In Search of Love, Money & Revenge

by Hilary Bailey

  Jasmine seemed to support Anstruther in getting what he wanted, perhaps because he was her guest. Annie herself, although a professional trafficker in old documents like the records of Threpp Street Workhouse in the late nineteenth century, believed that if Howard and Juliet wanted to keep the suitcase, burn it in the garden or give it to the British Museum in their wills, it was entirely up to them. Nor did she see why Anstruther should come rolling into the kitchen without warning in the early morning, catching her unwashed in her nightclothes and making Howard hide in his shed with the goats.

  Anstruther took his leave saying that Nigel had promised to show him a litter of hound puppies later on. After he had gone Annie asked, ‘Did you have to bring him round at crack of dawn?’

  ‘He’s so keen on those old papers,’ Jasmine said apologetically. ‘And, after all, what does it matter? They’d probably realise a useful sum. Howard and Juliet could do with some extra money at their age.’

  Annie was making more coffee as Juliet came in, saying, ‘Has he gone?’

  ‘It’s like The Aspern Papers,’ Annie said. Jasmine looked blank. Howard came in, followed by a goat, which he shooed out. ‘Can I have a look at what’s in the suitcase?’ she said.

  ‘If you really want to climb up to the attic.’ Howard’s tone was discouraging. ‘I must say I wish I’d never found the thing.’

  ‘You mean it’s still up there?’ Annie said, a trifle shocked.

  ‘It’s been perfectly all right up there for over forty years,’ he said. ‘The attic’s as dry as a bone. I’m sure it really belongs to the literary executors, but I can’t face them. One’s that boring man from Oxford and the other’s Juliet’s nephew, Rupert.’

  ‘He was an awful boy,’ Jasmine remembered. ‘He offered to drown Minnie’s kittens in a bucket. I’d never met a boy who wanted to drown kittens before. Get some clothes on, Annie. Let’s go for a walk.’

  They went out into the garden, mostly lawn. At the bottom, on the right, was Howard’s former study, in which a pregnant goat could be seen in a neat pen. Beyond the lawn the orchard began. Jasmine stopped under a tree.

  ‘You look awful, Annie,’ she said. ‘You must have been having a rotten time. Why didn’t you ring up? What have you been doing? Just sitting there?’

  ‘More or less.’

  Jasmine Fellows, her eyes very blue in her tanned face, looked at her sister and shook her head. ‘Oh dear. What happened?’

  As they walked on in bright sunshine, through the orchard and down the slope to the field below, Annie told her.

  ‘Got you to put your job on the computer beforehand!’ Jasmine exclaimed. ‘What a bastard!’

  ‘I’m still trying to believe it. How can a man who’s behaving like a perfectly normal person be concealing so much?’

  ‘Nature of the beast,’ Jasmine replied. ‘You’ve always been a bit naïve. I mean, you always had the brains, but not the guile. I got that, to make up for the shortage upstairs.’ She tapped her golden head.

  They had reached a stretch of pasture below the big house and were strolling across it. Almost a mile away, past the fields, gentle hills rose, green, scattered with clumps of bracken and gorse, glittering as the sun struck the moisture on grass and bushes.

  ‘Coffee,’ offered Jasmine, gesturing to the left, where the walls of the estate met the field. Annie nodded.

  ‘Nigel wanted to buy Froggett’s,’ Jasmine observed. ‘You know Bernard’s father was annoyed when old Froggett sold the house to Dad instead of him. Nigel was thinking now Howard and Juliet were getting older they might like to move to somewhere more convenient, with proper heating. They refused, of course.’

  ‘Was he annoyed?’

  ‘He guessed they wouldn’t accept.’

  The two women went through a tall iron gate set in the high brick wall. Inside, they found themselves in a small wood, from which a winding path led them to the lake. Skirting it, they walked to the long lawn in front of Durham House which was L-shaped, built of whitish stone, with a terrace running the length of the longer part of the L. Old steps led up to the terrace and french windows through which they entered the house. Crossing the dining room where a long polished table stood empty, they went through the hall and into a small sitting room, in which a fire burned.

  ‘Mary’s re-covered the chairs,’ observed Jasmine, sinking into a small chair, covered by fresh needlepoint.

  ‘Hours of work,’ Annie said, sitting down gingerly on the chair opposite. ‘I feel I oughtn’t to sit on this in such old trousers.’

  A woman in an overall came in. ‘Coffee, please, Mrs Bleasdale,’ Jasmine requested.

  Annie pulled a face. ‘I can’t get over all this grandeur.’

  ‘It’s got its disadvantages,’ Jasmine told her, evidently sobered by some thought. Then she grinned. ‘But I must say I enjoy it. Howard and Juliet can’t understand – they must be the only people in Great Britain who can make out it’s immoral to marry the man you love, who also happens to be very rich, and live in luxury. Of course, they earn their livings by being uncommercial so in fact being uncommercial is like a business for them – only they won’t see it that way. And they can’t see either that a lot of people don’t want to live like they do—’

  ‘Your side can’t see why Howard and Juliet do what they do …’ Annie said judiciously.

  ‘No. They think they’re sissies and cowards who won’t face the world as it is.’

  ‘I wish someone would tell me what this “world” people talk about is,’ Annie said despondently. ‘Where is it? What’s it like? Everyone informs me I don’t live in it – even Julian blamed me for that.’

  ‘Well, he would, wouldn’t he?’ said Jasmine. ‘He had to find some stick to beat you with. Still, I suppose he really is out there in it, the world where it’s dog eat dog and so forth—’

  Annie stared at her, thinking Jasmine must have learned this philosophy from Nigel. Then Jasmine broke off, asking, ‘What’s she like – Julian’s woman?’

  ‘She’s the person he should have married in the first place,’ Annie found herself saying.

  Mrs Bleasdale chose this moment to bring in the coffee and some chocolate digestive biscuits. Jasmine poured the coffee and helped herself to a biscuit. She looked at Annie as she handed her a cup. ‘What do you mean – should have married her?’

  Annie was still startled by what she’d said. ‘Well, I suppose she’s more like him. Anyway, she’s the kind who’s always known as “terrific fun”. You know, “Tamsin’s coming – she’s terrific fun”, “Of course, Tamsin’s a terrific hoot”. They’re all japes and anecdotes and telling everyone what fun it all is. I thought she was aggressive, but perhaps that’s because when we met she was after my husband, although I didn’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t put up much of a fight,’ remarked Jasmine, eating another biscuit. ‘Oh dear, Annie, it’s awful. What would you do if he suddenly came back?’

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ Annie said simply.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ moaned Jasmine. ‘I’d like to strangle him. I hope you’re doing all the sensible things – got a solicitor and all that.’

  ‘Sort of,’ Annie said.

  ‘Here—’ Jasmine said, leaping up. ‘Come and give me a hand with the flowers. I’ve got to check the dining room, drawing room and so forth to make sure all’s in order for another bout of gracious hospitality. Nigel’s driven the guests over to the Watkins’s stud farm but they’ll soon be back.’

  ‘Who are the guests?’ asked Annie, arranging laurel and chrysanthemums in an ornate vase.

  ‘A couple of German businessmen, somebody from the National Theatre in search of some backing – and Sam Anstruther, of course. I’m counting on you for Boxing Day – there’ll be more then.’

  Annie eyed her flower arrangement now on a small side table in the dining room. Leaves and branches, and a few flowers lay on the floor beside her.

  ‘What a mess,’ said Jasmine. ‘You’re far wors
e at it than I am. I wish Mary was here. She’s away visiting one of her sisters.’

  ‘I’d better go,’ Annie said. ‘I don’t want to bump into Sam Anstruther again today.’

  She walked back to Froggett’s across the peaceful fields.

  After Christmas Annie knew it was time she went back to London to sort out her affairs, make plans, find a job. Perhaps, too, she thought, Julian would get in touch.

  She packed and Howard drove her to the station past the static, frosty bushes and frozen stems of grass by the roadside. The fields were full of frozen pools of ice for the weather had turned much colder. Her father, in his leather coat and wellingtons, stood with her on the platform as the train came in. He looked older, and anxious.

  ‘I’ll come any time,’ he told her. ‘Do look after yourself, Annie.’ She got into the train, leaned out to wave to him as it pulled away, and he waved back.

  That was the night when she found Melanie Pickering in her doorway. Next day they had taken the long trip to Clapton, but found that Melanie’s uncle and aunt had moved out, gone to Gravesend, said the new tenant, but without leaving an address. ‘I expect we can track them down,’ Annie had told Melanie encouragingly but now, two weeks later, after many phone calls and enquiries, they still had no clue about where Jim and Muriel Allardyce were living; everything seemed to be drifting and Annie was becoming despondent.

  3

  A Business Offer is Made

  The lunchtime rush over, George’s was now empty except for Arnold, finishing his tea and considering if it was time for the library, Annie and Melanie, wondering if a private detective would be able to help in the search for Melanie’s Uncle Jim and a young woman who’d arrived late and now sat at a table in the cloudy window watching her toddler eating beans and some sausages, which she’d cut up in small pieces.

  George Kypragoras, proprietor of the café, came out of the kitchen and shouted to the young woman, ‘You’re looking very happy today, Vanessa.’

  ‘No wonder – I’ve just spent four hours at the DSS for nothing,’ she called back, ‘with a boy who hasn’t had a bite since breakfast. Geoff been in?’

  ‘No, Vanessa, he hasn’t and if he had I wouldn’t serve him.’ Then he added, ‘Hey – I need someone to keep an eye on things for a few hours while I go to see my solicitor. Business to discuss. You do it? There’s a fiver in it.’

  Vanessa looked up hopefully, then shook her head. ‘I’ll have to collect Joanne from school at four o’clock,’ she said.

  To Annie’s surprise, Melanie spoke up. ‘Excuse me – I can manage while you’re gone.’

  Head on one side, George Kypragoras considered. Then he said, ‘No. Insurance.’

  ‘All right,’ said Melanie. ‘I’ll collect the girl for a quid. I’ve got two young brothers – you wouldn’t have to worry.’

  Annie was impressed by Melanie’s speed and initiative and also by Vanessa’s rapid, speculative glance.

  ‘Or,’ Melanie suggested, ‘Annie and me can mind the café, while you go and get the girl. You can give us a quid or one of those big tins of beans you’ve got out there in the kitchen.’

  ‘Sort it out between you,’ George said, starting to take off his overall. He went into the kitchen and came back in a black overcoat.

  ‘We don’t need to be paid,’ Annie said.

  ‘Don’t we?’ countered Melanie. ‘Pardon me but I think we do. Anyway it’s something I fancy doing – serving teas and suchlike.’ She went up to the counter and asked George for three more teas, daring him, as he took some money from the till and put it in his wallet, to ask for payment. But all he said was, ‘I don’t want my café left unattended,’ and departed quickly saying he would be back by five.

  Melanie took one of the teas over to Vanessa and said, ‘Excuse me, but haven’t I seen you in Rutherford Street?’

  ‘Yes – I live at number forty-two,’ said Vanessa. ‘I think I’ve seen you.’

  ‘I’m living temporarily with Mrs Vane at number twenty-seven. My name’s Melanie. What’s yours?’

  ‘Vanessa,’ she replied. ‘You’re from up north?’ Everyone knew northerners were like this, a bit pushy. She nodded to Annie, ‘That was you at the dentist’s about a week ago, wasn’t it?’

  Melanie looked from one to the other. Two women who lived in the same small street and they barely recognised each other. It seemed incredible.

  ‘That’s right,’ Annie agreed. ‘Melanie had an abscess. Mr Rothko just about saved the tooth.’

  ‘Half my front tooth fell out on Christmas Day. Nice, wasn’t it? I could’ve screamed.’ Vanessa looked from Annie to Melanie and back again. She couldn’t understand what the set-up was. Melanie with her northern accent and cheap clothes didn’t look as if she could have anything to do with Annie Vane. She recalled old Mrs Hodges next door telling her that on Christmas Eve she’d seen two men loading furniture from number twenty-seven into a small van. One of the men was the owner of the house – Annie’s husband, that must be.

  ‘And who’re you?’ Melanie asked Alec, who was sitting on his mother’s knee. He looked at her cautiously. He was upset. His father didn’t come home, his mother was unhappy, his sister was saying his dad had gone away and wasn’t coming back, a girl in her class at school had told her but he wasn’t to tell Mum. But he’d forgotten not to say, so he’d told her and that hadn’t made it better, but worse, because she’d cried. He’d almost forgotten it all now but he’d been feeling his mother’s grief for weeks, like a big, dark cloud hanging over everything. And he missed his dad.

  ‘He’s Alec,’ said Vanessa.

  They both looked depressed, reflected Melanie, continuing, ‘Quiet little chap, aren’t you? Bet you’ve got a lovely smile, though, when you try? Eh? Why don’t you show us?’

  Vanessa began to feel tired of this extrovert thirteen-year-old who had volunteered for the small job George had offered her.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Melanie said to Alec. ‘Never mind. Keep trying. It’ll come out right in the end.’

  Annie noted that for much of the time they’d been together Melanie must have been subduing a lively personality, as if she, Annie, were a teacher, a doctor, someone in authority.

  Suddenly, Alec confided in Melanie, ‘My dad’s gone away.’

  Vanessa rushed in. ‘Kids,’ she said, ‘they’ll say anything, won’t they?’

  Annie saw tears beginning in her eyes.

  ‘Is it time to go and collect your little girl?’ said Melanie.

  ‘Not for half an hour,’ Vanessa replied, getting up. She doubted if Annie had taken in the information Alec had imparted. The girl had at least shown a little tact in the situation. From behind the counter, Alec beside her but invisible, she said, ‘I suppose I’m only here to guard the till, really. Still, I might as well wash out this display cabinet while I’m here.’ She put Alec at a table in front of the counter and took some toy cars from her bag. ‘Here, Alec, play with these for a bit and keep out of Mummy’s way.’

  ‘Where’s Joanne?’ he asked.

  ‘I keep on telling you. She’s had to go back to school. She’ll be back in a little while,’ replied Vanessa. It hadn’t helped when Joanne had gone back at the end of the holidays. She was alone with Alec in the house now and sometimes she wasn’t up to dealing with him. She was always telling him to keep quiet and sometimes her nerves were so stretched that she shouted at him. She regretted it later, but that didn’t help. Her mother took him occasionally, but had told her Cherry couldn’t help, being so occupied with her own home and family.

  Melanie produced a comic from her pocket and began to read. Annie returned to her thoughts. The building society statement she’d phoned for had not yet arrived but the bank statement had turned up showing that Julian had withdrawn £1800 from the account before Christmas, leaving her with a little under £250. Imagining he might have made a swift transfer into the account of Vane Graphics, to cover an emergency – although, she thought, it was some time since the com
pany had had to operate on that basis – she rang the bank and asked for a copy of the company account to be sent to her, to find that the manager had instructions that in future the company accounts were to be seen only by Mr Vane and that he understood she had resigned her directorship. If Julian had emptied the joint account, she’d better go to him and ask for the return of a £10,000 legacy she’d received two years before, and given him for computers for the firm. She felt numb. He hadn’t been in touch since she’d returned and when she’d screwed herself up to ring the firm – she didn’t know where he was living and didn’t like to ask people who might know – she’d been told by the switchboard operator that he was at a meeting. ‘I’m very sorry,’ the woman had said, sounding as if she were sorry about more than Julian’s temporary unavailability.

  Annie was now struggling not to believe facts which were adding up to a conclusion she couldn’t face – Julian had sacked her, taken nearly everything from the bank account and come round with a van to remove things from the house when he knew she was away. At the back of her mind she worried about the mortgage. What was left in the bank wouldn’t meet the payments and the situation might be even worse than that. She’d have to find a job soon. She could borrow a few hundred pounds from her parents or from Jasmine, but her parents had little money, she knew, and Jasmine only her allowance from Nigel. What did people in her position do? Try the BBC, publishing, apply for an academic post? Such things would take time and she knew that vacancies were few. Times were hard and she had no experience. She supposed she might get a teaching qualification and work in a school, but, again, that would take time and, little as she was prepared to confront the fact that Julian had apparently asset-stripped her, she had a sense that her need for money in the short term meant she could not afford to delay, unless she could get her £10,000 back fairly quickly.