Murder by Mistake

by Veronica Heley

  At half past two Ellie and Mia were free to go. Ellie enquired again about the toddler, to be told he was in surgery. The man who’d saved their lives was still there, being X-rayed at that moment. Ellie hoped he hadn’t broken his leg, but . . . no, she mustn’t let herself dwell on what had happened or she’d get the horrors again.

  They walked slowly out of the hospital, hoping Thomas would be there in his car, waiting to pick them up. He wasn’t.

  Ellie hurt in so many places she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  ‘Take some painkillers,’ they’d said, and had shoved some at her. She’d refused them because she needed to be on top of things when Mia needed so much care. Taking painkillers slowed her reactions.

  Mia hadn’t much to show for their brush with death, except a graze on one shoulder and bruises down her left side. She wasn’t complaining. That wasn’t her style. When in pain, Mia held her tongue. Now she was shrinking behind Ellie, who wasn’t really tall enough to shelter her from harm.

  Ellie tried her home phone number again. The sun was hot on her head outside the hospital so she moved herself and Mia back into the shade of the entrance hall. The phone rang and rang. Finally, Ellie’s housekeeper picked it up.

  ‘Rose? Ellie here. Is Thomas around?’

  Rose yawned. She’d probably just woken up from her afternoon nap. ‘Don’t you remember, he’s gone up somewhere north, I think he said it was Leeds, but it might have been Durham. A conference of some sort. He won’t be back till late tonight. Did you have a nice lunch?’

  Ellie could have kicked herself, except that it would have hurt too much. How ever could she have forgotten that Thomas was going away? She’d ordered a cab to take her and Mia to the solicitor’s office and they’d intended to go on to have lunch somewhere after their appointment. Ellie still didn’t know what the solicitor had said to Mia, but whatever it was, it had knocked the girl sideways.

  Don’t think about being knocked sideways. That was just a figure of speech. What she meant was, that Mia had been upset when she came out of the solicitor’s room and hadn’t got round to telling Ellie why before . . . before being knocked down. Well, don’t think about that now. Ellie’s stomach rumbled, which reminded her they’d missed lunch.

  ‘Sorry, Rose. Silly of me. I quite forgot. We got delayed by a traffic accident in Ealing Broadway. I’ll get a cab home.’

  She’d never learned to drive but, having inherited some money, kept an account with a local cab firm. She got through to the minicab office, who said they’d pick her up as soon as, if not sooner.

  As the cab turned into her own drive – it had turned up quickly as promised – Ellie spotted a well-known car parked by the front door. She sighed. She found it hard enough to deal with her daughter Diana when she was feeling strong, and at that moment she felt as weak as a newborn kitten. Or baby.

  Don’t think about the baby. Or the toddler, or the mother. She signed the chit for the cab firm and sought for house keys in her handbag.

  Would the two children remember their mother when they grew up? Would Social Services find a good foster mother for them, or put them up for adoption? Would the two big women get their husbands or partners to give them a cuddle and maybe a beer or two that night, to take the edge off what they’d seen and done that day? Would Leontes – really, that was a ridiculous name – be all right?

  Mia shivered, her eyes on Diana’s car. ‘A visitor? I’m not sure I feel up to . . .’

  ‘Let’s go in through the kitchen door. We can grab a bite to eat and then you can slip upstairs to your own room, have a little lie-down.’

  ‘What about you?’ Mia’s manners were, as always, perfect.

  ‘I’ll manage,’ said Ellie, telling herself that over the years she had sometimes won battles with her ambitious daughter Diana; but not when she’d just been knocked over. Ouch. Maybe she could faint or something? Get Diana to show some sympathy for her mother’s plight?

  Well, probably not, knowing Diana. Best get it over with. ‘This way, Mia.’

  Monday afternoon

  She should have died, the witch, the bitch. When his mobile had rung, he hadn’t expected to receive a picture of her, back in Ealing! She ought to have died. No ordinary person could have survived. But she wasn’t ordinary, was she? She was a witch and ought to be burned at the stake. And so she would be. He’d see to it if no one else did.

  TWO

  Monday afternoon

  Ellie slipped through the back door, towing Mia after her. The kitchen smelt fresh and every surface sparkled, so the cleaners must have been in today. Rose was bustling around while their ginger cat Midge watched from a nearby chair, waiting for titbits.

  Rose had been Ellie’s friend since the days when they’d worked together in the local charity shop. Later she’d become housekeeper to Ellie’s elderly aunt, Miss Quicke, and after the old lady died had decided to carry on doing the same job for Ellie and Thomas.

  Rose was a little mouse of a woman who’d struck a bad patch last winter, but had bobbed up again with the warmer weather. She had, however, developed an eccentricity, in that she believed her previous employer to be still around the house, observing and commenting on everything that went on. It wasn’t spooky. It was, said Thomas, just Rose’s way of showing that she missed the old lady. Ellie had almost got used to it by now.

  Rose squeaked when she saw Ellie. She threw up her hands, one of which held a rolling pin. ‘What’s happened to you? I thought you were going to see a solicitor. I don’t know, I turn my back for five minutes, and look at you!’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Rose. We got involved in a traffic accident, that’s all. It looks worse than it is. We’ll be all right when we’ve changed and had a bite to eat. Can you magic something up for us?’ She bent down to stroke Midge, who was winding round her legs hoping for a treat . . . which he was not going to get until teatime.

  ‘What would you like?’ Rose darted to the fridge to investigate. ‘Soup and a boiled egg with toast fingers? I’ll bring it up to your bedroom for you won’t get much peace with her around. You know what she’s like. How did she get in, you’ll want to know? Well, it was the electricity man, come to read the meter. I was showing him where it was and the next thing I know she steps inside after him, bold as brass and twice as sharp, telling me to be off back to the kitchen. So I did. And there’ll be a nice batch of scones for tea, but none for her, not if I have anything to do with it.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Ellie, with a smile. ‘Don’t let’s offer her tea. Before that, soup and an egg would be wonderful. We missed lunch, and I’m sure we’ll feel better for having something inside us.’

  Rose whirled round, throwing food from the fridge on to the kitchen table. ‘Is that blood on your clothes? What have you been up to, for goodness’ sake?’

  ‘It’s worse than it looks. We got in the path of a runaway car, but someone pushed us out of harm’s way. Mia, would you like to take the back stairs up to your room, have a wash and brush up, and then a nice quiet lay-down?’

  ‘Yes, but I was only supposed to be staying with you the one night, and I ought to be moving to a hotel so—’

  ‘Rubbish. You stay here as long as you like. Now go and get some rest, there’s a good girl.’

  Mia produced a tiny, anxious smile. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll get rid of Diana and be up in a minute.’

  ‘Humph!’ said Rose, rattling saucepans. ‘Easier said than done.’

  Mia disappeared like a shadow up the stairs, Midge the cat gave up on Ellie and went back to watching Rose, while Ellie braced herself for an encounter with her daughter.

  Diana was in the hall, dark-haired, dressed all in black as usual. Almost, she blended with the dark panelling. She was scratching notes on a pad, measuring tape in hand. A ring glittered on her left hand.

  A ring. What on earth? A horrendous idea shot across Ellie’s mind. What was the worst that could happen? Oh, no. Please, no!

  �
�Hi!’ Diana rewound her tape, making more notes. She looked preoccupied, but not guilty. ‘Where have you been? Not that it matters, don’t bother to make excuses, I really don’t need to know. Out nursemaiding that stupid little girl that there’s been so much fuss about, I suppose. I wonder she dare show her face around here again. But there, you’re a sucker for punishment, aren’t you?’

  ‘Am I?’ The ring was on the third finger of Diana’s left hand. She’d got engaged again? Not to Dubious Denis, pray not to him! Diana and her estate agency partner Denis had been an item for some time, but Ellie had never liked or trusted him.

  Diana looked up long enough from taking notes to observe that her mother was not looking her usual trim self. ‘You look like somebody’s dragged you under a bus.’ Distaste in her voice. ‘Someone tried to mug you?’ Diana had a hard, clear voice, which expressed her personality rather well.

  ‘A traffic accident. A man kindly pushed me out of the way. I’m all right but I need to rest, so if you don’t mind, perhaps we can talk tomorrow.’

  Diana was eyeing the space between the wide uncarpeted stairs and the heavy Victorian front door. ‘I’m wondering where to have the photographs. If we have a really large stand of lilies here . . . that might be best. Or in the garden, if it’s fine?’

  ‘I don’t think I want to know what you’re talking about,’ said Ellie, beginning to climb the stairs, pulling herself up by the banisters.

  ‘I expect you’ve guessed. Denis has asked me to marry him, I’ve agreed and we’re doing the deed this Saturday because it’s the Bank Holiday weekend. Registry office, of course. The reception will be here.’

  ‘No,’ said Ellie, reaching the top of the stairs. ‘Out of the question.’ She stifled a laugh because she had a perfect excuse for refusing to do what Diana asked. ‘As it happens, I’m hosting another celebration here that day.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What can possibly be more important than my wedding?’

  ‘Your second wedding, actually. You got rid of one perfectly good husband some years ago; remember? By the way, has Denis managed to shed his own wife and four children already?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I know it’s all a bit of a rush, but it’s a quiet time in the office, and we’ve tickets to fly to Barbados next day for a honeymoon, so that fixes the date.’

  Ellie leaned on the newel post at the top of the stairs. She was looking forward to putting a spanner in Diana’s plans. ‘You should have consulted me before making your arrangements. I’m hosting a wedding party here that day for someone else. It’s been arranged for months.’

  Diana took a step back. ‘You can’t be!’

  Someone pressed the doorbell and didn’t let up. ‘You answer it,’ said Ellie. ‘I’m not coming down.’

  Diana pocketed her tape measure and opened the door, only to have a huge bouquet of Madonna lilies thrust into her face. Someone said ‘Sign here,’ and disappeared, pulling the door to behind him.

  Ellie leaned over the banister. ‘Who are they for?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Diana found an envelope with a card inside it. ‘All it says is, “You should have died.”’

  Ellie shuddered. ‘Are they meant for Mia? That’s horrible.’

  Diana shrugged. ‘I suppose so. She’s ruined so many people’s lives, it’s not surprising.’

  ‘They ruined hers first, and they’ve only got what’s coming to them. We mustn’t let Mia see them. Put them in the kitchen sink and I’ll think what to do with them later. Hide the card. We don’t need to show it to Mia.’

  ‘First we must get the details for the reception settled.’

  ‘No. First I go to the bathroom, get changed, and eat something. Then I must have a little nap.’

  ‘All right. I’ll come back at, say, six this evening. We can have it out then. But it’s too late to change anything, as the invitations went out last week.’ Diana left, slamming the front door behind her and leaving the flowers on the hall table. Ellie stared after her daughter. Had she really meant . . .? No, impossible.

  Rose appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with food for an invalid: soup and tiny sandwiches. ‘Good riddance. Where did those flowers come from?’

  ‘She’s coming back. The flowers are . . . I think they’ve been sent to us by mistake.’ Yes, that must be it. She hoped. ‘As for Diana, I’ll tell you later.’ Ellie was wearily conscious of all the battles she’d had with her only daughter over the years. Most of which Ellie had lost.

  ‘What does she want now?’ Rose climbed the stairs with the tray in her hands.

  ‘To hold her wedding reception here, on the same day as the one for Mia’s friend.’

  ‘Diana’s never stupid enough to marry that Denis, is she? Miss Quicke will have something to say about that.’ Rose preceded Ellie into the big master bedroom at the back of the house and put the tray down on a table near the middle window. ‘Tell her she can’t.’

  ‘She says the wedding invitations have all gone out.’ Ellie shed her bag, slipped out of her ruined shoes, and made for her bathroom.

  ‘Or so she says.’

  Ellie grinned. ‘You’re right. She may well be bluffing.’

  Ellie cleaned herself up and ate what she could, then slid under the duvet for a rest. The moment she closed her eyes, the picture of the carnage on the pavement leapt into her mind. She banished it. Turned over. Tried again. Heard the baby crying, hopelessly, hungrily. Saw those two wonderful women trying to staunch the child’s bleeding arm . . . Saw the big man curl up, hands over his head. No, no. Go away. I must try to rest.

  A whisper of sound. Was that Mia, sobbing?

  The house was quiet around her, except for a blackbird singing in a tree outside and the murmur of a car along the road on the other side of the house. She’d not let this get to her. Of course not.

  Praise the Lord for looking after her. That was the first thing. The second was . . . I’m too tired to cope with Diana. Yet she knew she must.

  Monday evening

  Diana arrived at six o’clock on the dot as Ellie returned from dumping the lilies on the compost heap in the garden. Out of sight, out of mind. Probably.

  Strictly speaking, of course, they were not lilies, but Zantedeschias. Only, who was going to remember that? They were Madonna or Arum lilies to most people, and that was how they’d remain.

  Thomas had rung from the train on his way back and would be with them for supper. He’d sounded tired, but had said the conference had gone well and Ellie should congratulate him because he hadn’t lost his temper once. He’d been concerned that his paper was going to be rubbished by an old adversary of his, but in the end all had been well. Perhaps, said Thomas, his old mate was going down with a virus.

  Ellie hadn’t told him about the accident, or that she’d asked Mia to stay on. Mia had originally been asked to stay for just the one night while she went to see her solicitor. That was the night that Thomas was away, so he wasn’t supposed to have been inconvenienced by her visit in any way.

  Mia’s friend Ursula had promised to find somewhere else for her to stay tonight, and no doubt would do so. Only, the girl really wasn’t fit to be turned out like an orphan into the storm, was she? Not that she was an orphan, precisely, and it was midsummer and they hadn’t had any storms lately.

  What was it that the solicitor had had to say to Mia, to make her look so shocked? Ellie told herself that curiosity killed the cat, but she was very fond of cats and after all there was plenty of room for Mia in this big house, wasn’t there?

  Ellie told herself firmly to calm down and think clearly. It really would be best all round if Mia stayed on with them for a while. At least till after the wedding. Ellie was sure Thomas wouldn’t object, but she did have just the slightest of twinges in the conscience area because she hadn’t discussed the matter with him beforehand. True, the big house had been left to her by Miss Quicke before Thomas joined hands with her in matrimony, so in theory she had the right to invite whomso
ever she liked to stay. Hadn’t she? But . . . Oh, well. She’d work it out in due course.

  To deal with Diana, Ellie had changed – with many a wince – into a china blue jersey dress which didn’t press on her cuts and bruises. Diana had also changed, into something clingy and a trifle too skimpy for her thin figure. Mauve and black. In Victorian times that would have signified she was leaving off her widow’s weeds to wear garments of dark purple, working through lilac and shades of grey as she gradually returned to society. Not to white. Ellie couldn’t remember her daughter ever wearing white. It wouldn’t have suited her, anyway.

  ‘Where’s the problem child?’ asked Diana, running her finger across the mantelpiece to check for dust; not that there ever was any, since Ellie employed a firm to clean and do all the heavy jobs in the house. The cleaning firm was most efficiently run by Diana’s discarded first husband’s new wife – but we don’t mention that nowadays, do we?

  ‘Mia’s in the kitchen, helping Rose with supper. Now listen, Diana—’

  ‘No, you listen to me for once. This is my chance of happiness with Denis, and I’m not going to let you spoil it. We’ve been together now for long enough to know we can make a go of it as a couple, and we want to make it official in every way.’

  ‘I didn’t think estate agents were doing all that well in the present economic conditions. Do you really think it’s wise to—’

  ‘You don’t have to think. You just have to behave like a mother for once.’

  That was a blow below the belt, wasn’t it? Ellie told herself not to lose her temper. She counted to five, slowly. ‘All right. You are both adults and can be presumed to know what you’re doing. You want to get married again. Can he afford another wife? What about his first wife and their children?’

  ‘She keeps their house and he gives her what he can spare. He’s renting a big house for us with six bedrooms, two en suite, plus two more bathrooms. We’ll let out rooms to students in term time and have all the children to stay with us in the holidays.’