Tuesday afternoon
‘No,’ said Bernice. ‘It was Mac, Uncle Leon’s finance director at Hollands. Or rather, it was his chauffeur and Mac was in the back with me. We’d been talking about the possibility of Hollands merging with Trescotts. Mac says Uncle Leon had discussed it with him in general terms and that the idea has possibilities. He says Cyril Trescott is “a canny operator but perhaps not quite as sharp as he thinks he is”.’
Her mimicry of Mac’s dry tones was perfect.
Bea switched on the kettle. ‘What does Mac think of Leon’s present conduct?’
‘He said he hadn’t heard that Leon had been under the weather and assumed it wasn’t serious, but he fingered his smartphone as he said it, and I think he’ll check it out. I guessed it would be him who’d organize the digging into the Trescotts and the way the company worked, and he said yes, that he’d looked to see who the biggest shareholders might be and couldn’t see any particular problem.
‘I told him how Cyril and Leon were trying to push the two families into closer contact. I told him about Evie and the pills, and Benjy and Joshua and the Awful Aunt, and I could see he thought I was exaggerating. Then I told him that you’d hired Hari to look after me and he went all quiet on me. He seems to have a good opinion of you, Bea, and a high opinion of Hari.
‘Mac had arranged for Hari to have lunch in the canteen while he and I had a sandwich in his office but after he’d heard what I had to say Mac called Hari in, and asked what your instructions had been. Hari told him. Then Mac asked us to wait a while and disappeared to make some phone calls. When he returned, he said he’d arranged to see Uncle Leon this afternoon in the City and he’d drop us off on the way. I said that wasn’t necessary because Hari and I had come in a cab and would get another one back, but he insisted.
‘As we came along the road we could see Benjy outside the house talking to you and Evie. Mac said he’d like to see for himself how Benjy acted when he saw me. I had to admit to him then that Benjy did frighten me a bit. Hari said he’d see me safely in but Mac said that Benjy couldn’t do much to me in a street with everyone watching and it was a good idea to keep some crack troops in reserve in case they were needed later. He told Hari to stay in the car with him and they’d watch to see what happened next. If anything went wrong, Hari could leap out and come to my aid. If not, he’d drop Hari off at the corner and he could join us later. Hari agreed. I wasn’t sure I could cope but they both seemed to think I could, so I went along with it.’
She swallowed hard. ‘I wasn’t sure I could hit anyone that hard, but he was hurting me and I reacted without thinking. Then Mac got his chauffeur to drive on, dropping Hari off on the way. I’m not sorry I hit Benjy. And, I’m famished. I only had a couple of sandwiches for lunch and I could murder a burger.’
Bea made tea in the biggest pot she had while Piers toasted crumpets and found the butter.
Evie slid on to a stool next to Bernice. ‘Benjy frightens me, too. I think you were ever so brave.’
‘I’m not brave,’ said Bernice. ‘I’m still shaking. But I’ll live.’ She looked Evie over. ‘You look all right. Almost grown up.’
Evie managed a grin. ‘Thank you.’
Bernice turned on Piers, mock ferocious. ‘As for you, if you think I’m going to call you Daddy, or Pa, or Step-Dad or whatever, you’ve got another think coming.’
‘Brat,’ said Piers, without heat.
‘Tom Cat,’ she replied, with satisfaction.
They grinned at one another and did the high five thing.
Bernice turned back to Bea. ‘So, what are you going to wear for your wedding?’
‘I haven’t given it any thought,’ said Bea, who had actually spent some time thinking about it and come to the conclusion that she needed to go shopping again.
‘And me?’ said Bernice. ‘Can I wear my new dress, the one we bought for Evie’s birthday party?’
‘Yes,’ said Piers.
‘Too formal,’ said Bea at the same moment.
‘Good,’ said Bernice, ‘I like that dress. Can I have something besides crumpets? A pizza, perhaps? Or a burger?’
‘Help yourself,’ said Bea. ‘I’m out of here. I have some phone calls to make. Evie, you say your aunt was married for years until they got divorced and she reverted to her maiden name. Do you know why they went their separate ways?’
‘No, I don’t. There was a lot of talk behind closed doors and I asked what had happened and was told he’d behaved badly and I wasn’t to ask about it again.’
‘What was his name and where did he live?’
‘George Kent. Uncle George. I don’t know what he did wrong. He was ever so nice to me. He lived just outside Maidenhead. He had a garden centre which did some special kind of horticulture, trials for seed merchants, that sort of thing. He had acres of glass and poly tunnels and stuff. He grew plants for special events. I used to stay with him in the holidays and have fun with his niece who was a bit older than me, but an only child, too. I was sorry when I couldn’t go there anymore.’
Bea left them to their food and went downstairs to check that all was in order in the agency. Which it was. Betty said that Keith had strengthened their computer defences and taught Betty how to use them. He’d confirmed there were no listening bugs in the house. He’d tried the Trescott business computer and found it well defended but said that the two youngsters Benjy and Joshua had taken only minimal precautions to protect their online accounts, and that he’d printed off some information for Bea to look at if she so wished.
And she did so wish.
Joshua first. According to his various online accounts, he was a serious young man. There were lots of shots of him taken with groups of boys and girls at different stages of his university life: politics, of course, standing in student elections, debating societies, and so on; graduation in a mortar board and gown; wearing a rosette; campaigning for a local election in Surrey; campaigning again for another ditto.
There were the usual semi-funny messages to accompany the photos. No girls appeared more than once in the shots. He wasn’t into selfies. He was not seen with his brother in any of his activities. His political stance seemed to be mid-left of centre. He’d been hedging his bets as he climbed the ladder.
He gave the impression of being devoted to a career in politics but he lacked that spark which would have made him stand out from the ruck, and which carried people to the top.
Actually, he seemed rather dull. No wonder he needed Evie’s millions if he was going to make his mark in life.
Benjy, now. Girls, girls, and more girls. All very young, judging by their photos. Yachts. Speedway racing. A number of different expensive cars. Selfies and staged photos.
Where did he get the money from for his cars? The red monster he’d turned up in today must have cost a fortune for a start. He’d got a first at uni. Medieval History, not something which would commend you to the business tycoons today. Or was it? Perhaps a study of Machiavelli might be considered useful?
Benjy had wanted to run the Trescott company, hadn’t he? Ah, here was a nice photo of him standing at the shoulder of the burly man whom Bea recognized from his obituary portrait: Benjy’s uncle Tom, the one who looked like a Smythe. Evie’s father. So Benjy had indeed joined the firm at some point … yes, yes. But six months later and before Tom and his wife had died, Benjy was snapped being welcomed into a different, City trading company.
Why was that? Why hadn’t he stayed with Trescotts?
Perhaps he’d been learning the ropes here and there … yes, three months later he’s with another City firm … then holidaying in Cannes on a friend’s yacht, and then … and then … another non-job. He’d been coasting along doing an internship here or there.
Ah, now here he was back with the Trescotts, being welcomed back into the fold by Cyril, the Silver Fox himself.
Bea seemed to remember that hadn’t lasted either, had it? Wasn’t there something about Cyril suspending the boy for six months due to some bad behaviour at a Christmas do? But he was back with Trescotts again now, wasn’t he?
It would be good to know how well he really was doing. The phone call he’d received that day while waiting for Bernice had seemed to indicate that someone, somewhere, was not pleased with Benjy. Evie’s report on him indicated that Benjy was not being treated as the Golden Boy in the workplace, either.
Now, what about April, who’d produced Joshua and Benjy, these two paragons of society? There were no wedding photos of her marriage to George Kent. No divorce party, either. No blog.
Apparently life started after she’d divorced and returned home, and resumed the name of Trescott. From that time on there were a couple of photos of her with the Trescott family at different business functions. And that was that.
Bea accessed the internet to search for George Kent, divorced husband of April. She found a website devoted to an old, established company, which specialized in seeds and rare plants, internationally known, appearances at Chelsea Flower Show, Hampton Court and so on.
No family photographs. Early promotion material for the company included a shot of a rather beautiful Georgian house near Maidenhead, which looked well maintained. The family residence, presumably.
George Kent appeared in several professionally taken photographs. So this was the father of the Terrible Two? Fair of hair and complexion, but more like a burly Smythe than a fine-boned Trescott in build. He looked easy-going and yes, modest. Intelligent enough but not an intellectual. Not a Tricky Dicky.
Why on earth had this man married April Trescott? What on earth did they have in common? He hadn’t needed her money. His seed business seemed to have been started by his father, from whom he’d inherited … and then he’d expanded, and so on.
Bea sat back in her chair to think about why George Kent might have married April Trescott. Well, April had the good bone structure of all the Trescotts. She would have been considered a beauty in her younger days when she’d had a bit more fat on her bones. She was blonde and ‘county’, which brought kudos in some circles. Yes, in spite of her sharp manner – which might not have been so strident twenty-odd years ago – she must have seemed an attractive proposition.
Why had she married him? Perhaps to get away from home? She had inherited some Trescott money, hadn’t she? But there’d been no hint of a career. He was nice-looking and a neighbour; he had status in the community, and a beautiful house.
She’d probably thought she could manage him and maybe she had done so until … yes, what exactly had happened to break that marriage up and leave her with no alternative but to return home, penniless, with the two boys? Wouldn’t she have been entitled to decent alimony after all those years of marriage? Yet, from what Evie had said, April was short of money and it was the Trescotts who had finished putting the boys through university.
Piers tapped on the door and entered. ‘Joshua has just rung to say he’s bringing round some stuff for Evie and is that all right? He seems to think you might bar him entry.’
‘No, I wouldn’t mind a word with him,’ said Bea, frowning at her watch. ‘What are we having for supper and are the children all right?’
‘They’re playing at dressing-up. By which I mean that Bernice has hauled Evie upstairs to change into something suitable to receive Joshua in style.’
Bea grimaced. ‘She’s probably going through my wardrobe as we speak. Do you know a man called George Kent? Specializes in rare plants and seeds, Maidenhead way.’
‘George Kent?’ He rummaged through his memory banks. ‘Name rings a bell. Chelsea Flower Show? Have I painted him? No. Why do you ask?’
‘He married the Awful Aunt and it ended in tears. I’d like to know why.’
‘Mmm. Will think. Now, about my stuff. I know some of it’s still in the hall but I’ve stowed some in the interview room next door, the one you don’t use much now. I asked Betty if it was all right, and she said it was OK with her. I’ve got a line on another studio to rent and I was going to look at it this afternoon, but I don’t want to leave you if another Trescott visitation is on the books.’
‘That’s fine. I appreciate it. Thank you.’
He came to stand next to her and peered down at the photographs Keith had printed off for her. ‘Kent. A serious plants man? I don’t think I’ve ever met him but I’ve heard someone talk about him … somewhere. Didn’t she … yes, it was a she … she said he was one of those who talked to plants.’
He closed his eyes and concentrated. He lifted one of his hands as if he were painting. ‘Now, who was I painting when she said that? Definitely a woman. Got it. She’d been mentioned in the Honours List for charity work.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll think of it in a minute.’ He bent down to put his arm around Bea and kissed her on the temple. ‘I’m rushing you, aren’t I? Am I going too fast?’
She relaxed against him. She shook her head, not very much, but just enough to keep him beside her. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
He kissed her eyelids. ‘I won’t let you down again. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.’
‘It was half my fault. I didn’t understand how hard it was for you, without any work. We were too young.’
‘Nice of you to take the blame, but it was my stupid pride that led me astray.’ He stood up straight and wandered off to the door. Then stood still, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘George Kent. He was a near neighbour of hers. Lady … can’t remember her name, it’ll come back to me in a minute. Strong face, heavy eyebrows and chin. Interesting. I liked her. People often ramble on about whatever comes into their heads while I’m painting them and yes, she mentioned him because … now why was she concerned about him? Scandal? Something hushed up? When was that? Last year? No. Two years ago? She said I should look her up if I were down her way at any time. Not that that means anything with most people. But it’s enough for me to give her a ring now.’
He disappeared into the little-used interview room next door, which was clearly about to become his domain.
Faintly from upstairs came the sound of the front doorbell. Bea went upstairs to let Joshua in – remembering to disable the alarm before she did so.
Tall, well-built, toting a carry-on case and an uncertain smile. Unsure of his welcome.
Bea said, ‘You’ve brought some things for Evie? That’s good of you. The girls are upstairs at the moment. I’ll call them down.’
‘I’ve brought some shoes for Evie. You don’t mind if I …? I know you barred Benjy …?’
‘Indeed,’ said Bea, noting that the red monster had gone from outside, thank goodness. ‘No great harm done.’ She called up the stairs. ‘Girls, Joshua’s here.’ And then, to her visitor: ‘Come into the sitting room. Take a seat.’
He dumped the bag and selected a big chair in which to sit. He spread his knees, leaning forward on them. He was wearing a striped T-shirt and jeans. Good jeans. His hair had been cut by an expert recently. It wasn’t quite so floppy in front. It made him look more solid. Perhaps, she thought, he was a little old-fashioned? He didn’t look anything like his father. Yes, he was blonde like his mother, but he lacked the easy-going good humour which showed in the lines of his father’s face.
Bea made conversation. ‘Tell me about yourself. Do you get paid for working in the constituency or are you a volunteer?’
‘I’m working as PA to the local party agent at the moment, and hoping to get another chance to stand at a by-election when one comes up.’ He was off, parroting the party line. He’d learned his lines and he could deliver them well enough. He even looked the part of earnest, deeply concerned, young hopeful.
Bea wondered how much he was costing his family while he worked for nothing.
Bernice came in, looking amused. ‘Evie’s just coming. Hello, Joshua. I hope Benjy’s fully recovered now.’
He half rose when he saw her, and then sank back into the chair, frowning. ‘Er, yes. I mean, why wouldn’t he be?’
So Benjy hadn’t told Joshua that he’d been felled by a slip of a girl with a laptop and an attitude?
Bernice ironed out a grin. ‘I mean, because he got a parking ticket.’
‘Oh, so that’s what put him in such a foul mood? He gets them often enough. Parking tickets, I mean. And Nunkie’s been on at him about his timekeeping at work. Honestly, they expect him to carry out a junior temp’s work and pay him tuppence for doing so. It’s quite ridiculous. Mother says she’ll have to talk to Nunkie again about Benjy’s position in the business.’
Bernice opened her eyes wide. ‘How ever does he pay for them? The parking tickets, I mean?’
Joshua looked puzzled. ‘Well, naturally, Mother helps him out while he’s learning the trade.’
Bernice picked up the tote bag Joshua had brought. ‘Something for Evie?’ Bernice plucked a pair of worn trainers from the bag, a pair of lace-up shoes suitable for a granny – not that Bea would have been seen dead in them – and a much-washed pink dressing-gown.
Bernice said, in a creamy tone of voice, ‘I’m sure she’ll be pleased to have them, Joshua.’ Meaning that she thought they were only fit for the dump.
A soft voice spoke from the doorway. ‘Joshua?’
He turned his head without rising from his seat. Then did a double take, and actually stood up. All the way up. ‘Evie? Is that you?’
Evie enjoyed that moment. And yes, she was dressed in one of her newly bought outfits, a clinging white top and black jeans, with one of Bea’s precious silk scarves draped becomingly around her neck. Her dark hair waved and curled to her shoulders, and she wore mascara and a pink lipstick which made her, for once, look her age. All in all, she was a very pretty package.
Joshua gawked. There was no other word for it. He gawked.
Evie lowered her eyelids, revealing that Bernice had used some silver paint as well as mascara to outline her eyes. Bea tried not to grind her teeth. She hated to think what her make-up table looked like at this moment!
‘Evie?’ Joshua wasn’t at all sure that it was her.
Evie, eyes down, took a seat opposite him, lifting a tress of hair back to make sure it framed her face just as it should.
Bernice gave Bea a glance of much amusement and some embarrassment. Bernice knew she was going to get a rollicking for raiding Bea’s things, but she didn’t care. The result was stunning and Joshua was appropriately stunned. He resumed his seat with his eyes still on his cousin.
Bernice sat down beside Evie, saying, ‘As you can see, Joshua, she’s been shopping for things for herself. Don’t you think she looks good?’
He nodded. Cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Absolutely. Yes, I did bring … There’s some shoes and some more of your medication. Mother made sure you had plenty. She said I was to stand over you, watch you take it.’
‘Oh, I’m off that for a while. Just to see if I can cope.’
‘But … I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What does the doctor say?’
‘I haven’t seen him. Don’t worry. At the slightest sign of any trouble, I’ll yell for help.’
‘Oh. I suppose that’s all right. I’ll tell Mother. No doubt she’ll be in touch. Well, about the bag. Maria packed some shoes for you and put in a birthday card from her and Carlo, too.’ He cracked his knuckles. He was not at ease.
Evie said, ‘Maria’s always been very kind to me.’
‘Er, yes.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Mother asked me to tell you. We’ve had to rethink the celebrations this weekend, because of Uncle’s death. It wouldn’t look right to throw a big party now. We’ve tried to fix a date for the funeral, but what with holidays and staff shortages, it’s proved more difficult than we thought, and in fact they haven’t released the body yet, so … but we hope we can bury him next week. I’ve had to spend hours on the phone, telling people what’s happened and putting them off. So it will just be a quiet family dinner with a few friends this Friday night.’
‘Oh. No fairy lights in the garden? No marquee with a band?’
‘We’ve cancelled all that. We’ll have a sit-down meal in the London house and you can wear your new pink dress. Mother says you can have a big party later on, perhaps at Christmas.’
‘Will I still get my puppy?’
‘I suppose so. I don’t know. You must ask Mother.’ He cracked his knuckles.
Bea and Bernice sat very still.
Evie said, ‘There was going to be a fairy bower in the garden, covered with white roses and lit with tiny lights. You were going to ask me to marry you there. That’s not going to happen?’
He shifted uneasily. ‘Well, no bower, but we’ll still do the rest of it. After supper we’ll break out the champagne, ready for the toasts. I have the ring already. Or rather, Mother has it.’
‘And then what, Joshua? How long before we get married?’
He relaxed. He knew this bit of his script. ‘One month exactly. The registry office has been booked already.’
‘And a honeymoon?’
‘Well, you’re a bit young for …’ He stopped abruptly, realizing that the Evie he was now looking at was not too young for a honeymoon. ‘I don’t know.’
Evie continued in the same quiet tone, ‘I suppose you have to ask your mother about that, too. And where will we live?’
Another restless movement. ‘We’ll still use our own rooms at the top of the London house for the time being, and then, when I get into Parliament, we’ll buy a house somewhere in the constituency.’
‘That might take years,’ said this new, quietly controlled Evie. ‘How do you think I should occupy myself when we’re married?’
‘Well, I suppose you’ll do what all young married women do. Perhaps you can find a part-time job in a charity shop? That would look good on my CV. Or you could come into the constituency office and do some filing. I’m sure we can find something for you to do.’
‘Until we have children, you mean?’
Joshua reddened. His mouth opened and stayed there.
He knows Evie can’t have children!
Evie continued relentlessly, ‘Will you take me to a gynaecologist, Joshua, to see whether I’m able to have children or not? It would be good to know that, wouldn’t it?’
He gave a little cough. ‘Well, why wouldn’t you be?’
He knows she can’t have children but he’s going to pretend he doesn’t.
Evie stared at Joshua, and then through him. ‘The night before he died, Uncle Constant said he thought I was too young to marry yet, and Nunkie agreed. I can’t get married at sixteen unless my parents or guardian agree to it. So who is going to give consent to my marriage now?’
‘Don’t worry about that. It’s all arranged.’
He means his mother has arranged it. Nunkie said he didn’t think it was a good idea, before. Has he changed his tune? Who precisely has the right to decide this matter now? Who is Evie’s new guardian? Did Constant leave a will, and what is in it?
Evie rose to her feet, and extended her hand to Joshua. ‘Thank you for coming, Joshua. It’s been good to have this little talk, hasn’t it? We’ve known one another for ever, but we don’t usually talk, do we?’
He held on to her hand. ‘Evie, listen; you know I’ve always been fond of you.’
‘Yes, I know that. Now I’m a little tired. Shopping is rather tiring, isn’t it? But I’ll have lots of time to shop when we’re married, won’t I?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘I’ll see you on Friday at the party.’ She pulled her hand away and walked out of the room, head held high.
Bea wanted to applaud. She exchanged an eye-roll with Bernice, and said, ‘Yes, it was good of you to call, Joshua. Let me show you out.’
Joshua was not wearing the same calm, assured manner that he’d presented when he arrived. Joshua had been shaken and stirred. Joshua was having to think! With any luck, he was going to go back to his mother and ask a series of awkward questions.
And, he’d forgotten he was supposed to stand over Evie while she took her pills.
Bea opened the front door for him to leave. ‘Do I understand that our invitations to the party have been cancelled? That there’s going to be a small family affair instead?’
‘What?’ He was thinking about what he was going to say to his mother, wasn’t he? Gathering what was left of his wits, he said, ‘Oh, well. Yes and no. You and Bernice and the painter fellow are still expected. Leon Holland, of course. And that son of yours. He’s a member of parliament, isn’t he? Useful chap. It’ll be just the two families.’
So Bea and Bernice and Piers were still invited to this much reduced party? Now there was food for thought.
Bea shut the front door on him and reset the alarm.
Now she had to face another problem. Joshua was going to tell his mother that Evie was off her tablets and asking about the future. Joshua would add that Evie was growing into an attractive young woman who thought for herself.
So what would April do about it?