Cry for Kit Page 9
If one were to search for a fault, it might be in the design of the house itself, which was of a period not much to my taste. It had been built, the Alderman told me, on the site of a much earlier house by a distinguished architect of the nineteen-twenties, and to my mind it suggested a ship, rather than a home. It was a two-storied affair, painted white, with single-storey extensions set in an arc to enclose a terrace which was paved with multi-coloured slabs. The principal bedrooms and the reception-rooms looked out over the terrace, down the smooth lawns to the lake, and you could drift into the long sitting-room from the terrace by the ranks of french windows.
If the weather had turned inclement, the Alderman said, there had been plans to erect a marquee on the terrace, but since this had proved unnecessary, a simple striped awning had been hung over it to provide a focal point for the party. Two bands, or rather one conventional dance band and one rock group, played alternately on the terrace, where couples danced, Drinks and a good-looking buffet were being dispensed from stalls which were set on the lawn in rows to resemble an old-fashioned market place; cold meats here, fish next to it, soup further on, etc. Log tables and benches were grouped under the ancient cedars for those who wished to sit and eat in civilised fashion.
The swimming pool was also floodlit, and in the changing-rooms beyond there were shelves of swim-wear and towels, waiting to be borrowed by the energetic. A hot-dog stall drew a crowd beside the pool, and beyond it there were tennis courts—now empty vegetable gardens and greenhouses. A path led round the edge of the lake, and guests sauntered along it, whispering, giggling, playing hide and seek in a fairy-tale wood strung with lanterns. The brilliant clothes of the guests contributed to the beauty of the scene; even I, in my outrageously expensive lace, was only one bright star among many. On the lake a flotilla of brightly painted punts and row-boats, each equipped with its own lantern, scattered laughter and drops of water on each other. Down by the boat-house a lifeguard paraded, in front of the barbecue. White-hatted chefs carved enormous joints, sucking-pigs turned on spits, there were rumours that a famous rock star would perform...
‘The fireworks are scheduled for a quarter-past twelve,’ said the Alderman, ‘after the cabaret, or whatever they call it nowadays. Yowling and howling, if you ask me, but that’s what Piers wants. Everyone should be gathered over on the house side of the lake by that time. We ask everyone to douse the lights on the lake at midnight. The fireworks have been set up on the opposite side, so that we will get a good reflection in the lake. Edward and Amy have been months planning this party.’
‘I can imagine. Isn’t it time I was leaving?’
‘I’ll get you a drink first. Not on the terrace, it’s too crowded. Come this way.’
There must have been five hundred people in the grounds already, but more were still arriving. The reception line was outside the front door, below the gardener’s cottage. James Coulster had avoided the front door, and taken me into the house the back way, so that I had not yet had a chance to meet either my host or hostess. I hadn’t complained, because as soon as I’d arrived I knew I didn’t really want to see Edward again. The Alderman had been waiting to greet me, and had taken me over the house and grounds, talking in such a courteous fashion that I was unable to disentangle myself.
A man of sixty or so, with compressed lips over a decided chin, he held my arm throughout, even when we met people I knew. So I had merely exchanged a couple of words with a surprised Con, and nodded at Jack. I was pleased to see that he had his brown-haired Hazel on his arm, and that neither of them cared that she topped him by a good inch. I saw Morton and nodded at him; Paul and Joan...I identified Piers by his likeness to his father; he was dancing on the terrace and too busy to stop to talk to us.
‘This is Amy’s sanctum.’ The Alderman showed me down a short passage at the back of the house into a dark little room fitted out as an office. A tray of drinks was set on the desk, together with a plate of tiny sandwiches. ‘What would you like? Amy will be popping in here soon to say hello. She said you might like a drink and a bite to eat before you went off.’
‘Brandy, please. I am looking forward to having a chat with Amy; especially as I think she has appropriated something of mine.’
‘As you had appropriated something of hers.’ His tone was so gentle that I wondered if I had understood him correctly. He nodded, handing me my drink. ‘The Coulsters know how to hold on to their own.’
‘As you did when Edward tried to break free of Amy before they were married?’
‘Just so. We had a considerable financial investment in that young man, which he has repaid, as was only right. Apart from his fixation about you, he has justified Amy’s decision to marry him. The dividends from the Mills have never been so high. A great pity that he has to go—we shall find it extremely difficult to replace him.’
‘Surely, the question doesn’t arise?’ I gulped down the brandy and took a couple of sandwiches, to take the taste away. The Coulsters may have spent a small fortune on their party, but their brandy was not good. ‘I’m leaving, and according to your son, Edward has already returned to Amy.’
‘Another drink, while we’re waiting for Amy?’
‘Could you open a window? It’s very hot in here.’ My head felt strange...suffused...the ceiling was becoming darker and wavering at the corners...
The Alderman’s face peered at me, close to, frightening me. I heard my glass drop on to the floor, but when I groped for it, I lost my balance and had to clutch at a chair to prevent myself from falling.
‘Doped!’ I enunciated the word with care. He caught me in his arms and helped me on to the chair.
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘What harm have I done you?’
‘Money, my dear. We can’t possibly let Edward take all his money out of the family, apart from the insult to Amy.’
I screamed. At least, I tried to do so, but the sound I made was more like something produced from a tin whistle than the throat of a fully-grown woman. The door opened and through a thickening mist I saw Amy enter, followed by a thin, dark man. The man who had followed me in his blue Mini earlier in the day.
‘But...why?’ I asked. ‘I’m leaving tonight.’
‘Too late,’ she said. ‘I told you to be out of town by ten, or you’d die, and that’s just what’s going to happen. You’re going to die!’
CHAPTER FIVE
I had thought I would be quite safe at White Wings because so many people I knew would be there. In a crowd, at a party, surely nothing could happen to me.
But it was happening. I fought sleep, weaving in and out of consciousness. I was sitting in a chair with my wrists held by the two men, steadying me...I started awake, feeling frightened, but they were only binding something soft round my wrists, bandaging them. Then someone was at my feet on the floor, crossing my ankles. I tried to rise and discovered that my ankles would not part. I was pressed back on to my chair, my wrists placed behind me, crossed, and held there. I could hear someone panting...it was me.
My head drooped forward. I was going to fall forward on to the carpet...I was caught round the shoulders and held upright. I was grateful for that.
Something cold stung my face. I got my eyes open and blinked at Amy, who was standing before me holding a siphon of soda water. The two men had disappeared. Once more I tried to get up, but found I couldn’t move. A pair of nylon stockings had been knotted together to make a rope which bound my shoulders to the chair.
‘No bruises, no marks,’ said Amy.
‘But why? I sent Edward back to you. I told him I wouldn’t have him. I was going to catch a train early this evening.’
She picked up my evening bag and opened it. She was wearing long gloves.
‘Of course I know it was you who followed me from the hotel last night. You were wearing a dark dress, and you are the right height. You took the coat from the hotel to put over your shoulders and arms, which were bare; the coat covered up your jewels and helped camouflage you.’
‘But when you saw that the light was missing in the alley, and that you could use one of the pipes for a weapon, you couldn’t pass up the chance of disposing of me, is that right?’
‘I intended to frighten you, merely. At that time I was angry with Edward, but it did not seem to me that the situation was irredeemable.’ She picked out my powder compact, put it in her own handbag, and threw mine on my lap.
‘It was you who took my bracelet. You returned the charms to their original owners, and to me, by way of reinforcing your threats, but you kept the bracelet itself, and the charm which Edward gave me. What have you done with them?’
She unlocked a drawer in her desk and withdrew the bracelet with the gold heart still clinging to it. She knelt down behind me, and I could feel her fingers busy at my wrist, fastening the bracelet above my bonds.
‘I don’t understand you,’ I said, fighting sleep. ‘You have a lover. Why don’t you let Edward go? You don’t love him.’
‘I bought him. He is mine. He was nothing when I selected him. I made him what he is, and he has been a credit to me in some ways. No one else had precisely that combination of looks and ability which I was looking for. He was penniless, and I gave him everything he wanted. He has never been grateful enough. He has always set his will against mine, over Piers’ upbringing, and altering the grounds here, though of course I would not let him touch the house; then filling the place at weekends with his motley collection of friends, and insisting on our inviting people who are a handicap to us socially, like that mechanic, Mayhew; squandering his time at that breeding-ground for criminals which he calls a Boys’ Club; disappointing me over our projected tour of the West Indies solely because his sister-in-law had died and that snivelling brother of his made himself ill with grief; bringing that smelly dog into the house; he even had the nerve to oppose my wish to make Piers a director on his birthday...’
‘You never loved him, then. You couldn’t talk like that if you did. You tricked him, fooled him right from the start. You told him you were pregnant in order to get him to marry you when he wanted to break off the engagement...’
‘I believed I was pregnant at the time. It was only after we were married that I discovered that I wasn’t.’
‘It was you, and not Edward’s father who intercepted my letter, and it was you who sent me that cruel reply...’
‘With the money. Don’t forget the money! Yes, I admit I took the opportunity to get you out of the way. If you’d stayed in town, he might have been tempted to make you his mistress later on, and I wasn’t going to stand for that. Even then, it was tough going, breaking him in. He used to go on about values, and different life styles, and want to live without servants in a smaller house...I told him that if he didn’t know what was due to a Coulster, I did, and he’d have to maintain me in the style to which I was accustomed, or else...It was sheer bad luck he discovered your letter. I knew I ought to have burned it, but I had had some idea it might come in handy one day, to use against him if he got too far out of hand. He was too valuable for us to lose by that time, of course, so we had to agree to his terms.’
‘That’s when he left you before! How long was that after I’d gone?’
‘Piers was three. I had to send him down to the hotel to beg his father to come back in order to get Edward in a reasonable frame of mind. That cost us a packet, that little error of judgement—we had to give him a block of shares in the Mills and the freehold of this place. But I made sure he paid for it, over the years, and every time I’ve thought of your boy at the State school, and compared what he had to what my son had...’
‘You knew that Johnny was still living here? And you didn’t tell Edward?’
‘Correct. I made it my business to find out everything I could about the Blakes and I’ve always kept my eye on the boy. It was I who arranged for him to meet the Ferguson boy last year, so that I could keep tabs on him, and it was I who arranged for him to be invited here tonight.’
She frightened me. ‘Let me go. I have a train to catch.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’ She took off one of my emerald earrings and dropped it in her handbag. ‘You’ve caught your last train. In a moment or two Lewis will be back and you will be going on your last journey, down to the cellar. Do you know about our cellar? It was part of the house that originally stood here, years ago; it is very damp and sometimes it floods. It’s ankle-deep in water already. The lake is fed by springs in the slopes around it, and one of the springs runs right under the cellar. Edward had the course of the spring diverted when we put in the sprinkler system for the garden, but it’s very easy to send the water back under the house; all you have to do is turn a wheel on a valve set in the wall at the back of the house. Lewis understands these matters, luckily. I’m afraid, my dear, that you are going to get very wet.’
I tried to scream. She gagged me with another stocking.
‘No marks,’ she said. ‘We’re going to take you down to the cellar and tie you up so that the rising water will drown you. You mustn’t drown too soon, or they may be able to trace the drug we used to subdue you. In a couple of hours, say. You will be drowned without a mark on your bodies. The cellar will probably fill to the ceiling, because the outlet has been blocked up, but don’t worry about the house being damaged. At the right moment Lewis will turn the water back into the sprinkler system and free the blocked drain so that we can recover your bodies. In the early hours of the morning, when everyone else has gone, we will take your bodies down to the lake and drop you in. An overturned punt nearby...a boating tragedy...so sad, such a terrible aftermath to such a marvellous party, but everyone will say it was probably a good thing, because it was obvious that you and Edward were running off together, and that would never do, would it? Yes, that’s why I have taken your compact and your earring. I am going to leave them in Edward’s bedroom, together with the wrap you wore on your arrival. I am going to disarrange the bed, make a mess in the bathroom, and altogether give the impression that you and Edward stole off to make love in his bedroom during the party, and afterwards ran away together, going across the lake because Edward had left his Rolls, with his luggage and yours in the boot, on the far side of the wood. There’ll be a scandal, of course, but it will be hushed up for the sake of the grieving widow—that’s me! The time, the place, everything is right. Edward was talking today of making a new will in your bastard’s favour; well, I’ve put a stop to that, too. He may not have much voting stock, but he’s acquired a large number of ordinary shares over a period of years, and I don’t see why they should go out of the family. Edward and I made wills in each other’s favour when we got married, and if he dies tonight, all his money, this house and his shares will return to the Coulsters, where they belong.’
I tried to cry out, but only made a mewing noise.
‘Neither James nor my father will help you, needless to say. When danger threatens, the Coulsters stick together. I only had to go to Father last night and tell him that Edward wanted to leave me, for him to offer his aid. As for Lewis, I do not intend to marry him when I am free; he is well enough on his way, but no substitute for Edward as a business man. Lewis will have the lease of a second shop bought for him, and be thankful. He’s done well, hasn’t he? He’s been shadowing you all day, and you never knew. He handed over to my chauffeur this afternoon while you were at the tennis match, in order to help with our little arrangement in the cellar, but otherwise he’s been at your shoulder for nearly twelve hours, poor boy. Not that we can rest when we have you safely down in the cellar, for there will be Johnny to bring down after you, and then Edward. I think we’ll have Johnny found in a different part of the lake from you and Edward; no need for your names to be linked. Your sister will inherit your money to compensate her for the boy’s loss. All my anxieties disposed of at one stroke! You must admit, it’s an admirable scheme!’
The door opened
and Lewis came in. She held the door open while he released me from the chair and, throwing me over his shoulder, fireman style, he carried me out of the room. We were in a dark corridor. I tried to kick, but he held me tightly, and anyway there was no one around to see us. Through a door and down some steps we went. I was dumped on to another chair. I fell off, and flopped about on the floor.
‘She’ll bruise herself,’ said Amy anxiously. She was locking the door which led into the corridor.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Lewis. He had taken off his shoes, and was donning a pair of fishermen’s boots. We were in a semi-basement room, a larder whose shelves were filled with jam-jars, tins and cleaning materials. The floor was of stone flags and in one corner there were some steps cut deeper into the earth, ending in another door. Amy went down these steps and drew back the bolts on the door; they were new bolts, and the door was of oak, a good two inches thick. She pressed a switch on the wall beside her, and a dim light showed me a cellar within.
Lewis picked me up, and cursed because he had dropped my handbag. Amy rescued it and stuffed it into his pocket. Gingerly negotiating the steps and low doorway, he descended into the cellar with me on his shoulder. Swirling waters covered the floor and lapped his ankles. The cellar was large and inadequately lit by one naked bulb dangling from a wire which could be hooked on to fitments at different parts of the ceiling. The roof was supported by brick pillars, and though the walls had been white-washed once, they were now dingy and the brickwork was showing through in many places. There was the usual assortment of rubbish that accumulates in the cellar of a big house over the generations; a hideous Victorian sideboard, a pair of wooden-framed bunks, a pile of planks which had probably been used for decorating at some time, empty wine racks, broken chairs; and the body of a large dog. Crisp, Edward’s much-loved pet.
Lewis threw me face down on to the straw pallet of the bottom bunk. He put his knee in the small of my back, undid the bonds which held my wrists together behind me, and, twisting wire around each bandaged wrist, he secured me to the uprights of the bed. Then, tugging at my ankles, he pulled me flat and secured my bound feet to the foot of the bunk. I couldn’t move. I tried, and the effort wore me out.