False fire Page 18

  Mel also blushed. ‘Yes, we’ve had a lovely time.’

  Bea thought those two might have slept in the same bed, but they hadn’t had sex. There was a delightful innocence hanging around them, which was more than she could say for the two girls, whose heads were turning to each person as they spoke.

  Mel released her hair from its ponytail, and shook it back around her face. ‘I have to see to an old lady, give her her lunch, but if you like, afterwards …? That is, if Mrs Abbot doesn’t need me again today? If she does, of course I’ll stay. But if Alicia is going out with her grandpa then perhaps I could help you, Steve? Take phone messages for you, drive you around?’

  Steve’s blush deepened. It really did! ‘Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.’

  Bea thought, Curses! I really could do with Mel watching out for Bernice. She said, ‘Of course we can manage, Bernice. Can’t we?’

  Bernice nodded, wide-eyed. Probably thinking she could get away with murder if Mel’s eye was taken off her. Well, not murder, precisely. But mayhem, definitely. Bea had no illusions about that one.

  Steve relaxed. He had a surprisingly charming smile when he wasn’t worried half out of his mind. ‘That would be wonderful, Mel.’

  Young love! Oh well, even if it doesn’t last, it will help Steve through a particularly rotten time of his life.

  Sunday afternoon

  Peace and quiet. After the hustle and bustle of cooking, serving and eating a scratch lunch, everyone departed except for Bernice and Bea. Bea finished emptying the dishwasher and filled it up again. Bernice wandered off with Teddy. When Bea had tidied the kitchen, she found Bernice lying, face down, on the settee in the sitting room, with her head on Teddy. The bear gave Bea a glassy stare, which might or might not indicate that he was fed up with being treated like a pillow.

  Bea blew him a kiss and descended to her office. Ah, the wonderful peace of a wet Sunday afternoon. Rain beat on the French windows. Gusts of wind blew across the garden, and the plants bowed and shook before them.

  Winston plopped through his cat flap and proceeded to give himself a thorough grooming. He didn’t like rain. Bea offered to give him a rub-down with a towel, but he declined, believing he could do the job better himself.

  Bea switched on her computer. She was going to look at any work emails that might have come in … yes, yes … yes. Nothing that couldn’t wait. She Googled Josh and his family.

  Mm. Yes. Originally builders specializing in property to let at the high end of the market, new prestigious developments, nothing under five million preferred. Film stars, Middle East and Far East buyers, football players … tycoons of all descriptions welcome. Also management of properties. Did they locate their main office overseas?

  Ah, no. It seemed they had enough of a conscience left to pay tax in the UK.

  Josh – picture supplied – son of the founder of the firm, way back … more pictures with the great and the good. Wife’s death … Nothing untoward there.

  Two sons. Public school. Son made the sales director … aha! Not Steve, but Gideon, looking straight at the camera with what Bea always thought of as ‘estate agent sincerity’.

  No sign of Steve. How come?

  Ah, separate company, of which Steve is managing director. The second company was run from the same headquarters in the City, but was for managing property, leases, repairs, etc. Work which carried no film star kudos. Backstage work, nitty-gritty. Needing meticulous oversight, dealing with difficult clients, builders who didn’t do the work properly or … yes, Steve would be good at that. And, what was the betting that the Plain Jane company was actually more valuable than the flashy sales front?

  Bea leaned back in her chair and thought about that. It seemed to her that Josh had understood his sons’ capabilities and given each what they were good at. She also noticed that while Gideon, the lightweight, had been made sales director of his concern, Steve had been made managing director of his. Quite so. Appropriate and very wise.

  She put in a request for more information, this time on Facebook. Yes, Gideon was on Facebook, photos of him yachting, golfing, surfing, and squiring a succession of lovelies – though there was no sign of Faye. Steve had said Faye was a recent acquisition, hadn’t he?

  Nothing for Steve. No, he wouldn’t be interested in putting himself on Facebook, would he? It required a certain amount of self-esteem to do that, and Steve was lacking in that direction.

  Faye Starman, however, was present in spades. Faye the model. Faye the red carpet starlet (what, really?). Faye the arm-candy for a number of men who looked well heeled and approximately twice her age.

  Bea leaned closer to the screen. Was the man in the background of the snap of Faye on a beach somewhere … was that, could that be the policeman who had threatened Bea with this and that? Mm. Not proven. Not clear enough an image.

  Next up: Alaric. Yes, title. Yes, estate. Nice-looking manor house. Minor racing celebrity. Tuxedos to the fore at various prestigious events. He looked good in black and white. Partner in … no, director of … various companies. Public Relations? Not clear exactly what he did. Possibly not much? Living on inherited money? Nowadays that might mean living on a dwindling income, hence the marriage to the wealthy Daphne.

  His wedding to …? Wait a minute. Not Daphne. A fake blonde with fake eyelashes. His first wife? Mm, mm. No photos of him with Daphne. There would have been some, originally, wouldn’t there? Taken down recently? Uh-huh.

  Nothing of him with Ninette.

  Try Ninette. Party organizer. That fits. Weddings, A-list guest lists, stretch limousines, minor film stars, et cetera. Pictures of her, smiling, in the company of important-looking people: the men wore expensive clothes and the women wore not much of anything but had obviously spent money on boobs and Botox. A nice picture of Ninette looking younger and less harassed than she appeared in reality. She was thin enough to model clothes, wasn’t she?

  There were no photographs of her with Alaric. Why not? Too new a relationship? What was going on there?

  Who else?

  Giorgio, Daphne’s toy boy. A multitude of beefcake stills. Were they still called ‘beefcake’? Nice pecs. He stripped well. A face which was handsome without having much in the way of character. The sort of face and body you expected to see on a pin-up calendar or advertising some healthy drink. Or unhealthy junk food.

  Heavy breathing at her side.

  Bernice, hair in a tangle, trailing Teddy behind her. ‘Did you have a look at Uncle Bill’s place? I went there with Lissy once. It’s big. And noisy, with builders all over the place.’

  Bea started. She hadn’t thought of looking William up. Or had she? Was that what she’d been working up to all along?

  Bea Googled him. And yes, up he came. William, Lord Morton. Money made by earlier generations in trade with the Far East. Importer of teas. Later, they’d moved into fine wines. Up came the picture of a sprawling manor house, built in the eighteenth century. The Morton men married heiresses here and there … family ennobled in the early twentieth century, services to education. Education!? Ah, founding public libraries, setting up scholarships.

  Oh, that sort of charity work; nitty-gritty and out of the public eye.

  Like Steve.

  William Morton, Harrow and Cambridge. Same as Josh. William went into the family firm … took only son into partnership … firm sold some years previously.

  He’d married, yes, yes. Nice looking. Amateur musician of some fame. She died, et cetera.

  Their son – good-looking, weak chin. Took after his mother in looks? Lacking William’s strength of character? Son married Daphne, produced one girl child, Alicia. Son divorced. Married again, American girl with a strong chin. Two boys. Now living in Florida.

  Bea leaned back in her chair. Bernice leaned against Bea’s arm. They contemplated the screen together in silence.

  Bernice said, ‘There’s something about an entail. Lissy doesn’t understand it. He did tell her, but she doesn’t have
a brain for figures. What it means is that William’s poor nowadays because he had to pay off his son, who doesn’t want to come back here to England to live.’

  Ah. To keep landed estates together, the heir would sign an agreement on reaching his majority, which would bind him to hand on the estate to his son or heir. That was it in a nutshell, though Bea believed it could get very complicated, involving trustees and distant relations and … well, that wasn’t the case here. It sounded as if the son in America had been given money in order to break the entail, which would mean that he had no further right to the estate and William could pass it on to Alicia in due course.

  Which was the reason why Alicia was doubly an heiress?

  Bea said, ‘Does Alicia miss her father?’

  A shrug. ‘She can’t hardly remember him. That’s best, really. I can’t hardly remember mine. That’s best, too. Auntie Sybil says it doesn’t matter where you get your loving from, so long as someone gives it to you.’

  Bea drew the child closer to her. Perhaps she herself was beginning to love Bernice? She’d experienced strong maternal feelings for her own son, but … a sigh … he’d long since grown up, and she hardly ever saw him and his children, what with this and that and his being so busy.

  She’d never thought she’d feel love for a child again. But ups-a-daisy, here it was. The urge to protect. She said, ‘Your mother does love you, you know.’

  ‘I know that. And my stepdad is lovely, he really is, but I don’t look like them, and I don’t think like them. I know it’s my fault. I really am a Holland. We don’t think like other people. We’re different. We don’t mean to be, but we’re not good with people. Not really. Alicia’s different. She needs me.’

  ‘You rang your mother?’

  A sharp nod. ‘No change there. She says I’m better off here.’

  Which was possibly true.

  Bernice continued, ‘Great-aunt Sybil is lovely but she is awfully old and doesn’t want to run around and play games and stuff. I missed out on school when I travelled around with her and it was a bit boring, so really it is best that I go back to boarding school and just see her in the holidays.’

  The words, ‘And perhaps see you as well?’ hung in the air between them. Because the child realized that Bea did understand her, and value her. Bernice wanted another solid presence in her life; someone she could rely on. Someone who understood her. It was a plea from a motherless, fatherless child for love. How could Bea refuse?

  ‘Yes,’ said Bea, knowing that she might be committing herself to a relationship.

  Bernice planted a kiss on Bea’s neck and quickly withdrew. She held up Teddy, wrinkling her nose. ‘He’s got strawberry jam on him, and toast and stuff. He’s been a very dirty boy and needs a good spanking.’

  Bea switched off her computer. ‘How about we try to clean him up with dry shampoo? The only thing is, it might make him smell a bit different for a while.’

  Bernice bounced towards the stairs. ‘We can always hang him out in the fresh air for a while. When it stops raining.’

  The front doorbell rang as Bernice was brushing the last of the dry shampoo out of Teddy’s fur.

  Bea opened the door to find Alaric and Ninette on the doorstep. He looked as sleepy and disinterested as ever. She looked as if she’d lost weight. Her neck was so long and thin that it made her head with its pile of artificial curls look even larger than usual.

  He was smoking another of his cheroots and didn’t ask if Bea minded … which she did.

  Ninette said, ‘We’ve come for the child.’ No greetings, no social chitchat. Straight in for the kill.

  Bea said, ‘Alicia’s not here.’

  Ninette pushed past Bea into the hall. ‘That’s what you said this morning. We’re not going to be fooled twice.’

  Bea shut the front door, and gestured them in. ‘See for yourself. You searched the premises before, didn’t you? She was not here then, and she is not here now.’

  Ninette threw open the door to the sitting room so violently that it banged against the wall. One glance and she dashed past Bea into the kitchen, where Bernice was fluffing up Teddy’s ears. ‘The wrong girl. Alaric, I bet this one knows where the girl is hiding.’

  ‘My name is Bernice,’ said Bernice, being polite. ‘Alicia did come here after you left yesterday. But she’s not here now.’

  Alaric removed the cheroot from his mouth and bent down, nose to nose, grasping one of Bernice’s shoulders. He gave her a little shake. ‘You are only a little girl, Bernice, and you can’t possibly understand what’s going on here. I want you to get it into your thick head that Alicia is my daughter, and if I say she goes back to school, then neither you nor this agency madam here can stop me. Understand?’

  Agency madam? Bea realized he was trying to insult her. Instead, she was amused. She said, in her creamiest tone, ‘I’m sure William told you that the child did eventually turn up here, in a distressed condition. He informed the school and her uncle straight away. I expect you would like to thank us for looking after her.’

  ‘You hid her from us! Admit it!’ Ninette almost hissed. As before, she seemed far more angry and upset than he.

  Bea was getting bored. ‘No, we didn’t. And no, she’s not here. Now, would you kindly leave, or I shall have to call the police.’

  ‘If we have to wait more than five minutes for you to produce her,’ said Ninette, ‘then it will be us who call the police.’

  Alaric pinched Bernice’s ear, bringing tears to her eyes. ‘That’s enough, Ninette. I believe her when she says Alicia’s not here.’ He reached out to grasp Bea’s arm. And twisted it. ‘You! Tell me where she is. Now!’

  ‘Ouch! Do you want me to sue you for assault? Out of my house! Now!’

  He smiled, and took his hand away. He put the cheroot to his lips and puffed. ‘Please, pretty, please. If you don’t tell me, I’ll put my cheroot to good use.’

  Despite herself, Bea felt fear. There was something coldly repellent about him. She believed him when he said he’d do her an injury. She rubbed her arm. ‘If you’d asked me politely in the first place, I would have told you. William has taken Alicia to see her mother in hospital.’

  Ninette looked shocked. ‘But she’s …’ And stopped herself. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Alaric, they’re playing games with us. Suppose we take this child instead, just till Alicia is handed over.’

  ‘Nowhere to put her, my dear,’ said Alaric. He took the cheroot from his mouth, reached over Bernice’s head and pressed the lighted end into Teddy’s chest.

  Teddy groaned.

  Bernice screamed.

  Bea dived across the counter. Pulling out a wickedly sharp carving knife, she swished it in the air not at Alaric, but at Ninette’s curls. ‘Out! Now!’

  Ninette screamed and backed away, her mouth awry.

  Alaric smiled. ‘What a fuss about nothing. Come, Ninette.’ He walked back through the hall, opened the front door wide and went down the steps to the street.

  Ninette shuffled sideways till she was out of the range of Bea’s knife, and ran after him.

  Bea dropped the knife, and took a sobbing Bernice in her arms. ‘There, there!’

  ‘He’s killed Teddy!’

  ‘No, he hasn’t. Look, Teddy’s still smiling even though he’s been wounded.’ She rocked the child to and fro. She was crying herself. ‘That wicked man!’

  ‘I hate him!’ cried Bernice.

  ‘So do I.’ Bea reached for the tissues, and mopped them both up. Slowly they both regained control.

  Bea said, ‘I’ve got some red ribbon in my sewing box and some pretty buttons. Suppose we make Teddy a medal to wear over his wound? Then, when we look at him, we’ll remember how brave he was.’

  ‘How could they do that to Teddy, who never did them any harm?’

  ‘I can see why William wants to fight them for Alicia. We’ll help him in any way we can, right?’

  ‘Tell me what to do. I’m only a child!’

  A r
ather remarkable child. Bea said, ‘Bernice, I’m worried. What did Ninette mean by starting to say something about Daphne and not finishing the sentence? And there’s another thing. Faye has already tried to sue me for assault, and I did threaten her with a knife. We need some protection here. Do you think you could put on your jacket and take Teddy round the garden a couple of times to get rid of the last of that dry cleaning smell. And then we’ll have a nice hot drink and plan what we can do to put those nasty people where they belong.’

  FOURTEEN

  Sunday afternoon

  As soon as Bernice had gone down the steps to the garden, Bea seized her phone and rang the fire investigator.

  ‘Manisa, are you still at the site? Yes? Have you been able to get to the top of the house yet?’

  ‘Soon. Be patient.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Something’s happened here which … I realize I may be panicking unnecessarily.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I’ve had a couple of visitors, Alaric and Ninette. I think you would call them Persons of Interest in the matter of the fire? Certainly they have a motive to … No, I have no proof that … Start again. They came unannounced, desperate to find Alicia, who has gone with her grandfather to see her mother in hospital. There was no one here but me and Bernice. I asked them to leave, not once but twice. They refused. They threatened to take Bernice until I produced Alicia for them. Alaric twisted my arm. I can still feel it. I was frightened. I am not easily frightened …’ She tried to laugh. ‘I can’t believe I did this. I took a knife and threatened them.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I suspect they will file charges against me. Even though I can claim self-defence, the police might take me down to the station for questioning, and then what would happen to Bernice? She’d be at their mercy. I repeat, I’m all alone in the house, and I’m worried.’

  A long pause. Then Manisa said, ‘They came looking for Alicia but threatened to take Bernice instead?’