False Charity Page 4

  With an effort she told herself it would not be a good idea to criticize her daughter-in-law to Maggie. Bea modulated her voice from a screech of rage down to a pleasant tone. ‘Thank you, Maggie. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes. If you could put some coffee on for me?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like some porridge? I always say, you should start the day as you mean to go on, with a full stomach. Or perhaps a couple of poached eggs? No, perhaps not eggs. Too many eggs are bad for you, they say.’

  ‘Just coffee, please,’ said Bea, feeling rather faint at the thought of a cooked breakfast.

  ‘Very well. Will do. Now, when you come down, bring your dirty clothes, and I’ll put them in the washing machine for you. Oh, and don’t forget anything that needs dry-cleaning; I’ll pop it into the shop later this morning.’

  Bea bit back a sharp rejoinder, deciding it wasn’t worth having a set-to about it. The girl meant well and after all, she’d be gone in a couple of days’ time.

  Bea dressed in the least creased of items from her luggage; a pale green silk top which looked like a T-shirt but wasn’t, over cream silk-and-wool trousers. Peering into the mirror, she thought she looked hung-over but not too bad for her age. She darkened her eyelashes and eyebrows, added a spot of blusher to highlight her cheekbones, a dusting of power on her nose, and used a soft peachy lipstick. Her tan was good. Her eyes – Hamilton had always called them her ‘eagle’ eyes, because they were long-tailed and saw further than most – looked shadowed. They’d watched over a death-bed and it showed.

  Which reminded her to slip the chain of her specs around her neck. Small print defeated her nowadays. She inspected herself at the full-length mirror, turning around to make sure she was properly turned out. Putting on my armour, she thought. Let battle commence. And don’t let’s forget that attack is the best form of defence.

  Nicole arrived as Bea poured herself a third cup of black coffee. Nicole declined coffee and went straight into the sitting room, making it clear that neither she nor her pedigree dog normally spent time in a kitchen.

  A clunking sound in the garden led Bea to unlock and open the grille and then the French windows on to the balcony, from which she saw Maggie dipping watering cans into the rainwater butts, to keep the flowers going. Was a hosepipe ban in operation? She was out of touch with much that had been happening in London while she’d been away.

  Nicole had brought a laptop which she proceeded to set up, hardly thanking Bea for the present she’d brought back from New Zealand. Bea suppressed annoyance, for the gift had been expensive enough, in all truth.

  ‘Now, Bea.’ Nicole’s own mother was older than Bea, but Nicole called her mother by her Christian name, too. Nicole had seated herself in Hamilton’s favourite chair, the high-backed Victorian one. Bea told herself she wasn’t going to get weepy at that time of morning.

  ‘Thank you for the party yesterday, Nicole. It was a lovely thought.’

  ‘Yes, well, there’s lots of people who cared about Hamilton, and it’s good PR for Max to keep in touch with everyone.’

  ‘Indeed. You’ve looked after my little home beautifully, and the garden, too. Hamilton always used to say that houses are like people; they deteriorate if they’re not looked after properly.’

  ‘It’s about the house that I—’

  Bea went on the offensive. ‘Now don’t you worry. There’s no way I’m going to charge you rent for the time you’ve been living here, even though I suppose I ought to have done so. I’m just glad it fitted in with your plans to move in for a while. You must give me your new address. Are you thinking of renting somewhere? The price of a flat near Westminster must be horrendous.’

  ‘But Bea, I thought—’

  ‘No need to worry about me. I can look after myself. Take my time, look about me, make no decisions about the future for a while. That’s what Hamilton told me, and that’s what I’m going to do.’

  ‘But you’re going to live on the South Coast and—’

  ‘No, dear. That was Hamilton’s idea, not mine. I really don’t know what I’m going to do and where I’ll end up, but I doubt very much it will be in a bungalow staring out to sea. I’ve always been a Londoner, you see.’

  Nicole’s colour rose. ‘But I understood that—’

  ‘Max did suggest buying this house from me if I did eventually decide to leave London, but I can’t think about that yet. It’s far too soon. I’m just glad I made it back home in one piece.’

  Nicole hadn’t been expecting this. ‘But I got hold of a designer to draw up plans to remodel the house, bring it up to date. I’ve got quotes from the builders, and they can start on Monday. Look!’ She turned the laptop to face Bea, who blinked. Her cream and gold sitting room was currently furnished with antiques handed down through Hamilton’s family, while the designer’s plan for this room screeched colour in vermilion and green, with minimalist furniture in plastic and glass.

  Over her dead body! For the second time that morning, Bea felt her temper rise, but she subdued it and even managed a smile. ‘I’m sure you can find something nearer to Westminster than this.’

  ‘We can’t possibly afford it. We’re staying with friends until this house is ready.’

  ‘Ah, that accounts for your having left so much stuff upstairs. Do get it shifted soon, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, no. Listen; it wasn’t my idea to buy the house off you, but when Max said you’d be leaving London, it seemed as if it were meant. Of course we get allowances for having to live in London while Max is at the House, but I want a decent place where we can entertain. My people have helped us buy a flat in the constituency, but we can’t expect—’

  ‘You must go to Marsh and Parsons, who’ll find you somewhere to rent. They’re the best estate agents around. Been here for ever. What did they say this house was worth, by the way?’

  ‘Well, we didn’t exactly ask. We thought you wouldn’t want to charge the full market value, so as to keep it in the family.’

  Bea counted to five and told herself that there was no point in antagonizing her loving son’s wife. ‘You thought I wouldn’t need the full market price?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, no. I mean … you won’t need the full price to buy something down on the South Coast, and we didn’t want to get into debt.’

  Bea pointed to the laptop, and somehow hung on to a tone of sweet reason. ‘Remodelling this house would cost you an arm and a leg, so I’ve saved you that much, and you’re quite right about not wanting to get into debt. I’m sure you’ll find a delightful place to rent. Somewhere on the river?’

  ‘We’ve already spent so much money on architects. Look, this is the new wet room, and this the extension out into the garden.’ Nicole showed Bea various designs which made her feel giddy. The architect would remove all the period features which made the house so charming.

  Bea put a snap into her voice. ‘Enough, Nicole. Please. Give it a rest.’

  Nicole’s face was white with rage, which made the blusher on her cheek-bones stand out. She snapped the laptop shut, considering her next argument. ‘I don’t think you’ve thought this through. Keeping this house going costs money, and I suppose there may be some inheritance tax to pay.’

  ‘Don’t you worry your head about that, dear. The house has been in my name for ever, and Hamilton left me well provided for. I am so proud of you and Max. And so was Hamilton. To think that a son of ours is now a Member of Parliament!’

  What Hamilton had actually said was, ‘He’s a good lad and means well, though I’m not sure he’s got what it takes to succeed in his new career. If he keeps his seat and makes his way up the ladder Nicole may stick with him, but if he stays a back-bencher I give that marriage five years at most.’

  The front doorbell downstairs gave a sharp ring. Was that Coral arriving?

  Bea picked up Nicole’s little dog, which had been trying to sit on her foot. She stood, indicating that the meeting was over. ‘It seems my next job is going to be finalizing the affai
rs of the agency. I gather we’ve a dissatisfied customer on our hands.’

  Nicole was distracted, answered at random, probably worrying how she was going to break the bad news to Max. ‘I suppose that girl Maggie can handle it although Max did say she was pretty useless in the office.’

  ‘Do you know anything about Coral Payne, the caterer who got stung?

  ‘Oh, one of the troublemakers. Honestly, Bea. What a fuss about nothing.’

  One of the troublemakers? How many dissatisfied customers were there?

  Bea said, ‘Have you any idea how Max came to meet the people who ripped her off?’

  ‘We meet so many, I can’t be expected to remember which one she means. I think it was some preview at the Royal Academy. No, I remember now, it was at a charity function, Red Cross, or Mental Health or something like that. Perfectly charming woman, American, I think. Desperate to help the victims of whatever it was, somewhere in Asia. Knew about the agency, asked if Max could put her in touch with a reliable caterer. So he did. It was up to Mrs Payne to check them out.’

  Was that true? Bea wasn’t sure that it was, though she could see how Nicole might think so. Bea began to walk Nicole to the door. ‘Was Max paid an introduction fee by Coral?’

  Nicole shrugged. ‘How should I know?’

  Bea made a mental note to check. ‘I’m sorry for Coral. Don’t we have some insurance to cover bad debts?’

  ‘I don’t suppose it would cover Mrs Payne’s bad debts. If she didn’t have any insurance, then that’s her fault, not ours.’

  Bea opened the front door, and manoeuvred Nicole down the steps. Only then did she realize that she was still holding Nicole’s little dog. Nicole came back for him with a bad grace – the dog objected to being removed from Bea’s arms – and disappeared with him, looking at her watch, in the direction of the Tube station. Or to collect her car?

  Only then did Bea remember that she hadn’t asked Nicole about her own car. And Hamilton’s. Bother. Well, she didn’t need a car today, did she? There was a convenience store nearby and for anything else, there was Marks & Spencer’s Food Hall in the High Street nearby.

  She closed the front door behind her, and went down the outside steps to the basement, thinking about what she would say to Coral. It was out of the question for her to get involved, obviously. Although, wouldn’t it make her as bad as Max, if she refused to accept the blame for the shortcomings of the agency?

  The basement steps had been swept and a healthy-looking bay tree in a pot had been placed in the area below. Everything looked spotless. Full marks to Maggie. The girl might be one of the most irritating creatures alive, but she did know how to look after the house.

  Bea tried the door into the basement, but it wouldn’t open. She rang the bell and Maggie’s voice requested identification before letting her in. A good safety precaution. The tiny vestibule and loo beyond was also clean and neat though perhaps could do with a lick of paint. But if the agency were closing, what did it matter? The basement could now be turned into a self-contained flat and let out for extra income. Or sold.

  The reception room beyond seemed a trifle dim and perhaps a trifle dingy. Stick-thin Maggie was sitting at a desk in front of some filing cabinets. Coral was sitting on an upright chair with a fat file on her knee. The settee beside her was occupied by her podgy daughter – heavily pregnant – and fidgeting son-in-law.

  Bea registered the fact that Maggie was looking annoyed before Coral sprang to her feet. ‘You remember my daughter June, don’t you?’

  June was a blonde of sorts, with straggling hair tied back in a ponytail. On seeing Bea, she struggled to her feet, assisted by her husband. She was breathing hard and looked as if she’d go into labour any minute. ‘I got it out of Mum last night, what’s been going on.’

  ‘She insisted on coming,’ said Coral, looking worried.

  ‘Threw a wobbly,’ said June’s husband. He was a weaselly type, more flash than faithful if Bea knew anything about human nature, but he did seem concerned for his wife.

  June wobbled on her feet, but stayed upright. ‘Mrs Abbot, you’ve got to get that money back for us or we won’t be able to pay the mortgage, and it’s four months owing now. It was all your fault, anyway, not Jake’s.’

  That’s right, Bea remembered now that her husband’s name was Jake.

  ‘He shouldn’t be blamed for it. He did everything that was proper, everything that he should have done and if anyone says otherwise, they’ll have me to answer to.’ Her colour was alarmingly high, and she had put on so much weight in pregnancy that she could have made two of her skinny husband, and been more than a match for Bea herself.

  ‘Do calm down, dear,’ said Coral, not sounding too sure that June would listen.

  ‘That’s more than enough,’ said Bea, trying for authority.

  At which June opened her mouth and screamed. In that small room, the effect was ear-splitting.

  ‘What’s happening?’ shouted Jake.

  ‘Give her room to breathe,’ said Coral, ditching the file and clutching at June’s wrist.

  June took a deep breath and then, eyes goggling, screamed again.

  Bea made another attempt to control the situation. ‘June, shut up and listen to me!’

  June screamed again.

  Maggie shot across the room. ‘Dial 999? Ambulance?’

  June continued to scream.

  ‘Yes, do that, Maggie.’ Bea tried to attract Coral’s attention. ‘When’s she due?’

  ‘Not for another month, but you know how they are about dates!’

  Jake was shaking June’s arm, and she wasn’t taking the slightest bit of notice. ‘Shut up, girl! Shut up!’ he was saying.

  ‘Hysteria?’ Bea shouted at Coral over June’s continued screams.

  Coral shrugged. ‘It’s her first. She’s frightened. I don’t know!’

  Jake grabbed Bea’s arm. ‘Do something! Make her stop!’

  ‘I would if I could, but—’

  ‘Where’s that ambulance? We’ve got to get her to hospital.’

  Jake shouted in Bea’s ear. ‘Where’s your car?’

  She shouted back, ‘Missing!’

  Coral was vainly trying to get June to sit down again. June’s face was bright red, her hair had come down and was hanging around her face. She continued to scream.

  Coral dithered. ‘I could take her in the van, I suppose.’

  Maggie came off the phone and inserted herself into the group. ‘There’s a big pile-up on the High Street, and there may be a delay getting an ambulance through. Shall I call a taxi?’

  Coral fished out her keys. ‘I’ll take her. June!’ She shouted at her daughter. ‘We’re going to the hospital, now!’

  June gave a couple more screams, but didn’t object as her husband and mother propelled her towards the door. By the time she’d got to the steps and was being pushed up them by the combined efforts of her family, she was weeping and gulping, but no longer screaming.

  Maggie cancelled the call for an ambulance.

  Bea sank into the nearest chair and covered her eyes with her hands. June’s screams still seemed to echo through the room.

  ‘Well, what a palaver.’ Maggie screeched out a laugh, making Bea shudder. It seemed the girl had enjoyed the ruckus. ‘So what can I do for you now, Mrs Abbot? Some more coffee? Take your clothes to the cleaners?’

  ‘I’m all right for the moment, thanks.’ Bea made an effort. She picked up the file Coral had dropped on the floor, but didn’t attempt to open it. She felt shattered. She thought that June had probably brought on that alarming attack quite deliberately, in order to bring pressure to bear on the agency. But the consequences! If she lost the baby … it didn’t bear thinking about.

  Bea inched herself to her feet, sent a bright smile in Maggie’s direction and took the door into the hall. In front of her, stairs climbed to the first floor, but from the interview room on her right – the office that had once been hers – she could hear the clatte
r of computer keys. Would that be the boy Oliver?

  She hesitated about going in to speak to Oliver but eventually decided he could wait and, passing the tiny kitchen, went into the inner sanctum from which Hamilton had once directed the affairs of the agency. Because of the way the ground sloped, the reception room on the street was semi-basement, but Hamilton’s large room at the back was at ground floor level, with another grille protecting more French windows on to the garden.

  This was where Hamilton or Bea had once welcomed clients for a discreet, private chat. It was furnished as a sitting room with comfortable chairs, and just one desk by the window for Hamilton. The desk was no longer by the window, but had been moved into the middle of the room, dominating it. Presumably Max had preferred it that way, but it made a nonsense of the friendly ambiance which had once been the trademark of the agency. There was a stack of mail on the desk, awaiting Bea’s attention. More sympathy cards, letters, official-looking documents. Max had dealt with most of the forms that were needed after a death but there were some things only Bea could deal with.

  With an effort she inched the desk back to the window again. Hamilton had always liked to look out on the garden and the trees beyond and it was indeed a pleasant scene. He could gaze up at the sky, now blue as could be, with the spire of the church just visible through the summer leafage. He’d done most of his thinking in that big comfortable chair behind the desk, swinging round now to look out of the window and now to access his computer.

  His computer wasn’t there any more. Oh.

  Max knew how to use a computer, didn’t he? Yes, surely he did. Perhaps he’d stored Hamilton’s computer somewhere else, thinking Bea would have no further need of it? Or was Oliver now using it in his room upstairs?

  Well, it didn’t really matter what had happened to the computer, did it? What mattered was that June shouldn’t lose her baby, even if she had been responsible for bringing her labour on early. What mattered was that their mortgage should be paid, even if it was Jake’s fault that Coral couldn’t go to the police.