by Penny Grubb
‘How do you do. Your aunt said … uh … told me about … uh …’
Charlotte was in such a lather of indecision as to whether she should shake hands, Annie had consciously to time her move to grab the flapping fingers and squeeze them between her own.
Others, doubtless primed by her aunt, murmured about ‘that nasty business’, ‘that lad fishing’, before they turned back to their papers or the TV, their duty done. Annie supposed they were all up to their eyes in ‘my niece who’s a big success in London, you know.’ Only Charlotte, pinned by a look from Aunt Marian, stayed nearby as Annie perched on the arm of her aunt’s chair.
‘How’s business, dear?’ Aunt Marian held her head high and spoke in triumphant tones. ‘I know how hard it must be to get away with all the work you have on. Still, I suppose you must have plenty of people working for you now.’
‘Everything’s going fine.’ What else could she say? We sacked our last employee last week. No way. She wouldn’t have sullied Aunt Marian’s moment of triumph for anything. This set of guests would be gone by the time the crash came. How long would it be, left to her own devices, for Aunt Marian to realize the full implications, that Annie’s imprudence would pull this comfortable retirement from under her?
Her aunt would give up everything and live in a council bedsit to help out, Annie knew that. Her money had always been at Annie’s disposal. ‘I hate to think of you waiting to inherit, dear,’ she’d said many times. ‘So just you remember, if ever you’re in need, you come straight to me.’ Annie had resisted for years, but then a chance came up that looked too good to let go by.
‘I don’t need money, Aunt Marian. I just need to get a foothold in the business.’ Aunt Marian had guaranteed the loan. And the next one … and the one after that. Annie was certain her aunt hadn’t a clue how much it all came to. And even if she did, she wouldn’t know how the interest charges had hiked things up, how the missed payments had spiralled the debt out of control. Her aunt had set aside her own grief to help bring Annie up. She’d softened the blow of the bewildering loss of her mother, and now, because of the niece she’d done her best for, she would live out her life in penury. Waiting for the crash wasn’t an option. She couldn’t let it land on her aunt without warning. If only her father was here to help break the news.
Her aunt’s voice cut across her thoughts. ‘Do you still see anything of your old schoolfriends? Margot for instance. I know she works in London. You and she were such friends.’
Margot? What on earth made Aunt Marian pick on Margot to ask about? A wave of conflicting emotion swept through Annie as the face of her old schoolfriend came to mind. Margot who’d stood up for her at school when the others turned against her; and Margot now, supercilious, ultra-successful, with her plush suite of offices not much beyond a stone’s throw from Annie’s own. Not that an Olympic stone thrower could bridge the chasm between them these days. She became uncomfortably aware of her surroundings, where she perched next to her aunt in a room full of strangers. The rough moquette of the chair arm made her want to squirm. The commentary from the TV boomed out as an unnatural backdrop to a crowd posed to turn in unison at a pre-arranged signal and announce her sins out loud. She felt her fists ball as she spoke and was amazed to hear the calm tones that came from her mouth.
‘No, I haven’t seen Margot in months. She’s too busy for socialising these days.’
‘I always had my doubts about that girl, but she’s doing well, I hear.’
Where would Aunt Marian hear anything about Margot?
‘Oh, I think she’s doing OK.’ Annie blanked out a mental picture of the suite of offices she’d seen the one time she’d visited Margot at work. She still felt the incongruity of Margot having chosen to throw herself into the world of drugs counselling in a business that had blossomed to embrace complementary therapies of all types. There was little that Margot wouldn’t dabble in, but Annie soon learnt the enthusiasm focused solely on the business side and money-making potential. Margot herself was covered by private health insurance and wouldn’t have approached any of her own franchised therapists for any reason other than to collect money. She smiled at her aunt and said, ‘She was renting an office not far from Harley Street the last I heard, but I haven’t seen her in ages.’
‘They’ve taken over the whole floor now,’ a voice chipped in, and Annie turned to stare at Charlotte, who stood awkwardly behind her aunt’s chair.
‘Do you know Margot?’
‘Och yes, dear, didn’t you know, Charlotte works for Margot. Margot often recommends Mrs Watson’s to her city friends. We’ve had a fair few of them over the years. I’ll say this for the lass, she hasn’t forgotten her roots.’
‘Margot?’ Annie blinked. She’d had no idea. Was Margot successful enough for finer feelings these days, and doing her bit for the local economy? Margot would hear all about it when the business went belly-up, and Annie cringed at the thought of Charlotte telling her how Aunt Marian had boasted.
‘Now then, dear, how about some tea? I’ve asked Mrs Watson to serve it in my room. And I’ve asked Charlotte to join us.’
‘Charlotte has a bit of a problem,’ said Aunt Marian as they sat round the small table and she poured tea.
Charlotte gave a whimper and nearly dropped her cup. ‘It was in confidence really.’
It was impossible not to feel something for Charlotte’s plight. This was supposed to be a holiday for her, a period of relaxation, and she’d come up against the anxiety factory that was Aunt Marian. Annie knew only too well the need for tricks to divert her aunt who was always on the lookout for a sapling worry to grow to giant oak proportions. She tried to give Charlotte a reassuring smile.
‘Don’t worry.’ Aunt Marian waved aside the protests. ‘Annie’s in the business. She’ll sort it out for you if anyone can.’
‘Really, it’s very kind, but I don’t know that anything needs sorting. I certainly wasn’t thinking of employing a private eye.’
‘Actually, I’m not a private eye,’ Annie said, with a pointed look at Aunt Marian.
‘Yes, you are, dear,’ Aunt Marian said placidly. ‘Charlotte knows all about it.’
Annie took a couple of deep breaths and pushed her chair back from the table, resisting an urge to get up and pace the room. ‘I was a partner in a PI firm in Yorkshire for a while,’ she told Charlotte. ‘But I left and bought into a London business.’ More fool me. ‘We investigate insurance fraud. At least that’s where we specialize. We very rarely take on anything else. And we don’t do the cloak and dagger stuff.’ This time next month, she added to herself, we won’t be doing anything at all.
Her cloak and dagger comment was said with a sharp look towards Aunt Marian, who gave her a benevolent smile and carried on undaunted. ‘They do this insurance stuff for the money,’ she said confidingly to Charlotte. ‘But Annie’s trained. She was a Special Branch officer for years, you know, before she set up on her own.’
Charlotte looked impressed, but Annie said nothing. She’d never identified the moment Aunt Marian had turned her stalled application to follow in her father’s footsteps into her years in Special Branch. It had become too blatant a lie to contradict.
‘But never mind all that,’ Aunt Marian went on. ‘Charlotte, tell Annie all about your friend who was murdered.’
‘No, no. No one was murdered.’ Charlotte jumped in with an alarmed glance at Aunt Marian and made a faltering start to the tale. ‘It was a client of mine. I was counselling her. It’s just that she had rather a nasty experience round here and I thought …’
So Charlotte was one of Margot’s drugs counsellors. Annie, though not without sympathy for the woman, found some amusement in the way her aunt had turned her into a summer plaything, but the saga itself was not very interesting.
Charlotte told the story of a woman who, high on drugs, had taken off into the hills and, in trying to outrun the hallucinations of a bad trip, fell and lay unconscious in the undergrowth for several hours.
She’d been lucky not to die. After the physical injury had healed, the psychological trauma reared up in nightmares and flashbacks. A rich family had plucked the woman out of NHS care and into the exclusive world of Margot’s brand of complementary medicine. It jarred that Margot, for all her success, had only been able to provide this hesitant ditherer to counsel the victim. No name was mentioned, though Charlotte alluded more than once to the issue of ‘client confidentiality’ with worried looks towards Aunt Marian. Annie, thinking of the call she’d overheard, resisted the temptation to say, ‘Oh, you must mean Lorraine.’
‘Tell Annie about the murdered woman.’
‘No, really, it wasn’t. It’s just that she hallucinated an old friend. Another drug addict. A friend of hers who must have died years ago. It was her subconscious bringing out all the guilt about her own drug taking. It was just with me coming up here. I thought it might be useful to me, as a practitioner I mean, to see the spot where … where it happened. It was stupid of me. I didn’t think. I’ve compromised client confidentiality, and I’m …’ She gave Aunt Marian an agonized glance. ‘I’m relying on your aunt not to give me away.’
‘You can rely on me.’ Aunt Marian sat back, looking smug.
Later that evening when her aunt, yawning, announced her intention to have an early night, Annie decided to wander down to the local pub for a more convivial atmosphere than the staid Mrs Watson’s. On impulse, she asked Charlotte if she’d like to come along.
‘Oh! Well … I … um …’
Annie held her smile in place, but regretted the invitation as soon as it left her lips. As the stutterings turned into a yes, she knew she’d let herself in for an evening of forced conversation.
They walked down the hill together.
‘Uh … That’s a nice jacket.’
‘Thanks. It was my birthday present from Aunt Marian for my twenty-fifth.’ Annie wondered what Charlotte would say if she knew she called it her Margot jacket. Her one piece of kit that made her old schoolfriend take a second look. ‘How long have you worked for Margot?’
‘Oh, not long. I was … I’m only there as a temp. Covering for someone who’s off ill.’
They found a seat at a table by the window away from the crowded bar. ‘So, what brought you here on holiday? Have you been round here before?’
‘Oh no. I’ve heard them talking about it at work. It sounded so nice. Then … well, there was this business with this client. It kind of seemed like a good idea …’ Charlotte’s voice tailed off and she looked down, embarrassed.
‘And … um … you’re on your own?’ God, what a stupid question. What did she expect Charlotte to say? No, I’m here with my partner. He’s in a trunk in the attic. ‘Sorry, I mean … People usually come with friends. It’s unusual for people to holiday alone around here.’ For Chris’sakes, stop digging, thought Annie, taking refuge in her drink.
‘Uh … no. You see, I only moved to London quite recently. I haven’t really made many friends yet. And there’s no one special … you know … a man, I mean. I was married, but we split up. That’s why I moved really.’
‘Sorry. That’s tough.’
‘Oh, it was mutual. We were never well suited. Uh … so how about you? Are you married?’
‘Me? No. I don’t really go for the relationship thing. I prefer to be on my own.’
Charlotte gave her a sly smile. ‘There is, isn’t there? Someone special, I mean. I can tell by the way you’re all defensive about it.’
Annie laughed and wondered why the remark didn’t annoy her. Maybe it was the slightly glazed look in Charlotte’s eye. The alcohol was taking hold already. ‘There’s a guy I see quite a lot of, but it isn’t serious. We like each other’s company, that’s all.’ No way would she tell Charlotte that Mike had a key to her flat, that he’d call in to check it over while she was away. That would give the wrong impression altogether. For a moment, she let a picture run through her head. Her and Mike coming here. He’d enjoy the place and it would be fun showing him around. The problem would be Aunt Marian.
‘I daren’t bring anyone here,’ she confided. ‘If Aunt Marian disapproved, she’d make things impossible, and if she approved, she’d be talking wedding dresses before she finished shaking hands.’
Charlotte laughed. ‘What does he do? Is he in the same line as you?’
‘Nah, he’s in a bank. Stocks, trading, all that stuff.’
A draught blew round them as the door opened and a crowd surged in. Annie recognized a few locals and exchanged nods of recognition.
‘Of course, you’ll know all these people, growing up round here.’
Annie smiled and shook her head. ‘I know two or three of them. The rest are holidaymakers, like you. There isn’t that much local trade.’
‘Isn’t there? Why not?’
‘There’s a religious sect, more or less a closed community. They have a lot of land round here. They don’t drink, so it’s killed the local pubs outside the season.’
‘Oh yes, the Doll Makers. I’ve heard about them. I haven’t seen any, though.’
‘You never see them, except for the young girl. She delivers stuff to the post office up where my father lives.’
‘Dolls?’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘I was hoping I might be able to visit, but your aunt said they aren’t like that.’
‘A guided tour of the doll factory, you mean?’ Annie laughed. ‘No, they don’t go in for that sort of thing. More likely to run you off if you were to turn up.’
‘Is that how they make a living? Dolls?’
Annie gave Charlotte a sideways glance. The questions were jarringly avid. ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ she replied. ‘I doubt anyone but Mr Caine buys them. I’d swear it was the same row of dolls in his shop now as when I was little.’
‘What about the young girl who delivers them? He must sell some if he takes regular deliveries.’
Annie shrugged. ‘I suppose he must. I hadn’t really thought about it.’
‘Did anyone buy you one when you were little?’
‘No, I …’ Annie paused at the ghost of a memory, the delicious squidge of a doll’s middle between small fingers, as compulsive as popping bubble wrap. ‘Not that I can remember.’
Charlotte relaxed visibly as her glass emptied, and was suddenly not at a loss for words at all. ‘So what’s this Caine man’s involvement with them? Why don’t they sell their stuff round here?’
Annie didn’t want to get into involved explanations about the Doll Makers. There was nothing interesting about them any more. She and her friends had done the big curiosity bit when they were younger, sneaking on to forbidden land, even as far as the big wooden doors of the building they used for their services. She smiled, recalling the delicious terror of listening to Margot’s tales of what went on inside. This was something to amuse Charlotte with. ‘Margot used to terrorize the little kids with stories of what they did. Human sacrifice, black magic, you name it. There’s this church thing where they hold services. You can’t see in from outside but you always feel someone’s watching you. We called it the building-with-eyes. Margot said there was a hand, a gnarled hand, that would reach out and grab you if it knew you’d been prying into their secrets. It could get you anywhere, even when you were at home in bed.’ She laughed. ‘None of the kids round here would sleep with the light out when Margot was in storytelling mood.’
‘And is this Caine one of them?’
Again that eager tone. Annie took a sip of her drink. ‘Why are you so interested?’
‘Uh … I’ve heard people talking about them at work, that’s all. I’m just curious.’
Annie knew that Margot and her upmarket associates would not gossip about the rural eccentrics of her youth to the extent it impinged on the consciousness of her employees. Her aunt’s new friend had an agenda of her own.
‘No gnarled hand, though,’ Charlotte added with a smile.
Annie chose her words with care. ‘Cai
ne had something to do with them at one stage,’ she said. ‘Ages ago. Before I can remember.’ Aunt Marian would know, but she wouldn’t tell Charlotte that. Their glasses were nearly empty. Annie drained hers and stood up. ‘Same again?’
Charlotte giggled. ‘I shouldn’t really. I usually stick to Diet Coke or mineral water.’
‘Oh, go on. Another one won’t hurt. You’re on holiday.’
She waited until Charlotte’s glass was half empty, then asked, ‘So who’s this Lorraine person and why is it so important you follow her up?’
‘Oh my God! How do you know about Lorraine?’
‘Don’t worry. I overheard you on the phone. That’s all. So what’s it all about?’
‘Uh … like I said. It’s of interest to me as a practitioner.’
‘It’s a long way to come just for that.’
‘It’s not just for that. I … uh … I knew Lorraine.’
‘You mean other than as a client?’
‘She was never my client. I spoke to her briefly in hospital after her accident, but then …’
Annie waited for Charlotte to go on, but she twisted in the seat and looked out of the window as though expecting to meet the eye of a clandestine watcher.
‘Then what …?’
‘Uh … nothing.’
Annie too glanced out of the window and made a bland comment about tomorrow’s weather. Let Charlotte relax; let the guard go back down. She’d find out what she needed to before the visit was over. Not that she cared about the woman’s hidden agendas. All she wanted was to be sure she was no threat to her aunt.
Chapter 5
At breakfast the next morning, Charlotte met Annie’s eye and gave her a shy smile, a recognition of confidences shared the night before.
The day promised to be warm, but the rain lashed down in waves. Annie tried anyway to tempt her aunt into one of their usual trips, over the mountain to town, or across the loch for a change of scene, but was relieved to be given a firm refusal. Aunt Marian didn’t know she’d sold the BMW, and was sure to ask questions about the ageing Nissan. It could be an opening to tell her aunt the truth about the business, but it wouldn’t be fair to offload it without her father here to soften the blow.
