Written in Red

by Annie Dalton

  ‘Lovely Liam’s still not talking?’ Anna said sympathetically.

  Tansy shook her head forlornly. ‘To be fair, I wouldn’t talk to me if I was him either.’ Her forehead puckered and she began to look vaguely around the room. ‘I think I can hear your phone.’

  ‘It’s in the kitchen.’ Anna ran downstairs, praying, Let it be Tim, let it be Tim, then had to go hunting frantically for her phone. She found it in the wrong pocket in her bag, micro-seconds before it stopped ringing. Tim’s name had come up on her screen. ‘Hello,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Hi, I’ve found your nun!’ Tim sounded pleased with himself.

  ‘You’ve found her already?’

  ‘You said it was urgent,’ he said. ‘So I pulled out all the stops.’

  ‘Tim, thanks so much. Is she very far away?’

  ‘No, just a few miles outside Oxford.’

  Tim had located Catherine at a convent not far from Woodstock, called the Little Sisters of Mercy. ‘I thought I’d come and pick you up in ten minutes or so, if that’s OK?’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Anna told him.

  She ran to her room to change out of her jeans and generally tidy herself up then ran back to Tansy to explain.

  ‘You are going detecting in a convent without me, one of the original dog-walking detectives?’ Tansy’s tone made it clear she wasn’t entirely joking.

  ‘I am on this occasion,’ Anna said apologetically. She saw a car pull up outside. ‘Tim’s here, I’ve got to go!’

  ‘I’ll just walk the dogs then, shall I?’ Tansy called after her. ‘It’s not like I have a life or a boyfriend or anything!’

  ‘Just like old times,’ Tim said as Anna clicked her safety belt into place. He seemed nervous now they were actually together in the car.

  ‘Old times?’ Anna said.

  ‘How can you not remember us sneaking up your parents’ loft ladder to investigate the Mysterious Noises from the Attic!’

  ‘Oh, my God, yes! And it turned out to be some poor bird that had got trapped under the eaves!’

  ‘You say “poor bird”, now. At the time, you totally freaked out! There you were in your ninja outfit, brandishing your Dad’s torch, ready to confront who knows what – and suddenly you were shrieking like a girl!’

  ‘Yes, because when birds get scared they fly around erratically and poo everywhere!’ she said, laughing. ‘I didn’t want a bird pooing in my hair! Besides, in case it’s escaped your notice, I am a girl. What was your excuse for screaming your head off and flapping your hands?’

  She saw some of the tension leave Tim’s face. He gave her an openly affectionate grin. ‘It’s good to see you, Anna.’

  ‘Ditto!’ she said smiling. ‘Very good, actually.’

  ‘Anyway, unlike our noises in the attic mystery, the Fates seem to be on our side with this one. Though Sister Mary Catherine sleeps in the Mother House or whatever they call it, she works shifts in the adjoining hospice. She’ll be there this afternoon – so that’s where we’re going.’

  ‘A hospice?’ Anna felt a flicker of dread. Wasn’t a hospice somewhere people went to die? ‘You can’t just walk in there though, surely? You have to have a valid reason?’

  ‘It’s all under control,’ Tim reassured her. ‘I also rang the hospice and I’ve given us a cover story. I told them we’re looking for somewhere to provide respite care for our sick grandfather. He’s being cared for at home but sometimes his relatives need a break.’

  ‘So who did you say we were? Husband and wife?’

  Tim looked startled. ‘No! I told them we were brother and sister obviously!’

  His ill-concealed dismay amused Anna, because she understood exactly how he felt. She had always seen Tim as the more congenial and less annoying brother who happened to go home to a different house. ‘Why are we making arrangements for our grandfather though?’ she asked. ‘Where are our parents?’

  ‘Oh, bugger! Good question!’ Tim thought for a moment. ‘How about teaching in Dubai? Two-year contract? Uncaring bastards!’ he added with a grin.

  ‘Makes you wonder really, how you and I turned out so nice,’ Anna said.

  Up ahead the lights turned red and Tim began to slow. ‘On the phone, you said you thought Catherine might be in danger. Do you think you could fill me in on the backstory? I’m assuming there has to be quite a meaty backstory?’

  ‘It’s an extremely complicated one,’ she said. ‘It starts back in the mid-nineteen sixties.’

  ‘It’s OK. We have time,’ he said.

  Tim was a good listener, stopping her now and then to make sure he’d grasped the essentials. ‘So the anonymous letters and diaries were in fact quite separate from these attacks?’ he said. ‘Just a good old-fashioned red herring?’

  ‘As it turns out,’ Anna said.

  ‘But you believe your friend Isadora was attacked by the same person who murdered James Lowell?’

  ‘Not just me,’ she said. ‘The police are starting to think the same way. At least that’s the impression I got from a friend in the police. I don’t know for sure, as Liam still hasn’t got back to me.’

  Tim gave her an amused look. ‘But you didn’t think you should just wait for the cops to get up to speed?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Once a ninja always a ninja,’ he said with a grin.

  The convent was set behind high brick walls clearly visible from the road. But the actual turn-off was so well hidden that Tim had to swerve off at the last minute, causing the driver behind them to sound his horn. Through the trees, Anna caught glimpses of mellow red-brick buildings. She had imagined that the hospice would be situated in an extension of the convent, but Tim swung his car between a pair of gates and drove up to the first of several extremely stylish single-storey buildings, obviously purpose-built. A sign outside read Mercy Hospice.

  ‘If I look like I’m about to start singing “Climb Every Mountain”, please feel free to punch me,’ Tim said, as he got out of the car and Anna surprised herself with a giggle.

  They went inside and reported to the softly spoken nun at the desk. She picked up a phone and told someone of their arrival. ‘Sister Mary Frances will be here in a few moments to take you around,’ she told them.

  While they waited, Anna and Tim stood looking out into a small sheltered garden. Anna could see pretty painted birdhouses and a trellis with winter flowering jasmine. If you had to go somewhere to die, Anna thought, Mercy Hospice was a good place.

  Sister Mary Frances, a small white-haired nun who looked to be somewhere in her seventies, arrived to show them around. She wore the same neutral Marks and Spencer style of clothes as Sister Mary Catherine and the nun at the desk. The only outward sign of her spiritual vocation was the simple wooden crucifix on a chain around her neck. ‘Welcome to our beautiful new hospice,’ she said warmly. ‘It’s only eighteen months old and we are all extremely proud of it. We put in a bid for funding and then all the sisters prayed until their eyes practically popped out – and, as you see, our prayers were answered!’ She explained that local supporters had worked additional miracles to raise the remaining revenue necessary to realize the sisters’ vision.

  ‘Now let me show you the kind of bedroom your grandfather could expect to stay in if he comes here for respite care,’ Sister Mary Frances said, bustling ahead and opening a door. ‘We had one dear lady here say it was like a boutique hotel! I don’t know what in the world one of those is, but I assume it was meant as a compliment!’

  They looked around the pleasant room with its windows that opened out on to trees and water. The nun showed them the state-of-the-art bathroom facilities and Tim solemnly experimented with the taps. They followed her to the hospice kitchen where two cheerful nuns were preparing vegetable soups and juices. ‘We do our best to use locally sourced ingredients,’ Sister Mary Frances explained. ‘Fresh, well-cooked food can make a big difference to a patient’s well-being.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘But we also have
to be realists. When your time is running out, it’s not so much about vitamins, but more about what tickles your fancy.’ She gave them a mischievous smile, ‘What I’m trying to say is, if your grandfather wants one of Mr Kipling’s cakes, he can have one!’

  Anna had almost started to believe in her and Tim’s fictional sick grandfather, when Tim said, smiling, ‘Thank you so much for showing us around. You’ve certainly set my mind at rest. How about you, Anna?’

  ‘Oh, I feel just the same,’ Anna said. ‘Now we just need to talk to Granny.’

  ‘Oh, you should have brought her with you!’ exclaimed the nun.

  ‘I know and I wish we had,’ Tim said. ‘But we’ll tell her everything you’ve told us. By the way,’ he added, ‘is Sister Mary Catherine still here? She was so wonderful to our aunt during her last weeks.’

  ‘Oh, so you have been here before then?’ Sister Mary Frances looked puzzled.

  ‘Not in this building,’ Anna said quickly. ‘Our aunt was in the old hospice. And Sister Mary Catherine took such wonderful care of her.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure she’d love to see you,’ Sister Mary Frances said. ‘At the moment she’s in the lounge, trying to fix the DVD player. She’s our go-to girl for all things technical!’ She gave her warm laugh. ‘She’s just through here.’

  The lounge turned out to be a communal hub for patients and relatives. There looked to be seven or eight people standing around the TV set, arguing about which film they were going to watch if the sister ever managed to fix the player. As they walked in, a woman whose advanced illness had turned her papery yellow, was saying, ‘Don’t put the poor sister under pressure!’

  ‘I’m not putting her under pressure,’ objected a teenage girl with a transparent nasal tube. ‘I just asked if I could have a try!’

  ‘Hush, all of you rabble!’ Sister Mary Frances said cheerfully. ‘I’ve brought some visitors for you, Sister. God bless you both,’ she told Anna and Tim, ‘and we will look forward to hearing from you about your dear grandfather very soon.’ She whisked out of the room.

  Anna saw the exact moment that Catherine recognized her. A strange expression came into the nun’s eyes, almost of relief. ‘Could we have a word in private?’ Anna asked her.

  She half expected Catherine to invent some excuse, but she only said in a neutral voice, ‘It’ll probably be a bit quieter in the corridor.’

  They followed her to an alcove that looked out on to another small enclosed garden. This one had a bench and a stone statue of a woman that Anna assumed to be the Virgin Mary.

  ‘You’re Isadora’s friend,’ Catherine said. ‘You were at James Lowell’s wake.’

  ‘Yes, I’m Anna. This is my friend Tim.’ Anna took a breath and cut straight to the chase. ‘Have the police been in touch?’

  Catherine shook her head, looking mildly perplexed. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘You don’t know what’s been happening, then?’ Anna took another sharper breath. ‘This is probably going to sound crazy, but I think you could be in danger.’

  A woman emerged out of a door, obviously in tears. A man, possibly her husband, immediately followed her out. ‘I just can’t bear to see her so frail,’ the woman wept. ‘I can’t bear that we’re going to lose her for ever.’

  Not wanting to eavesdrop, they quickly moved on down the corridor stopping outside the pristine little kitchen that Sister Mary Frances had told them was for the use of relatives. ‘Is that why you came?’ Catherine said. ‘Because you think I’m in danger?’ Her voice had an edge of surprise, almost disappointment, as if she’d imagined they’d come for some entirely different reason.

  ‘Someone attacked Isadora on Christmas Day,’ Anna said.

  Seeing Catherine’s eyes widen, Anna said quickly. ‘She’s recovering now. But she’ll have to be in hospital for a few days. Her consultant was worried about her heart.’

  ‘And now you think someone might try to hurt me – here in the hospice?’ Catherine sounded disbelieving. ‘Who’d want to harm me?’

  ‘Someone who knows something about the Oxford Six,’ Anna said bluntly and had the secret satisfaction of seeing Catherine flinch. ‘The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what they know. It’s all such a tangle of secrets and lies. But someone somewhere still remembers you all, and whoever they are, they’ve already attacked at least twice.’

  ‘You think this was the same person who killed James?’ Catherine rubbed absently at her arms as if she felt cold. ‘Secrets and lies,’ she repeated. For the first time, she properly met Anna’s eyes. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said abruptly. ‘There have been too many.’

  Anna said, ‘You see, I can’t figure out if it’s to do with James and what happened to Hetty’s baby—’

  ‘Hetty’s baby?’ Catherine interrupted, astonished. ‘Hetty didn’t have a baby!’

  ‘She had a daughter at the end of her second year,’ Anna told her. ‘She went to Switzerland, gave birth in the summer holidays, then came back to Oxford and carried on as normal, except nothing was ever normal again for any of you after that, was it?’

  Catherine shook her head. ‘I didn’t know.’ Her eyes were suddenly bright with tears. ‘I really wish I had. It explains so much about Hetty that I never understood at the time.’

  A woman walked past them into the kitchen. She took a plastic container from the refrigerator, placed it in the microwave and began pressing buttons. Then she went to the sink and very noisily filled a kettle.

  A small girl dressed like a Disney princess came running down the corridor holding a helium balloon on a silver string. She disappeared into one of the rooms, shouting, ‘I’m back, you can all sing it now!’ and Anna heard enthusiastic voices start to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.

  ‘That’s Zoe’s little sister,’ Catherine said. ‘It’s Zoe’s eighth birthday today.’ She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘We’re not having much luck with our quiet talk, are we?’

  ‘Why did you lie about seeing Tallis at the wake?’ The words were out of Anna’s mouth before she’d thought. ‘Both Robert and Isadora saw him. You fobbed Isadora off and I want to know why.’

  Again that look of relief came into Catherine’s eyes. ‘I always knew someone would come and ask me about him one day. When you walked in just now I thought that’s why you’d come.’

  Anna felt adrenalin flash through her. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  A sudden steely resolve came into Catherine’s eyes. She set off along the corridor at a fast clip, not checking to see if they were following. Tim shot a startled glance at Anna. They caught up with Catherine just as she stopped outside a door. She knocked softly, then pushed the door open so that Anna could see inside.

  The room was an almost exact replica of the one they’d viewed with Sister Mary Frances. An oxygen cylinder stood behind the bed, trailing wires. On the bed was a pair of black leather gloves and a familiar black fedora.

  Beside the bed, looking back at Anna, unsurprised, was an elegant old man in a wheelchair.

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘Visitors, what a pleasant surprise! Please do come in.’

  Tallis could have had no idea who Anna was or why she was here, yet he’d instantly taken command, the gracious host.

  He was quicker-witted than Anna. Her dismay at finding Isadora’s former handler here in the hospice threw her off balance, making her lose all her social graces. She only knew that she felt an instant visceral dislike for this man. If Tim hadn’t been standing just behind her, she might have taken a step backwards.

  ‘Kitty will find us an extra chair, won’t you?’ Tallis added without looking at Catherine.

  ‘I’ll get a chair,’ Tim said at once.

  ‘The room next door is empty,’ Catherine said. ‘You can borrow one from there.’

  ‘Maybe you could make us some tea then, Kitty?’ Tallis said.

  Kitty. The condescending pet-name told Anna everything about his relationship with Catherine Hetherington. Here was the critical missing piec
e of the puzzle, a part that Isadora had never suspected.

  ‘Thanks, but we didn’t come for tea,’ Anna said bluntly. She didn’t care if she was being rude.

  ‘It’s fine, honestly.’ Catherine shot her an almost pleading look. ‘I’m sure we could all do with a cup.’

  Tim returned with the chair. Catherine moved towards the door, presumably to make their tea, but at the last minute she turned to Tallis and words burst from her as if she couldn’t hold them back a moment longer. ‘This is when it stops, Matthew! Today is when it stops, and these people are my witnesses!’

  Tallis’s expression of detached amusement didn’t flicker, but Anna could feel his suppressed fury. ‘Oh, Kitty, my love, don’t be so tedious,’ he said in a bored voice. ‘We’re both too old for these kinds of dramas.’

  ‘It’s over.’ Catherine’s voice was low and insistent. ‘I need it to be over – for both our sakes.’ She quietly closed the door leaving Anna and Tim alone with Tallis.

  It was one of the most surreal moments of Anna’s life. Though her gut instincts warned her against this arrogant old man, she was ashamed to find herself feeling slightly giddy; she was actually in the same room as the near-legendary figure of Isadora’s and Hetty’s stories.

  Tallis gave Anna his ironic smile. ‘I’m afraid you rather have the advantage. It appears you know who I am. Unfortunately Kitty forgot to introduce us.’

  ‘I’m Anna Hopkins,’ Anna said, not moving to shake hands.

  ‘Tim Freemantle,’ Tim said, also not moving.

  ‘And I assume you are Anna’s young man?’ Tallis said.

  ‘No, I’m her friend,’ Tim said curtly.

  Tallis shot him an intrigued look. Anna thought he was going to pass some comment, but he just said softly, ‘Ah. Yes, I see,’ and returned his attention to Anna. ‘I hope you’ve had an enjoyable Christmas, Anna?’

  ‘Actually, no I haven’t!’ Anna flashed back. She’d had enough of Tallis’s game that they were all having a civilized tea party. ‘My friend was attacked outside her house. I believe you knew her, Isadora Salzman?’ The little colour Tallis had left drained from his face. He began to wheeze, clearly struggling to get air into his lungs.