by Faith Martin
Dirty, rotten luck. She seemed to have had so much of it, all her life.
So was she going to go home with her tail between her legs, no better off than when she’d arrived? All because of Terrence bloody Parker?
No, she told herself firmly. She was not.
All right then, she thought flatly. So where and how could she get the money that she was determined to have? She’d invested too much of her time, energy and emotion on things to let this latest farce come between her and the cash she had set her mind on. She needed a new start, damn it. In her mind’s eye, she was already spending the money, maybe even living abroad. Buying expensive French perfume, lying in the sun on a beach in the Med somewhere, with no more worries about having to scrimp and save.
She got up and paced about a bit, her brown eyes flicking impatiently around the room. She had paid upfront for three more days here, and her mum didn’t mind having Vicky over the holidays, so she didn’t have to rush back.
So she might have enough time to come up with a Plan B.
On the other hand, she had to consider any possible risks. It was one thing to reach for the jackpot when you knew what you were doing and were confident that you weren’t taking too many chances. It was another thing altogether to wing it and hope for the best.
Did she cut and run?
Or hold out and find another angle?
She read the newspaper article for a third time, but the facts were still scanty. Which meant she was probably safe enough for the moment. Terry would hardly have been likely to talk to anyone else about her, would he? And certainly not to that silly cow he’d thought he was going to marry.
Abruptly, Phyllis Raynor stopped pacing and thought about Millicent Vander for a bit. The last time she’d seen her had been at the New Year’s Eve party Millie had hosted; a party that she’d been only too happy to gate-crash with such high spirits and high hopes.
Millie Vander, so proud of her red hair and ‘pocket Venus’ glamour. The hostess with the mostest, so well brought-up and pampered for all her life.
Oh yes, Phyllis knew a fair bit about Millie. Widow of a rich husband who’d given her all that she’d ever wanted. And before that, born to well-heeled, very respectable parents who’d also indulged her every whim.
Women like that grew up never knowing what it was to have to claw and fight for everything they wanted. Women like that just expected their every desire to be served up to them on a silver platter. Like a younger, handsome man, for instance.
My, my, hadn’t Terry hit the jackpot with that lady bountiful?
The look on his face when he’d spotted her, Phyllis, at the party had been priceless!
Phyllis felt a snarl of a smile on her face, and quickly rearranged her features into their usual, placid, slightly bored expression. It didn’t do to let the mask slip; she’d learned that the hard way. The image she presented to the world was her armour, and an attractive young ‘lady’ could always expect certain things from men and society in general that a working-class guttersnipe never could. Always keep the harridan hidden, she reminded herself.
She walked to the window and looked out over the B&B’s small town garden, which lay buried under a layer of snow.
Bloody snow – when would it go? she wondered resentfully. It was really getting on her wick! Every time you went out, it froze your bloody nose and fingers and toes into icicles.
She sighed and turned away from the window. She was still thinking about Millie Vander – only now she was smiling a very different kind of smile.
All right, so things with Terry had turned into a busted flush, but that didn’t mean all was necessarily lost, did it?
A woman who didn’t like to question an obvious interloper at her own party simply because she didn’t want to make a fuss or cause an embarrassment, was almost certainly the same sort of woman who would pay handsomely not to have her dirty linen aired in public, wasn’t she?
And a woman without a backbone but with plenty of money was just what Phyllis needed right now. In fact, it was almost poetic irony, when you came to think about it. To think – Terry had planned to marry into money, and now that money was going to find its way to her.
She’d just have to think about the best way of going about things; that was all. Attractive middle-aged widows with plenty of money might seem an easy target, but sometimes … Well, you just never knew.
And she’d seen the look in Millicent Vander’s eye when she’d caught Phyllis and Terry having their little ‘chat’ in the deserted hallway just before midnight. Of course, he’d been furious with her, and the hold he’d had on her arm had been anything but lover-like, but Millicent hadn’t realised that. And she certainly hadn’t been close enough to hear that the words he’d been hissing in her ear were threats, and not sweet nothings!
No, their hostess had seen only two flush-faced people, locked together in a close and electrically charged embrace, and had jumped to the most likely conclusion. The sort of conclusion that most women, worried about their fading looks and their advancing age, would jump to on seeing ‘their’ man with a younger woman.
And the look in the society matron’s eye had been wild, hot and venomous.
Phyllis would not make the mistake of underestimating her. A woman scorned, as she knew better than anyone, was a force to be reckoned with.
She’d have to be careful. But one thing was for sure: one way or another, she wasn’t going to leave Oxford without a substantial amount of money.
Chapter 14
At the same time that Phyllis Raynor was pacing her room and contemplating Millie Vander with such relish, Millie’s twin children were out and about in the city on business of their own.
They’d purposely waited until it was fully dark before venturing out. As that obligingly occurred at barely five o’clock in the afternoon, not too much patience had been required on their part. Which was a good thing, since neither of them had ever been blessed with that particular commodity.
They had each dressed in their winter skiing clothes, usually only worn at Gstaad in season, and thus all but guaranteed to keep them well insulated. Even so, they were both glad when they finally turned down a side road just off Hythe Bridge Street, and approached the address they were looking for.
‘Patsy’s place is just down here,’ Juliet said to her twin, her voice muffled by the mink lining around her hooded jacket. ‘You’d better stay here,’ she added, as they reached the front gate. ‘Her mother can be a bit protective of her, and if she sees you, she might invite us in and make sure we don’t slope off to Patsy’s bedroom for a private chat. If she sees just me, I should be able to come up with something to make sure Patsy comes out on her own.’
Jasper sighed heavily. ‘Fine, but hurry up, if you can. I might just freeze to death out here otherwise.’
Juliet hurried to the door and rapped hard. For once, their luck seemed to be in, for it was Patsy herself who opened the door. Quick as a flash, she glanced behind her, checked the coast was clear, then reached up to grab a coat from the rack in the hall and stepped out through the door.
She shut the door very quietly behind her. ‘Come on, let’s get down the path and behind the hedge out of sight, just in case!’ Patsy hissed, shrugging into the coat quickly, already shivering violently. ‘I don’t think Mum heard the door go. She and Granddad have been on the sherry all day,’ she added with a nervous giggle.
It wasn’t until they got near the gate that Patsy was able to see Jasper standing in the light of the streetlamp across the road, and her steps slowed automatically.
‘It’s all right,’ Juliet said bracingly, when she saw that the younger girl was about to balk. ‘Jasper won’t bite.’
In the glow of the same streetlamp, Patsy’s curly ginger hair became bright orange, making her stand out in the monochrome landscape. By mutual consent, they tucked themselves as close as they could in the shadow of a large privet hedge, which not only provided them with shelter from the icy wind, bu
t from any prying eyes that might be looking out of neighbouring windows.
‘I’m ever so glad you came, Juliet,’ Patsy said, clutching the sleeve of Juliet’s luxurious coat with gloveless, icy hands. ‘I’ve been that worried, I can’t tell you! I thought I was going to just die!’
Juliet ignored the dramatic language thinking that, for once, Patsy had probably earned a few histrionics. ‘What the hell happened?’ she hissed instead, glancing around nervously at the deserted streets. ‘Were you in his car when it crashed?’
‘Of course I was in the car,’ Patsy squeaked, aggrieved. ‘That was the plan, wasn’t it? Hang around until he came out then beg a lift to my auntie’s place in Wolvercote? And then … you know …’
Juliet nodded impatiently. ‘Yes, yes, that was the plan. So you were actually with him when the smash happened?’ she repeated.
‘I was. And I was never so scared in all my life,’ Patsy said, putting her spare hand on her chest and patting it comfortingly.
She probably meant it too, Juliet mused, but it came out with so much gasping and eye rolling that Patsy sounded like a third-rate actress in a trite thriller, killing any genuine sympathy she might have felt stone-dead.
Not that Juliet was known in her peer group for her sympathetic personality.
‘Just tell us what happened,’ Jasper, impatient and unimpressed by all this girlish chatter, demanded harshly. His voice had a flat, ugly lash to it that made Patsy’s hand on his sister’s arm tighten instinctively in reaction.
‘Jasper, don’t be a pig,’ Juliet admonished him. It was not that she didn’t agree with him, but rather that she knew the best way to deal with Patsy was to let her indulge herself. ‘Can’t you see the poor girl’s been through an ordeal?’ Juliet speared her brother with a speaking look and he sighed and held up both hands in surrender.
‘Pats,’ Juliet said, letting her voice turn sugary. ‘You managed to waylay him in the driveway, like we hoped, and you told him about spending the night in Wolvercote. Right so far?’
‘Yes, and he said that was right close to where he lived, and he could give me a lift if I wanted, just like you said he would.’ Patsy nodded. ‘Wasn’t that clever of you both? That you knew he’d do that!’ She spoke to appease, her eyes still darting nervously from Jasper to Juliet.
Jasper again sighed impatiently at this blatant flattery, but Juliet spoke over him firmly. ‘Yes, well, that’s because he’s such a total lech. We know him, you see – knew him, I suppose I should say – very well indeed,’ she confirmed bitterly. ‘He never could resist a pretty face.’
Patsy blushed. That Juliet Vander, of all people, should call her pretty! When everyone knew that Juliet was the most beautiful and glamorous girl in all of Oxford.
‘Nobody’s mourning him, I promise you, so you can save any pity you might be feeling,’ Juliet said sourly.
‘So, you got in the car,’ Jasper tried to chivvy both of the women along. ‘Did anyone see you?’ he demanded. This was one of the most crucial things they needed to know, and they had discussed, before setting out, how vital it was to find out just how much danger they were in. Now he noticed that his twin, too, was holding her breath, waiting for the verdict.
‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ Patsy said annoyingly.
‘You don’t think so?’ Jasper echoed savagely, making her visibly jump.
‘No, I can’t see how they could have done,’ she amended quickly. ‘There was nobody else in the driveway right then. It was dark away from the house lights too, where he’d drawn up under those big bushes you’ve got in your garden,’ Patsy said, a slightly tearful edge to her voice now.
Catching it, Juliet hastily took over. The last thing they needed was for the silly little cow to start sobbing and getting all upset. Not when it was vital that they all behaved normally.
Patsy’s mother would be onto it in a flash if her little darling started moping.
‘You did fine, Patsy, really you did. I couldn’t have done it better myself,’ Juliet said, shooting her twin another ‘keep quiet’ glare. ‘OK, you got in the car and he started off up the main road. The road was passable then?’
‘Yes, the main road was,’ Patsy said, still preening over her idol’s latest praise. ‘But it was still slippery, mind, and the wheels did slide sometimes, but he was a good driver. At least, he was at first, but the further we got away from the house, the more he sort of kept … I don’t know. Slumping over the wheel a bit.’
‘Drunk, was he?’ Jasper sneered.
‘Yes. I suppose he must have been,’ Patsy agreed hesitantly.
‘What happened, exactly? When the car crashed,’ Juliet said, keeping her voice calm and patient.
‘Well, it was when we turned off the main road into the side ones. The snowploughs hadn’t gone through there for some time, and the back end of the car just seemed to slide right out from under us as we turned. I thought he’d correct the wheel, like he’d been doing, but he just didn’t. His chin was on his chest, and he wasn’t even holding the wheel, I don’t think, because I noticed the steering wheel was sliding through his hands. And then we just skidded into this snow and the tree beyond it. I was so frightened I couldn’t even scream!’
Just as well, Jasper thought callously to himself. If she had let rip, it would have brought somebody running for sure. And then they would all have been in the soup. They wouldn’t have been able to rely on this nitwit to keep her head in an emergency.
‘It was good thinking on your part not to make a sound,’ Juliet said, forcing herself to smile in admiration. ‘You kept a cool head. You must have been really up against it, but you were clever enough to keep quiet.’
At this, Patsy positively beamed, conveniently forgetting that it had been fright and shock that had kept her paralysed in her seat for several seconds after the collision.
‘You obviously weren’t hurt yourself?’ Juliet pressed on. ‘You got out of the car and walked away all right?’
‘Yes, I did.’ Patsy gulped. ‘We didn’t hit the tree that hard, to be honest. He’d already slowed right down to make the turn, and since I had time enough to guess what was going to happen, I braced myself with my hands on the dash. It was more of a jolt than anything else. But I couldn’t get the door to open very wide. I don’t know if it got dented, or if it was because of the snow pressing against us, but I managed to wiggle out of the gap anyway. Then I just ran off to my auntie’s place. It was only a quarter of a mile or so, but it was so dark, and my ears were ringing, and it was so cold, I thought I might die! Really I did.’
She looked hopefully from one to the other, but this time there were no congratulatory comments on her bravery.
‘But you didn’t let on anything to your aunt, right?’ Jasper demanded instead. ‘She didn’t realise anything out of the ordinary had happened?’
Again, the twins held their breath for the all-important answer.
‘Oh no, I told her not to wait up for me before I left for your party. She was so pleased I’d been invited, and that Mum had let me spend the night away from home. She’s always been a better sport than Mum! She even gave me the key to her house so I wouldn’t have to wake her. Mum would have waited up, counting down the minutes,’ Patsy predicted bitterly. ‘I just let myself in and helped myself to her gin.’
Juliet couldn’t help but grin at this matter-of-fact piece of pragmatism. ‘Good for you,’ she said approvingly.
‘And then what?’ Jasper pressed.
‘Nothing,’ Patsy said, sounding confused. ‘My dad picked me up from my auntie’s place about eleven the next morning and brought me home, and I’ve been home ever since. And then I read in the papers today that he died!’
She took a deep, shaky breath. ‘I thought someone would come! I thought he’d be found. I didn’t know he was dead … I wouldn’t have left him, if I’d known.’ Her voice was beginning to rise into a hysterical wail again, and Juliet quickly grabbed her arm and squeezed it tight.
&nbs
p; ‘You didn’t do anything wrong! And you’ve nothing to feel guilty about. Listen to me,’ Juliet said forcefully. ‘It wasn’t your fault. None of it was – how could it be? He was driving. The accident had nothing to do with you.’
Patsy sniffed. ‘Yes, that’s true,’ she agreed, feeling a little better.
‘And you could hardly be found alone with a man in his car, could you? Not someone with his reputation,’ Juliet put all the scorn she could into her voice. ‘Your dad would have scalped you.’
‘That’s right, he would,’ Patsy admitted nervously. He still would, she thought uneasily, if he ever found out.
‘OK, you had to run off. And anybody would have thought the same thing – that someone would have heard the smash and come to investigate it. It wasn’t your fault that they didn’t. If the collision was as gentle as you said, and the snow muffled the sound … Well, you weren’t to know that, were you? You did the right thing,’ Juliet reiterated firmly. ‘You just remember that. All right? You looked after yourself, and we girls have to do that in this wicked, rotten old world. Right?’ She knew this last bit of bravura would appeal to the drama queen in Patsy, and sure enough, she saw the other girl’s head come up.
‘That’s so true,’ she said, so solemnly that Jasper had to turn his head away and bite back the snort of laughter that threatened to erupt from his throat.
Patsy nodded and sniffed. ‘All right, Juliet, I just won’t think about it,’ she said meekly.
‘That’s the spirit! Now, we just wanted to come to explain that there’s nothing to worry about. You don’t say anything, to anybody, ever, all right? If you really have to – if push comes to shove, say, and the police start asking questions, you just say that you left the party, and Jasper here drove you to your aunt’s place and left you at the doorstep.’
Patsy eyed Jasper warily. ‘All right,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘But the police won’t ask, will they?’ she asked in real alarm.
‘I don’t see why they should,’ Juliet said crisply. ‘Why would they? It was just a road smash. It’s sad and tragic and all that, but nothing they’ll be interested in. Just keep your head down, don’t volunteer information, and don’t talk about it to anybody. Not your mum or granddad or anyone, OK?’