by Roberta Kray
‘You shouldn’t mind Esther,’ he said. ‘She can be a little overenthusiastic at times.’
Lolly looked up at his face, tight and drawn. ‘I don’t mind being called Lita.’
‘You shouldn’t do it just because she wants you to.’
‘I don’t mind,’ she repeated. And, in truth, she really didn’t. People had always made fun of her name or questioned her about it. Perhaps it was time for a change. Lita Bruce. No, it wasn’t so bad. And there was the added advantage that if Tony Cecil ever got out of jail and came looking for her, it might not be so easy to track her down. No one would know her as Lolly any more.
‘It’s up to you. You’re the one who has to live with it.’
‘I’ll give it a go.’
‘And the school?’ he asked. ‘What do you think about that?’
So far as Lolly was concerned one school was much the same as another. ‘Is it far away?’
‘If you went to Daynor Bridge, you’d have to board. It’s in Suffolk. You’d come back for the holidays, of course, and I could visit some weekends, take you out for a few hours.’
Lolly hadn’t realised it was a boarding school. She knew they were for posh girls and wasn’t sure how she’d fit in. Not that she fitted in anywhere, so perhaps it didn’t matter. She was savvy enough to know that Esther wanted her out of the house, and that it wouldn’t be sensible to cross her. Strangely, she didn’t resent Esther for this. She understood she was a poor replacement for a child that had been lost and at very best would only ever be tolerated.
‘Have a ponder on it,’ Mal said. ‘You don’t have to make a decision right now.’
They came to the end of the drive, went through the gate and on into the country lane. A few minutes later they were in the village. As they passed through the centre, Mal was acknowledged by most of the people they passed. She could see he was liked, but also that the villagers kept a respectful distance. She wasn’t sure if this was because he owned the big house or because of the tragedy of his lost daughter.
They called in at the florist, where Mal bought a bowl of blue hyacinths, before walking on to the church. This was at the far end of the village, a pretty stone building surrounded by an old graveyard. As they tramped across the wet grass, Lolly paused to try and read the inscriptions on the headstones. Some were so weathered they were barely legible. She breathed in the damp air and hurried to catch up with Mal again.
The final resting place of the Furys was an imposing monument, a wide oblong flanked by pillars, engraved with scrolls and doves and topped by a grey stone angel. There were lots of names on it, the oldest going back to 1803, the most recent that of Catherine Jane Fury who had died in 1959. His mother, she presumed.
As Mal bent to place the bowl of hyacinths at the foot of the headstone, Lolly studied the angel. Its wings were spread out, its eyes downcast. It looked sad, full of pain, and she felt a sudden rush of grief at the loss of her own mum. There was only a simple wooden cross to mark her final resting place in Kellston. Lolly still had the money she had started saving for a headstone, the five one-pound notes that were now rolled up in a sock at the back of a drawer in the peacock bedroom. As yet it was too early to know who she could trust and who she couldn’t.
Mal took a cloth from his pocket and wiped the November dirt from the headstone. He picked out the debris that had blown into the white crystal stones at its base: the leaves and the litter and the little twirly things from the Sycamore trees. Lolly crouched down and helped him. They worked in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. The only sounds were the thin patter of the rain and the light rustling of their fingers.
Mal looked over at her. ‘You don’t have to worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of everything.’
Lolly wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but she nodded anyway and smiled. Glancing up at the angel again, she asked, ‘Do you think all good people go to heaven?’
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t they?’
Lolly stared at the fancy headstone, wondering if God took such things as nice masonry into account when deciding whether to open the pearly gates or not. If he did, her mother was in big trouble. ‘Even poor ones?’
‘Especially poor ones,’ he said.
Lolly didn’t mention her mum’s cheap wooden cross, not wanting him to think she was asking him to buy something better. That was up to her. She’d sort it out when she had enough cash.
‘Come on,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘We’d better get back before it starts tipping down.’
But already it was too late. The heavy clouds began shedding their load even before they’d reached the church gates. The rain ran off Lolly’s head, through her hair and into her eyes. Within seconds, they were both drenched, their clothes dripping wet. They laughed as they raced through the village and along the lane, trying to avoid the puddles. Anyone who didn’t know better would have taken them for father and daughter. It was an easy enough mistake to make.
Their smiles only faded as they jogged round the curve in the drive and saw the police car parked outside the house. Mal stopped dead and stared at it. Lolly’s heart skipped a beat. Had her lies finally caught up with her? Maybe they’d found out about the false alibi she’d given Jude and had come to arrest her.
‘Now what do they want?’ Mal murmured.
They set off again, this time at a walking pace. Lolly was filled with dread, convinced she was about to be dragged off down the station and exposed. And then, perhaps, they would send her to prison. Well, not prison exactly – she was too young for that – but somewhere similar. Her stomach was churning as they climbed the steps and walked through the front door.
Esther was on them immediately. She came out of the big reception room on the right and hissed at Mal. ‘Where have you been? The police are waiting. They’ve been here for twenty minutes.’
‘Yes, I saw the car. What’s going on?’
‘And look at the state of you both. You’re dripping. You’re like two drowned rats.’
‘What’s going on?’ Mal repeated.
Esther’s nose wrinkled. ‘It’s about that Stanley Parrish.’
‘What about him?’
‘Apparently he’s —’ She stopped abruptly and glanced at Lolly. ‘Go downstairs and get Mrs Docherty to find you a towel. And have a hot drink while you’re at it.’
Lolly glanced towards the reception room, desperate to know what the police were doing there, but it was clear Esther wanted to get rid of her. Reluctantly, she turned and headed off along the hall towards the stairs that led down to the kitchen.
In the basement, Mrs Docherty was in a flap. There were numerous books open on the big wooden table, their pages old and stained. She was busy scribbling down notes. Her face was red and flustered, her eyes bright with what might have been excitement but could equally well have been panic.
‘Can you believe it?’ the cook asked, looking up. ‘Mrs Fury wants a big do just before Christmas – and that’s not many weeks away. And a party of twelve for next weekend. They’re all coming back to the house after filming has finished. One minute there’s no one here and the next… Well, I’m not complaining, I like to keep busy, but —’
‘Do you know why the police are here?’ Lolly interrupted. ‘They’re upstairs.’
Mrs Docherty shook her head. ‘Now how would I know a thing like that? It’s Mr Fury’s business, not mine.’
But Lolly didn’t believe her. Mrs Gough was always loitering, always listening outside doors. If the cops had been here for twenty minutes, she would have found out and been straight down to share the news. And that wasn’t because she was friendly with Mrs Docherty – the two women didn’t really get on – but because she liked to lord it over her, to show that nothing happened in the house without her knowing everything about it. ‘I think it’s something to do with Stanley Parrish.’
‘Well, maybe it is and maybe it isn’t. You should get that wet coat off before you catch your death.’
It was a further fifteen minutes before Mal came to find her. He walked in with one of those grim expressions on his face, sat down and said, ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news.’ He placed his hands on his thighs and stared at the carpet for a moment before lifting his gaze again. ‘It’s about Stanley.’ He paused, as if gathering his thoughts before proceeding. ‘Unfortunately, he was in an accident. He was hit by a car and… Well, sadly, he didn’t make it.’
Lolly, who had been expecting to hear something quite different, flinched at the news. Her eyes widened with shock. ‘What? Is he… is he dead?’
Mal nodded. ‘He didn’t suffer. It was very fast. He wouldn’t have known anything about it.’
She wondered if this was true or if it was just one of those things people said to make it all seem less awful than it actually was. Although she hadn’t known Stanley well, she felt bad for having suspected him of grassing her up. Then she remembered how he’d kept his promise to check out how Joseph was. And that he’d been searching for her relatives. There would be nobody to find them now. Instantly, a wave of guilt flowed over her for thinking about her own problems instead of what had happened to him. ‘He was nice,’ she said, not knowing what else to say.
Mal nodded again. ‘Yes, he was a decent man.’
‘When did he…?’
‘Last night. In London.’ Mal sat back and sighed. He closed his eyes for a few seconds as if it hadn’t quite sunk in yet. ‘It was raining and… I’m not sure… he must have been crossing the road but the driver didn’t see him.’
Lolly felt as sorry for Mal as she did for Stanley. She could see that he was shaken up, shocked by the unexpected death. Although he was technically Stanley’s employer, they must have built up a friendship over the years, and she knew what it was like to lose a friend. Jude might not have died but it had still felt like a bereavement when he’d stopped spending time with her.
The door opened and Esther poked her head into the room. ‘Oh, Mal, here you are. I’ve been looking for you.’
‘I was just explaining about Stanley’s accident.’
‘If it was an accident.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
Esther leaned against the door frame, put a hand on her hip and shrugged. ‘Why else would the police have come here? You’re not a relative or anything. They must think there was something suspicious about it.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. It was just routine. They thought, quite rightly, that I’d want to know. He worked for me, didn’t he?’
‘If you can call it that. Anyway, he’s hardly a great loss to the world. I’m sure we’ll all get by without him.’
‘For God’s sake, Esther, show a bit of respect. And if you can’t do it for him, do it for me.’
‘Respect?’ she echoed mockingly. ‘That’s a joke. I haven’t seen much respect for me over the years. But then what I wanted didn’t matter, did it? The two of you just went ahead with your stupid rewards and your ludicrous blood tests. That man never gave my feelings a second thought. You know what?’ A small triumphant smile appeared on her lips. ‘I think he got what he damn well deserved.’
Mal rose to his feet. ‘Stop it! Lolly doesn’t need to hear all this.’
‘Lita,’ Esther said. ‘I thought we’d decided on Lita.’
‘Jesus,’ he murmured.
‘What? Are you going to give me a lecture on priorities now? Would you prefer me to be a hypocrite, to say how sorry I am about Stanley Parrish? Well, I’m not… and I won’t.’ And with that she turned away and flounced off down the hall.
For a moment, Mal stared at the empty space where she’d been standing, and then he looked at Lolly. ‘She doesn’t mean it. She’s just overwrought.’
But Lolly knew venom when she heard it. She guessed it was all connected to Kay, although she didn’t understand why Esther had objected to Stanley’s search for her. She remembered the odd-smelling doctor on Albert Road and the needle he had put in her arm.
Mal raked his fingers through his damp hair and took a few deep breaths. ‘Sometimes we all say things we regret.’
Esther Fury left the house on Sunday afternoon. She didn’t say goodbye to Lolly but just got in her Mercedes, waved goodbye to Mrs Gough and disappeared down the drive. Lolly watched from the first-floor window, standing to one side so she wouldn’t be seen. She wasn’t sorry to see Esther go. Somehow the house seemed a safer place without her in it.
37
It was during the run-up to Christmas that everything changed again. One tall glittering tree went up in the hall, and another outside the front door. Suddenly the house was always full of people. Lolly would run into complete strangers in the corridors, men in smart tailored suits and women who looked like they’d stepped off a movie set. There was music and dancing and the constant sound of laughter. The champagne corks popped until dawn. Cars came and went, a procession of flashy motors that filled up the drive making it look like an upmarket showroom.
Occasionally, if their paths happened to cross, Esther would introduce her to whoever she was with.
‘Oh, yes, this is Lita Bruce, Mal’s ward. I told you about her, didn’t I? She’s an orphan, poor thing. Her mother died in quite tragic circumstances.’
And Lolly, who never knew what to say to the strangers, would smile and hop awkwardly from one foot to another until she could make her escape. Usually she sought refuge down in the kitchen where Mrs Docherty would be flapping around like her clothes were on fire. Girls, including Theresa, came in from the village to help serve the food and drinks and wash up the dishes. The chauffeurs gathered here too, smoking cigarettes, drinking endless mugs of tea and chatting to each other.
When Lolly grew tired of the bustle in the kitchen, she’d hide in the den or the library. Occasionally she would run into Mal who would be sitting reading a book or staring into the bottom of a glass. He seemed worn out by all the company. His face looked gaunt and strained and he often had a faraway expression in his eyes, as though his thoughts were a million miles from the guests who were occupying his house.
Esther, on the other hand, was in her element. She was the perfect sparkling hostess, always at the centre of things, always the focus of everyone’s attention. Basking in the spotlight, she positively glowed. Mrs Gough was happy too, having gained a much welcome opportunity to exert her authority and boss around the additional members of staff. She was like the cat that got the cream.
On this particular Saturday night there was an even larger party than usual and the house was full to bursting. Theresa spent most of the time, when she should have been working, gawping at the guests before dashing back to the kitchen to give Mrs Docherty a rundown of who was there, what they were wearing and who they were flirting with. Lolly didn’t recognise half the names mentioned, but she was sure that Jude would have known every one of them.
Lolly put on her coat and slipped out the back way into the garden. The air was crisp and cold and smelled of wet grass. There was a full moon shedding light on the ground. She took the path towards the lake, glad to escape all the people and be on her own for a while. It gave her space to think. As she tramped down towards the water, she wondered how Jude was getting on. First thing every morning she checked the hall table where the mail was left, but as yet she’d received no reply to her letter. It would come eventually. She was sure of it. She just had to keep on believing.
