False Wall

by Veronica Heley

  ‘One spoonful for me, and one for you,’ Leon said, re- appearing with a tray on which reposed two bowls and two spoons. Winston opened his eyes and lifted his head, interested in ice cream. Leon said, ‘Not for you, Winston. I’ll feed you later.’

  With an effort, Bea said, ‘I can feed myself.’

  ‘Possibly, but I’m enjoying this. Indulge me. It’s not often I am allowed to look after you … that’s it, open wide …’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ she said, round another mouthful.

  He’d put on a bit of weight recently, and now, when he smiled, a dimple appeared in his cheek.

  She said, round another mouthful, ‘Don’t think you can get round me by—’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. My wall knocked over your tree. And yes, the wall between your garden and mine is on my deeds. I looked it up when I bought the house. So it’s my responsibility to make good any damage.’

  She pushed herself more upright. ‘But it was that fool of a neighbour of yours who started the trouble. I actually saw him, or his gardener or whatever, up on a ladder against the wall—’

  ‘And that bit of the wall is his responsibility, yes. All the houses in my road are responsible for the walls as we look up the hill.’

  ‘The insurance people will sort that out. What about your wall with the neighbour who started the problem? That’s come down, too. That’s his responsibility, too, isn’t it?’

  ‘Stop worrying about it.’

  ‘I don’t even know his name,’ said Bea. She waved the last spoonful of ice cream away, while at the same time restraining Winston from pawing Leon’s sleeve to attract his attention. ‘I asked Carrie to find out, but I’m not sure she did. I don’t think the man I saw attacking the ivy was the owner of the property. I only caught a glimpse of him, but the lad I saw was quite young – possibly even a teenager. He was wearing a T-shirt and ripped jeans. The usual gear.’

  ‘A son of the house? Grandson?’ Leon allowed Winston to lick the last of the ice cream from his bowl. ‘The owner is one Admiral Sir something Payne. Apparently several generations of his family live together in that house. When I bought my place, I called on both my neighbours to explain what I planned to do by way of rebuilding and apologized for any inconvenience. My neighbour to the right has converted her house into three self-contained flats. All three tenants are working professionals, out all day. On the Admiral’s side, I met a pleasant older woman … now, what was her name? I think she might have been the housekeeper. She explained that the family were anxious about my renovations but accepted that they were necessary. My plumbing was remarkable, all lead pipes, over a hundred years old, and nobody could tell me when the house was last rewired. Coffee?’

  She put her hand on his arm to detain him. ‘What about the bones?’

  The very slightest of frowns. ‘Yes. I had a message on my phone about those when I landed. We knew there’d been some kind of pets’ cemetery at the bottom of the garden because the workmen had come across some engraved stones, “Nipper, 1928, RIP”. That sort of thing. The workmen had turned up some of the bones before I left and asked what I wanted done with them. I said to ask the local vet, take his advice.’

  ‘The police officer seemed to indicate that the bones might be human.’

  ‘I bought the house off an elderly lady who said she’d lived there for ever – been born there, even. I can’t see her murdering the butler, or whatever. If that bone is human, it’s probably been there over ninety years.’

  She frowned. ‘Is the woman compos mentis still?’

  ‘Very much so. She ran some kind of charity from the house for many years, and only stopped doing it a while ago. It’s one of the reasons why I bought the house. The local council frown on any change of use, but if she’d been running a charity from it, then so could I.’

  She knew that it had been his plan to take over and revitalize an ailing charity, but he hadn’t mentioned it recently. Had he gone off the idea?

  He said, ‘I think her husband was lost at sea, so she started a charity in a small way, did well for a time but then … age … other charities doing much the same thing …’

  ‘It would be a lark if it were her husband’s bones that have turned up in her garden.’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry. That was in bad taste.’

  He followed her lead into fantasy land. ‘Or her lover’s? Perhaps someone she was ashamed of, who died in her bed …? A toy boy?’

  She giggled. ‘You’re as bad as I am! Oh dear, there’s going to be a horrible fuss. Will it hold up the work on your house? Has it put you off living there?’

  ‘I don’t believe in ghosts. And,’ as Winston pawed at his arm again, ‘I’d better feed the animal, hadn’t I? Where’s his stuff? It’s in the cupboard above the kettle, isn’t it?’

  He collected the empty plates and removed himself to the kitchen, closely followed and even hindered by Winston, who was determined not to be left out when food was going.

  Bea sighed deeply, blew her nose again – ugh! – and forced herself to get off the settee. The blind was down over the French windows that overlooked the back garden, but it was still daylight outside, and she needed to check what was going on. She pulled up the blind, and winced. Her poor tree …

  Because she was on the first floor, she could now see over the wreck of the tree and into the gardens opposite. Something was happening in the garden belonging to – who did Leon say owned the house? – an Admiral? Admirals normally acquired a knighthood when they retired, didn’t they? She had a couple on her client list who were Admirals, and were Sir something something.

  Amazingly, that ramshackle hut of his was still standing.

  Bea noticed that two workmen in the Admiral’s garden were shovelling debris from the fallen walls into tidy heaps, pushing them further on to her garden but leaving Leon’s strictly alone.

  Surely nothing in any of the gardens should be touched until the insurance assessor had been round? Another couple of men emerged from the Admiral’s house, carrying … metal poles?

  She didn’t rush – she wasn’t capable of rushing at the moment – but she found her handbag and got out her smartphone to take pictures of what was going on. It looked as though the Admiral was preparing to entertain in his garden and couldn’t be bothered to wait for the assessor before doing some clearing up. Yes, a couple of men were working to build the top of some kind of structure – a marquee? She supposed that the sides of the marquee would hide the fact from the guests that one side and the end of their garden lacked walls.

  The Admiral seemed to be using people experienced at erecting marquees. In fact – Bea squinted – did she recognize a couple of the men? Her agency often arranged for marquees to be set up for their events.

  She turned her attention to Leon’s garden. The workmen had departed for the night, but, as she’d feared, a tent – a very different kind of tent – had been erected over an area bordering the wall between her garden and his. Men and women clad in white coveralls moved in and out of the tent. A police tent? Forensics were digging up the bones?

  Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones …

  The presence of the forensic team confirmed to Bea that there were human remains in addition to those of various pets which had been buried there over the years. She wondered how many years it took for a skeleton to turn to dust. Hundreds. Thousands? Did it matter? No.

  Leon returned, placing a cup of coffee on the table beside her. This was where she often sat in the evenings to play patience and to enjoy the changing of the seasons in her garden below.

  He put his arms around her from behind. ‘I told my foreman to take photos of what’s happened, although I’m sure the police will do so, too. I’m glad to see you’re back on your feet. I wasn’t looking forward to hauling you upstairs to bed.’

  She relaxed against him. ‘As if …!’ He was a big man, but she was not and never had been a pixie. She smiled to herself. She was accustomed to looking after other people, and it was a heavenly cha
nge to be looked after instead. She could get used to being cosseted like this.

  Leon was not usually so demonstrative. He kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ll sleep here tonight, just in case.’

  ‘I’m perfectly all right.’

  ‘No, you’re not. I’ll sleep in the spare room next to you and we’ll keep both our doors open, so that you can call me if you need something in the night.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ But she didn’t move, and he didn’t release her.

  ‘Zoe, my new PA, tells me that we have a last-minute invitation to a drinks party at the Admiral’s house tomorrow evening. As new neighbours. Both of us. Do you feel up to it?’

  She was not amused. ‘You mean that the man who was responsible for bringing down our walls has invited us to a party?’

  ‘That’s right. Admiral Sir Whatsit Thingy. A gent of the old school who, according to Zoe, has manners to match. By which I suppose she means velvet gloves hiding the usual steel. If I’m any judge of the matter, he’ll be asking me for financial tips in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Zoe says he rang again this evening to apologize for the problem he’s caused with the wall, and to renew his invitation. Mending fences, if you’ll forgive the pun. So, shall we go? It should be an interesting evening, and he is going to be my next-door neighbour, after all.’

  And if you are a multibillionaire, you are never much inconvenienced by damage to your property, because you can afford to get other people to sort it out.

  She sighed. ‘I suppose it is a good idea to keep on good terms with your neighbours, and it wasn’t he himself who caused the wall to fall. Yes, let’s go to show there’s no ill feeling.’

  She took another couple of pictures of the work in the Admiral’s garden. The metal framework of the marquee was now fully up, and the men were lifting up and then dropping the roof onto it.

  Leon went back to his laptop.

  Bea remembered something she’d meant to ask him. ‘You mentioned someone called “Zoe” before. She’s new, isn’t she?’

  ‘Fortyish, stylish, Cambridge degree, widow. Workaholic with a passion for maths. One child with asthma in private school. Has worked in the City. Despises me for not wanting to rule the world, but reluctantly concedes that I might do some good in the charitable area. She needs the enormous salary I pay her. Will be loyal unless I turn out to be an alkie, a druggie, or addicted to porn.’

  ‘A puritan?’

  ‘I suppose. She volunteered the information that she can work round the clock if necessary. I hope I never have to take advantage of her offer, but it’s good to know I always have back-up.’

  Bea registered that this Zoe might be worth inspection. Someone without many ties, available to work all hours … didn’t she have a life of her own? But perhaps Leon was sliding into the mind-set of the multibillionaire and thought that level of service normal. Perhaps it was, in his field.

  There was some coming and going down the path that had been beaten through the scrubby grass in Leon’s garden. Forensics. Men and women in onesies with hoods over their heads were carrying away sealed boxes of … whatever. They were taking the bones seriously, weren’t they? Bea shivered. The bones were nothing to do with her, of course, but she couldn’t help wondering how long they’d been there. Had they been there throughout the many years she’d lived in this house?

  Bea checked that the grille was locked over the window and pulled down the blind, wondering what she should wear tomorrow, and whether she could fit in a session at the beauty parlour first. It might help to reduce the swelling on her face.

  THREE

  Saturday, late afternoon

  Bea looked at her watch. Leon had said he’d pick her up at six forty-five and she was ready with only a few minutes to spare. She’d spent most of the day trying to repair the damage to her system with a facial, a manicure, shampoo and set. The swelling around her eyes had subsided, and she could now speak without coughing. She wore a brand-new outfit in oyster-shell silk, which did justice to her figure and screamed ‘expensive’ to those who would know about such things.

  Some time ago Leon had given her a diamond pendant on a fine chain, but it didn’t look right with this particular neckline, so she left it on her dressing table. She exchanged her everyday watch for a pretty trifle that had once been her mother’s, and which she only wore for parties since it wasn’t digital and needed constant adjustment.

  She also put on the diamond engagement ring which her second husband had given her. Leon didn’t like her wearing it because it reminded him that she still carried a torch for Hamilton … Well, tough!

  She felt some guilt about having left agency affairs to Carrie for the day, but she promised herself that she’d make up for it on Monday.

  As she pulled down the blind over her bedroom window, she noted that the forensics team was still in Leon’s garden; that the fallen tree still occupied hers … And the insurance man wasn’t due till Monday.

  Music from the Admiral’s garden drifted across the gap where the wall had been. She and her neighbours did occasionally have evening parties, but their high walls had done much to muffle and deflect noise. She realized that she was going to get the sound full blast this evening, and so was the rest of the neighbourhood.

  Leon rang the bell and she went down to let him in. He was wearing a white dress shirt under a blue cashmere sweater over designer jeans, and looked a bit of all right.

  He said, ‘I thought we could walk round there, stay for an hour and then go on somewhere for a bite to eat.’ He smiled. ‘You look good, Bea.’

  She ought to be accustomed to compliments at her age, but he wasn’t lavish with them and his eyes told her even more than his words did. She touched his cheek in a rare caress, and smiled back. ‘So do you.’ She checked she had her house keys, set the alarm and shut the front door behind them.

  Steps matching, they walked round the block into the next road. This terrace of houses had been built a little later, and to a different design from hers. The houses were larger, and a glass and ironwork porch protected the steps leading up to the front doors, whereas those in Bea’s street were protected by stucco-covered pillars and a solid roof. But there were some similarities. At the front of the Admiral’s house, there were steep area steps leading down to a basement, and Bea had already noticed that in his garden at the back, a balustrade protected a shallow flight of stairs leading down to similar semi-underground quarters.

  Before they reached the Admiral’s house, Leon paused to check on his own property next door. The board was still up giving details of the architect and builder who’d been responsible for the restoration of the building. The front door was shut and a policeman stood on guard. Yellow incident tape prevented access to the basement.

  The scaffolding had been taken down at the front. Mouldings had been carefully restored, window frames attended to, roof tiles matched and replaced. After which the whole front had been painted cream to match the rest of the terrace. Only the front door, and the iron railings that guarded the stairs down to what had once been the servants’ entrance, had been painted black.

  Bea scanned the house. ‘The builders have done a good job, haven’t they? A fitting residence for a tycoon. I wonder how many births and deaths this house has seen in its two-hundred-odd years. Babies being born, growing up, dying. Servants arriving and leaving. Coming-of-age parties, tuberculosis, the Spanish flu. Young men leaving for the wars: the Boer War, the First World War, the Second. You’re not afraid of ghosts, are you?’

  His grip tightened on her arm. ‘It took me ages to find this place. Large, well-proportioned rooms, high ceilings, good neighbourhood. I planned to use the basement for offices, and have the garden made over as a place to relax in. And, you were just over the wall.’

  ‘But?’ she said, noting his use of the past tense.

  ‘Mm. If someone has died in this house and been buried in the garden, I’m not comfortable about it. Was it murder? If it wasn’t murder, why would anyone w
ant to conceal a death? Can I live in a house where murder has been committed? I’m not sure. That’s why I want to go to this party. I know there’ll be the usual Barbie dolls wheeled out to try to catch my eye, and I know that some business people will want me to give them tips for the stock market. I’m used to deflecting both. But I’d like us to find out as much as we can about the people who used to live here.’

  ‘You met the woman who used to live here, didn’t you?’

  ‘Briefly, yes. I thought she was the genuine article, but maybe I was wrong. Will you help me find out more about her?’

  She nodded. Of course she’d help him.

  They turned their attention to number fifty-three, the Admiral’s house. Here was a different story. The plaster and the paintwork looked tired; the glass in one of the windows at the top of the house had been cracked but not replaced. However, well-dressed people were converging on the front door from all directions. Leon frowned. ‘Do you think the Admiral is short of money?’

  ‘Then why entertain on such a large scale?’

  He shook his head. ‘I suppose it depends on what he hopes to get out of the evening.’ They joined the queue to the door, moving into a cloud of strong perfume and aftershave.

  Bea noted teeteringly high heels, micro skirts, enhanced boobs, facelifts, wigs and dyed hair. Lots of Botox, not only for the women. There were quite a few examples of arm candy … women looking for a millionaire to take to the cleaners?

  The men wore expensive casual clothes but looked as if they’d be more at home in suits. Bankers? Financial gurus? Ahead of them in the queue, Bea spotted a well-known television personality, flashing charm around. Whitened teeth, false smiles, wary eyes. A general air of … what? Desperation?

  She couldn’t see a kindly expression on anyone’s face.

  She sighed. She was being taken out of her comfort zone. She knew Leon was right and that as soon as they got inside he’d be surrounded by people all wanting something from him. She also knew she’d be separated from him and, yes, she probably could find someone interesting to talk to, but she could think of more pleasant ways to spend an evening. Scrubbing floors, for instance.