Monday afternoon
Bea thought Evie needed time to think. When the girl had arrived, she’d been doped to the eyeballs. She seemed to have stopped the medication of her own accord and a new personality was emerging from the old. She was no longer parroting the Trescott party line every time she opened her mouth but it was still there, embedded in her brain, fighting with the new ideas she’d come across since moving into Bea’s orbit. It was no wonder the girl was confused.
Bea said, ‘Come on, girls. Let’s have a cuppa and a sit down. If Evie wants to talk, she will. If not, not.’
‘I do want to. I do.’ Evie wrung her hands. ‘But you won’t believe me. No one does.’
Bernice turned Evie round and pushed her into the kitchen. ‘Try us. You can have tea, mind. But no cake. You’re on a diet from now on.’
Bea made tea, and they sat round the central unit.
Evie wept a little. She made a couple of attempts to speak and failed.
Bea said, ‘Evie, we do understand that you must miss your father and mother terribly. Tragic. But what about this third death in the family? Can you bear to tell us how your uncle Constant came to take an overdose? You said there was some kind of scene at supper the night before?’
‘Yes, he was cross with me for making supper late, and then he read out my school report and of course it was awful and he said I was a disgrace and he couldn’t think why I’d been sent to such an expensive school and I tried not to listen because he was going on and on, and then the others joined in and yes, I did get upset.’
‘You kicked the table and shouted.’
A wince. ‘I did kick the table, but I didn’t shout. They did. All of them. I didn’t even finish my supper but went off to bed early.’
‘You didn’t see your uncle again that night? He didn’t come in to talk to you later?’
‘No. Not that I know about. But …’ Her chin wobbled. ‘Maybe I just don’t remember. That does happen with epileptics, doesn’t it?’
‘Are you really an epileptic?’ asked Bernice. ‘I haven’t noticed you having a fit.’
A shudder. ‘There’s no other explanation, is there? It’s why they’re all so worried about me, making sure I’m safe and looked after.’
Or someone wants you to think it. In which case … no, I really don’t want to go down that road.
Evie said, ‘I’m a bad girl. I was tailing off my medication the last week at school and I haven’t taken any since Saturday. I ought to take double tonight and go to bed straight after supper, or I’ll be ill again and have to go back to the clinic.’
Now she’s back in Trescott mode. I can hear her aunt saying those very words.
Bea was brisk. ‘I think you’re perfectly all right, Evie. If you decide to take a pill so that you don’t have a fit, then that’s what you should do. Do you know what to look out for, if you feel a fit coming on?’
‘No, I don’t get any warning. It just happens.’
‘How often?’ said Bernice. ‘The head asked me to look out for you going all weird, but I didn’t notice anything in particular.’
‘It’s only happened twice that I know about, but they tell me there have been other times that I don’t remember.’ She drooped. ‘I’m awfully tired. Do you mind if I go upstairs and rest for a bit?’
‘Of course.’ The girl disappeared and Bea started clearing the table. Bernice made no move to help but sat there, stroking Winston who had arrived from nowhere, hoping for a titbit or two.
Bea said, ‘Bernice, do you want to go after Evie? Will she be all right on her own?’
Bernice heaved a great sigh. ‘Bea, would those pills stop her having periods? I asked her if her period was due because Mrs Long Nose hadn’t packed anything for her, but she looked at me as if I were crazy. Apparently she hasn’t started yet.’
‘It happens to some girls,’ said Bea. ‘They don’t start till much later. Yes, the pills may have slowed down her development.’
‘I suppose that’s why she’s not interested in boys. Did you see, when Joshua put his arm around her, she went all stiff?’
Bea would have gone into this further, but at that moment a key turned in the lock of the front door and Piers walked into the kitchen, wearing a horrendous scowl.
One look at him, and Bea slid off her stool. ‘What’s up?’
‘Don’t ask. I’m in a foul temper. I was going to drown my sorrows in drink but came straight home instead.’
He came straight home? He considers this his home? Yes, of course he does. He hasn’t any other.
Piers took Evie’s place at the table. ‘Anyone got a cyanide pill handy? Or a gun? Not that I know how to fire one. If I tried to kill someone, I’d probably miss. And if I took a cyanide pill it probably wouldn’t kill me but give me the runs instead.’
Bea put the kettle on. ‘Coffee coming up. I assume your meeting with your agent didn’t go well?’
‘He thinks I should be pleased to forgo my summer holiday in order to paint the Trescotts. He can’t understand why I should even think of turning down their very kind offer, which is for double my usual fee, you understand. And that, if you haven’t worked it out already, means my agent gets double his fee as well. I could spit!’
Bernice looked worried. ‘Hang about. You promised you’d keep the holidays free so that we could go to France and stuff.’
‘You really think I’d turn down spending quality time with the two women in my life for a fistful of dollars? No way.’
The two women in his life? Bernice and Bea?
Bernice was puzzled. ‘But can you afford to turn work down? I thought that being freelance meant you had to take what you could. I mean, you don’t even have a flat of your own or a car.’
‘Sweetheart,’ said Piers, ‘I have never found a place in which I wanted to settle after Bea threw me out, and I have never wanted the bother of owning a car in London, which is almost totally gridlocked seven days a week. I have an excellent accountant and stockbroker, and if I never get another commission – which is what my agent has threatened me with – then I shall retire happily on the pension I’ve been paying into for donkey’s years. I’ll sit in the sun and doodle on scraps of paper and I’ll still have enough to take you two to the ball or wherever else you wish to go.’
Bea put a mug of strong black coffee in front of Piers. She placed her arm around his shoulders in a rare gesture of affection. ‘Your agent tried to pressure you into agreeing the Trescotts’ terms?’
He managed a grin. ‘He almost wept when I refused to give up my holiday to paint them. He hinted that people don’t cross the Trescotts and live to tell the tale. I said that in that case I was a dead man walking, which he didn’t find amusing. He said he personally would sue me if I didn’t do as I was told, so I pointed out that I’d included a clause in my contract which gave me the right to pick and choose my commissions.
‘He asked if I wanted to break our contract and I said, “No, of course not”. I was going to say “Yes”, but fortunately I remembered just in time that if I did that, I’d have to pay him a whacking great fee. I reminded him that he could break the contract if he wished, but then he’d have to pay me said fee instead. I’m a hard-headed businessman, I am.’
Bernice inched her stool nearer to Piers, and put her arm around his waist, so that the three of them were linked. ‘I wish I’d been there to hear you. So, did he sack you?’
‘He said he’d have to consult his client. I said that was fine, and I’d go down the road for a coffee while he did so. I’d no sooner taken my first sip than he joined me, trying out the old hearts and flowers approach. Would I please reconsider, because his office is in a building owned by the Trescotts through some multi-national corporation. When he’d phoned Cyril Trescott to say I wasn’t playing ball, Cyril had reminded him of this inconvenient fact. The poor man could see his rent doubling overnight, or his lease being terminated. So would I please, just for once, etc.
‘I kept my temper. With an effort. I said that I regretted I was unable to accommodate him. I said I looked forward to our next meeting when we could rough out dates for the commissions I do wish to accept. I’ve had plenty of offers for the next two years already. I thought he’d have apoplexy. He wanted to tell me to get lost but common sense prevailed and informed him that he couldn’t do that, either. Sacking me meant he’d be even more out of pocket. I am sorry for him. A little. But I’m also feeling somewhat uneasy as to what happens next.’
Bernice said, ‘But what could happen? You’ve said no. They tried to make you change your mind and failed. So they’ll have to accept what you say.’
Piers was calming down. He sipped coffee with appreciation. ‘First the velvet glove. The charm, the smiles, the offers of money from an unlimited purse. If that doesn’t work, they hint at the power they have to crush you like an ant. Unfortunately for them I have no hostages to fortune, except for you two.’
Bea cut him a slice of heavy fruit cake and added a wedge of Wensleydale cheese, a combination he particularly liked.
He took a large mouthful of each and relaxed. Almost smiled. He said, ‘I suppose we’re all vulnerable to a certain extent. I am uneasily aware that I have annoyed a man who isn’t used to being denied whatever he wants. I looked him up on the internet last night. An interesting face. I wouldn’t mind painting him some day, though I don’t know that he’d be pleased with what I might come up with.’
‘Mmm,’ said Bea. ‘Having met him myself, I tend to agree. You wouldn’t like him. And, I think you’re right about the way the Trescotts work. Mrs Trescott was slightly condescending to me at first, as if I were an acquaintance who might be useful one day, though of course not of equal standing to her. When she needed me to take Evie out of circulation, she clicked over into imperious mode, ordering me to look after the girl without so much as a please or a thank you. There was an underlying assumption that I should be delighted to fall in with her wishes. When I said it wasn’t suitable for Bernice to attend an adult party, she brought in the Silver Fox, Cyril Trescott, to persuade me to do as she wished. He was ultra-charming on the surface but equally sure I’d fall in with his wishes. But, as I didn’t do so he added a nice touch or two of his own. He insinuated I wasn’t savvy enough to steer Bernice through to adulthood, and that I should retire to the country and let her get on with life in the fast lane. He even suggested he might buy my little house for his secretary.’
Bernice protested, ‘But this house is just right for us and you don’t want to retire yet, do you?’
‘No, I don’t want to sell up and retire. Far from it. So what will they think of next?’
The landline phone rang, and Bea answered it. It was Betty, her office manager from the agency downstairs. Betty was not exactly in a panic but did need some advice. A problem had arisen with a placement that had gone wrong. The client was a valued client, so could Bea find a few minutes to sort everyone out?
Bea pushed the Trescotts and their problems to the back of her mind and went down to deal with the crisis.
Only when the agency closed for the day was Bea was able to relax; whereupon all her hopes and fears for Evie came flooding back. Bea told herself she was imagining things. And yet …
Cyril Trescott had said that Evie was a fantasist. Bea had seen no evidence for it. According to Evie’s own account, she’d been a normal, bright teenager until at fourteen – the age which Bernice was at now – her parents had been killed in a shocking accident and she’d been hospitalized. A long convalescence had followed in which she’d been taking strong medication. Unsatisfactory attendance at two schools had followed. Then she’d woken up one morning to find her uncle dead … and suffered a relapse. Bea thought that if you put that all down on paper and looked at it, then it made sense.
Evie was a fragile youngster with big prospects. She was going to become engaged to her cousin, so that he might look after her. The parallels with Bernice’s fragile mother were obvious. Families looked after their own.
Evie would sign whatever her family wanted her to sign. After marriage her future – and her money – would continue to be controlled by the Trescotts. That all made sense. Surely her family was right to take care of her in the way they thought best?
The Trescotts had now turned their attention to Bernice. Why? What would the Trescotts have to gain by courting a fourteen-year-old? Bernice was far too young to marry. Even if Benjy fancied her, surely he wouldn’t wait two years for a bride. Would he?
Bea had every right – in fact, she was duty-bound – to look after Bernice to the best of her ability. Which she would do. As for Evie, Bea told herself that the Trescotts knew exactly what they were doing and she, Bea Abbot, had absolutely no right to interfere. Indeed, how could she interfere, even if she had wished to do so? How could she, a middle-aged widow who ran a domestic agency, protect somebody else’s child from predators? If in fact they really were predators and not kindly people looking after a fragile youngster?
Well, there was one thing Bea could do, and that was to talk things over with Leon.
She reached for the phone, and it rang. Marvellous to tell, it was Leon, trying to reach her. ‘Bea, are you free for supper tonight? I’ve a table booked for eight o’clock. I’ll send the car for you at half seven, shall I?’
‘Why, yes. I’m glad you rang, Leon. It would be good to talk. So much has—’
He clicked off. He was in a hurry, wasn’t he? Well, that’s what happened when you were a Captain of Industry. Still, they’d have time to talk over a meal tonight.
She blocked out of her mind that Leon might be thinking more of the possible millions he might make from the merger than of his great-niece’s welfare.
So, what should she wear? A little black dress? She didn’t feel like wearing black tonight. She had a rather good grey silk top, embroidered with pearls. That would do, teamed with her favourite black skirt over boots. Or was it too warm for boots? She did love boots. But no, perhaps not tonight. High heels it would have to be.
She would arrange for Piers to give the children pizza for supper.
Monday evening
The chauffeur-driven car arrived on the dot, with a message that Leon would meet her at the restaurant. The sounded fine, until Bea discovered the table had been booked for four and that she wouldn’t have him to herself. Another woman was already seated beside him, a sharp-faced blonde in a designer evening dress cut so low at the front that it gave Bea vertigo to look at it. April Trescott!
Leon was also wearing black tie. The two of them were going on to a function together?
Wha-a-a-t?
Leon half rose to meet her, and then sank back into his chair. ‘Bea, I think you’ve already met my friend April?’
April showed her teeth. ‘Delighted to meet you again so soon, Beatrice.’ She didn’t sound delighted. She sounded annoyed that someone who was so far her social inferior had dared to appear at her table. She looked Bea up and down. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t feel the need to dress up.’
She was sitting close to Leon, and hadn’t shifted when Bea arrived.
Bea manufactured a smile, thinking that April’s remark was putting her in her place, wasn’t it? What on earth was Leon playing at? Did he wink at her? No. He was far too busy patting April’s arm which was lying on the table next to his.
Leon petting a woman’s arm in public? He was not a touchy-feely person. He never had been. What was going on?
Bea seated herself where indicated and took her time to consider her opponent. Conclusion: April Trescott had spent a considerable amount of time and money in keeping herself trim. Hair, skin and bosom were not as nature intended. She wasn’t the type of woman Leon usually admired. Or was she? Bea was beginning to think she didn’t know anything about anyone.
Leon unfolded his napkin. ‘Well, Bea, we’re going on to a private do later, but I felt I must make an opportunity to see you as I’m off again tomorrow afternoon, back for the party.’
Bea tried to work out what this development meant. She hadn’t seen Leon with another woman before. He’d told her shortly after they met that he’d had a loving partner for many years, but there’d been no children and he’d not wanted another relationship after she died. Bea had always thought that he liked women, but not well enough to marry them.
April firmed her shoulder against Leon’s, and he didn’t recoil. April laid her left hand – on which several diamonds glistened – over Leon’s right. April was laying claim to him.
Bea felt as if she’d made a false step in the dark.
The waiter handed her the menu. She took it and then laid it down. Was Leon really involved with this woman? Was a relationship developing because of the projected merger? What did that mean for his relationship with Bea? Did it mean he wanted to cut his ties with his friends from the past?
‘Did you forget your glasses, Beatrice?’ asked April. ‘My grandmother couldn’t read the menu without glasses for years before she died.’
Was April Trescott wearing contact lenses? No, she’s had that op that means you don’t need glasses.
Bea said, ‘Leon knows what I like.’ She looked at Leon and saw, with a twinge of alarm, that he was looking tired. ‘Are you quite well, Leon? All this dashing around the universe.’
Leon opened his mouth to reply, but April got there first. ‘He’s had such a rough time, poor dear. I’m sure he doesn’t want to worry you with his little problem. We’re in the process of sorting it out, aren’t we, my love?’
My love? And he’s smiling back at her. In the old days he’d have cut her off at the knees. What’s going on here?
April summoned the waiter and ordered for herself – and for Leon. Bea ordered something simple for herself, telling herself that it wasn’t done to throw a tantrum and chuck the cutlery at another diner in public.
Leon removed his hand from under that of April’s and made a play of straightening his tie. ‘Well, Bea. You’re looking good, as ever. I’m glad you’ve seen sense and have persuaded Bernice to attend the party. As I told Cyril, you’ve always had plenty of common sense.’
How did he know Bernice had agreed to attend? Ah, Evie must have been on the phone to April. April has told Cyril, who has told Leon … and Leon is behaving totally unlike himself. What is the ‘little problem’ April was talking about? Leon’s not well? Is she feeding him some medication that …?
Oh. Oops. Like Evie? If that is so, what can I do about it?
Bea said, ‘You’re under the doctor, Leon? What’s the problem?’
April answered for him. ‘An allergy. Most unfortunate. We were having tea together and oh dear! It suddenly came over him. It’s so easy to pick these things up abroad, if you’re not careful. You don’t travel much, do you, Beatrice? I suppose you can’t when you have to scrape a living. You don’t mind my calling you Beatrice, do you? And you must call me April.’
Bea ignored that provocation to concentrate on Leon. ‘Leon, we need to talk about Bernice some time. If you’re in such haste tonight, perhaps you can ring me tomorrow?’
‘Well, I’m sort of in transit tomorrow. Meetings.’ He took out his phone and fumbled with it, frowning slightly. He didn’t seem to be able to find what he wanted on the screen.
‘Oh, don’t worry about business now,’ said April, taking his phone from him. ‘Beatrice must know how busy you are, and she won’t worry too much if she can’t speak to you tomorrow. Dear Beatrice, you must have so many calls on your time, too. Family and so on.’
With a touch of fake embarrassment, April added, ‘I didn’t mean you don’t have a wonderful relationship with your son and his wife, although I understand you haven’t seen them for quite some time. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t care. It’s difficult to find time for family when you’re so busy with work, isn’t it? I always say family comes first, but there … that’s the way I was brought up.’
Bea felt acid hit the back of her throat. This woman knew about Max and his wife and that they had not made time to see Bea for quite a while. Had April made friends with Max, too? Had Leon been telling her about them?
If April had got close to Leon, then what did that mean for Bea and Bernice?
The food came. Luckily Bea had chosen something light and fishy, which was easy to eat. She thought of Piers treating the girls to a pizza each, and wished she were back with them.
April was wearing diamond earrings. They glittered as she chattered on about the glories of Rome or Miami … or whatever. Bea lost track of the important names that were dropped. Leon ate a little, but not as if he enjoyed it. He refused wine and drank water. Well, if he was on some kind of medication, it wouldn’t be a good idea to drink wine.
April drank two glasses of wine.
Bea wondered if she could decently leave after the fish course. She could say Bernice was ill and needed her. No, she couldn’t. April would find out that was a lie because Evie would tell her the truth.
April gestured to the waiter to fill up Bea’s glass.
And then … Bea realized she ought to have foreseen it … Cyril Trescott, the Silver Fox, arrived at their table and put his arm on Bea’s shoulder. He said, ‘Ah, we meet again,’ in a warm tone, and took the fourth chair. The one beside Bea, hemming her in.
His hand on her shoulder had been heavy. He’d meant her to feel the weight of his hand, and to remind her of the power behind it.
He was smiling, but his eyes glittered, needle sharp. He had ceased to dismiss her as a pawn in the game. She guessed he’d been asking around about her. He must have discovered that she had a reputation as a shrewd businesswoman and that she was not the fluttery creature she’d pretended to be when he visited her at home. He was annoyed because he’d miscalculated earlier, and he was now going to take it out on her.
‘My very dear Beatrice.’ He continued to smile, but spoke softly … oh, so very softly … but the words came out through clenched teeth. Yes, he was pretending to do the social, but he was very angry.
She almost quailed. Then she stiffened her back and managed a smile. ‘Mr Trescott, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’
‘You should have done.’ Still smiling, he beckoned to the wine waiter. ‘Take that slop away and bring us something decent. Bring me …’ And he reeled off a name which Bea recognized as being the most expensive red on the wine list.
Bea looked a query at Leon. ‘Leon, you didn’t tell me you had invited Mr Trescott as well?’
Leon produced a shadow of his usual tight smile. ‘He thought it would be a lovely surprise. You two really must get to know one another better.’
Leon had betrayed her.
Bea wanted to remind Leon that she’d once saved his life, but the man sitting beside her was no longer the person she knew. She concluded that he’d sold out to the Trescotts for the sake of what … more money, more power? And sacrificed Bea and Bernice to get it?
She was on her own.
Still smiling, Cyril Trescott ignored the others to speak directly to Bea. ‘I understand my sister is taking Leon on to a private party, which gives us the opportunity to get to know one another better. We can go on somewhere quiet where we can talk.’
‘What a lovely idea, but I’ll take a rain check if I may. I promised my ward I wouldn’t be late home tonight.’
The wine waiter was about to pour her another glass of wine though the old glass sat almost untouched on the table. She reached out to prevent his doing so.
Cyril Trescott grasped her forearm and forced it down to the table. In that soft voice of his, so soft that no one but her could hear, he said, ‘I don’t take “no” for an answer.’ He was very, very determined. And let her feel it.
She refused to show pain but met his eye full on. She said in a normal voice, ‘Using force is no way to make friends with me. Release me, if you please.’