An Old Score

by Edie Baylis

  Mike and Heath had made the right choice coming to her. Well, the right choice for her, anyway. Regardless of what she’d agreed when leaving their poxy showroom, if they thought they’d get anything from this either, they were more stupid that they looked!

  Now she knew, along with the sordid secret, what that wizened old slapper was hiding somewhere in that bloody house, then she would be the only one benefitting from it.

  Helen fired the Mercedes engine into life. The urge to call Robert and scream ‘your father was a murderer’, was intense, but she’d save that. She had to. Once the purchase of the apartment at Oak Apple Residential Home had finalised, she’d get him to help her clear Footlights out, then she’d sell the place from under both their noses.

  Helen sneered to herself. Not that she’d need the money once she’d located those pink diamonds, although they’d take a bit of time to sell, but she could wait.

  Once all that was done and dusted, then, and only then, would she hit Robert with the truth about his parentage. Then he could fuck right off out of her life. If she never saw him again it would be too soon.

  Thirty Five

  TEAGAN COULDN’T QUASH the nagging unrest since getting back to Footlights and realising she hadn’t got her keys. Even though she usually kept them in her bag, it was possible as she’d dashed out the front door earlier she’d inadvertently left them on the table in the hall.

  Luckily, when she’d been forced to ring the bell, Dulcie had answered the door. She’d explained she’d forgotten her keys, but Dulcie had just wandered back upstairs without saying a word.

  Teagan had looked everywhere since. She’d emptied her handbag out twice, checked the hall table, the kitchen, the bedroom – everywhere and there was still no sign of her keys. She brushed her hand against the pocket of her trousers for the umpteenth time in the hope of feeling the outline of the keyring, but there was nothing.

  Now she had little choice but to start thinking she may have lost them. They could well have dropped out of her pocket at any point whilst walking down the road to the shop. She hadn’t been paying attention with what she was doing and she could have put them in her pocket rather than her bag and they might have easily fallen out.

  What would that look like to Dulcie or Helen? She’d have to tell them if she couldn’t find them. She’d even called Joe to see if she’d dropped them in his car, but his mobile had gone straight to voicemail.

  Teagan sighed. She’d been so relieved to hear that all this business with those men was over and now she’d gone and lost the bloody keys! How irresponsible. She might as well have agreed to give them to Joe for all the good she’d done.

  Well, she couldn’t do anything about it now, so if they hadn’t turned up by teatime then she’d have to arrange to get the locks changed.

  Teagan wiped her clammy hands against the material of her trousers and headed up the stairs. Where had Dulcie got to? Her head was so mashed it had completely slipped her mind to ask whether Dulcie was planning to go to her weekly bowls trip this afternoon.

  Walking across the landing, Teagan paused hearing movement. She poked her head around the door of the pink bedroom, seeing Dulcie perched on the edge of the ornate bed, a large wooden box in her hands. ‘Dulcie? Are you planning to go to bowls today?’

  Startled, Dulcie swung around, the box in her hands clattering to the floor.

  ‘Sorry!’ Teagan smiled, entering the room. She headed towards the wooden box upturned on the floor the other side of the bed. ‘Here, let me get that for you.’

  ‘Leave it!’ Dulcie screeched, scrambling to her feet quicker than seemed possible. ‘Do not touch that! It’s personal.’

  Freezing to the spot, Teagan shivered as Dulcie’s cold bright blue eyes penetrated her. ‘I didn’t mean to infringe on y...’

  ‘Just leave me be!’ Dulcie spat, glaring at Teagan as she backed out of the room.

  Back on the landing, Teagan leant against the wall, shaken. She couldn’t go on like this, she really couldn’t. As much as she hated to admit it, Dulcie was beginning to scare her – like really scare her. She’d promised herself that she was going to put that rug and furniture back that Dulcie had somehow moved during the night, but she didn’t dare now.

  Feeling a hand on her arm, Teagan flinched and turned quickly.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ Dulcie said, her voice contrite and her eyes no longer cold. ‘I-I don’t know what came over me.’

  Seeing the older lady wobble, Teagan reached out to steady her and reminded herself that this woman couldn’t help her outbursts. She was ill, not nasty. ‘It’s ok.’

  Dulcie grasped harder on Teagan’s arm. ‘No, it’s not. I’m not usually like this, I know I’m not.’ Her bottom lip wobbled. ‘It’s those pills - those pills Helen makes me take. They’re doing this to me, I know they are.’

  Teagan sighed despondently, but nodded sympathetically. ‘Would you like me to speak to her about it? I could explain that you think the tablets don’t suit you. Would that help?’

  Dulcie shook her head. ‘She won’t listen. She never does. I told you before, she’s trying to poison me.’

  Teagan felt like screaming. She wasn’t cut out for this. She didn’t have the knowhow to deal with this now the illness had progressed so badly. She was out of her depth and as much as she hated to admit it, the sooner Helen could get her into somewhere with the proper resources, the better. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll speak to her anyway.’

  She had no intention of saying anything. They were only vitamins, for God’s sake, but if saying that quietened Dulcie down for now, then so be it.

  Seemingly placated, Dulcie happily wandered off down the landing back to the pink bedroom and Teagan shook her head in frustration. She was just about to follow, remembering she still hadn’t asked about bowls, but her train of thought was interrupted hearing the doorbell ring.

  ‘OPEN THE DOOR PROPERLY otherwise it looks suspicious,’ Joe hissed as Teagan opened the door a crack.

  He glanced over his shoulder nervously, convinced he’d been followed. It wasn’t a question of being paranoid anymore. It was more than feasible – possibly guaranteed that someone was actually watching him all the time. Things were no longer a figment of his imagination, no matter how much he wished they were.

  ‘What is it?’ Teagan asked. ‘I don’t think it will be long before Dulcie’s moved into a home, so please don’t tell me there’s more trouble? I-I just can’t take any more.’

  ‘Hey no, it’s nothing like that.’ Joe tried his best to look normal as he reached into his pocket, pulling out Teagan’s keyring and glanced at it to make sure he hadn’t instead pulled out the copies he’d just had made at the cobblers. ‘I thought you might want these? I missed your call cos I left my phone in the car whilst I went into the undertakers to make an appointment for... you know... for Alan.’

  Teagan stared at the keys in Joe’s hand. ‘Oh thank God for that. I thought I’d lost them. Where were they?’

  ‘In the footwell in the car. They must have fallen out of your pocket or bag or something. I wouldn’t have even noticed them had I not specially looked after getting your message.’

  Teagan smiled and took the keys. ‘Thanks,’ she smiled, feeling guilty that the thought had crossed her mind that he’d pinched them after all. He didn’t need them anyway – it was over. Besides, despite all of Joe’s faults, he wasn’t a thief. ‘I’d better go back in, but thanks for bringing them round.’

  Joe smiled sadly. ‘No problem.’ Turning, he made his way away from the house.

  Helen pushed past Joe as she walked up the steps. ‘Who’s that? Another visitor?’ She eyed Joe unappraisingly as he sloped off rapidly down the path. ‘A different one this time? I must say I preferred the one from last night.’ No she didn’t. Heath Pointer was a manipulative shit.

  Teagan was horrified. Helen was looking at her like she ran a knocking shop! ‘No, no it’s not like that.’

  Helen frowned. ‘Who was it
then? Did I not see him giving you keys? He looked like a tramp!’

  Teagan’s cheeks burnt. Helen had seen Joe hand over the keys? Oh God. ‘He’s my ex. He... erm... he gave me his set of keys back to our flat.’ The flat they never had.

  Helen’s nose wrinkled in derision. ‘Ex, you say? Probably wise. The man here last night was a lot more palatable than that one.’ Had Heath been in contact with Teagan yet? She’d told him to keep things going with her for the time being. She’d let the stupid prat think she was on his side and up for splitting things, but he’d soon find out the hard way, the stupid boy.

  Teagan heard Joe’s car start from somewhere down the road. She knew it was his from that screeching sound it made when the engine first turned over and she eyed Helen, hoping to God she didn’t suspect anything. The woman would go crazy at her if she knew she’d almost lost the keys to Footlights whilst sneaking out this morning. And she couldn’t say she’d blame her.

  Helen didn’t look too good either – in fact, she looked frazzled and stressed. ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ Teagan spluttered. ‘It wasn’t what it looked like.’

  Helen dismissed the apology. ‘As it turns out, I’ve met Darren Harding before. He viewed one of our properties only last week.’

  ‘Really? I...’

  ‘Anyway, it’s neither here nor there because we’ve got more important things to deal with.’ Helen breezed past Teagan into the hallway of Footlights and beckoned her in. ‘Mother gone to bowls, I take it?’

  Teagan shook her head. ‘No, she’s upstairs. I don’t know if sh...’

  ‘Damn,’ Helen spat. Grabbing Teagan’s arm, she pulled her into the sitting room. This wasn’t part of the plan and made things more difficult, but she had to get on with it.

  Still smarting from the revelations of earlier today, Helen knew she had to move on this fast. Her anger towards her mother was fast bubbling to a point she couldn’t contain. Despite her general dislike for the woman who gave birth to her, it had surprised her to find that as well as being angrier than she thought possible, she also felt the unfamiliar pain of hurt. And that was making her more incensed than the anger.

  How she would keep her ire under wraps whilst her plan came to fruition, she didn’t know, but she’d have to try. What she did know though, was that she wouldn’t hang around waiting to get her hands on what her mother had stashed somewhere in this dump of a house. She looked around frantically. She’d rip the whole place apart if she had to.

  Teagan looked at Helen and felt herself begin to panic. Her head was hot and her breathing fast. She tried to calm down - going into a full-blown panic attack right now would help no one. ‘I-Is there any news? You know, about a place for Dulcie?’ She asked quietly, glancing towards the door, hoping that Dulcie was still far too preoccupied upstairs with whatever she was doing in the pink room to hear.

  ‘That’s why I’m here,’ Helen said, also glancing around. ‘I’m...’

  ‘It’s just that I’m ever so worried,’ Teagan cut in. ‘Dulcie’s convinced those pills are poisoning her.’

  Helen nearly choked. ‘Is she not taking them?’ Had her whore of a mother worked it out? Had the lying, treacherous cow put two and two together?

  ‘Oh yes, she’s taking them. I watch her and make sure of it, but she’s had another turn... It’s getting really bad now.’

  Helen felt her racing heart stabilise. Thank God. If her mother had had another turn – and one so good to significantly worry this stupid girl, then the pills were definitely working well. The changed dosage must have been spot on. ‘How can I be poisoning her? Vitamins don’t poison people!’

  ‘I know that.’ Teagan mirrored Helen’s exasperation. ‘But she’s convinced.’

  ‘Look, I need you to help to make sure mother doesn’t interfere. I’m here because I need to start getting some of her things together.’ Helen’s mouth formed a makeshift smile as she placed a hand on Teagan’s shoulder. ‘It’s good news. Robert and I have found a place and we’re hoping to get her settled in there within the next week or so.’

  She was sure Robert’s cash and her contacts in the industry could push the solicitor’s habit of slow paperwork through in a matter of days, rather than the usual six weeks. There was no bloody mortgage, therefore she was not paying a solicitor money to sit on their arse and drag things out for weeks, purely to justify their extortionate fee.

  ‘Wow, that was quick!’ Teagan exclaimed, brightening somewhat. ‘Shall I help you sort some of her clothes and things out? What will she need to ta...’

  ‘No, I’ll deal with that,’ Helen said brusquely. ‘I need to locate some paperwork first.’ She fixed her scrutiny on Teagan. ‘You need to keep her out of the way though. I don’t want her to know I’m digging around. You know yourself how erratic she is and I can’t risk her having any inkling about this until the last minute.’

  Helen pulled her best distressed expression out of the bag on cue. ‘This will be awful for her, but it’s for the best.’

  Teagan nodded. ‘I completely understand. I’ll try my best to keep her occupied.’

  ‘Appreciated. If she thinks I’m going through her stuff, she’ll only come up with more bizarre accusations. It’s horrible to think she hates me so much...’ Helen sniffed dramatically, successfully managing to hide her scathing thoughts. If only she knew... What goes around, comes around, mother dear...

  She smiled sadly at Teagan. ‘I’m sorry all of this will mean your contract coming to an end prematurely. I hope it doesn’t cause too much inconvenience - you’ve been a wonderful help. Robert and I were discussing only yesterday that if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t know of the extent of mother’s deterioration until it was much too late. And I dread to think what might have happened...’

  Teagan blinked. She hadn’t thought of being out of a job.

  ‘Of course, it goes without saying that we will honour the full six months fee for your services.’

  Teagan gasped. ‘Really? Thank you, that’s very good of you.’

  Helen gave a tight-lipped smile. Yes, it was, wasn’t it? Although Robert would be the one picking up the bill. He’d like that.

  She swallowed a giggle. Robert would be livid, but tough luck. He could be bitter all he liked. He had no reason though – after all, it was his father who had killed hers, she was sure of it. He should be apologising on behalf of that bloody man, but more than anyone, her mother should be apologising. Not that she would – she was far too busy telling poisonous lies.

  ‘Right!’ Helen clasped her hands together. ‘I’ll make a start.’ And whilst her mother was upstairs, that start would be in the cellar. No one ever went down there because it was more full of junk than the rest of the house and therefore the most likely place to stash something.

  HELEN SCREECHED TO AN ABRUPT STOP on the drive, her spinning tyres spraying gravel in all directions.

  Yanking her handbag from the front seat, her neck tensed even more spotting the curtains twitch in the lounge at the front of the house. James looking at her again. All the bloody time.

  She was in a bad enough mood already without him adding to it. Every single thing he did grated on her nerve endings and it was getting worse and worse. She’d had enough. Once all of this was done she would start divorce proceedings against him.

  Helen stamped up the drive, flicking her blonde bob out of her eyes impatiently. She should never have married him in the first place – a totally pointless endeavour. And one she would be deleting as soon as time allowed.

  Letting herself into the house, she put her handbag on the hall table, slipped her jacket off, hanging it neatly on the coat stand and then threw her car keys on the table.

  She glanced in the mirror, her teeth clenched, waiting for it. Just waiting...

  ‘You’re home!’ James cried, walking out of the lounge to kiss her, pretending not to notice her move swiftly out of the way.

  ‘Yes, I’m home,’ Helen snapped. ‘Like you knew full well I wa
s because you were looking out of the window when I pulled up.’

  Pushing past, she walked into the large open plan lounge and through into the dining kitchen, scowling at the table laid for dinner, the smell of something herby coming from the oven.

  She knew he’d pretend to be glad she was home. She wasn’t glad she was home. She couldn’t bear it. James’ stupid questions, the sound of his voice, the way he looked at her with his gormless face... He was driving her crazy following her around all the time like a lost puppy.

  The dislike she’d felt for her husband the past few years had now officially turned into hatred. That was right. She hated him. He made everything worse.

  Heading straight for the glass of red wine James had thoughtfully poured for her, Helen slugged it back in one go and reached for the bottle for a top up.

  ‘Good day?’ James asked, trailing her into the kitchen.

  Helen scowled. Why did he ask that? Why did he always ask that? Did it look like she’d had a good day?

  No it didn’t, so why ask? Why not say sod all?

  Helen’s teeth clenched so hard she was sure she’d just felt a bit come away from one of her back ones. Be civil, she chanted silently. ‘No, the day hasn’t been particularly good. I’ve been busy with clients,’ she muttered, finishing the second glass of wine.

  Seeing James’ eyes linger on her empty glass, Helen knew he was itching to make a comment about it, but James being James, never would. The pathetic pointless little worm.

  ‘I’ve made an Italian chicken and pasta for dinner,’ James said brightly as he walked over to the oven, pointlessly peering through the glass. ‘It shouldn’t be much longer now.’ He moved back to the table. ‘Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you a top up o...’

  ‘I don’t want to sit down!’ Helen snapped. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Why couldn’t he just bugger off. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

  James smiled, silently ignoring his wife’s rudeness. ‘Clients today, you say? I called the office earlier – just to check to see if you were alright and they said th...’