by Hazel Holt
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
As most people would agree, there is nothing quite so irritating as a dripping tap, and if you are a middle-aged female living alone it’s really difficult to find someone to do that sort of small job any more. Fortunately Michael is good at that kind of thing and said he’d come round after work and fix it for me.
“There you are,” he said, coming downstairs from the bathroom, “all done. It just needed a new washer.”
“Bless you. Will you have a cup of tea or something stronger?”
“Tea will be fine. Have you got any of that chocolate cake left?”
I got out the cups and the cake and while we were waiting for the kettle to boil Michael said, “You’ll never believe what’s happened.”
“What?” I asked anxiously. “Something to do with Thea or Alice?”
“No, no, nothing to do with us. It’s about the Malcolm Hardy affair you seem to be taking such an interest in.”
“Oh, really?”
“It turns out that June Hardy might not inherit the estate after all.”
“What! But I thought…”
“So did everyone. He had no direct heir, so she inherits. But it turns out that he may well have an heir.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That girl Julie, his girlfriend, she’s going to have a baby and she says it’s his.”
“Good heavens!”
I poured the water into the teapot and asked, “Why did no one know before?”
“It’s a bit complicated. Apparently Malcolm Hardy was furious when she told him and wanted her to get rid of it.”
“Poor girl!”
“Well, she wouldn’t and that’s what they split up over – well that and the fact that he wanted her out of his life anyway because he’d just started an affair with someone else.”
“Claudia Drummond.”
Michael laughed. “I might have guessed you’d have known about that! Well, anyway, things were pretty difficult between them when he died. Then afterwards she didn’t know what to do. She was living with her parents and she hadn’t told them.”
“No, from what I know Cynthia Barnes isn’t the sort of person you could confide in, even if you were her daughter, and I did hear that her husband is a very difficult man.”
“That’s more or less what we gathered. This Julie girl was afraid to tell her parents, but obviously it wasn’t something she could keep hidden forever, and they found out. Actually, it was the father who approached us, as Malcolm Hardy’s solicitors, to see if there was any chance of getting money from the estate – money does seem to be his main consideration; just what he can get out of it, no real feeling for his daughter.”
“Did you tell him about old Mr Hardy’s will?”
“No. Too early to say anything, the baby hasn’t been born yet. I mean…”
“Yes I see…”
“And even when it has been born they have to prove that it was Malcolm Hardy’s.”
“Can they do that now he’s dead, from DNAand so forth?”
“Yes. It’ll be a complicated business, but they can do it. But even if the child is his direct heir, we’ll have to set up some sort of trust fund. It’s by no means cut and dried, and we certainly can’t go handing out money at this stage.”
“Poor June,” I said. “Though perhaps she won’t mind too much if she doesn’t inherit – she’s always seemed to be the sort of person who doesn’t care too much about money. The only thing she really does care about now is her work. I know she loves being at The Larches, she’s done a wonderful job there.”
“Well it’s early days yet. Is there another cup in the pot? Then I must be off if I’m going to be in time for Alice’s bath.”
The weekend was wet and windy but whatever the weather Tris always insists on his walk so, when the rain had more or less eased off into a thin drizzle, I put on a raincoat and the hideous waterproof hat that I only wear when I hope I’m not going to meet anyone I know, and we drove down to the beach. Actually, once we were out of the car and into the open air it was quite invigorating and I walked slowly along behind Tris as he scratched away looking for tiny crabs, sending up showers of sand with his busy paws. The wind had whipped up the waves into white horses and the rainy weather hid the far coast of Wales. We seemed to have the beach to ourselves apart from a pair of oyster-catchers whose distinctive plumage and bright orange beaks were a welcome, indeed a rare, sight on our bit of the coast. It was pleasant to be enclosed in a little world of our own and I felt mildly resentful when I saw another figure approaching us along the shoreline. However, as we drew nearer I saw that it was Kathy.
“Hello,” I said. “I didn’t think anyone else would be mad enough to be out on a day like this!”
She laughed and said, “I rather like it when it’s like this and I have the beach to myself. I’ve always loved the sea in winter.”
“Me too, though I think I prefer it when the wind’s a bit less strong! So, how’s everything at the surgery?”
“Oh much better now – well, you know what I mean.”
“I can imagine. It must be much pleasanter to work there now you can all work together like you used to.”
“It is! And even Julie – I think I told you – she seems very keen to fit in now.”
“That’s good. Though I did hear that she and Malcolm Hardy weren’t getting on too well when he died.”
“No, they had several dreadful rows. And I’m not surprised now that we know –” She stopped suddenly.
“Now that you know about the baby.”
Kathy looked at me in surprise.
“You know about that?”
“Well yes, I did hear about it in a roundabout sort of way. Poor girl, it’s a bad situation for her and, from what I can gather, her parents aren’t being very kind.”
“I know, she poured it all out to me – I can’t think why.”
“She needed someone to talk to and you’d be the obvious person.”
“Me?”
“Yes, kind, sympathetic, not judging or blaming her. Yes, the ideal person!”
“I’m glad she did. I really felt sorry for her. All that bad behaviour when she first came – it was really Malcolm Hardy’s fault, telling her how he wanted her to ‘keep an eye on things’ was how he put it. And she was so besotted with him. I don’t think she’d had a real boyfriend before and I think, because he was much older, and what she thought of as sophisticated, she fell for him really heavily. She’d have done anything for him.”
“Oh dear!”
“That’s why she took it so badly, I suppose – about the baby, I mean. I don’t think it occurred to her that he wouldn’t be delighted, so she was absolutely shattered when he wanted her to have an abortion.”
“How dreadful for her.”
“Well, apparently when she told him she wouldn’t he broke with her completely. You can imagine how hard it must have been for her to go on working at the surgery, but of course she had to because she needed the job.”
“Surely he would have provided for the child?”
“He said how could he be sure it was his, which was completely ridiculous because she never looked at anyone else! Like I said, she adored him.”
“So how were they, at work, I mean?”
“She wouldn’t take no for an answer, so there were rows all the time, and she was often late in because she felt so rotten – but of course we none of us knew anything about this. To be honest we just thought she was being unpleasant, while all the time she was going through all that. It makes me feel really mean!”
“Well, how were you to guess? Anyway, from the way she’s confided in you it looks like you’ve been a good friend to her now.”
“I just feel sorry for her. And on top of everything else she didn’t want her parents to find out – as you said, I gather they’re a bit difficult, so she had to keep it all a secret and I know how hard that is.”
I decided to
take a chance. “Because of you and Ben?”
She gave me a startled look.
“What do you mean?”
“You and Ben,” I repeated. “Having to keep that a secret.”
She stood for a moment silently watching two gulls screaming overhead in a dispute over some piece of seashore detritus.
“How did you find out?”
I told her about seeing Ben at Iolanthe. “The expression on his face was unmistakeable,” I said.
Her lips curved in a smile. “He was so sweet about that,” she said. “Listen, we can’t talk out here, it’s too cold. Come over to the flat.”
“Right. I’ll just put Tris in the car, he’s covered with sand.”
Sitting at Kathy’s kitchen table waiting for the kettle to boil I said, “Look, perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken to you about Ben.”
“You haven’t told Mother?”
“No, of course not. Kathy, I really wasn’t being interfering, it’s just that I’m fond of you and I wanted, well, to sympathise I suppose. I do like Ben and I do understand how dreadfully difficult it must be for you both.”
“No, I’m glad you did. It’s a relief, really, to have someone I can talk to about it.”
“Any time, you know that.”
“The worst thing was when Malcolm Hardy found out about it.”
“How awful! How did that happen?”
“I was feeling a bit low because things seemed so hopeless, you know, and Ben had his arm around me. It was out at the back in the surgery and Malcolm Hardy came in and saw us.”
“So what happened?”
“Oh, he was very casual about it then, but later he used what he’d seen to blackmail Ben.”
“What!”
“When he sacked him. Ben could have made things awkward – well, he’d been there a long time, there are tribunals and things – but Malcolm Hardy said that unless he went quietly he’d tell everyone about us.”
“That man was even more vile than I thought!”
“Obviously I didn’t want Ben’s daughter to know, though he says that she’d understand, but I couldn’t take the risk. And, to be honest, I didn’t want Mother to hear about it. Dad would be fine I know, but…”
“Yes, I know. She won’t hear about it from me. Actually, though, I think she would accept it, it’s just that it might take a little time.”
Kathy laughed. “You may be right, but I don’t want to risk it – not yet at any rate. And I didn’t want people to gossip about us and that sort of thing. So you do see how miserable it was for us both. When that wretched man died we both felt so relieved. Isn’t that awful?”
“No,” I said, “it isn’t, it’s quite natural – I’d certainly have felt the same. Anyway, you weren’t the only ones to feel like that. He’d been making quite a few people’s lives a misery.”
“It’s just…” She hestitated. “Just that if anyone knew about Ben and me they might think we had a motive for killing him.”
“What rubbish!” I said roundly. “Anyone who knows either of you would never believe you could do anything like that, you’re simply not capable of it!”
“You’re my friend,” Kathy said, “so you naturally think the best of us. But it was a motive and we were both there when it happened.”
“So was Julie,” I said, “and Diana, and Keith – they all had motives. Think about it.”
Kathy poured the tea and handed me a cup. “I suppose so. It’s just that we’ve both been brooding about it so much.”
“You mustn’t get things out of proportion,” I said.
“It’s hard not to. We both feel so guilty all the time.”
“That’s nonsense,” I said firmly. “You’re not hurting anyone. Ben isn’t betraying his wife – the sad fact is that she doesn’t exist any more as a person. And you’re a free agent. All right, I know people might make snide remarks, but anyone who did wouldn’t be worth bothering about. Actually, I think you should tell Ben’s daughter. I know she loves him very much and I’m sure she’d want him to be happy. She’s a sensible girl and she knows that her mother wouldn’t be hurt now. It would be different if you and Ben had got together before she deteriorated, but I’m sure you didn’t and I think she’d understand the way things are now.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I couldn’t bear it if she turned against her father because of me.”
“I don’t think she would. But perhaps if Ben sounded her out – you know, asked how she would feel if – that sort of thing, just testing the waters.”
She looked doubtful. “Perhaps. I’ll see what Ben thinks about it.”
“I know you’d both feel better if she accepted the situation. Meanwhile,” I said, “just enjoy being together!”
Kathy smiled. “It’s so good – even as things are. I’m so lucky to have found him, and it’s wonderful that he won’t have to go away to find another job. That’s why it would be so awful if anything went wrong now.”
“I’m sure everything will turn out right,” I said.
“Well, as I said we’re lucky to have what we’ve got. Not like poor Julie.”
“She’ll have her baby.”
“But no father, and how will she be able to tell the child when it’s old enough to understand that its father never wanted it?”
“I know, it’s a dreadful situation. But perhaps now her parents know they’ll be supportive.”
“Her mother’s not sympathetic at all, she called her a little fool – can you imagine! And her father just wants to get any money he can out of Malcolm Hardy’s estate. Poor girl, she really doesn’t know which way to turn. I think she actually wants to come into work just to get away from them.”
“I thought she looked quite ill the last time I saw her at the surgery, though, of course, I didn’t know then that she was pregnant.”
“I don’t think she’s having an easy time,” Kathy said. “She’s been sick an awful lot and she hadn’t been going for her check-ups until I made her.”
“Good for you.”
“I feel really sorry for her. She’s made a mess of her life so young. At least I waited until I was nearly middle-aged!”
“Oh, come on. You haven’t made a mess of your life and you’re still young and attractive – you ask Ben!”
She laughed. “Thank you, Sheila. You really cheer me up.”
“Well,” I said, getting to my feet and gathering up my bag and hat, “just you remember what I said. Enjoy your life together.”
When I got home, after I’d brushed the sand out of Tris’s coat and off his paws, I started to make supper. Foss, who was punishing me for having been out with Tris and leaving him alone, weaved back and forth on the worktop getting in my way and dabbing his paw under the tap while I was trying to wash the potatoes. Eventually I had to shut him in the sitting-room with a handful of cat treats (and some biscuits for Tris so that he didn’t sulk) so that I was able to get on in peace. Not just to prepare the food, but also to consider my conversation with Kathy.
It was obvious that she and Ben were very much in love and she was right, it did (given that Malcolm Hardy had tried to blackmail Ben) mean that they had a motive for murdering him. I had seen for myself the intensity of Ben’s feelings for her and today I’d realised just how deeply she cared for him. Still, I knew – I really knew – that Kathy wasn’t capable of such a thing. But, given all the circumstances, could I be equally sure about Ben?
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
For some maddening reason I couldn’t find my Christmas card list. I usually take down the cards, list their senders and put the list and cards away in an old shoe box until I need them next year. It is one of my few bits of proper organisation and I’ve always been rather proud of it. But although the cards were there in the shoe box (on the top of the wardrobe in the spare room along with the box containing practically every Christmas decorations we’ve ever had since Michael was a child) there was no sign of the list. If I was going to know ho
w many cards to buy – time was getting on and the best charity cards always seem to get snapped up by the middle of November nowadays – it looked as though I was going to have to go through the cards again and make a new list. With a sigh I began looking through them. It is always interesting to match the card to the sender. Usually one can guess the sort of card each person will send; Old Master reproductions of the Nativity from some, designer angels in mauve and silver from others, quite a few snow scenes (though I can’t remember when we last had a white Christmas in Taviscombe), many “jolly” cards, with anthropomorphic penguins, polar bears and geese, and, of course, the occasional Santa Claus, divorced from his St Nicholas persona and usually in the company of cartoon-type reindeer. Occasionally though, there is a surprise. My usually austere cousin Hilda, for example, abandoning the habits of a lifetime (a tasteful Raphael or Rubens), had, under the profound influence of the new love of her life (a cat called Tolly), sent me a card featuring a Siamese wearing a Santa Claus hat and carrying a sack full of toys appearing round the side of a chimney. The message (in silver glitter lettering) read “Have a miaouwvellous Christmas”. I put it aside with a smile and continued my task.
