Cry for Kit Page 8

‘Who?’ The garage was empty except for the Hillman, so neither Jim nor the Fergusons were there.

  ‘Mrs Paul Barnes. The wife of one of our Members of Parliament. I shouldn’t take the mickey, really! She’s one of the best women drivers I’ve come across.’ He got out jerkily, and opened the bonnet of the car, saying he’d give me half an hour.

  I went up the drive because that was what I had come to do, but I didn’t have much enthusiasm for a talk with Sheila—especially with Joan Barnes listening in. The idea that Jim and Sheila might have combined to persecute me because of grudges that were now nineteen years old appealed less and less.

  And yet Sheila had cried that morning and Con seemed to think that I was at least partly to blame for her tears. If my presence had been hurting Fred’s chances of getting Sheila back, then perhaps I ought to see her, if only to assure her that I really was going.

  A slim teenager opened the door, biting at an apple.

  ‘Mum, it’s for you!’ she yelled, and from the depths of the house came the sound of heavy shoes descending an uncarpeted staircase. The teenager disappeared, leaving the door open. I stepped inside.

  I wouldn’t have recognised Sheila if I hadn’t been expecting to see her. She towered over me in a bright red jumper and modish grey slacks. She knew who I was all right. She had a pale skin and fine eyes; both began to register anger that I had dared to approach her in her sanctuary. The interview seemed likely to be as disastrous as had been the one with Mary.

  Before she could order me off the premises, Joan Barnes made an entrance down the stairs after her. Joan never walked into a room, but always Made an Entrance. She was the sort of person who could make a funny story out of the butcher’s having given her the wrong joint, and a drama out of a flat tyre.

  ‘Darling!’ she cried and, making a swooping pass at my left cheek with hers, she pressed her fingers around my shoulders and gave me a shake of welcome. She was acting the part of Hostess, but her gesture of friendship was meant to be taken at surface value.

  ‘Darling!’ she said again, feeling for a handkerchief. ‘Dammit, I am going to cry, and it always disturbs my contact lenses! Someone said you were only on a flying visit, but I said I didn’t believe it because you wouldn’t leave without coming to see me.’

  ‘Dear Joan!’ I said. ‘Thank you. I wish I could, but I’m leaving again tonight.’

  ‘Why don’t you telephone me tomorrow...bother this party tonight, or you could come back with me now for a good chat! Ring me, and we’ll arrange to meet somehow, either in London or New York. I was over in New York with Paul last year, but didn’t have your address.’ She put two fingers in her mouth, blew a porter’s whistle, and collected a handbag from a table nearby. Footsteps thundered down the stairs and a long-legged pair of boys raced an even longer-legged girl through the hall, and out of the front door.

  ‘Animals!’ remarked Joan. ‘Have you any children, Kit? However, they have to be fed and I have to change and find Paul’s cuff-links, so I’ll be off.’ She turned in the doorway to add, ‘Now behave, both of you!’

  She slammed the door behind her, and the house felt cold. No central heating on at this time of year, of course. Not in good old, chilly old England.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ Sheila was making a big effort to be polite.

  I had only had a couple of sandwiches for lunch, and a sip of tea since. I couldn’t face the thought of drink. ‘Might I have a cup of coffee, or tea?’

  She looked incredulous, but led the way upstairs to her own kitchen. Her kitchen was an improvement on Mary’s as far as equipment was concerned, but the atmosphere was just as icy. She asked if I’d like to wait in her sitting-room. I said I would rather talk to her, if I might.

  ‘News travels fast,’ I said. ‘How did Joan know I was leaving?’

  ‘Paul had lunch with Fred, who said you were running around telling some mad story about having been attacked. He told Joan, and Joan told me. If you came back solely to make trouble...’

  ‘But Fred didn’t know that I was leaving again so soon.’

  ‘Oh, Bet told me that. She rang after lunch to see if I wanted a lift to the party tonight. I told Joan when she came to collect her brood. We have a working arrangement to have each other’s children one afternoon a week in the holidays. They play tennis and swim and go to the pictures en bloc.’

  She slapped a cup of coffee on the table and pushed the sugar basin at me. I tried to analyse her attitude and came to the conclusion that now her initial impulse to anger had been dissipated by Joan, Sheila felt no more than an impersonal dislike for me. She was not projecting the hatred I would have expected to feel from someone who had attacked and persecuted me.

  ‘I didn’t see you at the hotel last night,’ I said, prolonging the conversation because I wanted time to drink my coffee.

  ‘I was there all right. I saw you. Fred tried to stage another of his scenes, so I left. Luckily I’d taken my own car, or I might have had to sit there and listen to him.’

  ‘Wasn’t Jim with you?’

  ‘Now who’s been talking? I was on my own. If you must know, and I suppose the news will be all over town soon, he’s left town. He got himself a good job in Manchester and gave up his room last week. I don’t expect to see a lot of him in the future.’

  ‘I thought I saw him today, driving around in a blue Mini.’

  ‘He sold his car last week, when he heard he was going. He gets a car with his new job, and he needed the cash to set himself up in a flat in Manchester. He sold the Mini to a friend of his—Bates, or some name like it. Cates? Bates, I think. I expect it was him you saw.’

  So out went Jim. Whoever it was who had followed me around, it hadn’t been Jim. She started to peel potatoes, throwing a glance out of the window now and then; her children were playing in the garden below. I decided that, like me, she was basically the maternal type who needed someone to look after. She didn’t make the best of herself, though. She wore next to no make-up, her hair was a mess, and the scarlet of her sweater didn’t suit her style.

  ‘Why did you come to see me?’

  ‘Because of Fred. I don’t wish him any harm, and I don’t like to think what the police will have to say to him. Someone has been trying to kill me. I was attacked last night, just after I saw Fred at the hotel. My bracelet was taken...the charm bracelet I always wore, you remember? Fred’s going around saying that he got his charm back through the letterbox this morning, but suppose he didn’t? Suppose it was he who attacked me? He had the opportunity and the means, and he was the only one of my old friends who didn’t welcome me back with open arms. He’s made it quite clear to me that he thinks I’m a threat to his hopes of being reconciled to you...’

  ‘What absolute nonsense!’ she cried. She was getting angry again.

  I knew it was nonsense, but it didn’t suit my plan to admit it. ‘I’m going to leave town tonight, but I’m going to ask the police to investigate Fred’s movements. Be sure that they will. Attempted murder and robbery with violence, accompanied by threats to kill me if I don’t leave town tonight...what do you think he’ll get for it? I don’t see why you’re getting so cross! Isn’t this going to be marvellous ammunition for you when it comes to a divorce? You’ll be able to get whatever you ask for in the way of alimony, and bar him from access to the children!’

  ‘You are crazy! He wouldn’t do a thing like that! What harm has he ever done to you...?’

  I picked up my handbag and went out on to the landing, where I had seen a telephone.

  ‘What’s Fred’s number?’ I asked her.

  She was actually wringing her hands. She told me. I dialled. ‘It’s either this or ring the police; we’ll get him over here and talk to him. He won’t confess to me, but he might talk to you.’ The telephonist at the estate agency put me through to Fred. ‘Fred, I’m at the Fergusons’ house, talking to Sheila. You’d better get over here, quick!’

  Fred’s voice quacked alarm.

  �
�At the double!’ I said. ‘All hell’s let loose here, and only you can sort it out.’

  I replaced the receiver without waiting for his reply, and hauled my weeping hostess into what I guessed to be her bedroom. I was right.

  ‘What are you doing? Let go of me!’

  ‘Haven’t you anything soft and frilly to wear? Not black or white, but something in a pastel shade...?’ I found a pretty housecoat which looked as if it had been a Christmas present. She went on objecting through her tears. while I got her changed, brushed her hair into a prettier style, and picked out a pretty lipstick for her to wear.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ I said, as she actually made a move to help herself by blotting her lips. ‘You’re not the type to let your man get away just because he made eyes at an au pair girl, are you? You’ve taught him a lesson he’ll never forget and now you’re prepared to take him back because he’s threatened by the police...You don’t believe he’s a villain, do you?’

  ‘He isn’t!’ she said. Her tears had stopped. Sheila’s timing was appallingly bad.

  ‘Try to keep the tears flowing,’ I begged her. ‘He’ll be here in a moment...’

  I disposed her in an armchair in her sitting-room, lowered the blinds so that the early evening sun did not make her squint, and ran. I was right on my deadline, and I didn’t want Dick Mayhew phoning the police. He was revving up the engine as I tore out of the house. I waved to him and cried that he should hold on just one more second, for I had seen another car speeding up the road, and I hoped it might be Fred. Luckily, it was.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he gasped. ‘Is Sheila all right? There hasn’t been an accident or anything, has there?’

  ‘Idiot!’ I told him. ‘Go straight up, into the sitting-room, and give her a big hug. I gave her a scare to make her realise she didn’t really want to let you go. Jim’s gone, and she’s all alone. Don’t argue with her, don’t attempt explanations...just be a bit physical.’

  ‘What?’

  I stepped into Dick’s car, waved goodbye and eased off my shoes.

  ‘No go?’ asked Dick.

  ‘It wasn’t Jim. Sheila knows nothing and cares less. I’m sorry to have dragged you all the way over here on a fool’s errand.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He sat straight, preening himself. I was amused to see that he was every bit as randy as his father had been, and that he was about to make a pass at me.

  ‘It’s a pity you’re going,’ he said. ‘Why not put it off till tomorrow, and let me show you the sights of the town tonight? I’m supposed to be going to this stuffy party with Dad, but there’ll be so many people there they’ll never miss me. How about it?’

  ‘That’s the nicest offer I’ve had for months. It takes years off my age! Thanks, Dick, but I really must catch that train. You go off to the party and drink a glass of wine to me; I’ll have supper on the train and return the compliment.’

  He was satisfied with that. We drove into the Square. I was thankful to see that the wreck of my car had been towed away. Dick helped me out of the car and went with me to the hotel steps, to make sure I would be safe, as he put it. I shook hands with him and went inside, checking my watch. I didn’t think I’d make the next train. Perhaps I could have a sandwich in the bar while I killed time for the one after it.

  ‘Letter for you, Mrs Neely,’ said the receptionist. ‘And a couple of phone calls. Also your bill, and we’ve got you a reservation for tonight at the Dorchester.’

  I paid my bill and went upstairs to finish my packing. Nothing had turned out as I had planned; I felt old and depressed. One of the phone messages was from Edward, but he hadn’t said anything about calling back. So that was that. By tomorrow I would be well out of his reach.

  I must not cry.

  The other phone message was from Jack, saying that he had taken my advice and been successful beyond his expectations. Dear Jack—I was delighted that he should have a second chance.

  The last envelope contained an expensive, embossed invitation from Mr and Mrs Edward Straker for their party that night, to celebrate the eighteenth birthday of their son Piers at White Wings. R.S.V.P. Someone had written on the back, ‘Do please come—my brother will call at the hotel to collect you!’ It couldn’t be genuine!

  Was someone having a joke at my expense? I tore the card across and then put the pieces together again. Did I, or did I not recognise the handwriting?

  The phone rang. The receptionist announced that Mr James Coulster had arrived, and was waiting for me in the bar. Amy’s brother, the one who hadn’t wanted to go into the works, thus creating a vacancy which Edward had been elected to fill.

  I couldn’t understand what was going on. If Amy had sent me the invitation...But why?

  I tore down the stairs. There were quite a few people in the bar, but I would have picked James out any time. He was as tall and as slim as Amy, his hair as curly, his face even longer and narrower. His eyes were restless and his forehead heavily lined. He looked as if he found life boring and as if he judged every man in terms of how much they were worth financially. I had seen him around once or twice in the old days, but he had never mixed with our set and never before acknowledged my existence. I seemed to remember that he spent most of his time sailing.

  He recognised me. His eyes added up the cost of my lizard-skin shoes and matching handbag, Paris rigout, my engagement ring and emerald earrings. His bow as he introduced himself and ushered me to a seat indicated that he accorded me respect as a moneyed woman. I would never be his equal, because I had not been born to the purple, but I was worth a minimum of courtesy.

  He switched on the charm. So sorry we’d never met before, better late than never, glad to have the opportunity before I left town again, and so on. Hoped I’d got the invitation from Amy, sorry about the short notice, hoped I’d spare the time to pop in on the party...

  ‘Yes, but...!’ I said.

  ‘Amy said I must be sure to get you there early.’ He looked at his watch. ‘My father, the Alderman, is to show you around. He couldn’t fetch you himself because he doesn’t drive at the moment. Heart condition, you know. Time for one small drink. What would you like?’

  ‘Mr Coulster, I have a train to catch...’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Have your drink, change, we’ll take your luggage with us, you spend a little time at the party and then we’ll get you to the station in time to catch the ten o’clock train.’

  ‘This is crazy! Why should you want me at your party?’

  ‘Edward and Amy seem to think it would be a good idea if you dropped in for a little while—kill the scandal, and all that.’ He lifted a finger at the barman, who produced a brandy and ginger for me. I needed the drink. I didn’t like to think of Edward and Amy discussing me behind my back.

  ‘Amy thought it would be best to show everybody that there was nothing in these stories that have been circulating today. Upset everybody properly, haven’t you? Jack and Fred and poor old Con and, of course, Edward. Amy said if you came to White Wings for an hour, and father showed you round as if you were an ordinary friend on a visit, and that you then went off to London in our car, the gossip would die down.’

  ‘But the gossip will die down as soon as I’ve gone, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that. All I know is that Edward and Amy asked me to pick you up and explain the situation to you. If you’ll drink up and change, I’ll get the porter to bring down your bags, and we’ll be off. I want to be back at White Wings before the rush.’

  ‘Edward is back with Amy? Is that what you are trying to say?’

  ‘Yes. I paid his bill and collected his baggage from the Dragon this afternoon. I don’t know what story he’s been telling you, but this isn’t the first time he’s had a tiff with my sister and gone off for a couple of days.’

  I tried not to cry. I stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar and willed myself not to cry. I would not show him how much I’d been hurt. Then anger came, and it se
emed to me that it would be an admirable thing to go to this party and show them all that I didn’t care.

  James was looking at his watch.

  ‘Can you be ready in five minutes?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’d like to come in some ways, but I promised Con I’d leave without causing any more trouble. Suppose I phone him, and ask his advice?’

  ‘I shouldn’t bother. He’ll be on his way there by now. You can see him at the party and explain. You’ll be under our protection for the evening. We’ll take care of you.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, but...’ I didn’t really want to risk seeing Edward again, for my own sake. Knowing that he’d not even waited for me to leave town before he returned to his wife had left a sour taste in my mouth.

  ‘Amy told me to tell you that she had come across something of yours that she would like to return to you. Something you lost last night, she said. Please, do come!’

  Click. I knew who had attacked me last night and why they had taken the coat from the hotel.

  Click. I knew why there had been no reply when I phoned White Wings later that evening.

  Click. I knew who had intercepted my letter telling Edward I was pregnant, years ago.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in all my life.

  ‘Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready.’

  *

  I consider myself something of a connoisseur on parties and houses, having sampled the most luxurious entertainments the States can offer in the way of hospitality, and owning three beautiful houses of my own which had all, at one time or another, been featured in magazines devoted to interior decoration. Yet in all my years of party-going, I had to acknowledge that the party the Strakers threw at White Wings that night took an Oscar. The fine weather helped, of course; it was a beautiful evening and still warm enough at nine o’clock to stroll around without wondering where you’d left your coat. There was no wind, which meant that the fairy lights strung in the trees all around the lake and clustering over the rose garden were reflected in the waters. The setting was perfect; a bowl of trees declining to a natural lake, framing the white house and floodlit lawns.