Bea grimaced. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but for some reason she hadn’t been altogether convinced that super-nanny was as super as she’d claimed to be. ‘Right. Well, I’ll be upstairs if you need me for anything else.’
Bea usually made a point of being in the agency on Saturday mornings, but today she left Betty trying to contact Mel while she went back upstairs to start breakfast, ensure the girls were getting up, make lists of who she needed to contact, and check if she had enough extra food for the weekend.
William hadn’t yet returned, so Bea used her landline to contact Dilys, Bernice’s mother, reminding herself to Handle with Care. Dilys was a sweetie but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Bea had a bet with herself that Dilys would flap and worry and basically be unable to cope.
And that’s what Dilys did. Flap and dither. Dilys had just got to the point of saying it would be much the best for Bernice to stay with Bea when the two girls came into the kitchen, wearing two more of Bea’s T-shirts over their own clean tights, but no shoes. They’d brushed one another’s hair out and looked all right at first glance.
Bea motioned the children to take a seat while saying, ‘But yes, I quite understand you can’t cope at the moment, Dilys. Chickenpox is awful. And you didn’t get a wink of sleep? Well, of course I can keep Bernice here today and kit her out with some fresh clothes. She’s just come in and is dying to speak to you.’
Bea handed the phone over to Bernice, whose stoical expression told Bea that the girl didn’t expect anything much in the way of loving care from her mother. The child said ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ at appropriate intervals and, finally, ended the conversation with, ‘Of course I understand. And yes, I think Aunt Sybil’s in Boston this weekend. I expect Uncle Leon will tell her.’
Bea laid out breakfast things for the girls: orange juice, cereal and toast. Alicia was carrying Teddy, whom she placed on a stool beside her. Bea blinked. Something about Teddy was not quite right. Then she got it; Teddy was wearing one of Bea’s handkerchiefs round his neck, and Bea’s diamond earrings. Oh. The girls had made free with Bea’s wardrobe, hadn’t they? And her toiletries, too, by the look of it. Was that a trace of lipstick on each?
Bernice put the phone down and looked Bea straight in the eye. ‘You can’t rely on some people, can you?’ Her eyes were heavy-lidded. Her unchildlike, deep voice didn’t waver. She was indeed a little soldier, was Bernice.
Bea sighed. ‘You can only rely on people to be themselves. They do love you, you know. We’ll get on to your uncle Leon and your great-aunt in a couple of hours when they’re up and about, and find out what plans they have for you.’
Alicia said, ‘What about Mrs Frost? Mummy needs such a lot of looking after. If she’s hurt her arm, she won’t be able to do anything about the house. Not that she does much, anyway.’ Her tone was dispassionate. Another child accustomed to fending for herself.
Bea nodded. ‘I’ll ring the hospital and find out how she is, in a minute. You don’t happen to have your uncle Steve’s number, do you, by any chance? No. Well, it was just a thought. Meanwhile, eat up, and by the time you’ve finished there’ll be someone here with some brand-new clothes for you to wear. You can help me by putting the breakfast things into the dishwasher and then go upstairs to make the bed and tidy the room. And please return my jewellery to my dressing table straight away.’
The children tried to work out how seriously they needed to take Bea’s words, and concluded that, yes, they’d better behave. Alicia pretended to feed Teddy’s mouth with some cereal.
Bernice said, ‘Eat up, Teddy, or you’ll never grow up to be a big boy.’
Alicia pushed her lower lip out. ‘He can’t grow any bigger, anyway. He’s only a bear.’
‘He can if he wants to.’
Bea left them to it. She used the extension in the living room to ring Leon. Her call went to voicemail. Presumably he wasn’t out of bed yet.
The doorbell rang. It was William Morton. He’d had a shave somewhere and dressed in clothing he’d no doubt just bought that morning; a navy blue sweater over a white shirt, well-cut dark trousers, slip-on shoes. He was carrying a holdall, also new. He hoisted a huge arrangement of flowers up the steps and into the hall. ‘For you,’ he said. ‘Already in water so you don’t need to do anything with them. How are the children? Are they up yet? I’ve got myself another phone, and a spare you can use till yours is charged up again.’
‘The children are coping pretty well, all things considered. And trying my patience. Thank you for the flowers, though there really was no need—’
‘There was every need. I bought a couple of sparkly T-shirts for the girls. I understand they like such things.’
‘They’re in the kitchen, having breakfast. I’ve got someone going out to buy them some clothes. Come into the sitting room.’ She led the way, and closed the door behind them. ‘I’ve been on to Bernice’s mother, and got permission for her to stay on here for the time being. I asked Alicia if she had Steve’s telephone number, so that I could ask him about Mrs Frost. She didn’t have it.’
William set the flowers down on an occasional table and fished a couple of phones out of his holdall. ‘This one is new, for you. The other one is your old one. Everyone’s got this number of yours, so I’ve been getting calls all morning. First; Daphne’s been stitched up but is being kept in hospital because she’s running a temperature.’
In a flat tone, Bea said, ‘Alicia seems resigned to not having her mother around.’
In an equally flat tone, he said, ‘Daphne’s looks are very important to her.’
They both understood that Daphne lacked the maternal instinct.
He said, ‘As to Alicia; I’ve been on to Steve, who says it’s all right with him you having Alicia overnight, but I have to get Alaric’s permission to take the child home with me for a few days before she goes back to school.’
‘Alaric …?’
‘Sitting opposite you last night. Daphne’s second husband, who adopted Alicia when he married her mother. True, he and Daphne are in the process of divorcing, but legally he and Daphne are still jointly responsible for Alicia at the moment. So far I haven’t been able to get through to him, but I’ve left messages on his phone, so I hope he’ll get back to me soonest. Steve spoke to the hospital where they took Mrs Frost; she hasn’t yet regained consciousness. He stayed at the family house till dawn and is now trying to deal with firemen and investigators and insurance people and solicitors and Josh’s death. Oh yes, and a fire investigator is coming round here this morning to talk to the children.’
‘They’re going to try to blame the fire on the children, aren’t they?’
FIVE
Saturday, mid-morning
Bea lit the simulated gas log fire in the sitting room.
Her central heating was adequate, but on a cold and dreary winter’s day it was a good idea to have the fire on. Besides which, Bea told herself that if she didn’t light it now she might never be able to face doing so again.
William hovered, hands in pockets, frowning.
She said, ‘Do sit down. Have you had any breakfast?’
‘Coffee and a bun. It’ll do me.’ He still didn’t sit down, but walked around the room, looking at the books, the pictures. He was trying to get a feel of what she was like from her surroundings? He seemed to approve of the Adam-style fireplace with the gilt-framed mirror over it; the comfortable easy chairs and the settees with their deep, loose cushions; the big side lamps. He nodded in recognition of the quality of the mahogany dining table and chairs in the bay window overlooking the street, but stopped for a while at the other end of the room to look at the portrait of her husband hanging on the wall above her writing table.
Still looking at the portrait, he said, ‘How are you related to Bernice?’
‘No relation. Friend of the family. Bernice’s mother married for the first time when she was very young. Her husband was a no-gooder who abused her. When he was killed, Dilys found
it difficult to cope. She’s very sweet but she dithers. She’s remarried to a decent man who looks after her beautifully, and they’ve produced a little boy who has gone down with chickenpox. The three of them are so bound up with one another that … don’t get me wrong, they love Bernice, but—’
‘She’s surplus to requirements.’
Bea winced. He was right, of course, but nobody had put the situation so bluntly before. ‘Leon is her great-uncle and he adores her, but he’s not exactly domesticated. His sister Sybil has sort of adopted Bernice, but Sybil lives mostly in the States and is really too old to look after the child properly. Bernice has brains. She herself opted for boarding school, and she seems to be thriving in that environment, especially since she made friends with Alicia. It’s just the holidays which can be difficult. She was supposed to go to her mother’s this half-term but then … the chickenpox … which is why Alicia suggested Bernice stayed with her. I’ve spoken to Dilys this morning, and she’s happy for me to look after the child till she goes back to school.’
‘Who is the child’s legal guardian?’
Bea frowned. ‘I suppose her mother is, though I believe it’s Sybil who pays her school fees. You are making me uneasy. Do you really think that’s going to become an issue?’
‘I hope not.’
Bea didn’t know what to make of William Morton. He’d behaved well under difficult circumstances. No, he’d behaved admirably, but she had a feeling he was not being completely open about something.
She turned her head to listen for … what? Ah. It occurred to her that the girls were being far too quiet. Was this a case of ‘Find Tommy and tell him to stop it’? They were nice kids but they’d been through a traumatic experience and one of the ways children let off steam was by doing something they knew they ought not to do, in order to attract attention.
Bea considered that, as of this very moment, they were being just too quiet. Making the excuse that she needed coffee, she went out to the kitchen to find the breakfast things still on the table, a chill wind blowing through the house, and the kitchen door wide open. The girls had gone down the iron staircase into the garden, where they were trying to coax Winston off the roof of the garden shed. Winston, being a canny cat, knew perfectly well they couldn’t reach him, and so was ignoring them.
Bea called out, ‘Alicia! Bernice! What are you thinking of! You’ll catch your death of cold. Come back inside, at once!’
They obeyed, dragging their feet.
‘We weren’t doing any harm.’ Alicia, lower lip well out.
‘Teddy wanted to play with the cat. Winston could have got away if he’d wanted to.’ Bernice had the toy bear in tow. Bea noticed, with some annoyance, that the bear was still wearing her earrings.
Bea shut and bolted the kitchen door, seized the bear, removed her earrings and put them on herself. ‘I thought I asked you to clear the breakfast things and make the bed.’
‘Don’t you have a cleaner?’ Alicia, on the verge of rudeness.
Bernice was sharp enough to interpret Bea’s annoyance correctly. ‘We were just going to do it.’
The front doorbell rang. Bea went to open it and found Mel, the fair-haired girl from the agency, on the doorstep. Mel was sensibly dressed in a leather jacket over jeans and boots, was wearing a minimum of makeup and was – thank the Lord – laden with packages for the children.
‘I hope I haven’t got too much, Mrs Abbot. I can always take back what doesn’t fit.’
Bea drew her inside. ‘Mel, you are brilliant. Did Betty fill you in about what’s happened? Yes? Good. Now, the children are on edge and inclined to be mischievous. Do you think you can cope?’
‘Sure. I’m one of four, well spaced out. Our house is chaos and I’m happy to escape for a few hours.’
‘Can you give me the rest of the day? Bless you.’ She called out, ‘Alicia, Bernice; this is Mel, who’s been out shopping for new clothes for you. I suggest you take her upstairs and try everything on.’
The girls inspected Mel. Mel inspected the girls.
‘I hear you’ve had a big adventure,’ said Mel. ‘I’d love to hear all about it. Why don’t you show me where you’re sleeping and we can see if the clothes I’ve brought will fit you?’
The girls took Mel upstairs, chattering away about the fire and how they’d been rescued, while Bea set about clearing away the breakfast things and making some coffee.
The front doorbell rang again.
A stranger stood on the doorstep. A woman: Asian, stocky, black hair in a chin-length bob, intelligent eyes. She was wearing a dark blue suit. Not a police uniform.
Bea’s heartbeat went into overdrive.
The woman produced a smile, and showed a badge. A fire investigator.
‘Mrs Abbot? About the fire last night. I’m told you very kindly took the two girls in overnight. And you,’ she turned to William, who had followed Bea into the hall, ‘are William Morton? Is that right? You helped to rescue the girls? I understand, Mrs Abbot, that you have parental consent to look after them. Splendid. I’d very much like to have a little chat with them now, if convenient.’
William said, ‘Do you have a warrant?’
‘Goodness me, no. No need for that.’ The woman smiled. A pleasant smile, backed by a strong personality. Bea had heard that it took years of training to become a fire investigator. You needed a background in forensics, a grounding in crime detection and, last but not least, the ability to assess character.
This woman was British born and well-educated. The slightest of sibilance in her voice? No fool. No. At present she was being friendly. Long might that last.
Bea waved the woman into the sitting room. ‘Come in and sit down. I was just making some coffee. Will you have some? The children are upstairs. They’ve had a reasonably good night. I sent one of my agency girls out for some clothes for them to wear and they’ve gone upstairs to try them on. I’ll call them down in a minute.’
The woman preceded them into the big room and looked around. ‘No sprinkler system in the ceiling?’
Bea said, ‘Putting a sprinkler system in these old houses would mean first installing a false ceiling. We’ve got two fire extinguishers in the kitchen, and fire blankets as well.’
The woman spread out her hands to the fire. ‘You don’t often see an open fire in this part of London. You have central heating, I see. Do the girls like an open fire?’
‘I have no idea.’ Bea felt she’d been wrong-footed. ‘They haven’t been in this room yet. I put the fire on for myself because I was afraid that if I didn’t, I’d never be able to do so again.’
‘Ah yes. You were caught up in the fire last night, too? Would you like to tell me about it?’
Bea excused herself. ‘William can tell you what happened. I’ll get the coffee.’ She shut the door behind her and went into the kitchen to make a quick phone call. Brr, Brr. Brr, Brr. ‘Leon, answer the phone!’ Finally, he did.
‘Leon, Bea here. Are you up and awake? I’ve got a fire investigator here wanting to talk to the girls. I have a horrid feeling that she’ll think they started the fire. Can you get here, quickly?’
‘What? Well, no, I can’t. I’m on my way to the hospital right now. Daphne’s had a bad night and someone’s got to break the news about her father to—’
‘Leon, she’s got two brothers who could—’
‘Steve’s at the house, hasn’t slept, is holding everything together, but—’
‘What about Gideon? And, for heaven’s sake, what about her two husbands?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, come on! She only ever has one husband at a time. And I understand the present boyfriend passes out at the sight of blood.’
Bea told herself to calm down. ‘Leon, I’m getting a weird idea. Is the family setting you up to become her fourth husband?’
A long pause. Then, ‘It’s not like that. I’m not in the market for … Bea, you know I’m not! But Daphne needs someone to … in the absence of her father … and Steve does
n’t know which way to turn. I couldn’t refuse to help.’
‘Sorry. Yes. That was in bad taste.’ Didn’t Bea know well enough that Leon could be flattered by the attentions of a pretty woman but had no intention of committing himself to marriage?
Nevertheless, ‘I don’t see why you should be dragged into their affairs when your great-niece needs you here.’
‘You’ll be looking after her though, won’t you? Of course you will. Look, I’ll drop by later, when Daphne’s settled down.’
‘Promise me one thing, that you’ll phone Sybil now, and ask her to come back straight away.’
‘Sure. Sure. I’ll be with you about lunchtime, I suppose. Shall we take the girls out somewhere nice to eat?’
Bea shut off the phone, made a cafetiere of coffee, put mugs and some soft drinks on a tray and took it into the sitting room. William wasn’t there.
But the fire investigator was. She had a notebook out and what looked like a small recorder had been placed on a nearby table. She said, ‘Coffee? Lovely. And what beautiful flowers. Your friend has told me what happened last night. My colleagues say you and he were heroic, carrying women and children out of danger. He’s gone upstairs to see what the girls are doing.’
Implied criticism: Why am I being kept waiting?
Bea served coffee. ‘Knowing girls, they’re probably changing their minds every two minutes about what they’re going to wear. He’s brought them some clothes as well.’
The woman produced a form. ‘While we’re waiting, perhaps you can fill this in for me? I need parental permission to talk to the girls. Alicia’s grandfather has signed for her, but I’m not quite sure what relation you are to Bernice?’
‘None,’ said Bea. ‘I’m a family friend. However, I’ve been in touch this morning with Bernice’s mother and her great-uncle, both of whom have asked me to take care of her until they can make other arrangements for the child. I’ll give you their phone numbers so that you can contact them direct, shall I?’ And she reeled them off. ‘You can check with them while I go and yell at the girls, right?’
False fire Page 6
