The House Party

by Mary Grand

  Beth felt the full force of the challenge, the intimidation, in Imogen’s words. She dug deep, and found the courage to say, ‘Your car may have been here, but you went out for a long walk, didn’t you? From half six until, what, about ten past seven? If you could have found a car—’

  As if in slow motion Imogen’s hand let go of the glass and it fell into her lap. She grabbed some tissues and mopped up.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, you weren’t at school during that time.’

  ‘I often go for a walk to clear my head. I don’t go around stealing cars, by the way. Really, Beth, you need to get a grip on this. You should know your limitations.’

  Imogen stood up, signalling it was time to leave.

  Beth took her cue but was upset. ‘Know your limitations.’ How dare she?

  ‘I’ll leave you now,’ Beth said, her voice shaking, ‘but I’ve no intention of giving in. I am determined to find out what happened to Kathleen.’ With more confidence than she felt, Beth strode out of the room.

  After lunch, to Beth’s surprise, Sean and Conor called round. The look of relief on Sean’s face told the whole story. She invited them into the living room. Sean chose a comfy armchair. Conor sat on the edge of a desk chair.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind us calling in.’

  ‘Of course not. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘We’re not stopping. I was giving Conor a lift to collect his bike from the garage, but I wanted to tell you the good news. Pat has been released. He hasn’t been charged.’

  ‘That was quick. He’s free?’

  ‘Yes, thank God. They don’t want to charge him. The police, of course, won’t tell me much, but I had a phone call from that nun, the one I told you about who was so friendly. She heard about Patrick’s arrest and contacted the police. Apparently, she’d seen Patrick’s car parked that morning at about seven when she went to prayer. It shows he couldn’t have gone over to Freshwater.’

  ‘What about the motive?’

  ‘From what Patrick tells me I assume the police have decided that he really did believe Kathleen’s pregnancy to be a miracle.’

  ‘I’m surprised.’

  ‘I know, but there are a few things Pat had never told me that he told them. One was about some article he’d printed off the internet talking about miracle babies born to people in his position. It was in his drawer at home. He told the police about similar articles he’d read online. He also told them to talk to his priest in Ireland. He’d emailed him when he realised Kathleen was pregnant and asked him to pray for the safe delivery of his miracle baby.’

  Beth stared. ‘I never realised—’

  ‘No. He was embarrassed, I think, to talk about it, but it seems he really did believe it was possible. You know how people sometimes look for anything that might bolster up a faint hope? It’s what he did.’

  ‘But he never even said anything to Kathleen when he found out?’

  ‘He wanted her to tell him, a kind of superstition I think.’ Sean stood up. ‘OK, then. We’d better make a move.’

  ‘Thank you for letting me know,’ said Beth.

  ‘Yes, we can organise the funeral now, all try to rebuild our lives,’ said Sean.

  That evening Beth told Sami about Patrick, and he responded, ‘That’s good news. As incredible as it seems, I can believe that.’

  Beth could see he was willing to accept it all; so maybe she was being too cynical? In any case, Sami moved on quickly, ‘I’ve some good news about our time away.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Alex has offered his house for us to stay in.’

  ‘That’s fantastic. Which days then?’

  ‘We could go on Monday. I will lecture on the Tuesday and Wednesday, but I’ll make sure I finish early so all the rest of the time and the evenings will be free.’

  ‘It’s not much of a holiday for you.’

  ‘It’ll be fun. I never see anything of London. We’ll go out for nice meals and things as well. Come on, we never go to the theatre or museums.’

  Beth could see he was excited, and why not?

  ‘Great. But we don’t know if we can get tickets for anything—’

  ‘I bet we can, and it’s cheaper last minute and in the week. I’ll have a look and see what’s going.’

  Beth returned to her laptop and grinned, feeling like some amateur sleuth. It was all quite exciting.

  That night she slept better than she had for a while. It would be good to get away, just her and Sami, and who knew what she might find out?

  She went out early the next morning with Ollie and was busy watching him chasing a pheasant when her phone rang. Without thinking, she answered it.

  ‘I told you to stop obsessing about Kathleen. I’m not playing games. I know everything you do and say. Go to the police again and I will ruin you. I know your secret.’

  It was the same number, the same voice, but for all the threat Beth wondered why, if they knew her secret, they didn’t at least hint at it. If they really knew anything, why not say? They were dead set on trying to scare her, which must mean she was getting closer; she could feel it. She wasn’t going to tell anyone about this call. The caller was right: it wasn’t a game. She was serious. She would keep digging until she found out the truth.

  24

  On Monday Sami and Beth travelled to London. There had been, as usual, more last-minute things to do than expected.

  Beth arranged her lists on the kitchen table about the care of Ollie and the guinea pigs; food that was prepared or needed to be taken out of the freezer; remembering to lock the house when they left; shut windows when they went to bed; not to forget their keys, and so on. She also wrote down the address and phone number of Alex’s house, knowing they would be ignored, and they would just use their mobiles.

  After Ollie’s shorter than usual walk, Beth found Layla eating breakfast.

  ‘We’re off, you won’t forget Ollie or the guinea pigs, will you?’

  ‘Of course not. You know I’ll do them any time.’

  Beth grinned but didn’t pick her up on it. ‘Thanks. Text me if there is anything.’ She turned to Sami. ‘Is anyone covering you up at the Hendersons’?’

  ‘Yes. I asked Alex. He said he would enjoy the cycle up there.’ He turned to Layla, ‘No wild parties while we are away, OK?’

  ‘Oh no, and I’ve posted the party me and Adam are having tomorrow on Facebook. I’ll try to cancel it. Have to hope no one turns up, won’t we?’

  ‘Not funny,’ said Sami, scowling.

  Layla laughed. ‘Just go.’

  Beth went up to see Adam. ‘We’re off, Layla’s going to look after the animals, but can you check everything is locked up? Oh, and make sure you put the bins out tomorrow, and bring them back in. There are lists on the kitchen table.’

  ‘Oh, you off somewhere?’

  ‘I’ve told you loads of times. Me and Dad are going to London.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Right.’ Beth didn’t find that particularly reassuring, but Sami was calling her. ‘Come on. The taxi is here, quick.’ And so, with many misgivings, Beth left the house.

  On the Red Jet she sent a text to Layla to make sure she also locked up when she left the house, and not to forget to make sure there was always water down for Ollie.

  At Waterloo, she started to feel she was getting away. Getting off the train in London was, as always, a shock. Beth didn’t come up often, and was not used to the crowds, the noise, the smells of the city. She felt a county bumpkin when she looked at the sophisticated women who even in casual wear looked a lot smarter than her. However, she also noticed the homeless people begging, young kids sleeping rough, things she hardly ever saw on the island. The poverty on the island tended to be more hidden away. Coming here was a reminder not to forget it was still there.

  They walked from the tube to Alex’s house in Canonbury: a tall, white Victorian house in a crescent with a small green area in front of it. It was pleasant, but to get i
n they had to go through a complicated alarm system, including private cameras, which Sami navigated.

  The inside was very smart: antique furniture and classic prints. There were also photographs of a dancer, who Beth assumed was Amy. She had that way of standing, like a thoroughbred racehorse, every sinew tight, highly charged. In the living room she saw a large glass cabinet full of cups and trophies. It made her realise for the first time just how talented Amy must have been.

  ‘It’s more elegant than I expected. I can see why Imogen said the flat must be a come down for Alex.’

  ‘I think the house originally belonged to Amy’s parents. Remember, Alex said they were well off. By the way, Alex asked us to use the spare bedroom.’

  Beth found it quite thrilling to be away, just the two of them in this beautiful house. She realised how much she and Sami had needed a break from the island and all the stress they’d had.

  In the evening they walked to one of the Middle Eastern restaurants Sami had researched. The food was wonderful. Although Sami had moved to Wales as a child, his Iraqi roots were strong, and food was a very important part of that. His mother was an amazing cook. Beth, when she visited, was never so much as offered a packet of biscuits: everything was beautifully, and to Beth exotically, home-made. As if reading her mind, Sami said, ‘We should try to get out to my parents one day. It’s been a few years since they saw the children.’

  ‘I don’t forget about visiting them. One day—’

  ‘I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. They could come to us: they know that. They could afford it. But still, I’d like to see them. We’ll have to see what we can plan.’

  Beth didn’t answer. It wasn’t something that she would look forward to, but he was right: the children should see their grandparents.

  They walked back to the house. Beth was surprised at the relief she felt that they could still enjoy being away like this. Maybe life when the children both left home wouldn’t be so bad.

  At first, when Sami left the next morning, Beth wandered around, not sure what to do with herself. It was odd to be in someone else’s house, looking out of the windows, so different to the island. Every horizon here was littered with buildings, and there was a constant hum of traffic.

  Beth looked at the beautiful paintings and ornaments, the antique furniture. This place didn’t shout, but whispered politely of class and money. Alex, she guessed, must have inherited a lot of money when Amy died. For the first time she wondered just why he was leaving all this behind, escaping to the island. He said he tried not to come back. Of course, the painful memories must be in the DNA of this house now, but what exactly was he running away from?

  Beth walked around the tiled hallway, looked up the stairs, the ones Amy had fallen down: the floor was hard, unforgiving. It must have been awful for Kathleen. Did she hear the fall before she came out and found Amy? And Alex had not been here. Beth sat in a beautiful velvet seat in the hallway looking up at the stairs. Alex was an enigma. One of those people who shared himself piece by piece, but you never saw the whole picture. Of course, he’d been there on the Sunday evening: it had to be possible that he was the person Kathleen had been talking about.

  It was so hard to imagine him threatening anyone. But then she didn’t really know him and, given the right circumstances, maybe it was possible. Kathleen said she had known something horrendous about this person. If it had been Alex, what could he have done? Looking at the stairs, the obvious thing would be that she knew something suspicious about Amy’s death, but how could that be possible? Alex hadn’t even been here. Also, Alex claimed not to have known about Kathleen’s affair, although, of course, he could be lying. He had no alibi for the Monday morning, but no one had bothered because he had no motive. Well, maybe now she’d at least found the hint of one.

  Beth thought of Kathleen’s phone. Alex said he had not been here recently, but he could have lied, come back, and hidden it here. It was the perfect time to look. She went through the house, room by room. Everything was neat so it didn’t take too long. Finally, she came to Amy’s room. She knew in her heart she shouldn’t be going in there, but she couldn’t resist it. It might be exactly the place Alex might hide something in.

  Beth let herself into the bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was a lovely room. There was a large photograph of Alex and Amy on their wedding day. She noticed the butterfly necklace, the earrings. She went over to the window, looked down on the gardens below and was amazed to see a fox sunning itself under the trees.

  Methodically, she examined the wardrobes, bedside cabinet and finally the dressing table drawers. She slid open a long drawer. What she saw made her gasp: the drawer was full of jewellery in beautiful boxes and cases and these weren’t cardboard like the boxes she had. These were made of leather and wood. As she opened them she noticed fine hinges, and she stared at a stunning array of jewellery. One box contained emerald earrings and a pendant on a gold chain. Beth picked up an opal ring. It would only fit on her little finger: Amy must have been slight. She moved her hand, watching the opals that shone a thousand colours. In another box was a creamy pearl necklace, which she held up. Each pearl was slightly different: heavy, cool, bright, and they shone individually when the light hit them. The diamond clasp was beautifully fashioned. It was exquisite. In a reddish brown Cartier box, she found a watch. This looked like a vintage piece: rectangular, with tiny diamonds and blue hands. Sami had said he wanted to get her jewellery for her birthday. She lay the watch with the pearls and took a photo. She didn’t expect anything as extravagant, but maybe a small pearl necklace, a watch of a similar shape? She carefully put all the jewellery away, wondering why Alex didn’t at least keep it in a household safe. Beth had found nothing of interest after all. She checked her watch: it was time to go.

  She put on comfy shoes and left the house nervously, trying to remember all the security instructions she’d been given. It was such a contrast to making sure the children locked the back door and pulled the front door shut. As, with relief, she pulled the front door closed, she was aware of an older woman next door, lifting a key to her lock: obviously just returning home.

  ‘Good morning,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve just managed to catch the post.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Beth, impressed to be greeted, and then wondering if she should explain who she was. ‘Me and my husband are staying for a few nights. Alex works with my husband at a pharmacy on the Isle of Wight.’

  ‘That’s a long way. It’s good to have someone in the house. Alex told me he would be away a lot more, but he’s not been back for some time now. He phones me to check everything is all right, but it’s not the same as having people living there. Still, I’ll be sad if he sells it. I’d hate to see it broken up into flats, and they’ve been good neighbours. So sad what happened to his wife, isn’t it? Tragic.’

  Beth felt she was back in Wales; the lady was obviously looking to chat.

  ‘Amy sounded like a lovely lady.’

  ‘She was. I knew her mother well. She came from a distinguished family. They had the house here, and one down in Kent. Amy’s father was something high up in the civil service, and such a gentleman. Amy was his pride and joy. He died abroad, an infection it was. As for Amy’s mother, of course, well she died suddenly only a few years back. She was in her nineties. Amy had been extremely close to her. I don’t think she ever recovered from that. Tragedy seems to follow some families, doesn’t it?’

  ‘My friend Kathleen stayed here a few times before Christmas. She was here the night Amy died.’

  ‘I remember her: the woman who was studying to be a pharmacist?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Amy mentioned her. She was fond of her. She was so upset that morning. Well, we all were. But in the months before her death I saw Amy going downhill. Alex became worried stiff to leave her. I came and sat with her a lot. I even stayed the night when Alex was on the island if that friend of yours wasn’t up here.’

  ‘Alex mus
t have been very grateful.’

  ‘Oh, he was. She was so vulnerable. Not just in the way she forgot things, but she became more and more, well, you could call it generous. She kept giving things away. She gave me a print she knew I liked. I checked it with Alex, who was happy for me to keep it, but I turned down a lot. I always felt that if the wrong person came along, well, they could have had half the stuff in that house.’

  ‘That must have been a worry—’

  ‘Alex worried about it, I know. He joked that that she’d bankrupt him one day.’

  ‘Did he really?’

  ‘Of course, he was only joking.’

  Beth knew this woman would like to chat for the rest of the day. She saw the words, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ poised on the woman’s lips.

  ‘Right. I think I’d better be off. I’m hopeless in London. I get on the wrong tubes, get lost all the time.’

  ‘Look, take this card. It’s got my phone number on it. Ring me if you get lost. Everyone is in such a rush; you never know who to ask.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Beth, pushing the card into her bag. ‘That’s kind.’

  ‘Have a good day. Don’t spend all your money.’

  Beth managed the travelling better than she’d anticipated. She caught the tube to Covent Garden. Alighting there she was greeted with the music of buskers, colourful posters for plays and films, and people, lots of people. The atmosphere, however, was more relaxed and less frenetic than she’d feared.

  Later, she phoned home and was relieved that everything seemed to be going smoothly, apart from Adam dropping a four pint bottle of milk, and Layla saying the conditioner had run out. That evening she and Sami went to see the musical Wicked. As always, Beth was stunned by the whole experience of a West End show and even Sami, who was there for her really, enjoyed it. They tried another Middle Eastern restaurant. The evening was a success.

  As they walked back to Alex’s house, Beth thought about telling Sami what she was planning to do the next day when he was in lectures but, as she was pretty sure he wouldn’t want her to go, she decided not to.