by Anne Coates
“Don’t patronise me Tom. I know what I heard and saw the way he looked at me. And to top it all the other day when I was at the Bull Ring, a tramp gave me a note telling me I was being watched.”
“What? What on earth were you doing there?” She could tell Tom was losing patience with her. Well tough.
“I was looking to match up the client photos Liz had with the people who live there. Trying to make connections.”
“Well maybe you should just leave that to the police. Claudia said…”
“Oh you’ve been in touch with her then.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I hardly ever hear from you. You’re not here when I need you but you have time for conversations with Claudia Turner!”
“Oh for God’s sake! She’s an ex-colleague. A friend. And she was worried about you as it happens.” Tom’s exasperation survived the transatlantic cables.
Hannah gulped the lump in her throat. At least he couldn’t see her tears. She was furious with herself as well as Tom.
“Well, I’m worried for me, as it happens.”
Sod’s law there was some sort of commotion at Tom’s end. “Sorry I’ll have to go. Please take care.” And with that the call ended.
Hannah’s spirits sank even lower when she returned to the bathroom and lukewarm water. She turned on the hot tap but that soon ran cold. “Damn.” And damn Tom Jordan, she thought. Who does he think he is telling me I was overreacting? He hadn’t been there. And he should have been if our relationship is going to have any meaning.
As this thought took shape, it brought her up short. She had thought she and Tom had a future together. But what did she really know about him? He had saved her life. And Elizabeth’s. But was that enough to carry them through his absence? She went to bed with that unhappy thought going round and round in her mind.
NINETEEN
“I’m so sorry to dump all this on you, Hannah,” Celia Rayman had said, “but I really can’t go through all these things myself. It seems such an intrusion of privacy.”
Hannah had said nothing. She too would be intruding as Lady Rayman put it.
“Instead of filling your home with all this, could you come to Kensington to work through it and then take anything you might need to …”
Just before the funeral, Celia had found out that Liz had stored a whole load of boxes with her solicitor. These had now been deposited at the Rayman home.
“Of course, Celia. I’ll come over tomorrow morning.”
In the meantime there was something else she had to sort out.
Hannah walked into the charity shop when she thought it would be least busy. She had judged correctly. The place was empty and the woman sitting reading behind the counter looked a bit put out that she’d have to put down her book and attend to her.
“Good morning,” Hannah said. “I wonder if you could help me? I’m looking for some clothes for a character I’m playing in a local amdram. I need to be a bit like a bag lady so I need stuff which looks as though it’s seen better days…”
The woman with short white–blond hair and turquoise coloured glasses, smiled. “You know you’re the second one I’ve had in here with a request like that. When’s this play on?”
“Oh next month sometime, think it’s the last week.”
The woman gave her a “pull the other one” look but didn’t push her for more details. “Actually you’d be doing me a favour if you took some of these rejects here. They’re only fit for a jumble sale and perhaps not even that.” She produced a laundry type bag from behind a door at the back of the shop. “I don’t know how some people think we’d managed to sell this rubbish. I’m Jane by the way.”
“Hannah.”
“Right let’s get stuck in, then.”
After about half an hour they had between them put together a passable outfit for a bag lady.
When Hannah had tried on the skirt, jumper, coat and scarf she looked transformed. “I’ll need a hat of some kind and some boots or shoes.”
The footwear proved to be harder to find and eventually Hannah gave up and thought she had some old boots somewhere at home which she used in the garden. The wooly hat they found was perfect though and Hannah was able to tuck all her hair into it and still pull it quite far down on her face.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Just make a donation…”
Hannah handed her £10 which seemed to please Jane and they said goodbye, each pleased with their transaction.
Mary Cuthrington showed Hannah into a first floor room that was obviously rarely used in the Rayman household. Maybe it had once served as a dressing room as there was another door on the left hand wall but that now had a chair in front of it. There was another comfortable looking armchair placed by the window which looked out onto the gardens but little else in the way of furniture. Perhaps the room had been cleared to accommodate the boxes from Liz’s solicitors.
She found herself surrounded by box files, envelopes and small boxes, wondering where on earth to begin. She had with her some empty trays and boxes ready to priotitise and tirage what she had before her. Mary Cuthrington had provided her with a pot of coffee and a plate of what looked like home-made biscuits on a tray and said she’d have lunch ready for her at one o’clock.
“You’ll need a break from all this.” She sniffed loudly. “Celia is out today so would you mind eating in the kitchen with me?”
Hannah had assured her it would be a pleasure and the companion left her to her task.
So much of what was in the first box, was of no interest whatsovever. Credit card receipts and bank statements. Hannah wondered why Liz kept them all. Perhaps it was for tax reasons. Hannah decided to concentrate on anything from the period that dated a few months leading up to when she left for Somalia until her return and death. A poignant reminder that the starting point was just after the time Hannah had told Liz she was pregnant. But that would have had no bearing on her friend’s decision.
Three hours later, Hannah’s mind was in a fug of inexplicable facts. She had discovered that Liz had started a trust fund for Elizabeth and she found various bits of paper with notes about what to buy Elizabeth for Christmas and her birthday. But one name which kept coming up was Kamaria Tuberkay. Liz had “adopted” her about five years previously. Regularly sent money for her education and to buy clothes. Kamaria’s family was also included in this generosity. Hannah was stunned that Liz had never mentioned this to her. Did Celia know? She made a note to ask her in the pad she’d brought with her.
There was a knock on the door. Hannah called out to “come in”.
Mary Cuthrington stood on the threashold but didn’t enter. “Lunch is ready dear, if this is a good moment?”
Hannah smiled. “I could do with a break, Mary, thank you.”
Thank you hardly seemed adequate for the trouble Mary had gone to for lunch. Soup, cold chicken, various salads with different dressings, jacket potatoes, some newly baked bread… “Goodness, this is a feast. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble for me, Mary.”
“Nonsense, you just tuck in.”
They fell into a companionable silence. Hannah thinking about the papers. Mary, she noticed, eating very little.
“How long have you been here, Mary?” She remembered Liz saying she couldn’t remember a time when Mary hadn’t been with them.
“Must be some thirty-odd years now. Seems forever. And sometimes…” but Mary didn’t elaborate.
“Did you know Lord Rayman? There are no photos of him anywhere except what appears to be a portrait of him as a very young man in the hall.”
“Before my time, dear.” Mary got up to clear the table. “But I hear he was a good father and husband.”
“Then why would he just disappear?”
Mary shrugged. “Coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.” Hannah stared at Mary’s back. What was it Liz always said? “It’s like having two mothers.”
; “I’ll take it with me if that’s ok?”
“Of course it is. I’ll put it in a flask for you.”
“Thank you, Mary, I could get used to this.” She gave the older woman a hug and was surprised to see an unfathomable expression on Mary’s face as she moved away.
“Just find something we can work on,” was all she said but it cut Hannah to the quick. We.
Hannah returned to her boxes and worked solidly for the next few hours sorting and sifting. Instead of pouring over everything she thought might be of interest, she put those items to one side and was making much better progress.
When she next looked at her watch it was gone five o’clock and she would need to get home for Elizabeth. At least she could justify her absence by the fact that Celia was paying her. She put the documents she was taking with her into her briefcase and decided that she would leave everything else as it was ready for her next visit. She was just about to leave when Celia appeared at the door.
“Well, you’ve certainly made headway here, Hannah.” She smiled but she looked tired and sad.
“I thought it would be ok to leave all this so I can pick up where I left off, probably tomorrow or the day after?”
“Of course it is. This is just one of the many rooms in this house that never get used…”
Hannah decided to broach the one subject that had intrigued her. “Celia… did you know that Liz had fostered a young girl in Somalia and regularly sent money?”
Lady Rayman looked puzzled for a moment. “No I didn’t but that’s just the sort of thing she’d do. And apart from her ‘clinic’ –” Hannah could almost here the quotation marks around the word – “my daughter rarely spoke of her philanthropic works.” She paused. “Anyway I mustn’t keep you from your Elizabeth.”
They walked to the front door together. “I suppose that’s why she volunteered to work in that godforsaken place.” Celia looked thoughtful. “To see the girl.”
“Yes but she never mentioned her… at least not to me. And she never really explained why she returned so quickly, breaking her contract.”
“Such a lot she kept to herself. Or maybe she told that priest she became so friendly with?”
“Perhaps,” replied Hannah knowing it would be some time before Father Patrick would be able to remember much of value.
She kissed Celia on the cheek and was taken aback by her scent. The perfume was the same as Mary was wearing. Maybe they had lived together so long now their tastes had merged. Still, it made you wonder.
TWENTY
In the taxi going home, Hannah mulled over what she knew – or rather didn’t know – about the absent Lord Rayman. Liz had been vague about when he left and what had happened between her parents.
“One day he was there and the next he wasn’t. He wasn’t one of those hands on fathers – hardly the fashion then – but I knew he loved me. I always felt loved. Even after he’d gone. For a while he’d send little gifts and cards but gradually they stopped…”
“But weren’t you upset? Wasn’t your mother?”
“Mummy was remarkably calm about the whole situation. Stiff upper lip and all that. She was never one for getting emotional and being all touchy feely. I suppose I just accepted the situation. I was only about three. It wasn’t as if my daily life changed that much. We still lived in the same house, did the same things. Life went on – just without Daddy.”
Now Hannah wondered if her father’s disappearance had been the motivation behind Liz’s work with the inhabitants of Cardboard City. Perhaps she thought that each vagrant she saw could be a link to her departed father? Did she stare into those Polaroids, searching for a likeness to Lord Rayman? And what about Jacob Gurnstein? What did he know which possibly cost him his life?
“’Ow far down Lordship Lane, luv?” The taxi driver’s question brought her back to the present.
“Third on the left, thanks.”
Hannah had the money ready in her hand as the cab pulled up outside her house. The driver had to stop in the road as in front of her gate was a vehicle she’d come to detest – a police car with the driver waiting patiently inside.
Hannah fumbled with front door keys and let herself in. The traffic from Kensington had meant she was later than expected but she certainly hadn’t been anticipating a visit from Claudia Turner who stood up as she entered the sitting room.
“I’m sorry to disturb your evening, Hannah. But there have been some developments and I need you to come with me.”
“Where?” Hannah still felt raw that Claudia had discussed her with Tom. And why? She felt betrayed by both of them but she really had no cause to expect any sort of loyalty from the inspector. Tom was another matter.
“St Thomas’s. Patrick Ryan has regained consciousness.”
“And?” Both women seemed awkward with each other.
“And he’s asking for you?”
“Me?” Hannah was incredulous then irritated. “Why on earth didn’t you contact me on my mobile? I passed the hospital on my way back from Kensington.”
“I’m afraid that’s my DC’s fault… Anyway I thought you might need to arrange things here…” She left the sentence hanging.
Hannah left the room and ran up the stairs two at a time. Janet was bathing Elizabeth who sounded happy and contented as she went past the door to dump her breifcase containing Liz’s documents in the study. The answerphone was flashing. Only one message from someone called DC Johns. Stupid man, why hadn’t he had the sense to take down her mobile number and call her?
In the bathroom Hannah smiled at Elizabeth and felt a jolt of guilt for leaving her yet again. She had hardly spent any time with her today. Would it always be like this? The balancing act. She had known that whatever her circumstances she would never be content as a stay-at-home mother. Working freelance gave her more flexibility – the best of both worlds. And often it was but at the moment she seemed to have the worst of both.
“Janet, I’m really sorry but could you stay on for a while?”
Janet nodded. “It’s not a problem. I thought you’d need me here longer so I let my mum know not to expect me at the usual time.”
“Thanks.” Hannah leaned into the bath and kissed Elizabeth’s nose. “Bye bye gorgeous. See you later.”
Elizabeth looked puzzled. “Bye bye Mama.” Then: “No! No!” she wailed.
Janet immediately began to distract her with toys and bubbles. “You just go,” she said. “She’ll be fine.”
Hannah was sure her daughter would be but she didn’t feel fine. She felt wretched and confused as she went downstairs to find Claudia Turner talking into a radio phone; she sounded annoyed. She looked up. “Sorry about that. Are you ok to go now?”
“Do you know anything about Lord Rayman’s disappearance?” DI Turner looked surprised. They were sitting together in the back of the car so it was easy to converse.
“Why do you ask?”
“Just fishing really. I wondered if Liz’s preoccupation with the inhabitants of Cardboard City was linked to her father somehow. She only told me that he left when she was a child and no one had seen or heard of him since.”
Claudia looked thoughtful. “I did check him out, of course. But there was nothing of interest. No debts or scandal linked to his name. He just seems to have disappeared without trace and made a good job of it. That is if he is still alive.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well he’d be in his late sixties now. If he did take to the road it’s not an easy life. Or maybe he went abroard. Still not my problem. Nor yours, I guess.”
“True. Maybe whatever drove him away is best left buried.”
“As indeed he may be.” Claudia Turner smiled to take the sting from her words. But Hannah couldn’t help thinking about Jacob Gurnstein and his death in the river. Did he have a family who have been mourning his loss for years? At least they would now have a body to bury… but maybe they hadn’t been so heartbroken at his disappearance?
On
the face of it Lady Rayman and Liz never showed signs of missing the husband and father they’d lost. There certainly didn’t seem to be any financial hardship either. She assumed that Lord Rayman would have been declared dead after seven years and they would have had access to the family funds.
What different lives they’d led, she and Liz. And yet they’d had so much in common, or so Hannah had thought. Now she wasn’t too sure. Hannah had always assumed they shared their thoughts and aspirations but not now. Liz’s private papers showed that she hadn’t needed to work from a financial perspective. And she had used a lot of her personal wealth to fund her activities in Somalia. So why had she left there so abruptly to return to her private practice in the Barbican?
“Penny for them?”
Hannah smiled. “I was just thinking about Liz. Why would anyone want to kill her?”
DI Turner was saved from answering a rhetorical question as the car pulled into St Thomas’s.
“Let’s see what priestly Patrick has to say, shall we?”
If that was an attempt at a joke, Hannah thought it was in poor taste, since the man had literally been unable to speak since he had been hospitalised. She felt a sick apprehension at what he might say now.
However they had only taken a few steps from the car when DI Turner’s phone rang. “What? When did this happen?” She looked across at Hannah. “And you couldn’t have alerted me earlier because..?” They had both stopped walking. “Make sure the officer guarding the room is fully appraised and meet me back at the station.”
“I’m so sorry Hannah. Patrick apparently had some sort of seizure after he came round. Quite common in heroin overdoses, or so I’m led to believe. Anyway there was always a risk of major organ failure so the doctors have put him into an induced coma while they carry out more tests.”
As she was saying this the DI held her arm and steered her back to the car. “My driver will take you home. I really am sorry…”
Stunned, Hannah sat in the back seat. There was nothing she could say except “Thank you” but what she was thanking the DI for was a mystery to both of them.