‘Forget it. It was my fault, for involving you. I bet you wish to God I hadn’t.’
As soon as she rang off, Rona called Max and told him the news.
‘So you’ve flushed out another murderer,’ he observed. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’
‘Max! That’s an awful thing to say! And I haven’t, anyway. They’re interviewing Robert Tarlton, who’s obviously not guilty.’
‘And exactly what basis have you for that opinion? His wife had been unfaithful for years, according to Gavin. Perhaps, when he found out she was leaving him, it was the last straw.’
Rona felt suddenly cold. That, no doubt, was the way the police were thinking. Were they right?
‘The reason I’m ringing,’ she went on after a minute, ‘is to ask you to keep quiet about Freya’s dreams.’
‘Dreams?’ he repeated blankly. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
Belatedly, she realized that although they had loomed large in her own thoughts, and Kate’s, she’d barely mentioned the dreams to Max, who appeared already to have forgotten them.
‘The girl who fainted. She – but if you don’t remember, fine. Just don’t mention her having nightmares.’
‘I’m hardly likely to, am I? Now look, Rona, I want you to keep away from that family. The police will have to release Tarlton, on bail if nothing else, and if he thinks you’re poking your nose in, he might well decide to stop you.’
‘All right,’ she said meekly. It was no use arguing with him, and she had, after all, done what had been asked of her: she’d found the cause of Freya’s dreams.
‘I have to go now, love. I’ll phone later, as usual.’
Magda, to whom Rona had spoken about the Tarltons more recently and in considerably more detail, was consequently more shocked by her call.
‘How awful for you!’ she exclaimed. ‘And that poor girl! Did she actually see her mother being killed?’
‘It seems likely,’ Rona said. ‘But the point is the dreams, Maggie. If the killer—’
‘My God, of course! She could be in real danger.’
‘So the reason I’m ringing, apart from giving you advance notice of what’s happened, is to ask you not to mention the dreams to anyone.’
‘Of course I won’t.’
‘Did you tell Gavin about them?’
‘I mentioned the gist of it, after you’d gone, but I’m not sure he was paying much attention. He was watching a sports programme.’
‘Well, could you impress on him not to say anything, either? It really could be vital.’
‘Don’t worry about Gavin; I’ll see he keeps quiet.’
Which left only Nanny. Rona lifted the phone again, then thoughtfully replaced it. For Violet Gray, the news would have considerable personal impact, and she was an old lady. There was no way Rona could break it to her over the phone, and the family would be too distraught to think of contacting her. There was no help for it; she’d have to go back to Stapleton House, and this evening, at that – hopefully before word of the day’s discovery reached the residents.
She stood up. It was now almost six o’clock, and Chesham was a forty-minute drive away. She could only hope she’d make it in time. At worst, she could fill in details the media wouldn’t have.
It seemed a longer than usual drive in the dark, and Rona was grateful for Gus’s comforting bulk on the back seat. Out in the country, the roads were rimed with frost, and wreaths of mist shrouded the tops of the trees. It was a relief to see the lights of Chesham. Five minutes later, she was at the reception desk, asking for Miss Gray.
The woman who had answered the bell – Sylvia Marsh, according to her badge – looked at her reprovingly. ‘We do ask visitors to try to avoid meal times,’ she said.
‘I’m so sorry; I realize it’s inconvenient, but I have some news that I know Miss Gray will want to hear as soon as possible.’
The woman frowned. ‘Is it likely to upset her?’
‘It might well,’ Rona admitted. ‘But there’s no way she can be spared from it.’
‘I ask, because she’s been feeling tired today, and in fact spent it in bed. Oh, she’s not ill,’ she added, seeing Rona’s concern. ‘She does have rest days from time to time, and spends them reading or knitting or listening to the radio.’
Rona could only hope she’d not listened to the radio this evening. She was led down the familiar corridor, and her guide paused to say, ‘If she becomes distressed, you will ring the bell, won’t you? It’s hanging over her bed.’
They reached the door just as a woman came out bearing Miss Gray’s supper tray. She smiled and stood aside for Rona to enter, and Sylvia Marsh, with a last worried glance towards the bed, nodded and turned away.
Miss Gray was propped up against a mound of pillows, a pale blue bed jacket fastened at her throat. A book, presumably discarded at the arrival of her meal, lay face down on the coverlet. It was a Mills & Boon romance.
The old lady was looking at her in surprise. ‘I’m not due for my medication, dear,’ she said. ‘I’ve only just finished supper.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m Rona Parish, Miss Gray. Do you remember, I came to see you last week, about Freya Tarlton?’
‘Of course I remember,’ the old lady said crossly. ‘You were in the shadows, that’s all; I couldn’t see your face. What is it this time?’
She gestured at the chair beside the bed, and Rona obediently sat down.
‘There have been some developments,’ she began cautiously, and saw the veined hands tighten.
‘Concerning Freya?’
‘Indirectly. Miss Gray, there’s no easy way to say this. Some – remains have been found. In the well in the woods.’
‘Remains?’ Miss Gray repeated sharply. ‘A body, you mean?’
‘Yes. The police believe it’s that of Velma Tarlton.’
The old lady stared at her, her mouth working. ‘Mrs Robert?’
‘Yes.’ Rona paused, and added, ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘So she didn’t go off after all?’
‘No, though I think she intended to. A – suitcase was also found.’
‘And there I was, slating the poor lady for abandoning her family, and all the while …’
‘I think she meant to go,’ Rona repeated, hoping to lessen her guilt.
‘Then who stopped her? That’s the question, isn’t it?’
Rona nodded.
‘How’s Mr Robert taking this?’
Rona fell back on a cliché. ‘He’s been – helping the police with their enquiries.’
Miss Gray was not deceived. ‘They never think he did it?’ Her voice rose indignantly. ‘Stuff and nonsense! He wouldn’t have harmed a hair of her head.’
‘It seems likely whoever she was going away with changed his mind,’ Rona said quickly.
‘You can change your mind without killing someone.’ Then, as Rona had fearfully known they must, her thoughts turned to her charge.
The old eyes suddenly dilated with horror. ‘In the woods, you said. You think Freya saw something? While she was lost? Oh, my dear Lord!’
Rona leaned forward quickly and passed her a glass of water, thankful to see the emergency bell hanging close at hand.
‘It’s very important,’ she went on, speaking more slowly and clearly, ‘that no one knows she’s been suffering these nightmares.’
Again, her tact was wasted. ‘Because if the murderer hears of them, he’ll think she saw him.’
‘Yes,’ Rona confirmed reluctantly.
‘My poor lamb! What she’s been going through all these years, and all because I was wicked enough to fall asleep when I should have been watching her!’ She took another sip of water, then asked more calmly, ‘When did all this come to light?’
‘Only this morning. I wanted to tell you myself, before you heard about it.’
‘That was good of you.’ Her eyes strayed to the television set, but to Rona’s relief, she didn’t suggest switching it on. ‘Poor Mr Robert,
’ she added softly. ‘It will bring it all back, like losing her a second time.’
She, at least, entertained no doubt that he was innocent. But then, as his childhood nanny, she wouldn’t. Other people might be less charitable. Perhaps it was the last straw, Max had said.
‘What will happen now?’ Miss Gray asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Rona answered honestly. ‘The events of that day will have to be gone over again, and everyone’s movements checked.’
‘And this time, it will come out that I failed in my duty. I can’t keep quiet, now murder’s involved.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Rona said slowly. ‘If Freya’s nightmares are not to be made public, I think you’ll have to.’
‘You told the family, I presume?’
‘Yes; if you remember, you gave me your permission.’
Miss Gray sighed with relief, and leaned back against her pillows. ‘Then I needn’t worry; they can decide whether or not the police should be informed.’
Her initial agitation had subsided, Rona was glad to see. ‘I’m so sorry to have had to bring you this news.’
The old lady shook her head resignedly. ‘Not everyone would have troubled to come all this way to tell me. I’m very grateful.’
‘I’m sure the family will be in touch soon.’
‘They’ve enough to think about at the moment,’ said Violet Gray, ‘but they’ll contact me over Christmas. I used to spend it with them, but I’ve cried off the last two years. They always go to the Clarendon, and though it’s very grand and that, not to mention very generous of them, I now find the noise and bustle too tiring. So they come here instead, on Boxing Day, and we have a quiet drink together.’
There seemed little more to say, and Rona rose to her feet. ‘Would you like me to ask someone to sit with you for a while?’
‘No, my dear, I shall be all right. I need a little time to go over things, then maybe I’ll listen to the news later. At least it won’t come as a shock now.’
It did, however, come as a shock to other people, among them Sophie Fairfax. She stared with horror at the pictures on the screen, of yellow police tape sealing off the entrance to Brindley Woods, and the reporter talking excitedly of a skeleton in the well. ‘Identity has not been confirmed,’ he was saying, ‘but the discovery of a suitcase with the body points to it being that of Velma Tarlton, of the well-known jewellery family, who disappeared twenty-five years ago.’
‘She didn’t disappear,’ Sophie contradicted forcefully. ‘She ran off with her lover.’
‘It seems not,’ Chris said mildly.
‘God, it will tear them apart, if it really is Velma. Oddly enough, I was talking about her with Freya, only the other day.’
She broke off and turned to her husband, her eyes widening. ‘Oh, dear God, Chris! Freya’s been having nightmares! Do you think she could be telepathic?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Chris said roundly.
‘But why, after all these years, should they suddenly look in the well?’
He remained silent, fighting the jealousy that engulfed him at any mention of the Tarltons. It was intensified a minute later, when Sophie went on, ‘I must write to Lewis – tell him we’re thinking of him. And Robert, of course. Oh, poor Robert! He kept hoping she’d come back.’
Chris nodded at the screen. ‘Ten to one he’s “the man” the police are interviewing at the moment.’
‘But that’s ridiculous! They can’t think he had anything to do with it!’
‘The husband’s always the prime suspect, and if she’d been having a string of affairs, he might just have snapped.’
‘Not Robert,’ Sophie said decisively. ‘You don’t know him like I do.’
‘I’m related to him, damn it!’ Chris retorted, stung. ‘I’ve known him all my life.’
‘But not well! How often do you see him? Family weddings and funerals, and at Christmas, when they all lunch in the restaurant? Chris, he was my father-in-law for three years!’
‘You don’t have to remind me of that.’ His voice was stiff and she stared at him for a minute before understanding came. She perched on the arm of his chair, and pulled his resisting body towards her.
‘You silly old duffer,’ she said fondly. ‘You know I’ve no feelings left for Lewis; they were long gone before we even divorced. But that doesn’t stop me being sorry for him, when he’s just found out his mother was murdered, and his father’s being interviewed by the police. And I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but I’m still very fond of Robert and Freya, both of whom must be going through hell at the moment. OK?’
She turned his head to face her, and as she bent to kiss him, he pulled her down into his arms.
‘I wish I didn’t love you quite so much,’ he said.
As arranged, Robert asked the police car to drop him off at Brindley Lodge. They were all waiting for him – Kate and Lewis, Bruce and Jan, Nicholas and Susie and poor little Freya. His heart contracted when he saw her, and he held out a hand. She ran over and hugged him fiercely.
‘Daddy, I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘This is all my fault.’
‘Nonsense, my darling. At last, after all these years, things are coming to a head. We can be thankful for that.’
Lewis passed his father a glass of whisky. ‘Did they actually arrest you, Dad?’
‘No, no, nothing so dramatic. They stressed all along that it was a voluntary interview, I was not under arrest, and free to leave at any time. They did, however, tape the whole thing, which was a bit unnerving.’
‘You had Paul Singleton with you?’
‘Yes, though as it turned out, only for moral support. Thankfully, he didn’t have to do anything.’
‘So what actually happened?’
They all seated themselves round the room, their eyes anxiously on him, and Robert took a sip of whisky.
‘Well, they went over the day Velma left in detail. Where I’d been, if I’d left the shop during working hours, what time I got home, when I realized she’d gone.’
‘And had you left the shop?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Fortunately, no. It was your father who’d skived off, to visit the dentist. Remember, Bruce?’ His mouth twisted. ‘They were very interested in the note, particularly since the only people I showed it to were Bruce and Jan. They asked, very circuitously, whether you were familiar with Velma’s handwriting – the inference being that I could have written the thing myself.’
‘But why would you—?’ Kate began, and broke off, as she suddenly saw why.
‘Exactly,’ Robert said. ‘I wouldn’t have done so unless I’d already killed her.’
The stark words rang round the room. A log shifted in the fire, and they all jumped. After a minute, Robert continued. ‘They also asked a lot of questions about her previous “visits to friends”, and whether I knew whom she’d been with.’
‘You did, in some cases,’ Bruce put in.
‘But she’d moved on since then. There was no point in naming the men she’d known previously, and ruining their marriages for them.’
‘Unless an old affair was rekindled?’ Nicholas suggested.
Robert wiped a hand over his face. ‘God, I hate discussing her like this.’
‘But you have to,’ Jan said firmly, ‘if it’s a case of saving your own skin.’
‘Had you any idea she was thinking of leaving you?’ Susie asked, leaning forward with her glass between her hands.
‘None at all. She was given to spells of restlessness, during which she often looked elsewhere, and this time didn’t seem any different. The affairs only lasted a week or two, and I was prepared to go on turning a blind eye. Fool that I was,’ he added bitterly. ‘If I’d shown more spirit, she might have stayed with me.’
‘She did love you, you know, in her way,’ Jan said awkwardly.
Robert went on as though she’d not spoken. ‘The point was, she’d asked me not to look for her, so I didn’t. In any event, I was too proud to run after her and be
g her to come home; my main concern was Freya. She wouldn’t talk or eat properly for weeks on end, and we couldn’t fathom out what was wrong with her. As you know, the specialists we took her to said it was a result of her mother’s desertion – which struck me even then as an easy option. But – God – we never suspected the truth.’
He emptied his glass, and Lewis got up and refilled it.
‘Consequently,’ Robert continued, ‘nothing was gone into at the time – whether Velma had received or made any significant phone calls, if she’d been seen with anyone.’
He paused, and added painfully, ‘In the early days, we used to go into the woods to pick bluebells.’
‘My friends and I often played there,’ Lewis said, ‘but we certainly never saw her.’
‘She couldn’t have walked boldly down the garden, carrying a suitcase,’ Kate said suddenly. ‘Freya was playing out there, and Nanny was supposed to be watching her. Come to that, if they were in the habit of meeting there, it would always have been too risky to go down the garden.’
‘She must have used the alley,’ Susie said. ‘It leads to Woodlands Road, doesn’t it, where there’s public access to the woods.’
‘Well, it’s too late to look for evidence now,’ Bruce said briskly. ‘So why the boys in blue are still camped out there beats me.’ He turned to his brother. ‘Robert, you mustn’t stay in the flat while all this is going on, and I’m not sure that here would be a good alternative, with the ongoing police activity. Jan and I discussed this, and we’d be very glad if you’d come to us till it all blows over. It’s the most sensible solution all round, and we can drive to and from the shop together.’
Robert stared into his glass. ‘I’m grateful,’ he said. ‘I admit I don’t relish my own company at the moment.’ He looked up, his eyes going from one of them to another. ‘We’ve spent all this time cold-bloodedly discussing what could have happened and who might have killed her, but we’ve been forgetting the tragedy behind it all. She was a young and beautiful woman – only thirty-four, for God’s sake – and however badly she behaved, she didn’t deserve what happened to her.’
‘And nor did you,’ Jan said quietly, putting her hand over his. ‘Now, I think it’s time we all went home and tried to get some sleep. Lord knows, it’s been a long and traumatic day, and tomorrow’s not likely to be much better. We’ll stop at the flat, Robert, for you to collect some things.’
A Family Concern Page 19
