False Wall

by Veronica Heley

  The door to the Admiral’s house creaked open.

  ‘Have you forgotten your keys again?’ Lady Payne, in a red silk top over black jeans; very stylish. Who had she been expecting? Not Bea. ‘What, you again!’ She fell back, looking wildly over her shoulder … for reinforcements? From the back of the house – the kitchen? – came the sounds of someone cooking. That wouldn’t be the Admiral though, would it?

  Piers brushed past Bea into the hall. ‘Good evening, Lady Payne. Yes, it’s us again.’

  Bea was all smiles. ‘Sorry if it’s an inconvenient time but—’

  ‘I thought you’d moved away!’

  Bea said, ‘I came to collect my watch. It was my mother’s, you know. Sentimental value.’

  Piers was taking a picture of the pseudo-Sargent on his phone. ‘I say, where did you get this?’

  ‘Who, what?’ Lady Payne turned from one to the other. Definitely knocked off balance.

  Someone rang a sharp ‘ting!’ on the doorbell behind Bea, and pushed the door open to enter. The three youngsters. When they saw Bea they rocked back on their heels. The sharp-eyed blonde, Venetia, was in the lead, followed closely by two lads in their late teens or early twenties whom Bea recognized from the party. They bore all the signs of a day spent in the sun; reddened skins, grass-stained jeans, jackets draped over shoulders and tousled hair. Had they been to Henley to watch the boat racing? Or been punting on the Isis at Oxford?

  The girl was wearing Bea’s watch.

  ‘Whoa!’ said the older of the boys, car keys in one hand, a six-pack of beer dangling from the other. He stood close to Venetia, who didn’t seem to resent his invasion of her space. He looked Bea up and down, and clearly knew who she was. With a grin which conveyed the message, I know something you don’t! he said, ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’

  ‘I’m Mrs Abbot,’ said Bea, refusing to rise to his mockery. ‘From across the way. And you are …?’

  ‘Venetia,’ said the girl, dropping her bags and jacket on the floor. ‘And he’s Sir Gideon. A Bart, in case you don’t know about such things.’ Insolent, very. Making it clear that she didn’t think Bea was educated enough to know what a baronet might be.

  ‘And I’m your neighbour from across the wall,’ said Bea, deciding not to notice the slur, and switching to a slightly-silly-little-woman mode. ‘I became ill after your party, and have just come out of hospital – they say not food poisoning, and I’m sure you weren’t to blame, though I suppose they’ll find out what it was when they’ve completed all their tests and so on. I am just about to fly away for a few days, but first I wanted to pick up my watch, which I see Venetia has kindly managed to find for me. So good of you, dear. May I?’ And she held out her hand for her watch.

  Venetia glanced at Gideon. A subtle smile. Bea watched her decide to play to the gallery.

  ‘So sorry,’ Venetia said, in a creamy tone. She didn’t sound sorry. She sounded as if she were choking back laughter. ‘But it isn’t yours. It’s mine. Given me by my grandmother.’

  Bea countered that. ‘Being an old-fashioned wind-up watch, it tends to lose or gain at least five minutes a day. Which is it? Gain or lose?’

  A shrug. ‘I don’t worry my head about things like that.’

  ‘I have photographs and insurance cover on that watch.’

  ‘So what? Finders keepers. It’s mine now.’

  TWELVE

  It was time for Bea to bring up the heavy guns. ‘You know I managed to retrieve my phone and powder compact, which I also “mislaid” the other night? All three appear to have been used by someone without my permission. I’ve sent them to the lab for fingerprint identification. Perhaps you’d like to give me your fingerprints for comparison purposes?’

  An indrawn breath from someone in the group. Who? Lady Payne?

  The lad Gideon frowned and looked to Venetia for a lead. Venetia grimaced, understanding that her bluff had been called.

  Lady Payne said, ‘You’re not thinking of going to the police?’

  ‘That depends,’ said Bea, smiling.

  Lady Payne frowned. ‘You’re trying to blackmail me?’

  ‘Such an emotive word. And double-edged, don’t you think?’ In other words, both sides held some good cards in this poker game.

  ‘You won’t dare go to the police!’ Venetia, laughing. Knowing exactly what cards each side held.

  ‘Venetia, give her the watch!’ Lady Payne, warning the girl not to rock this particular boat?

  Sulkily, Venetia undid the clasp on the watch, held it out at arm’s length … and let it drop on to the floor.

  Bea nearly screamed. If the girl had broken the watch …! Bea noticed that Piers was standing well back from the group. He had his camera out. Bea hoped he’d managed to record the moment when Venetia deliberately dropped the watch.

  Gideon laughed, open-mouthed. He was slightly buck-toothed but he had a title, so Bea supposed that would make up for it in the eyes of the girls. The other boy – slightly younger than the other two? – was hanging back, also laughing. Venetia looked pleased with herself. Lady Payne looked grim.

  Piers picked the watch up off the floor, held it to his ear, smiled and handed it to Bea with a bow. ‘It’s still going. You can always bill Venetia if it needs attention.’

  ‘So I can,’ said Bea, trying not to let her voice wobble. ‘The young have to take responsibility for their actions. I assume Venetia is over eighteen? She certainly looks it.’

  Venetia shrugged. She said, ‘When’s supper? We’re going out, after.’ Presumably there was someone in the kitchen, preparing a meal for the family? Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared in that direction, saying, ‘Bon voyage, Mrs Abbot.’

  All Bea wanted was to get out of there. She turned to go, only to find Gideon looking at her with narrowed eyes, swinging a six-pack of beer in a plastic bag to and fro. Presumably the beer was meant for the evening meal? He wasn’t proposing to hit her with it, was he? Er, yes. Possibly. She told herself to shift, and found herself stuck to the floor.

  Click! Piers had caught the lad in the act.

  ‘Gideon!’ Lady Payne, warning him.

  Gideon roared with laughter, but stopped swinging the six-pack. With his eyes still on Bea, he echoed Venetia. ‘Yes, what is for supper? I could eat a horse.’

  The youngest of the trio, a thin-faced lad who looked like a smudged copy of Gideon, muttered, ‘Excuse me,’ and slid round Bea to disappear down the hall.

  Bea unstuck herself and turned to Lady Payne, enthusing, ‘Thank you so much. And yes, of course I’ll bill you for the damage to the watch. So kind. I do hope that nobody else had food poisoning after the party. So awkward for you. And now, we really must be going.’

  ‘One minute. Where are you living now? You’ve moved out of your house?’

  ‘Oh, locally. You know? Friends have been so good.’

  Stony-faced, Lady Payne shut the door behind them.

  Bea descended into the street slowly, with care. Piers spoke into his phone. ‘Hari? All’s well. We’re on our way back.’

  They walked along, in step with one another.

  Bea said, ‘Venetia’s the leader of the gang. It will be her fingerprints on my phone and powder compact. She’s older than the other two, I think. Certainly not under-age.’

  Piers nodded, checking the shots he’d taken on his phone. ‘The frame on the painting in the hall states that the portrait is by Sargent. It isn’t. There’s a small Cotman by the stairs. That’s genuine. I think someone’s been selling off the family jewels and substituting copies in an attempt to fool the general populace.’

  They turned the corner into the main road. Traffic, loud.

  Bea said, ‘Gideon was the arsonist, at Venetia’s bidding. The Admiral and his lady may have started on this persecution of me, but the youngsters have enthusiastically taken it over. Can their elders still control them? Doubtful.’

  ‘Is Venetia a psychopath, do you think?’

  �
��My guess is that she and Gideon are sleeping together. Cousins, do you suppose?’

  He nodded. ‘Looks like it.’

  Suddenly she felt it was all too much. She reached out and caught hold of the railing nearby, and stood there, head hanging … for a count of five.

  Piers said, ‘Come on, then,’ and put his arm round her, holding her up and close to him.

  She said, ‘I’m sorry …’ She was close to tears. She despised herself for it.

  ‘It’s all right. I’m here.’

  She tried to relax against him. Was too wound up to do so.

  He rested his head against the top of hers. ‘I know I’ve let you down in the past. Many times. I can’t promise I’ll do any better in the future. You know what I’m like. But I’m here for you now.’

  She nodded, managed to get herself upright and, with his arm round her, made it to her house.

  Hari had given her some new keys? Yes, she had them … but the door opened at her approach.

  ‘Mrs A! I turn my back for five minutes!’ Oliver, her beloved sort-of-adopted son, of mixed race, brighter than any button she’d ever seen and a total blessing. He picked her up bodily and carried her into the kitchen.

  ‘Oliver! Put me down, at once!’ She protested, laughing, but not too much. Once upon a time she had been able to pick him up and give him a cuddle, but that was a long time ago when he was just a stripling, and not someone important in the physics world, or wherever it was that he flourished. He’d shot up in height and put on weight since the time she’d taken him in, hadn’t he? He was even, she noticed with amusement, growing a beard.

  Oliver deposited her on a stool and handed her the box of tissues – gritty, but still usable. Winston, who was sitting on the table where he ought not to be, nosed her gently, understanding that she was not quite herself, but still enquiring whether or not she was able to feed him, now!

  Bea said, banging tissues on her eyes. ‘I am an idiot! Oh, Oliver, I am so glad to see you! And Hari, and Piers, too. Of course. Forgive me, I must be growing old.’

  ‘Nothing to do with fighting off a powerful drug, of course,’ said Hari, switching off his phone and smiling at her. ‘You should try to take it easy for a while. Everything’s under control. Anna’s back home, wants to know if you need anything putting through her washing machine tonight.’

  Bea shook her head. She couldn’t think about that now.

  Oliver put the kettle on. What a sensible person he was! Strong, hot tea was just what she needed. He said, ‘Maggie’s been on the phone, updating me. I am well able to take some time off, so consider me at your service.’

  Winston nosed her arm again. He did, occasionally, show her some affection. She wasn’t fooled. This was cupboard love. She was his servant, the source of his food and provider of a comfortable home. However, he did understand that this was a two-way contract, and he was prepared to allow himself to be cuddled and stroked – for a limited period of time, of course. And only by those he trusted.

  Bea picked him up and cuddled him. ‘You great, fluffy … ugh! You smell of fish! Where have you been today, eh?’

  He didn’t reply, but stretched himself out in her arms, making himself comfortable, blinking at her with great yellow eyes.

  Piers was bringing the others up to date. ‘So we got out without loss of face, and they understand we have enough to go the police. As I see it, they can’t use the DNA against Leon while we have their fingerprints on Bea’s phone and cosmetics. Bea also made it clear that they can’t just raid us to collect and destroy the evidence against them, because she’s already sent it to the lab. Checkmate.’

  Bea stirred herself. ‘Has my other lodger turned up yet? I’ve tried and tried to phone him, to tell him not to come, but couldn’t get through.’

  ‘Orange trousers, green hair?’ That was Hari. ‘He turned up, accompanied by a long lad covered with tattoos and wearing ripped jeans and T-shirt ditto. I explained what had happened, stressing that we had no hot water or lighting. He communed with his friend and decided to move out till things get sorted. I let him upstairs to pack a few things. He was predictably horrified by all Piers’s stuff in his bedroom, which prompted him to say that he’d come back for the rest of his things tomorrow. I didn’t think you’d object.’

  ‘No,’ said Bea. ‘It was never meant to be anything but a temporary arrangement.’ And she didn’t really need his rent money. Correction; with all the expenses she was incurring, she probably did need his rent money. Well, she’d think about that tomorrow.

  Hari continued, ‘To give him his due, orange jeans did ask if there was anything he could do to help and I said not really, so he said he’d ring you tomorrow to see how you were getting on.’

  Good of him. He wasn’t quite as self-centred as she’d expected him to be.

  ‘Splendid,’ said Oliver, ‘because I’m moving back in for the duration.’

  He can’t stay that long. He’s got his own career to think of.

  Piers was trying to be helpful, too. ‘Bea, you can’t do anything else tonight. Why don’t you rest for a while? Now that Oliver’s here, he and Hari and I can take it in turns to keep watch.’

  Bea struggled to her feet, dislodging Winston, much to his annoyance. She could see the cat thinking – hadn’t he suffered enough this weekend? He’d been thrown out of his refuge in the tree, been forced to hide in the stationery cupboard, been groomed by a stranger, and – what with all the banging and thumping that had been going on – couldn’t they see he needed a stable, warm lap to sit on for a while?

  Bea pushed Winston to the floor. ‘I think I can make it upstairs. Call me if there’s a problem.’

  She got as far as the door before turning to say, ‘The youngsters. They’re the danger now. They’re out of control, don’t know when to stop. Acting as a group, they’ll take more risks than individuals, right?’

  Hari said, softly, ‘What do you know, Bea?’

  ‘I don’t know anything.’ Irritably. ‘But they’ll think of something. They’re having a meal and tanking up on beer at this moment, making plans. I don’t think they’ve got jobs … perhaps they’re at university, college, whatever? They don’t look like responsible, wage-earning people to me. I wonder, will they attack Leon’s house? No. They didn’t before and I don’t think they’ll try it now … and don’t ask me to back up that statement with proof, because I can’t. They might attack my car. It’s parked in the street. I haven’t used it for a couple of days. But would they know which car it was? No. So it’s water. The water company can turn off our supply from the meter in the pavement outside. If the youngsters turned off our water, we couldn’t remain in the house, could we? Oh, I don’t know. I’m probably imagining things.’

  Oliver said, ‘Right, we’ll give that some thought.’ He collected a mug of tea with a lid on it with one hand, slung Winston over his shoulder, and urged Bea up the stairs. ‘Come on. Let’s see you settled on the settee, with a rug over your feet.’

  Up they went into her new sitting room. It was quiet and peaceful there, with the evening sun streaming through the window. The settee was in its usual place. She let herself down on to it, and Oliver deposited Winston in her lap. That great fluffy creature started to purr. She could see him thinking that this was more like it. His servant was lying down so that he could make himself comfortable on her. Good. He licked her hand to show his appreciation … which reminded him that his fur could do with a good clean.

  Bea knew Winston wouldn’t settle till he had finished his toilet, but she accepted the mug of tea from Oliver, and sipped it. Oliver moved a small table to her side.

  She smiled at him, remembering the homeless waif she’d taken in so long ago, and thinking that his adopting parents would never recognize him now. Growing a beard suited him. She wondered if he’d ever tried to find his birth mother. He’d always said he didn’t need to do that, but … Soon he’d be bringing a girl back home. Bea didn’t think he was sleeping around. She migh
t be wrong about that. But she wouldn’t ask him.

  ‘Settle down,’ he said, taking the empty mug off her.

  She wouldn’t sleep. She knew she wouldn’t. Winston was steadily working his tongue over his whole body. ‘Leon is supposed to be ringing.’

  ‘Give me your phone. If he does, I’ll come and wake you.’

  She closed her eyes …

  … and opened them, thinking that something was wrong. Winston was fast asleep, stretched out lengthways between her and the back of the settee. A rug was over her legs. She was warm and felt rested, but … She yawned.

  Was the light fading? She must have slept for quite a while.

  Oliver came into the room, carrying a tray. Some tinned soup, with bread and cheese.

  She sat up with care, so as not to disturb Winston. ‘Everything’s all right?’

  ‘So far. Piers has disappeared upstairs to paint. Hari’s mooching around, doing something with a camera and some trip wire. There’s nothing happening in any of the gardens. I’ve dealt with all the messages that have been piling up on your phones. There’s nothing there that jumped out at me. I’ve tried to contact Leon. So far he’s not accepting calls.’ He put the tray on her lap. ‘Eat up. And then, could you bear to talk me through everything that’s happened? I want to make a recording, so don’t miss anything out.’

  He placed a miniature recorder on the table. ‘By the way, Hari thinks you’re right about their targeting our water supply, so he’s taking precautions. Who have you been upsetting, Mrs A?’

  ‘I wish I knew. Apart from the Payne family, that is. But, even there, I can’t see why they should have it in for me. Even if they could pin the fall of the wall on me, what they’ve done doesn’t make any sense.’ The soup was good. So was the bread and cheese.

  When she’d finished, he said, ‘Now, start from the beginning, with the fall of the wall. I want the facts, yes, but I’d also like you to give me every suspicion or conclusion or stray thought that might have crossed your mind. I want names and dates as far as you know them. I want catty comments about these people, the way they dress and act, the way they furnish their house. I want to know who their friends are. I want masses of speculation, preferably libellous. I want you to give it to me off the top of your head, with wild surmises thrown in. You have a brilliant memory for detail and you understand people. So start. We have plenty of time.’