Ellie caught on to this. ‘That’s what she called her stepdaughter?’
Both faces assumed the expression of someone who’d swallowed vinegar. ‘Right old—’
‘Now, now,’ said Vera. ‘Wash your mouth out with soap.’
‘That one used to find fault with everything we done, said she coulda done it better herself and what was Mummy paying us for, she’d like to know?’
‘And up hers, too! Pfah!’ Vera gave a two-fingered salute.
Ellie said, ‘You said Edwina popped in regularly. Do you know where she lives? Did she never marry? Was her name Pryce, too?’
‘Edwina never got herself married,’ said Pet, with the air of one delivering a pleasant item of gossip. ‘Too sharp a tongue and too high an opinion of herself. Also, no boobs to speak of. Got a flat in that block after the shops, just before the Common.’
‘And her daughter? The one the Pryces didn’t pay private school fees for?’
‘Typical teenager, no bra, big boots. Always sniffling, never has a tissue. Edwina used to drag the girl round with her sometimes. “Now you behave yourself and be nice to Granny.” Fat chance. Evangeline, that’s her name. Evangeline-no-knickers. When she sits down, her jeans ride so low you can see the divide at the back. Pardon me, but you can.’
Vera nodded. ‘Evangeline-no-manners, either. We could always tell when she’d been round because we’d find chewing gum stuck to the tables and chairs. Left school hardly able to read and write. Parties all night but can’t get up in the morning to save her life. Had a job in an off-licence for a while, pulls pints in a bar in the evenings now.’
‘Lives with her mother?’
‘She’s got a room above the pub. Isn’t that right, Pet?’
‘Think so. I expect she’ll get one up the spout any day and go on the social for the rest of her life, popping them out regular.’
Ellie took a couple of seconds to interpret that. Pet meant the girl would get pregnant time after time in order to avoid work. ‘What about the lad Terry, who brought her the turkey? Where does he live? And his parents? Are they still alive and in contact?’
‘All gone now. Mother and father divorced. She went to live up north somewhere, Manchester way, something like that. Lost touch, anyhow. Father drank himself to death, popped off last June, thereabouts, didn’t he, Pet? She made a fuss about going to the funeral, down in Sussex somewhere, near Brighton. She wasn’t driving long distances then and Fritz was going to drive her, but she didn’t trust him, used a minicab firm instead. Edwina and her daughter wanted to go as well, expected to be given a lift because neither of them drive, but Madam said she couldn’t stand being bored for that long. Besides, she’d made it known she was thinking of going into a home, and they’d all started to ask her for more money by then even though she’d promised to go on looking after them.’
Pet sighed, eased her back. ‘Well, we ought to be getting on.’
Vera was still in full flow. ‘Mrs Pryce kept her head up, put her make-up on, false eyelashes and all, to the last. But she was right to go where she could be looked after, keep her dignity, like. She give me these earrings when she went. Bought them at a shop in the Broadway. Gave me the receipt and all, in case I wanted to exchange them.’
Pet agreed. ‘Gave me a necklace, too, with my lucky birth sign on it.’
Ellie looked, but Pet wasn’t wearing the necklace that day.
Vera said, ‘We’re going down to see her next month for her birthday, aren’t we, Pet?’
Ellie said, ‘That’s nice of you.’
Vera produced a twisted smile. ‘Well, we would have done anyway, but she did say that when the house was sold, she might give us a little something to make our lives easier. I want to take Mikey to the seaside for a holiday. He’s never seen the sea.’
Pet got to her feet. ‘I dunno what’s happening about the house. The “For Sale” board’s gone. Perhaps she’s changed her mind, taken it off the market.’
‘You’ve got her new address?’
‘Something Towers, Denham.’ Vera scrabbled in her handbag and produced a dog-eared diary. ‘Corfton Towers. Fritz is going to drive us there and back. It’s all arranged.’ She stood up. ‘Well, this won’t get the baby his bottle. You want us to turn out the big bedroom today, Mrs Quicke?’
‘Hang on a moment.’ Ellie reached for a pad of shopping lists and tore off a sheet to write on. ‘Forget turning out today. Just do a top dust, clean the bathrooms, and then do the downstairs. Let me get this straight. There’s Mrs Flavia Pryce, and her deceased husband. Then there’s his brother, also deceased. What’s the name of the brother’s grandson with all the piercings?’
‘That’s Terry.’
Ellie drew a family tree, which sprawled all over the page but would do. ‘There was a son and daughter by Mr Pryce’s first marriage. The son – what’s his name? – works as a school caretaker.’
‘That’s Edgar. She sent him cheques for his birthday and Christmas which he did come round to thank her for. Tell the truth, I don’t think he was as bad as his sister, never brought her his bills to pay that I know of.’
‘Right; so the daughter is Edwina, and she lives in that dark block of flats just before you get to the Common, the ones that you can’t see for the trees planted close in front. Fritz the gardener lives above the Co-op supermarket in the Lane. Right? Do you happen to know where Terry lives?’
Vera shrugged. ‘Moved out to be with a “friend”, if you know what I mean. He was always short for the rent and asking for a sub. Same as Evangeline. She got herself engaged a couple months back, and what a how-de-do that was. The missus wasn’t best pleased to be asked for a present when she hadn’t even been invited to their engagement party.’
Pet agreed. ‘Didn’t he break it off, soon after? Yes, because she come round weeping her eyes out, saying he’d gone off with the presents and that the ring he’d bought her was just glass. Just what you’d expect with her taste in men.’
‘Poor girl.’ Vera sighed. ‘It must have been a shock, even if he did have an eye to the main chance. But at least she wasn’t pregnant.’
‘She thought she was, remember? Screaming and shouting all over the place. Mrs Pryce give us a blow by blow run-down. She didn’t have all that many visitors, see, and she liked an audience.’
‘It was a false alarm, and lucky for her that it was.’ And Vera should know because Rose said her little Mikey was a right terror and no mistake.
‘Hang on a minute.’ Ellie turned her piece of paper over and scribbled on the back. ‘Who was Mrs Pryce’s solicitor?’
Vera shrugged. ‘No idea. She didn’t hold with them, nor with doctors. Keep out of their clutches and you’ll live longer, she said.’
‘She must have made a will.’
Pet said, ‘They were always on at her about it. Dunno as she ever did, though.’
‘Perhaps she will now,’ said Vera, clearing away the coffee mugs.
‘Who drove her off to the retirement home? Fritz?’
‘He did offer, but she drove herself,’ said Vera. ‘We was a bit worried about her doing that, but she wanted to take this and that with her, precious things, you know? She said it would be all right, if she took it slow.’
‘When did you see her last?’
‘Coupla days before she left. We offered to come in after the Cats Protection people took the pussies, and the auctioneers and house clearance people took the furniture. To clean up, leave everything tidy. First she said yes, she’d like that, and then she left a message at the office for us not to bother. I’m glad, really. It’s sad to see a house that’s been a home pulled apart like that.’
‘Vera, did you manage to get one of the cats for yourself?’
‘I did think about it, but no; being out all day working, and then Mikey might not have handled it too well, so, no; it wasn’t fair. They went to a good home.’
‘Do you know which auction house she used? No?’ Ellie took another sheet of paper
off the pad. ‘What about the keys you had?’
‘Returned to the office.’
‘We really must get on,’ said Pet, picking up a box of cleaning materials. ‘Shall I do your bathroom first?’
Ellie frowned at her jottings. She thought there were a lot more questions she ought to have asked but . . . another day, perhaps. She could hear Rose, weakly calling for her. First things first.
Rose was sitting in her chair, the television on but muted. Rose was crying.
Ellie was alarmed. ‘You’re in pain? I’ll get you something.’
‘No, no. Just a little throbbing, it will soon go, not to worry, I’m not made of paper, you know? But Ellie, we’re such old friends and go back such a long way that – won’t you sit down for a moment? There, always on the go, always thinking of other people, but as Miss Quicke said to me the other day, it’s about time you took a little thought for yourself, so there’s nothing for it, the time has come and I’m not complaining, I’ve had a good run for my money, haven’t I? But all good things . . . You do understand, don’t you?’
‘Not really, my dear. Tell me.’
‘You’re far too soft-hearted to say it, so I’m saying it for you. It’s time I went into a home.’
Ellie took one of Rose’s frail, freckled hands in both of hers. ‘If you’re tired of living with us and think you’d get better care somewhere else, you must say so and of course we’ll arrange it. But Rose, we’d much rather look after you here.’
Silvery trails ran down Rose’s cheeks. ‘It’s no use, I’m losing the plot as they say. It was just little things at first, putting down onions instead of potatoes on the shopping list and forgetting to turn the oven on when I’ve put the pie in. I found the bread in the laundry basket the other day, and I’ve just realized I pulled up all those gladioli you planted, thinking they were montbretias, which are just like weeds and best be got rid of. There’s no point saying I’m doing my job as a housekeeper when I haven’t been able to manage the stairs for ever. And now I’m starting to see things.’
‘Dear Rose. I’ve been round to look at the Pryce house and I, too, thought someone was watching me when I was in their garden.’
‘I could see this face looking down at me, floating in mid-air. That’s not right and you can’t pretend that it is.’
‘Maybe there was someone there, hiding in the attic.’
Rose closed her eyes and let her head fall to one side. ‘It was all right when Mia was here to keep an eye on me. What a blessing that girl has been, picking up things after me, seeing to everything I forget, but it’s only right and proper that she gets on with her own life now. I know you’d do your best to look after me, but it’s too much to ask even of you, and unfair to Thomas, too. So I must go.’
Tuesday afternoon
‘Vera! Have you finished with the hoover?’
‘Coming. Fancy Terry Pryce ripping off Mrs Quicke like that! When Mrs Pryce finds out, she’ll do her nut, cut him out of her will and all.’
‘Serve him right. He’s got a job, hasn’t he?’
‘All that lot’s short of the readies, Pet.’
‘Not to mention us.’
‘Mind that corner. She goes bonkers if you scratch her mahogany.’ Vera straightened up from dusting the skirting board. ‘I’ve got a funny feeling about Mrs Pryce. I wonder if she took sick driving down and is in hospital somewhere.’
Pet shrugged. ‘She probably changed her mind about the retirement home and went off on a wild adventure to Spain or Monte Carlo.’
‘I suppose.’
They finished their work in silence.
SIX
Tuesday afternoon
Ellie said, ‘Now, Rose; you listen to me for a change. We’ve known one another for years and been through a lot together. You transformed my aunt’s life for the good when you moved in with her, and you are part of our family now. What’s more, you’ve had more to do with Mia’s return to health than we have.
‘We don’t want you to leave us. Yes, you’ve had a shock, falling off the ladder and hurting yourself, and it may take a while for you to recover. Of course, we mustn’t stand in Mia’s way. It’s only right and proper that she should move on. So I’m thinking about finding someone to come in every day to be with you when I have to go out. You can tell them what to do about the house, and they’ll do it. Just until you’re back on top of things again.’
‘Suppose – suppose I don’t ever get back to the way I used to be? Suppose I go on seeing things?’
It was true she’d been having imaginary conversations with her old employer recently. Thomas said this was because Rose had been so close to Miss Quicke that she could come out with whatever she thought her old employer might have had to say on any given situation. He said that if Rose chose to think she actually ‘saw’ Miss Quicke on these occasions, it was a harmless phenomenon and not to be confused with seeing a ghost.
Ellie had an inspiration. ‘Have you asked my aunt about this? I don’t think she’d want you to leave us – or her.’
‘Oh.’ Rose thought about that. ‘No, I haven’t seen her lately.’ She struggled upright. ‘I wonder . . . She was talking about the plants in the conservatory last time I saw her, said they weren’t looking as good as when I was caring for them. I don’t think that dratted gardener understands them. Perhaps I could get out there later on, have a look at the plants, see what she says.’
Miss Quicke had added the conservatory to the back of the house specifically for Rose to potter around in, and it seemed that that was where the old lady was usually to be found. Not that anyone apart from Rose had ever seen her.
‘What a good idea,’ said Ellie, looking at her watch. ‘I’ll get you some lunch and after you’ve had your little rest this afternoon, you can see if you feel up to it.’
Ellie left her old friend smiling. Back in the kitchen, Ellie inspected the contents of the fridge. As she put various items on the table for the meal, she noticed that her notes on the conversation with Vera and Pet had disappeared. Had they been disposed of by accident or design?
Come to think of it, hadn’t there been a something and a nothing . . . a half-formed thought about . . . an uneasiness in her mind that had arisen during that apparently frank talk?
Ellie looked through the pile of newspapers put out ready for recycling, but the sheets from her shopping list were not there. The black bag that lined the bin in the kitchen was clean and fresh – and empty.
Ellie went outside the back door and found a rubbish bag which Vera or Pet had just filled and put there. She opened it, wincing as tiny vinegar flies stormed out. No notes. There was nothing in the green box used for recycled paper, either. How very odd.
‘We’re off now!’ Vera put her head out of the kitchen door and waved goodbye. ‘See you Friday.’
‘Yes,’ said Ellie. ‘Have you seen . . . ?’ She was talking to thin air. She went back indoors and down the corridor to her study, where she set about writing down again everything she could remember that Vera and Pet had told her.
She finished up by scrawling a couple of questions to herself. Why had her notes been removed? And which of the girls had done it?
She made soup and sandwiches for lunch and distributed them around the house. Thomas was on the phone and merely grunted to her when she took his tray in. At least the bishop had gone.
Ellie took her own tray into her study and, picking up the phone, asked Directory Enquiries to find her the number for the Corfton Towers Retirement home, which they did.
A bright-voiced woman answered the phone.
Ellie said, ‘Is it possible to speak to Mrs Pryce? Mrs Flavia Pryce?’
‘Who?’ A pause. ‘Sorry. We don’t have anyone of that name here.’
‘Are you sure? She told me she was moving into your place, oh, it must be nearly six weeks ago now. My friends had arranged to come out to see her on her birthday, but may have to change the date. My name is Quicke, Mrs Ellie Quicke, and I live in th
e next road to Mrs Pryce in Ealing.’
‘One moment, please.’ A tapping of keys. Using a computer? ‘No, I’m sorry, we have no one of that name here.’
‘How very odd. I mean; she’s left her house here, all the furniture’s gone, her cats have been collected, bills all paid up.’ A gentle laugh. ‘She can’t have got married and changed her name again, can she?’
‘Just a minute.’ Ellie was put on hold. Some irritating music was played at her. Vivaldi. One of the Four Seasons? There’s a muffled quality to sound played like that over the phone. Ellie grimaced.
‘Mrs – er – Quicke? Is that right?’ An educated man’s voice, with a slight accent. Punjabi? Perhaps this was the man whom Terry Pryce had spoken to?
‘Yes. Ellie Quicke. A neighbour of Mrs Pryce’s. Our garden walls touch at one point, although the entrance to her house is on the next road.’
‘My assistant tells me you and some friends have arranged to come over to visit Mrs Pryce. Do you know her well?’
‘I don’t understand. If she hasn’t got a phone of her own in her room, then surely you can reach her through the switchboard, or send someone to tell her she’s wanted on the phone?’
‘That would be the position if we had a Mrs Pryce here. But we do not.’
‘But – she said she was moving to—’
‘That was the position as we understood it, too. Mrs Pryce paid six months rent in advance and booked our biggest room with en suite and French doors leading on to the garden. She was businesslike in all her dealings with us. She made it clear that if she found our facilities not to her liking, she would be moving on, in which case we agreed that she would give us two months’ notice.
‘Although her furniture arrived here as arranged, she did not. She phoned the day after she was due to arrive, saying she’d changed her mind about moving in. She said she’d let us have instructions as to what was to be done with her belongings. We have heard nothing since. We had no reason to suspect that the balance of her mind was disturbed, but this is the only explanation we have that fits the facts.’
Murder My Neighbour Page 7
