by Ivan B
“Yes thank you, limited myself to two glasses of wine.”
Jenny grinned, “Which is more than can be said for Simon, he’s in a real state this morning.”
Petra’s face lit up with a gloating smile. “He polished off a bottle of red wine and quite a bit of Sherry trifle. I think Buster went overboard a bit when making that.”
Jenny remembered trying the trifle and discreetly tipping it down the nearest loo. “Thought you’d have gone for the red wine.”
Petra wondered if Jenny was trying to be friendly or trying to be spiteful. “If you must know I limited myself to two glasses because I didn’t want to embarrass Norman at his sister’s engagement party.”
Jenny absorbed the statement, closed the dishwasher and sat down. She drummed her fingers on the table top. “I can’t say that I’m thrilled about what you and Norman are up to.” She held up her hand too prevent Petra interrupting. “On the other hand you’re both adults and really I’ve no say in the matter and I guess whether I like it or not I’ll have to put up with it.” She paused and added softly, “I only ask that you don’t make a fool of him.”
Petra wondered if this was an oblique olive branch. “He might be out to make a fool out of me.” She retorted.
Jenny opened her mouth to respond and Petra interrupted, “But that’s not his style is it?”
Jenny watched her and waited, sure there was more to come. In the end Petra sighed, “Look Mrs Flosse I didn’t plan this. I know you might think that I’m some sort of scheming hussy who’s out to snare your innocent son, but that’s not the case. If anything I’m as surprised as you are that we’re in this position, you might say that he’s snared me. But I promise you that I am not out to make a fool of your son. In any case I think he’s a wonderful man and I wouldn’t want to hurt him or his family.”
Jenny noted her body language and decided that she believed what she was saying. “And when the snow goes and you leave?”
“You might as well know that we’re going to try and be a couple and see where it leads.”
“And you’re happy with that?”
“Surprisingly happy.”
Jenny decided that her son was a mystery to her. “Then you’re always welcome.”
Jenny stood up and started to peel some potatoes. After a couple of minutes Petra, despite a natural unease at cooking, started to tentatively scrape some carrots.
Julia sat on the floor and looked at the contents of the bottom of the dining room corner-cupboard. This was constructed to be identical to the one in the back-room and like its twin it had a hollow under the bottom shelf. In this void were three A4 sized brown envelopes. The first held a set of nine bearer bonds drawn on a London Bank Julia had never heard of and three little bundles of unsigned American Express Travellers cheques respectively for $25,000; £12,000 and 140,000 Norwegian Kroner. The second envelope contained a Norwegian passport, with a picture of Maria, made out to Kristana Erikson; a plane ticket from Paris to Oslo, dated three days away, and a pass book and bank statement for a Norwegian bank. The statement said that there was close on five million Kroner in the account. She held the third envelope in her hand and the same questions as yesterday flashed through her mind; is this how she wanted to live? She opened the envelope to find a number of documents in Chinese with no translation apart from the fact that the top of each page carried a small logo saying the Chinese and Hong-Kong Bank. Judging by the layout of the documents they looked like some form of bearer-bond. She glanced back to the void; lying under the envelopes were a trio of fine filigreed silver bangles that, unless she was mistaken, matched the tiny cross she had found yesterday. Lying beside these was a very small and very elegant set of black frilly underwear.
Rupert slid out from under the Mini. He was freezing cold, covered in oil and rust, and enjoying himself immensely. The actual structure of the Mini was in better condition than he expected although he doubted whether the exposed electric fuel pump would ever work again. He was just about to slide back under the Mini with a sharp screwdriver when Sarah came into focus. She was standing over him, hand on hips. She’d been about to berate him for: a) not having a boiler suit on and b) being late for lunch, when she realised that he was enjoying himself and substantially moderated her approach. “Lunch is ready. Why not give it a rest and come in to get warm?”
He blinked, gazed at his oil-stained watch and looked bemused. “Lunchtime already?”
“Definitely, and it’s getting colder.”
He scrambled to his feet, shook off the rust and grinned at Sarah, “Reckon it’s repairable. Engine turns over fine, so the bores are not rusted up. Wheels spin, so the bearings aren’t seized and there’s not too much under-body welding to be done.”
He was acting like a boy with an unbelievably good Christmas present. Sarah rubbed some rust out of his hair. “Lunch,” she said firmly. “You can tell me all about it over lunch.”
Buster padded up behind Julia, who was kneeling in front of the open dining room corner-cupboard with some documents spread out in front of her. He squatted down beside her, she looked miserable and drawn. She pointed at the papers, “Maria must have been planning a runner. Passport, Norwegian bank book, traveller’s cheques, air tickets and some Chinese documents, money I think in some sort of fund.”
Buster riffled through them, “Well I’m blowed, she showed no sign of splitting from Jeremy, as I said they always appeared to trust each other implicitly.”
He glanced at Julia and held her hand, “What’s up.”
“The cupboard next door, it’s got drugs under the bottom shelf.”
Buster stared at her for a few seconds, “You sure? No of course you’re sure, sorry. I didn’t know. I knew they were into skimming casino takings and possible bending a few roulette wheels in their favour, but drugs, no.”
“Did they…?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
He looked into her eyes, she had that same look as the day before, when he’d almost lost her. “There’s more to it than that isn’t there?”
She nodded and looked fit to cry. “I can’t cope with all this. I can cope with gaining from the past and I can reconcile myself to living off of their money and in their house, but I can’t cope with all these extra bits and pieces. Those photographs, the drugs, the thought that you might still be involved with something shady.” She swallowed, “The thought that somewhere out there there’s a man who killed…”
She tailed off into silence. Buster put his arm around her, she didn’t shrug him off. “I promise you,” he said solemnly, “that I’m not involved in anything shady now that those two have passed away. I promise you that anything we find, like those drugs, I will throw away.” He paused. “I promise that I will protect you as far as I am able, though now I don’t believe there’s anyone to protect you from.”
He took a very deep breath. “And if you want we’ll walk away from this place and their money. If that’s what it takes for me to keep you, I’d walk away tomorrow and never come back.”
He felt her shudder and then relax. “Do you really mean that?” She queried.
“Every word.”
“You’re not just saying it to keep me quiet?”
He chuckled, “Not worth the risk, then I might lose you and I don’t mind losing the money – easy come easy go – but I’m not losing you.”
She leant against him for a few moments. “What do you mean there’s ‘no one to protect me from?’”
He fished Maria’s organiser out of his back packet. “Woken up her organiser. It’s forgotten the password and it’s forgotten the encryption routines, so as far as we’re concerned all the data on the wretched thing is just garbage. However, she hadn’t encrypted the last diary entry. I guess you have to type it in English and then run it through the routine to store it in coded format.”
He tapped its screen and passed it over. “Read for yourself.”
She squinted at the screen. “J showed me the pics of FS, t
hey made me feel sick, after all I’d slept with the man. Fed up with Js schemes and his endless quest for more money. Looking forward to next week and being with QQ at least he seems to love me. J seems oblivious to my plans, then he’s become so self-centred he wouldn’t notice if I turned orange. Hope the helicopter lands, I really need to get out of here and leave J behind. I want a life, not a …”
Julia read it to herself again. “She was interrupted.”
“Reckon that’s when she slipped it into the back of the settee, didn’t have time to finish and encrypt.”
“Any idea what happened?”
Buster shrugged, “He obviously didn’t find this little lot, or it would have been all over the floor when we arrived. He might have dragged he in here because he knew what she was up to, if so she could have grabbed the ornament on the way.”
Julia pointed to the bangles, “They match the cross I found yesterday, do you think he found it and put two and two together?”
Buster shrugged, “Guess we’ll never know. But I do believe that, unlikely as it is, they killed one another.”
She gazed at him, apprehension in her eyes. “Sure?”
“As far as I can be. Wasn’t any of your family. Petra’s too skinny to overpower them both, Simon’s too much of a coward and Daniel’s only concerned about his drug supply.” He decided to leave out the bit about Daniel and the £100,000. “The only others are Jill, that engine driver and Rupert. I’ve no doubt that he’s strong enough, but don’t reckon he has the ability or the inclination and the two women don’t have a motive and they’re too small.”
He watched her face and half whispered, “So shall I start to put my things in a suitcase?”
She flung her arms around him, “Don’t you dare,” she croaked.
He whispered, “And this place?”
She squeezed him and he felt as if his rib-cage was going to break. “We’ll stay, but believe me we’re changing the furniture.”
He relaxed. He liked living here and the prospect of living here with Julia made it all the more attractive.
Chapter 23
Home Thoughts
Simon looked woefully out of the lounge window and Mark turned on the television. “At least there’s cricket from Australia.”
“Not in real time,” muttered Simon. “England were all out for sixty three and forced to play on. They were at twenty-six for five when rain stopped play.”
Colin laughed, “Looks like the rugby from Ireland then, that is in real time and Italy have been awesome this winter.”
Mark glanced at Simon. “Come and sit down, if the weather forecast is to be believed you’ll be away within thirty-six hours.”
Norman entered, followed by Harry, they flopped onto the settee. Norman sighed, “Rugby? What about the cricket?”
“Washout,” gloated Colin, “So it’s rugby.”
“Does Jill like rugby?” Asked Mark teasingly.
“She will,” muttered Mark, “she will.”
All the women were gathered in the kitchen. Jenny passed around a plate of biscuits and all declined, except Harriet, who took another chocolate finger. Jill gave her a motherly frown and Jenny laughed, “Leave her be, she needs the calories in this weather, besides reading is hard work.”
Harriet looked up and grinned before once again returning to the pages of Sheep-pig. Jill rolled her eyes, “Read anything that one,” and ruffled Harriet’s hair. Harriet squirmed and buried herself deeper in her book..
Petra sipped her weak tea. “Thought about the wedding yet?”
“No time. Be sooner rather than later though, no point in waiting.”
The obvious happiness on Jill’s face made Petra temporarily envious, she then realised that she had never, ever, been envious of any of her friends who’d got married. So was there something special about Jill or was the change in her? Jenny sighed, “Be good to have a wedding in the family.”
She caught an anxious glance from Jill and reached out and patted her hand, “Don’t worry love I won’t interfere.”
Jill flashed her a smile, “It’s not you Mrs Flosse it’s my parents. I can’t not tell them, but once I do my mother will go into overdrive.”
“Call me Jenny dear. And your father?”
Jill writhed in her seat, “He’s always said that I should marry a good Indian boy.”
“Has he met Colin?”
“Once, but he didn’t know we were going out, I told him Colin was a work colleague.”
There was something in Jill’s voice. “And?” asked Petra now quite curious.
“And he said that if I was even thinking about going out with Colin without his approval then I would bring shame on the family.”
Petra’s thin eyebrows rose, “Did he mean it?”
Jill shrugged, “I don’t know. He said it in that half-joking way that men do.”
Jenny smiled from ear to ear, “It allows them a way of withdrawing with honour.”
She put her hand on her heart and a surprised expression on her face, “Oh I didn’t mean it, I was only joking!”
They all laughed and Harriet looked up from her book, “Well I think granddad’s nice. He’s never been mean to me.”
She buried her nose back in her book. Petra gazed across the kitchen out through the window into the frozen landscape. Had this weather been a blessing to her, or a curse? “What about Julia? I suppose they’ll have a grand wedding.”
Jenny shook her head, “She want’s Rupert and our little church here, but goodness knows when. It’s all a bit sudden.”
Jill caught the overtone. “I’m sorry Mrs Flosse. Oops I mean Jenny, if we sort of sprang it on you but…”
Jenny, once again, patted her hand. “Not your fault, blame it on his father. Men can be awfully stubborn when they get a bee in their bonnet.”
Petra knew that she was referring to her husband. “So how, “she asked, “do you cope?” She was wondering about Norman, was he like his father?
Jenny grinned and leaned forward. Harriet stopped reading and concentrated on listening, after all Colin was soon to be her step-father. Jenny’s voice lowered to a subtle tone. “Well it’s all a matter of coming at them lateral like. Head on ’s no good, too much pride at stake, but if you can creep up on them by…”
Julia packed the last of Jeremy's shirts into yet another bin-bag. “That’s the lot.”
She counted, “Twenty-one big-bags and two sport’s bags stuffed to the gills.”
“Right,” said Buster, feeling slightly nervous. “I’ll put this lot in the roof-space, then we take them to charity shops one at a time over a number of months, OK? And never the same charity shop, stuff’s too identifiable for words.”
Julia caught the edginess in her voice, “Surely it doesn’t matter, nobody goes around charity shops comparing the goods.”
Buster swallowed, “The police do. Having a letter from Jeremy putting me in charge of the house and bank account is one thing, disposing of his clothes is quite another.”
Julia sighed, “It’s such lovely stuff, shame none of it is our size.”
She caught his eye and decided to give in. “OK, we’ll revert to your suggestion and burn the lot, but I tell you it’ll be on my conscience for months.”
Buster pointed to the small pile of bank notes, “How about we double the money we found in his jackets and donate it to the Red Cross?”
“Treble.”
“Deal.”
The carried the bags downstairs and for the second time in a few days one of the Trembine Halt residents had a large bonfire. They stood warming themselves by the fire as Buster steadily added bags to the fire as soon as it was in danger of burning down. He threw the last bag on after about forty minutes. Each one burned well as he had doused the contents of each bag with a pint of paraffin. “Anything else you want to burn?” he offered, half joking. “Don’t say the drugs; they’ve already gone on the fire, together with the photographs and Maria’s Norwegian passport and plane tic
kets, plus all the plane tickets for their escape to Portugal.”
Julia watched the flames, “Could we burn that ghastly modern oil painting that hangs in the dining room?”
Buster almost hiccuped at the he thought. “It’s supposed to be worth a small fortune.”
She shrugged, “You’d never sell it for fear of being accused of fraud and I can’t stand it.”
He trudged inside, lifted the painting from the wall and trudged back outside. He threw the painting onto the flames. It burnt well. “Anything else?”
She tucked her arm into his, “No, that’s enough for one night.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and they stared into the flames. Suddenly Julia said softly, “That’s their past going up in flames, not ours. Their past, their way of life, their scheming, their unhappiness. It’s time for a new start.”
Buster reached into his pocket and pulled out a passport. “Spare,” he mumbled, “won’t need it now.”
He tossed it onto the flames and was rewarded by an affectionate squeeze on his arm
Sarah stooped over and scraped a half pound of freshly cooked, but tepid, mince into Hoof’s dog bowl. He eyed it suspiciously, sniffed it, eyed Sarah and then gobbled it down. Rupert, somewhat bewildered, looked on. She straightened up. “There’s no dog food left and that little lot was almost a month past it’s sell by date. If I left it you’d probably eat it when I wasn’t looking, so it’s better off in the dog.”
Hoof wagged his tail and thoroughly agreed.
Norman led Petra along the top corridor and into a tiny garret that held nothing but three ageing armchairs and an upside down tea-chest. “Used to be our hidey-hole when we were young.”
Petra looked around, “Thought there were four of you.”
“Julia used to sit on a bean-bag, it got thrown out last year, mice took a fancy to it.”
“Mice!”
“All gone.”
They sat down in two of the armchairs that were side on to each other. “What we doing up here,” she asked, giving an involuntary shiver.