A Family Scandal

by Kitty Neale

  ‘So … so … Larry, what you’re saying is … your mate Fenton and his accomplices have got hold of some weapons, hidden them, and when Tommy’s sent down they’re going to use them on him?’

  ‘Blimey, Dumbo, maybe you’re not so thick after all.’ Larry pretended to clap. ‘That’s exactly it. I managed to let it be known that your darling Tommy made the phone call that got Fenton banged up. Of course he isn’t happy that Tommy got the information about him because of me and my big mouth, but I’m not too worried about that. Fenton and his cronies can’t touch me while they’re in prison, and I can soon disappear again when they get out.’ He stretched and smiled. ‘Still, at least they’ll be delighted to take some of their revenge out on Tommy. They’ve still got a few mates on the outside that I’ve managed to steer well clear of, and some of them in uniform have done what they could to make things difficult for Tommy while he’s been on remand, making sure he was moved from place to place. But that’s nothing compared to what Fenton and his mates will do to him when he’s on the inside proper. It’ll give them something to look forward to and who knows, it might take the heat off me. Your man thinks he got them all turned against me but let’s see how funny he finds it once he’s in their hands.’

  Mavis stood up straight. ‘Did you get all that?’

  Larry looked puzzled. ‘Get all what?’

  There was a noise from further down the hall and Rhona emerged from the staircase, swinging her handbag. ‘Yeah, got the lot. Clear as anything.’

  ‘Who are you? What do you mean?’ Larry blustered. He was thrown off his stride by this other young woman. He was happy to bully one at a time but he didn’t fancy taking on two. And this new one looked like trouble.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who I am,’ she said, ‘but I know who you are. I’ve heard a lot about you and there are quite a few people who’d like to know you’re back, ain’t there? So don’t you go making threats to Mavis.’

  ‘I’m not worried about a couple of bloody women,’ snarled Larry, unsure which of them to look at.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ Rhona shrugged and tossed back her hair. ‘We’ll just tell the police about your friend Fenton and let them know how we came by the information. It’s up to you.’

  Larry laughed derisively. ‘Yeah, right. As if they’d believe you. They can come looking for me if they like, I’ll deny everything.’

  Mavis nodded. ‘Yes, you can try. But I think you’ll find they will definitely believe us.’

  Larry glared at her as if she was still the stupidest girl in the class. ‘Dream on, Dumbo. You was always good at making up stories. The police have got nothing on me and you can’t change that. If it’s my word against yours, with your boyfriend accused of murder, who do you think they’ll believe?’

  ‘Tell him, Rhona,’ Mavis said.

  Rhona pulled what looked like a little black plastic tube out of her bag. ‘See this? Do you know what this is?’

  Larry barked out a laugh. ‘Somewhere you keep your make-up, is it, darlin’?’

  Rhona shook her head. ‘Oh, no. It’s way better than that. It’s a microphone.’

  Larry shook his head in bafflement, none the wiser.

  ‘It’s really clever,’ Rhona went on. ‘It picks up sound and records it on a little tape. When we play the tape to the police, they’ll hear every word you said and Bob’s your uncle.’

  Larry swung around, cornered. ‘They won’t know it was me,’ he said wildly.

  ‘But your name’s on it. If you remember, Mavis said your name several times so it’s got everything recorded that they’ll need.’ Rhona shrugged. ‘So, Larry, you’d better piss off back to where you came from, and we’ll make sure that this tape is good and safe. If you make any more threats against Mavis or anything happens to Tommy, you’re done for.’ She pointed at the street. ‘Better go before you say anything else.’

  Larry’s eyes darted here and there as if weighing up his options, but then he saw a man walking along the street and knew he couldn’t risk it. If they screamed it would attract attention, and he remembered from their previous encounter that Mavis wasn’t shy of fighting back. There were also two of them, along with the bloke drawing closer who might come to their rescue.

  Larry hesitated for another moment. He wasn’t totally sure what the younger one was talking about, but he’d heard of these portable tape things even though he’d never seen one. With a howl of frustration he ran off, but not before shouting, ‘You fucking bitch! Tommy’s fucking welcome to you. He’s going to be inside for life anyway and if he ever gets out I pity him coming back to a dozy mare like you.’

  Mavis collapsed on Lily’s sofa, trembling but elated at the same time. ‘We did it, Rhona,’ she said. ‘We got rid of him. I can’t quite believe it. We did it.’

  Rhona was too wound up to sit still. ‘I know. It was brilliant. How lucky was that, me bringing the tape recorder round to show you this evening? And you were so brave, just standing there and taking all his bullshit. I was afraid he was going to hit you and I’d be too far away to help.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so as well,’ Mavis admitted, ‘but he was too full of himself and thought he had me just where he wanted. You were so clever to follow me down like that. What a good job Jeff lent you that little machine. I know you were meant to use it to learn chords but the timing was spot on.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve gone and recorded over the tunes he did for me now,’ said Rhona, ‘but it don’t matter. I don’t know what it’ll sound like as I was so far away so you might not be able to hear what was going on. Still …’

  ‘As long as Larry thinks we recorded him saying all that, it won’t matter,’ Mavis said decisively. ‘The man’s a bully, and bullies are cowards. He won’t dare do anything now.’

  Rhona sank down on the sofa beside her. ‘We did it. Blimey, I’m sort of deflated now. It must be all that excitement.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I feel the same.’

  ‘We had better get back upstairs then. We can’t have you flaking out down here. It’s a big day tomorrow and you need your beauty sleep. You’ve got to do that painting for that woman, what’s her name,’ Rhona asked.

  ‘Yes, I know, and her name is Melina.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it. I thought she was going to be a bit of a mare to be honest. She looked a bit stuck up what with those glasses and the hairdo, but when you got talking to her she was all right. I don’t know what you’re so nervous about. You’ve got a knack for it.’

  Mavis laughed. ‘I don’t think so. It was worse outside Grace’s school when I tried to talk to her about her husband. I thought she made an excuse to walk away because she didn’t trust me, but now I know I was making a mountain out of a molehill.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we’ve all done that.’

  ‘In a funny way I’m looking forward to tomorrow. While I’m painting her, I might be able to dig a little to find out if she can tell me if her husband has made a decision about who is going to get the contract for the new housing project. Grace likes Melina’s little girl, and you never know, when Melina shows her portrait to her friends, it might bring me more commissions. There’s also that commission you got for me to paint Jean and I hope her fiancé will like it.’

  ‘He’s sure to.’

  Mavis stood up. ‘You’re right, we should go upstairs now in case any of the kids wake up and wonder where we are.’

  As they climbed the stairs, Mavis was still reeling a little from her encounter with Larry Barnet, and there had been other incidents that hadn’t been easy to shrug off; people pointing at her in the market, crossing the street to avoid her, women like Mrs Burns. Mavis thought she had grown a hard shell, but now found it cracking.

  When they reached the upstairs living room, Rhona took the portable recorder out of her bag. ‘I’d better make sure this is still OK.’

  Mavis looked at the small machine and said, ‘Do you know what, Jeff must think a lot of you to lend you that. They cost a lot, don’t they?’


  ‘Yes, I think they do, and maybe Jeff does really like me, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I’ll find out when I get the nerve to ask him out, won’t I?’

  Mavis looked at her friend, still surprised by the change in her. The old Rhona had never lacked confidence where men were concerned, but now she seemed vulnerable. Surely Jeff wanted more than friendship? Mavis hoped so.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was strange being back, thought Stan, the only guest now as he gazed around the quiet dining room at the B and B in Torquay. It was his first visit since the holiday. He hadn’t wanted to be reminded of how brilliant the holiday had been, marred by what had happened when they got back, with poor Tommy accused of murder. Stan had made excuses at work, inventing plausible reasons not to travel to Devon, but now it was autumn, out of season, and he’d run out of excuses.

  He hadn’t liked leaving Jenny, who was beside herself with worry about Tommy. There was also the constant threat hanging over Mavis and her family of losing their house. Stan had felt torn, wondering if he should give what savings he had to either Pete or Tommy. The decision had been made for him when he realised that Pete’s debt was for the full price of the house, and Tommy’s bail was set absurdly high. Even though he’d managed to put by what he considered a very respectable amount, it would barely scratch the surface in either case. He’d lent Pete a bit to buy him some time but there was no way he could do more.

  Stan sighed. He’d always been cautious, and in case of something unforeseen happening, he liked to have savings to fall back on. However, at this rate he fully expected to have Pete, Lily, Bobby, Mavis, James and Grace sleeping on his living-room floor before too long. They already had all Tommy’s belongings stored and were paying the fees, and although it wasn’t expensive and he didn’t mind, he had suggested to Jenny that Tommy’s mother, Olive, might like to make a contribution.

  Jenny wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I don’t even want to speak to her,’ she’d said. ‘My mum saw her the other day and she’s convinced that Tommy, her own son, is guilty of murder. She’s even going round telling anyone who asks. What sort of mother is she? I don’t want anything to do with her.’

  Stan wanted to believe in Tommy’s innocence but he was certain of one thing – Tommy would have done anything to protect Mavis and the children. Would he have gone as far as to murder Alec? He found it hard to imagine that his wife’s cousin, his own good friend, could have done something that cold-blooded, but the conversation they’d all had at Lily’s had opened the floodgates of doubt. How he wished he’d never said anything to him about Collier’s real identity, or at least waited until they’d all got home. Too late now.

  Mrs Hawkins came in with a plate of hot food: a steaming beef pie with carrots and peas on the side. It smelt wonderful. She set it down before him and then sat opposite.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me joining you,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I’ve eaten already but it can get lonely now that it’s out of season, rattling around this big house on my own in the evenings.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ said Stan, ever the gentleman. ‘It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.’

  Something seemed to be bothering her. Eventually she spoke again. ‘I do hope I did the right thing,’ she began.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Stan, wondering whatever could have worried the usually calm landlady.

  ‘When the police came. To ask about … you know. What happened on your last night here, I didn’t know what the police were after or I’d have been more careful.’ She was almost crying. ‘I can’t bear to think of that lovely man in prison and his poor family having to manage without him. They all seemed so happy.’

  Stan sighed. Yes, they had been happy that holiday. Mavis and Tommy had had a glow about them. Anyone could have seen it.

  ‘I only told them that Mr Wilson left just after dinner, and that he had ordered a taxi to go to some sort of business meeting. Surely that wasn’t what got him arrested?’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs Hawkins,’ Stan reassured her. ‘They’d have found out sooner or later. It was the taxi driver who came forward, and he told the police that he’d seen Tommy on the path looking as if he was having a row with Alec, and how long they were there. That sealed it, I reckon.’

  ‘He might have had a row with the man, but it doesn’t mean he pushed him off the cliff,’ the landlady protested. ‘There has to be another explanation. I have had many, many guests over the years and I think I’ve learned to be a good judge of character. Mr Wilson is no murderer, I’d stake my life on it.’

  His mouth full of the last bite of pie, Stan nodded, hoping that the woman was correct. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about – but he couldn’t put it out of his mind.

  ‘Would you like some apple crumble?’ she asked sadly. ‘I’ll make some custard if you want it.’

  ‘Thank you, but no. The pie was delicious and I’ve had more than enough to eat,’ Stan said. He felt sickened just considering the possibility of Tommy pushing Alec over a cliff. Not that the odious man didn’t deserve to be punished for what he’d done to Mavis and his own children, but surely Tommy wouldn’t have gone that far. ‘I might just go for a bit of fresh air, take a little walk down to the seafront.’

  ‘Surely you’d like a nice cup of tea first?’

  Stan shook his head, standing up. ‘Maybe later.’ He didn’t want to be rude to this kind woman who’d done so much for him and his family, but suddenly he couldn’t stay inside a moment longer. Being in this house brought it all back and he couldn’t control the suspicions that were whirling around his head.

  Hurrying out, Stan let his feet take him along without thinking where he was going, and before too long he found himself down near the seafront. It was cold, yet he didn’t care. He saw the peculiar stamp shop, its front all shuttered and locked now, with a ‘To Let’ sign above the door, looking the worse for wear, battered by the onshore wind. Stan wondered who would rent it. Would they worry about the previous occupant having fallen to his death? Would it put off customers, or would people soon forget?

  Standing there, listening to the sound of the sea, thinking about the time he’d come to this very spot with Jenny and they’d laughed at the building, he didn’t notice at first that there was a light on in the shop next door. Then the shadow of a figure passed across the front window. Stan blinked, wondering if he’d been mistaken. It was getting on; not many places were still open around here at this time of the evening. Then he remembered that this place sold tobacco. He could do with a smoke, and as Jenny wasn’t here to tell him off, it was worth a try.

  His feet were numb with the cold as he went across to the shop door and tried it. It didn’t open. Not wanting to give up now he could see the rows of cigarettes behind the counter, he knocked on the glass panel. The figure reappeared and he could tell it was the same man as last time, the one he’d spoken to in the summer.

  ‘What do you want?’ the man asked, cautiously opening the door. ‘We’re shut.’

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Stan, his teeth chattering after standing in the biting wind. ‘I saw your light on and wondered if there was any chance of a packet of fags? I’m down here on business and I’ve run out. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.’

  The man looked at him and then appeared to take pity on him. ‘Oh I suppose you can have some,’ he said wearily. ‘Come in and shut that door behind you. That wind is perishing.’

  Stan gladly obliged and followed the man over to the counter.

  ‘I’ve seen you before,’ the man said.

  Stan was impressed. ‘You’ve got a very good memory. Yes, I was here in the summer, yet I only came in once.’

  ‘I do have a good memory as it happens,’ the man said. ‘Packet of Embassy, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Blimey, fancy you still knowing that,’ said Stan, amazed.

  ‘Well, I remember that day particularly well because it was the very day I got called away, and just after selling y
ou those cigarettes,’ the man said. ‘Normally I wouldn’t dream of shutting up shop in the height of the summer season, but my dear old mum was taken ill and I had to go to her. I’m glad I did, we had that time together before she passed away, God rest her soul.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Thanks. I only got back this afternoon. My nephew took over for me and kept things going but will you look at this?’ He indicated a large pile of envelopes, leaflets and catalogues which looked about to fall over. ‘He didn’t open a single letter. This has all built up since August. It’s not that I’m ungrateful, but he might have missed an important bill. I can’t afford to annoy my creditors. Reputation is everything in business, you know.’

  ‘I completely agree,’ said Stan, beginning to wonder when he could escape. Still, it was warm in here and as the man had done him a favour, he didn’t begrudge him a bit of conversation.

  ‘Honestly, he hasn’t even divided it into official and personal,’ grumbled the man. ‘That’s from the electricity company, and that’s water rates … that’s a postcard from my sister, you’d have thought he’d have put that separately … that’s a circular, he could have binned that, he knows what I think of them … now what’s this?’ He had come to a handwritten envelope with no stamp. ‘That writing looks familiar. It’s from my neighbour if I’m not much mistaken.’

  ‘Your neighbour?’ Stan felt as if an icy finger was touching the back of his neck.

  ‘Yes. Alec Pugh. Maybe you’ll have read about him in the papers? A sad affair, though it’s old news now. He ran the shop next door, which I seem to recall you were interested in, was discovered at the foot of some nearby cliffs. I only heard after I left, as I must have gone that very same day, and I was terribly shocked. Mind you, he had been acting out of character the night before. He was usually so quiet.’