The Boat House

by Pamela Oldfield

  ‘Yes. A bit like the rest of the garden – unimaginative.’

  ‘It must look a bit thin.’ She glanced up as Agatha appeared to ask if they would like tea and sandwiches.

  Ivy said firmly, ‘Not if it’s fish paste.’

  Agatha forced a smile. ‘It’s cucumber or egg and cress.’

  ‘We’ll have some of each then. Thank you, Agatha.’ She smiled at Richard and added pointedly, ‘Isn’t that wonderful? They’re making us some sandwiches! They look after us very well here, you see. Tea in the garden. Just like old times!’

  When they were alone again, Richard said, ‘Mother wants you to come home with me, Nan. Are you up to such a long sea journey?’

  Ivy closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. When she opened them Richard could see tears glistening and offered her his large, clean, well-ironed handkerchief. She whispered, ‘I would travel in a hot-air balloon if I had to!’

  He said guiltily, ‘We didn’t intend to leave you here, you know, Nan, but the news was so bad and everyone was distracted by Leonora’s disappearance and then, when we did try to contact you, no one knew where you were. Later, when we heard that Neil had been killed, we worried afresh and . . .’

  Ivy was shaking her head. ‘They wouldn’t have known where I was. When I left The Poplars I went to stay with an old friend but almost immediately she fell ill and I nursed her for months but she died. I was put out on the street by the bailiffs because I had no money! Can you imagine that?’ She sighed heavily. ‘The Sutton Ladies Group were notified by the police who found me wandering in a state of shock – and they rescued me.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘When they said I was reasonably fit, they brought me here.’ Her glance rested briefly on Nesta who was bringing the sandwiches. Raising her voice a little she said, ‘I know I’m crotchety but I’m not ungrateful. These people saved my life and my sanity, Richard. I can never thank them enough. They exist on donations, you know. Entirely on donations!’

  Richard immediately grasped her meaning and said, ‘Is that so? Then my family will want to contribute. I shall write to them at once.’

  Nesta gave him a brilliant smile as she set out the refreshments on a small table and retired to give them back their privacy.

  He said, ‘They will be delighted to support the group. Thank you for suggesting it. But back to what we were talking about. Forgive this question, but can you walk unaided?’

  ‘Walk? Sure I can walk . . . but slowly.’ She smiled. ‘I rarely run, mind you! I can talk and eat and remember things from years ago. My hearing’s good but my sight’s failing a little. Otherwise I’m a fully functioning woman of seventy-one . . .’ She lowered her voice. ‘And when I die, if I die here, it will be of boredom!’

  Richard had the grace to look suitably crushed. ‘I’m only asking because the journey may not be easy. The Atlantic is prone to storms and . . .’

  ‘I’d like to go home, Richard,’ she pleaded softly. ‘I want to end my days in America.’ Her shoulders went back as she straightened up. ‘If I have to, I’ll swim the damned Atlantic!’

  Richard held out his hand. ‘Then hey! Let’s shake on it, Nan!’ he said huskily. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal!’

  EIGHT

  The following day Richard returned to Donald Watson’s office and told them about his visit to Ivy Busby. They listened attentively to all he had to tell them and afterwards an intense silence descended as they each considered what had been learned, if anything, from the visit.

  Donald glanced at his cousin and she said, ‘I know what you’re thinking. The same thing occurred to me.’

  They both looked at Richard.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘Ivy Busby seemed willing enough to travel back with us. She still has her wits about her and can walk, although . . .’

  ‘Not the nanny,’ said Donald. ‘The rose bed.’

  Richard stared from one to the other then frowned. ‘What about it?’

  ‘We could be wrong,’ Judith said hastily.

  ‘Certainly we could . . . but suppose we’re right?’ Donald turned to Richard who still had no inkling of what they were suggesting. ‘It’s a fairly common thing that . . .’ He took a deep breath. ‘To be blunt, when someone is murdered the body is often buried close to . . .’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Richard leaped to his feet, knocking his chair backwards in his panic. ‘You surely don’t think . . . I mean, you surely don’t imagine that my sister’s body is . . .’

  Judith said, ‘Please sit down, Richard. We are only speculating. That’s what we do here. We have to look at every possibility. We have to look at the black side as well as the bright side.’

  ‘Sorry. Yes, of course but . . .’ Slowly, looking somewhat dazed, Richard sat down, his pale face reflecting his shock. ‘You’re thinking someone in the family murdered her? My God!’

  Donald said, ‘As Judith said, we have to consider every possibility. We may be completely wrong but we may have just stumbled on the truth.’

  ‘But who would do such a thing?’

  Judith frowned. ‘It could have been an accident, I suppose.’

  ‘Then why hide the fact?’ Richard demanded. ‘Why make things so much worse? I can assure you that Neil would never agree to such a plan. Bury his beloved Leonora in the family garden after an accident! Never!’

  Donald said thoughtfully, ‘There’s another possible scenario. Could your sister have taken her own life? In which case the family would have panicked . . .’

  ‘Don’t! Don’t!’ he begged. Horrified, Richard covered his face with his hands.

  Donald and Judith exchanged worried looks. Richard was young and still vulnerable. For a while no one spoke.

  When at last Richard looked up he said hoarsely, ‘Not the Leonora I knew. She would never deliberately leave the twins . . . and she loved life. But if that woman drove her to it . . .’ He gulped in another breath. ‘I’ll see that Georgina Matlowe spends the rest of her life behind bars!’

  Judith said stoutly, ‘From what we hear, if I had been your sister, I’d have been tempted to murder Mrs Matlowe!’

  ‘Judith!’ Donald glared at her. ‘Don’t talk like that, please. We are supposed to remain impartial. Impartial. Gather the facts of the matter and hand them over to whoever needs them.’

  There was another uncomfortable silence.

  At last Richard said, ‘So we are thinking that just maybe Leonora might have been driven to suicide and to hide the scandal she was buried under what was the rockery? That’s terrible!’

  Judith said, ‘You will surely admit it has to be considered.’

  Richard whispered, ‘Suicide! I can’t believe it . . . but if she was driven to it . . .’ He shook his head. ‘That would mean that Neil and his mother-in-law colluded to hide the death. I cannot believe that.’

  ‘Maybe to shield the twins?’ Judith sighed and glanced at Richard. ‘I’m beginning to wish that you hadn’t reopened the case.’

  ‘Damned right!’ he muttered unhappily.

  Donald said, ‘I’m sorry, Richard, but I’m duty bound to pass this on to DS Ackrow – just in case there is anything in it. If someone dug up the rockery, it has to be a possible lead. I agreed to liaise with the police at the beginning of the enquiry and I’d be failing in my duty if . . .’

  Richard said, ‘And he might want to . . . to exhume the . . . Damnation!’

  They each avoided the other’s eyes.

  Judith said, ‘If they follow this up I don’t see how it could be done without alerting Mrs Matlowe to our suspicions.’ She looked at her cousin. ‘Could it be done without her knowledge? The digging, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t see how.’

  Richard said, ‘Unless we could get her out of the house on some pretext?’ Richard continued eagerly, ‘Then if we’re wrong she need not have to be antagonized. If I’m to get permission to take the twins back with me to America, I’d rather not make an enemy of her if it isn’t necessary. She’s difficult enough a
lready and she could fight me in the law courts for the children. I wouldn’t put it past her.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘This can’t be happening!’

  Judith said, ‘We could be wrong, Richard, but if you want to know the truth . . .’ But she sounded less than convincing.

  ‘What I want is to find her alive and well!’ he protested. ‘When I decided to come over here I was clinging to that thought. I didn’t even allow myself to consider the alternatives.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘Should we give up before it’s too late?’

  Donald said, ‘That’s up to you entirely. We’ll follow your lead.’

  ‘Haven’t the twins had enough bad news in their short lives?’ Richard looked desperately from Donald to Judith. ‘To grow up knowing what we do know is bad enough, but if their mother killed herself or was murdered . . .’

  Baffled, Donald held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Please. Let’s call a halt for the moment. I suggest we sleep on it and make contact first thing tomorrow. We might see it differently. But if it still seems suspicious – that is, the rockery being dug up – and if a crime may have been committed, I shall have to notify DS Ackrow or I could be charged with withholding evidence or misleading or impeding the police.’

  ‘This is all my fault.’ Richard sighed deeply then nodded. ‘I’ll accept that because I have no alternative. Sure – we’ll sleep on it.’

  And there, reluctantly, they left it.

  Meanwhile the young smiling receptionist came into the doctor’s waiting room and said, ‘Mrs Georgina Matlowe?’

  Georgina rose slowly to her feet but Ida sprang up beside her.

  Georgina glared at her. ‘I’ve told you – I don’t need a chaperone, Ida!’

  ‘Yes you do, dear. We’ve already discussed this. I’m coming in with you so don’t start to argue again.’

  The receptionist smiled tolerantly, obviously used to this kind of exchange. ‘Your friend is welcome, Mrs Matlowe. Dr Hammond-Green has no objection.’

  Georgina counted to ten, heaved a deep sigh and gave in. It was too humiliating to stand arguing with Ida while other waiting patients listened with interest. She hadn’t wanted to see this doctor, nor any other doctor, but Ida had made the appointment and she could not afford to upset her sister. Not at a time like this when Richard Preston was trying to stir up troubles best forgotten. She needed Ida for support even though her sister’s imperious manner frequently grated on her.

  Dr Hammond-Green – plump and bewhiskered – was brisk and to the point and wasted no time with idle chat about the weather but asked her at once to describe the incident that had first alarmed her.

  Georgina had planned the answer to this question.

  ‘I suspect it was an unfortunate culmination of events,’ she told him, silently praying that her sister would not contradict her version. ‘I have a very busy life with my two grandchildren and now their uncle is over from America and our quiet routine has been overturned by his enthusiasm. I feel quite exhausted each morning when I wake and am finding it difficult to cope. I felt a little dizzy and someone helped me to . . .’

  ‘You fainted!’ Ida corrected her sharply.

  ‘I thought I might faint but . . .’

  ‘You fainted!’

  ‘I was helped to a seat and . . .’

  ‘You fainted, and Richard caught you just before you fell. You might have injured yourself otherwise.’ She turned to the doctor. ‘Georgina clutched her arm as she fell and afterwards complained of a pain . . .’

  The specialist worked steadily throughout the next quarter of an hour. He checked her heart and lungs, discussed her medical history and silently studied his findings while Georgina glared at her sister with resentful eyes and a tightly pursed mouth. If the wretched man concluded that she had a heart problem she would blame it on Ida who had dragged her here against her will. It was perfectly predictable that, with the odious Richard Preston around the house, charming all and sundry, she would feel worried and upset. It was bound to affect her. When he left, which she hoped would be soon, she knew she would recover. There was no need for this ridiculous fuss.

  He glanced up eventually. ‘I am rather concerned,’ he told her with a smile that she presumed was intended to soften the news. ‘There is some irregularity and I don’t think you should ignore it. Nothing to worry about unless you neglect it.’

  As if on cue, Georgina felt her heart rate increase but she tried to ignore it, telling herself that the doctor was deliberately trying to frighten her. Ida was giving her a triumphant look, delighted to be proved right.

  Ida said, ‘So, Doctor, was it a minor heart attack?’

  Georgina felt like strangling her.

  He put his head on one side, choosing his words carefully. ‘Maybe a very minor one but no cause for immediate panic, Mrs Matlowe. I’d like to discuss this with Mr Prendergast at Barts Hospital. We may well be able to put your mind at ease but, if not, he can organize the required treatment.’ Ignoring her stammered protest, he continued. ‘I’ll book you in for a full morning of tests and he will contact you by letter with the date and time of the appointment.’ He smiled. ‘You were wise to come and see me, Mrs Matlowe. Any problem of this kind is best discovered at an early stage.’

  Ida beamed. ‘I’ll come with you, dear, and afterwards I shall take you out to lunch at the Dorchester and then we’ll do some shopping in Bond Street or Regent Street – wherever you fancy. We’ll make a whole day of it.’ She rose to her feet, a hand outstretched towards the doctor who shook it warmly.

  Furious that she had lost control of events, Georgina could barely mutter a ‘thank you’ to the specialist and she left the room with a face like thunder. She bitterly regretted allowing her sister to become involved but it was too late now. She was eager to get back to The Poplars and see what Marianne and the children were doing in her absence. Hopefully the governess was not allowing them to skip their lessons. It had not escaped her notice that Richard Preston seemed a mite too friendly with Marianne and that friendship, she knew, must be nipped in the bud before it became a problem.

  Dear Alice, wrote Marianne, that same evening. I am sorry to hear that your mother’s rheumatism is no better. I suppose it is one of the perils of growing old . . . It must make her very miserable but maybe the new doctor will be able to help her.

  Pleased also to hear from you. It was like an echo of the normal world whereas my life here is becoming increasingly disturbing. The twins’ uncle (young and charming) has arrived from America and plans to take the twins back to see their American grandparents if Mrs Matlowe will allow it . . .

  She glanced out of the window at the garden while she waited for inspiration. At the far end the boat house lurked darkly and beyond it, on the river, a boat horn sounded eerily on the night air. She tried to imagine the regatta in bright sunshine and failed miserably.

  It is too much to expect, I think, that I shall see anything of the regatta. The Matlowe family will not be taking part as she fears the water and considers the event ‘dangerous’. Maybe she’s right. I cannot imagine Emmie or Edie sitting still for long in a small boat even if we hired one – they are definitely fidgety and would soon get bored . . .

  She wondered if Richard Preston would take the opportunity to enjoy one of England’s popular society events. If so he would hardly go alone. It was, after all, a social occasion and there was nothing sociable about being alone. Was there the slightest chance that he would ask her to accompany him, she wondered?

  Mrs Matlowe’s sister, Ida, is still here and took her to see a doctor about a recent incident when she collapsed with a pain in her heart. We have heard nothing about the doctor’s diagnosis. When she returned, she went straight up to her son’s room and stayed there for the best part of an hour.

  While she was at the doctor’s I spent some time with Donald Watson and his cousin Judith who works with him as a partner-cum-secretary. I think she approves of me because she deliberately left me alone with he
r cousin while she went out to post a letter. Donald Watson said he would miss me if I went to America with the twins – not that Richard has asked me to, and anyway he might be taking their family nanny home with him so she would probably look after them. She might even resent my presence.

  I confess I was very flattered that anyone might miss me but Donald Watson may be married so I must not read too much into his comment.

  Judith also suggested I might take her place when she leaves the agency (to have her first baby), which is food for thought – except that my secretarial skills are sadly lacking, but just in case I now spend an hour each evening working on typing and shorthand . . .

  She brought the letter to a close with the thought that no matter how strange her world was becoming, at least she was never likely to be bored!

  The next morning found Georgina on her knees before the altar in Neil’s room.

  ‘It’s Ida,’ she told him, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘I won’t allow her in here, naturally, but she is very curious. Nosy is probably the word I’m looking for. Even as a child she could never bear for me to have a secret . . . But enough about Ida. We went to see a specialist and he has made an appointment for me to see a man in Barts Hospital – but you mustn’t worry, dear. I’m sure it’s nothing . . .’

  She wondered whether to confide in him about Richard Preston’s visit to the old nanny. Delaying the decision momentarily, she said, ‘Poor Ivan has died as predicted and I am taking the girls to his funeral. It’s about time they learned about death and seeing him serene in his coffin will reassure them that there is nothing to fear.’ She thought about it. Her own feelings – her earlier fear of dying – had changed with her son’s death. Wherever he was, she would be with him and that was reassurance enough.

  Gathering her courage she said, ‘The brother has discovered the nanny’s whereabouts. I was hoping she had died by now but it seems not to be the case.’ She sighed. ‘Lord knows what she told him. She was a meddlesome woman, as you know, dear, and even now I’m sure she has told Preston a pack of lies. Oh, I know Leonora thought the world of her but, to my mind, she had too much influence in that family . . .’