by Ann Purser
As she followed Theo up the wide stairs, a little unsteadily here and there, Deirdre repeated her question. “When can we go, Theo?” she said as they turned towards his bedroom.
He began to take off her jacket, and kiss her fondly, gently following a downward path. “You’ve always been a goer, my darling,” he said in muffled tones. “None better.”
“No, silly,” she said, guiding him with difficulty towards the bed, “I mean, when can we go to the casino? Tomorrow?”
“Mmm,” he muttered. “Anything you say, my lovely girl.”
Fifty-one
THE LOUNGE AT Springfields was almost empty. It was the hour when residents were encouraged to retire to their rooms, “for a little shut-eye,” as Mrs. Spurling put it. “Then we shall be fresh as daisies to come down for a cup of tea and a spot of socialising,” she would add, privately hoping that eyes went on being shut for long enough to allow her to get on with administration and one or two telephone calls of a private nature.
This afternoon, Ivy and Roy did not go upstairs after lunch but sat in comfortable chairs in their corner of the lounge. They had a token nap, and then ordered tea and spent some time discussing Alwen Jones.
“There’s an awful lot we don’t know about her,” Ivy said, presiding over the teapot. “She hasn’t come downstairs today, and Miss Pinkney said she had breakfast and lunch in her room. I wonder if yesterday was too much for her? She came out with some useful stuff, especially details of her sister Doris, the millionaire casino owner.”
“I don’t think it was too much for her, dearest,” Roy said. “A few more days out with us and she’d be as right as rain. No, it’s being alone with her thoughts that’s doing the damage, I reckon. Oh, and by the way, Deirdre left a message for us,” Roy added, pouring second cups of tea, and saying reassuringly that there was no danger of ginger twins for the pair of them, even when they were married. “She said that she and Theo are going to Ozzy’s Casino tomorrow. Perhaps we should tell them what to look out for?”
“Good idea,” said Ivy. “As we know,” she added primly, “there’s only one thing on their minds when those two get together.”
“Let’s ring Gus and Deirdre to see if they can come here after supper this evening. No chance of the squire coming, too. But we could maybe have a game of cards after we’ve talked about tomorrow at the casino.”
“Another good idea, my dear,” said Ivy, blowing him an awkward kiss. “Shall I make the calls? Better be upstairs in my room. I sometimes think Spurling has got this lounge bugged. I’ve found one in my bedroom and covered it up with sticky tape.”
“Where was it?” Roy asked in alarm.
“On the ceiling, of course. Nasty looking thing. Still, I fixed it.”
“How did you get to it?” Roy said suspiciously. He was beginning to wonder if Ivy was confusing dreams with reality. Nothing new there, he thought. He did it himself sometimes.
“Stood on my bed, naturally,” said Ivy smugly. “You don’t believe me, do you? Well, next time you’re in with me, I’ll show you how I stepped on the little stool that Katya gave us, and then onto the bed. I’ve complained about that hard mattress, but this time it stood me in good stead.”
Roy stared at her. “Ivy,” he said in a measured voice. He would have to put this tactfully. “That’s the smoke alarm you’ve covered up with sticky tape. I really don’t think there are listening bugs in Springfields. . . .”
He was going to say more when he noticed that Ivy’s face had an unusual expression. Then she began to splutter, and the splutter grew to a chuckle and the chuckle grew to a rip-roaring bellow. “Got you there, Roy Goodman!” she burbled. “I know I’m good for my age, but climbing onto a bed?” And then she was off again. Finally she calmed down, and said that she was really touched that Roy could think her capable of such a feat.
“So shall we get back to making those calls, Ivy my love?” he said, and reflected that every day he learnt something new about his beloved.
GUS WAS READING the morning newspaper when the phone rang. He did not immediately recognise Ivy’s voice, as she seemed to be smothering a giggle. Ivy giggling? Pigs might fly, he said to himself. But there she was, asking him to go down to Springfields this evening. Deirdre, but probably not Theo, would be there, and they could discuss strategy for the visit to the casino. As she knew Gus had experience of gambling dens, she was sure his expertise would be vital. Gus was aware that by including him in the meeting, she was trying to make it easier for him to tolerate the idea of pairing Deirdre and Theo, and he felt a glow of affection for the old thing.
“Right-o,” he said. “I’ll be there about seven. Nothing to report from this end, but I am sure the discussion will be useful.” He put down the phone and considered that in view of his failure ever to make any profit out of gambling, his expertise would not necessarily be of much use. But at least he knew the seamier side of that world, which might prove to be a considerable asset.
Deirdre was not quite so cooperative. She took offence at the idea that she and Theo needed instruction on what to look out for at the casino. They were interested in Doris May, weren’t they, and by careful questioning intended to find out more about her operation. She knew most casinos were owned by big companies, but the one in Thornwell was privately owned. And, as they knew, inherited and run very successfully by Doris May Osborne.
“Mind you,” Deirdre said knowledgeably now to Ivy in the interview room at Springfields, where the four had gathered, “with online gambling so widespread and successful, actual casinos might well have taken a knock in numbers playing the games.”
“I suppose cheating the public is more difficult online?” Roy said.
“Something we shall find out,” Deirdre replied confidently.
“And will you find out more about Doris herself?” Ivy said. “There’s bound to be rumour and gossip amongst her staff. From the sound of it, she’s a smooth operator, and probably a con artist into the bargain!”
Roy smiled. It amused him to see his Ivy, a former pillar of conservative respectability, using the jargon expected of an experienced investigator. My goodness, he thought, how all those years in Round Ringford were wasted! With such a sharp brain, she could have ruled the world, and made a much better job of it than the present lot.
Tiddles uncurled herself from Ivy’s lap and jumped down, miaowing at the door.
Gus got up to open it and let her out. Miss Pinkney had, with some difficulty, persuaded Mrs. Spurling to have a cat-flap in the rear cloakroom door that led into the garden, so that Tiddles could come and go. She was still too small to go far, but with great bravery and resourcefulness managed to push her way out of the flap and back in again. This saved Springfields staff the unwelcome job of emptying a litter tray, and the little cat was now fully accepted.
“I expect I shall recognise somebody who I know from the past. I could ask a question or two,” Deirdre said.
“Not sure if that’s such a good idea,” said Ivy. “Wouldn’t it be better if you went incognito?”
Roy laughed delightedly but refused to explain why.
Deirdre was beginning to feel irritated. “Ivy Beasley!” she said. “Do you really think that I, Deirdre Bloxham, widow of one of the best-known men in Thornwell, could go incognito anywhere in town? And that landowner and scion of a long line of local squires, Theo Roussel, would not be recognised immediately? And why would it matter?”
Ivy raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Perhaps you two aren’t the right people to go. Maybe Roy and me, looking for a risky game of bingo, would be more successful?”
“Now, now, Ivy dear,” Roy said. “You know we wouldn’t have a clue how to go on in a casino. Deirdre and Theo will be fine for the job, I’m sure. It seems to me that the most important part of their visit will be to keep their ears and eyes open. And the simple fact that you and I both have hearing problems would rule us out.”
Ivy bridled. “Nothing wrong with my hearing,” she said c
rossly.
Gus had been silent through this exchange, and now cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should go,” he said, with considerable reluctance. “On my own. Not instead of Deirdre and Theo. We should all three go, those two together and me separately. We can keep in touch with simple signals, and might that way pick up more than one interesting observation. By the way, Deirdre,” he added. “Have you read the Weasel Murphy book?”
“Cover to cover,” she lied. “So you can be sure that nothing will get past me.”
Fifty-two
UPSTAIRS IN HER room, Alwen Jones sat hunched in her chair, staring out of the window at the pleasant garden below. If the ground had suddenly opened up in the middle of the rose bed, and Lucifer himself had emerged, glowing with fire and smelling strongly of rotten eggs, she would not have noticed. In her mind she saw another picture, a familiar one, of her handsome young husband standing beside her in a church full of flowers, smiling down at her and declaring that he would love and cherish her until death did them part. And so he would have, if a terrible compulsion had not overtaken him.
Alwen thought back, going over in her mind those dismal memories. Her sister Doris, although the younger of the two, had married first. Her husband was part of a well-calculated plan. More than twice her age, Geoffrey Osborne was already frail and long past anything much in the way of marital delights. But he owned the local Ozzy’s Casino and was reputed to be a millionaire several times over. Doris, younger and prettier than Alwen, quite soon became a merry widow, and had in due course set her sights on stealing her sister’s husband, William.
All right, Alwen told herself, shifting uneasily in her chair, so William was weak, and easy prey. He had been the baby of the family and was duly spoilt and indulged by his mother. His every want had been anticipated and provided. When he married her, he had recognised a strong character on whom he could depend, someone just like his mother. At first all had gone well with their marriage.
Alwen glanced at her watch. Too late to go down now, and her thoughts had not finished with her yet.
They had been blissfully happy, and the babies were unplanned but welcomed with delight. But then Doris had moved into step two of her plan. Soon after she was widowed, she had invited Alwen and William to spend an evening at her casino, where they could have a meal and a couple of flutters on the spinning roulette wheel. Just a bit of fun, she had assured them, and no expertise needed. She was positive that neither had played before.
Alwen had found it boring, but William was hooked. So hooked that when Doris knew he had moved on to blackjack and games where luck was mixed with skill, she checked in her records that he was in debt and casting about for ways of making money, including rumours of fiddling the books at the brewery. She then generously offered to advance a loan, provided he sampled her considerable charms on a regular basis. If he had said no, she would have had no hesitation in putting her sister Alwen, unaware of his debts, fully in the picture.
Poor William. He struggled for a while with a bad conscience but then in desperation took the easy option and fled from all his transgressions. Needless to say, after he had disappeared out of reach, Doris had put Alwen in the picture in ruthless detail.
Now she took up a photograph from her bedside table. William’s smile, in spite of everything, still warmed her. She replaced it and reached in the little drawer of her desk for a letter newly arrived this morning. It was dated two weeks ago but had taken until early this morning to arrive from Australia, first at her old address and then duly forwarded to Springfields.
She read again the bald words, holding the letter with a shaky hand.
Dear Mrs. Jones. We are writing as William Jones’s solicitors to inform you of his demise in this town on the twenty-third of this month. He contacted us only once, on a matter of claiming compensation for an unsatisfactory purchase. We have now made preliminary enquiries, and are informed that there was an inaccurate rumour many years ago in another part of the country that he had died as a result of a bungee jumping accident. However, we can confirm that he has lived here in Junee for a number of years, though we cannot be sure when he first arrived.
You may not know of his circumstances here. He has lived quietly, almost a recluse, with the local church being his only source of friendship. He was apparently reluctant to give any information about himself or his background, but we have discovered from records that you and he were divorced. To our knowledge he never remarried.
No will has been found, but it is thought he had little in the way of possessions or wealth. We shall be in touch with you further on this matter.
With our sincere condolences, we are, yours faithfully . . .
By now, tears were running down Alwen’s pale cheeks. So she must once more go through all those good and bad years since he had promised to love her forever, but now she knew that he had lived on, alone and probably lonely. Why hadn’t he got in touch and come home? Too scared to face the music. What a terrible price he had paid! She folded the letter carefully, and put it back in the drawer.
Now she thought of the girls. She must tell them, and Bethan would be sad but brave, since she had been too small to get to know her father well. But Bronwen was a different matter. Alwen realised she had no idea how Bronwen would react. She had always thought that in many ways, her elder daughter was stonyhearted, caring only for herself. Perhaps it was because she had had no children, and her husband had turned out to be such a disappointment. But she might remember how William had doted on her, and still comfort herself with those few years when she had come first in his world.
There was a knock at the door and Katya came in. “Do you feel like coming down for a cup of tea before bedtime? Your friends are playing cards, and would, I know, welcome you among them.”
“Cards?” said Alwen. “I think not, Katya. Tomorrow, perhaps. Now I am ready for sleep.”
Fifty-three
THEO HAD BEEN walking for half an hour around the two largest chestnut trees in the Hall park, tracing as he went a large figure of eight, something he had done when solving a problem since he was a child. It was not that there were any magical properties to the number eight, but because the trudge round and round presented no sudden distractions, and he found he could concentrate. He was not even aware that he had fallen into this old habit, and had earlier set out to check the sheep. But then he had become lost in thought, wondering how he could get out of taking Deirdre to Ozzy’s Casino in Thornwell that evening.
He had been careless, he decided, that in the heat of passion, he had agreed to Deirdre’s request without thinking, but now he knew that he could not possibly be seen with Bert Bloxham’s widow in amongst the riffraff who made up the motley crew of gamblers in Thornwell.
Still without a solution to his problem, he broke out of his reverie and set out across the park towards the Hall, thinking that perhaps a strong coffee might help. As he approached the gravelled courtyard at the front of the house, he saw a familiar figure. It was Augustus Halfhide, his tenant from Hangman’s Row.
“Good morning!” he called. “Are you looking for me?” He did hope it was not another complaint about faulty plumbing or dangerous electrical wiring. Those old cottages should really be pulled down, but he relied on the rents to supplement his meagre bank balance.
“Not really,” said Gus, restraining Whippy from an overenthusiastic greeting to Theo’s dog. “It was just such a fine morning, I thought I would walk this way and perhaps take a few photographs of the Hall, if you don’t mind. It’s such a magnificent old building, and positively glows with sun on the ironstone.” He hoped Theo didn’t spot that he was improvising as he went along. He had had no intention of taking photographs, but luckily had his camera in his pocket.
No, he had come this way in the hope of catching Noreen in the kitchen. He intended to warn her that it was all round the village that Theo was going to replace her with the Polish girl from Springfields, and she had better smarten herself up if she wanted to stay.
Added to concern for the old slattern, he was fond of Katya and hated to think of her shut up in the gloomy old Hall with the predatory Theo.
“Splendid!” said Theo. “Do carry on. Perhaps I might see them later? Haven’t thought to take pictures of the old place for years. Anyway, now you’re here, why don’t you come in for a coffee? I could do with a bit of intelligent male conversation!”
“Ah,” said Gus. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”
Theo led the way past the kitchen and put his head round the door to ask Noreen for coffee, frowned when he saw the breakfast dishes still unwashed, and took Gus up the stairs to his study. “It’s the only warm room in the house,” he said. “Quite a chill in the air this morning, don’t you think?”
The conversation proceeded pleasantly enough. Both had from time to time lived in London, and one or two names of mutual friends emerged. “Were you ever at the Ritz Casino?” Theo asked. “I’m sure I’ve seen your face around.”
Gus shrugged. “Only too likely, I’m afraid,” he said. “Finished with all that now, though,” he said, and Theo suddenly saw the answer to his problem. Heaven sent!
“Now, Gus,” he said. “I may call you that, mayn’t I? I wonder if I could ask a terrific favour? I have promised an old friend that I would take her to Ozzy’s Casino this evening, just to look around, and now I find it impossible to make it. Could you take my place, and save my life? Hell hath no fury, and all that. Do say yes!”
Gus was silent for a whole minute, and Theo’s heart began to sink. “Gus?” he asked anxiously.
