Thursday morning, continued
Ellie spotted a packet that had been posted through the letterbox. It looked inoffensive.
The woman had her hand to her throat, her eyes on the packet. She made no move to collect it. From where she sat, with the window boarded over, it wouldn’t have been possible for her to see who had posted the packet through the door, but she wasn’t making any move to pick it up.
Ellie got it. ‘You’ve been having anonymous letters? How distressing.’
The woman cleared her throat. ‘Not just letters. Doodahs from dogs. A stinking fish. I’m sorry you had to see … I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ She was near to cracking up.
‘What do the police say?’
‘They say they’re looking into it. They imply that there’s no smoke without a fire and ask if we’re sure we’ve been behaving ourselves. They think it’s hilarious.’
Ellie said, ‘Aren’t you going to see what’s in the package?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Better drop it straight into the rubbish bin.’
Ellie got up, thought about fingerprints, decided that if the police weren’t interested, it wouldn’t matter what she did and picked the package up. Brown paper, wrapped round something light. A cardboard box? Secured with Sellotape. No stamp, no address.
Ellie undid the paper to reveal a small round plastic tub, the sort which is sold with perishable food in it. It had been washed clean and there was no label. Inside …
Ellie dropped the tub.
The lid came off, and something large and hairy scuttled out and crouched there, wondering what to do next. A very large spider.
The woman screamed.
So did Ellie.
The man blundered back into the room, assessed the situation, snatched the tub from Ellie, shovelled the spider back into the tub and disappeared through the back door into the yard.
Ellie reflected that men have their uses.
‘What a fright that gave me.’ The woman tried to laugh. ‘I hate spiders.’
Ellie said, ‘My heart’s racing.’ She tried to laugh, as well.
With trembling hands, the woman picked up her mug and slowly, with care, sipped the coffee.
Ellie admired the woman’s control.
They drank in silence. Ellie waited for some energy to return. A shower of rain hit the front of the shop and drummed against the boards. A door slammed at the back of the shop so presumably the man had let the spider loose in the yard and returned.
The woman dropped the remains of the pencil into the waste-paper basket. She ran her fingers back through her hair – an expensive cut, well done. She straightened her jacket. She wasn’t yet able to think constructively but she was getting there.
The phone on her desk rang. She looked at the display. She said, ‘Number withheld. Another nuisance call. They’ll leave a message if it’s important.’
It continued to ring. Ellie’s nerve broke. She reached across to pick the receiver up. ‘Walker & Price. How may I help you?’
Someone laughed. A real cackle. And said, ‘Naughty, naughty! Incy Wincy Spider …’ Then cut the connection.
Ellie replaced the phone, and it rang again.
The same thing happened. Cackle, cackle. ‘Naughty …’
In tones of weary despair, the woman said, ‘It’ll be on speed dial. We get a nasty message, every day different, and it’s repeated every ten minutes. It keeps that particular phone out of circulation. We’ve tried to trace the number. We’ve told the police. They say someone’s using burner phones and they can’t do anything.’
Ellie said, ‘Tell me about—’
‘What’s the use?’
Ellie had been going to ask when this persecution – for that’s what it was – had started, but changed her mind. It would be better to speak of something which had no relation to the present problem, until the woman had regained her self-control. So Ellie said, ‘Tell me how you came to start in this business? Do you and your partner each have a different area of expertise or do you both do everything?’
The strategy worked, for this was something the woman could talk about. ‘My cousin – that’s Mr Walker …’ She gestured to the back of the room where the man had returned and seated himself at another desk. Staring into space. So if he were Mr Walker, then she must be Mrs Price? ‘He trained as a surveyor, like his father before him, and I trained as a secretary and bookkeeper because that’s what women of our generation did. Then I took all the exams and joined him in this business. We’ve always got along well, never any trouble. All those years.’
‘So you’re both qualified, but he did most of the managing of properties and you do most of the office work? What about the young man?’
‘We had another woman who worked with us for many years, keeping the office open, taking phone queries, looking after us beautifully. We didn’t realize exactly how much she contributed till she retired last year. Since then we’ve had several youngsters who want to get experience in this work and some have worked out and some haven’t. Archie’s the latest. He’s the best we’ve had so far. He won’t do the washing up or hoovering, but he’s good with clients. I don’t suppose he’ll stay, though. Who wants to be associated with a failing business?’
‘I know you’ve been here for many, many years. You have an excellent reputation. One of our trustees says—’
‘Rafael? A sharp brain, that one. We’ve known him some time as we’ve been handling the rental of his block of flats. When this trouble started he came round and spent some time with us, checking to see if we had by some mischance misrepresented ourselves. He was very nice about it. He said we’d done everything by the book and he would recommend that the charity continue to use us.’ A little colour came back into Mrs Price’s face. She’d liked Rafael, hadn’t she?
So why hadn’t Rafael mentioned that he’d been to look at the agency’s books?
Ellie said, ‘So you’re still handling the rental of his flats?’
‘Yes, of course.’
So what was Rafael busying himself with now, if he’d shed the work he used to do there?
Ellies guessed, ‘You’re acting for him in the acquisition or management of another building?’
A professional smile. ‘I couldn’t possibly say.’
Which meant that she probably was. Ellie recalled that Susan had said Rafael was worried about something. What on earth was going on here? Mrs Price wouldn’t talk for professional reasons. Ellie respected her for it. In fact, Ellie was inclined to think that Rafael was right in backing Walker & Price.
The problem remained that something was very wrong in the state of Denmark. Someone had it in for the agency, orchestrating a campaign in social media, on the phone and with inappropriate gifts in order to drive them out of business. But who and why?
Mrs Price provided some sort of answer. ‘I don’t think we can carry on here much longer. We’d had an enquiry as to whether we’d be prepared to sell before all this happened. My cousin wants to retire. He was planning to move to the south coast. I had intended to carry on for a couple more years, but I can’t do everything. And now … the agency who wants to buy us out has dropped the price because of what’s been happening. Sorry, you don’t need to hear this.’
‘I can see the attraction of getting out and leaving it to someone else to deal with the nastiness you’ve been experiencing. I suppose you might be interested if they offered you a partnership and a reasonable price?’
‘Rightly or wrongly, my cousin won’t have anything to do with them. He feels that they’re not the sort who … oh, well. You know?’ She folded her lips. She was not going to slander anyone, but her meaning was clear.
Which was a pity, really.
The phone, which had been silent for several minutes, started up again. This time Mrs Price looked to see if she recognized the number, and picked up the receiver. ‘Yes, and a very good morning to you, too. Now, you wanted a second viewing of the property above the shops here. Did we fix a date? Yes? I have it in my diary for …’
Ellie picked up a Walker & Price card from the desk and made ready to depart.
Mrs Price switched her eyes to Ellie. She nodded and smiled. Perhaps this conversation would end in satisfactory mode?
As Ellie made for the door, she had to edge past the boards which had been displaying photographs of properties to let in the window. The flying glass had damaged some of the photos but the boards themselves could probably be restored to their original position when the window had been replaced.
And there it was. Bold as brass.
The only nine-storey block of flats which had been built in this area for some years past. The cladding looked all right, but Ellie knew what had happened when similar cladding had aided the conflagration of the Grenfell high-rise block of flats in the not-too-distant past. She was aware of the investigations into that tragedy, and of the stalemate it had produced. Everyone was clear that the cladding of such high-rise buildings must be replaced not only in London, but all over the country. Only, the developers wanted to pass the cost of replacement on to the leaseholders, who were unable to afford the cost … and indeed, why should they? Meanwhile the flats had become unsaleable.
Ellie recalled the girl from Hong Kong saying they’d been warned off buying a flat in a local high-rise.
Oh. Dear.
Ellie knew of only one such building in the immediate vicinity and yes, it looked like the one in the photograph which had been in Walker & Price’s window.
The sticker across it read, ‘For Sale or Rent’.
It should have read ‘Unsaleable’ or ‘Do not Touch’.
Ellie looked back at Mrs Price, only to see that she was absorbed in her phone conversation.
Ellie guessed … No, she knew, she just knew, what it was that Rafael was up to. He was going to buy that block of flats and replace the cladding. It would cost a mint, far more than he had at his disposal. He would have to raise a fortune to do this. When he’d finished – if he finished – he would be in possession of a very valuable property. Instead of the flats being labelled as unsaleable, they would fetch double their normal prices simply because the defective cladding had been replaced.
It would be a gamble, yes. But Rafael was a gambler by nature. Yes, he did have a cool head, but in this case …
Ellie allowed herself to explore possibilities as she walked back along the Avenue. Rafael would have to put up his own low-rise block of flats, which he’d inherited and transformed, as collateral for a loan. The interest on a bank loan would be staggeringly high. He had no other assets. He and Susan were renting the house next door to Ellie’s.
Ellie paused, checking traffic before she crossed the road.
No, surely he wouldn’t be so stupid! Would he?
Yes, oh yes! He was far-sighted, he’d have done the maths, he’d probably had surveys done already, and approached builders about the cost of replacing the cladding. Maybe he’d even got as far as enquiring about permits to close the pathway outside the flats while the work was being done.
He hadn’t told Susan. He was going to put their future in jeopardy, but he hadn’t told his wife.
Oh, he liked to live life on the edge, didn’t he!
Ellie discovered that she was very angry with Rafael. How dare he put his family’s future at risk! He ought to be made to put his own block of flats into Susan’s name so that she would be safe whatever happened.
Ellie stepped into the road and stepped back quickly as an SUV swished past. Was it going to rain again, and she without an umbrella?
She told herself to simmer down. She’d built up a nightmare of a situation which might only exist in her imagination. Surely Rafael wouldn’t be so stupid!
Yes, he would.
No, he wouldn’t.
She’d know if he had as soon as she saw him again.
And then … oh yes, it hit her what he ought to have done …
A bus screeched to a halt not a foot from where she stood in the road.
Someone shouted at her. A man darted into the traffic, seized her arm and hustled her back to the pavement, scolding her as he went. The bus driver slowly drove away, his passengers peering out of the windows to look at this stupid woman who clearly had a death wish.
Ellie gasped. ‘Sorry! Sorry! Not paying attention.’
‘You ought to be locked up!’ The man continued to hold her arm.
A middle-aged woman said, ‘Come and sit down for a bit, right?’
Ellie found she was shaking. There was a low wall fronting a semi-detached house nearby. She sat on that, trying to smile, telling everyone she was quite all right, and apologizing over and over again for giving them – and herself – such a fright. Thanking the man who had obviously saved her life.
The man drifted away, growling to himself about stupid women.
The middle-aged woman said, ‘There, there! You want someone to see you home?’ She produced a smartphone. ‘Who shall I ring for you? A neighbour? You shouldn’t be on your own.’
Ellie’s heartbeat slowed down, and she began to work out what to do. ‘Could you call me a taxi? There’s no one at home today but there’s someone next door who’d look after me.’
‘Taxi it is. You should get your doctor to give you the once over. My neighbour did the same thing, walked into the traffic. It was the beginning of Alzheimer’s and she’s in a home now, poor dear, not knowing what day of the week it is.’ She dialled, gave instructions and said, ‘I’ll sit with you till he comes.’
Ellie thanked the woman, got into the taxi when it arrived and trundled home. Instead of going into her house, however, she rang the bell at Susan and Rafael’s front door. They’d only recently had a porch put on, which was a great improvement and handy today with the intermittent spells of rain that were sweeping across the country.
No one came to the door. The house felt quiet.
Ellie tried to look through the window into the kitchen, but the louvres of a blind prevented her from seeing inside.
Susan must be out fetching the little girl from playgroup, or shopping or … Well, anyway. She wasn’t at home and neither was Rafael.
Ellie used her key to let herself into her own home and was enveloped instantly by the feeling of her life being still in a muddle.
Midge, the cat, liked to sit on the shelf where they dumped any mail that came through the door, but he didn’t like the mail being left in a place where he wanted to sit. So, today’s mail was on the floor. The grandmother clock was still silent. Through the glass door at the back of the hall she could see the empty shelves of her conservatory, which had always looked so welcoming when full of flowers.
There was so much to do and she hadn’t the energy to deal with any of it, inside or outside the house.
But here came her much-loved husband Thomas, emerging from his den with Fifi in his arms.
Ellie dropped her handbag and held out her arms to him. He was big enough and strong enough to hold not only her but also the toddler. She said, ‘I’m home,’ which felt like the right thing to say while at the same time being ridiculously stupid.
Fifi reached out one hand to Ellie, while holding tightly to her toy Gonk with the other.
‘She’s teething, poor mite,’ said Thomas. ‘Susan had to collect Jenny from nursery and take her to a dentist’s appointment, so she asked if I could look after Fifi. We’ve been entertaining one another but are ready for our nap, now. So what have you been up to? Let’s sit down next door and you can tell me all about it.’
They sat side by side on the big settee while Fifi, still resting in the crook of Thomas’ left arm, hummed herself to sleep.
Now Ellie had something else to worry about. Neither she nor Thomas were in the first flush of youth. They were delighted to have more contact with their grandchildren – and with little Fifi – but they were no longer as spry as they had been. Increasing stiffness limited what they could do to babysit. Lifting youngsters into highchairs and on and off potties was no longer easy. What was to be done about that?
Ellie made herself comfortable in the shelter of Thomas’ right arm, and poured out all her worries, including all topics from the clock to worrying about Susan, letting it all hang out, higgledy-piggledy; what she’d seen; what she suspected and what she’d been told but might not be true.
Midge the cat joined them to sit on the arm of the settee next to Thomas. Ellie mopped herself up. ‘Of course, it might all be my imagination.’
Still Thomas said nothing. She was conscious of his strength. She realized he was consulting Him above. Oh dear, how trivial were her own little problems.
She said, ‘I’m not imagining that Walker & Price are under attack; they are. And the idea that Rafael might possibly be thinking of trying to buy that white elephant is probably just that; a wild idea with no basis of facts but … oh, I don’t know. Tell me I’m going soft in the head.’
He spoke at last. ‘You see through the masks people wear to what they are thinking. I’m fond of Rafael and so are you, which doesn’t prevent us seeing that at the moment he’s not looking after Susan as well as he might. You’re right; he’s a risk-taker and enjoys a challenge. I’m perfectly ready to agree that he might have seen a gap in the market that would make him a fortune if he can get proper financing for it, but he can’t possibly do it alone. He needs a backer. Does he have one? Surely he wouldn’t think of going it alone? Mm. He’s not a bad lad, but he needs a quiet word in his ear from time to time.’
‘Am I to do it, or will you?’
A longer pause for thought. ‘I don’t think that is my job here. He respects your opinion. It’s you who have a clear view of the situation. It’s you who’ve been in touch with Walker & Price, and you who runs the charity. I think my job is to find some help for Susan.’
‘So you think I should tackle Rafael? I suppose I’d better do so. Oh dear. I’m not looking forward to that. And what about Walker & Price? I liked them and thought they had a very professional outlook. Yes, they do seem to have got a bit muddled about this and that; saying a doctor had organized the let for the student house, and there seems to have been a misunderstanding about the rent, but … Do I back them or not? What if the media talk is true and the student died because of some mistake on our builder’s part? Doesn’t that put a different slant on things? The coroner seems to have been satisfied, but people are saying there’s no smoke without a fire. Remember that Walker & Price had the word “murderer” painted on their premises. Could there possibly be some truth in that?’
Thomas said, ‘You could always ask Lesley what she thinks and take it from there.’
Now Lesley Millard was not only Susan’s aunt, who had recommended the girl as a tenant for the attic floor in the big house in the old days, but also a detective inspector in the local police force.
Ellie relaxed. ‘Yes, of course that’s what I must do. If the police are satisfied, then we can forget about that death. The talk will soon die down. But what seems to be escalating rather than dying down, is the horrible things that have been happening to Walker & Price. The police don’t seem to be taking them seriously.’
‘But you are. You’re thinking that someone you’ve heard of might be behind these attacks.’
‘I know it’s absurd and I’m jumping to conclusions but Mrs Price did say they’d had an offer to buy their agency, but the people concerned have dropped the proposed price because of what’s been happening. And I thought, maybe that offer came from someone who’d actually caused the problem in the first place. I have no proof that it’s the same agency that’s after the charity’s business, but I did think the Streetwise agency could do with being looked at. Is that such a ridiculous idea? And yet … No, surely not. Wouldn’t they be disbarred or something if they’re found to be behaving that badly?’
Thomas said, ‘Define “behaving badly”. If you’re referring to the online hate mail and phone calls, well, they could be done by people who have absolutely no connection with either of the estate agencies concerned. Some people who use the media seem to exist in a state of envy. Their lives are dull and without excitement, so they jump on bandwagons started by someone else. They get a thrill from it, not least because they know they can rarely be traced, so they can say anything they like with impunity. They are trying to bring in laws to prevent this happening, but at the moment these people who post filth are mostly free from prosecution.’
Ellie shivered. What it must be like to live like that, eaten up with hate?
Thomas said, ‘You experienced one lot today. The phone calls are set up to repeat a pre-recorded message. They don’t need to have met the person to bombard them with hate mail. The perpetrators might be someone who’d never dream of committing a crime in person. They could be a failed student, a disgruntled client or an old lady with nothing better to do.’
‘And the paint on the window? The brick through the glass? The spider posted through the door?’
‘No, that’s different. Be careful, Ellie. Once people start throwing things in person as apart from making anonymous phone calls, they progress from bricks to brickbats.’
‘Well, they don’t know about me. Yet.’
Ellie told herself she ought to be getting up and doing something but found it hard to do so. It was so comfortable sitting there, with Thomas’ arm around her. She relaxed. She said, trying to laugh, ‘Look at me! We come back from a lovely long holiday, to find a house which is all topsy-turvy, a ruined garden, a domestic crisis threatening next door, children needing to be babysat and me interfering in other people’s businesses instead of looking after you.’
He said, ‘My arms were empty before I met you. I am content.’
Thursday lunchtime
Jenny bounced in through the empty conservatory with Susan at her heels. Jenny was a happy bunny because she’d been given the all-clear at the dentist.
Susan had brought duplicate keys to her house, saying it was ridiculous standing on ceremony as everyone was already going from one house to the other via the garden. And would they like a steak and kidney pudding for supper? Of course they would.
Time to get moving again.
Fifi became Thomas’ shadow because he was doing such interesting things. She ‘helped’ him fiddle around with pieces of card to put under the front of the clock in the hall until it condescended to work again. She learned to open the door of the clock to see the pendulum swing to and fro. She clapped her hands with joy when it chimed the hour.
Ellie sorted things in the kitchen. She looked at the mail – all junk – and put it back on the shelf to be dealt with later. At which point Midge jumped up and pushed it off again. Ellie put the whole boiling lot in the bin without looking at it again.
Fifi and Jenny, protesting, were taken home for lunch, but within minutes Ellie and Thomas could hear Jenny having a tantrum about something. Her screams of protest could clearly be heard as she rampaged to and fro, in and out of the garden, stamping on everything in sight. Jenny was the child most like her absent mother Diana, who had also tried to get her own way by making herself unpleasant.
Ellie sighed; Jenny was a difficult child, needing a firm hand. Susan was doing a very good job of making the child understand that screaming blue murder got you nowhere … but, as Thomas remarked, it must be taking its toll on Susan’s patience. And where was Rafael? Nowhere to be seen.
Thomas shut the windows at the back of the house to block out the sound of Jenny screeching. They had a scratch lunch in the kitchen after which, worn out by the day’s excitements, Thomas retired to deal with emails on his computer, while Ellie took a nap.
Thursday afternoon
Ellie cut short her rest and stirred herself to go next door and return Susan’s dishes from the meal they had eaten the night before.
She found that Jenny had recovered sufficiently from her tantrum to play happily on her tablet behind the television set. Susan looked tired. She said that Jenny had discovered she could get Susan’s complete attention by refusing to use the toilet until bribed to do so. Susan said she knew it was wrong to give in to the child, and that it was shocking to realize that a three-year-old could defeat her, but there it was … Susan had come to the conclusion that there were times when it was easiest to give in.
But, Susan said, she wasn’t too tired to miss out on a good chat with Ellie, and would she like a cup of good coffee?
Ellie accepted, seeing that Susan wanted to talk. Evan was at school and Fifi was happily building towers of bricks and knocking them down again, closely watched by Midge, the cat.
Susan let herself down on to the settee beside Ellie and sighed.
Ellie noted that Susan was heavy-eyed, and getting slow in all her movements. She asked, ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Fine. A bit tired, naturally. The last scan showed that all was well and it is going to be a boy.’
‘You need help. Is Rafael organizing something for you?’
Susan lifted her hands and let them drop. ‘We did have someone to help with the children before you came back, but she’s doing her school exams at the moment. Rafael says that I’m a warrior and he’s full of admiration for the way I’m coping; so what can I say? I’ve tried to explain what pregnancy does to you, but he won’t listen. Honestly, I could clock him over the head with a frying pan sometimes.
‘The thing is that when he’s got a project in mind, he can’t think about anything else. First he had the flats to make habitable. Then he schemed to marry me and have a baby. Then there was this house to divide into two. And now … I’m not sure what it is that he’s up to, but he refuses to talk about it. He says I don’t need to bother my head about business affairs. Have you any idea what he’s thinking about?’
‘I’m guessing,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ll have a word with him. I suppose he’s like that because that’s the way he was brought up. He’s reverting to Italian papa type, expecting the little wife to be responsible for everything at home while he acts as hunter-gatherer.’
Susan eased her back. ‘You’re right. His mother was happy to be the little wifey who stays at home, cooks delicious meals, brings up the children and believes it when she’s told she doesn’t need to bother her head with politics. His father still thinks that’s how it should be. At least Rafael’s not quite as bad as that.’
Ellie smiled. ‘He told me he takes after his rascally old uncle, who was always sailing too close to the wind but who did accept that times change.’
Susan grinned. ‘He sounded fun. And he did leave Rafael his block of flats, which has been the foundation of everything he’s done since.’
Ellie said, ‘Rafael has a special something. He has an ability to think outside the box. That’s why I thought he’d be so good working for the charity, and he’s been a real asset there.’
Susan yawned and didn’t try to hide it. ‘He says I’m not to worry, which of course makes me worry all the more.’ She looked at the clock and struggled to her feet saying it was time for her to put Jenny and Fifi in the double pushchair and fetch Evan from school.
Ellie was horrified at the thought of Susan having to push the two children around and volunteered to stay and babysit Fifi while Susan took Jenny alone.
Jenny, predictably, said she didn’t want to go. Susan remarked that they’d be passing the ice cream van on their way, and if someone was a really good girl, she might perhaps have one. Jenny then got into the pushchair of her own accord and off they went to collect Evan.
Fifi abandoned her bricks to bring one of her action books over to the settee for Ellie to read to her. She was an agile little imp and managed to climb up – with a helping hand from Ellie – and settle down at Ellie’s side. Both of them enjoyed the books which had appropriate actions and sounds to use in the stories.
From one second to the other, Fifi fell asleep. She was so active she needed frequent naps to keep her strength up.
Ellie thought of lifting her up and carrying her out to the hall so that she could lay her down in her buggy. That would be the right thing to do. The only problem was that she didn’t think her back would stand for it. Fifi was by no means overweight, but at Ellie’s age she knew what she could and could not do without hurting herself.
Ellie decided to let Fifi lie where she was in the corner of the settee. She fetched a blanket from the buggy to lay over the child and lay back down beside her. She let her eyes wander round the room. This had once been Thomas’ study and library but had been transformed by Susan into a comfortable space in which the whole family lived. Nowadays the room was not only decorated with children’s toys, but there was a variety of Victorian watercolour seascapes on the walls, several side lamps placed on shelves high enough so that small children couldn’t interfere with them and a large television.
Now that she was alone, Ellie realized she was nervous about talking to Rafael. She tried to pray but the lines of communication seemed blocked, probably by her own anxiety. She tried not to think about anything. Especially about her stupidity at stepping in front of a bus …
She started awake. What was that? Fifi hadn’t stirred, but yes, someone had turned a key in the front door.
Rafael dropped a bag in the hall and came through, soft-footed, expecting to see Susan. He stopped short when he found Ellie stretched out on the settee with Fifi asleep beside her.
Ellie said, ‘I ought to put you over my knee, young man. Overreached yourself, haven’t you?’