False Impression

by Veronica Heley

  Bea was amused. How many years was it since the college had been trying to get a link with her agency? She had resisted because she hadn’t been able to trust their manager. Now, at last, she would be able to do so. Clever Leon.

  Anna was happy about it, too. ‘Yes, I’d like a proper arrangement with the agency. We must talk about it, soon. Oh, he’s here, wanting a word.’

  Crackle. Pop. Leon’s voice. ‘So, Bea. May I come home now?’

  Home? He thought of her house as home?

  She blinked. What sort of home had he ever had? He’d grown up in the charge of hired help. His mother had hardly ever been around. He’d gone out into the great wide world as soon as he could and had won through to some sort of stability with a partner who’d upped and died on him last year. He’d owned a millionaire’s dream of a house and sold it. He had a pied-à-terre in the Barbican, which he said was bleak and cold. And lonely? He’d been thrown out of his rooms at the big house.

  Of course, he could go to a hotel, but he was saying that he needed the comforts of home. She hesitated.

  ‘Or,’ he said, in a flat voice, ‘we could meet somewhere in town. At the Ritz, perhaps? I hear their bedlinen is the finest in the land.’

  That put her back on track. ‘Forget it,’ she said, briskly. ‘I can’t leave because neither Dilys nor Orlando have returned, and I don’t think either of them have a key.’

  ‘I do,’ he said, and broke the connection.

  Half laughing and half angry, Bea put the receiver down. ‘Now what have I done!’

  Half past eleven

  Dilys rang the bell. Bea turned off the alarm to let her in, and the girl drifted past her into the hall, saying, ‘Sorry, I forgot my key. Are you all right?’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but disappeared up the stairs before Bea could question her.

  There was colour in Dilys’s cheeks, and her eyes were bright, so Bea deduced that the evening had gone well.

  Orlando followed shortly after, also bright of cheek and eye but nowhere near as happy. ‘Don’t talk to me about Charles!’ he said, and stormed off up the stairs before Bea could say anything.

  Bea went into the kitchen to feed Winston for the last time that day and to make herself a cup of cocoa.

  A few minutes later Leon’s key turned in the lock. He let himself in, saying, ‘The alarm isn’t on. Shall I do it for you? You’d better give me the number.’

  She sang it out to him, and he dealt with it for her. He was good with figures, wasn’t he? He deposited his coat and travel bag in the hall, saying, ‘Whatever you’re making, is there one for me, too?’

  He was wearing another charcoal grey business suit. He went into the living room, taking off his golden silk tie and loosening his collar. He looked stunning, but tired.

  She took him a mug of cocoa and sat beside him on the settee. She tried to work it out. He’d had a hard day, what with spending time with the police and all. He’d had an early supper with her, gone somewhere to get changed, driven out to the college, overseen the transfer of authority and driven back. Or had Lucas driven him? Yes, probably.

  She said, ‘Congratulations. You’ve saved the college, provided for Dilys’s future, and avoided war with your brother.’

  ‘All in a day’s work, ma’am.’

  ‘“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.” Will you regret what it cost you to avert the war?’

  He sipped cocoa, set the mug aside, and lay down with his head on her lap. ‘My mother used to say, “Don’t upset your brother, there’s a good boy.”’ He lifted her hand and placed it on his forehead, closing his eyes. ‘Say it, Bea. Say it.’

  She stroked his forehead. ‘Yes, you have been a good boy. A very good boy.’

  She hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until that minute. Muscle by muscle, he relaxed. His breathing slowed. She continued to stroke his forehead.

  He said, ‘I may have won this battle, but what of the next, and the one after that?’

  ‘You’ll manage.’

  ‘You know why I didn’t tell you what I was doing?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You thought that if I knew, I’d be worried about Max getting involved. But he’s not due back in London till Friday. You can leave me to deal with him. If you haven’t already done so.’

  ‘You know me so well.’ He smiled to himself at some thought he was not prepared to share with her.

  ‘You’ve given him something to keep him quiet?’

  ‘Mm. I don’t think I’ve got the strength to climb the stairs. May I sleep here?’

  ‘I’ll fetch a duvet and some pillows.’

  But she didn’t move yet. She’d heard that women needed to be mother, wife and child to their man, at different times. She could do the mother bit all right. The wife bit? Maybe, but not yet. The child …? Women usually stopped feeling like children after their parents died, but men didn’t. Or, some didn’t. Leon still had a child inside him, wanting his mother, trying to please her, even after all these years.

  She said, ‘You’re a very good boy,’ and kissed his forehead … only to find he’d fallen asleep.

  And how was she to get out from under him, pray? She was not, repeat not, going to spend the night sitting upright on her settee. As soon as he was deeply asleep, she’d move.

  EIGHT

  Thursday morning

  Bea leaned on the banisters as she slowly made her way downstairs. She’d woken at gone midnight, still on the settee, shivering. Leon had been deeply asleep and hadn’t moved even when she wriggled out from under him. She’d thrown a rug over him and departed for her own bed, without attempting to read her Bible or say her prayers.

  She hadn’t attempted it this morning, either.

  In the old days Maggie had brought her a cup of tea in the mornings. Dilys didn’t seem to have thought of it. Bea missed Maggie, a lot. They kept in touch by phone, but it wasn’t the same as being able to tell one another the details of the day …

  The house seemed very quiet. Bea picked the newspapers up off the mat and listened, but couldn’t hear anyone else moving about. The first thing Maggie used to do in the mornings was to turn on both the radio and the television. Maggie liked to surround herself with sound. Dilys was quiet as a mouse.

  Coffee. Essential. Breakfast. Something for a slight headache. She felt eighty in the shade that morning. Nice, bright morning. Birds chirruping. Winston the cat yowling. Ugh!

  And here came Dilys, chirpy as a sparrow. Singing to herself.

  Singing!?

  ‘Good morning, good morning,’ sang Dilys, all smiles. ‘What do you fancy for breakfast this morning? Shall I pop out for some fresh rolls or something? It would be no trouble, I assure you. I’m finding my way around like nobody’s business now.’

  Bea shuddered. ‘Sit down, Dilys. We need to talk.’

  The girl looked at her watch. ‘Yes, of course.’ She didn’t sit but clattered plates and mugs on to the table. ‘Can you lend me a couple of quid? The battery on my watch has run down, and Keith says he’ll show me where I can get another fitted at lunchtime, but I’m a bit short of the readies so—’

  Bea tried not to shriek. ‘Dilys, please. Sit down. I have something important to tell you. Your Uncle Leon will explain it all to you later, but you need to know—’

  ‘Is he here? Did he stay the night? Daddy said he was sweet on you, but that you had more sense than to get married again at your time of life.’

  Bea took the girl by the arm and steered her to a seat. ‘Please. Sit. Listen carefully to what I have to say because it’s going to affect everything you do in future. Your uncle—’

  ‘Did I hear my name mentioned?’ Leon appeared in the doorway, still dressed in his business gear, looking rumpled. ‘’Morning, Dilys: we need to talk. Bea, may I use one of your bathrooms?’

  Dilys squeaked. ‘Oh, what a fright you gave me! Do you want some cereal for breakfast?’

  Leon rolled his eyes. Bea wondered how long it would be before he regretted g
iving away so much of his capital to ease this silly little girl’s path in life.

  Bea said, ‘Leon, you may use the guest room’s en suite, on the first floor. You want a full breakfast, I assume?’

  He nodded and went off up the stairs with his travelling bag. Bea made a cafetière of coffee, trying to work out where Leon was keeping his clothes at the moment and who was doing his laundry. Was he still using Lucas’s house as his base and getting Lucas’s wife to look after his clothes? Well, that was his affair and nothing whatever to do with her. She said, ‘Dilys, your uncle has—’

  Orlando appeared, not looking rumpled. He was dressed in his freshly laundered bright-pink shirt, jeans and boots, and carrying a denim jacket. Had Dilys got up early to attend to his clothes?

  Orlando said, ‘Oh, thanks. A quick cup of coffee is just what I need. The office want me to check out some barn or other near the airport. I know there’s a tithe barn somewhere out there, but can’t remember exactly where it is.’

  ‘Good morning, Orlando.’ Dilys dimpled at him, pouring coffee into mugs. ‘So you’ve still got a job? I’m so glad.’

  ‘No thanks to Charles. He’s throwing me out of the flat.’

  ‘Well, you can always stay here,’ said Dilys, handing him a mug of coffee. ‘There. Black and strong, just as you like it. No sugar for you. Two for me.’

  Bea clenched her teeth and counted to ten. Well, to five, actually. She said, ‘Orlando, you are welcome to stay here one more night, but I do think you should make your own arrangements for the future.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Orlando,’ said Dilys, helping herself to cereal. ‘My Uncle Leon’s moved in as well, but that still leaves the two bedrooms upstairs.’

  Orlando ignored Bea to speak direct to Dilys. ‘Well, I suppose I could fetch all my kit from Charles’s place and bring it here this evening. Unless you could go and fetch it for me?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Dilys. ‘Otherwise engaged. Keith’s meeting me for lunch, and then—’

  Bea broke in. ‘Have you got Keith’s phone number on you, Dilys? Would you ring him, now, this minute? I need him to check if we’ve got a bug on my landline up here in the kitchen. I’d also like him to see if there’s a camera trained on our front door to monitor who’s coming and going. Urgent.’

  The two children looked at her, horrified. They’d managed to escape reality for a little while. And she’d most unkindly brought them back down to earth.

  Dilys put her spoon down, slowly. ‘Keith’s got another job on this morning, but … yes, I’m sure he’ll come.’ The sparkle had gone out of her.

  Orlando bleated, ‘But the police arrested Margrete’s husband.’

  ‘I don’t think this bugging has anything to do with the police,’ said Bea. She could hear the toilet flush upstairs. That would be Leon. She could also hear movement down below as the girls arrived at the agency for the day’s work. She was running late. Leon would be down for his breakfast soon. ‘I’m going to make scrambled eggs for breakfast. Any takers?’

  Dilys shook her head. She fished her phone out of her pocket and went off with it. So Keith had given her his number already?

  Bea tried to gentle her voice. ‘Well, Orlando: how did you get on when you rang your elderly cousin? Don’t you want time off to meet her, see to the arrangements?’

  An empty look. ‘She doesn’t need me. She said so, in so many words. She said my father always said I’d be the death of him. She says he wouldn’t have wanted me to have anything to do with his funeral … Not that we can have the body for a while yet.’ He swallowed. ‘I told her I had every intention of doing the right thing by him and by her, but it didn’t go down well. There’s family for you! Or not, in this case.’

  He’d been disinherited by his father and slagged off by his cousin. Oh, the pain of it. Orlando wasn’t coping as well as Leon had … but Leon had been shown the door at a younger age and was made of stronger material.

  Orlando shook his curls. Brightly smiling, he said, ‘The coffee was fine. I really must get going. I’ll bring my things round later, if that’s all right with you.’ He didn’t wait for a reply but slid out of the kitchen as the phone rang.

  Bea picked it up, warily.

  ‘Another wild goose chase.’ The inspector. Still in a bad temper?

  ‘Good morning to you, too,’ said Bea. ‘You found the car, then?’ The coffee in the pot had all been drunk, and Leon would soon be down, needing sustenance. Multitasking, she switched the kettle on. ‘Where did it turn up?’

  ‘Burned out, in a back street on a housing estate. If you parked a strange car there, it would be stripped and burned out within the day.’

  Bea emptied out the coffee grounds from the cafetière and poured in more ground coffee without bothering to measure it. ‘Was Adamsson in it at the time?’

  The inspector made a noise like a boiling kettle. Or perhaps it was the kettle, boiling. She filled the cafetière to the top.

  ‘No, Adamsson was not in it. There was no body in it.’

  ‘In the boot, perhaps?’

  ‘No. Empty.’

  ‘Then he’s still missing?’

  ‘Tcha! Missing? No, he’s on holiday.’

  ‘Who says so?’ She pressed down on the plunger.

  ‘His office. Apparently, his car had been stolen the morning he was due to go off on holiday to France. He hadn’t got time to report it to the police and asked them to do it – which they forgot to do. Adamsson told them he was going to rent a car and be on his way. I suppose it was taken by joyriders. They would have used it for a couple of days and then dumped it.’

  ‘At the swimming pool? You’re joking! Are we sure that Mr Adamsson junior is abroad? Can his father contact him?’

  ‘I sincerely hope you’re not asking me to spend any more time on this.’ Click. He’d broken the connection.

  Leon arrived to put his arm around her and kiss her cheek. ‘Why does your coffee smell better than anyone else’s?’ He was wearing a different grey business suit and a fresh-from-the-packet shirt, this time with a light-blue satin tie. He looked well-barbered and ready for anything the world might throw at him. Captain of Industry, and the rest. Tra la.

  She ladled muesli into a bowl, added milk and set some bread to toast. ‘Adamsson’s car has turned up, burned out. No corpse inside. His office says he reported to them that his car had been stolen, and that he intended to tour France in a rented car. My policeman refuses to help look for him. Orlando’s gone to work; Charles is throwing him out of his flat. Dilys and Keith have become an item. Oh, Keith is our computer techie, who—’

  He picked up the newspaper. ‘Tell me all that again in ten minutes’ time. I may look awake, but I’m not. Ah, coffee …!’ He reached for a mug.

  ‘Scrambled eggs?’

  No reply. He’d turned to the Business section of The Times.

  She dumped the bowl of muesli in front of him.

  One hand came out to connect with the spoon, scoop up a mouthful of cereal and disappear behind the paper.

  She said, ‘This is like a cartoon. Man too busy with world affairs to communicate. Woman hovers, waiting to be noticed. I should have ordered a copy of Hello! magazine to entertain myself with.’

  ‘Mmh? Have you got the Financial Times?’ He held out his hand for it.

  She did not have the Financial Times delivered. Did he really expect her to provide it, just like that? Or to run out to the shops to buy him one?

  She considered hitting him over the head with a frying pan. She considered giving him the money and telling him to buy one for himself. She thought of telling him that he snored, which would be a knockout blow for any would-be lover. But, he didn’t, much. His soft purr was acceptable.

  She wondered if this were not another test. Last night she’d played mother to the little boy hidden way inside him. She could go on treating him like a little boy. But, no, that would not be a good basis for a long-term relationship.

  She said, ‘Your brothe
r told Dilys I was far too sensible to take you on board. How right he was.’

  The newspaper was slowly lowered. Narrowed eyes surveyed her.

  She said, brightly, ‘I am not your mother, your housekeeper, your mistress or your wife.’

  He raised the paper again. Pushed the empty cereal bowl aside.

  She collected the toast and found the butter. Started to beat up some eggs. ‘Scrambled eggs coming up.’

  From behind the paper: ‘With smoked salmon?’

  ‘Not unless you’ve ordered a delivery of it.’ She swished the eggs into a pan, seasoned and stirred. ‘Did you take in what I said earlier about Adamsson and Dilys?’

  The newspaper was carefully folded inside out and laid aside. ‘I have a video conference meeting at my new office at ten.’

  ‘You’d better get a move on, then.’ She placed a plate of scrambled eggs on toast before him. ‘Would you like me to cut the toast up into soldiers for you?’

  She wasn’t sure if he’d be offended, or laugh. He didn’t seem sure, himself. Then, he grinned. ‘We’ve turned into Beatrice and Benedict. Two people attracted to one another, but set in their own ways.’

  ‘It’s probably too late for either of us to change.’ She poured him a second mug of coffee. ‘Did you hear what I said about Adamsson’s car?’

  A nod. He was eating now. Fast. A glance at his wristwatch. ‘Where’s Dilys?’

  Now that was indeed a good question. She’d gone out of the room to ring Keith … ages ago. ‘Dunno. Any instructions for today?’

  ‘If your policeman refuses to look for Adamsson, I’ll have to see if I can trace him myself. Here.’ He produced a simple cellphone. ‘You might need this to contact me direct at any time. You’ll set up a meeting with Anna to discuss a closer cooperation with the training college?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve agreed that already. Is your brother going to have a tantrum when he finds out what you’ve done?’

  ‘Evans the Welsh Dragon was lurking there last night, tight-lipped, in the background. We should get the fallout any minute. I’ve got meetings all day. I’ll try to find out what arrangements have been made for keeping in touch with Adamsson. Take you out this evening?’