The Twisted Way (34 page)

On the second morning of her stay in hospital Robbie arrived to see her. He walked towards her in his usual relaxed and reassuring way, bearing a large bunch of bright yellow roses tied with gold ribbon and a card from the Enderly bridge club members. He hesitated but Felicity, her face softer than he had ever seen it before, flashed a tremulous smile and beckoned him to sit on a chair next to her bed. She was touched to see the flowers and the card which had been signed by all the members of the club.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked, and hesitated before taking the proffered seat. He flashed an anxious glance at the still deep pink line on her neck.

‘Oh, not too bad,’ she answered in an attempt to make light of the situation. ‘I can go back to Primrose House tomorrow.’ She grimaced with pain. Her leg was giving her gip. ‘Auntie has apparently missed me. Well, she told Joyce she has and Joyce was good enough to bring me a few things I needed earlier today.’

Robbie thought that perhaps her aunt really had missed her. Janet might be glad of the company, even if it was only that provided by a crass avaricious niece.

‘Well, yes,’ he said, ‘I don’t doubt it.’ He blew his nose and smoothed his hair back from his face, a nervous gesture he often made. ‘Can I get you anything? Fruit, squash ...?’

‘No, but I would appreciate it if you would drive me home tomorrow. I don’t want any nosy taxi driver coming to pick me up or the local press chasing me, if that can be avoided.’

‘Of course,’ Robbie said and gave her a puzzled look. She was trying to be pleasant.

‘Robbie ... ’ She hesitated. ‘There is something I must tell you. I have discovered that you were Aunt Janet’s evacuee Tom Hands.’ She clutched the edges of the sheet and blanket that covered her bed so hard that her burnt arm caused her to flinch.

For a moment Robbie was speechless. He opened his mouth to say something but words failed him and he closed it once again with a snap. It was the last thing he expected her to tell him. What had happened to her? It appeared that she had turned over a new leaf. It must be the trauma of seeing her brother again after so many years and the fact that he had tried to kill her. He did not think that this change of heart would last!

‘I know you are a good man,’ she continued, ‘and have your reasons to work incognito for so long as a handyman and gardener. I will keep your secret. Will you do something for me?’

Robbie was once again lost for words. There must be a catch. What was she up to now?

‘Well, that depends ...’ He rubbed his forehead with his right hand and hoped he was not going to experience a bad headache. He felt tense and feared the worst.

‘Just watch over me too,’ she almost whispered with a catch in her throat and to his embarrassment stretched out one arm and touched his face gently as though she wished to show him some affection. Her eyes were moist and appealing. His stomach turned somersaults as he struggled not to show his revulsion.

He woke up with a start the next day as the sun poked shafts of bright light through the curtains in his bedroom. His head ached and was made worse by the clanking ring of his phone. It was Felicity.

‘See you soon,’ she said in an unusually soft girlie voice. ‘I’m ready to go home.’

‘I’ll be there in about half an hour,’ he managed to stutter. He showered, dressed and shaved as fast as he could, though he felt like a car being driven with the brakes on. He swallowed a cup of strong coffee and the caffeine filtered through him giving him a welcome lift. He filled a bowl half full of cornflakes, dowsed them with milk and a large teaspoonful of sugar, and then swallowed them far too quickly. He would no doubt have indigestion and did not look forward to driving Felicity back to Primrose House. ‘God, that ghastly bloody woman’, he muttered, but she had been unlucky and he felt a a twinge of conscience. His mouth felt dry as he reached for his medication, too many damned pills he thought, and forced them down with the remains of his coffee. He, the reluctant employee, begrudging and irritable, made his way to Primrose House to collect Janet’s beloved old Rover car and drive it to Everton Hospital to pick up Felicity. Was she his destiny? Heaven forbid! It was a ludicrous thought.

DI Holmes checked Ronald’s fingerprints with the one found on the stone that had dealt the death blow to Peter Mace. It matched perfectly. That was one case that had been solved but he was not so sure about the demise of Matthew Mace.

Ronald’s daughter was informed of her father’s death and his attempt to murder his sister. She had little to say and refused to come to England to attend his funeral although his entire estate in Australia had been left to her. Following an inquest Ronald was cremated and his ashes scattered, as he had requested in his will, over his mother Anne’s grave in Roehampton Cemetery.

Felicity did attend his funeral and cremation in Everton. She asked Robbie to drive her to the church and stay with her throughout the brief service for support. Janet was not well and unable to attend; there were no friends to say any kind words about his life. Felicity clutched Robbie’s arm and although he was sympathetic with her plight the whole affair was to him like a bad, almost surreal, dream.

Felicity would never forgive Ronald or forget the horror she felt in the kitchen on the day of his death, or the corpse she had identified later as her brother, cold and lifeless. The experience had been sobering and caused her to reflect carefully once again about her life. He had looked quite different from the brother she had known years ago; now old and flabby, a waxy white creature with deep wrinkles etched into his brow, but his tapir nose and strange long lobed ears marked him out as Anne’s son. A birthmark, on his right shoulder, small and brown like an acorn, provided definite proof of his identity. She had shuddered when she first saw him, almost heaved and turned her head away from the body. She looked at the pale grey floor in an effort to regain control.

‘Yes, it is my brother Ronald,’ she had mumbled and the the scenario in Janet’s kitchen returned to her mind with unwelcome speed. Ronald had gone and in circumstances she must now make an effort to forget. Time would heal her wounds. She felt lonely and vulnerable. Janet was what she called gaga, she herself was over sixty years old and she began to wonder if she too would, like Auntie, have to endure a bleak old age. Auntie’s money had provided her with the physical comfort that she had craved for so long but was that enough? She thought more each day about Robbie. What a nice man he was; she was beginning to enjoy his company and looked forward to seeing his thin intelligent face and deep hazel eyes.

Robbie wondered if this flippant woman, who had no apparent kind heart or conscience and was apparently crippled with greed for money, had changed. He hoped for everyone’s sake that she had, but he was suspicious. She was treating him with respect now like an old friend but he doubted whether she had a sincere bone in her body. He would continue to watch his back.

‘Can you check the security arrangements in Primrose House, perhaps change the locks?’ Felicity asked him. ‘The windows appear secure but the habit of leaving the back door unlocked for you, the milkman and Joyce will have to change. You must all have new keys.’

‘I will see to it as soon as possible,’ he said. He had long thought that would be sensible but Janet had been so trusting

Panic now threatened to overwhelm Robbie, kicking him in the guts and hurtling through his brain with cynical intensity when he considered Felicity’s now frequently simpering and too familiar attitude towards him. There was one thought uppermost in his mind – get away from her before it is too late! He doubted, however, that he could. Fate was closing in on him.

Felicity slowly regained her strength and was relieved to return to Primrose House in spite of the ordeal she had 
endured in the kitchen. She vowed get rid of that foul Aga if 
she ever inherited the house. Because Ronald was no longer in the picture, it was gratifying that his share of the estate could one day belong to her. That was some consolation for the trauma he had inflicted upon her and recompense for the suffering she had endured at his hands but it was cold comfort. Thank goodness she had not seen anything in the will that suggested that Ronald’s share of Auntie’s inheritance would be passed down to his daughter. Tom Hands, or rather Robbie, had only been left a small sum and she was now of the opinion that such a paltry amount was not worth worrying about. She was becoming fond of the man and it did not seem so important to her now whether or not he inherited some money although the thought remained that he did not need it and it should in fairness come to her. Despite her efforts to find him using the slimy detective, she had changed her mind about getting rid of him. Indeed, she had come to think of him as a friend since her ‘accident’, as she preferred to remember it. The attempted murder by her little brother was something that chilled and terrified even the cool Felicity and she tried not to think about it, although the horror of that afternoon would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Robbie would have been appalled if he had known that she cared for him in any way. The fact that she had warmed towards him surprised her as much as it would amaze him. She could tell he was not well and she would like to look after him. A motherly longing to hug him overcame her whenever she thought about him. She needed his friendship and wondered if she could throw herself on his mercy and gain his sympathy, but she was not adept at that type of behaviour. She knew it would beneficial to consider her options with care.

Janet too had warmed towards Felicity. She had been company for the ailing old woman, if somewhat prickly and vacillating, and Janet, ensconced in her confused and disintegrating world, was pleased to have her companionship. She was aware of her niece’s lust for money but that did not matter because money and the acquisition of worldly goods no longer interested Janet.

The bridge club members welcomed Felicity back when she returned to play with Marianne after a few weeks’ rest. Some shook her by the hand and others, to her embarrassment, put their arms around her shoulders to reassure her. It was a new experience for the once socially shunned Felicity. Her status had changed after Ronald’s attempt to murder her, most members having been provoked into feeling sincere sympathy for the victim, despite the fact that she had not been one of their most popular players. Felicity felt some embarrassment at first but soon began to bask in and enjoy the unaccustomed attention and became more relaxed than she had for a long time. ‘Anything we can do?’ ‘You can rely on us …’ ‘Ring me at anytime if you would like to talk to someone …’ were some of the phrases she got used to hearing. She had been cold shouldered and disliked all her life because of her restless and difficult behaviour and she was, to her surprise, touched to the centre of her being and experienced a happiness she had not known before at any time in her life.

Patsy Croft and John Elk fussed over her. ‘Dear Felicity,’ Patsy gushed uncharacteristically as her face softened with genuine sympathy. ‘We are here for you and were so sorry to hear about your dreadful ordeal.’ John and Patsy were becoming noticeably closer as a couple and Felicity thought that the wedding to which she hoped to be invited, together with some of the other Enderly and Little Brinton bridge players, might soon be forthcoming. She was looking forward to it. There would probably be a good spread laid on for the guests that day in Little Brinton and she would buy an attractive outfit for the occasion.

‘Welcome back, Felicity,’ Robbie had announced earlier with his club chairman’s hat on. Old Pat too had squeezed Felicity’s arm affectionately. Felicity glowed with happiness, akin to a feeling she had not felt since she was a small child being rocked in her mother’s arms. The attention she had craved all her life was now given to her. She mellowed, at least for a while, and became increasingly reconciled with the prospect of Robbie inheriting some of her aunt’s money as she felt her affection grow for the man each day.

A week later Patsy surprised John by suggesting that they might spend a weekend together in Devon. She had found details about a bridge weekend that was to be held in a good hotel in Teignmouth. She had discovered from other bridge players in Little Brinton that the bridge there was always well organised and the food excellent. She showed John the brochure.

‘There are attractive red cliffs and quite a reasonable beach to walk on,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘It’s nice little town with quite good shops and a few interesting places nearby to visit. A well-organised bridge company called ‘Aces High’ is running it and they have a sound reputation. We can book separate rooms, of course,’ she continued, her small eyes twinkling as a smile fluttered round her pale pink mouth which had softened and looked almost feminine since she had been going out with John. A flush crept across her cheeks and she brushed the hair back from her face with neat manicured hands; nails painted with care to match her lips, John noticed. ‘It will be fun. A chance to improve our bridge partnership.’

John hoped that was not the only partnership that would improve. He was getting restless and longing to get closer to the love of his life. They were not young and he didn’t want to waste too many years, or even months, pussyfooting around as he thought of it. He agreed with alacrity and two weeks later they set off together in John’s old Ford, their smart new suitcases nudging each other in the boot.

The bridge was as good and well organised as Patsy had suggested it would be and the food in the hotel well up to their expectations. They played well together and did not argue about the conventions or mistakes in their play which was unusual. There was often some small blip they discussed heatedly at the end of an evening, but not this time. John’s thoughts were centred on how he could get Patsy into bed, indeed he was getting quite obsessed with the idea. Bridge was a secondary consideration.

Patsy kissed him briefly on the lips at the door of her room after the second evening of play finished at about eleven o’clock. It was the kind of affectionate kiss a daughter might give her father.