False Step Read online

Page 22


  ‘One moment, before we start. Mr Frasier and Ms Cunningham have pointed out that this is a private service for Mr Matthew Kent. Very few people were expected. Perhaps some of you are here for the twelve thirty service for someone else? If so, would you kindly wait outside?’

  Sixteen

  ‘We’re here for Matthew.’ Sylvester’s voice, still rich in spite of his years of smoking.

  There was a general chorus of agreement. Craning her neck, Bea managed to see Goldie start to her feet, handkerchief fluttering. ‘Here’s to my poor dear Matthew!’

  If her words were inappropriately expressed, at least they conveyed the sentiments of everyone in the chapel. Or almost everyone. Lily Cunningham looked as if she were going to cry as well, though in her case the tears would be those of rage. Bea wished she could see the faces of the Frasier family. They must be as bewildered as Lily at seeing the chapel fill up with so many mourners.

  ‘Continue!’ This was Sylvester, again.

  ‘Well …’ The minister glanced at his watch, realized he was going to run late if he were not careful, and proceeded to tell the congregation to turn to the service book. Lily Cunningham now needed to find a seat, but the front rows were full. It seemed the Frasiers were in no mood to make room for her, and neither was Sylvester. In fact, most rows were full. As Lily retreated back down the chapel, looking for a place, it seemed at first that no one was willing to let her in. Finally one woman shuffled along to give her a seat.

  The service proceeded as had been planned; a poor, rushed sort of send-off. Bea wondered where God was in all this. It must grieve him to see what was going on. She thought of her dear Hamilton’s funeral service, on a fine afternoon on the other side of the world. Tears gathered in her eyes and she wiped them away. She realized, with a jolt of pain, that she was wearing the same outfit today that she had worn for his rite of passage.

  Gradually the age-old words of the service captured her attention. She bent her head to pray. The chapel was filled with a hushed silence, save for the voice of the minister, who seemed at last to enter into the right frame of mind. He even appeared to be slightly apologetic as he read out a curt, two-line eulogy of the deceased and pressed the button for the coffin to slide out of sight. No one moved as their eyes followed the disappearance of the coffin. Even after it had gone, a very real sense of loss kept the congregation still. The minister pronounced a blessing and disappeared into the vestry.

  Before anyone else could move, Sylvester heaved himself on to his feet, wobbled, but made it upright. Turning to the mourners, he said, ‘This is not the last we’ll hear of our friend. The life of our very good friend Matthew, merry monarch of comedy, will be celebrated in a memorial service at his own church in due course. Meanwhile, if anyone would like to meet back at my place, I’ve got in a couple of cases of champagne, and some eats. You are all very welcome.’

  The spell was broken. People began to move out of the chapel, talking in a subdued fashion to one another. Some used handkerchiefs, some sniffed. A lot of air-kissing, hugging and hand-shaking went on. Bea hung back, watching people’s reactions.

  She was shocked to see how ill Sylvester looked, and how loud his breathing was as he made his way slowly outside, surrounded by a crowd of friends and acquaintances. She caught snatches of conversation.

  ‘Where’s the daughter? What’s her name?’

  ‘Damaris. Dead too, Sylvester says. It must be catching.’

  ‘Who’s the death’s head? I don’t recognize her.’

  ‘Bert’s daughter, I think. Although he always denied she was his. A shame he couldn’t make it.’

  Knots of people formed in the aisle, only to be moved on by deferential officials, worrying about getting the next cremation going on time.

  Goldie moved down the aisle, graciously accepting condolences, her companion one step to the rear.

  Sylvester offered her his arm. ‘Doing the old boy proud with those roses. Come and sink a glass or two in his memory?’

  She fluttered eyelashes. ‘I have to be at the reading of the will.’

  Sylvester bent his head and whispered in her ear. She looked shocked. ‘What? Damaris is dead, too? But … surely …’ She ran after Derek, who had reached the door and was shaking hands with the congregation as they left.

  ‘Derek,’ she said, holding her hat on with one hand, ‘where’s Damaris? Sylvester said something about … no, that can’t be true. Damaris will see me right. I mean … Matthew must have left me something.’

  Lily intervened, sharp nose quivering, in a squeaky voice. ‘He didn’t leave you anything. I should know. I was one of the executors of his will. You might as well go and have a drink with Sylvester.’

  Wild-eyed, Goldie turned on the bespectacled man at Derek’s side. ‘Are you the solicitor? Is this true?’

  He stammered. ‘Th–this is n–neither the t–time nor place t–to—’

  Goldie stamped her foot. ‘Well, did he or did he not leave me something?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Lily. She nudged the solicitor. ‘Tell her! Go on.’

  He shrugged. ‘It is as Ms Cunningham says.’

  Goldie, accepting the bad news, gave a little shriek. Her companion muttered, ‘Told you not to waste money on flowers!’

  Sylvester, hiding amusement, took her by the elbow. ‘Come along, my dear. Champagne soothes all sorrows.’ He moved slowly off on his son’s arm, Goldie in tow and her companion sticking to her heels.

  The solicitor, looking uncomfortable, fled the scene, followed by the Frasier family in a bunch. Lily Cunningham trod on their heels, calling out after them that she needed a lift.

  Piers came out with an arm through that of the woman he’d been sitting next to. He didn’t look around for Bea, which she thought was just like him; no doubt his companion had some project lined up for him, in or out of bed. Bea was shocked at how much his attitude annoyed her. Piers had known she was going to be there, and it was extremely rude of him – although absolutely typical – not even to have looked around for her.

  As the last few people left, Bea overheard another interesting titbit. A heavily-built man observed to his stick-thin companion, ‘Where was Bert? I wouldn’t have thought he’d want to miss this.’

  His friend shrugged. ‘Not like him to miss a freebie, either. Gone into a home, someone said.’

  The chapel was almost empty. Bea saw that Gail was mopping herself up in her seat. Overdoing the grief a trifle? After all, she hadn’t had any contact with Matthew for years. Or had she? Was there something Gail wasn’t telling?

  Bea leaned over Gail. ‘Are you all right? I thought you’d be sitting with the Frasiers.’

  ‘Do I look a wreck?’ Gail put her hankie away. ‘These affairs always get to me.’ She looked around her. ‘Derek didn’t understand why I should want to come. I’m surprised Trixie brought her children, but they behaved themselves during the service, didn’t they?’

  As they reached the door together, Derek bustled up. ‘Gail, you’ve got your car here, haven’t you? Mine refuses to start and I’m not calling out the garage to get it towed home, not today. I’ll have a go at getting it started again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll junk it. It’s about time I had a better car. But we’ve got to get back home straight away because the solicitor’s gone on ahead and he won’t hang around, will he? Oh yes, and Lily wants a lift, too.’

  Gail said, ‘It’s lucky Mrs Abbot is here, too, isn’t it? Between us, we’ll cope.’

  Friday afternoon

  A light drizzle had settled in, which didn’t make the Frasier house look any more attractive than before. The solicitor had already arrived and was sitting in his car outside when Bea arrived with Trixie and her two children. Gail, with the Frasiers and Lily, parked behind them.

  Bea had welcomed the chance to chat to Trixie, who was as undersized as Derek was plump. Her two children were silent, hooked into iPods and electronic games. One was male, one female. One had dirty blonde hair, the other had an Afro
. Two different fathers? Trixie wore a lot of cheap rings, but none on the fourth finger of her left hand.

  Throughout the journey Trixie talked about how hard-done-by she’d been through a series of jobs and how every man she ever knew had let her down, and what a relief it would be to move in with Derek now he was finally rid of his posh wife so that they could have some fun together.

  ‘About the only good thing that cow ever did,’ said Trixie, hopping out of the car in front of the house, ‘was to make sure her sugar daddy left her some money.’ All her movements were quick and sharp. ‘Come on, you two! We haven’t got all day!’

  Bea made sure the car was properly locked up, thinking it wasn’t her place to disabuse Trixie about possible riches in store … or not, as the case might be.

  Once inside, Trixie acted as hostess. She ordered her children to make themselves scarce upstairs. She told the solicitor to sit in the big armchair, while relegating Bea and Gail to upright chairs at the side of the room. She switched on the electric fire, remarking that it would take some time to warm up and what the electricity bill was going to be like, she didn’t dare think. They all kept their coats on.

  Lily hovered, waiting to be seated, but Trixie ignored her. It was Gail who asked Lily if she would like to freshen up? Lily shook her head, and moved the packaging from the new TV to take a seat in the window. The flowers in the vase on the window sill were completely dead.

  Derek produced a bottle and poured sherries all round. Even for Tom, who was told to take his upstairs and not make a fuss about it.

  Lily crossed plump legs and sipped, looking bored. In repose her mouth had a downward droop.

  Gail refused sherry, as did Bea. Derek gave Bea a glass despite her protest, so she held it in her hand waiting for an opportunity to put it down somewhere safe. Derek gulped down his glass, and poured himself another. ‘I don’t drink this stuff myself usually, but Damaris always said you gave sherry to solicitors.’ He grinned, hoisting up trouser legs as he seated himself beside Trixie. ‘So … on with the show, right? Let’s have it. The old man left everything to Damaris, right?’

  The solicitor fingered documents in his briefcase, drawing out a sheaf of papers and leafing through them.

  ‘Oh, get on with it, man,’ said Derek. ‘No legal jargon. A plain “yes” is all we want. Does Damaris inherit the lot?’

  The solicitor nodded. ‘Yes, b–but …’

  ‘That’s all we need to know.’ Derek drained his second glass. ‘No ifs or buts. Lock, stock and barrel. House and contents. Car. Stocks and shares. Everything, right?’

  ‘B–but—’

  ‘Then we can take possession when we like, eh? Move in tomorrow. Get hold of the car. Do you know where it’s kept? Well, never mind. There’ll be some paperwork somewhere in the house—’

  Lily uncrossed her legs, and lifted one forefinger. ‘There’s just one little tiny thing you’ve overlooked, Derek. Uncle Matthew left everything to Damaris, yes. She asked me to be her executor, and of course I agreed. But when she came to think things over, she realized that it wasn’t quite fair for her to have everything and leave me with nothing. After all, I was just as much a member of his family as her. The very next day she made a will herself, leaving the house and its contents to me. And that’s why she gave me her bunch of keys.’

  The solicitor grabbed at his papers, trying to tease one out of the sheaf. ‘Yes, I’ve Mrs Frasier’s will here, b–but – if you c–could hold on a moment—’

  Derek’s blood pressure was rising. He poured himself another glass. ‘What trickery is this? You weren’t a member of his family, not of his blood, nor—’

  ‘Neither was Damaris.’ Lily stroked her wings of hair, left and right, her manner complacent. ‘If there was any trickery involved, it was the way she sucked up to Uncle Matthew. You can’t deny it.’

  ‘I can, and I will. And if you think you’re going to get away with what’s rightfully mine—’

  ‘P–please!’ The solicitor flapped his papers around. ‘P–please! Both wills will have to go to probate and nothing can be touched till then. Is that clearly understood?’ In enforcing his authority, he lost his stammer.

  Silence.

  Lily licked her forefinger and drew it across her almost non-existent left eyebrow … and then across her right. ‘Understood. But I need something in writing to prove that I’m to inherit. I have bills to meet, my father sold our house over my head and I need to find somewhere else to live. I shall have to get a loan to tide me over.’

  ‘I can provide you with a letter to the effect that you inherit the house and contents, if you’ll call at the office tomorrow,’ said the solicitor, cramming papers back into his briefcase. And to Derek, ‘Mrs Frasier made me executor of her will, and I’m bound to respect her wishes.’

  ‘She wasn’t in her right mind when she made that will,’ said Derek.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said the solicitor, standing up and jerking his jacket down at the back. ‘She seemed all right to me. Perfectly in control. Ms Cunningham was there when she made the will, though not a witness, of course, as she was a beneficiary. House and contents only to Ms Cunningham. My clerk witnessed the will, as did a girl from the dress shop next door. If you wish to contest your wife’s will, then that is your right, but I cannot see under what grounds you can do so.’

  Lily drained her glass and set it down. ‘If that’s all, I’ll be on my way. Derek; don’t be such a bad loser. You had nothing and you’ll get nothing. So what’s new?’

  Derek’s blood pressure was far too high. He tugged at his tie. ‘If I know you, you’ll be in that house tomorrow, taking stuff out to sell.’ To the solicitor, ‘If she’s got Damaris’s keys, what’s to stop her clearing the house and selling the stuff?’

  Bea leaned forward. ‘Mrs Frasier asked us to prepare an inventory of the contents of the house; for which, incidentally, we have not yet been paid. Mr Frasier, I gave you one copy and I have another here. I can supply copies to all other interested parties. I have the second set of keys, which will be kept in the bank until probate is granted. So, if anything is taken out of that house before that time, we’ll know that Ms Cunningham was responsible. Right?’

  Lily flushed, an unpleasant sight. ‘I’m no thief!’

  Derek guffawed. ‘Prove it.’

  Lily tucked both wings of hair behind her ears, exposing even more of her puffy cheeks and sharp nose. ‘If you go around saying things like that, Derek, I’ll sue. It’s slander, that’s what it is. That house belongs to me and I can go in whenever I like!’

  ‘Not yet it doesn’t.’ Derek swung around to the solicitor. ‘Tell her!’

  The solicitor was conciliatory. ‘Probate can take anything from six weeks to six months or even longer.’ He twitched a smile into place. ‘Ms Cunningham, as executor, you will want to proceed with all possible speed with probate for Mr Kent’s will. If you need any assistance, I shall be happy to …’ He wafted one hand in the air, clutching his briefcase under the other arm.

  Gail got to her feet. ‘I’ll see you out.’

  Lily hurried after them. ‘Can you give me a lift to the Tube station? I don’t drive and I’ve not enough money for a taxi.’

  Once they’d gone, Trixie turned on her brother, white-faced with anger. ‘Derek, you told me it was all done and dusted, that we could move in to—’

  Derek jerked his head towards Bea, and Trixie fell silent, chewing her lip.

  Bea got to her feet. ‘It’s about time I was moving on, too.’

  ‘You’ve got the keys in a safe place?’

  ‘In the office, yes. They go into the bank tomorrow.’

  ‘You said you’d bring them with you this afternoon.’

  Bea shook her head. ‘It was you who said that. I’m waiting to see how the wills stand up before I hand them over to anyone.’

  Derek wanted to take a swing at her. She could see him calculating how far she stood from him. She could read in his eyes how much he wanted to
hit her. She stood very still, not exactly daring him to hit her, but letting him know she wasn’t afraid.

  Gail put her head around the door. ‘I’m just going to check on Tom’s arm, and then I’ll be off, too. It’s stopped raining, thank goodness. Shall I see you out, Bea?’

  Bea hadn’t even taken off her coat, so picked up her bag and went out to join Gail, who had opened the front door and was standing on the doorstep. The fresh air outside was keen, but welcome.

  Gail said, ‘We haven’t had our talk yet. Can you manage the same place as before? Six thirty? You noticed the omission, of course?’

  ‘Don’t know how I kept my face straight.’

  ‘Matthew left his whole estate to Damaris, but Damaris only left Lily the house and contents. Which means that—’

  ‘The car, the stocks and shares and anything else he owned outside the house, should still go to Derek.’ Bea grinned. ‘Now I wonder why didn’t we point that out to him?’

  ‘I know I ought to have said something, but … he’s so greedy, I can’t bear to listen to him. Didn’t he care about Damaris at all?’ She sighed. ‘Don’t answer that. I don’t think he ever did, but he might at least pretend … no, he couldn’t. I don’t think Tom cares, either. Oh, they’re both going to feel her absence because she used to do everything for them, but that’s not missing someone because you love them, is it?’

  Bea shook her head. She knew the difference, too, and it wasn’t.

  Gail followed Bea out to her car. ‘Bea, are you any happier than I am about this? Because for two pins I’d go to the police and say … but that’s the trouble. I don’t know what to say, except that I don’t understand … well, anything.’

  ‘It stinks, doesn’t it? Well, I’ve got to get back, see what’s going on at work. We’ll talk this evening, not least about Matthew.’