Murder In Law Read online

  Susan took Fifi into the kitchen, found a biscuit and gave it to her, with a sip of juice. Fifi managed to stop sobbing long enough to ingest both.

  When in doubt, feed them.

  The landline in the kitchen started up.

  Susan wrung out a clean tea towel, and washed Fifi’s face. Checked to see if she needed another nappy. Fifi was fastidious and was never comfortable in a soiled nappy. Yes, the nappy needed changing.

  Fifi calmed down. Lying on her back on the central island, Fifi tried to catch her foot in her mouth. She crooned to herself. Susan kissed her all over and gave her a cuddle.

  Susan manoeuvred herself round Rafael and the now naked but still shivering Little Evan, to pop Fifi back into her playpen and thrust a couple of soft toys at her. Fifi frowned and murmured her displeasure, but didn’t start screaming again. Perhaps her recent fright had tired her enough for her to drop off to sleep? But if she slept now, would she sleep the night through?

  Susan, free to move without Fifi, got another biscuit and a cup of milk from the kitchen and held them out to Jenny, who first pretended she was not interested, but eventually allowed herself to be enticed away from Rafael’s leg. Once Jenny was standing on her own two feet, Susan picked her up, noted that she was smelly, ignored the fact, told her she was a good girl, and dumped her in the playpen alongside Fifi.

  Someone rang the doorbell, and one of the phones started up again.

  Rafael picked up the naked, shivering boy, plucked his own leather jacket from the hook on the wall behind the stairs, and wrapped him in it.

  Susan answered the door to find the taxi driver and a teenager standing there. The girl was taller than Susan, well-built, with slightly podgy features. She was a lighter shade of brown than her father, with dark hair and eyes. Heavy duty anorak, jeans, sensible boots. No Clever Clogs but a down-to-earth, sensible girl who would stand no nonsense and therefore get none from her charges. She looked to be about the same age as Weeping Nanny, but Susan thought she’d be a hundred times more capable.

  The girl said, ‘I’m Coralie. My dad said you needed an extra hand.’ She looked beyond Susan, took in the scope of the problem, shed her jacket and said, ‘Which first?’

  Rafael said, ‘I’ll bathe the boy upstairs.’ And off he went.

  Susan said, ‘Many thanks. My name’s Susan, and this’ – she gestured to the dripping lump at the bottom of the stairs – ‘is Lucia. She’s Italian. Downstairs loo and shower. On the left past the kitchen. Strip, dunk and warm her up. She brought some of her belongings in her rucksack, hopefully containing a change of clothes. I’ll find some towels.’

  Coralie didn’t wait for further instructions but bent over Lucia, coaxing and lifting her to her feet. Lucia’s face was swollen with tears. She could hardly walk, but Coralie was strong and knew what she was doing.

  ‘This way, Lucia,’ said Coralie. ‘That’s the ticket.’

  Susan followed Rafael up the stairs. Towels. They’d be in the linen chest which hopefully had come to rest on the landing? A warm dressing gown for Lucia, poor thing. Then beds must be made up for Lucia and for Evan and …

  Drat that phone! Why can’t people take the hint when we don’t answer it?

  There was an ominous swishing sound from the kitchen. Was that the dishwasher misbehaving? Well, towels first …

  The phone stopped. Brilliant.

  Susan found a couple of large bath sheets and dropped one in to Rafael, who had rolled up his sleeves and was holding a shivering small boy under the shower in their en suite.

  She hastened back down the stairs – with caution as they were brand new and she wasn’t accustomed to them as yet – and swivelled along the corridor, casting a quick eye to see that the two in the playpen were all right and not killing one another … No, they were ignoring one another, that’s good … And registered in passing that there was water on the kitchen floor which there shouldn’t be.

  She tossed the spare towel into the downstairs cloakroom, where Lucia had been divested of her sodden clothes and helped to stand … and returned to the kitchen to find a man’s bottom in front of her.

  ‘Got a leaky hose,’ said the bottom, which turned out to belong to the taxi driver, who was halfway under the sink at the side of the washing machine. ‘You got any tools, like? Pliers, perhaps.’

  ‘I’ll ask my husband. He has tools.’ Back up the stairs she went to deliver the bad news to Rafael, and to take his place rubbing down the little boy, who seemed half asleep but was warming up nicely. He’d need feeding before he was put to bed, wouldn’t he? What did she have to give them?

  That phone …!

  Now, bedrooms. Ellie had said that Susan and Rafael should have the main pieces of furniture which had already been in these rooms before the renovation, so it was not impossible to put extra bodies up for the night.

  The children would be fine all sleeping together and would be nearest to Susan and Rafael if anyone woke in the night. The smaller guestroom over the kitchen was sparsely furnished, but it would do for Lucia at a pinch.

  Oh dear. Would Evan sleep in a double bed? Well, it wasn’t huge, and they had nothing else for him. Sheets? Duvet covers? Pillows? She thought she knew where they were …

  She rubbed the little boy dry. He was looking up at her. Tears welling. He didn’t know his dad was dead and his mum being held down at the police station. Susan wasn’t going to tell him. She asked him, ‘Are you hungry? What about some porridge with honey in it?’

  His mouth tried to smile and almost made it. ‘Hippo?’ he said. ‘Jenny?’

  ‘Jenny’s fine. Downstairs with my baby. You remember my baby Fifi?’

  A nod full of doubt. ‘Hippo? Where my Hippo!’

  He was too tired to yell. He was desolate. ‘Hippo’ must be his favourite toy. His safely blanket. Susan knew the importance of such things to children. Fifi had been given lots of soft toys but was really only interested in a repulsive-looking Gonk with enormous ears which she could either wave around or shove in her mouth. She also quite liked a rather strange pink teddy bear which bore an expression of mild anxiety. She wouldn’t settle to sleep unless they were both in her cot with her.

  Susan thought that finding something else for Little Evan to hold was probably even more important than getting him warmly dressed and fed.

  Still wrapped in the towel, she carried him into the big bedroom at the back and dumped him on the unmade bed next to Fifi’s cot. Her soft toys were ranged along the windowsill. Evan could have one of those, couldn’t he?

  Evan looked at the display without interest. Then he got off the bed and reached into the cot to grab the pink teddy bear with the anxious expression. He crushed that to him with both hands.

  Oh dear. What was Fifi going to say about that?

  But for the moment, the pink bear was comforting a small boy in trouble. And then it failed to comfort. Evan smelled it. It must smell of Fifi. Well, why not?

  He threw it away from him. It wasn’t his. It wasn’t Hippo. He opened his mouth to give a mournful, tired cry.

  Susan wrapped him in a dry towel and cuddled him. He wept. She held him fast and rocked him. Eventually his tears stopped although he still sobbed, soundlessly, now and then. Susan carried him, slowly with care, down the stairs to the hall to find something for him to wear and something to eat.

  Oh dear. That phone …

  Inside the kitchen she could see two men’s behinds. Rafael’s was lean and muscular and so-o-o tempting … but she knew better than to try to caress a man’s behind when he was at work. Both men were kneeling in a sheen of water, with their heads in one of the cupboards, the contents of which were now strewn above and around them … and which would need washing and drying before they could be put away again.

  Susan told herself that it didn’t matter. It really didn’t. Water leaks can be mended. Eventually. Her kitchen would be returned to her. Shortly.

  She found the bag containing Little Evan’s clothes and took him
into the big living room to dress him in warm pyjamas and slippers with the heads of puppy dogs on them. He was docile under her hands, on the verge of sleep … which meant she could keep an eye on the two younger children, who were ignoring one another and, at least for the moment, not screaming the house down. Jenny had gathered together all the soft toys which lived in the playpen, leaving none for Fifi.

  Fifi had hauled herself to her feet and was trying to work out how to walk sideways. It was a little early for her to walk, perhaps, but she was agile and determined. She concentrated, one foot wavering around, not sure where to put it next.

  Coralie appeared. ‘Have we anything for Lucia to wear? Everything in her rucksack is soaked.’

  Nothing of Susan’s would fit that poor drowned rat. She said, ‘Take one of the towelling robes which are hanging up behind the door of the big bedroom on the right upstairs.’

  Coralie disappeared.

  A cheer arose from the kitchen. The men had fixed the problem. Well, bully for them. Susan would bet they wouldn’t think of returning anything to the cupboard, or mopping up the floor. Urgh!

  But of course she must thank them and smile. Well, they deserved to be thanked, of course. But oh … that dratted phone!

  Once Evan was warmly dressed, she popped him into the playpen, too, explaining she was going to get some food for him and Jenny. The boy followed her with his eyes as she left them for the kitchen … where she found two men with soaked jeans, giving one another a high five. Pleased with themselves.

  Well, of course they were pleased, having located and stopped a leak from the dishwasher. She ought to be pleased, too. Well, she was. Of course she was. She smiled and congratulated them, and they puffed out their chests and said that these things happened, didn’t they?

  At least the microwave was working. She shooed the men out of her domain to allow Rafael to pay off Sam, the taxi driver, and to thank him for dropping everything to help them out. Would he like to fetch Coralie when she was ready to go home? Brilliant. See you later, then.

  Coralie brought Lucia in and dumped her on a chair. She looked more dead than alive.

  Rafael didn’t want to deal with her. ‘I must change my jeans. They’re wringing wet.’

  Of course they were. And so was her floor.

  Rafael left.

  Susan said to Lucia, ‘Would you like a cuppa?’

  No reaction. Susan sighed. She said to Coralie, ‘Could you make up the beds for me while I clear up here? Back bedroom. Fifi’s cot is in there already. Make up the double bed. Then do the single bed in the front bedroom, the one over the kitchen. There should be pillows and duvets in the chest that’s on the landing. If not, try the largest of the cardboard boxes that’s landed up in the main bedroom.’

  Coralie said, ‘Sure,’ and disappeared. She was a treasure!

  Susan mopped the floor around Lucia – who didn’t offer to help – and dried and stowed away the pots and pans which had landed up on the floor. She considered the next problem on the list. They had no highchair for Jenny. They had one for Fifi, of course, but it was a starter chair for a small child and wouldn’t accommodate Jenny’s robust frame. They’d been planning to get a larger one for Fifi as soon as they moved in, but hadn’t thought they needed it yet.

  Ah well. Susan fancied she was turning into a machine to look after her enlarged family, with Coralie acting as First Lieutenant.

  Can a machine have a deputy? Well, I don’t see why not.

  Susan found some packets of porridge for the older children, which she would microwave, adding honey and/or milk to taste.

  She collected the children one by one. Fifi went into her highchair with a biscuit to gnaw on till she could be attended to properly. Jenny and Evan were seated, with care, on cushions on kitchen chairs.

  Rafael returned to help. Rafael prepared a mug of hot milk for Lucia and laced it with something which Susan decided she was not going to enquire about. Perhaps it was better to give the girl a slug of something alcoholic than sleeping pills. Poor child; adrift in a foreign country … though what she was doing walking around in the rain with young Evan after collecting him from the nursery, heaven only knew!

  ‘There now, Lucia,’ said Rafael, ‘Can you tell us yet what’s happened?’

  Lucia gazed into space with half-closed eyes, and didn’t reply.

  Rafael said, ‘She’s out of it. I’ll carry her upstairs and put her … where?’

  Susan signalled with her chin. ‘Up above here. Coralie’s making up the bed for her. Show her that her bathroom’s next door.’

  Rafael picked up Lucia and carried her off upstairs. Susan looked after him, thoughtfully. She could tell he was worried. Had he got himself involved in some slightly dodgy deal she wouldn’t like to hear about? No, surely not! He’d promised her faithfully that he wouldn’t do that again. And yet, and yet … he was definitely fretting about something. Perhaps he knew something about Evan’s death that she didn’t?

  Susan gave Fifi another biscuit to crumble and put juice in her lidded cup. That would keep her quiet while she fed the others. The bowls of porridge were made and disappeared, plus half a banana each. Jenny was wide awake but Evan seemed only half aware of what was going on.

  Susan foraged in the freezer for adult food. She’d baked and brought over quite a few things from their temporary quarters in the bachelor flat. There should be a large cottage pie in the freezer. Yes, that might do.

  She made up her mind that Rafael was not going to tell her what was worrying him until the children were in bed. Yes, that would be it.

  Rafael reappeared. ‘I put Lucia into the bed and she crashed out, straight away. There’s no curtains or blind at the window, but I don’t suppose she cares.’

  Susan reflected that there wasn’t a bedside light, either. They had brought over some such bits and pieces from the flats with them, but they would still be in the packing cases, somewhere. And they’d thought of getting new curtains for that room, hadn’t they? Well, Lucia needed sleep more than a bedside light.

  More milk for the littlies. Bread with peanut butter on it for Jenny who, still attached to her long-eared rabbit, managed to get on to Rafael’s knee to be fed. She was like a fledgling bird, opening her mouth to receive food and making no effort to feed herself.

  Evan pushed his empty plate away from him and shook his head. He was done. And then, finally, so was Jenny.

  Susan made an executive decision: Evan had just been bathed, and she wasn’t going to bother giving Jenny a bath that night.

  Coralie reappeared to help Susan disinter some pyjamas for Jenny from the bags Diana had left, give her a change of nappy and carry her upstairs to sleep in Fifi’s cot in the back bedroom.

  Meanwhile Susan checked on Evan. Mouth and hands were wiped clean. Bottom was checked. He was more or less out of it, moving like a rag doll. She handed him over to Coralie to take upstairs. The double bed would be far too big for the little boy, but Susan couldn’t think where else to put him. He was too big to go in the cot, and anyway, Jenny would have to sleep in that even though she was getting too big for it.

  Now to feed the adults, and perhaps there would be a moment to ask Rafael what was troubling him? Back to the freezer. Vegetables were needed and yes, an apple pie. The microwave pinged.

  Susan put food in front of Rafael and Coralie. The latter said her father was off duty now, so she’d ask him to come and collect her in half an hour or so.

  Susan’s mind was on Fifi, who was overdue her last feed of the day, but she remembered her manners long enough to say, ‘Coralie, you’re wonderful. I couldn’t have managed without you. How long is it before you leave school? You know just how to handle children.’

  ‘You want me to help tomorrow? It’s Saturday. I’m free.’ She tucked into her cottage pie with zest.

  Susan plucked Fifi from her highchair and found herself saying, ‘Praise the Lord,’ just as dear Ellie would have done.

  At last, at last: Susan coul
d feed Fifi. She lifted her baby on to her breast, and sat down, closing her eyes. Susan was worn out. Her kitchen was a war zone. When had she eaten last?

  But what was this? Fifi was flailing away, not sucking.

  Oh. My. Had her milk dried up?

  Oh, no!

  It was not surprising under the circumstances, but Susan felt bereft. It was as if her only reason for being in this world had suddenly been removed. She wanted to cry.

  She scolded herself. Pull yourself together, girl! She tried for a smile as she cuddled Fifi for a moment before handing her over to Rafael, who continued to eat, one-handed. She said, ‘Looks like little one is growing up. I’ll have to find something else suitable for her now. She can sleep in the baby buggy. We can take it off its frame and carry it up to the nursery later.’

  Susan felt dizzy. She tried to stand and failed to do so.

  And the phone rang.

  And the doorbell. Susan turned to look out of the kitchen window, which didn’t have a blind on yet. Even from where she sat, she recognized a visitor who was not going to go away.

  It was her aunt Lesley – Detective Inspector Millburn, to give her her full name – at the door. Fair-haired, late thirties, solid-boned. She was alone. Not backed by Social Services. And, she was flaming mad!

  Coralie said, round a mouthful of pie, ‘Shall I answer it?’

  Susan shook her head. She forced herself off her stool to let Lesley into the hall.

  It was still raining, though slackening off. Lesley shook out her umbrella as she stepped into the hall and looked into the kitchen. ‘Don’t you ever answer the phone?’ Then spotting Coralie, she said, ‘Ah, there she is! Why didn’t you let me know that you’d got the girl here? Well, at last I can take her statement!’

  FOUR

  Friday evening

  Susan said, ‘I’m hearing things. Coralie, this is Inspector Millburn from the local police station. Lesley, what do you want with Coralie?’

  ‘She needs to answer some questions about Evan’s death.’

  Coralie’s mouth dropped open.