THIRTY-FOUR

Corinne was back. ‘Oh, Jane, he wants a divorce. Gerard wants a divorce. Barnaby says he’s got a girlfriend and she’s called Fiona. Is it a Scottish name? Barnaby says—’

‘Come inside.’ Jane was tired, and she wanted to talk to Willa, but it would have to wait. ‘Now, start at the beginning. You’ve been in touch with Gerard, have you?’

‘He phoned. He said he was sorry, but he needed to make some arrangements. Some arrangements! He asked what was going to happen to Noel’s house. He said ...’

‘Slow down, dear, at least it sounds as though he’s prepared to help.’

‘I don’t want his help.’ Her voice was steely. ‘I hate him. I only married him because ... I can’t remember. He’s never been any fun. She’s welcome to him. I’ve consulted a solicitor and I’m going to fight to keep the house and Barnaby can move in with me. He’ll be going to university but they still need somewhere to come home to, don’t they?’

‘They do.’ Jane wanted to congratulate her, but her newly found resolve was likely to be fragile.

‘He’s called Nigel. My solicitor. He’s about forty and I think he’s single – he hasn’t got a wedding ring – and he’s got such nice fair hair. With fair hair, you can’t really tell if there’s any grey, can you? Anyway, I’m putting my trust in him. Actually I might invite him to the house for a drink. Are you allowed to invite your solicitor?’ She was holding her neck as if it was the only way she could get the words out. ‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing?’

‘I do.’

‘It’s not that I’m not still grief-stricken about Noel, but you have to move on, don’t you?’

‘You do.’

The silence that followed was a little oppressive. Corinne fiddled with a strap on one of her high-heeled shoes. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, the day it happened, when I was on the way to the lingerie party I saw Dave. He didn’t see me but ...’

‘Are you sure? I think he had to attend an auction. Although I’m not certain what time it was or where it was being held.’

Corinne frowned. ‘He didn’t like Noel. Partly the loft conversion, but there was something else. When I saw him, he looked quite angry.’

‘I’d put it out of your mind and concentrate on ... on your arrangements. Your solicitor.’

‘If he was married he’d have a ring. Do you think he would? Some men don’t like jewellery. Are wedding rings jewellery?’

‘Time to phone him and make another appointment. Off you go.’ Jane guided her through the front door, waited a few moments, then set off for number thirty-four.

A dog-eared notice said the bell was broken. Jane knocked and a faint voice asked who it was.

‘It’s me. Jane.’

‘Hang on.’ The voice was only a few feet away.

Jane waited, gazing all about. A deflated football lay beside some flower pots and a plastic water pistol. No, not a pistol, an AK47, designed to drench its victim to the skin.

‘Come in.’ Willa’s hair was not so much poodle – more scarecrow – and she was wearing an unflattering all-in-one outfit, royal blue with a pattern of white polar bears. ‘Is it about the classes? I know, you can’t work miracles. I’m just grateful you’ve continued as long as you have. Oh, no, it’s about your friend. Arthur told me. I’m so sorry. If I’d known ...’

‘He’s a very thoughtful boy.’

‘Is he?’

Junk mail, shoes, discarded books, a broken umbrella. Willa led her through to the back, past a sinkful of washing-up, the remains of some cold pasta, and a bunch of bananas with blackened skins. Not very hygienic, particularly for a doctor’s house. Jane was surprised none of the family had succumbed to food poisoning but presumably they had built up immunity.

‘I do hope Arthur didn’t exhaust you. He can be quite rude, and moody, but ...’

‘Not the Arthur I know. He’s charming. I’m very fond of him.’

‘Are you? He likes you too, says you’re very perceptive. Perceptive! The words they come out with. We’ll sit in the conservatory, it’s tidier.’

Jane chose a basket chair, a mistake since it creaked if you moved a muscle. Not that Willa would notice. She was walking up and down, happily oblivious to the fact that Jane had seen the conservatory before, from her view in the garden. Had the teacher’s outfit been thrown away? The handcuffs were back behind the jars of herbs and spices while Jane decided how best to dispose of them.

‘I still can’t believe it, Jane.’

‘I’m sorry? Oh, you mean, poor Noel.’

‘It was an accident, wasn’t it? You don’t think ... no, it can’t have been. We were so close. Sometimes ... well, you knew him quite well, didn’t you ... he could be quite ... not deliberately hurtful, just tactless. You know how he loved to joke. Anyway, I’d never have harmed a hair on his head.’

The lady doth protest too much, methinks. ‘I wanted to talk about Arthur, Willa.’

‘Yes, I knew he must have done something. Did he give you the money? If he kept it for himself—’

‘He didn’t. The reason I’m here, he’s convinced you want him to follow in his father’s footsteps.’ She paused to make sure she had Willa’s full attention. ‘But he says he has a dislike of blood.’

‘Blood?’ Willa sat down heavily.

‘And illnesses. I said I was sure you’d understand. Teenage boys are traditionally incapable of voicing their worries and sometimes it’s easier to talk to a ... to someone outside the family.’

Willa’s face flushed scarlet. She thought Jane was interfering, had influenced her son, turned him against his chosen profession. She had a temper and if Jane was not careful she would lose it. In the lane at the back of the houses, someone was calling to a child. Not Tricia Tidewell – the voice was far too reasonable. Then a dog barked and Jane took it as her cue to speak again.

‘Talk to him, Willa. He’s afraid you and Brian will be angry.’

‘I had such high hopes.’ Willa sat down. She had slumped in her chair like a popped balloon. ‘Not an artist.’

‘No, not an artist, although it’s a shame he had to give up painting and drawing. Computer science I think. I’ve looked it up and it’s a very reputable subject. He wants to work in the games industry.’

‘The what?’

‘People who design computer games. And you can work in films too, I believe. Computer-generated images. Arthur’s educated me on the subject ... Were you asleep? Did I wake you?’

Willa ran her fingers through her hair, what was left of it. ‘Noel’s death ... it was such a shock. I was so upset. Was it suicide, Jane? He didn’t love that woman. It was all a terrible mistake. If you’d seen how worried he was. I tried to help but ... oh, Jane, your friend, was it sudden?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Her heart, was it?’

‘A stroke. Why didn’t you want Brian to know about the tuition?’

‘Oh that. He thinks I’m too pushy, a pushy parent, that’s what they’re called, but Arthur would make such a good doctor, a consultant, not a GP, and you have to get three ‘A’s and he wasn’t doing his school work, just playing games on his computer. Brian thinks I did it.’

She should have said “did what?” Instead she was silent.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘I did. This has something to do with your friendship with Noel?’

‘I loved him.’

‘I see. And Brian thinks you pushed him off the balcony?’

‘You’d guessed.’

‘No one pushed him, Willa, he lost his balance.’ On her way to Willa’s, Jane had been wondering why Corinne had only now remembered seeing Dave on the afternoon of the accident. A way of trying to incriminate him? Of protecting herself?

‘I expect you think Brian’s the easy-going type,’ Willa was saying. ‘He’s jealous, possessive, always been the same. He said he was miles away that afternoon, having a walk but ... I blame that Corinne.’ Willa’s hands were tightly clasped. ‘People think she’s so ... I tell you something, Jane, she’s not the air-head she likes to make out. Scheming, that’s what she is. She wormed her way into Noel’s life and forced him to ... classic.’ Her face was contorted with fury. ‘Made sure her husband found out what was going on so Noel felt obliged to take her in.’

‘That doesn’t sound like Noel.’

‘Oh, you didn’t know him like I did. He was kind. And sensitive. He hid that side of himself but the two of us – we confided in each other. He understood, hated hurting people. I don’t know what I’ll do without him. If you ask me, he’d had enough of Corinne and was planning to kick her out so she .’ Willa flopped forward, bumping her head on a bamboo table. ‘Oh, Jane, it’s all so awful. I loved him and if it hadn’t been for Corinne .’

‘Arthur, Willa. You must talk to him. About his school work and his plans for the career he wants to follow. There are university courses ... Willa?’

‘Shall I tell the police – about Corinne?’

‘No.’

‘But why should she get away with it?’

Jane rose from her creaking chair and stood, looking out at the overgrown garden. No sign of Rousseau. That was something. ‘I told Arthur I’d talk to you, Willa, and I also told him I was sure you’d understand. Don’t let me down.’

Jane expected an angry response, but Willa was beaten, done in. ‘They say grief makes you lose your mind.’

‘You haven’t lost yours, Willa, but if you knew Noel so well, you must be aware that he liked to take risks, cavorting about, swinging on scaffolding and the like.’

‘I was down at the shopping centre when it happened. I bought a pair of shoes, and a swimming costume. Swimming’s good for you. And two scarves and a pair of those knickers that hold in your stomach. You’re sure that’s what happened?’

‘Certain.’

‘In that case it won’t matter if I tell you about Brian’s boots. He said he’d been for a long walk, walked across a muddy field, but the mud was from our garden. I saw him stamping about in the flower bed. He was lying, Jane, about his walk, and it’s my fault because ...’

‘Don’t give it another thought.’ Jane had adopted her head-of-department voice, and Willa responded like a child, glad someone else was going to take responsibility for its ill-advised behaviour.

‘No, all right. No, I won’t. And I’ll talk to Arthur. Oh, I think I owe you some money.’

‘Don’t worry about that, but if you’re agreeable I believe it would be beneficial to continue with the tuition for a week or two, just to make sure he gains grades that allow him to stay on for his A levels.’

‘Yes, yes of course, whatever you think best. Thank you so much. For everything. I’ve got one of my heads so I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a bit.’

‘Good idea.’ Jane let herself out of the house with what would have been a sigh of relief. But for the story about Brian’s muddy walking boots.