Jane Hetherington's Adventures In Detection

by Nina Jon

  “People are already saying the suicide note was a fake or he was forced to write it!”

  “Don’t say that Jack.”

  “Well, they didn’t find the body in Korea did they? Do you mind if I turn over – the Grand Prix’s on!”

  Jane joined Charity in the kitchen.

  “It’s sad about Mr Kim isn’t it?” Jane asked, “and now all these rumours. Poor Mrs Kim.”

  Charity ignored her. She furiously chopped up some broccoli and hurled it into a pan of boiling water. Jane realised Charity hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  “What has that broccoli ever done to you?” she asked her.

  Charity slammed the saucepan lid down on the saucepan and said, “Wait until you read this!”

  Charity picked up her mobile phone and scrolled through her text messages, until she found the one which had caused her so much distress. She handed the phone to Jane.

  “Just read that,” she said, darkly.

  The text was sent from Johnny. It read, ‘Love the Falklands. Love the penguins. Love the people. Love the climate, but love you more, mate!’

  “He says he loves you,” Jane said. “That must count for something.”

  Charity almost grappled the phone from Jane’s hands and slammed it down on the kitchen worktop. “Jack got exactly the same message,” she said. “He sent me, and God knows who else, a round robin text!” Charity leaned against the worktop in exasperation. “I’m an idiot, I know, but I was so excited when I read it. I couldn’t believe it when Jack told me he’d got one too…”

  She kicked the kitchen unit. Poor Charity, Jane thought. She’s a fool for love and she knows it. In the early years of their marriage, Jane found Hugh’s lack of impulsiveness limiting, but she had come to realise that it was this solidness of his that gave their relationship its strength. When she compared their relationship with that of Charity and Johnny’s, if it could even be called a relationship, it could only serve to enforce what she had lost. Johnny was funny and engaging, yes, and like many such people he was time-consuming, but that was only to be expected. The problem with Johnny was that he was mercurial to the point of childishness; and so determined to be unconventional and spontaneous (assets he prized) that he was prone to create an impulse on which to act – such as the one which had left Charity quite bereft.

  “He says we’re too young to settle down,” she said. “But you and Hugh were married at our age, weren’t you?” she asked, taking a roast chicken from the oven.

  “We were,” Jane confirmed.

  Charity took a carving knife out of the cutlery drawer and plunged it angrily into the chicken.

  “Since he’s gone I even have to carve the chicken myself,” she said.

  “You and me both, my dear,” Jane said. “You and me both.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  WHEN WANT COMES IN THE DOOR …

  I

  Jane turned up at Hamilton’s department store late in the morning. She’d made an appointment with Phil. The day was cloudy and overcast. Once again, there were few people in the shop and the heavily discounted clothes on its rails remained unsold. While she walked upstairs to Phil’s offi ce she thought things over. Sam loved Phil, of this Jane was convinced. She’d promised Sam that she’d fi nd out if Phil deserved this love and she would; but so far all she’d discovered was a young man trying his damndest to keep the family business afl oat, but fail- ing. There were still many questions unanswered, not least of all the identity of the young woman she had seen Phil going for a drive with and later on at the Wil- low Tree Hotel, and whether they were having an affair? When she walked into his offi ce, Phil’s feet were on the desk and he was leaning back in his chair, his head turned to look out of his offi ce window. A trickle of rec- ognition briefl y crossed his face when he turned to face Jane, followed by confusion.Jane greeted Phil with the words, “I’m the woman your fiancée paid to follow you and discover what you’re up to behind her back.”

  “Thank heavens for that. I thought you might be another creditor about to serve me with a writ,” he said, inviting her to sit down. “What did you discover?” he asked her, matter-of-factly.

  “That you work too hard and eat a lot of sandwiches. I’m sorry about Hamilton Hall.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I went there. I met your brother.”

  “My brother had such ideas. The hall was going to be a tourist attraction, and a luxury hotel. People were going to get married there, come for a country yoga weekend. But it took so long and everything cost so much more than he’d bargained for. Then the property market collapsed, and the banks stopped lending money. We were going to use the income from the hall to modernise this place and update our ranges. We were going to add another floor selling electronic equipment, and add a deli and beauty spa to the ground floor. You may not believe it, but Hamilton’s was holding its own before the economic slowdown. The best laid plans …

  “I’ve done my best to buy more time and hold the creditors off, but I’m running out of options. I’ve mortgaged and remortgaged the store and the house up to the hilt. I’ve maxed out all my cards. I’ve had to get Sam to sign away her rights in the house. She went to see a solicitor, but she’s so intent on believing I’m a millionaire, I doubt she listened to anything the solicitor said. She’s so naive about money.”

  “Why on earth haven’t you told her about your problems?”

  “Tell the girl who aspires to live like Footballer’s Wives that we’ll be lucky if we end up renting a terrace? She’ll dump me immediately and I’ll have lost everything.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Jane said.

  “Her parents never had any money. They bought their council house, but couldn’t pay the mortgage and had to sell it. All they ever did after that was argue about money and then they split up. All Sam wants is someone to take care of her, and give her the security she craves, and that’s not me anymore. I wish it was.”

  “Phil, I believe Sam loves you more than you know, but you must be honest with her, and not only her. I’m going to ask you to be honest with me. Who was the young lady I saw you accompany up to a room in the Willow Tree Hotel and what is she to you?” Jane asked.

  Phil started to laugh.

  “That’s where I’ve seen you before!” he exclaimed. “She’s the accountant. Her name is Gemma Jones. We went to the hotel for a creditor’s meeting in one of the conference rooms there. My brother was there as well. In the end we were able to secure more lending and hold them off for a while. We had lunch together afterwards because we needed to discuss what to do next.”

  “And what about the day before? I saw you leave your bed-and-breakfast together and drive away. I tried to follow you but got stuck in traffic.”

  “We met up there to drive to Hamilton Hall together to get everything sorted out before the creditors meeting. Nothing more.”

  “Phil, it may be outside my remit to say this, but I think you need to tell Sam what is going on. She’s gone to all the trouble to instruct me because she’s quite convinced you have another woman. We’re talking about an insecure young woman here. I’d have been devastated if I thought my late husband unable to confide such troubles in me.”

  “When want comes in the door, love goes out the window,” Phil said simply.

  “My husband may have died a relatively wealthy man, but he didn’t start off as one, I can assure you,” Jane replied.

  “But you knew that when you married him, and he knew that you loved him for himself, not his money. She’d heard of my family when she was at school. We were rich. We owned a department store, a hall. She takes pride in being part of a family like that. I don’t know if she’ll want to be with me, if I can’t offer her the lifestyle she craves.”

  Jane wasn’t sure that Phil was describing pride; it came across more as avarice. Nor could she see why Phil would want to remain with Sam if this were true. However she wasn’t sure it was. Sam lacked self-confidence certainly,
and clearly so did Phil. Unfortunately, both seem to equate security and happiness with money, and Jane wasn’t sure there was much she could do about this. However, she’d grown to like both of them in the course of her investigations, and wanted to help them if she could.

  “I can only tell you what I think, Phil. I don’t doubt that Sam hankers after the good life, but the test of her love for you is whether she still wants to be the wife of the decent human being that you are, without the flagship store and the great hall, and I believe that she will. Sooner or later Phil, you’re going to have to find out one way or the other. Do you love her?” she asked.

  “More than anything.”

  “I don’t know. Here are two young people who love each other, but who can’t seem to say so. I can’t help thinking that things were much easier back when kitchen units only came in Formica. I have to tell Sam something, Phil,” she said. “What do you want that to be?”

  II

  Sam’s living room was as exclusively decorated as the rest of the house. The colour scheme of the room was grey and pink. Even the lamp bases were hand-painted in shades of both. Not only this, Jane realised, but they were painted in precisely the same shade of grey as the soft-furniture was covered in, and the same shade of pink, as the carpets and curtains were made from. The pattern on the lamp bases was replicated in the silk cushions that lay scattered over the furniture. Jane couldn’t help noticing that Sam’s cardigan was made from the same shade of pink as the curtains behind her, and her skirt was the same grey as the armchair on which she sat. Come to think of it, the outfit she’d worn when they’d first met complemented her kitchen units; even the green headscarf she’d worn matched her breakfast-room table. Did all her outfits match the colour schemes of her rooms, Jane wondered.

  Sam looked more childlike and vulnerable than ever. She’d curled herself up in a ball, and was hugging her legs with her arms, subconsciously rocking herself to and fro. Jane looked around the room and wondered how many of Sam’s possessions she was going to be able to keep. She felt as though she’d been nominated to tell a man, whose wife had just had a baby, that he’d been selected for redundancy. Outside the rainy weather mimicked the mood inside the room.

  “Go on, tell me the worst,” Sam said.

  “Sam, when I sat in your kitchen and you told me that you believed your fiancé had cheated on you, yet despite this, you still loved him, I thought – ‘Ah, the old story!’ Well, as it’s turned out, it was the old story – but a different old story. This story, Sam, is about insecurity not infidelity. Really, it all comes down to status and how important that is to you.”

  III

  As she drove home, Jane went over the day’s events in her mind. She thought Sam and Phil basically a nice young couple who would resolve their problems given time, although she couldn’t help wondering whether she was actually going to be paid. Jon King and Grays settled her account by return. Even Foo Yong paid her with Chinese tea and delicious dumplings. Jane suspected she would have to send Sam and Phil a reminder or two. Or three.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE ANSWER PHONE MESSAGE

  When Jane got home she discovered an answer phone message from a very distressed Dawn Gray. She didn’t even introduce herself before she started talking. “He’s left me!” Dawn’s message began. “Alastair’s left me for Margaret! He told me when we got home from the school play. It’s been going on for ages. It’s all your fault! You introduced them. I wish I’d never con- tacted you now…” and on these words, and unable to go on, she’d slammed the phone down. Jane was completely taken aback. She simply stared at the phone for some time, eventually picking up the courage to return Dawn’s call. Her call was picked up by Dawn’s answer phone, much to Jane’s relief. “Dawn, its Jane Hetherington here,” she said. “I’m terribly shocked to hear your news and I’m very sad- dened by it. I hope you and Alastair are able to sort things out.” Jane wasn’t sure what else she could add and said so. It was getting late and she went to bed, where she barely slept.She woke early and made herself a strong black coffee and took it outside to drink in the back garden. She sat on her back doorstep – a pot of coffee beside her, a cup of coffee in her hand – staring out over the wide-open countryside that stretched away to the rear of her cottage.

  “Okay?” Jack said, peering over the fence.

  He’d been playing football in his back garden and clutched the football. When Jane didn’t reply, he ran to the end of the fence, which divided the two gardens, and squeezed himself through a small gap. He still had his football with him.

  “I’m afraid I have something to tell you,” Jane said sombrely. “You remember Iain Gray, the young boy I introduced to your friend Alfie? Well, unfortunately, his parents have split up.”

  “So I heard. What about that then? Iain’s dad and Alfie’s mum?” he said, bouncing the football up and down on his knee.

  “You know about it?”

  Jack caught the ball and nodded. “Alfie told me. He said it’s been going on since virtually the first time they met.”

  “Really!”

  “Yeah. Alastair called Alfie’s mum the day after you all went round there, and they’ve been meeting regularly ever since. Without Iain obviously,” Jack said, quite unfazed. He was now kicking the ball against the wall.

  “Dawn blames me, I’m afraid.”

  “Did she actually say that?” Jack asked, catching the ball again, before moving to sit beside her on the doorstep.

  “Those were her very words.”

  Jack grinned and peered up at her.

  “It’s my fault when you think about it,” he said. “I suggested you talk to Alfie.”

  “What does Alfie think about it?”

  “He’s happy. He thinks of Iain as his little brother. His mother’s happier than he can ever remember her being and he likes Alastair. Iain’s worried that his mum will go back to South Africa, and he’ll be forced to choose one of them. If he does have to choose, he says he’ll choose his dad.”

  “Poor Dawn,” Jane said.

  “Alastair must really love Margaret to leave Iain,” Jack said, bouncing the ball up and down on the ground in front of him.

  Jack never really knew his father. He’d died in his sleep from a heart attack when Jack was barely two. Charity believed the stress of his premature death brought on her mother’s breast cancer. Although Jack rarely mentioned his father, he was very interested in learning anything about him. Jack’s father had been in the Navy and Jack kept a collection of memorabilia of his father’s life including all of his father’s medals and his Royal Navy captain’s cap.

  “Iain wasn’t being bullied at school at all, you know,” Jack said, getting up and making a practice dribble. “The other kids thought his accent was cool. They loved hearing him talk about his life in South Africa. They admired him for keeping snakes. Iain only pretended he was being bullied, because he didn’t want to bring anyone home from school, ’cause his parents embarrassed him by arguing. Even though they both kept saying things were better in South Africa, they argued all the time over there too, Iain said. Apparently his school there told his parents not to go to his sports day, in case they started arguing at the touchline, like they had the year before. That’s why he didn’t take up any sports here. He couldn’t face going through that again. Alfie says it’s no wonder Iain spent all his spare time talking to snakes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  COLD FEET

  I

  Jane woke with a start. It was Saturday, and for the fi rst time in decades, Jane would be spending a Saturday night with her fi rst love – Stanley Marshman. How long had it been since the two had set eyes on each other? How would he react when he saw her? And how would she react when she met him again, after all these years? The teenaged Jane had imagined herself instantly in love with Stan from the fi rst moment she set eyes on him; but the sixty-three-year-old Jane knew that attrac- tion had been entirely physical. The eighteen-year-old Stan had be
en wonderfully handsome. Even after all this time, Jane could still remember him as he was then – slim, with shoulder-length dark tousled hair, full lips and a dashing smile and large dark eyes framed by long dark eyelashes. There wasn’t a photograph of Stan on his website, only a cartoon image of him, which didn’t really give her much to go on. She tried to imagine him as he would look now, but try as she might; the only image she could conjure up in her mind was of the cocky dark-haired heart-throb who had left her to join up. To distract her, she re-read the e-mail she’d received from Sam the day before.

  ‘Good news! Phil and I have talked things over. In fact we’ve done virtually nothing else for days. We’re going to sell this place. We figure we’ll have enough left over to buy a small terrace and we’re going to start a new business from home, buying and selling things over the internet. We’re going to be e-millionaires!’ the e-mail almost squealed. ‘You’ll never guess what else he told me? You know I said Phil fired the cleaner because she stole some cutlery. It wasn’t her who took it! It was Phil! He sold it to raise some cash! We couldn’t afford a cleaner anyway, he said. It gave him the excuse to get rid of her! Poor girl!’

  Jane realised she still hadn’t replied and did so there and then,

  ‘I’m delighted to hear that you and Phil are working through your problems together. Maybe I could take this opportunity to remind you that my invoice remains unpaid!

  Yours sincerely’

  The e-mail certainly cheered her up, but she was still nervous about meeting Stan. Remember, we’re just two old friends meeting up for an evening out, she told herself.

  II

  “Two old friends meeting up for an evening out, my foot,” Charity snorted, while she rigorously stirred orange sludge in a bowl, preparing to add auburn low lights to Jane’s hair. “We’ll treat it as a first date.”