Murder in Midwinter (5 page)

‘I don’t …
think
so,’ said Bella, slowly. ‘I think I’d like to look in to running it myself.’

‘But how?’ Andrew came nearer to a screech than he ever had in his life. ‘You couldn’t run it from here.’

‘No.’ Bella was thoughtful. ‘But I could commute.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. For a start, where would the money come from? You can’t set up a venture like that without working capital – and I certainly haven’t got any to spare. This family takes up every penny and more, as you know.’

I know, thought Bella. You’re always telling me.

‘So, tell me. Where would you get the money?’ He raised himself up on his elbow to lean over her and she buried her head more firmly in the pillow.

‘I don’t know, Andrew, I’ve told you. I’ve got to think about it. Just leave me be.’

‘When you’ve thought about it, you’ll see I’m right.’ He reached a hand down and patted her shoulder. ‘Impossible to live there or do anything with the theatre. Far better to sell them both. Cottage in the country, great as a second home, and where’s the theatre?’

‘On the seafront,’ said Bella tiredly.

‘There you are,’ he said. ‘Brilliant. Get it valued. We might even be able to get a little place in Spain, or somewhere. Bulgaria’s supposed to be nice, isn’t it? And much cheaper.’

Oh, yes, thought Bella. It would have to be much cheaper.

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Bella. ‘I can’t do anything until probate’s granted anyway, and I’d like to find out a bit more about my aunt and my grandmother before I let everything go.’

He threw himself over with his back to her and yanked the duvet away from her shoulders.

‘Well, do let me know what you’ve decided, won’t you?’ he muttered, and let out a gusty, disapproving sigh.

Bella was up before Andrew in the morning, cutting sandwiches for the children when he came into the kitchen tying his conservative blue and red striped tie.

‘Tea?’ he asked, riffling through the pile of post on the table. Bella gritted her teeth and pushed a mug of tea across the kitchen table before turning back to the bread. ‘Do you want an egg? I’m doing one for Tony.’

‘No, thanks. I was up a pound or two yesterday at the club.’

Bella glowered sideways at his stocky but well-toned figure. ‘Bloody squash,’ she muttered under her breath. Andrew didn’t hear and retuned the radio to Radio Four.

‘Oh, Dad.’ Amanda slouched in to the kitchen. ‘Do we have to listen to that rubbish?’

‘Better than your rubbish.’ He sat down and poured himself a bowl of health-conscious cereal. Amanda regarded it with dislike.

‘Here are your sandwiches, Manda.’ Bella handed them over. ‘Sorry they’re a bit thick.’

Amanda shrugged. ‘’Salright. Can I have some money for the way home?’

‘Money?’ Andrew looked up. ‘What for?’

‘They always have some extra pocket money on Fridays.’ Bella scrabbled in her bag for her purse. ‘They always have. You know that.’

‘I do not.’ Andrew chased the last soggy flake round his bowl and Amanda sighed theatrically and raised her eyes to the ceiling. Bella handed over some money and went to the kitchen door.

‘Tony. Are you dressed yet? And have you got your rugby gear?’

‘Yes.’ An impatient and muffled reply came from the bathroom, followed quickly by size ten feet coming down the stairs two at a time.

‘Sandwiches?’ He grabbed them from the table and thrust them in to an already bulging sports bag. ‘I’ll be late tonight, Mum, I’m going to Danny’s after rugger.’

‘No “Please may I?” I suppose?’ Andrew stood up with a teeth grating scrape of his chair.

‘He is seventeen, Andrew.’ Bella found some more money and gave it to Tony. ‘Get your coat on, Manda.’

‘Hang on.’ Andrew slid his arms in to his suit jacket and smoothed down his hair. ‘I’ll give you both a lift to the bus stop.’ He went into the hall to pick up his briefcase and Bella and the children exchanged surprised glances.

‘Come on, then,’ he called from the front door. ‘See you later, Bel.’

Bella was mildly astonished when her daughter came up and gave her a hug.

‘We missed you, Mum,’ she whispered.

When they had gone, Bella sat down at the table with a fresh mug of tea feeling as though she had shrivelled up like a prune. All the fight had gone out of her and Andrew had completely forgotten about her minor rebellion of the previous evening. Pointless, really, wasn’t it? She giggled. How absurd it sounded now, in the cold light of day in her own kitchen. Why had she thought she could do it? She couldn’t even plan a holiday without Andrew’s help, so why had she thought she was capable of such a gargantuan undertaking as the restoration and re-opening of a theatre?

She rested her chin in her hands and gazed out at the grey morning. The truth was that she hadn’t thought about it, it had just popped out last night in response to Andrew’s obvious disapproval. When she thought about it logically, of course she couldn’t de-camp to Kent leaving the children here with Andrew, who was so palpably out of his depth with them.

But she thought about it all morning while she got dressed, cleared up the kitchen and tried to tidy away all the evidence of two days away from home. She talked to herself as she wiped round the washbasin, collected damp towels and fished socks out of the waste bin and collected magazines and papers in the sitting room.

After raiding the fridge at lunchtime and coming up with nothing but a lettuce and some cold potatoes, she decided to go early to the supermarket. The inside of her ancient Fiat was like a fridge until the dodgy heating system turned it into a blast furnace bringing her out in an uncomfortable film of perspiration which the open window did nothing to combat. By the time she had collected her trolley and pushed it in to the air conditioned bliss of the supermarket her hair was sticking limply to her forehead and the back of her neck and she was scared to lift her arms and reveal possible dark patches. Shopping was very difficult if you could only take things from below shoulder height.

‘Bella.’

‘Oh, hi, Viv.’ Bella wrenched her trolley to a halt and surreptitiously wiped her damp top lip.

‘You look hot.’ Viv, an acquaintance from Bella’s amateur drama society, squinted up from under a cloud of dark hair which surrounded an unseasonably tanned and painted face, sharply pointed like a snooty weasel. Heavy gold chains clanked painfully against protruding collar bones and wrists, but she never seemed to either notice or get bruised.

‘I am hot. And bothered.’

‘So, did you go down to Kent?’ She fixed Bella with a beady brown eye.

‘Yes, I did. Got back yesterday.’

‘Golly.’ The other woman’s eyes widened even further than normal. ‘I never thought old Andy’d let you go.’

‘What do you mean? Let me go? It wasn’t up to him.’

‘Rubbish. He treats you like one of the children –
and
you let him. I must admit I was surprised when you said you were going.’

‘Well, I went. And I’m going back.’

‘Back? When?’

‘I don’t know when.’ She stared at the contents of her trolley. ‘In fact, I don’t quite know what I’m going to do at all, but I’m definitely going. I’ve been left a derelict theatre.’

‘What?’

‘I didn’t actually go inside, but I know where it is. I want to open it up.’

‘Open it?’ Excitement swept across Viv’s sharp features. ‘As a theatre?’

‘Yes. If I can find out how to go about it.’

‘Fantastic. Will you take us down there? I mean the Monday Players.’

‘Oh, Viv, I couldn’t.’ Bella shook her head. ‘I don’t know how to go about it all – really.’

‘But what does Andrew say about it all? I bet he’s mad.’

Bella sighed. ‘Yes, he is. He can’t understand why I want to do it. He thought I should sell the site for “us” to get some capital out of it. And he doesn’t want me swanning off to Kent every five minutes.’

‘I don’t suppose the children do, either,’ the other woman nodded sagely, ‘not if it means them being left with Andrew.’

‘No.’ Bella sighed again. ‘I thought it would be all right. After all, Tony’s seventeen and Amanda’s nearly sixteen, but they missed me.’

‘So how would they cope? I can’t see them being over-enamoured of moving to Kent.’

‘Oh, no, there’s no question of that.’ Bella realised that she was lying and rushed on. ‘I’ll just have to commute until I see what’s going to happen.’

‘Well, I don’t know how. You haven’t got any money and Andrew won’t fund you.’

‘Something’ll work out.’ Bella made to push her trolley further on. ‘See if it doesn’t.’

Viv couldn’t refrain from a final valedictory comment. ‘It’ll work out in the divorce courts if you’re not careful,’ she said. ‘Mark my words.’

Chapter Three

F
RAN OPENED THE DOOR
to the flat with her phone in the other hand.

‘Yes,’ she was saying, ‘of course, but I don’t see why …?’

Libby followed her up the stairs.

‘All right, I suppose so.’ Fran frowned. ‘Give me her number. No, she can’t have mine. And I don’t know why you think I can help her, anyway.’ She waved Libby towards a bottle on the table. ‘All right. Yes, I’ll let you know. Goodbye.’ She switched off the phone and looked at Libby. ‘That was Inspector Connell,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Libby put her own bottle down next to Fran’s. ‘Which wine?’

‘Don’t mind,’ said Fran. ‘You’ll never guess what he wanted.’

‘To ask you out?’

‘Don’t be daft, Lib. Didn’t you hear my side of the conversation?’

‘Something about giving someone your number.’

‘Exactly. Pour me a glass and I’ll tell you all.’

Libby poured two glasses and sat on the window sill. ‘Go on then.’

‘Apparently, Inspector Connell has suggested I can help some woman who’s just found a body.’

‘What?’ Libby’s mouth dropped open.

‘This woman’s inherited a theatre or something. In Nethergate.’

‘In Nethergate? I didn’t know there was a theatre in Nethergate. There’s the Carlton Pavilion, of course.’

‘No, it’s disused. I think I remember it on the seafront.’

‘Oh!’ Libby’s face lit up. ‘Of course. The Alexandria! They used to have summer shows there, revues and things. I believe it had been going since the First World War. Not sure of the details, but I remember being taken to see shows there.’

‘That’s it.’ Fran nodded. ‘Well, this woman’s inherited it.’

‘Lucky bugger,’ said Libby.

‘It’s derelict apparently, so I assume it’s going on the market. Should fetch a good price. Anyway, when she was looking over it this woman found a body.’

‘And Inspector Connell wants you to help?’ asked Libby, excited. ‘See! I told you we could do it.’

‘No, no, Lib. She wants to know about the theatre and her relatives. She didn’t know anything about them.’

‘So what made Connell suggest you?’

Fran shrugged. ‘Connections with local theatre? Keep me out of trouble? I don’t know.’

‘An excuse to keep in touch with you?’

‘Oh, do stop, Libby,’ said Fran. ‘You were just like this with Guy. Stop match-making.’

‘I only want you to be as happy as I am,’ said Libby, climbing off the window sill.

‘I am happy. Deliriously. I’ve suddenly come into money and the loveliest cottage in the world – almost.’

‘And some new clothes,’ said Libby. ‘Did you get those in London?’

Fran stared self-consciously down at her new jeans and jumper. ‘Yes. I thought I ought to get a bit more up-to-date.’

‘Very nice too,’ said Libby. ‘Wish I could.’

‘You couldn’t change your look, though, could you?’ Fran went into the kitchen.

‘That’s probably because of where I shop.’ Libby followed her. ‘Can I carry anything?’

‘Salad,’ said Fran, handing it to her. ‘And I take it you mean charity shops?’

‘Of course,’ grinned Libby. ‘I couldn’t possibly desert them.’

‘There are some lovely clothes of your kind, now,’ said Fran sitting down at the table and passing Libby a plate of something savoury.

‘Very expensive,’ said Libby. ‘I get the same effect for next to nothing. I mean, look at my cape.’

They both turned and looked at the slightly moth-eaten blue blanket hanging on Fran’s coat hook.

‘That’d cost a fortune these days.’ Libby helped herself to salad. ‘Now, back to this woman. Who is she?’

‘A Bella Morleigh.’ Fran pulled a piece of paper towards her. ‘A London number. That’s all I know.’

‘So she isn’t local.’

‘Doesn’t look like it.’

‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ Libby looked up at her friend, her eyes sparkling. ‘This is just what I was suggesting.’

‘This is pure coincidence, Libby, and, forgive me for saying it, nothing to do with you.’

Libby gasped. ‘Fran! How could you? You
can’t
keep me out of it.’

Fran shifted in her chair, looking down at her plate. ‘Well, I’ll tell you about it, of course, but –’

Libby looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Oh, I get it. Connell warned me off, did he?’

‘Sort of,’ said Fran, looking uncomfortable.

‘Keep that meddling bitch out of it, I suppose?’ said Libby.

‘Something like that.’ Fran looked even more uncomfortable.

Libby laughed. ‘Oh, don’t look so bad, Fran. After all, if it hadn’t been for my meddling we wouldn’t have got very far last time, would we?’

‘I know.’ Fran sat up straight, looking happier. ‘But I think he wants me to report back to him, so we’ll have to keep you low profile.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘If possible.’

‘Now why,’ said Libby, resting her chin on her hand, ‘does he want you to report back to him? Does he suspect this woman of something?’

‘If he did, he would be questioning her, not turning her over to me.’

‘Must be he thinks something in her background is a clue, then,’ said Libby. ‘I told you he was more intelligent than Inspector Murray.’

‘Inspector Murray at least believed in me,’ said Fran. ‘It was only right at the end that Connell had to give in.’

‘Fancies you,’ said Libby. ‘I keep saying.’

‘I know you do, and I wish you’d stop. And I’m going out with Guy tonight, anyway.’