‘Get out! Get out of my house,’ Molly yelled with a ferocity in her voice than no one in that room had heard from her before.
‘You attacked your own son,’ Sherry growled. ‘If that isn’t an indication that you need some help then I don’t know what is.’
‘Oh yes, I am mad, very mad indeed,’ screamed Molly, picking up another cushion and taking a step towards Sherry with it. ‘I’m so mad I could be murderous.’
Graham towed Sherry quickly down the hallway and out of the door. Molly strode behind them, roaring at them.
‘How could you, Graham? You let me think that Harvey took it, but you did. You stole it from me and let me believe . . . all those years . . . my own boy!’
Graham threw open the car door and swung his great mass inside. Molly rammed on the glass with her fist, not caring that it hurt, wishing she had the strength to break it and reach in and force him to look at her and tell her it wasn’t true.
‘How could you? How could you?’
The car started to reverse at a wild speed down the drive and out onto the road. Graham was driving before he had even fastened his safety belt on, he was so eager to escape. Molly stared after the car and she felt something in her die, choked by betrayal. She felt Harvey’s arm around her and she turned to him and sobbed on his shoulder.
‘Come on, love. I’m so sorry. I’d have let you think it was me to spare you this upset if I’d known.’
‘No, no. I’m glad I finally realised what happened.’
But Molly didn’t know if what she said was true. Her heart was breaking. For so long she had thought the thief was Harvey and she had learned to live with it. It was as if she had just found her treasures gone all over again.
She thought of the Royal Doulton statue. She knew what had happened now without a shadow of a doubt. Sherry had taken it, and her pen and the silver compact too and God knows what else had gone missing. In the midst of her anger, Molly felt a warm gentle rush of relief. She hadn’t been going daft after all. No doubt the Beardsalls would have let her think she’d been going doolally too. All the easier to shoe-horn her into Autumn Grange.
‘Let’s go and get a coffee at the Teashop on the Corner,’ she said. ‘I need to get out of the house.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Harvey, lifting up her dear hand and kissing it.
Chapter 85
When Mr Singh came into the teashop he was carrying a bag which looked very much as if it contained a book.
‘Good morning, Leni, where is young Ryan?’ he asked.
‘Stuffing his face in the back,’ replied Leni and called him. Ryan emerged with a worried expression on his face as if he had been summoned to account for some misdemeanour.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ laughed Mr Singh. ‘Ryan, I have brought you a present.’ And he held out the bag. ‘Go on, take it.’
‘What is it?’ asked Ryan.
‘If you open it, you’ll find out.’
Ryan stepped forward and took it. He opened it carefully and pulled out the book inside.
‘It’s my favourite novel of all time – Nineteen Eighty-Four,’ grinned Ryan.
‘Not only that, but a first edition, first impression, dated 1949.’
‘Mr Singh,’ gasped Leni. ‘That’s worth a lot of money.’
‘Alas, not as much as if it had been signed by Mr Orwell, who was sadly hospitalised with tuberculosis just after the book was published and never came home again. But, I suggest that you keep it safely and sell it when you need some funds for university.’
Ryan was stunned into a temporary silence.
‘I won’t sell it,’ he said eventually, holding it like the precious thing it was.
‘You have my permission to do so, though,’ replied the old surgeon.
‘Thanks loads,’ said Ryan, almost breathless with joy. ‘It’s fabulous. Can I keep it here, Leni?’
‘My safe is going to be full of your stuff,’ Leni winked at him. ‘Course you can.’
Ryan almost skipped into the back room.
‘That was a kind gesture, Mr Singh,’ said Leni. ‘Whatever you want today is on the house.’
Mr Singh pulled out his favourite chair. ‘You will never make any money, Leni, giving your cakes away.’
‘I’m sure that letting you have a slice of cake and a pot of tea today won’t bankrupt me,’ she smiled at him. ‘Now, what’s it to be? St Clements or clotted cream mousse pie?’
He was tucking into the pie when Harvey and Molly arrived.
‘So lovely to see you,’ he greeted them. ‘You look well, Harvey.’
‘I haven’t felt this good in years,’ replied Harvey, looking over to check that Molly was all right. She had been quiet in the car, still shell-shocked, he imagined. He wondered when the next instalment of trouble would be. He had no doubt that Graham and Sherry would be out mixing things up with Margaret as soon as she returned. He had that hurdle to cross yet.
He had just ordered two toasted teacakes when Carla bounced in with a broad beaming smile.
‘Someone’s happy today,’ greeted Molly.
‘I’ve been over to the shop to start moving things in,’ said Carla, the smile so big now, her lips could barely contain it. ‘I’m opening Wednesday.’
Mr Singh and Harvey applauded. ‘That’s wonderful,’ Mr Singh praised her.
‘I know,’ Carla clapped her hands together with glee.
‘I intend to be your first customer,’ said Harvey, behind his hand so Molly couldn’t hear.
‘You’d be very welcome,’ said Carla. She was hungry this morning. All the excitement had given her a proper healthy appetite that she hadn’t had in a long time. She ordered a huge piece of the chocolate pie. Today was not a day for dieting.
Through the window Leni could see a van with the name Northern Deliveries sign-written on it on the other side of the square.
‘Oh, that’s for me,’ she said. ‘Excuse me.’ When she went outside to wave over the driver, Mr Singh suddenly leapt up out of his seat and shouted for Ryan.
‘Quick everyone, look, whilst Leni is busy,’ he said, pulling a folded page from a newspaper from his pocket and handing it over to Harvey. ‘Not a word to her. I have recommended the Teashop on the Corner for this.’
Ryan peered over Harvey’s shoulder to see that it was a page from the Daily Trumpet, featuring a competition to find the most welcoming café in South Yorkshire. The prize was five hundred pounds and a full page of advertising in their new Thursday magazine supplement.
Molly nodded with approval. ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely if Leni won. She deserves some extra business.’
Carla nodded in agreement. Leni was a darling. She wasn’t sure she would have had the guts to take the lease for the shop had Leni not tipped her over the edge towards the decision.
Mr Singh lifted a finger to his lips. ‘Not a word,’ he warned Ryan. ‘I want to see the surprise on her face when she wins.’
Ryan grinned. He was in a happy mood. After today’s wages, he would only be ten pounds short for his Kindle. And as luck would have it, Leni had given him a voucher cut from yesterday’s paper. With it he could get ten pounds off a Kindle if he bought it at Tesco. He was going to catch the bus straight from work and buy it.
‘She’s coming back,’ warned Carla, and they all assumed their former positions just as Leni walked in with a handful of small packages.
Harvey noticed that Molly hadn’t eaten much of her teacake.
‘I don’t want you to be upset, my love,’ he said.
‘All these years I thought you—’
Harvey shushed her. ‘I acted like a scoundrel and it was an easy conclusion to draw. And you were manipulated by Graham when you were vulnerable. I’m only glad that I didn’t die before you realised the truth. I remember how much you treasured those few pieces.’
He wondered who was wearing that beautiful engagement ring now with the diamonds and the oval sapphire which he had chosen for her because it was th
e same colour as her eyes.
‘To think that my own son . . . I always hoped he had some love, some respect for me . . . but I’ve been fooling myself on that score too. I don’t want to leave him anything in my will. I feel like selling up and blowing the lot of my money on something frivolous.’
‘You should,’ said Harvey. ‘Go travelling. See the world.’
‘It’s too late in life,’ replied Molly. ‘I’m too old now.’
‘Too old? Don’t be daft, woman. There are some things it is never too late for: holidays, good friends, happy endings.’ He turned to Mr Singh. ‘Pavitar. Please tell Molly that she isn’t too old to buy herself a round the world ticket.’
‘Not at all,’ said Mr Singh with a deep merry chuckle. ‘I would be happy to come with you and carry your bags.’
‘There you go, I’ve even found you a chaperone,’ laughed Harvey. Then, he suddenly folded over, pressing his chest.
‘Harvey,’ Molly cried.
‘It’s all right,’ Harvey said, straightening up and letting slip a white lie with his next breath. ‘Only a smack of heartburn. Nothing to worry about.’
‘You should be resting,’ said Pavitar, his serious professional head on. ‘It’s easy to think you are more well than you are and overdo things.’
‘I’ve never felt better,’ Harvey insisted, his eyes bright and twinkling and fixed on Molly. His lovely Molly. Oh, how he adored her. He hoped he would last until Margaret came back home. He wouldn’t rest in his grave knowing those fat greedy vultures Graham and Sherry were circling.
Ryan had rushed over with a glass of water.
‘Bless you, lad,’ said Harvey. ‘You’re a good boy. I should like to be in one of your classes when you’re older. I think you’d make an excellent English teacher. One of those superb pedagogues you remember for all the right reasons.’
‘I had an English teacher like that,’ put in Molly. ‘Oh, she was wonderful. Miss Cole. She was a terrifying woman with a very hairy upper lip but she brought every book we read alive. Oh, I remember reading Great Expectations and thinking what a fascinating creature Miss Havisham was.’
‘Do you know that book, Ryan?’ asked Mr Singh.
‘Yep,’ said Ryan. ‘Pip’s sister was awful. She’s like my brother Leslie. Right bully.’
‘Yes, Ryan, she was. I always did want to kick Joe up the bottom and tell him to stop being so henpecked,’ Molly smiled.
‘Can I get you anything, Harvey?’ asked Leni, her face full of concern.
‘I have all I need,’ said Harvey. He would miss this little world of warmth and camaraderie. He wondered if God would allow him to visit occasionally on a Tuesday, to sit invisibly in a chair and drift past the cabinets full of literary gifts and listen to the banter about Marley’s ghost, that bastard Heathcliff and old cobwebby brides. Harvey Hoyland thought he could handle death quite easily if he could do that.
Chapter 86
Leni called a cheery Sunday ‘Good morning’ to Shaun as she walked across the square from her car to her teashop. He waved back with some reluctance, as if his politeness had won over his will. She wondered if there had ever been a Mrs McCarthy and if she had broken his heart and that was why he pulled away from the world.
She put the cat basket down and opened the door for Mr Bingley. As usual, he took his time about leaving the warm blanket inside. And when he did, he walked straight across to his regular bed in the corner.
Leni attached a new postcard to Anne’s wall.
Hope all is well at home. Sunshiney and lovely here, mummy. Give Mr Bingley a big kiss from me.
Wish you were here.
Loads of love
Anne X
Leni stood back to look at all the postcards. Her vision instantly blurred with tears.
‘Oh Annie, I miss you so much,’ said Leni, her hand coming out, touching the latest of the postcards. She thought of her daughter, slim and tall like her ex-husband, but with her colouring; dark hair, eyes a combination of green and muddy brown. She turned quickly away and towards the day’s work. She had a lot of photographs to take of the new stock for the internet site. There was no point being maudlin, wishing her daughter was here with her.
*
Margaret and Bernard had barely got through the door at three-thirty p.m. when the phone started ringing.
‘Oh for goodness sake, let the answerphone pick it up,’ said Bernard. ‘It can’t be anything important.’
‘There are nine messages saved,’ said Margaret, crossing over to it and seeing the number flash. She pressed the play button.
‘Auntie Margaret. If you are there, can you please pick up,’ came a horribly familiar voice through the machine speaker. ‘It’s about Mother. It’s urgent, I must speak to you.’
‘God, it’s Graham,’ said Margaret. He never rang so it must be serious. She didn’t even realise he had her number.
The second message was also from Graham. ‘Hello, hello. Are you there, Auntie Margaret? Uncle Bernard?’ Then followed a mumbled impatient aside about old people not having mobile phones before the receiver was put down.
‘Are all of them from him?’ asked Bernard, more concerned now.
‘Can you please ring me, Auntie Margaret? It’s about Mother. I have to talk to you. She’s gone mad.’
Margaret and Bernard looked at each other.
Without hearing more messages, Margaret lifted the receiver and dialled the repeated number listed on the incoming call register. She pressed the speakerphone button so Bernard could hear too. It was answered almost immediately.
‘Graham, Graham, it’s Margaret. We’ve just this minute got in from holiday. What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Mother has gone barmy,’ screeched Graham. ‘I don’t think it’s unreasonable to have her mentally assessed. I’ll be over in ten minutes. Don’t go over to her house until you’ve seen me.’
‘Graham . . .’ But he had gone.
Margaret put down the phone. Bernard was looking at her expectantly.
‘I didn’t catch the last part of what he said. He was half-hysterical. He’s coming over straightaway, and then what? We better go over to Molly’s and see what’s wrong.’
‘He said not to and to wait for him.’ Margaret was worried. What on earth could warrant Graham being so concerned over his mother? It didn’t bode well at all.
Chapter 87
Leni was in the back room pricing up some notepads when she heard the shop door crash open and slam shut again. She got up from the table and walked into the teashop and there she found Ryan sitting at a table, his head down on his arms, his shoulders shaking with sobs.
She rushed over and pulled up a chair at the side of him.
‘Ryan, whatever is the matter? Are you all right, love?’
‘No, I’m not,’ said Ryan, lifting his head. His face was red and tear-stained as if he had been crying for a long time. ‘He’s taken my Kindle and flogged it.’
‘Who has?’
‘Our Leslie. Me brother. He took it out of my room when I was asleep. The box is missing as well. He’s flogged it. And he’s going to kill me because I’ve thrown his wraps down the bog. I’m dead.’
Ryan’s head dropped down again and he howled.
‘Oh love,’ Leni said, and put her hand on his shoulder. And Ryan sobbed harder, then suddenly turned to her and threw his arms around her and cried into her neck. And Leni held him tightly and thought how slight he was for a boy of fourteen.
As if suddenly embarrassed by his weakness, Ryan pulled abruptly away and wiped his nose on the back of his hand.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m just so bloody angry. I hadn’t even had a chance to download a book.’
Leni handed him over a serviette. ‘Let me get you a drink of orange juice. You wipe your eyes and sit there for a minute.’
‘Will you lock the door?’ asked Ryan, his voice hiccupping with sobs.
‘Yes, of course I will,’ replied Leni, crossing to the door to d
rop the latch. Shaun’s warning about the O’Gowans flared in her brain and she felt a heavy knot of panic form in her stomach. Especially as, framed in the pane of door glass, she saw a black Fiesta with one red door screech into the grassy middle of the square and then someone got out and started striding purposefully towards the shop.
Chapter 88
Margaret hadn’t seen Graham for a few years now, but he hadn’t changed, apart from having added a couple more stones of lard to his gut. And his hair had thinned and remarkably got less grey and more yellow-blond. She found herself instinctively curling back her lip and tried, for the sake of politeness, not to. Had she been a cat, the hairs on her back would be standing up and her tail fuzzed to five times its normal size.
Nevertheless she and Bernard listened as objectively as possible to Graham and Sherry’s shared account of the nightmare which occurred in Willowfell the previous day.
‘She attacked Gram,’ Sherry reported, palm flat on her enormous chest as if attempting to still a racing heartbeat. ‘His own mother. Physically attacked him.’
‘More than that, Sherry. She actually issued a death threat.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Molly.’ Bernard’s eyebrows were dipped in concern.
‘It didn’t look like her either. She was possessed. Possessed by that . . . that man. She was accusing Gram of all sorts. Screaming at him.’ Sherry’s hand flew up to her forehead. ‘It gave Gram a migraine last night. He was nearly sick on the sheepskin rug.’
Margaret was having a real problem fathoming all this out. She was pre-disposed not to believe anything Graham said, but then he could hardly lie about having seen Harvey Hoyland in the house. And he certainly must have been extremely concerned to search out his aunt for help. Harvey Hoyland. How had he managed to inveigle his way back into her sister’s life? And why – at this time of their lives?
‘What was she accusing you of, Graham?’ asked Bernard, his calm, calculating barrister’s head on.
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