by Hanna Allen
‘Yes?’ She waited, her eyes moving over my face.
I found my courage. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Fine, but shall we do it over lunch? Come through, the twins are dying to see you.’
I followed her into the living room, my courage evaporating.
The room was large with a high ceiling buried under ornate plastering. Both sides of the dado rail were papered in red and green floral damask, the wallpaper stained and torn in places. Fading curtains, too heavy for the sagging brass rods, bordered the sash windows which were kept closed, even in summer. Liz had inherited the heavy dark furniture from the previous owners. Even the sofa was ancient, with its Queen Anne legs and striped silk upholstery. There was no sign a fire was ever lit. Dried flowers, dust powdering the leaves, were crammed into a Chinese vase in the fireplace. But the room was warm. Liz had installed central heating.
It was weeks since I’d seen the twins. They were dressed identically in kilted skirts and bright red sweaters, with differently coloured grips in their hair. They were playing one of their let’s-make-as-much-mess-as-we-can games. They’d draped a blanket over a clotheshorse and were pretending it was a house, stuffing it full of objects from the room.
‘So, school’s over for Christmas?’ I said, trying to inject a cheerful note into my voice.
Annie glanced up, then stared open-mouthed. ‘You’ve cut your hair.’
I wondered what was coming next, Annie was not a child who minced her words.
‘It makes you look like a boy,’ she said.
‘That’s rude, Annie,’ said Liz.
‘It’s because you’ve got nits. Alastair in my class has got nits and his hair has been cut just like yours, only shorter.’
Another time, I’d have joined in the joke, but I was preoccupied with thinking of how best to broach the subject of Mike.
‘Annie, that’s enough,’ Liz said firmly.
Annie was famed for her non sequiturs. She eyed me solemnly. ‘Your clothes look funny. I bet your bra doesn’t match your knickers,’ she added knowingly. ‘Mummy’s always does.’
Liz shook her head in mock exasperation. ‘Could you watch them for a minute, Mags? I won’t be too long.’ She took a ten-pound note from her purse. ‘Mags is in charge while I go to the shops. Can I trust the two of you to behave?’
Lucy gazed at her blissfully, nodding. Annie said, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ in a bored tone and didn’t look up.
I smiled at Liz. ‘We’ll be fine.’
She threw the twins a warning look and left the room. A second later, I heard the front door close.
I bent to stroke Lucy’s hair. ‘How did it go at the doctor’s?’ I said, pleased I’d remembered this small but important detail.
She raised her hand proudly. ‘The nurse put a bandage on my finger.’
‘That’s nice, sweetie,’ I said mechanically.
I sank onto the sofa, wishing I’d rehearsed what I would say to Liz. There were two ways she could react. She’d agree I had a point, and it would be worth going to see Hallengren. Or she’d be in denial, call me a lunatic, and demand to see proof. Or she’d think I was fabricating some nonsense to keep her and Mike apart. Three ways.
‘We’ve been practising ballet for the Nativity Play,’ Annie was saying. ‘We’re angels and we wear white dresses with wings and we do a dance.’
‘And we have sparkly stuff in our hair,’ said Lucy.
‘Do you want to see me do the dance?’ said Annie, nudging her sister aside. She scrambled to her feet and did a little pirouette. But she overbalanced and knocked into a table. She lost her footing and fell, her heavy curls tumbling about her cheeks.
I turned away to hide a smile. ‘That’s wonderful, Annie.’
She struggled to her feet and brushed down her skirt, a cross expression on her pink face.
‘Does Mike come here often?’ I said, watching them play.
‘He used to come a lot,’ said Annie. ‘He was always bringing Mummy flowers, big yellow ones.’
‘Yes, lilies are Mummy’s favourites.’ I studied her face. ‘But he doesn’t come so much now?’
‘Mummy said he’s too busy working.’
I hesitated. ‘Do you like him, Annie?’
She turned away, shaking her head slowly.
I was surprised. I thought Mike would be well established in their affections by now. I was about to quiz her further, when I felt a tug at my arm. Lucy had clambered onto the sofa.
‘There’s something I have to tell you, Maggie,’ she said earnestly. ‘We’ve got a computer at school and we’re using the Wide World Web.’
‘Wow, it sounds marvellous,’ I said, running a finger down her cheek.
She slipped her little hand into mine and gazed at me with a hopeful expression. ‘Will you play shop with us?’
‘Of course I will, pet. What do I have to do?’
Annie took control, as always. ‘We need cash.’
Liz’s handbag was on the chair. Annie opened it, and started to throw the contents out onto the floor.
‘Annie, I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I said quickly.
She brandished Liz’s purse in triumph. ‘Mummy lets us use her money provided we put it back,’ she said with authority.
Before I could stop her, she tipped the purse upside down, and shook it, showering the floor with money. After a final violent jerk, she threw it over her shoulder. She and Lucy picked up the coins and busied themselves making neat piles of pennies. I bent to gather the scattered items.
I was zipping the bag shut when something under the chair caught my eye. It was a silver cigarette case.
I’d never seen Liz use a case; like me, she took her cigarettes straight from the pack. I examined it, running my finger over the monogram: EK. The curling letters spiralled outwards, looping over the edges onto the other side. I pulled at the clasp, wondering idly who EK was. The case sprang open. I’d half hoped to find cigarettes, but it was empty except for a few strands of tobacco. The workmanship was exquisite: tortoiseshell lining and two yellow silk bands, one on either side. I wondered why Liz kept it in her bag but didn’t use it.
I was about to snap it shut when I noticed that the tortoiseshell was loose on one side. I prodded it back, pushing it under the rim, but it came away from the case. I glanced guiltily at the children; their attention was on the coins. I tried to ease the tortoiseshell into place, but something was wedged behind it. I picked the lining off carefully. A piece of newspaper was jammed in so firmly it could have been glued to the silver.
I peeled it away and smoothed it open. The paper, yellow with age, had been folded so many times it was difficult to read.
It was a cutting from a London newspaper. There was a single article. The title jumped out at me from the page.
Leading civil servant commits suicide in prison
Richard Kellett’s body was found hanging by his belt in his cell yesterday morning. The prison governor, Mr John Hickock, will deliver a full statement later today, but told our reporter last night that Kellett had been assessed as not being at risk to himself. His belt and shoelaces had therefore not been removed. Police have ruled out foul play.
Kellett had just begun a life sentence after having been convicted of treason in one of London’s most sensational court cases for decades. Kellett, a leading civil servant in the Ministry of Defence, had been found guilty of selling information to several international terrorist groups. In his summing up, after a trial lasting nearly six months, the judge, Mr Justice Cleveley, told the jury that the crime of which Kellett stood accused was treason and, until recently, would have carried the death penalty. The jury had taken less than thirty minutes to find Kellett guilty. Sentencing him to life imprisonment, Mr Justice Cleveley said that the sentence reflected the gravity of the crime and recommended that Kellett serve no less than thirty
The star prosecution witness was Professor Henry Auchinleck, a historian at Cambridge Unive
rsity. Professor Auchinleck, a researcher of international repute, had been commissioned by the government to help them trace the leak in the MoD. After months of painstaking work, he had finally uncovered the identity of the civil servant who had been leaking secrets to terrorist organisations. When initially questioned by police, Kellett had vehemently denied any involvement in the affair. But, after hearing the evidence given by Professor Auchinleck and, under intense cross-examination in the witness stand, Kellett had broken down and changed his plea to one of guilty. He had acted alone, he said, and purely out of greed.
Notable by her complete absence from the trial and the public eye in general, was Kellett’s wife, Elizabeth. A spokesman for the family confirmed that she had been eight months pregnant when Kellett was convicted, and had been too unwell to attend the trial. No-one was available for comment at the family home yesterday.
I glanced at the date. The article was nearly six years old. Details of the case started to come back to me. I remembered the name Kellett as being unusual. Yet what had so interested Liz that she’d kept this cutting?
Below the text were two colour photographs, badly faded. One was of Harry, looking more youthful than when I’d known him. The other, grainier, was captioned: Richard and Elizabeth Kellett on their wedding day. A couple was standing smiling for the camera, their arms around each other, the man’s head inclined towards the woman’s. I recognised Richard Kellett’s face from television.
His wife was wearing an ivory-coloured gown, the tight fit accentuating her slimness. Her blonde hair was piled loosely on her head, making her neck look longer than it was. She wore a simple headband of the same pink rosebuds arranged in her bouquet. Around her neck was a double strand of pearls which matched her earrings.
I looked at her face. The paper was worn, and the picture faded, but there was no mistaking it. I stared, feeling the shock of recognition blast through my body. That mole on her cheek. Elizabeth Kellett was Liz Hallam.
I sank onto the sofa, my mind reeling. So Richard Kellett had been Liz’s husband. No wonder she never talked about him. I glanced again at the date and did the calculation. The twins had been born after Kellett’s death, so would know nothing of their father. I scanned the living room, only then seeing what had escaped me before: the absence of photos of Liz’s husband. There were several of Liz, and of the twins at different ages, but none of Kellett.
There was something else. Harry had been involved. He’d done the research that had brought Kellett down, even presented it in court. In all their years of friendship, had Harry known that Liz was Kellett’s wife? It seemed unlikely – Liz had kept out of the spotlight. But she would have known who Harry was; she’d have followed the trial at home. So why, then, had she been such a good friend to him?
Engrossed in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the door.
‘So, Mags, you’ve discovered my little secret.’
Her voice gave me such a shock that I jumped to my feet.
I gazed at the newspaper cutting. And then it was blindingly obvious.
Chapter 30
Liz was at the door, a packet of cigarettes in her hand. We stared at one another in silence.
Her expression changed, and she turned to the children. ‘You two, up to your room and play,’ she said sharply.
‘Do we have to?’ said Annie. She was sorting the silver coins and didn’t look up.
‘Stop whining. You can watch television.’
‘Okay, Mummy, but we have to finish this game first.’
‘Now.’
The harshness in her voice had the desired effect. Annie kicked the piles of coins over, and she and Lucy marched sulkily out of the room. I heard their footsteps on the stairs, and then a door banged somewhere above my head.
Without taking her eyes off me, Liz reached behind her and pushed the door shut. She gestured to the sofa. ‘Sit down, Mags,’ she said quietly.
I remained standing, my mind in a turmoil.
‘Well, now that you know, what are you going to do?’ she said watching me, her gaze steady.
I tried to keep my hands from trembling. ‘I don’t know anything, Liz.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’ve got a brain the size of a planet.’
I looked deep into her eyes. Then I dropped the cutting and sprinted for the door.
She leapt forward and caught my neck in an arm grip. I beat at her legs, my hands balled into fists, but she didn’t budge. She placed the heels of her hands below my ears and pressed hard. My blows grew weaker, lights popped in my head, then rushing blackness overtook me.
When I opened my eyes, I was on the sofa, the sleeve of my jumper rolled up. Liz was in the armchair, an expression of calm on her face. A syringe lay on the table beside her.
‘Please don’t be alarmed, Mags. I’ve injected you with something that causes muscle relaxation. It’s not at all life-threatening, but I wouldn’t try moving, if I were you.’
I tried to sit up but my body felt pressed by a great weight. What in God’s name had she pumped into me? I sank into the cushions.
‘I use tiny amounts for sprains and muscle injury.’ She motioned to the cocktail cabinet. ‘All my goodies are kept in a locked drawer.’
I said nothing. I had to concentrate on the mechanics of breathing.
She ripped the cellophane off the cigarette packet, then leant forward and took a lighter from the back of her jeans. She lit up, inhaling slowly.
I watched these familiar actions with growing dread. ‘What is this stuff, Liz?’ I gasped. ‘I feel like shit.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Her voice softened. ‘It’ll wear off with no ill effects, I promise you.’
I tried closing my eyes, but that made the queasiness worse.
‘You’re owed an explanation, Mags,’ she went on. ‘And I know you’ll want to hear it from beginning to end.’ Her mouth twisted, as though what she was about to say would be painful. ‘You see, after Dick’s suicide, I simply couldn’t live in London. There were far too many memories, and too many people knew me. I changed back to my maiden name, Hallam, and got the job here at Bayne’s.’
I shifted on the sofa, only half listening. If I could keep her talking, the relaxant would wear off and I might find a way to escape. If only Mike were here, I thought, aware of the irony behind my wish.
She blew smoke through her nostrils. ‘I’ve waited years, you know. Long, long years. You haven’t any idea what it’s been like, the strain of pretending to love him, watching him befriend my children, for God’s sake. But I want to tell it from the start.’ She looked directly at me. ‘How I became a murderer.’
In desperation, I tried to move my legs. She watched my feeble attempts, then rose and locked the door. Terror surged through me, and I sank back, gasping.
‘Why did you kill Harry?’ I said. My tongue felt thick, my voice sounding as though it came from far away.
‘Harry was the only one I intended to kill. Wilson was’ – she picked a tobacco strand from her teeth and examined it – ‘rather unfortunate.’
Wilson. She’d killed Wilson, too. My God . . .
‘I saw Harry on television a few years ago,’ she was saying. ‘After the trial I thought I’d never have to see his face again. Then, surprise surprise, he just appeared out of the blue. He’d moved from Cambridge to Edinburgh. That was what decided me, you see, the two of us here in the same city. It was fate.’ Her face was expressionless. ‘But I really didn’t need much persuading. He’d taken my husband from me.’
‘Liz, your husband killed himself,’ I said, forcing out the words. ‘All Harry did was uncover the truth.’
Her eyes blazed. ‘What would you know about it? You’ve never had a husband, you, with your casual affairs and one-night stands. You’ve never known what it is to be in love, not the kind of love Dick and I had.’ Her face was distorted. ‘That awful ache, after he’d gone. Harry took everything away from me. Worst of all, he robbed my children of their father.’
H
er anger hung in the air like smoke from a pistol. I didn’t dare reply.
She continued more quietly. ‘Once I’d made up my mind, it wasn’t terribly difficult. You know the sort of person he is, always giving lectures, attending book-signings. The first time I spoke to him, I saw immediately he didn’t have a scooby who I was. I’d kept out of the limelight, you see.’ She indicated the cutting. ‘You know, I think that article carried the only photograph of me. Harry can’t have seen it. I’d forgotten I still had that. Where did you find it?’
I nodded at the cigarette case on the floor.
She looked at it for a long time. ‘How careless of me,’ she murmured.
I had to keep her talking. ‘Your parents,’ I said slowly. ‘Didn’t they recognise Harry?’
‘I kept them apart. My parents are too poorly now to travel to Scotland.’
‘Didn’t the twins give the game away?’
‘Oh, children don’t use surnames. My parents knew of a Professor Henry Auchinleck from Cambridge. They didn’t suspect he was the Harry the twins talked about.’ She stabbed out the cigarette and lit another. ‘Things became more complicated when you got the job at Bayne’s. I was sure you’d see through my relationship with Harry. But as time went on, I realised I’d fooled you.’
‘You fooled us all,’ I said with difficulty. ‘Specially Harry.’
Her mouth forced itself into a smile. ‘I thought first about killing him here in Edinburgh, you know. I dreamt up one plan after the other. There are drugs that can bring on a cardiac arrest, for example. I even thought about killing him with my bare hands. My karate would have come in handy there. But all these methods would lead back to me. Questions would be asked and the truth about Dick would come out.’ She pulled on the cigarette. ‘Then the perfect opportunity came up. Harry suggested a holiday.’
I closed my eyes, remembering that autumn afternoon in her garden.
‘It really couldn’t have been better,’ she said. ‘You see, I could kill Harry abroad. If I took care to make it look like an accident, no-one would dig up the past.’
That conversation Harry and I had had about the holiday. We’d been so worried Liz would back out. Now I understood why she’d accepted so readily.
