The House Party

by Mary Grand

  Conor combed his fingers through his fringe. He sat down. ‘I’ve been such a crap son.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Conor suddenly stood up and started to leave the room, saying, ‘Hang on. I need to get something.’

  Beth sat waiting, wondering if he was coming back. She could hear him crashing around upstairs, but eventually he reappeared, holding a couple of large photographs which he handed to her.

  ‘This all happened before Christmas, before I was asking Mum for money. I found them, told Dad, and he said to pretend I’d found them hidden in Patrick’s room. Give Mum a bit of a scare: make her think that Patrick was in love with Elsa; make her know what it felt like. And so, that’s what I did.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘I thought she’d laugh it off, but Mum burst into tears. She said she’d been worried for a while, knew it would happen. Dad told her Patrick only loved her for her looks, and when they’d gone, he’d move on to someone younger.’

  ‘What a cruel thing to say.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe Dad would have said anything like that to Mum,’ continued Conor, ‘so I rang him. He said it was all lies, and she was putting on an act.’ Conor stopped. ‘It wasn’t until the funeral I realised how I’d got it all wrong. He never looked sad once. I told him I thought I’d stay here, and he said it was a good idea. He’s met someone else. But he said I owed him money from when I’d stayed with him. He said to give him any money that was left to me by Mum. It was like this mask fell off and I knew who he was. I realised at that moment how much Mum had loved me. I wish to God it wasn’t too late to tell her that I really loved her.’ Conor started to cry.

  Beth touched his arm gently. ‘Your mum knew; mothers always do.’

  ‘It was weird, you know,’ he said, wiping his face roughly with his arm. ‘The night before she died, when I was going off to see my friend, she came out to me as I was getting on my bike. She told me she loved me, to always remember that. It was like she knew. I remembered then how frightened she’d looked earlier when that call came, and I checked if she wanted me to stay. See, I did care about her deep down. She told me to go and enjoy myself, and so I left her. I wish to God now I hadn’t.’

  ‘What are you doing with these?’

  Beth hadn’t heard Patrick’s car, nor seen him enter the room. He sounded curious rather than angry.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ said Conor.

  Patrick looked confused. ‘Why? These are Elsa’s, aren’t they?’

  Conor slowly explained about the photos. ‘I’m so sorry, Patrick. I know now how much I upset Mum.’

  Patrick looked at the photos. ‘You showed these to your mother before Christmas?’

  Conor nodded and burst into violent sobs. He curled up in a ball on the sofa. Patrick sat down by him. ‘Hey. It’s OK,’ said Patrick. ’I made mistakes as well. She asked me about these photos, you know, when we went skiing, and you know what I said? I said, “They’re good aren’t they? Elsa reminds me of you when you were young.” I laughed and wandered off. It was cruel: I realise that now. I should have talked to her properly.’

  ‘You know when I left her on that Sunday night, I knew something was wrong with her. I nearly came over. I got up at half six, knew she’d be doing her meditation thing. But instead I went to McDonald’s. Stayed in there for ages. When you phoned me, I was still there, messing around on my phone, drinking Diet Coke.’

  ‘Look, Conor,’ said Patrick, ‘it wasn’t your fault. I know you’ve made mistakes; we both have, but you know you’ve a home here.’

  ‘I don’t know why you are doing this,’ said Conor.

  ‘We get on OK, and it’s what Kathleen would have wanted.’

  Conor’s phone sounded. ‘You answer that,’ said Patrick. Conor left the room and Beth heard him arranging to meet some friends.

  ‘That was kind,’ Beth said to Patrick.

  ‘He’s not like his father. He has a lot more of Kathleen in him than he realises. He’ll be all right.’ Patrick held out a photograph. ‘I’ve been a fool, you know. When I saw that Kathleen was jealous of Elsa, a bit of me wanted to make her experience what it had been like for me, always worrying about losing her. I could have downplayed it more than I did. It means I am partly culpable in what she went on to do, doesn’t it?’

  Beth blinked. ‘You mean—?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure she slept with someone else. It was after the skiing holiday. I’d been stupid, flirted too much. At Christmas she said something like she hoped that whatever either of us did, we would always stay together. She wouldn’t explain, but I wondered, thought I’d pushed her too far. Once or twice I caught her making phone calls secretly. I checked her phone, but she always wiped the call log, which was suspicious in itself.’

  ‘Who do you think it was?’

  ‘I thought it must be someone on her course.’

  ‘But weren’t you angry with her?’

  ‘No. It was my fault.’

  ‘And then you realised she was pregnant?’

  ‘Yes, and now, you’re not going to believe this. I did think it was a miracle. I still believe the baby was mine. I shall always think that. I felt it was a gift from God to mend our marriage. I felt I’d treated her badly. I’d been cruel about the photographs.’

  Beth blinked: he really seemed to believe it.

  ‘Do you know what I was doing the morning the police came to tell me about Kathleen?’ asked Patrick. ‘I wasn’t cleaning the house. I was up at five, choosing some recent photos of Kathleen. I found some on Facebook and there were the ones I’d taken in the garden here. I was working on them, and was going to hang them here. I wanted her to know I loved her as she is now.’

  ‘Did you tell the police you’d been doing that?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘If you’d been online, they could track it, couldn’t they? It was your alibi, wasn’t it?’

  Patrick blinked. ‘I never thought of that. Gosh, Sean would be mad if I told him—’

  Beth smiled. ‘Well, it looks like you are OK anyway.’

  ‘I still wonder, though, who phoned the police. It’s not nice to think of someone wishing you ill like that. I’m sorry I accused you. It’s been getting to me, that’s all.’

  ‘And what about Elsa? You’ve treated her badly, using her like that.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was serious.’

  ‘I think you underestimated her. About her portfolio, how much of that did you do?’

  Patrick groaned. ‘Kathleen was obsessed with the idea that I’d done too much but, honestly, she was just jealous. It would go against so much that I believe in to have helped Elsa cheat. In any case, the school would never have believed it was her work if they didn’t have other things comparable. And she’d have completely failed at university if her work wasn’t up to a previous standard. No: that was all her own work. She could go far, that girl.’

  Patrick looked around and then back at Beth, his face serious. ‘Beth, I promise you there was nothing but flirting between me and Elsa. I was stupid, but there was nothing physical, nothing at all. I loved Kathleen so much. I would have done anything for her. Every time I breathe I miss her. I’m sorry I argued with you at the funeral, but the idea that anyone could think I would have killed Kathleen is unbearable.’

  Beth saw the pain in Patrick’s eyes. That was real, and she was sure his love and grief for Kathleen were as well. She was glad he had that alibi now. For the first time she was convinced he’d had nothing to do with Kathleen’s death. ‘I’m so sorry, Patrick,’ she said. ‘I’ll go now.’

  She left him standing lost, alone. As she got into the car, she knew she couldn’t go straight home.

  Instead Beth drove up to the Downs, and went for a walk, away from everyone. She walked down the bottom path. Although it was close to the small road that wound its way through the Downs, it was usually deserted. None of the cyclists, horse riders or even dog walkers, usually ventured that way. Some
times with Ollie she would see a fox or a hare. There were huge bushes that you could walk into: caves made of leaves, with birds singing above you. Beth sat on a soft patch of grass, closed her eyes and tried to just breathe and as she felt the release of emotion warm, angry tears burned her cheeks. She found herself weeping for the time before Kathleen died, a time that felt more innocent. But, of course, that had been an illusion. So much had been happening then and she had been unaware of it. All the hate and passion had been there, simmering away under the surface.

  It seemed her list of people who may have been threatening Kathleen was diminishing. William didn’t have an affair with Kathleen. That seemed to let him off the hook, along with Patrick, Conor and Sami. Who was left? Imogen, Elsa, Alex—

  ‘I nearly didn’t see you in there.’ The voice startled her.

  ‘Oh, Alex. You surprised me. Is it your day off?’

  ‘It is. I cycled over.’

  ‘I’m glad you found the Downs. Stunning, aren’t they? I come here when I need to clear my head, and down here is my secret place.’

  ‘You look a bit, um, sad.’

  ‘You keep finding me like this, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ll leave you if you want to be alone.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. I was thinking about Kathleen. I’ve just come from Patrick’s.’ Alex sat down next to her in her cave of branches.

  ‘That house is so big. I rattled around the house in London when Amy died. I still have so much to sort out. About the only thing I did was take away her medicines; that must be my training, I guess.’

  Beth suddenly remembered something William had said. ‘I guess she was on a lot of medication. Not easy for her.’

  Alex blinked, surprised. ‘She wasn’t on much, actually, but I made sure it was well organised for her.’

  ‘But she could still have got in a muddle. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘Her medication was straightforward and carefully managed. There were no mistakes.’ She felt his whole body tighten, saw the white of knuckles on clenched fists.

  ‘Sorry. I thought William said she took something by mistake, the night she died. Not that it was anyone’s fault.’

  ‘If anyone thinks that they should look at the report from the inquest.’

  Alex glared at her. Beth saw the anger in his eyes and was shocked: she’d never seen him like this. She felt very alone.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘really sorry.’

  His hands relaxed. ‘It’s OK. The guilt of not being there that night is still pretty raw. Why was William talking about it?’

  ‘He was saying how he knew you before, in London.’ Beth wanted to ask him to verify William’s vasectomy, but it seemed an impossible thing to slip naturally into a conversation. Instead she said, ‘I apologise for being tactless.’

  ‘Time to get back, I think,’ he said.

  As they made their way Beth, desperate to lighten the mood, asked, ‘Have you started looking for a house?’

  Alex seemed to relax. ‘I’ve seen a few. I might stay around Castleford. It would be stupid to give myself a long cycle in, particularly once we get into winter again.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be too far from around here; you could come up here after a hard day’s work.’

  ‘It’s a thought.’ He pointed over to the hills opposite. ‘I went up there the other day, to the Longstone. Did you see that house all on its own? Now, there would be a dream.’

  ‘Not for sale, though?’

  ‘Unfortunately not.’ he replied grinning.

  ‘You mentioned going up Tennyson Down. Do you still fancy going?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I’d like that. The forecast next week is good. I have Thursday off.’

  ‘The afternoon would be good for me. I finish work at twelve. I’ll call after. We can pick up Ollie and I’ll drive us there.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  They had arrived back at the car park. Alex started to unlock his bike.

  ‘See you for the walk, then,’ said Beth. She tried to make her voice sound light, but the words came out hard and taut. The discovery of that latent anger in Alex had been deeply disturbing and, rather than Alex setting her mind at rest about Amy and the medication, she felt increasingly anxious. Why be so angry about it if there was nothing to hide? If he could get that angry about that, how would he have been when he heard about the earrings?’

  She was nervous now about this walk next week. Did she really want to go up Tennyson Down, up by the cliffs with someone she suspected of murder? She shook herself: this was silly. It would be broad daylight, lots of people around. However, as much as she tried to reassure herself, her mind flashed back to Alex’s face when she’d asked him about the mix-up of the medication. She’d see a fire there she hadn’t seen before, and it frightened her.

  31

  Sami was up in London when the police rang Beth on the following Tuesday evening.

  ‘Can we speak to Sami Bashir please?’

  ‘I’m sorry. He’s away. Can I help?’ said Beth, her heart beating fast.

  ‘Someone phoned to tell us that they had seen kids messing about in the pharmacy car park. We went to check it out and found things that need following up on. We were wondering if we could have a look at the CCTV?’

  ‘I don’t think they have any for the car park. I think it’s only inside the front door.’

  ‘According to our records the practice had a camera fitted in the car park last year.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Well, you need to speak to Sami. I can give you his mobile number. You should be able to get him or, of course, his partner Alex is living in the flat above the pharmacy. He may well know about it.’

  When they had rung off, Beth realised she had never thought of there being CCTV for the car park. All that time she’d been wondering about the pharmacy car being used by someone: it would surely have shown up on the CCTV if it had been taken. She could ask Sami, but then he would start worrying about her getting obsessive. Of course, she could ask Alex. She hesitated. She would have to give Alex a reason, and that would mean telling him she was still worried about Kathleen’s death. However, as he was staying at the caravan and cycling that morning, he wouldn’t be thinking she had any suspicions about him. So, no; it was all right to ask him. In fact, it would be interesting to see his reaction.

  On Thursday Beth called for Alex after work to go for their walk on Tennyson Down. As she stood waiting for Alex to answer the door, she looked around the car park for signs of graffiti or anything the police might have been looking out for, but it all looked pretty normal. She rang the doorbell. There was no response, but then she heard Alex calling. She turned to see him driving the pharmacy car in. ‘Sorry, offered to take a delivery. I’ll be there now.’

  He parked the car and came running over to her. ‘Sorry, Sami is so rushed and there was a large package for one of the nursing homes. I offered to take it. Anyway, I’m here now.’

  ‘I forget you can drive,’ said Beth.

  ‘I got out of the habit up in London.’

  ‘I was just looking around for the graffiti. I hear the police were down here on Tuesday. Did they speak to you or just ring Sami?’ asked Beth.

  ‘No, they came here.’

  ‘What was it all about? I can’t see any graffiti.’

  ‘No. The kids had been drinking, but they left some empty wallets. The police want to see if they can identify them.’

  ‘They asked me if you have CCTV here. I didn’t think so.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Sami had it put in. The police downloaded the video from Tuesday night. Come on up, it’s quite tidy. I can’t say the same for the hallway. You need Google maps to find the front door.’

  Although Alex had a separate front door, the hallway led to the pharmacy and round to the surgery. Beth followed him up a steep flight of stairs.

  Alex had been right about the pile of clutter outside his flat door. There were old filing cabinets, computers, some chairs stacked up and some old s
torage boxes. She saw him take his front door key out of the cabinet.

  ‘That’s not very secure, is it?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve a small home safe. Anything valuable is kept in there, but it is a bit of a contrast to my security system in London.’

  Beth looked around. ‘Blimey. Sami ought to do something about this.’

  The flat had a living room and what she assumed were a bedroom and bathroom leading off. It was small but organised, tidy and tastefully decorated. Alex had made it a home with his books and pictures. The white bookcase had carefully arranged books in alphabetical order. On one shelf there was also a neat pile of new brown envelopes, some small reels of pink ribbon with tiny white stars on, and some small plastic wallets with coins in as well as reference books, and a small box with cotton gloves and a magnifying glass.

  ‘Your online business?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve just purchased a Beatrix Potter fifty pence coins uncirculated coloured set.’

  ‘Oh, they’re so sweet. I assumed you would be selling old coins.’

  ‘Sometimes. They’re kept in that.’ He pointed to large metal safe.

  ‘Are they very valuable then?’

  ‘They’re worth looking after, and the safe provides the perfect environment.’

  ‘That matters?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Most coins are made of silver or copper, chemically reactive metals, so you have to protect them from water vapour in the air, extremes of heat and cold. That is a good place to keep then.’

  ‘Gosh. I’d never realised it was all so serious.’

  ‘This is nothing to what my father did. He’d have laughed at the sort of thing I’m selling most of the time, said it was an insult to numismatists – coin dealers and collectors. He was a bit of a snob about it all, but then I guess it was his livelihood. I know enough to usually tell the real thing from a fake.’

  Beth picked up a thin square box and opened it to find a silver coin engraved with a fox.

  ‘That’s so sweet.’

  ‘Don’t touch it,’ Alex snapped, then, ‘Sorry, it’s quite valuable.’