‘So you didn’t see Tod yesterday?’
‘Can’t remember the last time I set eyes on him, to tell the truth.’ Ellie and Rose plodded on to the swings in the park. There was a
group of men leaving the park as they entered. Some police, the builders. They looked as tired and depressed as Ellie and Rose felt. And it was only three in the afternoon.
‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Rose?’ ‘Such a little thing it was, not to mind, it’ll get sorted. Not today of all days, right?’
Frank made them push him and push him on the swings. Then he ran around while they collapsed on to a nearby seat. Finally they coaxed him back into the buggy and made their way back. Mrs Coppola’s house was all lit up, a police car outside.
Ellie’s house was dark and quiet. The builders weren’t there, knocked off for the day – or else gone to help the police search further afield. There was a message on the answerphone to say that Frank’s babysitter was back from the doctor’s with some antibiotics and would ring again if she felt well enough to work the next day. Also a message from Diana to remind Ellie that they still needed to discuss a projected house and flat swop, and to do this Diana proposed to have a meal with her that evening.
‘Can’t,’ said Ellie to herself. ‘Won’t.’ The prospect of a fight with Diana did tend to sink the heart rather. It was beyond her to understand where Diana had got the idea from that Ellie would calmly vacate her own home to let Diana move in.
Diana had moved down to London to take a job managing a block of flats owned by her great-aunt Drusilla, leaving her husband Stewart to sell their house up north and follow her down. Diana was in a perfectly good rented two-bedroomed flat locally at the moment and when their house was sold, they would no doubt find something to buy. But Diana seemed to have been born greedy. Ellie sighed. If only her dear Frank were still alive … but there. If wishes were fishes …
At present Stewart was still working up north and living in the marital home, while commuting south at weekends. He was a nice man and devoted to Diana but his failure to gain promotion at work was putting a strain on their marriage. Ellie banished the suspicion that Diana was tiring of a husband who couldn’t provide her with the lifestyle to which she aspired.
As for the idea of Ellie meekly handing her house over to Diana, Ellie told herself for the umpteenth time that she only had to stand firm, that Diana couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do and she did not, repeat not wish to leave her own little house. Why should she, for heavens’ sake?
Rose made some tea for them both while Ellie hauled Frank out of his buggy and let him run around the sitting room. Neither of them had enough energy to talk.
Ellie told herself she needed to shop, to get some food in for herself. Milk. Loo paper. Instant coffee and tea bags. Fresh fruit and veg. She made a list and sat down to rest her aching head for a while. She had promised to get round to see Aunt Drusilla. But how? She tried to pray but found it difficult. Went into the kitchen and wept a little with her back carefully turned so that Rose shouldn’t see.
Rose called from the sitting room. ‘He’s just done another pooh!’
Ellie cleaned Frank up. Again. He was fractious, wanted to pull all the books out of the bookcase, switch the telly on and off, sweep the flower vase off the mantelpiece. When prevented from doing what he wanted, he kicked and screamed. ‘No!’ was the only word in his vocabulary at the moment. Ellie tried to hold on to the fact that before he started teething, he’d been a different child. It was hard to remember that when he was throwing a tantrum.
Ellie decided that this was one time she could reasonably expect Diana to get home early and resume her motherly duties. Diana had a mobile, of course. Ellie hated mobiles. All that technology was frightening. And how anyone remembered those long sequences of numbers, she couldn’t think. Diana had programmed her mobile number into Ellie’s ordinary phone memory, so it should in theory be easy to contact her. Not so easy to explain to Diana that she must leave her very important work and return home. Now!
Diana said she couldn’t possibly leave, as she had a site meeting with the decorators in half an hour at Aunt Drusilla’s block of flats down by the river. And no, nobody else but her could deal with them. Diana loved playing at being an executive and had taken to power-dressing in a big way.
‘I don’t care what meetings you have,’ said Ellie. ‘I have to go out to get food and I must see to Aunt Drusilla.’
‘She’s making a fuss about nothing, as usual. The sooner she goes into a home, the better.’
‘I’m afraid she wouldn’t agree,’ said Ellie, tired to the point of feeling faint. ‘I’ll give you half an hour to finish up and get home. Then I’ll order a minicab, take Rose back home, get some food and pay a quick call on Aunt Drusilla.’
‘Well, if you’re going to the shops, you might as well get me some—’
Ellie put the phone down with a clatter and to stop Diana ringing back, booked herself a minicab. Rose had painfully managed to get down on her knees to stop little Frank from jamming a biscuit into the video recorder. Frank was going to start screaming at any minute. He was also very smelly. Again.
‘I’m getting too old for this,’ said Ellie, changing the little boy. He stared up at her with hard dark eyes, clutching a wooden spoon and banging it on the table.
Rose was uncharacteristically terse. ‘Do you think he does it on purpose? Oh, my back!’
Ellie tried to cuddle Frank but he would have none of it. He struggled out of her arms so she set him down on the floor where he made a beeline for the cat Midge, who was curled into a circle on top of the boiler. Without opening an eye, one inch of Midge’s tail began to twitch. Rose and Ellie watched as Frank tried to grab it. Both women were too exhausted to stop him.
‘My money’s on Midge,’ said Rose, who was a fan of Ellie’s formidable cat.
Ellie hesitated. ‘We mustn’t let Frank get scratched.’
Rose sighed. ‘I suppose we’d never hear the end of it.’
Frank went purple with rage at not being able to reach the cat. He stamped his feet and banged the boiler. Midge rose to his feet, stretched himself into an upside-down U shape, turned round with his back to them and returned to sleep.
‘What is my darling getting so upset for?’ Diana had swept in, unheard. She picked Frank up and he turned off the tears and gooed at his mother, hitting her with the wooden spoon he still held in one hand.
Ellie and Rose made their escape. As the minicab passed the Coppola house, they turned their heads to see the police car still outside.
They were quiet for the rest of the journey.
Ellie’s husband had left her very comfortably off so while she did not drive a car, she had recently opened an account with a local minicab firm. The driver waited while she dropped Rose off at the council flats, did a quick shop in the Avenue, and then took herself and her packages on to Aunt Drusilla’s.
As they drew up on the gravelled driveway of the large Victorian house, Ellie straightened her back and tucked her chin in. For years during Frank’s lifetime she had been at his Aunt Drusilla’s beck and call so that now even the sight of the building made her feel cowed. The house had actually been left to Ellie in her husband’s will, but both women knew that Ellie would never turn Frank’s aunt out.
‘Wait for me. I shouldn’t be more than half an hour.’
There was a nice-looking Jaguar in the drive, which meant that Aunt Drusilla’s son Roy was visiting. Roy was Aunt Drusilla’s illegitimate son who had been adopted at birth and risen to become a successful architect. He had reappeared in his mother’s life a while back, hoping that some family money might come his way. He had stayed for all sorts of reasons: because he’d found a property in the neighbourhood suitable for development, and because he’d grown to admire his mother.
He’d also stayed to court Ellie, at first because she was a wealthy widow and after that because he’d become fond of her. Some of Ellie�
��s friends likened him to a second-hand-car salesman; others thought him quite charming.
As Ellie mounted the steps to the great front door, Roy opened it to leave. Tall, well-built, silver-haired, Irish blue eyes, well dressed.
‘Ellie, my dear. I was just thinking about you.’ Voice and eyes were warm. Ellie liked him, found him entertaining and was wary of his effect on her. She wasn’t sure she should trust a man who cast sexual lures over a woman of her age.
‘I came as soon as I could. How is she?’
‘Shaken. Slipped on the third step up and fell. Gave herself a black eye and a sprained knee. She’s resting in bed, now. The daily’s just gone. Left her a foul-looking stew for supper. I said I’d fetch in some fish and chips, unless you’ve got something better with you …?’
Ellie couldn’t help grinning. Aunt Drusilla eating fish and chips out of newspaper would indeed be something. ‘Will you get her a take-away?’
‘She’s refused my offers of Chinese, Indian and pizzas. With disdain. Any other suggestions?’
‘She should have some frozen meals in her freezer. If not, try Tesco’s frozen meals. She hasn’t got a microwave, but you could use the oven.’
‘If you’ll help me light it …?’
She laughed. ‘Not tonight. I’ve got to get back.’ With a pang she remembered. ‘Young Tod’s missing, not been seen since last night.’
‘Oh, he’ll turn up. Boys are like that. Shall I bring a bottle round and share it with you later on?’
‘Sorry, Roy. I’m flaked out, just dying to get to bed. Also Diana’s supposed to be coming for supper.’
‘Ah.’ He liked Diana as little as Diana liked him.
Sometimes I like you, Roy, sometimes I don’t.You might have pretended to be worried about Tod.
She went into the great dark house, turning on lights as she went. From floor to high ceiling, double-lined velvet curtains kept out the dusk.
She climbed the wide, shallow stairs to the first floor and entered the long, parquet-floored main bedroom with its hand-blocked blue-andwhite Chinese patterned wallpaper, and intricately carved mahogany bedroom suite. No built-in fitments for Miss Quicke. She’d been born in that boat-shaped bed, her father had died in it and she intended to do the same.
The old lady was propped up with pillows, looking as small as a child, a wet flannel draped across one eye.
‘You took your time.’
Ellie drew a chair up to the bed and took the old lady’s hand in hers. The skin was only slightly too warm. Not much of a temperature, if any.
‘There was a problem.Young Tod’s missing since last night. His mother’s hysterical. We had to call the police. Also, Diana dumped baby Frank on me. His babysitter had to go to the doctor’s and is now on antibiotics.’
‘And I chose today to fall down the stairs. Bad timing.’ At least Aunt Drusilla could laugh at herself.
‘How are you?’
‘Bruised. I don’t hold with painkillers but Roy got me some and they seem to be working. He even made me some tea, not that I could drink it.’
Ellie smiled, looking at the mismatched teacup and saucer on a rough wooden tray nearby. Aunt Drusilla liked the best china, silver, expensive trays, thinly cut bread and butter, shortcake biscuits from Fortnums. ‘Shall I get you some more?’
‘In a minute.’ Aunt Drusilla had left her hand in Ellie’s. For years Miss Quicke had treated Ellie as her own personal slavey, but after Ellie’s much-loved husband – and Miss Quicke’s nephew – died, Ellie had gradually emerged from his shadow. Of course she still missed Frank, but she’d discovered that she could manage all sorts of things quite well by herself, thank you. In consequence, Miss Quicke had begun to treat Ellie more as an equal.
‘The boy Tod. You’re fond of him, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do they know why …?’
‘No.’ Ellie sniffed. ‘I must be getting a cold.’ She had yet another flash of the tool shed. Tod couldn’t be there though, because the padlock was on. Diana would have noticed if it hadn’t been properly fastened.
Roy had tried to draw the bedroom curtains but left gaps between. Ellie remedied this, shutting out the night.
‘You might get me a hot-water bottle, too. My feet are like ice.’
Ellie took the tea tray downstairs and returned with a fat hot-water bottle and a china mug of hot tea, no milk, weak, with two slices of lemon in it.
‘I must go. I have the minicab waiting. I keep thinking about Tod and my garden shed. It’s no good. I’ll have to go and check for myself.’
‘Don’t worry about me. Roy’s bringing me in something decent to eat. Take care of yourself.’
Ellie bent to kiss the old woman’s cheek. ‘Thank you, Aunt Drusilla.’
‘For what, girl?’
‘For understanding. I’ll be in tomorrow.’
In the cab going home, Ellie relaxed, closing her eyes. A padlock which was secure. A key in Tod’s possession. How could he be inside, if the padlock were on and properly fastened?
He couldn’t. Could he?
Think, girl, think.
Suppose he’d wanted to hide himself away? He could open the padlock
with his key and go in. Dump his school bag and swimming things. He’d made a sort of den in there, where he kept a lantern with a stub of candle
– he preferred it to a torch. He even had some stick insects in a closed jar. His mother wouldn’t allow them in her house.
He would sit there for hours, reading in an old reclining chair with a rug on it. Under the window there was a table which Ellie used for potting up seeds.There was a very special smell in there, of fertilizer, potting compost, earth. Garden tools hung on nails from the wall.
How could you close the door and put the padlock on from the inside? Well, you couldn’t, obviously. You’d have to find another way out of the shed … by the window? A window kept firmly latched shut on the inside.
But the window was not that high off the ground. Suppose Tod had wanted to hide himself away for a bit. To scare his mother. As a prank, maybe. A prank that might have gone wrong.
Suppose that he’d taken the padlock off, opened the door and gone inside. He could then climb on the table and open the window as wide as it would go. Perhaps he might have wedged it open with something, a flower pot, a bamboo stick.
He could go outside again. Close the door. Feed the padlock through the hasp and snap it shut.
Then climb in through the open window. It wouldn’t be that easy, but it could be done. Once inside again, he could have shut the window tight and latched it securely.
Hey presto. He was inside a locked room.
Oh, it was clearly a prank that had gone wrong. Once inside, he must have been taken ill, gone down with flu perhaps. Something must have happened to prevent him from leaving once he considered he’d frightened everyone enough.
Yes, that was it.
Thank you, Lord, for helping me to work it out.
When I get hold of the little brat, frightening everyone silly like that …!
But Diana looked in through the window. She would have seen him if he were there, wouldn’t she? Perhaps. Perhaps not. If he’d hidden in a corner, under the rug …
Ellie signed for the minicab and carried her purchases indoors. Diana met her in the hall with a fractious Frank in her arms. ‘Mother, what have you been giving Frank to eat? He’s done nothing but fill his pants since I got here and—’
‘I won’t be a minute.’ Ellie unearthed her big torch in the cupboard under the stairs, ignoring Diana’s complaints. Midge wandered in from outside, letting the cat flap clang to behind him. He wanted to be fed but she couldn’t wait any longer.
The framework of the conservatory was stark against the night sky. Perhaps there would be a frost that night? There was a lamp post in the alley at the bottom of the garden and that, with the torch, helped her to see where she was going as she made her way down the path. Midge followed her.
The shed was in darkness, no candle alight inside.
‘Tod?’ She shook the padlock.
No reply.
Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps he wasn’t there, after all. She shone her torch through the window and played it around.
Everything looked normal, except … except that the rug wasn’t on the chair any more. Midge pressed his nose to the door of the shed and Ellie felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck.
Tod was there, all right. Midge sensed it. Perhaps could hear him breathe.
She unlocked the padlock and took it off.
Pulled the door wide open.
A dense shadowy interior, barred with light from the lamp in the alley.
Midge disappeared inside.
Ellie pointed the torch after him.
Three
A
t first she couldn’t see anything unusual, but Midge darted forward and disappeared behind the stack of plant pots under the table by the window. Ellie listened for breathing, but heard none.
She sat on the garden chair and shone her torch on to the ranks of pots. She couldn’t see anything to cause her alarm. Then she caught the flash of Midge’s eyes reflected in the torchlight. She looked for the lantern but it wasn’t there. Nor was the box of matches.
‘Mother, where are you? Don’t you realize it’s bedtime for poor little Frank …?’
‘Not now, Diana,’ muttered Ellie.
Dead or alive, Tod could be hidden behind those plant pots. He was small for his age and wouldn’t take up much space. If he’d wanted to hide himself away, he could have pulled the stacks of pots out from the wall of the shed by the light of the candle in the lantern, crawled in there with the rug to make himself a comfortable nest and pulled the pots back in front of him.
Murder of Innocence Page 3
