‘I've just been on the phone to her. She's not able to have him this weekend.’
Silence.
‘I know,’ said Ellie. ‘It's not right. Frank's going to be upset, and you've made other arrangements and Diana didn't even tell me why she can't have him this weekend.’
Maria was a remarkably fair-minded woman, and although anyone else would have shouted at Ellie, Maria didn't. She sighed instead. ‘That's the second weekend in a row. It's bad for Frank to be messed around like this. Now how are we going to manage? We've arranged to go with my parents to a family wedding in Southall. It wouldn't be appropriate to take Frank with us.’
Ellie grimaced. No, it wouldn't. If he threw one of his tantrums in front of a room full of nicely brought-up Patels … No, it didn't bear thinking about. Ellie anticipated Maria's next question.
‘You want me to have him for the day? I don't think I can. Not this morning, anyway. Suppose you take him with you for the morning, and then if he gets fractious, perhaps Stewart can bring him over to me, and I'll look after him this afternoon?’ She wondered how she'd cope with serving coffee, builders, police, Felicity and possibly another visit from Marco.
‘We'll do that,’ said Maria. ‘Now I've got to go and break the bad news to Frank.’ She tried to laugh. ‘You'll probably hear his howls of protest where you are.’
Ellie put the phone down. Kate had been listening, of course.
Ellie said, ‘Diana!’ As if that explained everything, which it did.
Kate nodded. ‘Are you OK? I thought I heard you moving around in the night and wondered if you'd disturbed another burglar.’ She grinned. ‘I tried to nudge Armand awake enough to come round to see if you were all right, but he was out to the world.’
‘I'm OK. Just. There's something else you need to know; someone ran down one of Chris Talbot's sons yesterday. Broke his leg. Not Sir Arthur. Not Marco, if we assume it was him over here.’
‘Oh.’ Kate fished out her mobile phone, and keyed in a number. Ellie's doorbell rang. It was Chris Talbot's chauffeur. Ellie recognized him, and was happy enough to hand over the bag of bloodied swabs, enquiring whether Mr Talbot were all right this morning.
‘Sure he is.’ Irish? Second generation? Large and reliablelooking.
Kate was walking about, listening to her mobile when Ellie got back. She nodded several times, said she'd get on to it, and switched off. ‘Ellie, I've just spoken to Mr Talbot and he said you should fill me in on your talk yesterday. Armand's looking after Catriona while he marks some papers, so we've got a minute.’
Kate was a good listener. When she'd finished, Ellie sat back watching Kate test all the links in the chain in her head. ‘Basically, you've been caught up between a couple of feuding heavyweights.’
‘I know, and I've promised to try to befriend Felicity. I dread to think what Sir Arthur will make of that. What do I do to protect myself, Kate?’
Nine
Kate said, ‘Let me think.’ She couldn't sit still, but moved around the kitchen, picking things up and putting them down again.
‘The restructuring of the corporation is only one aspect of the ongoing feud between the two men. If Sir Arthur is forced out, he loses face and a fortune and that's why he's fighting it. But the City wants the restructuring to go through, and the City knows how to bring pressure to bear here, and offer an “incentive” there. Sir Arthur will come out of it well enough, provided he sees reason and doesn't insist on carrying the feud to its logical conclusion.’
‘Doesn't his resorting to force mean that he's lost his sense of balance?’
Kate went all broody.
Ellie persisted. ‘This feud has been going on for years, and presumably everyone thought this restructuring - whether it meant Sir Arthur came out of it with a golden handshake or not - would be conducted in the boardroom as usual. But Sir Arthur left the boardroom behind when he attacked Julian Talbot. Isn't that going to upset the City? Are they really going to encourage Sir Arthur to look for a handout, if he's gone over the edge?’
Kate's brows twitched, and her hand strayed to her mobile. ‘I don't know. I'll have to check. I'll speak to Gwyn. He needs to know what's happening.’
Ellie shoved her breakfast things into the sink and poured water on them. ‘Of course, Sir Arthur will disclaim all knowledge of the attack on young Julian, and even if we can link Marco with the assault on my conservatory, Sir Arthur can deny he was involved. But he's been involved in all sorts of other shady deals recently, such as the plan to redevelop the vicarage site. Oughtn't you to tell your boss about them too?’
Kate was dubious. ‘Look, I know I don't go to church much, but I do value it and it has a place in my life. I saw there was a meeting about it, and I would have gone but … what with the baby and all. Tell me.’
Ellie filled Kate in, while rapidly washing the dishes and leaving them to dry on the rack. ‘… so now I'm worried about what Sir Arthur might do to Roy. Can he really force Roy to come up with all that money?’
‘Not if there's nothing in writing.’
‘I agree. I advised him to consult his mother, but he didn't want to because it might make her think badly of him.’ And he might have been stupid enough to sign something, even though he said he didn't.
Kate brushed this aside. ‘Sir Arthur is not a nice man, but everyone knows that already. It's not worth bothering Gwyn with.’
Ellie said, ‘What about Sir Arthur's promise to give the widow of his first architect some money if Roy produced the right sort of plans for him?’
Kate frowned. ‘A generous gesture, which was then withdrawn. Hardly illegal.’
Ellie grinned, thinking of what the resourceful Mrs Anderson had done to make Sir Arthur pay up. ‘Roy does feel threatened, though. Look, I'll phone him now, and you can listen in, judge for yourself.’ She tried his home number. No reply. Left a message. Hunted down his mobile number, and tried that. He answered on the third ring.
‘Roy!’ She was surprised at how relieved she felt to hear him sounding normal. ‘Sorry I couldn't make supper last night. I didn't get your message till too late. How are you? Have you heard from Sir Arthur?’
‘Several times. He's being polite but with an undercurrent of menace, assuming I'll fall in with his plans. He's commanded me to go down to his country house this weekend, but I said I'd a previous engagement that I couldn't break. He was not amused. Actually, I'm running the tombola at the Autumn Fair today, though I didn't tell him that.’
‘Roy, your mother has ears like a bat. If you don't tell her, someone else will.’
‘You won't tell her, will you?’
‘No, I won't. But yesterday afternoon, someone - possibly the man Marco who works for Sir Arthur …’
She told him what had happened to her conservatory, but didn't mention Mr Talbot.
Roy groaned. ‘It's got all the hallmarks, hasn't it? If he threatens my mother …’
‘She's a feisty old lady but she's not made of cast iron. Roy, you've got to warn her.’
Heavy breathing. A muttered, ‘I suppose so. I did go in to see her but just couldn't admit what an idiot I've been. Strangely enough, some more work has just come in through a chap I know at the golf club.’
‘He's not a friend of Sir Arthur's, by any chance?’
‘No, no. His company's bought a very basic sixties office block on the Uxbridge Road, and they want to put up some classy flats instead. Given the need for housing, and the drop in usefulness of old office blocks, the planning permission should be a doddle. Never fear, I'll be looking at all the small print this time. I suppose I'll see you at church this morning? Perhaps we can have that meal together this evening?’
He rang off.
Kate had been making them both a cup of coffee, and now shoved some in Ellie's direction. ‘Roy's an optimist, if he thinks he can brush Sir Arthur off like that.’
‘My sentiments precisely,’ said Ellie, ladling in some sugar. She glanced at the clock. She ought to be on he
r way to church now. Jean would be cross if Ellie were late … again. ‘One more phone call. This time I'm really going to poke Sir Arthur in the eye.’
Luckily, Sir Arthur was in the phone book.
‘Hello, is that Felicity? This is Ellie Quicke. We met briefly the other evening, you remember? I haven't been able to get the thought of your poor dog out of my mind. I only have a cat, but if anything were to happen to him … oh, please don't cry … it's only natural for you to be upset … but I was just wondering, if your husband is away this weekend and you haven't anything on today, I've got to help out at a fair in the church hall, and there's going to be a Royal Society for the Protection of Birds stand, and the Cats Protection League will also be there, and we're desperate for help and I was just thinking that it might take your mind off things, even though it's birds and cats and not dogs … you wouldn't mind? Nothing else to do? Oh, that's just great. It's St Thomas', you know it? At the end of the Avenue. I'll be going over there in a minute. I'm on teas and coffees, but I'm sure we can find time to sit down and have a chat.’
Ellie put the phone down, pulling a face at Kate, who was killing herself with laughter. ‘Oh, I know I sounded like a gibbering monkey on a stick. A caricature of a Little Woman whose mind never rises above gossip and the price of cauliflowers. But it worked. She's going to meet me there in an hour.’
‘Sir Arthur will kill you.’
‘Will she tell him? Especially if I bring up the subject of the bimbos he's supposed to have.’
‘Be careful, Ellie. That's all. And now, I'd better find out if Armand can look after Catriona for a bit longer while I get on to Gwyn and …’ She looked stricken. ‘For a moment there I'd forgotten Catriona. How could I?’
Ellie patted her hand. ‘My dear. I know. But needs must. Or words to that effect. And as you said it to me, I'll say it to you … be careful!’
On her way out, Ellie checked the contents of her fridge. There wasn't much there for the weekend. There wasn't even much in the freezer. She really did need to stock up again. But if Roy took her out this evening, and she ran over to the new minisupermarket in the Avenue first thing in the morning, she could manage. She didn't really approve of Sunday shopping, but sometimes it came in useful.
She collected her shopping basket from under the stairs, pushed in an apron and some clean tea towels. The hall was let out all the week and however many tea towels were left in the kitchen, there were never enough clean ones by the weekend. Rubber gloves, yes. Purse, keys, mobile phone. Was it going to rain? Jacket, umbrella.
Lock and bolt the front door. Go out the back way down the garden path. Kate and Armand had a key to the back door.
There was a shuffle of dried leaves in the alleyway, floating down from the trees around the church. Ellie tried to relax. Tried to forget all about Sir Arthur, and feuding magnates and nasty people who made silent phone calls in the dark. Think of Marco as if he were a cockroach, to be dealt with and disposed of.
Sir Arthur, of course, was more like a hyena. Or a charging rhinoceros.
She'd take a bet on it that he'd married Felicity partly to get himself an unpaid housekeeper and cook, but mostly to spite his old enemy. He didn't treat her well. He'd broken her spirit; that is, if she'd had any in the first place. She had to pay for her mother's stay in a home out of her own allowance, and it didn't look as though this left anything over for hairdressers and good clothes. It seemed he didn't take her out into society, didn't need her at weekends in the country … did he have a bimbo there? Aunt Drusilla had referred to bimbos in the plural. If she were right, then perhaps he had a country bimbo and a town bimbo.
Either way, he'd taught Felicity her place, which was, presumably, in the kitchen. No children, and now no dog to love. He encouraged Marco to treat her as if she were a skivvy.
Felicity must be feeling desperate, but what could she do about it? Where would she go? She'd been taught to distrust her father, and her mother was in a home. She'd no money, no skills apart from homemaking, and apparently no friends.
It had been clever of Chris Talbot to suggest Ellie befriended his daughter. In his own way, he was just as manipulative as Sir Arthur. Did Chris Talbot really care for Felicity, or was he just using her as a pawn, as her husband did? Ellie had a fanciful thought that Sir Arthur had tried to murder his rival, by marrying his daughter. Oh well …
There was a queue forming outside the church hall already, though the doors wouldn't be officially opened for another five minutes. Ellie pushed her way in, and nodded to Archie, who was on the door, ready to take entrance fees. Fifty pence for adults, children free.
The Autumn Fair was a mix of church-operated stalls and a table sale for crafts, plus a few charitable organizations who could pick up money and membership at such times. The main hall was crowded with stalls, and the small room off the kitchen was also in use.
The weather was not brilliant, but the side door into the vicarage garden was open and there were a few stalls and some children's play equipment set up outside. If it didn't rain, that play area would be a godsend. If she had to look after little Frank this afternoon, then he could play outside. If she were able to take time out to look after him.
The organist was setting up a barbecue in the garden with his wife, who was dear Rose's only daughter, and a difficult girl to get along with. Though efficient.
The majestic Mrs Dawes was presiding over a table full of flower arrangements, and waved to Ellie. ‘Good timing, dear. I've got an old friend to help out on the bric-a-brac stall, but if you could manage an hour here …?’
‘I'll see what I can do, but Jean wants me in the kitchen.’
Mrs Dawes shook her head in sympathy, making her long earrings jangle. Everyone knew what a slave-driver Jean could be.
Ellie hurried into the kitchen, where Jean was already scolding away. Maggie, a large, comfortable-looking woman who'd recently joined the choir, was taking not a blind bit of notice of Jean. Nice woman, Maggie. Ellie and she exchanged nods and smiles, while Jean switched her tirade to Ellie for being late. Which she was not. Or almost not.
‘… and we're short-handed as it is. I was relying on your friend Rose to help us, but she's cried off. Says she's too tied up with looking after that old skinflint she works for, begging your pardon, Ellie; I know she's your aunt-’
‘Husband's aunt,’ said Ellie, automatically.
‘-but everyone knows she could buy and sell this place a dozen times over, and what she needs Rose for as well, I really don't know.’
‘The doors are open and they're off!’ cried Tum-Tum, appearing to snatch a slice of cake. ‘Jean, I'm on the video and DVD stall till lunchtime. Needing sustenance every hour. One large cuppa, one even larger slice of cake. Can do?’
‘For you, vicar. Anything!’ The sharp lines of Jean's face relaxed into what she imagined was a smile. It made Ellie shudder, but Tum-Tum - brave man - never blenched.
Maggie and Ellie flicked glances at one another, and got down to spreading tablecloths on the half dozen tables in the side room where people could sit and eat. It was going to be a busy day for all concerned, and hopefully make a few hundred for the church funds. Especially if the plan to develop the vicarage site had fallen through.
Sir Arthur had been almost too busy to take the phone call from his wife. He didn't usually allow himself to dwell on thoughts of her when he was in the country, but this was different. The girl had her uses, after all.
He listened, and even encouraged her.
‘Yes, you do that. Find out what you can and keep me informed. Yes, I know I said I'd be in a meeting all day, but this is important. Well done, Felicity.’
The first of the hungry and thirsty customers had begun to trickle through, demanding coffee, tea, soft drinks, cakes, crisps … something on a stick for little Danny, and haven't you got any straws, because my daughter's just lost her front teeth …?
To give credit where it was due, Jean worked as hard as Maggie and Ellie, but they
never seemed quite able to catch up with the queue of people wanting to be fed and watered. The new kitchen was wonderful, of course, but the urn was temperamental, and before long Jean was saying they'd have to dig out the old one, even if it did leak and had to be stood on a tray to catch the drips.
‘Well, look who's here!’ Roy, reaching the head of the queue with a fair-haired girl in tow. ‘Ellie, she's been looking for you everywhere, but I said you were likely to be in the thick of it. Two coffees, one black, one white, and a couple of doughnuts.’ Turning to the girl, ‘You'd like a doughnut, wouldn't you? You look as if you could do with feeding up.’
‘Oh, Mrs Quicke,’ said the girl. ‘What a crush! I was just on the point of going home when Roy rescued me.’
‘Felicity, my dear,’ said Ellie, pouring out coffees and slipping doughnuts on to two plates. ‘As you can see, I'm-’
Jean broke in, ‘Those tables need clearing, Ellie.’
‘-a bit pushed at the moment.’
Roy pushed a couple of pound coins into Maggie's hands. ‘Keep the change. Come on, Felicity, I'm on my break now, so I'll grab a couple of chairs, and we can take ten minutes to get reacquainted. This way.’
He wafted her away. Ellie told her jaw to resume its normal position. Felicity was still dressed all in black, yes; but she'd taken the trouble to wash her hair, which was blonde rather than mousy. She was wearing a bra today - not that she'd much to worry about in that direction, being so slim. Far from being a downcast little bunny, she was actually smiling up at Roy, and even as Ellie watched, Felicity reached up to pull her fair hair free of the elastic band which had tied it back.
‘That one knows a good thing when she sees it,’ said Maggie, swabbing down the surfaces. ‘Where did he dig her out from?’
‘She's a client's wife,’ said Ellie, wondering if she'd completely misread Felicity. The girl didn't look particularly pale or uninteresting today. She had a fine creamy skin and her hair wasn't a bad colour, though it could perhaps do with some highlights and a more fashionable cut.
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