Murder in House

‘Someone in trouble.’

‘Gran, what do you mean, it doesn’t snow in London? Of course it does. When I got up this morning everything was white all over—’

‘Quiet, Frank,’ said his mother. ‘I’m speaking.’

Thomas appeared from his study, rubbing his eyes. ‘Hello, hello? What’s all this then?’

Frank launched himself at Thomas, was caught up in the air, screaming with laughter, and whirled round. Frank approved of Thomas.

‘Mother, you were expecting us, weren’t you?’ Diana shed her expensive black coat that was rather too fussy around the collar. ‘I did say four o’clock.’

‘We got held up. Diana, I didn’t know you had keys to the front door. Have you had a set specially made? They cost a bomb.’

‘Oh, I’m using Rose’s keys. She never goes out now, so it seems—’

‘What?’ Ellie felt her temper rising. ‘You had no right. I know she hasn’t been up to much lately, but she’ll pick up again soon and . . . Diana, you’ll let me have her keys right now. She’ll need them again soon, and I need them this minute because you forgot to turn the mortise lock.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘The girl let herself out, which she couldn’t have done if you’d remembered to use the second key after you came in.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a fusspot. You know perfectly well that Rose is well past doing the shopping and running this house. If she’s even stirred herself to make you a cup of tea this last week, I’d be surprised. No one but you thinks she’s going to see out the winter and—’

Thomas took Frank’s hand and led him to the stairs. ‘Let’s go on a cat hunt, shall we, Frank? Midge hasn’t shown up for his lunch yet. Do you think he’s gone on the prowl in the attics?’

Frank trod the steps beside Thomas but looked stricken. ‘Rose isn’t going to die, is she? Everyone dies around here.’

Frank lived with his father and his father’s second family during the week, where he led a stable, structured life enlivened by two little half-sisters whom he adored and who adored him. At weekends Diana was supposed to have him, but often didn’t, and at least twice a week Frank found himself dumped on Ellie and Thomas. All three of them enjoyed these visits, but Ellie fancied that Diana’s restlessness and unreliable behaviour were beginning to undermine the little boy’s sense of security.

The death of his great-great-aunt, Miss Drusilla Quicke, was the first time Frank had experienced such a loss, and he’d taken it harder than anyone had expected. It wasn’t surprising that he was also anxious about Rose, who had cuddled and spoilt him from babyhood.

‘Rose is all right, but she’s not feeling too good at the moment. This cold, you know. You haven’t had it yet, have you?’ Thomas’s voice faded as he led Frank through the door on the landing that led to the top storey of unused and unheated attic rooms.

Ellie opened her mouth to call after them that it was no good looking for Midge the cat up there. Midge could open any door that could be pushed open, or that had a handle that could be pulled down, but the door to the attic rooms was a knob and, so far at least, Midge had failed to master it. Thomas knew that, of course. He must be taking Frank out of the way so that the two women could talk in peace.

So Ellie shut her mouth and followed Diana into the big sitting room at the back of the house, where she set about drawing long velvet curtains to shut out the darkness outside. She hated these early dark nights. The calendar said the nights were getting shorter, but no one seemed to have told the sun about it.

Diana ran a finger across the mantelpiece to check for dust, but there wasn’t any. Rose might not be up to running the house at the moment, but there were a couple of efficient Polish girls who came twice a week to take care of the cleaning.

Frowning, Diana subsided into Ellie’s high-backed chair by the fireplace. ‘Aren’t we to have any tea, after I’ve taken the trouble to visit you?’

‘We were delayed by our visitor. I’ll make it in a minute.’ Ellie switched on sidelights and removed the layer of Sunday papers which Thomas had strewn on the floor around his big reclining chair.

Ellie was worried about Ursula. Would the girl have tried to go back to the church? But she had no key to get in. No, she’d have gone home, wherever that might be. Or back to university, perhaps?

Diana sniffed. ‘Some waif and stray demanding a handout, I suppose. How much did she con you out of?’

‘Nothing. May I have Rose’s keys, please?’

‘In a minute. Now, Mother, before the others come back, we really must have a talk.’

‘Keys first. Talk afterwards.’

With some reluctance Diana handed over two keys on a ribbon; a ribbon which usually hung around Rose’s neck. Ellie was annoyed with herself because she hadn’t spotted they were missing. She laid them down on the occasional table beside her. ‘I’ll make some tea now, shall I?’

‘Won’t Rose . . .?’

‘She’s having a little nap.’

‘She should be in a home.’

Ellie hated arguments. ‘Rose stays as long as she wants to. She’s looked after us for years, and now it’s our turn to look after her. Besides, she’s bound to pick up as the weather improves. So, what do you want to talk about? Money? I thought you and Denis were doing well with your estate agency.’

‘Of course we were, but nothing’s moving at the moment, and how we’re going to manage long term if this recession continues . . .’

‘I suppose you’ll go in for renting out properties nobody can afford to buy.’

‘Renting – especially short term – is a lot of work and Denis says we’ve got to think outside the box in case this recession lasts much longer.’ Her hands twisted in her lap. Was she nervous? ‘To put it mildly, we have a cash flow problem, especially since Denis put his boys into private schools last term.’

Ellie tried to work out how much that would be costing him. While she would be the first to admit that mental arithmetic was hardly her strong point, she didn’t like the total that popped into her mind.

Diana’s partner in the 2Ds Agency was a steely-smiling, ambitious and ruthless individual. Harder than Diana. Denis must be getting anxious. Even desperate.

‘So what is Denis proposing to do? Put the boys back into state schools? Surely that would be the sensible thing to do.’ Denis would hate the loss of face involved in taking such a step. Denis was pushing Diana to find another solution to his problem. So what would that be? Ellie had a horrid feeling that somehow or other she was going to be involved in sorting out Denis’s problems.

Diana got to her feet and prowled, not meeting her mother’s eye. ‘He thought – well, I thought, actually, that we should talk about my future. I have someone wanting to move into my flat so I wondered when you’d be able to let me have our old house. You did promise you’d transfer it to me when you moved into Great Aunt Drusilla’s place, and after all it will be mine when you die. I know the fire damage last year made it uninhabitable, but the redecorations must be nearly finished by now, and if they aren’t, I’m sure I could get them done more quickly and cheaply than you.’

Ellie considered what had been said, what had been twisted in Diana’s mind and what had been left unsaid. Ellie’s first husband had actually left the old house to her for life. After her death, half was hers to dispose of as she thought fit, and the other half would go to Diana. This was not precisely what Diana had said, but Ellie supposed it was near enough.

As to the matter of getting the house finished on time and within budget, Diana had cut corners when Aunt Drusilla had allowed her a trial period in which to manage some of her properties. If there was one thing Ellie had, sorrowfully, to admit, it was that Diana never seemed to learn by her mistakes, but went on her way regardless. Ellie hated to cross Diana twice in an afternoon, but it had to be done.

She steeled herself to give unwelcome news. ‘I did say that I would let you have the house, and I stand by my word. The redecorations are well under way. The work was put out to tender, and the insurance people agreed which quotes to accept. I’m not sure how long it will be before I can let you have the keys. Perhaps some weeks? I’ll enquire. Surely the buyer for your flat will wait? If not, perhaps you could move into a furnished flat somewhere for the time being?’

‘How soon?’

‘Three or four weeks, at a guess.’

Diana pulled a face. ‘While you’ve got the builders in, you might as well tell them to install a loft conversion.’

‘It’s a three-bedroomed semi, Diana. That’s what it was insured for, and that’s what you’ll get. Now, tea?’

Some time back she’d heard Thomas and Frank clattering down the polished wooden stairs, laughing and saying ‘Shush!’ to one another. Had they found Midge? Unlikely. So what had they been up to?

Diana said, ‘Well, don’t blame me if I’m forced to move in here with you.’

Ellie told herself not to scream. She took a deep breath, held it, let it out. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea, Diana.’

‘Why not? You’ve masses of room. I could move into your guest bedroom, which has a bathroom en suite. You’ve already allocated Frank a bedroom, a nice big one, for the odd nights he spends here. I won’t need a kitchen because I can use yours. Or, how about my moving into Rose’s part of the house? That’s self-contained, isn’t it, with its own door to the courtyard? She’s not exactly pulling her weight now, is she? Great Aunt left her well off. She can afford to go into a home, and the sooner the better. Or, if the worst comes to the worst, I could take over the attic floor. Plenty of space there.’

No way could Ellie cope with a bullying daughter under the same roof. She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. ‘There’s no heating up there.’

‘Put in storage heaters. Why not? It’s the perfect solution. I could let the old house out till the market improves, and when I leave you’d have a self-contained flat to rent out yourself. Perhaps with an outside staircase?’

Ellie got to her feet, trying to suppress her agitation. Help, Thomas! ‘No, Diana. Forget it.’

‘But you’ll hand over the old house to me straight away? I need to move at the end of next week, or even earlier. The decorating can be finished as and when.’

Was this blackmail? Probably. Ellie knew when she was beaten. ‘I’ll see what can be done. Shall we have tea now?’

Thomas and Frank were busily cooking in the kitchen, both inadequately covered with aprons. There was flour all over the big table and over Frank, as he pounded some greyish pastry into submission. Rose was there as well, sitting in a big chair at the end of the table and laughing at the two men’s antics. ‘Wouldn’t Miss Quicke have enjoyed this?’ Rose’s thinning hair was neatly brushed, the buttons on her dressing gown were all done up, she was wearing her bedroom slippers, and she looked more lively than she had done for many a day.

Frank waved floury hands in greeting. ‘Hi, Gran! Guess what we’ve been up to . . .? Ooops!’ He put his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide with laughter. ‘I nearly told, didn’t I? But it’s a secret!’

Thomas opened the oven to take out a baking tray covered with irregularly shaped biscuits, which he proceeded to transfer on to a wire cooling tray. ‘That’s it, my lad. Zip the mouth.’

Rose was on her feet, almost as spry as usual. ‘Tea for the workers, and juice for Frank. That is, if he’ll let me into his secret.’

‘I’m not telling anyone!’ shouted Frank. ‘Not Mummy, not Granny, not Rose, not anyone. I promised Grandpa!’ He turned a flour-spattered face up to Thomas. ‘I can call you Grandpa, can’t I?’

‘No, you can’t!’ Diana’s ferocity froze everyone in their places.

Thomas recovered first. ‘Frank, you can call me Thomas. All my friends call me Thomas.’ He rattled mugs on to the table. ‘Hot biscuits, anyone?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Diana, removing the apron from her son. ‘Look at you! I can’t turn my back for five minutes. Let’s get you cleaned up and returned to your father and stepmother, or you’ll be in dead trouble.’

Frank’s expression changed to one of endurance. ‘Maria says it’s all right for children to get dirty, so long as it comes off in the wash.’

‘She doesn’t have to do her laundry in a tiny flat with no drying facilities,’ said Diana, jerking him away from the table. ‘Oh, come along, do!’

‘We made the biscuits specially for you.’

‘Look at the time!’ Diana seized a cloth to work on his hands and face.

Ellie sampled a biscuit, which was surprisingly tasty. ‘Won’t you let him stay for tea?’ said Ellie. ‘These biscuits are delicious, Frank. Well done.’

‘Can I take some back for Daddy and Maria?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Diana, scrubbing his face. ‘They’ve got enough biscuits. Come along, now. Where did I leave my coat?’

Ellie put a couple of biscuits into a paper bag and, while Diana was donning her big coat in the hall, she slipped the bag into Frank’s hand and gave him a kiss.

It was only after Ellie had waved Diana’s car goodbye that Ellie realized Diana had bested her yet again. In the old days a Yale lock had been sufficient for the big old front door, but after a disturbing incident last year a mortise lock had been added, so you needed two keys to get in and out. Diana had let herself out in the usual way and turned the key in the mortise lock behind her as well. How had she managed to do that? There was only one answer, and Ellie didn’t like the sound of it.

She darted into the sitting room. Yes, Rose’s keys had disappeared from the table on which she’d left them. Diana must have waited till Ellie had left the room, and pocketed them again. The thought of Diana being able to enter the house at will was unnerving. With hindsight, Ellie told herself she ought to have put them straight into her pocket, or handbag.

And . . . horror of horrors . . . what had happened to the engagement ring Ursula had given her to return to her boyfriend? She’d had it in her hand when she’d heard Diana arrive. Then Frank had come charging at her, and . . . what had happened to the ring?

Thomas came out of the kitchen, carrying two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. ‘I’ve cleaned up the kitchen, the dishwasher’s doing its job, and Rose has gone to have a little nap after all that excitement. Don’t look so frazzled. Whatever Diana wants, it’s not the end of the world.’

She made herself smile. No, of course it wasn’t. But it was bad enough. She would have to tell him what Diana had threatened to do. But perhaps not tonight. Sunday was his day off and what a day it had been so far!

Anyway, judging by past behaviour, when she did tell him, he would only smile and say he trusted her to repel boarders. Faced with this latest threat of invasion, Ellie had to admit she cringed.

And what about the puzzle Ursula had set her?

‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’ They stored all old newspapers in a green plastic box for recycling, which was collected once a week by the council. Ellie usually remembered to pick up the newspapers from where Thomas had left them, but sometimes they lay unregarded under chairs and in the magazine rack for a couple of weeks until she had a good clear-out.

Ursula had spoken of an incident at a party in the new year, in which a man had died. If it had been local, it would have been reported in the local Gazette. Sometimes the pages of the Gazette were used to wrap bones and other food waste before they were put in the recycling box. Where to look first? There was a cache of Gazette papers on top of the fridge in the kitchen. She leafed through them. No. No mention of an accidental death in the last few weeks.

There was one issue missing; the one for the second Friday in the new year. Of course, that particular issue might already have been recycled. Ellie thought she might have seen a single copy somewhere . . . yes, it had drifted into Rose’s sitting room. Rose was dozing again, cosily ensconced in her big, high-backed chair, propped up with cushions and smiling in her sleep. Ellie retrieved the paper and made her way quietly back to the kitchen. She spread the paper out on the table.

There it was. ‘Tragedy at Top Venue.’ She scanned the paragraph. Not much information. A student called Lloyd had drunk too much at the Grand Opening of the stunning new block of flats on the North Circular called Prior’s Place and fallen from the top floor. Yes, yes . . . terrible accident, parents stricken. Presumably this was the death the girl had been referring to. Why had Ursula thought it was murder? There was no picture of the deceased, but there was one of the building concerned. Something futuristic with penthouse balconies.

She scissored out the paragraph, thinking she’d come across a mention of the building somewhere else recently. It would come to her in due course. It looked expensive. Flats for those with a fortune to spare, but none for the deserving poor.

She tucked the cutting between the glass doors of the spice cabinet, along with a card for a dentist’s appointment and a programme for local events they might like to see. She sighed, thinking of everything she’d have to do before she could get her old house handed over to Diana and, hopefully, get her daughter off her back.

Thomas called out from the sitting room. ‘Hurry up. Your tea’s getting cold.’

He’d pulled forward the little table that stood in front of their two big chairs, and was working his way through his pile of biscuits. ‘These aren’t half bad. Have one?’

He really ought to go on a diet. She ought to as well, for her skirts had begun to feel a trifle too snug since Christmas. She’d think about that tomorrow. ‘We won’t need any supper after this. What did you do with little Frank in the attics?’

‘I spotted an old rocking horse up there when I was putting the Christmas decorations away. It lacks a mane and tail, but I thought he might like it, and he did. I’ll get it restored for him, if you think it’s a good idea.’

She nodded, smiling, wondering which child it had been bought for in the house’s long history. For Frank, her first husband, perhaps? He’d been brought up by his aunt Drusilla in this house, but he’d never mentioned having a rocking horse. Perhaps it had been Drusilla’s? Ellie shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Miss Quicke riding a rocking horse. Not her style. If it had been an abacus? Maybe.

‘Blissful Sunday,’ said Thomas, stretching arms and legs. ‘No emails. No visits to make. No phone calls. Time apart.’ He reached across to pat her hand. ‘A nice quiet evening with you. What more could a man ask?’

This from a man who’d gone out into the cold that morning to take a service for a friend, and to save a soul. Possibly Ursula didn’t think of herself as having a soul, since she didn’t really believe in God. Well, he’d rescued a maiden in distress. At least, Ellie presumed Ursula was a maiden. She was certainly in distress. One didn’t talk about maidenhood any more, did one?

She relaxed, washing down her third biscuit with her cuppa. She told herself, I Must Not Worry. It May Never Happen.

Thomas was fidgeting. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she’d noticed that just occasionally he had bouts of fidgeting, even sometimes of pacing around the ground floor as if looking for something. Maybe he needed more exercise? Perhaps that was it. But she wouldn’t encourage him to go out for a long walk in this weather. Now he said, ‘Is there anything on the telly, or do you want to tell me about it?’

So she told him Ursula’s story as far as she understood it. ‘One accidental death which might be a murder, one broken engagement, one disappearance. The papers didn’t say it was murder; they said it was an accident. It happened at the new block of flats on the North Circular, Prior’s Place. It seems to ring a bell.’

‘Isn’t that something your cousin Roy got involved in?’

Of course. Roy was a talented, hard-working architect with a loving younger wife, a baby girl on whom he doted, and absolutely no sense where money was concerned. His unmarried mother, Miss Quicke, had been unable to keep the boy when he was born, and had given him up for adoption. Roy had only traced her a couple of years ago, since when she’d helped finance him in one or two projects, while steering him away from others which she considered doubtful.

Once she died, Roy had turned to Ellie for funds to put into the development at Prior’s Place. The project had looked all right on paper, but Miss Quicke hadn’t liked it, so Ellie hadn’t been easy in her mind about it either, and had also ended up refusing to help him.

She took the last biscuit, and sighed. ‘Roy and money do not make a perfect marriage. And talking of marriage, I seem to have mislaid the ring which Ursula wanted me to return to her boyfriend. At least, I think he was her boyfriend. You haven’t seen it?’

His mind was on other things. ‘I suppose I could ask the vicar if he knew the lad who died?’

Ellie felt a sneeze coming on. She tried to remember the name of the boy the ring was to be returned to. Daniel something? She could, she supposed, contact him and confess that she’d lost the ring which Ursula had given her. Or she could do nothing. Presumably he wasn’t expecting it? Or was he? She sneezed. Thomas handed her a box of tissues. She used one, thinking she really preferred cotton hankies which were kinder to her nose.

A spot of prayer was in order, perhaps. A trivial matter. She really didn’t want to bother Himself with it. On the other hand, remembering the other things the girl had said: a murder, a broken engagement, a disappearance? All very odd. Probably Ursula had been exaggerating as the young tended to do. Ellie told herself that she hadn’t exactly promised the girl that she’d do anything for her.

But all the same . . . Well, dear Father, how about it? If the girl wasn’t making it all up – which she could have been doing – but . . . well, you do see what I mean, don’t you? I haven’t a clue how to . . . Oh dear, another sneeze was coming on.

She dived into her pocket for a hankie and felt something round and smooth in one corner. The ring.

She took it out and looked at it. Thomas was smiling, content. Midge, their marauding ginger tom, had arrived from nowhere and was balanced on Thomas’s ample frontage. Where had Midge been all day? He hadn’t touched the bowl of food she’d left for him in the kitchen, but he looked well pleased with life. As did Thomas.

‘All right, dear heart?’

She smiled and nodded, slipping the ring on to her little finger. She would return it tomorrow.

A woman replied. Middle-aged. Brisk. ‘Is that Daniel? I’m afraid she’s already gone back to uni. Didn’t she tell you she was going back early?’

‘No, she didn’t. I’ve tried to get her on her mobile, but can’t get through.’

‘She dropped her mobile and broke it, clumsy girl. I told her to reverse the charges when she rings home, till she gets herself another. I expect she’ll let you have her new number when she gets it.’

Silence. ‘Well, when you speak to her, will you tell her I called?’