Annie sighed and sat down on her small sofa, curling her feet up beneath her and fixing her gaze on her still-dead lights. ‘All right, Murray. Go ahead.’
He was quiet so long, she looked up at him to see what was wrong, to find him staring at her with unreadable eyes.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I was just ... Oh, Annie! This is ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘If you mean your mother’s accusations, I quite agree with you.’
‘Yes. That and – well – us. After last night …’
‘Do you mean the night before last?’ She was being deliberately annoying, but couldn’t seem to help it.
‘Yes, for God’s sake. After that – why are we behaving like strangers?’
‘Oh, Murray. What did you expect? Look what I walked in to!’ She gazed at him with pleading eyes. ‘Don’t you understand? I know you warned me it wouldn’t be easy, but you didn’t say you’d start doubting my word against your mother’s as soon as she spoke.’
‘I didn’t.’ Murray put his mug on the hearth and stood up with an impatient gesture. ‘I just realised – you’d said something about a window. It fitted.’
‘Yes – because despite her apparently manic tendencies, your mother is very clever. She made it fit.’
He came to crouch before her. ‘Did you really think I would believe her and not you? After what I’d told you the day before?’
‘I don’t know,’ cried Annie. ‘That’s what it sounded like. And it was all so awful.’ Her voice was trembling again, the tears threatening. Murray covered her free hand with his own and gently removed her coffee mug.
‘Look, Annie. My mother is ill. I knew that – when she confessed she’d made up the stories about you, but I didn’t realise just how bad she was. When you left, Tracy grabbed her coat and went as well and I had to try and cope on my own. It wasn’t pleasant.’ His grim expression spoke volumes.
‘I’m sorry.’ A little spark of hope had kindled inside Annie and she felt a lightening of the heavy cloud that had settled over her since yesterday morning.
‘Anyway, I managed to get her in to the Land Rover and took her back to Fallowfield. I called her own doctor and left her with our housekeeper, who’s used to her, then I went back to Tallon House.’ He stood up and moved away, thrusting his hands into his pockets. ‘That was when I found the kitten.’
‘Had you forgotten about him?’
‘I had – but my mother hadn’t. He was locked in a cupboard in the bedroom she was using.’
Annie went cold. ‘Perhaps she didn’t realise he was in there?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Annie, but unlikely. I heard him because I was collecting her belongings and looking for – well, other things.’
‘Poor little thing.’ Annie looked over to where the kitten lay sprawled in front of her little fireplace.
‘Yes. I’m afraid he’s lost two of his lives already.’ Murray followed her gaze. ‘Look, Annie, I have to go, but I’ll be back. Will you promise to listen to me?’
She got up, nodding slowly. ‘Yes, of course I will.’ She watched him put on his coat and felt already the wrenching sense of loss.
‘Pretty tree,’ he said, pausing by it on his way to the door.
‘Except that the lights have packed up,’ sighed Annie, gathering up the kitten who had decided to accompany them.
Murray crouched down and traced the wire to the plug, then fiddled with a few of the bulbs. Miraculously, the lights sprang into life and he stood up.
‘Loose connection,’ he said smiling crookedly. ‘Like us.’
She nodded, not knowing what to say. He opened the door and turned up his collar.
‘See you soon.’ He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, flicked the kitten’s nose with a caressing finger and disappeared into the rain, leaving Annie and the kitten staring after him.
Chapter Ten
Annie left the Christmas tree lights on all night. The kitten cried so loudly at being shut in the kitchen that she relented and took it up to bed with her, where it settled happily curled into the back of her neck and woke her very early scratching to get out. Annie staggered blearily downstairs to find him making good use of her crumpled newspapers with a beatific expression on his face. Thankful that he appeared to have the right idea about the facilities, she put on the kettle and made herself a cup of tea, taking it in to the living room and curling up in the armchair to review the events of last night.
She supposed she had almost expected it. Murray could never leave things at such a loose end, he was too organised a person. But despite the fact he had come to find her – and had stated firmly that he didn’t accept Marion’s wild accusations – he hadn’t given her any reason to believe there was anything more than an innate sense of fair play behind it. Her spirits, raised by his visit and her own hopeful speculations, began to sink again, and she started to shiver. Realising it was too early yet for the central heating, she knelt down and cleared the grate, setting a match to firelighters and kindling and sitting back on her heels to watch the blue and yellow flames licking up the chimney. The kitten joined her and she lifted him on to her lap. ‘Well, chum,’ she said, ‘At least I’ll have you left to remind me.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to be almost permanent now and blinked away a few stray tears. ‘What shall we call you?’
The kitten purred loudly and pushed his head up under her chin and Annie watched two glistening tears fall on to the soft fur.
‘Oh, stop it,’ she said out loud to herself in a shaking voice. ‘Why did you ever think he would fall for you – little Miss small-town nobody? Why should he? You were a diversion, and you’d better believe it.’
She sat for a long time staring into the fire trying to assimilate this unpleasant fact, until she realised the heating had come on and it was time she got herself ready for work. There were still presents to wrap, her mother and stepfather would be here in time for supper and she meant to put a casserole in the oven to cook slowly all day. Stiffly, she got to her feet and moved the kitten who gave a protesting chirrup as she put him down.
She had removed the dressing from her head yesterday and decided to risk washing her hair this morning. It stung, but she gritted her teeth and persevered on the theory that a different sort of pain would take her mind off her other, more debilitating misery. She left it loose to dry, and dressed in a holly green jumper and skirt that swung elegantly around her ankles. Slipping her feet into her best high heeled boots, she pinned a poinsettia brooch at her breast and hung little Christmas trees in her ears. After all, it was Christmas Eve. Despite herself, she felt a small thrill of excitement and went downstairs with a lighter heart, to prepare her casserole and wrap the last presents.
‘Now,’ she said to the kitten, as she plaited her hair prior to leaving for the shop. ‘What am I going to do with you? There’s no door on the kitchen, so I can’t shut you in there, and I can’t leave you loose with all these decorations.’
The kitten had already made various sorties into the waste basket that held the tree, both to his and the tree’s imminent danger.
Annie sighed. ‘Come on,’ she said, scooping him up and being rewarded with a loud purr. ‘You’ll have to come with me.’
As she was walking to work, knowing she would have at least one glass of sherry in her own shop and be offered several others by neighbouring shop owners, she tucked the kitten inside her coat, allowing his head to peep out just below hers, much to the amusement of passers by. He proved a great asset in the shop, customers who had only popped in to have a quick look stayed for much longer and felt obliged to buy something, even though there was very little left to buy at this late stage in the season. But Annie and Vicki both sold small paintings, which was a genuine cause for celebration and by the time Annie locked up the shop at 2 p.m. she felt a distinct lift in her spirits.
‘Come on, asset,’ she said to the kitten, who was climbing the card display stands, his little tri
angular tail rotating like a rudder to keep his balance. ‘There, I’ve given you a name. Asset Cat.’ She tucked him inside her coat, picked up the basket containing his new litter tray, litter and food and went out into the still busy Coach House Yard. All the lights were on, and even at just after two in the afternoon, the sky was grey and lowering. ‘Typical Christmas Eve weather,’ sighed Annie to herself and Asset, as she crossed the market square and walked towards the river and home.
The little red brick terrace of houses looked very festive, Christmas trees and lights in every front room and a few decorated hanging baskets outside. The first thing Annie saw when she opened her front door was a large parchment coloured envelope addressed in a strong hand and her heart lurched. In fact, she discovered, after putting Asset and his belongings down, there was quite a pile of late cards, but this large one dwarfed all the rest. She opened it with trembling hands.
The picture on the front was a reproduction of one of her own winter landscapes and inside was a handwritten message.
If I don’t see you when I come down with the kitten, I hope to see you some time over Christmas. Trust me. Murray.
She felt anticipation and adrenalin surging through her and tried to suppress it. Don’t count your chickens, she told herself sternly, going into the kitchen to unpack her shopping.
As the afternoon wore on, however, she couldn’t prevent herself thinking about his message – and his visit last night. Where had he been going? And at that time of night? Then the thought struck her – his father still lived in Hertfordshire. He must have been going there.
But he hadn’t called. She couldn’t resist a glance at the silent telephone, almost willing it to ring. Surely, if he intended to come back and see her, he would call? Gradually, as the afternoon darkened in to evening and she went automatically about the business of the day, putting mince pies in the oven, preparing sprouts for tomorrow’s dinner, all her doubts returned, and with them, depression settled like a mantle round her shoulders.
Asset followed her, trying to climb her skirt, or fighting imaginary assailants under the Christmas tree and finally making it to the top of the television, where he knocked several Christmas cards to the floor and tried to catch the moving images below him on the screen with a gentle paw, until he fell off in an undignified heap, gave up and fell asleep.
Annie wandered from the kitchen to the living room and back, drawing the curtains, stoking the fire, turning off the television and putting on a tape of carols, going upstairs to check her mother’s bedroom was ready, which she knew it was, and in between, picking up the big card that lay beside her chair by the fire and trying to read more into it than was already there.
She knew her mother would arrive by half past six – she always did – but when the familiar triple knock came on the door she jumped with surprise.
‘Mum,’ she cried joyfully, as she threw open the door and the words of welcome died on her lips.
For behind her mother, who wore a sprig of mistletoe in her hair, stood not only Frank, beaming at her out of his round brown face, but Murray, tall and silent.
‘Well, darling, can’t we come in?’ Her mother sounded as though it was the most normal thing in the world to arrive with a totally unexpected, not to mention alarming, guest.
‘Yes.’ Annie stood aside, her brain functions in almost total suspension.
Her mother kissed her, followed by Frank, as she entered the living room, talking all the time. Murray brought up the rear and took her hand, smiling apologetically.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said.
‘I don’t understand,’ she replied, retrieving her hand and going to help dispose of her mother’s various bags and packages.
‘And who is this?’ Linda knelt down by the sleeping kitten in delight.
‘That’s Asset.’ Annie shot a quick glance at Murray.
‘Asset? Why Asset?’ He lifted his eyebrows, his mouth quirking in amusement.
‘I took him to the shop today. People liked him.’ Annie’s voice was catching in her throat as she saw how tired he looked, thick hair flopping over his forehead, the smart shirt beneath the suit crumpled.
‘Darling, I hope you don’t mind Murray coming back with us, but I think you have to listen to what he has to say.’ Linda stood up, her voice firm and decisive. ‘He’s told us most of it, and he’ll tell you later, but first of all, if you can stretch dinner, I think we could all do with something to eat. With a drink first, of course.’ Linda twinkled up at Murray and then gestured to Frank, who brought a bottle of champagne from behind his back with a flourish.
‘Courtesy of Murray,’ he chuckled. ‘Shall I open it, Annie?’
‘Please,’ said Annie faintly, conscious of being taken over.
They drank their champagne, then amid a certain amount of hilarity, Linda and Frank pulled out the gateleg table and Murray helped them to set it. Annie served casseroled beef, potatoes and peas in a dream, pushing her own portion round her plate until her mother scolded her into finishing it. She cleared away and produced an apple pie she’d had in the freezer, with cheese and biscuits to follow, refusing help because there wasn’t room for two in the kitchen.
‘Now,’ said Linda, when the coffee was drunk and Annie’s nerves were stretched to screaming pitch. ‘Frank and I are going to pop over to see some friends for an hour or so. You and Murray can talk over the clearing up.’
Annie saw them out and turned back into the room with apprehension. Murray was standing looking down at the floor, his jacket and tie discarded, hands deep in pockets. There was a long silence. ‘Well?’ asked Annie eventually, going towards the table to begin clearing the dishes.
A long hand stayed her wrist.
‘Leave that.’ He pulled her round to face him and took her other hand.
‘Annie, you must believe me. I didn’t mean to leave you without telling you everything I knew, but there were still gaps I had to fill in.’
‘So where did you go?’
‘To Cornwall.’
‘Cornwall?’ gasped Annie. ‘I thought you must have gone to your father.’
‘No, I came here from him. I went to him first. I had to tell him what was happening.’
‘About your mother?’
‘Partly. And your father. And you.’
Annie shook her head, bewildered. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Come and sit down and I’ll tell you. Would you like a drink? I’ve got a bottle of brandy in my bag.’
‘I’ve got brandy …’ Annie nodded towards the little desk. ‘Over there. It is Christmas.’
‘Sorry.’ He smiled down at her on the sofa, before going to pour out two brandies. When he was seated beside her, he took a sip from his glass before shooting her a quick look and then leaning back to look into the fire. Asset immediately jumped on to his lap. Absentmindedly stroking the soft fur, he began to speak.
‘Well, first of all, after you’d left and I took Marion home, she was rambling. Piecing together what she said, I realised that the incident with the window was the other way round, as I had guessed. What exactly did she do?’ He looked at Annie’s bent head.
‘She pushed a window out at me while I was on the steps. It knocked me flying.’ Annie lifted her head to meet his eyes. ‘She scared me.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Murray grimly. ‘She scared me. Anyway, after I left her at Fallowfield, I went back to Tallon House …’
‘Where you discovered Asset.’
‘Where I discovered Asset. Which made me realise how vindictive she was. Then I managed to turn up the papers that she had waved at me as proof you had been in touch with your father all these years. They turned out to be the letters he had written instructing his solicitors to make payments to you and your mother – and letters to both of you.’
‘Why didn’t we ever receive them?’ Annie’s eyes were wide with incredulity.
‘Because they were never sent. Don’t ask me how, but she managed to diver
t the funds for her own use. I think she instructed the solicitors that they were to pay her, and she was to pass on the money to you. I shall certainly be looking into that after Christmas, but as I’ve said before, Marion can be very specious when she tries.’ He took a sip of brandy and was silent for a few moments.
‘Henry, of course, found out, which was why he arranged his will as he did. She was certain you must know what she’d done, which was why she was still so determined to get rid of you even after you’d offered her the house and the money. Which, incidentally, you must not pass over, now.’
‘No, I see that.’ Annie was stupefied, but her brain had begun to work again. ‘What will you do about her, though?’
‘I don’t want her at Fallowfield, that’s for sure. I asked my father last night what he thought. He thinks we should put her in some kind of home.’
‘Oh, no.’ Annie was aghast.
‘What else?’ Murray shrugged. ‘She may be my mother, but what she’s done is criminal, and she’s certainly not mentally stable.’
‘Why don’t we,’ suggested Annie slowly, not seeing his sharp look at her use of the pronoun, ‘Turn Tallon House into a sort of exclusive rest home for disabled people? Then she could stay there, in my father’s rooms, where she belongs, and other people would benefit too. There would be trained staff to look after her and she wouldn’t feel that she was being threatened or dispossessed.’
There was such a long silence that Annie looked up apprehensively, uncertain of what she would see.
‘What an extraordinary person you are, Annalise King.’ Murray’s voice was soft. He put down his glass, removed hers from her hand and put Asset, complaining, on the floor. He pulled her gently towards him and closed his mouth over hers. Before she could savour the feel and taste of him, he put her away from him, but retained both her hands in his.
‘You can do that for my mother?’
‘And for my father.’ She gazed back at him seriously. ‘And your father. And you.’
A Will to Love Page 13
