There was a brief, awkward silence. She was aware that Guy was watching her expectantly. She smiled at him and at last he started scanning in her shopping.
Elaine and his mother must have worked something out between them. It was his mother who rang him late one Monday evening towards the end of June. ‘Daniel,’ she said in her usual abrupt, businesslike way, ‘I have a proposal.’
He was instantly on his guard.
She continued regardless. ‘Elaine finds the school holidays difficult,’ she said. ‘Her mother has a busy social life and helps in the Red Cross charity shop in Worcester three times a week.’ She described Daniel’s ex-mother-in-law with more than a hint of disapproval.
‘So Elaine and I have had a little chat.’
Daniel waited.
‘She’s willing to let Holly stay with you for the entire duration of the summer holidays, right up until her wedding in September, provided I am around to care for Holly while you are at work.’ Without allowing him to speak she continued. ‘Needless to say I have discussed this with Holly and she is completely thrilled at the idea. I imagine that you had contemplated having some sort of summer holiday with her, in which case I shall return home during that period to check up that all is well at my own house. Well, Daniel?’
She didn’t exactly give him much time to think about it but the more he did the more he liked the idea. ‘If you’re happy with the idea, mother.’
‘Of course I am, dear boy,’ she said kindly, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t even have brought it up. Now then…’
She went on to discuss arrangements. She would finalise everything with Elaine, which suited Daniel. He didn’t even have to talk to the witch. And another bonus that had occurred to him, even as his mother had been speaking, was that having his mother and daughter stay for the summer gave him the perfect excuse to fend off Marie’s advances.
On the third of July Snape rang him to inform him that probate was almost settled, the niece had accepted the £100,000 out-of-court settlement and that he should be able to take possession of Applegate Cottage some time in September. With an eye to drumming up a bit of extra business, he asked where Daniel was intending on living and, when Daniel said that he wanted to move to Applegate Cottage, he suggested Daniel put The Yellow House on the market. But that wasn’t what Daniel had planned. He’d decided he wanted to make the cottage absolutely perfect before he and, hopefully, Holly moved in. He asked Snape if he could have the keys and inspect the place. He wanted to look around on his own and decide what he needed to do to it.
Snape reluctantly agreed to let him have the keys and Daniel finally visited Applegate Cottage on the eleventh of July, the day before Holly and his mother were due to arrive. It was much as he remembered, except a little smaller, a little darker and very obviously the house of an old woman. Everything in the place was old-fashioned and neglected. It smelt fusty and very slightly damp with a background of lavender and the cloying scent of mothballs. Pieces of Maud Allen’s furniture were still there, heavy, old-fashioned items that seemed too big for the house. He must ask Snape what should be done with them. They were, he assumed, what the niece did not want. Other items had left marks on the carpet where they had lived for years and no longer did – the small square patch where a grandfather clock had stood, four marks where the feet of a card table had been, a few pale patches on the walls where pictures had hung for years. He opened the french windows with difficulty; the key was stiff and the door swollen with damp. They opened straight out into a small paved area set with a rusty table and four chairs and beyond that the wicket gate, which opened out into the paddock. The sound of birdsong greeted him as he stepped outside and, if he half closed his eyes, he could picture the pony grazing in the field. He closed the doors behind him and went upstairs.
There were numerous small rooms, one with a heavy bed which, he assumed, had been where Maud Allen had finally died. It seemed the niece did not want this either. He stood at the bottom for a while, feeling confused about the old woman’s final deed. What had been in her mind? he wondered. Panic? Unhappiness or an acceptance that this was her ultimate act? He glanced out through the window, saw the trees in the orchard and felt a sense of quiet, dignified peace permeate the room. That, he decided, had been her state of mind. She had come to the end of a good life and had wanted to bow out in her own time. He wandered back out onto the landing. The upstairs was bigger than he had remembered. There were three good bedrooms and a decent-sized bathroom and, with a small amount of building work, it would be easy to put in a second shower room, an en suite for him and one for Holly.
He went back downstairs. The kitchen was large but old-fashioned; it had an Aga and another set of french windows which opened straight out onto a second patio. Mossy crazy paving and some pots holding leggy geraniums and a few self-planted weeds. He eyed the kitchen. With some units fitted it could be made very homely. There was easily room for a sizeable dining table, which meant that the second room downstairs could be used as a study.
The house was structurally sound, he’d noted as he’d made his tour – a few window frames were rotten and there was a damp patch in the hall but there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a good builder. £50-60,000 should fix it, he decided, which would leave him well in pocket.
He was just beginning to feel smug when a grey Toyota pulled up outside and a stout, middle-aged woman climbed out stiffly. She glared through the window at him and his heart sank. He’d hoped he would never actually need to meet the niece.
She stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘So you’re Doctor Gregory,’ she said sharply.
He didn’t even attempt to smile.
‘I suppose you’ve come to gloat over your acquisition.’
‘Look,’ he tried to explain, ‘I’m as sad as you are over your aunt’s death. I liked her. I did the best I could. You’ll have your £100,000,’ he added.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she said with heavy and bitter sarcasm. ‘You’ve done very well out of your mistaken diagnosis, haven’t you, Doctor? Well, you don’t mind, I assume, if I collect a few things she left me?’
He shook his head. ‘Help yourself,’ he said, waving her on. ‘Please.’
She flounced past him and disappeared into the house. He drove off with a nasty taste in his mouth. He wished his good fortune had come in some other way.
His mother’s plan was put into practice. She and Holly moved into The Yellow House in the middle of July, as soon as Holly’s school had broken up for the summer, and Daniel readjusted to having the two females living with him. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed it, having two women fussing over him – patronising him even. Holly and her grandmother seemed to almost conspire against him and he often caught them exchanging amused glances across the meal table when he’d said something they found funny or ‘typically male’. The house quickly took on a different air. It was bright, noisy, lively and very happy. He took them to see Applegate Cottage one afternoon and revelled in watching Holly scampering through the orchard, chattering to her imaginary pony, galloping, trotting and finally sedately walking. He even went so far as to take her to the riding school, book her in for lessons and make tentative enquiries about a small, Welsh pony which seemed docile and well behaved. He showed Holly the room that would be hers and arranged to meet a builder at the property. He invited Reeds Rains, the local estate agent, to value The Yellow House, basked in their praise for the property, its position and condition and was pleased when they valued it at £595,000 – well over the price he had expected.
‘You may have to accept less,’ they warned him, ‘if you want a quick sale, but Eccleston is a very desirable area. Near to the M6, yet it’s retained its air of an elegant, Georgian coaching town.’
He assured them he was in no great hurry to sell, which they countered by telling him that putting a property on the market took some time. There were brochures to be printed and approved, advertising to be organised and so on, and they sent someone round to measur
e the rooms and take photographs. In this, too, Holly and his mother took great pride, cleaning the rooms, tidying up and artistically arranging vases of flowers, placing fresh towels in the bathrooms and removing the weeds from the garden that the gardener had missed.
It was a busy summer and Daniel hardly thought about Claudine. Holly didn’t mention her friend and he barely saw either of them. Once he saw Claudine walking up the High Street gripping Bethan by the hand. He gave a little pip on his horn but if she saw him she did not respond or look up and even Bethan seemed to scuttle away, quickening her pace. Luckily Holly hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t sure he could have explained to his daughter why her new friend, who had seemed so sweet, had suddenly decided not to acknowledge her.
In August, Guy Malkin served him in the supermarket, which had now relocated to its new position behind the police station, and informed him that Mrs Anderton had taken Bethan to France for the month. Daniel simply nodded as though it was just another piece of town news.
For the first two weeks of August he had a break with Holly, and his mother moved, as planned, back to her house. He and Holly had hired a cottage in a tiny sailing village called Dale, in Pembrokeshire. They spent the fortnight in the traditional way: beachcombing, jumping waves, visiting the local pub for pasties and chips, and preparing meals on a brick barbecue while the waves lapped at the sea wall. It was a pleasant and peaceful time. He returned to some favourable quotes from the local builder with a jokey note that next time he visited the surgery he expected the same VIP treatment.
He had forgotten about Brian.
But Brian had spent the entire summer thinking about Daniel Gregory. He was a little more relaxed with Claudine safely out of the way across The Channel but equally aware that she would soon be back in Eccleston, with Bethan chattering in French, he thought gloomily. Serve him right for marrying a foreigner, his mother responded with typical sourness.
He would never get any sympathy from her.
Plotting Gregory’s downfall, choosing the date, hiding the petrol can at the back of the garage ready for use, had returned some control to him but it was not quite enough.
He took a perverse delight in the poetic neatness of his plans but it was nothing compared to the pleasure he would take in the destruction of the man he had come to hate.
Claudine returned on the very last day of August and he eyed her with disfavour. She seemed more foreign than ever. Most of her and Bethan’s clothes were new, French, bought by an overindulgent mother who could not believe that he could provide perfectly adequately for his own wife or that the English sold anything of such chic. Claudine even smelt foreign, of garlic and soap, sunshine, perfume and tart red wine.
Within minutes of opening the front door and calling out that she was home, Claudine knew that Brian was no better. In fact he was worse. Much worse. He was glaring at her with contempt, if not hatred. ‘Have a good time, did you?’
She ignored the sarcasm in his tone and gave no response.
‘Enjoy yourself, my dear?’
When she failed to respond he taunted her again.
‘What – no kiss for your beloved husband?’
Her heart sank.
‘And how was your darling mother?’
‘Well?’
Brian turned his attentions on to Bethan. ‘Glad to see me, are you, darling?’
Bethan moved behind her mother. ‘Maman,’ she murmured.
Brian glared at the pair of them.
Claudine staggered upstairs with the suitcases and wondered when she would be packing them again, ready for her return to France.
On the third of September Elaine got married again and Daniel felt good enough to send his ex-wife and her new husband a wedding present; a dozen Waterford Crystal champagne glasses in a presentation box. Inside he enclosed a Best Wishes to the Bride and Groom card.
Sincerely meant. This was obviously what people meant when they used the word finality. His marriage was perfectly and completely ended. A line had been drawn beneath it.
But the product of that marriage still existed.
Having Holly for such a long period had been wonderful. Hard work but such fun. On her last night he sat her and his mother down and asked them how they felt about a new arrangement. Holly stared, round-eyed, at his suggestion that she come and live with him permanently and typically childlike asked, ‘But I will see Mummy?’
‘Of course, darling, you’ll see Mummy. Plenty of her. As much as you like. It’s just that you’ll live in Applegate Cottage with me.’
‘And when you’re at work…?’ his mother put in.
He was silent, knowing she would soon work it out.
She eyed him with some amusement. ‘Are you sure you could cope with me living in the same place?’
Holly was watching her grandmother with her mouth open too.
‘Granny,’ she pleaded.
It was enough to melt her heart. ‘It’ll take some organising,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure. It would mean a huge life-change to move down here.’ She gave him another look, softer this time. ‘I take it you’re not suggesting I live with you.’
‘There are some very nice flats up for sale on the High Street,’ Daniel said. ‘It’s a gated complex with its own swimming pool and gym. I think one of them would suit you very well.’
He couldn’t believe he was doing this, actually inviting his mother to live less than a quarter of a mile away from him but he knew this was a practical solution. It would solve not only his life but his mother’s and Holly’s too.
She nodded, still looking incredulous. ‘It would have certain distinct advantages,’ she said. ‘Is there a bridge club here?’
Daniel laughed. ‘Bound to be,’ he said.
So it was settled. Or so it seemed.
The cottage was about to be legally transferred to him, the builders poised to start the renovations. Elaine took a lot of convincing and there were numerous phone calls and not a few tears. But he could tell that her recent marriage had altered the situation. While Holly liked her mother’s new husband she preferred to live with her father and grandmother who now spoilt her with unguarded indulgence. It had been decided that Holly should stay with her mother until Christmas and then move up to Staffordshire – whether Applegate Cottage was ready or not. Dan had even had a couple of potential buyers view The Yellow House. Both had seemed interested and the estate agent was convinced it would sell quickly.
Daniel was happy with his life.
But because he was so content, imagining that events were sorting themselves out satisfactorily, he was oblivious to what was happening around him.
Vanda’s stomach was expanding day by day, the baby growing nearer to the time when it would no longer be protected by her own body around it. Guy Malkin had moved in with her and his newfound cockiness had made him bold enough to plot. He was working on an audacious plan.
Brian Anderton’s mental state was teetering on the edge of calamity.
And Daniel remained unaware of all but his new, happy family state.
Marie Westbrook was skirting around him, sure that at some point, when the time was ripe, he would pick up the threads of their romance. But she was unconscious to the fact that Daniel was not throwing even the vaguest of glances in her direction.
In that period, as autumn started to shorten the evenings, only one event brought Daniel even near to remembering all that was brewing beneath the surface. Bobby Millin attended the surgery late in October complaining of backache. And when he had examined her, found nothing serious and issued a sick note for a month she gave him a strange look. ‘That baby’ll be born before long,’ she said darkly. ‘Then what’ll happen, do you think, Doctor?’
He stared at her. He didn’t want anything to spoil this new heaven he was busily creating for himself and his mother and daughter. Their weekends were spent supervising the building work, choosing furniture, carpets, curtains and kitchen units, designing and planning. He didn’t want this woman wit
h her messy, damaged family ruining his life.
‘What do the police say?’ he asked sharply.
‘They’re still investigating.’ Her anger made her voice very firm and unfriendly.
‘We-ell.’ Daniel held his hands out. ‘So what can I do?’
She stood up. ‘Nothing,’ she said and left.
Even the Medical Defence Union seemed to be on his side for once. A very nice woman rang him and in the sweetest possible voice relayed the welcome information that they had completed their investigation and their findings were that he had done all he could for Mrs Maud Allen and that, while the circumstances of her death were regrettable, he certainly had nothing to answer for. Daniel gave a whoop of joy the minute he had put the phone down.
But sometimes happiness is unrealistic. It is certainly transient. All states eventually come to an end and happiness is no exception.
One night, late in October, Claudine had walked down to the wine shop. Brian had fancied some beer and it wasn’t worth taking the car. She was glad to escape the oppression of the house. It was suffocating her slowly as though a snake was tightening around her windpipe. She often felt that she could not breathe the same air as her husband. It was terrifying her so much now that in her quiet, lonely moments, she planned her return to France.
The air was freezing that night, a mystic fog making the High Street look like a set from a black and white film, Sherlock Holmes or a Hammer House of Horror. But she welcomed the icy air and simply walked quickly to fend off the chill.
Bad luck – good luck. Guy Malkin spotted her as he locked the door of the Co-op store. She was going to the wine shop, he surmised. He waited until she came out, her wicker basket heavy on her arm. If he walked a few paces behind her she would not hear. There was always some background noise – a car, music, people talking. But when she turned into the alley it would be quiet and still.
The Watchful Eye Page 20
