Truth Will Out (5 page)

‘You ought to live in a bungalow, then you wouldn’t have to drag yourself up and down.’

‘I don’t drag myself down, do I? It’s only up. Up is the problem.’ With a last gasp Biddy reached the top and stopped to rest. For a moment they both were aware of the gathering silence.

Alice said, ‘So what time shall we get up tomorrow?’

She had asked this question several times already and Biddy still wasn’t sure what to say. Coming to an abrupt decision she said, ‘Half an hour later than usual.’

‘Half an hour? Is that all?’

‘We’ll see how it goes. I might make it longer if we get the jobs done.’

‘She shouldn’t be giving us jobs to do. We’re not servants. You’re her aunt and I’m a companion.’

‘Oh, don’t start that again, Alice. She hasn’t given us jobs. I have. I like to help around the place; it’s my home, my family and I can’t sit about doing nothing . . . Anyway, sleep well. See you in the morning.’

She set off in the direction of her bedroom. Putting on her light, she made straight for the chair in the corner and, sitting on the side of the bed, began to undress, folding each garment carefully and piling them on the nearby chair. Once she had removed her corset she let out a sigh of relief and reached for her nightdress. She cleaned her teeth, climbed into bed and reached beneath the pillow for her diary.

She wrote: ‘
Sat 10th June. They’ve gone and it’s very quiet without them. Alice finds it creepy, silly girl. Nothing much to wash up after dinner and don’t know what I shall cook tomorrow for just two. Can’t think why they had to go off for a holiday. The week will go so slowly. I don’t think Maude was so keen on the idea but Lionel was determined so she didn’t want to disappoint him. Hope we don’t see that weird chap again in the garden but it’s unlikely as he won’t know that we’re just the two of us unless he is a burglar but he can’t be because Lionel seemed to know about him but . . .
’

She paused. Surely if anyone tried to break in Primmy would bark like mad and the intruder would be scared off. Maybe they should bring Primmy and her basket up on to the landing . . . But then she wouldn’t hear the intruder until it was too late. In her diary she crossed out the word ‘
but
’ and started a new sentence.

‘
Anyway I hope Maude enjoys herself even if he’s going to pop up to the gallery once or twice. She’ll be quite safe at the hotel and might meet some nice people to talk to while he’s away. It certainly is strange here without them. I shan’t sleep a wink.
’

Next day, breakfast in the dining room of the Romilees promised to be a relaxed affair and some of Maude’s nervousness faded. The room was sunny and the various conversations politely muted. There were mixed garden flowers in a large bowl on the sideboard and seagulls swooped to and fro outside the window. It was strange to be away from home and she missed Alice and Aunt Biddy, although she would not admit it to Lionel. She was grateful for his concern and felt it would be unkind even to hint that the holiday might prove less than perfect. Breakfast was at nine and Maude and Lionel found themselves seated at a small table in the large bay window with an elderly couple on one side and a young couple with a son on the other.

They said their ‘good mornings’ and then Lionel handed Maude the breakfast menu and she chose scrambled egg on toast. When the waitress arrived Maude added a pot of tea for two.

Lionel glanced up at the waitress. ‘I’ll have the kippers,’ he told her.

‘They’re very good,’ she assured him.

‘And some toast and marmalade.’ His charming smile made her beam as she wrote down the order and scurried away in the direction of the kitchen.

Maude smiled at him. ‘And what is the plan for today, Lionel?’

His handsome face lit up at the question. ‘I thought we’d walk along to the other end of the town and take a look at the East Cliff Railway. It’s quite an attraction, apparently. We’ll be back in time for lunch.’

The elderly man leaned across to them. ‘And a very good lunch it is, too, sir.’ He smiled at Maude. ‘My wife and I have always said that Romilees do a quite splendid Sunday lunch here. No expense spared. Fresh vegetables, first-class meat and all cooked to perfection. It wouldn’t do to be a vegetarian in this hotel!’

His wife nodded enthusiastically. ‘And it’s all served with a smile. Nothing too much trouble.’

‘Your first time here, is it?’ He smiled at Maude.

‘Yes it is.’

‘You’ll be back, my dear lady. Mark my words, you’ll be back. Bracing sea air, entertainment on the pier . . . You can even swim in the sea if you care for that sort of thing. Not that we do – never fancied immersing ourselves in cold salt water – but there are plenty who do. Our amusement comes from watching their antics!’

He was distracted at this point by the arrival of egg and bacon for himself and his wife, and Maude and Lionel were once again free to discuss their day.

‘After lunch you must have a rest, Maude. A sleep on the bed for an hour or so to let the meal go down.’ He held up a hand as she started to protest. ‘I know you slept well but you must allow me, darling, to know what’s best for you.’ He took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Don’t I always, Maude?’

She nodded. Outside the sun shone and everyone was predicting that the fine weather would continue. Maude decided not to criticize the holiday in any way at all. Lionel had planned everything so carefully with her happiness in mind. She must appreciate his efforts. She counted her blessings. She had a wonderful husband, a comfortable home, good health, no money worries – a life many people would envy. It was up to her to enjoy every moment of their holiday together. She would forget about Alice and Aunt Biddy, who would no doubt be enjoying themselves in their own way. Primmy would be well looked after and in a week’s time they would all be reunited again. Thus reassured, she glanced round the room.

At the next table the young boy was refusing to eat the cornflakes that had been brought to him, insisting that they didn’t taste right. Discreetly watching him, Maude wondered, not for the first time, when their own first child would announce his or her existence. Lionel wanted a child as much as she did but so far there had been no sign that she might be expecting a baby. Neither she nor Lionel had referred to this fact but she was sure he was as anxious as she was to start their family.

When they did have children, she wondered how she would cope. The woman next to her was being very patient but the father looked increasingly embarrassed and suddenly took away the offending cornflakes and asked the waitress to remove it.

‘There now, Billy!’ his mother said, disconcerted. ‘See what you’ve done! You’ve made Daddy cross.’

‘I want porridge, Mummy.’

‘You chose cornflakes, Billy.’

‘I meant to say porridge.’

The father said, ‘You turned down egg and bacon and you turned down porridge.’

His mother caught Maude’s eye and shrugged helplessly. Maude smiled in sympathy, wishing she could say something helpful but unable to think of anything.

To distract from his son’s behaviour, the father turned towards Lionel and Maude. In a falsely cheerful voice he said, ‘I’m William Hurst and this is my wife, Susan. I hope you enjoy your stay at Romilees. We come every year for a week and always feel better for the break.’

Lionel introduced himself and Maude, and they talked about Hastings and were told what it had to offer while Billy began to sniffle and then to kick the table leg. He cast sullen looks at his father and fiddled with the cruet and dropped his serviette on to the floor and tried to kick it under the table. These small rebellions were pointedly ignored but the waitress returned with a full breakfast each for Billy’s parents.

Then the waitress said, ‘Compliments of the cook and she has made Billy some porridge – if that’s all right with you.’

Mrs Hurst clutched her beaded necklace, Billy sat up straighter in his chair and Maude held her breath, wondering what would happen next.

After a tense silence Mr Hurst gave a slight nod. ‘Just this once, then. Say “thank you”, Billy.’

‘Thank you.’

The waitress placed the dish in front of the boy, smiled and walked away. His parents exchanged enigmatic glances and, abandoning their conversation with Maude and Lionel, concentrated on their food without speaking.

It was a small, insignificant episode, Maude told herself, when they finally left the dining room, but it had marred her first breakfast at Romilees and left her feeling vaguely disappointed. She hoped it wasn’t an omen.

After lunch she took the obligatory nap and woke up at five to four. She remembered where she was and that Lionel must be somewhere in the hotel waiting for her. Sitting up she took a deep breath and tried to clear her head. The walk to the end of the town had been longer than she expected and had tired her. Too much fresh air, she thought ruefully, for there had been a stiff breeze blowing and she had been grateful that Lionel had kept an arm round her waist.

It had left her with an appetite and she had eaten too well at lunchtime, hence the heavy sleep into which she had fallen as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Levering herself into a sitting position, she slid from the bed, straightened the eiderdown and crossed to the window. No chance of seeing Lionel, she realized. Their window looked out towards the sea, and the gardens were to the side and rear of the house. He would no doubt be in the lounge or the garden, reading one of the many newspapers and magazines supplied for the guests.

With a last glance in the mirror Maude went downstairs and looked into the lounge. He wasn’t there so she tried the gardens. The elderly man from breakfast was leaning back in a deckchair with a newspaper over his face because the sun was warm for June and the gusty breeze had dropped away. Returning to the house she discovered a games room where Billy and his mother were playing table-tennis, and two women whom she didn’t recognize sat at a small table playing a card game that was unknown to her.

Mrs Hurst looked up, smiling. ‘Did you have a good nap? Your husband said you walked too far. He felt rather guilty.’

‘I slept rather too long,’ she confessed. ‘Now I can’t find him. He’s probably tired of waiting for me to wake and has gone down to the beach for a stroll.’

Billy knocked the ball across the table and his mother missed it. Maude retrieved it from the corner of the room.

‘Mummy! You’re not watching. You’re not playing the game.’

‘Hush dear. I’m talking to Mrs Brent. Be patient.’

At that moment the owner of the hotel appeared in the doorway with an apologetic look on her face. Her name was Alison Cobb and she ran the Romilees with the help of her younger brother, Derek Jayson. Maude guessed the woman to be in her early fifties but the man was considerably younger.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Hurst,’ she said, ‘but we do ask people not to stay on the table-tennis for more than an hour to give others a chance to play. Miss Stevens and her sister are hoping to be next.’

Mrs Hurst looked flustered. ‘Oh dear, have we been here that long? Then we must make way for the sisters.’

Billy’s face crumpled. ‘Oh that’s not fair! Mummy kept talking and talking and now—’

‘Hush, Billy. We’ll have another game tomorrow.’

‘But I was winning!’

Impulsively Maude said, ‘We could go for a walk to the ice-cream shop. It’s only five minutes away. Would you like that?’ She looked at Mrs Hurst for permission. ‘Perhaps you would like to come with us.’

‘Oh, that would be lovely. How very kind.’

Billy dropped his bat on the table and moved impatiently towards the door.

As they went out they passed the Stevens sisters coming in.

Mrs Hurst sent Billy upstairs to fetch her sun hat and then they made their way to the ice-cream shop where Billy spent ages choosing a strawberry cornet. On the way back he said, ‘He’s gone to buy a surprise for you.’

Both women stared at him.

His mother said, ‘Who, dear? What are you talking about?’

‘Mr Brent.’ He looked up at Maude between licks of his ice cream. ‘He was going out. He winked and said it would be a surprise.’

‘Really?’ Maude made a few mental checks to see if she had missed a birthday or an anniversary of some kind.

Mrs Hurst beamed. ‘A surprise? Well, that’s lovely, isn’t it? What a thoughtful man, your husband.’

She sounded wistful, thought Maude. ‘I’m very lucky, Mrs Hurst.’

Back at the Romilees she returned to her room to wait but after half an hour went back downstairs, sat in the lounge and ordered tea and biscuits. Time passed and at last she realized that she was becoming anxious. What on earth could Lionel be buying for her that would need such a long search? And what were they supposed to be celebrating?

Finding her still alone twenty minutes later, Mrs Cobb sat down in the next chair and rolled her eyes. ‘This heat doesn’t suit me,’ she confided. ‘Especially when I’m run off my feet. One of our waitresses is off sick and we have non-residents in for dinner tonight. That’s an extra four. I’m rushed off my feet. My brother said, “For goodness’ sake, Alison, sit down for ten minutes!” He’ll hold the fort. It’s the telephone business. I handle all the bookings and I don’t let him interfere with that side of things in case we get in a muddle. A double booking could do a lot of damage to our reputation.’

She stopped for breath and then continued. ‘You can invite someone to join you for dinner, you know, if you have friends in Hastings. Most of our guests forget that although it’s in the brochure.’ She fanned herself with her hand. ‘Are you enjoying yourself? Did you find the bed comfortable? All our beds are feather mattresses but occasionally we have people who require a firm mattress – usually because of back trouble or suchlike.’

‘Very comfortable, thank you.’ Maude glanced at the grandfather clock. Where on earth was Lionel? Soon she would start to worry in earnest.

Mrs Cobb pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her forehead and then noticed that one of the teacups on Maude’s tray had not been used. ‘Mr Brent not joining you?’ she asked.

‘He hasn’t come back yet. I’m rather surprised but I’m told he went out to buy something for me – a surprise of some kind – but I am getting rather concerned.’