Cry for Kit Page 13

  The doctor went on stitching Johnny’s cut, but everyone else stood still. Everyone but Edward. He had stripped off his shirt, and was donning a dressing-gown. He belted it, and then walked over to a desk and sat down.

  ‘Just in time, Amy. We only need to collect your brother and Piers to have everyone accounted for by the time the police arrive.’

  ‘The police?’ She laughed. ‘What on earth for?’

  Such was the force of her personality that for a dizzy moment I wondered whether I had imagined the events of the evening.

  ‘Lewis and your chauffeur are locked in the cellar,’ said Edward. ‘There are witnesses to your father’s involvement. Your brother was undoubtedly in the plot, as was Piers. If you will allow me one moment in which to write out my resignation as managing director, I will phone the police to clear up the mess.’

  ‘Stop!’ said Amy. ‘Why destroy yourself?’

  Edward picked up a pen, took off the cap, and selected a sheet of paper. He began to write.

  ‘There must be some way to make you see sense,’ said Amy. ‘Oh, I see what this is...an elaborate plot to make me agree to a divorce. Well, if it means that much to you, I will agree. I will not contest a divorce, and I will not ask for maintenance. Nor will I ask you to sell this house. Keep it. I suppose I was partly to blame, in telling Lewis how much I resented your leaving me. Poor Lewis! In the cellar? I can hardly believe that he has actually taken steps to...well, tell me! What is the lad supposed to have done?’

  Edward went on writing.

  Amy put a hand to her head and rubbed it. ‘I am not well!’ She was acting, we could all see that. ‘I’ve been taking pills for some time—in secret. Tranquillisers.’ She was improvising, but making a good job of her story. ‘I have been under a great strain. Perhaps I have said and done things which I cannot now remember saying or doing. Perhaps I ought to go as a voluntary patient to the Greenham Clinic for a while. Yes, that is what I will do. I shall have treatment there. Quietly, without scandal. There is no need to call the police.’

  ‘And the rest of them? Do you intend to take them into the Clinic with you? Are they all supposed to have been suffering from nervous breakdowns?’

  ‘No, of course not. My father is an old man and ill.’ This was self-evident. ‘He will resign from the Council. He will resign from his position as Chairman at the Mills. He will go abroad for his health. The Seychelles, perhaps.’

  ‘Leaving the Mills without anyone to operate them?’

  ‘You will reconsider your decision to resign, I’m sure. As for my brother, he knew little of this. He agreed to bring Mrs Neely here in order to kill scandal, but that is all. He is too frivolous a creature to be depended on in a crisis.’

  ‘You can’t talk Piers out of it so easily. He wasn’t here when Mrs Neely rang last night, and therefore must have been with you, and in the plot.’

  ‘Not so. He acted as chauffeur for me, since it was Green’s night off. He drove me to Father’s house first, and then I sent him to fetch James, which he did. When James arrived I sent Piers home. The boy is too highly-strung for this work.’

  Edward was pleased about that. But he went on writing.

  ‘As for Lewis and the chauffeur,’ said Amy, ‘they obeyed my orders, that’s all. Orders which I must have given when I was not myself. Lewis is a poor, weak fool who thought to step into your shoes. Of course there was no question of marrying him. I used him, merely. The chauffeur knows little, except that I wanted the Rolls driven round the lake, and some work done in the cellar to stop a leak in the drain. He is a pawn. I suggest you take statements from them and let them go. You could tell them to be out of town by tomorrow night or you will give the statements to the police. They will disappear and you will never hear of them again. Lewis will lose his thriving business, which would be sufficient punishment, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m not in the business of apportioning blame or punishment. I’m resigning, and then ringing the police.’ Edward read through what he had written, signed it, folded it up and handed it to Amy. He reached for the phone.

  ‘Wait!’ Amy’s composure was beginning to break up. She fiddled with the letter of resignation, then crumpled it up and threw it into the fireplace. She turned to Johnny, who was conscious but blurry-eyed. The doctor had finished stitching the cut, and was now getting out some pills.

  ‘You—John Blake, or whatever your name is! I’ve heard you want to go into the Mills one day. You’ve even been round them with Edward...with your father, haven’t you? Well, how about our appointing you as a director? We could give you some shares, and you could walk into the place tomorrow on equal terms with Piers...with your half-brother.’

  ‘Is she for real?’ Johnny asked me. ‘If my father doesn’t think I should work for him till I’m qualified, then what good would I be to him as a director?’ He turned to Amy, trying to be courteous to someone who was obviously in need of medical attention. ‘I’m not trained yet,’ he said. ‘I’ve only just left school.’

  Edward grinned. Johnny’s reply had given him enormous pleasure. Amy flushed, and then turned to me.

  ‘My father will sell you his shares, voting stock and all. We could have an Extraordinary General Meeting and vote you on to the Board. You could have enough shares to give Edward a controlling interest in the Mills.’

  For a moment I was tempted, but not enough.

  ‘It would also give me a hold on Edward, wouldn’t it? Well, I don’t want him under that sort of obligation to me. Besides,’ I lied, speaking to the ceiling above her head, ‘My late husband tied up all my money in a trust fund, and Edward won’t be able to touch it when he marries me!’

  Edward laughed. ‘Sorry, Amy. You haven’t a single thing to offer that we want. I don’t want this house, not anymore. You know very well that it was a bribe, offered me in compensation for what I couldn’t have. Now that Kit is free, I’ll gladly give up White Wings. In fact, I want to do so. I want to start fresh. You have had my letter of resignation. There are plenty of people here to witness what you’ve done with it. Very well. I will call an Extraordinary General Meeting tomorrow and those of you who are out on bail can meet and receive my resignation in person. I shall take my money out of the Mills and go elsewhere.’

  ‘You’re paying a high price for her,’ said Amy.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Edward, the accountant. He pulled the phone towards him, dialled and asked for the police.

  ‘Fools!’ Amy threw her words at us like knives, and like knives they wounded. ‘You, Edward; you’ll regret having thrown away everything you’ve worked for. You won’t be able to satisfy her, either. Remember how many men she went with before you? How long will it be before she leaves you for someone else? You, boy! In the years to come you’ll cry your eyes out thinking of the opportunity you threw away. And you, Kit Jeffries! Remember my words if and when you ever get him into bed with you. You’ve got yourself a poor bargain!’

  ‘Not so!’ I said, drawing myself up to my full height. ‘You seem to forget that Edward has two fine sons already, and that we are still young enough to have more. Personally,’ I drawled, ‘I have always found Edward extremely responsive.’

  Someone laughed. Amy tried to speak, and failed. I had dealt her a blow from which she would not recover.

  Jack held the door open for her. ‘The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen!’ he said. ‘Amy, why don’t you take your father away and get him to lie down until the police come? He looks all in to me.’

  The Alderman staggered to his feet and made it to the door. Amy’s eyes cleared a path for her through our friends. She left, but her parting words stayed in our minds.

  *

  Jack had not been motivated by anything but simple kindness when he suggested that Amy left the room, but she must have seen his words as an incentive to escape. She hurried through the house with her father, collected her car from the garage and drove off. Perhaps she hoped to get herself to the Clinic and cheat the po
lice of their quarry; perhaps she simply lost her nerve for once, and abandoned herself to the instinct to run away. Next morning her car was found upside down in a field below a sharp bend in the road, no more than a mile from White Wings. The Alderman was dead, and Amy badly injured. She died the following night without having regained consciousness.

  Since it was proved at the inquest that the Alderman had died of natural causes—another heart attack before the crash, it was assumed that in his final agony he had clutched either at Amy or the steering wheel, thus causing the car to go off the road. A verdict of Accidental Death was therefore recorded for Amy.

  The irony of it was that since the Alderman had died before his daughter, and she was his sole legatee, all his money and his shares in the Mills passed to her; and since the Will Amy had signed on the day of her marriage had never been altered, everything which she possessed at the moment of her death passed to Edward. Thus at one stroke Edward inherited control of the Mills and most of the Coulster fortune. He was persuaded to withdraw his resignation—indeed, once Johnny and I had told him that we thought he ought to carry on, he didn’t take much persuading.

  I went to stay first with Paul and Joan, and then with Con and Bet. I would have preferred to be on my own, but there seemed to be some sort of conspiracy to see that I was never left alone. As a matter of fact, I did feel very tired for a long time after our adventure in the cellar, and I was grateful at first for their care of me. Later, I rebelled, and when no one would hear of my taking a house or a flat for myself, I volunteered to caretake for Fred while he took Sheila and the children away on an extended holiday.

  Edward cleared up the mess left by Amy with his usual efficiency, but he became very grim and difficult to approach. His chief problem was what to do with Piers, who took the events of his birthday evening hard. There was little doubt that he had suspected something of the plot against us, and had deliberately closed his eyes to the knowledge. His guilt, remorse, and fear that he had lost his father’s love drove him almost to the verge of breakdown. He was useless at the Mills, rude to his father, swore at me, and in short didn’t know where or what he was. In the end James Coulster made the surprisingly sensible suggestion that Piers be packed off to university in order, or so he said, that Piers did not let Johnny get ahead of him in the world. I think perhaps Piers decided to go in order to give himself a breathing space, but whatever the reason, the decision was justified by events. Once away from the Coulster influence, and forced to rely on his own quite considerable talents, Piers began to grow up. The last time he was home I found myself scolding him exactly as I scold Johnny and, instead of swearing at me, he merely grinned. I am beginning to like the lad, and I think he is beginning to tolerate me at last.

  Johnny managed to heal the breach between me and my sister Mary, for which I was very thankful. I humbly accept her frequent criticism of my extravagance and behaviour in exchange for becoming a sleeping partner in Tom’s building firm.

  The cut on Johnny’s head healed well, and although he will have to face a variety of problems in the future ranging from the Blakes’ wish for him to marry Sally, through a change of surname, to Piers’ hostility when both boys finally enter the Mills together, I have no doubt that Johnny will continue to land on his feet.

  Jack won his brown-haired Hazel, and I am godmother to their first child, a boy. Tinker has recently supplied me with a new car, and his son Dick has promised to take Johnny and Piers on a guided tour of the latest hot-spots when they are next home together.

  By Christmas I was at my wits’ end about Edward. He would not climb into bed with me because he said he wanted to prove his feeling for me was not just sex, but neither would he set a date for our wedding. The truth was, of course, he was afraid he would fail.

  Finally I wrote him a note saying I was sorry that things hadn’t worked out, that it would be best if I went back to America where, although I would be unhappy for a while, I would no doubt find someone to marry me. I delivered the note in person to his secretary at the Mills, and went home to make my preparations.

  Within half an hour he arrived, in a very bad temper.

  I was alone, of course. I was wearing a very becoming negligee, bought specially for the occasion. I protested, but not too much.

  He put me over his knee. It hurt. I yelled, but not too loudly.

  After that he demonstrated to our mutual satisfaction that I had been right about him, and Amy wrong. We were married the following week by special licence, and nine months later our darling daughter Carla was born.

  We don’t live at White Wings, but at Gresham Place, which is high on a hill outside the city, and has its own farm attached. We bought it with my money, and it is my responsibility to restore the decrepit house and non-productive farm. At the last count I was responsible for forty-one persons; for my husband and my daughter, for Johnny and Piers, who frequently stay with us at weekends, for the au pair girl and the resident nanny, for the gardener and his wife, who helps me in the house, and their son, who is on the wild side; also for the farmer and his wife and their three children, two dogs, three cats, four pet rabbits and eighteen pet mice. And if you don’t consider pet mice are ‘persons’, I refer you to all the children on the place, who believe otherwise.

  Oh, yes, I forgot to include one of the boys from Edward’s club, who seems to find his way here most weekends and sometimes plays truant to help me with the hens. Are hens persons, too? Oh, I give up!

  It was Edward’s idea to give me all this responsibility. He says the only way to keep me out of mischief is to keep me busy. My latest task has been to organise a gigantic christening party for Carla. I have a beautiful new dress from Dior for the occasion and only one big Problem.

  How can I toast my daughter’s health in water?

  If you enjoyed reading Cry for Kit you might be interested in Scream for Sarah by Veronica Heley, also published by Endeavour Press.

  Extract from Scream for Sarah by Veronica Heley

  CHAPTER ONE

  Everything was all right until the tramp arrived. Or was it? Had things started to go wrong before that, with Toby’s arrival?

  I am not quite sure how it was that Toby got himself invited to Elm Tree House in the first place. Apparently I’d asked him at the office party, although I couldn’t remember having done so. It wasn’t as if I knew him well, although I had been out with him a couple of times in a crowd for a drink after office hours, and I had danced a lot with him on the night of the party. I wouldn’t have thought he was serious about me, but he must have been to have travelled some eighty miles from London to visit me. I knew he’d had to take special leave to come, and it wasn’t even as if I were there on holiday, but to clear the place of my grandmother’s belongings.

  I suppose I was flattered, for at the age of twenty six I, Sarah Long, felt I was in no position to turn a prospective husband from the door. That is, assuming that Toby was a prospective husband, and he had certainly been acting like one.

  Elm Tree House was the grandiose name given to the pair of ancient cottages which my grandfather had knocked into one dwelling and modernised some twenty years ago. There was the stump of an elm tree at the far end of the garden, which was large enough to occupy my grandfather almost exclusively in the years of his retirement. It was the garden which had killed him in the end, since he had insisted on digging a trench for his sweet peas while recovering from a bout of bronchitis. My grandmother could never bear the scent of the flowers afterwards.

  And now my grandmother had also died, and hens scratched wild in the cobbled yard and neglected garden.

  There was a Family Council after her funeral, and it was decided that as I was the only unmarried member of the family, and as I had inherited my grandmother’s jewellery, I should clear Elm Tree House of her belongings, prior to its sale. I didn’t fancy the task, but I had been my grandparents’ favourite, and I owed them something, because I had spent nearly all my holidays with them when I was a child. My
father and mother have never been able to have a discussion about anything without it developing into an argument, and in my youth I had deliberately chosen to spend my free time out of reach of their clacking tongues. This time my parents were actually at one on the subject; they would pay my air fare to go abroad on holiday, if I would first clear out Elm Tree House. It was high summer, and I was feeling jaded; I agreed, and wangled an extra week’s sympathy leave from the office. I didn’t think I’d done too badly out of the deal, until Toby came to join me.

  I hadn’t really expected him to come. He’d said he would muck out the hen-house for me—a job which I detested—but I couldn’t imagine him doing it. ‘For you, I would!’ he’d said. I disliked Granny’s hens, and one of my tasks that week was to be to sell them to the neighbouring farmer who had been keeping an eye on them since her death.

  I got away on Wednesday night, and spent all day working at the house on Thursday before Toby arrived, bearing a ready-cooked meal for supper. I blessed him for that, and we opened some of Granny’s home-made wine to go with it. Yet I was uneasy; I hadn’t any good clothes with me, and I didn’t feel I showed to advantage in a sweater and jeans. Then Toby took my car out and dented the wing; I still couldn’t understand why he hadn’t taken his own car when he went to get some cigarettes after supper; he said it had been giving him trouble, but it started all right when he drove it into the garage on Friday morning. We use a solidly-built converted stable as a garage, but there is only room for one car in it, and I didn’t see why his car should be housed there, instead of my Mini.

  Another thing; he kept on saying how perfect the house was, but he didn’t seem interested in the building itself; he wanted to know how often tradesmen came down the long muddy lane from the road, and how far away we were from our nearest neighbours. It did cross my mind to wonder if he wanted to be sure no-one would hear me if I screamed when he made advances to me, but of course that was nonsense. In the first place, I’d have liked him to make advances to me, because I felt it was about time I lost my virginity, and in the second place I don’t consider myself the screaming type. The fighting type, yes; I’ve brought my knee up once or twice when men have got too fresh with me, but screams are definitely out. They are a waste of time and energy. Besides, I didn’t make a habit of getting into situations where I needed to scream for help.