Chapter Seven

Ellie got some food into Neil and ate some herself. She was not a fan of junk food, but there was no denying that on occasions like this it hit the right spot. Neil topped off his meal with some black coffee but Ellie settled on a fruit juice. If ever she did get back home that night, she wanted to be able to sleep.

Meanwhile Neil talked . . . and talked . . . and talked.

Ellie heard about his latest girlfriend and how that affair had been going, what her parents were like, what he’d said about them to her, and what she’d said to him about them. And all about their last row . . .

Well, there was no need to listen to every word, was there? Ellie got the impression that he didn’t consider this particular girlfriend a long-term project. When Ellie reminded Neil that it would be kind to let his girlfriend know that he was waiting for news of his gran at the hospital, he turned sulky, said she didn’t care what he did, so why should he bother?

He did have one bit of good news for her, though. Neil had got started his garden maintenance and decorating business with a grant from Ellie’s charitable trust. His business was doing well, even in the depths of winter. There was no grass cutting to be done for the moment, of course, but he could mend and replace fences, attack overgrown plots, clear out ponds and tackle most smallish outdoor jobs. And there were always people who wanted decorating done in time for Christmas.

He’d not impressed the members of the trust with his book-keeping skills, but after trying out various girlfriends in that direction, he’d now found someone capable to help him: a young single mother who was a friend of a friend. She worked part-time at a school so she could look after her little one. She was glad to have some extra work she could do at home, and he could trust her to keep the books straight.

Ellie realized that he was talking to keep depression at bay. Fair enough. She did that herself, sometimes. At last, though, he pushed back his empty cup and said he thought they ought to be getting back. At the beginning of the meal he’d been making positive remarks about how his gran would come through this, no problem. With all the carbohydrates he’d been stuffing into himself, he ought to have been more positive, but the opposite seemed to be true.

‘If only I hadn’t shouted at her that last time.’

‘Maybe your father will be arriving soon,’ said Ellie with one eye on the clock.

‘Much good he’ll be. I only hope he doesn’t bring her down with him, his totty bird. Gran never liked her. “Mutton dressed as lamb,” Gran said. It took me a while to work out what she meant, but she’s right.’ He grinned. ‘Likely she’ll not come, what with the surprise packet and all. A surprise to him, too. He hadn’t reckoned on another mouth to feed at his age.’

They made their way back to A & E to hear that Mrs Dawes had come back from the scan and was now in Intensive Care, no visitors allowed yet. There was some good news: the scan showed only a hairline fracture of the skull, so an operation would not be needed. On the other hand, with head injuries they couldn’t tell how long it might take for the patient to wake up.

Neil’s father arrived; another big-boned man, dark-haired and dark-clothed. He and Neil greeted one another with lowered eyes and an avoidance of physical contact. Not close, then. The department was as busy as ever, but Ellie found them a corner in which to wait. Had Mr Dawes eaten? It appeared he’d stopped on the way down for a burger.

Mr Dawes asked if the police had been informed. Ellie filled him in as best she could. She asked if he’d like to come back to stay the night with her. He shook his head.

They waited.

Soon after midnight, Thomas appeared, apologizing for his delay in getting there. He’d had yet another call to make on his way over. He looked much as he always did, save for a slight darkening of the shadows under his eyes. A strong man, capable of bearing many people’s burdens. Ellie was concerned for him. Even strong men need to eat, drink and take a rest sometime.

He checked in at the desk, waiting patiently while the victim of a mugging was admitted. He suggested that he take Ellie home, but Neil looked so alarmed — possibly at the thought of being left alone with his father? — that Ellie said that she’d prefer to stay. Thomas sat down to wait with them. He talked for a while with Mr Dawes, but after a while they all fell silent. Waiting. Time limped on.

At half past one, a doctor came to see them. Mrs Dawes was to be kept in Intensive Care for a while, but one member of the family could go in to see her for a short time if they wished.

Mr Dawes vanished with the doctor. He returned after a short while, looking shocked. Neil hit his eyelids with the back of his hands. He said he’d wait to see her in the morning.

A nurse suggested that if they’d like to go home, the hospital would be in touch if . . . Please leave details of where you will be . . . it might be some time before . . .

They nodded. Thomas said Mr Dawes could doss down at his place, if he liked. It wasn’t much, but Mr Dawes could have the bed and he’d take the chair that turned into a bed, if Mr Dawes knew what he meant. It appeared that he did.

‘Thanks. Yes. My gran had one of those when I was a kid. It’s been a long day. We never sleep through the night at home, with the young one. I told Sylvia I’d ring and let her know what’s happening, but not till morning or she’ll not be best pleased.’

Ellie smothered a yawn. ‘Neil, would you like to come back with me for the rest of the night or do you want to get back to your place?’

Neil, too, shied away from the thought of waking his girlfriend up. ‘She’ll think I’ve gone to one of my mates. She won’t be worried about me, not her. I’ll give her a ring in the morning, mebbe. I can kip down anywhere. In the van, probbly.’

‘Certainly not,’ said Ellie. ‘I always keep a bed made up in the spare room, and you want to be fresh for your gran in the morning.’

‘Give you a lift, then.’

Neil took her back in his van, which reminded her, as she climbed up into it, and then climbed down on to the driveway when they reached her house, that vans were not really suitable methods of transport for someone in their fifties with less than perfect statistics. She ached all over with tiredness, but forced herself to make sure Neil had everything he needed. Then, of course, she had to feed Midge, who’d plopped through the cat flap to greet her as she let herself in. Finally, she could fall into bed herself.

Her last thought was that it wasn’t long before she had to be at church, fed, clothed and in her right mind, to sing in the choir. It was Sunday morning already, but perhaps, just for once, she’d not set the alarm, and manage to sleep through . . .

* * *

Midge woke Ellie at her usual time of seven o’clock. Midge usually managed to adjust fairly quickly to the hour going back in autumn, but his internal clock insisted that food be provided for him at regular intervals, and no nonsense about his provider sleeping in.

Bleary-eyed, Ellie fed him and managed to take a shower without waking Neil. She hoped he’d sleep on for a while. She dressed and went downstairs, trying not to let the third stair squeak. Black coffee never had appealed to her, but she made herself a brew, telling herself sternly that it would do her good, only to reach for the milk and sugar before she had taken more than a sip. She then had some cereal and half a slice of toast for breakfast.

Eight o’clock, and still Neil slept. She knew it was no use ringing the hospital for news of Mrs Dawes because they’d refuse information to any but next of kin. It was better to let Neil sleep on. It was a good sign, surely, that they hadn’t rung Neil here in the night?

Should she go back to bed herself? It was a temptation, but she knew she’d never sleep soundly if she did. She drew back the curtains, watered her indoor plants, kept the wireless on low so as not to disturb Neil. An unmarked car drew up outside, and two policemen got out and came down the slope to her front door. Ears and his partner. Ellie felt herself grow rigid. Had the unthinkable happened and Mrs Dawes died?

She ran to the front door and held it open. ‘Mrs Dawes . . . ?’

‘We understand you brought her grandson home with you. Can we have a word with him, please?’

For a moment Ellie couldn’t think what they meant, and then she realized they thought that Neil had had something to do with the attack on Mrs Dawes. Ridiculous! A second later she understood that from their point of view it wasn’t at all ridiculous. Mrs Kumar had told the police that Neil and Mrs Dawes had been shouting at one another. Neil had been open about it, too. In the eyes of the police, that probably meant they’d quarrelled.

‘He’s still in bed, asleep,’ she said. ‘Come in. I’ll wake him. Would you like some coffee?’

Her brain was going into overdrive. She desperately needed to think, but her brain wasn’t functioning as well as usual. It was a Sunday morning. Should she see if she could get her solicitor, Bill Weatherspoon, out of bed to look after Neil? Would Bill want to be involved? The answer to that was, no, he wouldn’t. What’s more, he wouldn’t want her to get involved, either. He’d tried to get her to promise never to get involved with the police again, which was one of the reasons she’d stopped seeing so much of him. If a friend got into trouble, she wanted to be able to do something about it.

‘No coffee, thanks,’ said Ears, stepping inside. ‘If you’ll just get him downstairs for us, we’d like a quiet word.’

‘He didn’t do it,’ said Ellie, and as she spoke she saw their faces relax into a ‘poor old girl, thinks butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth’ smile.

‘Didn’t do what, missus?’ said Ears. ‘He’s not accused of anything — yet. We just want a word, quietly. Right?’

Ellie showed them into the sitting room and went up to shake Neil’s shoulder. He was still deeply asleep. ‘Neil, wake up! There’s no news of your gran, but the police are here, wanting a word.’

She steered him into the bathroom, then went to make some more coffee. He stumbled downstairs eventually. She had to admit that he looked pretty villainous what with his shaved head and unshaved chin. And earrings.

He saw the police and did a double take. For a moment Ellie thought he was going to make a run for it. Perhaps the thought did cross his mind. He gave Ellie a look of horror, probably thinking she’d betrayed him to the plod.

She said, ‘They just want a quiet word, Neil. You’d like some coffee, wouldn’t you?’

She ushered him into the sitting room and went out through the French windows into the conservatory, not quite closing the door behind her. She wanted to hear what went on. Their voices rumbled. She pushed the plunger down on the cafetière, found some biscuits that Thomas had overlooked and took the tray in for Neil.

Neil was looking belligerent, saying, ‘I told you, she often shouts at people. If she shouts at me, I shout back. It’s just the way she is.’

Ellie said to the policemen, ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cuppa?’

‘No thanks, missus.’

She left the room but continued to lurk in the conservatory, out of sight of the policemen.

Neil was just about keeping his temper under control. ‘Yes, I saw her Friday afternoon. Yes, we had words, but it wasn’t serious. What was it about? She’d been on at me about some greenery she wanted for the church. She’d asked me to go up and collect it for her, and that’s what I’d tried to do, only it didn’t work out.’

A murmur from the police.

‘Why didn’t it work out? Well, the woman said it was OK to take the greenery because she wanted to get someone to clear the garden for her, and I offered to do it, but she said I was too pricey, which I wasn’t. But then a man come out of the house and said no, the garden looked bad enough as it was without me taking anything, and he wasn’t prepared to pay for some poncey gardener to charge the earth for tearing it up, and they started arguing about that. So I had to leave it.

‘Gran was in a fidget about it, said I must have been rude or something. Only that morning she’d sent someone else to get it, and that had gone wrong, too. She said that if I’d only done as she asked in the first place, she’d have had her greenery and not been put to a lot of extra trouble. She said it was all my fault.’

Murmur, murmur.

‘Listen, that’s the way she is, my gran. She doesn’t like it when people don’t do what she wants. It happens all the time . . . What about? Well, almost anything. About my earrings and shaving my head, and not keeping my van spotless. I ask you, in this weather, keeping a white van clean!’

Murmur, murmur.

‘What did I do after I left her? I went home, of course. I was in a foul temper. I thought me and my girlfriend could go out down the pub, but she was in a right mood, too. So we had words about that . . . Why? She’s always wanting me to go round her parents’ house at the weekend and me, I like to sleep in of a weekend, so it ended up with me slamming out . . .’

Murmur, murmur. Ellie couldn’t quite hear what the police were saying.

‘No,’ said Neil. ‘I didn’t go back there, not after what she’d said. It weren’t called for and I told her so. No, I don’t know exactly where I went when I banged out of the flat. I drove around for a bit. Then I thought of going to see my mate over at Isleworth, but he weren’t in. So I went in the pub there, but it was crowded and smoky, and I hate cigarette smoke, so I ended up walking down by the river . . .’

Murmur, murmur.

‘No, I don’t suppose I did see anyone I know. Well, I wouldn’t, would I?’

Murmur, murmur.

Neil’s voice raised in protest. ‘What? But I haven’t done anything wrong!’

A police voice raised. ‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about. All we want is to ask you a few more questions down the station.’

Ellie shot into the sitting room, aware that Neil was on a short fuse and that it wouldn’t do him any good to resist, or worse, to throw a punch.

‘What a fuss about nothing,’ she said, laying a calming hand on Neil’s arm, very much aware that his blood pressure was mounting to danger point. ‘Neil, shall I ring your father, get him to go with you?’

He looked as if he’d made a false step in the dark. ‘What? My father?’ But his colour began to subside.

Ellie spoke to the policemen. ‘You’re making a mistake, you know. What Neil says is true. He and his gran are always shouting at one another, but that’s because she shouts at everyone.’

Ears smiled forgivingly. ‘We just want a word down at the station.’

‘Of course.’ Ellie tried to think what was best to do. She could ring Thomas — no, she couldn’t. Thomas was on duty today, Sunday. He’d have taken the eight o’clock communion by now, but he still had two services to take, two sermons to give, lots of people to speak to. She couldn’t ring Thomas.

She said, ‘I’ll just fetch my coat and come down with you, Neil. Give me a minute.’

‘No need for that, missus,’ said the other policeman.

‘I think there is,’ said Ellie, slamming the lid on the biscuit tin, and scooping up Neil’s mug to take out to the kitchen. She’d have liked to have had time to ring Kate next door and tell her what was happening and to leave a message for Thomas, too, but no, she’d better not. Now, where had she put her mobile phone? In her handbag, she hoped.

Someone rang the doorbell. Everyone looked at everyone else.

‘You expecting someone, missus?’ asked Ears.

Ellie shook her head. She didn’t like the sound of that doorbell. Sometimes it rang with a perky, joyful note. And sometimes it seemed to toll. This was a definite toll.

Closely followed by the two policeman, one of whom was grasping Neil by the elbow, she opened the front door to find a snotty-nosed, weeping, dishevelled five-year-old boy on the doorstep, clutching an Action Man toy, broken, and a DVD.

‘Frank?’

Diana’s car was just driving off.

Frank was huddled into his jacket, looking up at her as if he expected her to turn him away from her door. Poor little mite! Ellie thought of everything that the little boy had been through the previous day, and wanted simultaneously to kill Diana and to hug the little boy.

‘Come on in,’ she said, realizing that Frank was her priority now, and that Neil must take his chance. ‘Neil, I’m so sorry, but you see . . . ?’

Neil nodded. ‘If you can get hold of Dad?’

Ellie said she’d try and then the phone rang. What a busy morning this was turning out to be. As Ellie ushered little Frank into the house, Ears and his colleague led Neil up the slope to their car in the road. Ellie slammed the front door, scooped up the phone, and drew the little boy close. He was still crying, still clutching his broken toy and the DVD.

‘Yes?’ Ellie was uncharacteristically terse.

‘Ellie, are you all right?’ It was Kate, her next-door neighbour and very good friend. ‘We saw the police car and wondered . . .’

‘It’s all right. Or almost all right. All right in bits,’ said Ellie. ‘Mrs Dawes—’

‘Yes, I had to ring Felicity . . .’ Kate had been something in the City until she had her first child, and now she looked after Felicity’s business affairs. ‘She said you’d found Mrs Dawes unconscious. What a shock! How is Mrs Dawes getting on? Are you all right and what’s going on with the police? Why were they carting young Neil — it was Neil, wasn’t it? Isn’t that his van outside? — off in their car?’

‘He and Mrs Dawes had a shouting match on Friday afternoon, and they think . . . oh, it’s ridiculous of course. It’s far more likely to be one of the drug pushers from the Avenue.’ She tried, gently, to disengage Frank from his jacket, but he resisted her.

‘Why would drug pushers target Mrs Dawes?’ Kate always thought clearly. In this particular case, Ellie wished Kate didn’t. It would be so convenient to put it on the drug pushers.

Ellie sighed. ‘They got across Mrs Dawes and she had a go at them. I know, I know. It’s not a good enough reason for them to attack her in her own home, but I’m sure it wasn’t Neil. I sat with him at the hospital last night and brought him back here when Mrs Dawes was moved to Intensive Care. The hospital has this number for Neil and they haven’t rung, so she hasn’t taken a turn for the worse. That must be good, mustn’t it?’

Frank was pressing himself into her good skirt; oh, what a sticky face he had, her poor skirt. He was still clinging tightly to his toy and DVD. ‘Look, Kate. I’ve got to go. Diana’s brought Frank round.’

Kate sounded amused. ‘Are you going to take him to church with you?’

‘I don’t think I can. He’s had a rough time. I’ll ring them and say I can’t make it.’

‘I’d look after him myself, but he teased Catriona last time he came round, and if he takes it into his head to run off I’m not in any condition to run after him. Is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Thank you, Kate. No. Just look after yourself.’

Kate sighed, the heavy sigh of late pregnancy, and cut off the phone.

Ellie concentrated on little Frank. ‘Now, what’s all this about, little man?’

He still wouldn’t let go of his toy, but he now held it out to her. ‘Broke.’

Ah. Denis’ boys were all much older than Frank, and rough. Frank had probably become their latest play thing, in a not nice way. He never liked going there.

Ellie took the DVD off him, noting that it was adult rated and a highly unsuitable choice for a boy who’d found Mrs Dawes in a pool of blood the day before. She said, ‘Well, we can always buy you another Action Man. So, what about breakfast?’

How many breakfasts did that make this morning? And — a glance at the clock — what was she going to do about church? If she cried off singing in the choir, they’d be not just one alto down, but an alto plus a soprano. If she didn’t turn up to help with the coffee afterwards, Jean, who organized the coffee rota, would be incensed. Jean was the sort of bully every church needed to keep people up to the mark, and Ellie always seemed to be making excuses when she was on the coffee roster. Jean would not be pleased.

But Frank had to be her first concern. She managed to lift him on to her lap — he was getting almost too big for this, and oh, was that a twinge in her back? — and made another attempt to peel off his jacket. This time he let her. His shoe laces were undone. There was a tear in his jumper. And was that a bruise coming up on his cheek?

‘There, there,’ she said, promising herself a word with Diana about leaving Frank with Denis’ boys. ‘There, there. How about you go upstairs and have a good wash and then you can put on some clothes that you can be comfortable in.’ Luckily she always kept a change of clothes for Frank in ‘his’ little bedroom at her house.

He threw his arms around her neck, and buried his face in her sweater. He’d stopped crying, almost. She rocked to and fro, patting his back, holding him close. She didn’t fool herself that he loved her in any great depth: he’d had a nasty fright, his father and stepmother were away, and his mother didn’t want him around. Granny was next best. And Granny did love him.

‘There, there,’ said Ellie, thinking of all the phone calls she needed to make, and wondering how on earth she was going to cope.

She couldn’t phone Bill to arrange a solicitor for Neil, because Bill didn’t want to get involved in that sort of thing any more. Anyway, Bill was pretty well retired now. And yes, it was Sunday morning and who would want to turn out for someone like Neil, whom they’d think probably deserved a session in the cells for something or other, if not for this? Ellie could see their point of view. If Neil would go around looking like a bovver boy, he’d only himself to blame for being treated like one. Also, there was no denying he had a short fuse.

Ellie couldn’t think how to solve that one. She really ought to ring Thomas if she could get Frank unstuck from round her neck, and it was no use telling herself that the little boy was overreacting, because he wasn’t. Only, he might be, of course. He might be putting it on because he’d not been able to get his own way in everything and because his favourite toy had got broken. She might be maligning Denis’ boys because Frank could be a mite destructive with his toys, and they’d probably looked after him very well.

She really ought to ring Jean, and the choir master, and tell them she couldn’t make it. And oh! How could she have forgotten that she was due at Aunt Drusilla’s for lunch? Could she take Frank with her? He wouldn’t be a terribly welcome guest, that was for sure. His table manners were just about all right on a good day, but appalling on a bad one. This was obviously a bad one.

She shifted him into a more comfortable position on her lap, and her back twinged again. Surely she wasn’t going to start having a bad back, was she? On top of everything else? She told herself that she was falling into the self-pity trap. It got you nowhere, just paralysed you. She would try a spot of prayer, see if that unstuck her.

Dear Lord, help. I can’t sort out my priorities. I know I need to get moving, speak to Neil’s father, get a solicitor, ring Jean and Thomas and everyone. Please help this little boy, who’s so unhappy and show me how to talk to Diana, to persuade her to make a different arrangement for her son.

Dear Lord, that’s no sort of prayer, is it? Just a shopping list. Sorry about that. Look, I know you’re listening. I know you’re trying to get through to me, to tell me what to do. So. Right. I’ve stopped shouting at You. Now I’ll listen.

She kept on rocking little Frank, but made her mind go quiet . . . and receptive.

The grandmother clock nearby chimed the half hour. In half an hour she ought to be in the vestry with her choir robe on, holding her music, ready to go into church. In half an hour, the police might have reduced Neil to tears. Or a fit of rage, in which case he might well lash out, which would do him no good at all. Oh dear.

All her married life Ellie had put her husband and daughter first, fitting in her own needs around theirs. After he died, she’d found other needs to fill her life with: working for the church was only one of them, though an important one. She’d made new friends such as Kate and Armand next door, and Felicity. She’d spent a lot more time with her aged Aunt Drusilla and Roy. She’d enjoyed it. She’d also enjoyed the feeling that she could be of use to other people. It made her feel, well, important. And valued.

Everyone needed to feel valued, didn’t they?

Diana had continued to demand special treatment, since her father died, for herself and for little Frank. Mostly Ellie had been able to fend Diana off, and although it had sometimes been inconvenient, Ellie had been happy enough to look after little Frank as required. She couldn’t honestly say it had always been a pleasure, even though she loved him dearly. The fact was that he wasn’t a particularly loving child. Or even a really nice child.

She stopped that thought from going any farther. He was what he was, a product of a selfish mother, and a loving but perhaps slightly weak father. His stepmother had drummed some manners into him, and her loving care was slowly improving his manners.

Ellie could cope, more or less, with the pull of family loyalties versus that of friends. But when they clashed, as they did now . . . oh boy!

She really couldn’t decide what to do. Of course, she ought to concentrate on the little boy, but at the expense of everyone else? There were some very hurt people out there, relying on her to do this and that. Maybe some of the things they wanted her to do — like serving coffee after the service — were not that important. But others — such as keeping Neil on an even keel — were very important.

More important than soothing Frank?

She wasn’t sure.

Equally important? Yes. Definitely.

So how to do both?

Little Frank unstuck himself from round her neck, and clambered off her lap. ‘I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?’

At the same time the front-door bell rang, sharply, twice. It was Kate, carrying her bulge before her, as well-groomed as if she’d spent the morning in a beauty parlour instead of dealing with her toddler. With a big smile on her face.

‘I’ve sent Armand off with Catriona to have a second breakfast at the coffee shop. She can play with their toys, and he can read the paper in peace. So I’m all yours for an hour. What would you like me to do first?’

* * *

He stood at the window, gently tipping himself backwards and forwards in Russell’s shoes. Comfortable shoes, they hardly pinched at all, nothing to bother about. He’d been surprised at how comfortable good shoes could be. He’d worn nothing but trainers for ever, usually until they were cracked across the sole and letting the water in. A good shoe made you stand tall. Made you feel different. Russell’s clothes fitted him well enough, too, once he’d put them through the washing machine. A trifle on the tight side, but that was fashionable now, wasn’t it?

He was keeping the Baxi fire going all the time in this cold weather. It was a bit old-fashioned, but it heated the front room and gave him plenty of hot water as well. It was useful in other ways, too. He’d burned all traces of Lee’s identity on it, and his old clothes, too. Bye bye, supermarket. Bye bye, little wifey with her incessant whine for money.

It was pleasant, being Russell.