A Death in the Family (8 page)

‘Oh I am – you can’t imagine!’

‘It must have been very hard for you, all those years, not seeing him.’

‘It broke my heart.’

‘But Janet,’ I began awkwardly, ‘if Bernard was so terrible, why didn’t you leave him? You were obviously a good school secretary, you could have got a job.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t explain,’ she said. ‘I knew logically that it would be possible – Christine was grown up, at university, she’d be all right, and, anyway, she was her father’s favourite – but I just couldn’t. Partly, I suppose because Bernard had undermined my confidence – I didn’t quite believe that I
could
do anything on my own.’

‘Nonsense!’

She smiled sadly. ‘True, though. But, the other thing was I knew he’d come after me and find me and make me go back to him. Not for love – I don’t believe he ever felt that for me – but I knew that he couldn’t bear to think that one of his possessions had got away from him.’

‘Possessions?’

‘Perhaps that’s not quite the right word – I don’t know, though. What’s that word they used to use? Chattels, that’s it, I was one of his chattels, part of the furnishings, but
his
, belonging to him.’

‘That’s terrible!’

‘It was,’ she said simply. The clock struck the half hour and she got to her feet. ‘Is that the time? I have to go. I mustn’t keep Christine waiting.’ The old,
anxious note was back in her voice. ‘Do you mind if I ring for a taxi?’

‘Don’t be silly – I’ll take you. But, look, if the police haven’t finished at the cottage, you must both come back here. I insist.’

‘That’s very kind of you – we’ll see what Christine says.’

I was sad to hear the old dull, indecisive tone and, as I got ready to go out, I wondered if Janet was going to exchange one sort of tyranny for another.

When we got to the cottage the constable was just taking down the police scene of crime tapes. As we went up the path Bob Harris came out of the front door.

‘Is it all right for us to go in now?’ I asked. ‘Mrs Prior’s daughter is coming to stay with her for a few days – to help with arrangements and so forth.’

‘Yes, that’s fine, Mrs Malory. They’ve finished in there.’ He turned to Janet. ‘You’ll need to get that smashed glass replaced in the kitchen, but everything else is all right.’

‘It’s all right,’ I said, as Janet gave me a helpless look. ‘I’ll phone Taviscombe Glass, they’ll send someone out.’

‘Chief Inspector Eliot was saying that he’d like a word with you both sometime soon,’ Bob said to me. ‘We’re dealing with it here in Taviscombe, but he’s taking an interest, as you might say.’

‘Yes, of course. Janet,’ I said, ‘you go in, I’ll follow you in a moment.’

She went obediently indoors. Bob looked after her and shook his head.

‘Poor lady, she’s taking it very hard.’

‘Yes,’ I said mendaciously, ‘she’s upset, of course. Have you had the pathology report? Do you know when he died?’

‘Not yet. We’ll keep you informed and about the inquest too, of course. It’s always very awkward – the family want to know about arranging the funeral and so on.’

‘Yes. I’m glad Mrs Prior’s daughter is coming. I believe she’s very efficient, so she’ll be able to see to everything.’

‘Glad to hear it. I always say it’s good to have your family around you at a time like this. Well, I must be off. I expect the chief inspector will be in touch with you himself, since he’s by way of being a friend, as you might say.’

‘Yes, he’s married to my goddaughter and we’ve known each other for a long time.’

‘Well, that’s all right then,’ Bob said. ‘I’ll be off then.’

‘Goodbye. Give my regards to your father. I hope he’s keeping well?’

‘A bit of arthritis and he says he’s getting slow, but his vegetable garden’s still a picture. You should see his cauliflowers. Perfect. Very difficult to grow, a perfect cauli is.’

He waved cheerfully and went off to the waiting police car.

It was with some reluctance that I went into the cottage. Although the central heating had been left on there was a chill (possibly more imagined than actual) and a feeling of desolation, which I suppose was only natural given the circumstances. I felt that perhaps I shouldn’t have sent Janet in on her own, but I didn’t want her to be upset by talk of pathology reports and inquests. Though, as I considered it, I thought that she probably wouldn’t have been. I heard sounds from the kitchen and, glad not to have to confront the sitting room for a moment, I went in to find Janet at the sink, filling the kettle.

‘Thank goodness Christine isn’t here yet. I was so afraid I might have been keeping her waiting. I thought a cup of tea would be a good idea, do you think so?’

‘A very good idea,’ I said cheerfully. I looked at the broken glass in the back door. ‘I’d better go and phone the glass people. Do you think you could find a dustpan and brush and sweep up that glass while I’m doing it?’

‘Oh yes, of course. I can do that.’ She opened the cupboard under the sink. ‘There’s one here.’

‘Splendid,’ I said and went into the sitting room to make the phone call.

The room looked amazingly normal, given what had happened in it. The body had gone, of course, and as far as I could see, there were no blood stains – though I must confess I didn’t look too hard for
those. The room was cold, though – it wasn’t just my imagination – so I switched on the electric fire and the bright light of the coal-effect gave the room an air of spurious cheerfulness. I put the electric light on too, and, just for a moment, I was able to pretend this was just an ordinary room where nothing extraordinary had happened.

I went over to the telephone and picked up the receiver. On an impulse I dialled 1471. The remote, recorded female voice said, ‘You were called yesterday at 19.15 hours, the number was 01463 704709. Please press 3 if you wish to be connected.’ I scribbled the number down on the back of a leaflet by the phone and put it in my pocket. Then I got through to Taviscombe Glass and arranged for them to send someone straight away.

When I went back into the kitchen Janet had swept up the glass and was looking in one of the cupboards.

‘I’m looking for the biscuits,’ she said. ‘Christine will want something after her journey. I do hope biscuits will be enough – there isn’t any cake. Bernard ate the last of the Victoria sponge yesterday. I was going to get some more today. Oh dear!’ She stopped suddenly. ‘Oh dear, I
was
going to do some shopping today, there’s hardly any food in the place. Christine will want something to eat this evening…’

‘You can go out for a meal,’ I said. ‘She can hardly expect you to cook dinner here after what’s happened.’

‘I suppose so,’ Janet said doubtfully, ‘but she’s always said how inefficient I am. I mean she’s come all this way specially, when she’s so busy. I really ought to have thought…’

‘For goodness sake. Of course she should come, however busy she is – look at Luke, I’m sure he’s a lot busier – and anyway, it’s her father who has died so it’s only right she should be here. Surely she would want to come for her own sake, as well as supporting you.’

‘You’re probably right.’ Janet sounded unconvinced.

‘After all,’ I said, ‘from what you’ve told me she was her father’s favourite, she must have been fond of him.’

‘I suppose so,’ Janet said, ‘but you can never tell with Christine, she’s always kept her feelings to herself. Oh, I know what she thinks of me, and Luke too, but I never knew if she was really fond of Bernard or if she was just playing up to him because she was jealous of the way he concentrated so much on Luke, that is when he was young, before – you know…’

‘But what about her husband, Jonathan, isn’t it? Surely she must have feelings for him, else she wouldn’t have married him.’

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but I often wonder if she doesn’t despise him too, like she does Luke and me.’

‘Surely not. What’s he like?’

‘Jonathan? Very nice, always very polite to me. He’s successful in his job, they have a lovely home, all that, but it seems to me that he’s under Christine’s thumb all the time, doesn’t have a will of his own.’

‘Often really strong people need people like that…’

‘Like Bernard and me?’ Janet said, with a wry smile. ‘I don’t think it’s as bad as that, because he’s a man and he’s got a job and is out in the world, but, yes, I’ve seen the similarities and I’ve been sorry for him.’

‘I see.’

‘I know he’d have liked children,’ Janet went on, ‘but Christine wanted a career – said there was plenty of time, and I suppose there is – well, not plenty of time, but enough – but I don’t think she really wants any. They’d be a distraction, you see, they’d take at least part of Jonathan’s attention from her.’

There was the sound of a car drawing up outside.

‘Oh, that’ll be the glass people,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and let them in.’

But when I opened the front door I saw that it was Christine. Quite different from her brother – tall, with dark hair worn shorter than his, she obviously resembled Bernard while he took after Janet, not only, I imagined, in looks.

‘Mrs Malory?’ she asked and her voice was stronger and less pleasing. ‘I’m Christine Taylor.’

‘Yes, of course, do come in. Your mother’s been expecting you.’

I led the way into the kitchen where Janet was standing by the table, her eyes fixed anxiously on the door.

‘Hello, dear,’ she said, ‘it was so good of you to come when I know how busy you are.’ Christine took off her driving gloves, rather in the manner of someone rolling up their sleeves to perform some difficult task.

‘Right, then,’ she said, ‘you’d better tell me what’s been going on.’

‘Well, your father – well, you know about that – all very distressing – the police have been so kind – and, of course, Sheila – it’s all right to stay here, they said, that is, if you don’t mind – I’ve given them a statement, but I think they want to talk to me again…’

Her voice trailed off and Christine, who had been listening to these disjointed remarks with growing impatience said, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mother, pull yourself together, do
try
to be coherent.’ She turned to me and said, ‘Perhaps
you
could tell me exactly what the situation is.’

‘Your mother has been very upset,’ I said coldly, ‘and under a great deal of strain. Not surprisingly, given the circumstances.’

She seemed a little taken aback by my manner, but pulled herself together and said in a more conciliatory tone, ‘Yes, of course, I understand that.
Still, if you could kindly give me the details.’

I told her what had happened as concisely as possible, just the facts, since I didn’t think she’d want to know about feelings and reactions.

‘So,’ she said when I’d finished, ‘you don’t have any real information about the post-mortem or the inquest, so I can’t make the funeral arrangements yet.’

‘We may know more,’ I said, ‘when we go to the police station, tomorrow, perhaps. I gather they would like to see us again.’

‘I can’t see why that’s necessary if you’ve already given statements. No, I think I’d better go down to the police station myself now and sort this out.’

‘I don’t think that would be much use,’ I said firmly. ‘Chief Inspector Eliot won’t be there – he’s based in Taunton and he has overall control of the case. I don’t think Sergeant Harris will be able to tell you anything more than I have.’

For a moment I thought that she was going to go anyway, but then she turned to her mother and said, ‘Well, it can’t be helped. It just means that I’ll have to stay another day.’

The doorbell rang again.

‘That will be the people to fit a new pane of glass in the door,’ I said. ‘I’d better let them in.’

‘I’ll take my case upstairs,’ Christine said, then pausing at the door, she said to me, ‘Make sure you get an invoice from them – the owner of the cottage
will have to pay for that. He can claim it on his insurance.’

It was quite a relief after that to chat to the young man putting in the new glass.

‘Bit of a mess,’ he said cheerfully, getting out his tools. ‘Burglary was it?’

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ I asked, avoiding the question. ‘I’m just about to make one.’

The kettle that Janet had put on was still warm and didn’t take long to boil. I poured a cup for the young man and put the teapot and the rest of the tea things onto a tray and took it into the sitting room. Janet got to her feet.

‘Oh dear,
I
was going to do that, wasn’t I? Thank you so much, Sheila,’ she said vaguely.

I poured the tea for them and took my own cup back into the kitchen. I told myself that they’d want to be alone to talk things over, but, of course, really it was because I couldn’t bear to listen to Christine bullying her mother.

Back in the kitchen the glass had been fitted and the young man was drinking his tea.

‘You’ve been quick,’ I said.

‘Straightforward job,’ he said. ‘No problem.’ He put down his cup. ‘Thanks for the tea. I’ve left the invoice on the table – it’s a holiday cottage, isn’t it? So you’ll be wanting to send that to the landlord. Cheerio.’

As I saw him out I considered how much less irritating that information was coming from him
than from Christine. I went back into the kitchen and took my time drinking my own cup of tea and washing up the two cups. When I could spin these tasks out no longer I went back reluctantly into the sitting room.

‘Well now,’ I said brightly, ‘is there anything I can do?’

‘There’s not much anyone can do,’ Christine said, ‘until we get more information.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I can see it’s difficult for you.’

‘I’ll just go and see if the bed’s made up in the other bedroom,’ Janet said, ‘and if the heating’s on.’

She got up and went out of the room quickly, as though escaping, which I suppose she was. I sat down on the sofa – I noticed that neither of them had taken the chair Bernard had been found in – and said, ‘I’m so sorry about your father, it must be dreadful for you – the way he died…’

‘I imagine it was a burglar,’ she said. ‘Presumably he broke in and my father confronted him, which is what he would have done, and the man panicked and hit him over the head.’

‘That’s what it looks like,’ I agreed.

‘Well, it must have been what happened,’ she said irritably, ‘it’s highly unlikely anyone would have wanted to murder him.’

‘No, of course not,’ I said, ‘and down here, too, where he didn’t really know anyone.’

Christine gave me a sharp glance as if picking up the ambivalence of my remark.

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘I was very fond of my father,’ she went on, ‘he was always an inspiration to me. He was a fine headmaster, his school was in the top division of all the school league tables.’

‘How splendid,’ I said inadequately.

‘Mother never really appreciated what a remarkable man he was,’ she went on, ‘but she was devoted to him. Indeed I don’t know how she’s going to get on without him, and I’m afraid my life is very full so that I can’t give her the attention she will need. I can see it’s going to be quite a problem.’

‘Luke seems very devoted to her,’ I ventured. ‘He came down earlier today to see how she was.’

‘Oh, Luke,’ she said dismissively. ‘He’s always fussing about her. You may have heard the story. Very unpleasant. I don’t say my father was right, turning him out as he did, but he was a man with very strong principles and I can see his point of view, even if it’s not one that’s currently acceptable. Luke was a great disappointment to him in many ways.’

‘He seems to have made a success of his restaurant,’ I said.

‘Oh, cooking – that’s hardly a proper career, is it?’

‘A lot of people think so nowadays,’ I said.

‘Anyway I knew that Mother had been seeing him. Of course I didn’t tell Father, he would have been very upset and, although I didn’t approve of the deceit, I didn’t see any real harm in it. The only
thing was Luke kept ringing me up, asking me if she was all right – very tiresome. Actually, he rang me yesterday evening, most inconvenient.’