Murder In Law

by Veronica Heley

  Lesley gratefully accepted and gradually replaced her ‘lost’ look with the air of one who had lived through a storm and come out the other side. She often dropped in for supper and a chat. Why not, when Susan was doing the cooking?

  Rafael soon realized it was no use trying to work from an office downstairs particularly as Jenny had an uncanny ability to sneak in and fiddle with his computer, so he put a gate across the stairs to the attic floor and made himself a nest at the top of the house. The reception for his computer was better there, too.

  The police checked out the two flats in which Rafael thought Diana might have taken refuge. They discovered that yes, she had been using one of them but had since departed. And yes, she had stayed for a few days at the hotel in a room on the top floor overlooking the back of Susan’s house … but hadn’t been seen since. Oh, and the bill was still outstanding.

  Marcy masterminded the final polish on Ellie and Thomas’s house, even finding a gardener who knew what he was doing and who set about restoring the grounds and the conservatory to what they were meant to be. Fortunately or otherwise, Ellie and Thomas’s return was delayed yet again – this time to be present at the christening of one of his granddaughters – which allowed time for the new planting in her garden to settle down.

  Marcy then moved on to working full-time for the trust, which suited all concerned. Her first job there was to make Evan and Diana’s old house ready to re-let.

  Evan’s funeral was arranged by his elder daughter Freya. Diana did attend, as did both Rafael and Susan. Evan’s will was simple. He’d left the agency and the contents of the house to Diana, expressing the wish that his daughter Freya might be allowed to take some pieces of furniture from what had been her childhood home if she so wished.

  After the funeral, Diana said that she was in consultation to sell the agency and the contents of the house – less the one or two pieces which Freya might wish to remove. She said that as she had not yet settled where she would live, it was not convenient …

  Not convenient!

  … for her to reclaim her children at the moment, and that she assumed they might stay with Rafael and Susan for the time being.

  She suggested that the children’s half-sister, Freya, should become their guardian while Rafael and Susan were appointed long-term foster parents. The nerve of the woman!

  So various agencies had to be consulted and involved.

  Neither child seemed to be missing their mother, but taking on the two children officially was an enormous commitment for Susan and Rafael to have to make. Evan had already wound himself into Susan’s heart. She loved him to bits and he seemed to understand that and to reciprocate. Jenny was another matter: a toy-snatching, whiny, telly-and-tablet-watching couch potato.

  Susan quailed at the thought of taking her on.

  Then she remembered that Ellie used to say it didn’t matter where the love for a child came from, so long as they were given it from somebody. Could Susan manage to love such a spiky child? She decided that she must try. No matter what it cost, and no matter how many battles there would be ahead. With Rafael and Coralie to help her, fostering the children was the right thing to do.

  Rafael bought the children a rocking horse, a trampoline and a set of cricket bats, and taught the older two how to play in the back garden. Susan taught Evan to read and write, while Fifi and Midge worked out how to deal with the enlargement of their family. They ignored bad behaviour and rewarded good, just as Susan did.

  Then one afternoon, the doorbell rang and there she was, the Wicked Witch of the North.

  Black and white, with a flash of scarlet at her throat. Susan estimated that Diana’s handbag and shoes alone had cost as much as the council tax on a three-bedroom house. She was backed by a brand-new car which had a self-satisfied gleam to its paintwork.

  Susan, with Fifi on her hip, thought for one awful moment that Diana had come to reclaim the children. And if so …? Oh dear. How ever could she bear to let them go?

  She instructed herself not to gape, conscious of wearing baggy T-shirt and maternity jeans, both of which were patched with flour from the shortcrust pastry she was making with the children.

  Diana said, ‘I understand my mother has delayed her return by yet another fortnight. I suspect she’s allowed herself to be taken advantage of by Thomas’s family, and has forgotten all about us. Anyway, I’m on my way to the airport for a long-overdue holiday, so I thought I’d drop in some presents for the children. Otherwise’ – a tinkling laugh – ‘they might forget their mother.’

  What a relief!

  Diana handed over two perfectly wrapped boxes bearing a Harrods label, which Susan fielded with some difficulty. Susan said, ‘You’ll come in for a while?’

  Diana hesitated. Was that a twinge of regret? She glanced sideways at the car with its tinted windows. Was someone sitting in the car, waiting for her? Keith Cottrell, or some other helpful ‘friend’?

  ‘No, no. No time. It would be too painful for me …’ Did Diana really wipe a tear from her eye? Well, if she did, she soon recovered. ‘When I’m settled, I’ll speak to them on Skype. I see you’re due another baby yourself? A pity you can’t find better maternity outfits. I always tried to look my best for my husband.’

  Susan set her teeth. So, Diana thought Susan dressed badly? Well, yes. By comparison, perhaps she did. Susan thought of how Diana’s selfish actions had led to the deaths of her husband and the lookout boy, had landed Lucia in hospital and Lesley in a neck brace. Acid words burned Susan’s tongue. And then she relaxed. Diana had done her best to keep her husband, his house and the business running when money had been short, and she’d sat beside him and held his hand when he was dying. There must be some good there, wasn’t there?

  So she said nothing but watched as Diana inserted herself into the passenger seat of the expensive car and was driven away.

  ‘Pooh!’ said Fifi, as a gust of car fumes drifted back to them.

  ‘That’s right, poppet,’ said Susan, closing the door on the outside world. ‘That car looks good, but its engine requires attention. You can’t always judge by appearances. Now, where were we …?’