more of the burden. But he just wouldn’t hear of it. He said he wasn’t about to die yet. Yes, I’m surprised, but I suppose it’ll make things simpler.”

  “He was more comfortable being in charge. It was his way, always.”

  “Oh yes, I’m aware of that.” Terry recognised the barbed comment but was determined not to let it annoy him. He gave a short laugh and was rewarded with a glare from the solicitor.

  “I repeat, I’ve known him a long time. We were friends. We have a long history, since before you were born. I am grieving for my friend today, Terrance, and I’d thank you to remember that. I spoke to him only yesterday. I wish I had known it would be the last time…” He shook his head, took out a large handkerchief and blew his nose.

  Terry’s mind was racing. This place, this man, were so very much a part of the pain of his childhood that he had kept his contact to a minimum. He’d done as much as he could by telephone or short, fleeting appointments, dealing with a junior partner whenever that was possible, or an assistant. He hadn’t given too much thought lately to the bond between Clive and this old man. He realised that they were probably close confidants.

  Sitting in the old-fashioned offices, he was only vaguely aware of the wrinkled face in front of him and the drone of Andrew’s words as he read out details of funeral directors to be used, the family grave, the one where his gran and mother were. It was garbled and indistinct as his attention focused on the implications of what he had just been told. Words spoken in a moment of passion and without consideration.

  He held up a hand. Andrew Stoner stopped mid-sentence, his face puzzled, his mouth a tight line. There was anger, held in check by professionalism, but there was surprise also.

  “What?” Stoner snapped out the one word as he let the paper he was holding drop to the desk, and laid his hand on top of it.

  “You spoke to him yesterday?” Terry asked.

  He huffed now with impatience and shook his head. “Look, I haven’t a lot of time, let’s just get through this. Terrance, we might as well have our cards on the table, I am well aware that you don’t like me. I know how much you resented that your grandfather placed such a great deal of trust in my opinion. I know you feel I had too much influence on his business affairs but, for now, let’s just deal with the matters at hand. There will be much to discuss in the coming weeks, but today is not the time for that.”

  Terry dismissed the rant, the words barely registered. “Why did he call you yesterday?”

  A cloud passed through the solicitor’s eyes. He tried to take back control. “That is confidential, he was my client. He was my friend.”

  “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Stoner half rose, braced his hands on the desk and then remembered himself and lowered back to the seat. “Look, we are both a little overwrought. I know your relationship with Clive was difficult at times, but today you must be in shock. You’re emotional. Why don’t we make another appointment, tomorrow or the day after? I’ll have my assistant call you.”

  “Mr Stoner, why did he call you? What time?”

  The old man made a show of glancing at his pocket watch. He tutted. “He called on a private matter.”

  “You’ve known him a long time, haven’t you? You’ve known him since before I was born?” Terry asked.

  “I worked for him since the year your mother was born. Even before that we were friends.” Andrew Stoner’s face had reddened, there was a quiver now in the knuckly fingers.

  Terry leaned forward towards the desk. “What did he tell you yesterday?”

  The office filled with silence.

  Chapter 45

  Lily snatched up the phone when Terry’s number showed on the screen. She listened to his report of the meeting with barely a comment. Only when he fell silent did she speak, “So, he just told you to leave?”

  “Yes. After I asked him what Clive had spoken to him about, he said that he didn’t have time and he had another appointment. Well, there was nothing much I could do short of making a scene. So, I had to leave.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m at home. I need to go to The Grange in a little while, but I needed to come home first. I needed to calm down. You do see what this means don’t you, Lily?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, to put it bluntly, I reckon he could have been mixed up in a lot of this. I think Clive rang him to warn him. I don’t know if he knew about me, I’m trying not to think about it too deeply because he almost certainly does now, and I’ve got to try and work with him. Oh God, I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.”

  “Terry, you haven’t done anything wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Huh, that’s easy for you to say, Lily. It’s not what it feels like from here. They were so close, he must have known about Peter. He must have known Mum was pregnant, I see now that he must have known why there was no baby afterwards. I bet he knew all of it. Everything. But more importantly, since yesterday, since Clive called him, he must know that I know.”

  She answered him thoughtfully, “I suppose a lot of it depends on how close they were. I can’t believe Clive would tell him about being Peter’s father. If he did, this solicitor would have to report it to the authorities, he’d have to. In his position, surely, he’d have to? I expect there was some sort of story, something about an affair, a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t know, I’m not convinced of that. They were close friends all the time I was growing up. Clive used to make me go with him to the office, I hated it. It frightened me, watching them together, being the butt of their jokes.”

  He paused for a moment. “Something odd though, now I think about it. Andrew never visited, he never came to the house. We didn’t see many people it must be said, but you would have thought, wouldn’t you, that a close friend like that, he’d have c
ome to see us sometimes? I wonder how much yesterday was a revelation. If Clive died from a stroke, was it anything to do with their conversation? Nothing to do with me going to The Grange at all. It’s bloody confusing.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Lily asked gently.

  “I haven’t a clue. I called you because you’re the only one who knows about all this. I can’t talk about it to anyone else. Not yet.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “Come?”

  “Yes, should I come to Bath?”

  “No, I don’t see any reason for you to do that.”

  “I will if you want me to. If you want me to come with you to The Grange, if you want me to come with you when you see him again, the solicitor.”

  “I don’t know that I can, Lily. I don’t know if I can go and see him again. Knowing that he knows. I never told anybody but you. All the time I’m in his office I’ll be wondering what he’s thinking. And wouldn’t it look a bit odd anyway? You know, no offence, but you’re not family or anything, are you?”

  It was a valid point so she let it go for the moment. “Perhaps he’s always known, Terry. Perhaps he has always known all of it, and Clive rang him to let him know the cat was out of the bag. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Oh shit. I don’t know what to do. I need to think this through.”

  “The offer is there, Terry. If you need me, I’ll come. I can stay in a hotel. I won’t put you out.”

  “For now, let’s just leave it. I’m going to The Grange in the next hour, see what the situation is there. I believe they’ve already taken Clive away. To the funeral director. Andrew arranged it.”

  She had to ask him yet again, “So, no post-mortem or anything then.”