London Rain

by Nicola Upson

  ‘Did he know what you’d done?’

  ‘Yes, I told him. I wasn’t thinking at the time, and I couldn’t have lied even if I’d wanted to. He told me to go back into the house and make sure that no one else came outside while he got Olivia’s body out and tried to resuscitate her. It was no good, though – I could see it in his face as soon as he came back in. He told everyone that there’d been an accident and asked them to leave, although they didn’t need much encouragement. He was extraordinary, but then he was always good at saving his own skin and he simply applied those principles to mine.’

  ‘That’s why you left the party in such a hurry.’

  She nodded. ‘Anthony didn’t trust me not to talk, so he got Billy to take me away. After what I’d seen, I thought he might take Olivia’s side, but he didn’t. He was so kind and so attentive. It’s ironic, but I think it brought us closer together for a while.’

  It wasn’t the most convincing solution to marital unhappiness that Josephine had ever heard, and she couldn’t help but question some of the assumptions that Vivienne seemed to have made. ‘Didn’t you want to make sure of what you’d seen?’ she asked. ‘If everyone was in such a state, how could you be sure that it wasn’t just a moment of madness on their part, a mistake that they’d regret in the morning?’

  ‘It wasn’t a mistake. I saw how they looked at each other.’

  ‘But you were upset. Did you ask ever ask Anthony what had gone on between them?’

  She shook her head. ‘Never. I didn’t want to know. We barely spoke of Olivia again.’

  ‘Where did you go when you left the party?’ Josephine asked, changing the subject to something that Vivienne wouldn’t need to feel so defensive about.

  ‘Billy took me back to Anthony’s parents at first, just until the initial crisis was over. Anthony stayed with Olivia’s body and handled all the formalities with the police, but there wasn’t much of an investigation. One of the policemen was tenacious, but someone higher up didn’t want any close investigation of the Golden Hat – it was all far too close to home – so he smoothed things over and transferred that policeman to other duties. I was never even questioned.’ How history repeated itself, Josephine thought. ‘The verdict was death by misadventure, and the fire in the press soon died down.’

  ‘What happened to the house?’

  ‘We sold it not long after the funeral. Anthony took care of all that. It had quite a reputation by then, and we didn’t get much for it. The money went to pay off some of the debts that Olivia left behind.’

  ‘Were they bad?’

  ‘Horrendous. All the clubs had already gone except for the Golden Hat, and she was clinging on to that with white knuckles. There were people after her from all over the place, and that rather played into my hands. It made it easy for everyone to believe that she would choose oblivion rather than face her problems.’

  ‘Is that why you stayed with Anthony? Because he knew what you’d done? I’ve always wondered why you put up with the way he treated you.’

  ‘In the end, yes. At first I thought his affair with Olivia was a one-off – infatuation, perhaps, or a reaction to being tied down, all those excuses that you fool yourself with. But when I realised that it was always going to be that way, I knew I was trapped. That marriage – that stale, passionless marriage – was my punishment for what I did to Olivia. The only escape was death – his or mine, and I chose his.’

  ‘Would you have killed him if you hadn’t killed before, do you think?’

  The question seemed to stop her in her tracks. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t think I would. Once you’ve crossed that line, you never think of yourself in the same way again. Since that day, I’ve always known that I’m capable of taking the life of someone I love, and doing it for the second time is easier than doing it for the first.’ She took another cigarette and stood to stretch her legs. ‘I’m sorry, Josephine. I know you thought you were helping me but there’s nothing in any of that to save me. Will you tell Penrose?’

  ‘There’s something else we need to talk about first,’ Josephine said, wondering how long she could keep avoiding the question. ‘The police have found a car – Anthony’s car.’

  ‘He didn’t have a car. I’ve already told them that.’

  ‘Yes he did. He kept it at Billy Whiting’s house, and the keys were found in his drawer at Broadcasting House.’

  ‘The police showed them to me, but he . . .’

  Josephine put a hand on Vivienne’s shoulder and encouraged her to sit down again. ‘We haven’t got much time left today, so don’t argue with me. I want to help you, and the only reason I’m telling you this is because you need to know – not to trick you or to hurt you.’

  The fear returned to her eyes, worse even than before. ‘Why would that hurt me? It’s just a car.’

  ‘No it isn’t. There were things in it – a hairbrush, a woman’s scarf, a suitcase with a change of clothes. Men’s clothes, in Anthony’s size.’

  ‘Stop it. Please stop it.’

  Her voice was low and even, but Josephine knew that she was on the verge of hysteria. ‘There was a book on the back seat . . .’

  ‘I don’t want to know, Josephine.’

  ‘You have to know. It was a child’s book and it was in French. You told me once that Anthony spent time abroad. Was it in France?’

  ‘A child?’ She looked up in disbelief, begging Josephine to take the words back, and the pain in her eyes was unbearable. ‘That toy soldier in his desk . . . I thought they were being stupid when they asked me about it.’

  ‘I know it seemed strange, but now it looks like . . .’

  ‘I know what it looks like. But those women meant nothing, Josephine – nothing. Jesus Christ, that’s the only way I’ve coped with his infidelity for all these years. You can’t come in here now and destroy the one piece of sanity I’ve got left. Anthony had other women, but his life was with me. Leave me that, for God’s sake.’ She broke down in tears – raw, violent sobs that shook her body – and Josephine tried to comfort her but she was pushed away. ‘Get out!’ Vivienne screamed. ‘I don’t want to hear any more. Get out!’

  The warder was by her side instantly, and comfort was the last thing on her mind. She pulled Vivienne roughly back into her chair and held her there, pinning her arms tightly behind her back. ‘Are you all right, miss?’ she asked Josephine.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. Please don’t hurt her. It’s my fault – I’ve just given her some terrible news.’

  ‘Even so, I’m going to have to ask you to leave now while we quieten her down.’

  Josephine could only imagine what sort of methods were used in Holloway to ‘quieten someone down’, and she stood her ground. ‘Five minutes more,’ she begged, looking at Vivienne. ‘If you’re to stand any chance at all, you need my help. Do you really want to hang for Anthony’s death after what you’ve just heard?’ The words sobered Vivienne, and she shook her head. ‘I’ll take full responsibility,’ Josephine said to the warder. ‘If anything else happens, I’ll explain to Miss Size that you did all you could.’

  The woman looked doubtful, but nodded her agreement. ‘I’m not leaving the room again, though. You can have five minutes, but I’m staying here.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Josephine turned back to Vivienne, conscious now of having to choose her words more carefully. ‘Billy knew about the car,’ she said. ‘Could he have helped Anthony in other ways, do you think?’

  She waited, and when there was still no response, repeated the question, but Vivienne was no longer listening. She seemed distracted now, and Josephine wracked her brains for a way of getting through. ‘Tell me again what was in the car,’ Vivienne said before she had thought of anything, and Josephine repeated the list of items, adding the type of perfume and the name of the book. ‘And the car? What was it?’

  ‘A royal blue Bugatti.’ She stared at Vivienne, but her eyes were impossible to read. ‘You’ve thought of something, haven’t you
? Something suddenly makes sense to you. What is it?’

  ‘Will you do something for me?’ Vivienne asked, ignoring her questions. ‘I know I have no right to expect you to help me after what I’ve told you, but it’s the last thing I’ll ask of you, I promise.’

  ‘I’ll do it if I can.’

  ‘Go to Paradise House, then come back here and tell me what you’ve seen.’

  The thought of a trip to Paradise House had already crossed Josephine’s mind. She longed to see the place that she had heard so much about, particularly after the latest revelation. ‘All right, but what am I looking for?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that yet. I need to be sure first. Will you still go?’

  ‘Yes, as soon as I can.’

  ‘Thank you. I won’t forget this.’

  She clasped Josephine’s hand, but the warder separated them and led Josephine to the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, turning back.

  ‘All right. But promise me one more thing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Be sure to take someone with you.’

  Part Six

  The End of the Affair

  1

  Harrow Weald was about ten miles out of London, a straightforward drive of an hour or so through the city’s north-western suburbs. Josephine toyed with the idea of phoning ahead to make an appointment but decided against it, just in case Paradise House had already been sold; far better to turn up unannounced and at least get as far as the front door.

  ‘I still can’t believe I’ve let you talk me into doing this,’ Marta said, as they left the old brick houses and shady elms of Hampstead behind. ‘It wasn’t quite the sort of house hunting I had in mind.’

  ‘Think of it as a day out. The village is supposed to be very pretty.’

  ‘And I bet the murder site is absolutely lovely at this time of year.’ She pulled up at a set of traffic lights by the new Gaumont State Cinema and gave Josephine a weary smile. ‘Seriously, though, you should have spoken to Archie first. He’ll be furious when he finds out what we’ve done.’

  ‘It’s not as if I haven’t tried,’ Josephine said, a little too defensively because she knew that Marta was right. ‘He was out last night and I left a message with Ronnie, but he never responded. I’ll try him again as soon as we get back. By then, we might have a better idea of what Vivienne thinks she knows.’

  ‘All right,’ Marta said reluctantly, ‘but I’m not letting you do anything ridiculous. The more I hear about this woman the less I trust her. That business about taking someone with you and not even telling you what you’re looking for – she could be deliberately setting a trap for you. You’ve already unearthed one truth she’d rather have kept hidden .’

  ‘What, you think she’s manipulating me from the confines of Holloway’s hospital wing?’ Josephine looked at Marta in surprise. ‘It’s not like you to be quite so Edgar Wallace about something – that’s far more my style.’

  ‘But she is manipulating you – and you know she is.’ A horn sounded behind, alerting them to the green light, and Marta turned right onto the main road. ‘The slightest sign of anything not quite right about that house and we don’t go in – agreed?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ In actual fact, Josephine was more than happy to meet Marta’s conditions: she had no real wish to delve much deeper into Vivienne Beresford’s soul. The day before had had a profound effect on her, and she had walked away from Holloway feeling dirty, confused, and a little foolish, knowing in her heart that she was being used. Marta’s return from Cambridge could not have been more welcome, and she brought with her a much-needed reminder of light and normality in a world which had, for Josephine, become twisted and coloured by the events of the last week. She had allowed her own life to become far too entwined with someone else’s darkness, but one night with Marta had helped her to regain the perspective she had lost. Curiosity wouldn’t let her walk away without completing this final task, but after that she was determined to let justice take its course. ‘It’s funny, you know – I thought I was doing this for Vivienne, but I realised after we talked that I’m actually doing it for Millicent Gray. I feel I owe it to her. Does that sound ridiculous?’

  ‘No, not at all. You found her body, for God’s sake, and you’re still in shock.’ The high-class shops of Cricklewood Broadway gave way to a line of dreary factories, disfiguring the landscape on either side of the Edgware Road, and Josephine marvelled at how rapidly the city had spread in this direction; only a few years ago, they would have been in open countryside by now, with scarcely a house to be seen. ‘Do you still believe that Vivienne’s innocent – of that, at least?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Not because she wasn’t capable of it – I’m beginning to think she’s capable of pretty much anything – but because she didn’t feel the need to. Millicent simply wasn’t important – it was Anthony she hated.’

  ‘That logic didn’t work with her sister, though, did it? Vivienne killed her, not Anthony.’

  ‘I rather got the impression that was the result of years of resentment.’ She recalled with a shiver how unnerved she had been by the quiet, calm way in which Vivienne had talked about the murder. ‘God, she frightened me, Marta. I can sympathise with her position – of course I can. It must have been terrible to be trapped in that marriage for all those years, having to put up with every new humiliation that Beresford chose to inflict on her, and I can imagine what the shock must have done to her when she found out that both he and Olivia had betrayed her. But other than the immediate horror of what she’d done and the fear of getting caught, there’s no regret – that’s what I can’t come to terms with. She still thinks that what she did was justified. Gerard Leaman said she had a streak of ice running through her, and I’m beginning to think that he was right. It’s a bit like having sympathy for the Devil.’

  ‘Why do you sound so surprised?’ Marta asked. ‘Look at what she did on coronation day – that must have taken nerves of steel. Is it the next left?’

  Josephine unfolded the map and looked at the route they had planned. ‘No, the one after that. London Road.’ She sighed, and tried to answer the more difficult question. ‘I don’t know why I’m surprised. I suppose it’s because I thought I liked her, and I don’t want to have been so wrong.’

  ‘You’re not wrong, you’ve just seen another side to her. You met the Vivienne Beresford who belongs at the BBC, who thrives in a world you’re familiar with, who gets on with people you admire – people like Julian Terry. In Holloway, you saw the woman who’s been raised in her sister’s image, the woman with a heart of stone. I know she made such a big thing about getting away from the club scene, but she’s probably very grateful for that background now – it’ll serve her much better in prison that the respectable life she left it for.’ She slowed the car according to Josephine’s instructions, and turned into London Road. ‘Vivienne Beresford is a chameleon, like we all are.’

  Marta looked pointedly at her, and Josephine chose to ignore the implication. ‘As colour-changes go, though, hers are rather extreme,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I agree with you there. Isn’t it funny when you meet people out of context? I bumped into Bridget while I was away, and believe me – she was very different.’

  ‘You haven’t said much about Cambridge since you got back.’

  ‘No, I know.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve been a bit preoccupied with running errands for a double murderer.’

  ‘So how was it?’

  ‘It was strangely unsettling and comfortingly familiar, all at the same time. I still can’t decide how I feel about it.’

  ‘There’s no hurry, though, is there?’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose there is.’

  ‘It’s an important decision, Marta – take your time. Go and stay at the cottage if you feel like it – it might help to be somewhere more neutral while you’re thinking about it. And Cambridge isn’t far from there – we could even go together if you’d like some company next time.’
<
br />   ‘Yes, I would.’

  ‘Good,’ Josephine said, and added out of devilment: ‘In the meantime, you might fall in love with the house we’re about to see.’

  ‘If I do, we’re having the pool filled in. Do you have any idea what Vivienne expects us to find when we get there?’

  ‘Proof of Anthony’s other life, I think. I’ve been mulling it over, and my bet would be that he bought the house when Olivia died. I think he lived there with a woman he met in France, and I think they have a child.’ They were getting close now, and Josephine consulted the map again. ‘We’re a couple of miles away. Old Redding is just through Stanmore and before Harrow Weald Common. I hadn’t realised that it was quite so close to Grim’s Dyke.’

  ‘Sounds lovely,’ muttered Marta. ‘Should that mean something to me?’

  ‘It was W. S. Gilbert’s house. He drowned in the lake there.’

  ‘It must be something they put in the water round here. I don’t suppose Vivienne Beresford was spotted running from the scene, was she?’

  Josephine laughed, relieved at last to be able to distance herself from the subject. ‘No. Gilbert’s death was quite tragic, actually. He’d invited two girls to swim in the lake and one of them got into trouble, so he dived in to save her and had a heart attack. Everyone was so upset when it happened. I’m surprised you don’t remember it. It was in the news again recently when his wife died.’

  ‘I’d never wish any harm on the man personally, but I can’t help feeling that the girl who got into trouble did us all a great service. There’s enough light opera in the world to last me a lifetime.’ Before Josephine could argue, they passed the village sign for Old Redding. As she had predicted, it was quiet and picturesque, an enticing combination of gentle, rolling meadows and lush green woodland. ‘Is there anything more specific to help us find the house?’ Marta asked.