Murder in House (15 page)

Ellie allowed herself to grin. ‘Spoils for the victor? Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate it.' But as she relaxed, other thoughts crowded in on her. ‘Oh, I'm so sorry, you should be working on your paper for the weekend and you've been rushing around after me, instead. And there's Roy, and Felicity's so worried about him, and if he's coming round tomorrow, what am I going to say to him? And then there's Ursula. I went to see DI Willis, but . . . Thomas, I should be doing all sorts of things, ringing up people . . . Thomas, calm me down. What do I do first?'

‘Eat, my little pigeon. Soup first. Don't talk. When you've cleared the plates, then you can tell me all, and we'll decide what – if anything – you need to do tonight.'

Good advice, if she could have taken it. She started on the soup, but her brain was whirring with doubts and worries. ‘What of your day?'

‘I've printed off the paper I'm giving, and it's all right, I think. And the magazine? Submissions include something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.'

‘How blue? Can you print it?'

‘Eggshell blue. And no, I can't. Sometimes I worry that I might be losing my ability to be shocked by human nature. Sometimes I think plagiarism offends me more than the occasional swear word.'

‘Thus speaks a good editor. But copying someone else's work is stealing, and it's right to be offended by it.'

He sighed, passing her the plate of sandwiches. ‘Surely at my age I ought to be past getting angry at such things?'

She laughed. She was surprised at herself for laughing, after all that had happened. A gust of hail struck the windows, and both glanced towards it.

Thomas said, ‘Diana can take refuge in her office, if the worst comes to the worst.'

‘In the office she'll have the keys to all the houses they have on their books to sell. I'm not sorry I threw her out,' said Ellie, ready for a fight if he disagreed.

‘I must admit to enjoying that moment too. I only wish I'd been a fly on the wall when Maria worsted Diana. You'll want to discuss it at your usual property meeting tomorrow, anyway. Is it one of the ones that Kate comes to?'

Ellie took the last sandwich, sighing with content. ‘I love you, Thomas.'

‘Ditto,' he said. ‘And when you've finished making your phone calls, perhaps we can have an early night.'

Ellie grinned. One of Thomas's ‘early nights' meant they'd sleep well.

Ellie did not want to think about Diana, but couldn't stop doing so. Where had she spent the night? Had Ellie's actions been sensible, or sinful? On the whole she still felt pleased with herself, but with an undercurrent of guilt.

Turning her mind from an unproductive debate with herself over Diana, Ellie found herself worrying about Rose's gentle decline. If she were to follow Aunt Drusilla into the grave . . . no, it didn't bear thinking about.

Ellie psyched herself up to enter the kitchen and found Rose already there, humming to herself as she made breakfast for them all. What a nice surprise! Rose said it had made all the difference not having to climb the stairs, and she'd had a lovely night's rest though she was afraid she'd left the telly on all night, but that didn't really matter, did it?

No, it didn't. What an enormous relief to see Rose dashing about, almost as spry as ever! Ellie told herself that she'd been worrying unnecessarily about, well, everything. Not that that did much good. If you were the worrying sort, then you'd find something to worry about, even if you didn't need to.

Thomas took the last piece of toast and final cup of coffee off into his office, even as the phone rang. Ellie took it in the sitting room where she'd gone to do the morning tidy-up.

It was Ursula, speaking high and fast. ‘Mrs Quicke, we just got the mail. However can I thank you? When I got your parcel, I was so surprised I nearly dropped it. It was so thoughtful of you and I can't tell you how much better it makes me feel. My mother will be pleased, too, knowing she can contact me easily. I do worry about her, you know.'

‘I dropped in to see her yesterday. She's not fit to go back to work yet, but she's coming on nicely.'

‘Of course she's not fit to go back yet, but if I know her she'll probably try to do so, because she worries so about her clients. She's ultra-conscientious where they're concerned. I'm going to ring her in a minute to give her this number, set her mind at rest, about contacting me at any rate.'

‘Talking of setting your mind at rest. I saw Detective Inspector Willis yesterday, but I'm afraid—'

‘I know. They've settled it in their minds that Lloyd got drunk and fell, and that Mia was a slag who went off with another man. Thanks for trying. I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I've been talking to some of my friends down here and they say that these things happen and that I really must put the past behind me, get on with my life. They say I've never really tried to get the most out of university because I was always going back up to London to see Dan and the rest of the gang. They're right. I've missed out on a lot here. I've made a resolution to change all that.'

‘Sensible girl.'

Ursula sighed. ‘I don't feel very sensible. Too many loose ends, I suppose. You won't believe this, but Tim Prior phoned yesterday asking me to go back up to town this weekend for some party or other. He says they don't want to lose any more friends, and there's someone they want me to meet. As if! I wanted to ask how they could forget it all so quickly, but I didn't. I suppose I ought to have gone to the police about the way he and Anthony treated me, but –' she tried out a laugh – ‘I won't, because it would only prolong the agony. Evidence of a new maturity on my part, do you think?'

‘Probably, yes.'

Ursula sighed. ‘My friends here want me on some committee or other, something to do with the Student Union. I said I'd give it a try. So think of me discussing fund-raising, instead of partying this weekend.'

‘If you're short of a few pence any time . . .'

‘No, thank you, Mrs Quicke. You've done enough, and more than enough, and I appreciate it. And especially I appreciate the mobile. But I pay my own way; usually, that is.' This time her laugh seemed genuine. She rang off.

Ellie should have been heartened by this phone call. After all, how many young people nowadays bother to say ‘thank you' for gifts? Ursula was a nice, sensible girl and Ellie wished her well.

So why couldn't Ellie be just as sensible?

She stared out of the window, twitching at the long velvet curtains to let more of the drab winter's light into the sitting room. She noticed that the little silver bell, which her aunt Drusilla had always used in order to summon Rose, had drifted back into the sitting room. A nuisance. It was supposed to be left beside Rose's chair nowadays, but seemed to have a life of its own. Ellie supposed the cleaners had moved it again.

She checked her watch. Time for the weekly meeting to deal with the properties left her by her aunt. She checked the radiators in the dining room. Yes, they were warming the room nicely.

Stewart was the first to arrive, smiling a little. He'd obviously had a good night's sleep too.

Pat, Ellie's middle-aged and efficient assistant, had come back to work for the first time for a week. She was still sniffling and not quite as sharp as usual, but then who was, on a dark January day? Kate, their financial whiz-kid, arrived with a tiny posy of daphne and winter jasmine plucked from Ellie's old garden to cheer her up. Actually, it made Ellie feel more like crying, because there was neither daphne nor winter jasmine in the garden at the big house. Ellie put the flowers in a silver vase that she couldn't remember ever having seen in use before, and hoped it wouldn't leak. Then she chid herself for allowing such a depressing thought.

Ellie tried not to think about Diana more than once a minute as the four of them moved into the dining room and settled down to discuss the housing situation and the possible effects on their tenants. Stewart gave his weekly report, and pointed out that in the present climate many of those in Ellie's properties were going to find it hard to keep up the rental payments. Ellie could, of course, resort to the small claims division of the County Court to try to recover any money owing.

Kate shook her head. ‘Time-consuming, costly, and probably counterproductive. Might as well turn ourselves into a charitable housing association and be done with it.'

‘I'm thinking along those lines anyway,' said Ellie.

‘Ouch,' said Kate. ‘I wasn't serious. Doing that – and it would take months to set up – means you'd reduce the income for the Trust. If you reduce the income for the Trust, then you'll have less money to distribute to those in need, and the directors of the Trust wouldn't be happy about that.'

‘Suppose we lower our rents for those in trouble financially?'

‘Tricky,' said Kate. ‘We'd have to bring in means-testing. We'd still have high maintenance bills to pay and we'd have to pick up the slack.'

‘Could we ask appropriate families to downsize? After all, we have properties of all sorts in different neighbourhoods.'

‘We could. It would be a lot of extra work for Stewart and his team, but it would save our tenants from being thrown out on to the street. Any properties we can't re-let immediately might benefit from a good wash and brush-up.'

Stewart was frowning. ‘Someone once said that the poor are never grateful, and in my experience that's true. It would be like stirring porridge to get them to downsize, but yes, it's worth trying, and there are quite a few properties that could benefit from updating, particularly in the bathroom and kitchen areas.'

Kate lifted a finger to attract attention. ‘There's one more thing we ought to consider. In a recession, the price of houses falls dramatically. It's true that Ellie is worth much less on paper now than before this happened, but she's not short of a penny and doesn't need to sell any of her properties at lowered prices. Instead of selling she might consider buying, as and when suitable properties come on to the market.'

Ellie's mind leapt to Prior's Place, and from that to the block of flats which Roy had inherited. Kate looked at Ellie in her frowning way, as if expecting Ellie to pursue the subject, but Ellie wasn't sure what she thought about either, so merely nodded and closed the meeting.

On the point of leaving, Stewart took Ellie aside. ‘Do you still want to rent out your old house? I've got some possible tenants in mind. Shall I take them round?'

Ellie nodded. No one had mentioned Diana during the meeting and no one did now. Oh Diana, where are you?

Stewart gave her a quick, absent-minded kiss on her cheek and left. Their relationship had always been formal in the old days when he'd been married to Diana, but since then they'd become good friends. Perhaps one day she'd even ask him to call her by her Christian name.

Kate had taken her time putting her papers away, but was now ready to leave too. Ellie walked her to the door.

‘Kate, what do you think of the mess Roy's got himself into?'

‘We could take the flats off him, but you've decided against that already, haven't you? You want me to try the City, see if anyone would care to buy Prior's Place outright? I'm not sure that's going to be easy.'

‘It would solve a big problem for me if you could. Have a try, yes?'

Ellie helped Pat tidy the dining room and transfer their papers to Ellie's study. It was good to have her back. Pat was fiftyish – like Ellie – and also fairly substantial in build. Divorced, with two children now more or less off her hands, Pat had good IT skills, and was also not averse to a gossip. Today she blew her nose, brewed coffee and made a start on the mail which had accumulated in her absence.

‘You're hardly fit yet,' said Ellie. ‘And I'm so . . . I don't know. Can't concentrate. I keep thinking about Ursula and her friend Mia. Oh, sorry. You don't know about them, do you? Let me fill you in.'

When she'd finished Ellie said, ‘Pat, do we know anyone – maybe a student – at the university here? I promised to make some enquiries, but I don't know where to start.'

Pat sniffled and thought. ‘I know someone in the Admissions Office slightly. If a student's dropped out, she'd know. Shall I ring her for you?'

‘Bless you. I don't know all that much about Mia, apart from her name and the address of the family home which she seems to have left in a hurry. It's a second marriage for her mother, no shortage of money, seems to have run with a fast set headed by her stepbrothers. I suspect she had private schooling. It's not much to go on, is it?'

In the old days she'd have gone out herself to enquire about Mia, wouldn't she? Well, actually – no. She wouldn't have known where to start. The world of the student was a closed book to her.

Worry, worry. She was such a useless sort of person today, not knowing what to do with herself. She collected the silver bell from the sitting room and took it out to the kitchen, where Rose was humming away to the food mixer. Rose seemed to have recovered her spirits and there was even a little colour in her face.

‘You look so much better, Rose,' said Ellie, relieved.

Rose pointed a wooden spoon at her. ‘Go away and do something useful, such as getting in something for supper tonight. I haven't the time to go shopping, have I? And take that bell back to the sitting room where it belongs, for I don't need it.'

Ellie made herself scarce. She couldn't think of anything she really wanted to do. There were plenty of things she
ought
to be doing, of course, but that was not the same thing at all. Maybe she'd get round to the shopping later.