Death of a Heavenly Twin

by Anne Morice

  ‘We almost ran into him. He was skimming down your drive at a hundred miles an hour.’

  ‘How extraordinary! Are you sure it was Walter?’

  ‘So Julie said.’

  ‘Well, she must have been mistaken. Walter hasn’t been near the place. I’ve been here myself ever since I left you, except for a couple of minutes on the telephone. Oh, damn! Oh, Tessa, do forgive me! I completely forgot to tell you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The telephone call; it went right out of my head. Goodness, how dreadful of me! I’m most terribly sorry.’ She looked so utterly distraught that only one explanation occurred to me.

  ‘Was it Robin? Has something happened to him?’

  ‘Oh no, nothing like that. It was your cousin. He said his name was Toby Crichton.’

  ‘Oh yes, Toby.’

  ‘He said it wasn’t urgent but that you’d know the number if you felt like calling him back.’

  ‘Yes, I will, if you don’t mind. He lives not far away; well, only about ten miles, and I’ve told him he must come over tomorrow and swell the takings.’

  ‘Oh, super! That’s simply marvellous, Tessa. And listen, why not ask him to come for lunch? We all adore his plays and Magnus would be thrilled to meet him. Come along inside and ring him up right away.’

  She was certainly an impeccable hostess, neglecting no opportunity to flatter and cosset the guest, and yet it was hard to believe that such a dramatic build up for a most unsensational telephone call had been entirely guileless. Whatever else, it had very effectively swept the subject of Walter under the carpet.

  CHAPTER SIX

  1

  Magnus also denied all knowledge of Walter’s visit, when the subject was reopened several hours later. He had spent the whole day in his own apartments, presumably sorting out the muddles of Munich, and did not burst upon us until just before dinner. The bandage by then had been replaced by a wad of lint held in place with sticking plaster.

  ‘Just a very simple dinner,’ Sarah had explained to me apologetically. ‘I do hope you won’t mind, but they’re all up to their eyes in the kitchen with buns and cakes for tomorrow.’

  Curiously enough, she was wearing the identical acid green trouser suit, which had looked so harsh and unbecoming on Julie the night before. Julie, on the other hand, had elected to put on the identical maroon one, in which she succeeded in looking merely drab, so I was more thankful than ever to have opted out of this particular contest.

  In fact, I had rather skimped on the grande toilette that evening, having spent the hour before dinner pottering to and fro between my bedroom and bathroom while I ran through the speech in my head. I had been faintly annoyed to discover that, despite Magnus’s assurance, the pompous peroration had been retained intact and unaltered in the final version, proving either that his flair for detail was not quite so highly developed as he imagined or else that in retyping it Sarah had ignored his instructions. Whatever the reason, I did not intend to let them get away with it but meanwhile, being quite accustomed to delivering other people’s lines, however silly, I automatically committed that passage to memory, along with the rest, meaning to attack Magnus about it as soon as the opportunity arose.

  In the event I never did so, for other more pressing matters were soon to obtrude and push it out of my mind.

  Had it not been for the conspiracy of silence which had wrapped itself like a cocoon round the mysterious motor cyclist, the incident might have faded into the background, but in fact I only waited for Magnus to ask me if I was enjoying myself to bring him up to date on this matter.

  ‘Apart from that rather unpleasant experience, everything’s been lovely,’ I concluded.

  He had been looking from me to Julie in apparent bewilderment during my recital, and once again I had the impression that Sarah, without once glancing in our direction, was listening to every word.

  ‘How very distressing!’ Magnus said. ‘Are you sure it was Walter, Julie?’

  ‘No, I’m not. Poor Walter, I’m afraid I did him an injustice. I assumed it was him because he’s the only person we know who rides one of those machines; but people all look alike in their helmets and goggles, don’t they? I expect it was someone who turned down here by mistake, thinking it was a lane, and then got in a panic when he realised he was on private property.’

  She paused, and a strange silence fell over the whole party. In the course of it a brief look passed between Sarah and Julie, and Julie said:

  ‘In fact, I’m positive now that it can’t have been Walter because when I telephoned Babs about borrowing some playing cards she mentioned that he’d gone over to spend the day with a friend in Oxford. He left immediately after breakfast.’

  2

  ‘And if it hadn’t been for the last bit I might have fallen for it,’ I admitted. ‘Inexperienced liars always mess things up by over-elaborating.’

  ‘How do you know she’s inexperienced?’ Toby asked.

  He had arrived at Eglinton Hall just after midday on Saturday which, strictly speaking, was a little early for a luncheon engagement but it had come about through a combination of circumstances for which I was largely responsible. Sarah had impressed upon me that lunch would be served punctually, to enable us to be in our places on the platform by half past two, and knowing his dilatory ways I had lopped half an hour off this time, as well as greatly exaggerating the distance from Roakes Common. Evidently, I was such an experienced liar that I had slightly under-elaborated, and he had walked into the house about an hour before anyone expected him.

  Since by this time Magnus was escorting the judges round the fruit and vegetable exhibits, Kit and Sarah were in the meadow setting up posts for the musical pony ride and Julie was supervising the layout of the tombola prizes, it fell to me to entertain him, and I had begun with a tour of the house and garden, no doubt displaying all the ridiculous pride of ownership of the guest of twenty four hours’ standing in the presence of an even newer arrival. At any rate he had rapidly become bored to smithereens by this performance, as well as worn out by the physical slog, so I had led him to a seat in the shade of a cedar tree and had attempted to divert him with tales of life chez Benson-Jones. This was much more up his street, for he was always passionately interested in people he scarcely knew and was unlikely to meet again, and he listened with gratifying absorption to my descriptions of the flying brick, the intricate family relationships and the mad motor cyclist, to name but three of the subjects I brought out for his inspection.

  ‘How do you know she’s inexperienced?’ he asked again, since I had hesitated over answering the question on the first time round.

  ‘It’s hard to explain, Toby, but you may see what I mean when you meet her. It’s not that she’s retarded exactly, but I think she’s been over protected because of her illness. She’s so naive, too. Take this crush she’s got on Kit. You wouldn’t expect a child of ten to be so blatant about it, and yet I don’t believe she has the slightest idea that anyone has caught on.’

  ‘Do you suppose it bothers Sarah at all?’

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t think she takes it seriously. That’s half the trouble. They’re only a few minutes apart in age, but she behaves to Julie like a bossy headmistress who’s made a pet of one of the pupils.’

  ‘Which may be why the pupil has never grown up?’

  ‘Exactly; although Sarah herself is rather immature in some ways. All this clamouring for approval and reassurance must mean a basic insecurity of some kind, and yet it’s hard to see the reason for it. The only thing she seems positive about is that she’ll marry Kit and still keep on running her father’s affairs, with Julie as the errand boy.’

  ‘It sounds very daft, but one has to remember that no one who was completely sane would dream of marrying the Kitbag.’

  ‘I agree, and he’s another case. Honestly, Toby, I don’t know what to say about Kit.’

  ‘Well, that makes a change.’

  ‘He’s turning out to be such a
dual personality. At the studios he’s the complete extrovert, ever so matey and democratic with all the technicians and showing off like mad, but with this lot he’s completely subdued. And he got absolutely stoned the other night. It was quite a shock because normally he can take any amount without turning a hair.’

  ‘Perhaps the idea of marrying Sarah has gone sour on him and he hasn’t the nerve to tell her so?’

  ‘I shouldn’t wonder. He was probably dazzled by all the power and riches and, not being very sophisticated, imagined that he was carrying off the prize of the century. Whereas any man in his senses would have swum the Atlantic sooner than get caught in her net.’

  ‘Isn’t swimming the Atlantic more or less what he intends?’

  I was unable to bring him up to date on this topic because Magnus came bounding up to introduce the secretary of the local branch of the conservationists. He was an aquiline dyspeptic looking man named Dr Simmons, who turned out to be the very one whom Sarah had been so anxious to placate, and I could tell that in this instance there were grounds for trepidation. However, his disagreeable manner may have been merely the protective colouring of one who had learnt to be on his guard against the perfect stranger’s request for free medical advice and so, leaving Toby, the world’s foremost hypochondriac, to show him just how tough life could be, I walked ahead with Magnus. He was sportily attired for the occasion in white trousers and dark blue blazer and was demonstrating the benefits of his gymnastic apparatus by striding forth like an Olympic champion. One of the adhesive strips on his surgical dressing had stopped adhering and he kept pressing it back into place, which reminded me to ask him:

  ‘By the way, how did you come by that cut? It might be as well to know.’

  He laughed and patted my arm. ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? Some Bank Holiday revellers came up to the house the other night after the pubs had closed and bunged a stone through the window. I happened to be standing in the line of fire.’

  ‘Hard cheese!’

  ‘Wasn’t it? Luckily, it was only a graze; and it may provide you with a valuable tip.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how.’

  ‘When putting out a story for public consumption, always stick as near to the truth as possible.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied, ‘but I knew that already. My husband would add that it puts us in the top bracket of the criminal classes.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  1

  At half past two, when the band of the local Fire Brigade launched into the opening bars of ‘Bonnie and Clyde’, the grass verge bordering the drive was already thick with cars, and by the time the official party mounted the platform a crowd of several hundred was gathered below it. I was installed in the front row between Magnus and Dr Simmons, while Sarah and Julie sat behind with Kit, Sarah now attired as a startlingly clean and affluent gypsy, complete with plunging neckline, immense gold earrings and scarlet buckled shoes.

  As I stood up to begin my speech, a trifling, but nonetheless annoying hitch occurred. I had already noticed that the group of cameramen who made up the front row of the audience had been joined at the last minute by Henry. In fact, his arrival had caused quite a stir, because he had jostled his way through from the back and had then plopped down cross-legged on the grass, placed an enormous tartan hold-all at his feet and smiled benignly up at us, as though signalling for the proceedings to begin.

  I realised afterwards that Sarah must have been strung up to the highest pitch of nervous agitation and that this trivial incident had snapped the last thread of her self-control, for with no warning at all she went into action. There was a rustle of gypsy petticoats as she left her seat and went down the wooden steps to the lawn, pushing her outstretched arms before her in shoo-ing movements, like one turning back a flock of geese. Punctuated by murmurs and giggles from the audience, she stood with her back to us talking to Henry who gazed up at her with mournful, questioning eyes. For a minute or so it looked like stalemate, but finally he got to his feet and began to push his way back through the crowd. His progress was accompanied by laughter and a few sporadic outbursts of applause from the crowd, but it did not appear to be malicious, and indeed several of those nearest to him smiled and patted his shoulder as he passed. Nevertheless it had been an embarrassing episode and no one looked more conscious of the fact than Sarah herself as she returned to the platform. Magnus did not so much as glance at her but continued with a frowning scrutiny of his finger nails, although it was probably I who most deplored Henry’s departure. It is such a useful trick to single out one member of an audience who appears to be paying attention and to address oneself exclusively to him, and Henry had shown every indication of being ideally suited for this role.

  Fortunately I soon found a substitute in Martin Graham. He was standing in the fourth or fifth row, but even so I could see his glinting, fanatical eye fastened upon me. Responding with a matching concentration, I blazed through the whole speech without a single fluff and did not realise until I was well into it that the silly, platitudinous final passage was also getting an airing.

  Despite all this drivel, I got quite a good hand, although Magnus managed to upstage me and get an even bigger one by showering me with kisses and bravos, bringing loud applause from the voters. These antics concluded, a portly female of about three years old was shovelled up on to the platform by an over-anxious adult and eventually prevailed upon to hand over a bunch of carnations before being led away, yelling at the top of her lungs about the injustice of it all.

  Magnus then made a brief announcement, urging all present to enjoy themselves and spend a lot of money, and I was hauled off by scowling Simmons to be introduced to the winners of the produce competitions.

  This concluded my official duties and, predictably enough, everyone instantly lost interest in me and became immersed in their own busy lives. Even Toby had deserted me although I did finally run him to earth near Madame Rosetta’s tent. In the meantime, I had acquired scores of raffle tickets, guessed the name of the doll, the weight of the cake and the number of beans in the jar, had staked out my claim for the buried treasure and also patronised Julie’s tombola. There I drew four blanks and the number thirteen, which lived up to its reputation by providing me with a bottle of ginger wine. Moreover, as she had a bevy of capable women assisting her, plus assorted cubs and brownies, the whole transaction only used up half a minute, and time had now become the most expendable commodity.

  ‘You wouldn’t have any change?’ Julie asked me. ‘We’re running short.’

  ‘It’s worse than that,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve no money left at all. I was going to ask if I could pay for my strawberry tea by cheque.’

  ‘I must go indoors and get some,’ she said, taking a handful of notes from her cash box. ‘I’m leaving you in charge, Mrs Parry, but I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Luckily, Sarah thinks of everything,’ she explained to me, as we walked away. ‘She’s stashed twenty pounds’ worth of silver in the downstairs cloakroom.’

  ‘I’ll fetch it for you, if you like,’ I said. ‘I’d welcome a job. I feel rather superfluous at the moment.’

  ‘You shouldn’t. You’ve done your bit and can afford to rest on your laurels.’

  ‘It’s about the only thing left which I can afford.’

  We had reached the house by this time but instead of going inside she turned her back on the door, and I had the distinct impression of being seen off. It was reinforced when she said, with one of her sideways glances:

  ‘If you’re serious about wanting a job, Tessa, perhaps you could go and cast an eye on Henry?’

  ‘Why? What’s he up to?’

  ‘Apparently, he’s already won the pig in the bowling competition and there are rumours that he’s favourite for the cockerel in the dart throwing.’

  ‘It sounds as though he’s doing quite well without any help from me.’

  ‘That’s the trouble. The local champions may not feel too happy about being trounced by an .
. .’

  ‘African?’

  ‘Outsider, I was going to say, a term which includes someone from the next village, incidentally. Perhaps you could draw him off, in a tactful way? You could point out that Babs might not be too pleased to have all this livestock on the premises. I’ll leave it to you, though, because I must see about this change. Mrs Parry will be having kittens if I leave her much longer.’

  Abandoned once more, I ambled across to the darts enclosure, where a cloud no bigger than Australia was hanging over the proceedings. A few gloomy looking spectators were leaning on the ropes, but neither Henry nor anyone else was playing. The scorer’s expression as I approached indicated a revival of hope that there was one born every minute.

  ‘Want to try your luck? Three for a bob, and ladies stand half way up the pitch. Come on, now! Have a go!’ I found a fivepenny piece in my parking meter purse and accepted the three darts. The first one struck the wooden mount, the second actually found the board and the third sailed over the top of it and fell to earth I know not where. I had scored a total of eight.

  ‘Hardly worth writing it down?’ I suggested.

  “You could have another try. Only a hundred and forty to beat.’

  ‘No thanks, I’m not quite in that class.’

  ‘That’s what they all say. Not very good for business, is it? Might as well shut up shop, with only a couple of quid in the kitty. That’s a laugh for you! We took going on eighty last year.’

  ‘What you need are some consolation prizes for the runners-up. I expect it can be arranged. Hang on a bit and I’ll try and organise something.’

  Julie had not returned to her post, so I was unable to consult her, but in any case it presented itself as just the kind of problem that Sarah would enjoy worrying over, and I therefore set off in quest of a prophecy or two from Madame Rosetta. It was then that I met Toby, walking thoughtfully away from her tent.

  ‘Any good?’ I asked him.

  ‘Quite remarkable,’ he admitted. ‘She’s the real thing. Do you know, she told me I was destined to meet a dark stranger who would alter the course of my life, and by the most astonishing coincidence I did. A very dark stranger indeed, and he seemed to know his role too, for he immediately got into conversation on the pretext of asking the time. I can’t honestly say that it has made much difference to my life so far, but it’s early days.’