False Wall

by Veronica Heley

  She managed to get into the kitchen with Winston in her arms. The back door had been forced open and was hanging off its hinges, but a piece of ply had been roughly nailed into place over it and another fitted over the missing pane in the adjacent window. The farthest section of glass was cracked but intact, though cloudy from soot.

  Bea deposited the cat on the barely visible central unit. Cat food. Top left-hand cupboard. Everything felt gritty. Soot, probably. One sachet or two? Two.

  Scissors … where had her scissors gone? She knew perfectly well that she couldn’t open the cat-food sachets with her teeth. She’d tried that in the past and it didn’t work. People who took other people’s scissors and hid them should be consigned to the lowest region of hell. She tried the cutlery drawer and felt around inside. With care, so as not to cut herself.

  The men had disappeared. Where did men go when you needed them? They were calling to one another, fumbling around in the dark.

  Winston was alternately growling and yowling, informing her that he was seriously distressed. He’d had an abominable day, what with the tree falling when he was in it, the fire and the water and then her not being there. She knew she was crying, but hadn’t time to find a hankie. Or a tissue. Let the tears come. What did it matter?

  She abandoned the cutlery drawer to feel around for the knife rack over the sink. She located a sharp vegetable knife, and slit open the first sachet. She couldn’t remember where the cat’s dishes might be, so emptied the contents out onto the central unit. So what if there was soot on it? Winston fell onto the food. Of course he could see in the dark, couldn’t he? Not that it was ever that dark in London.

  That morning there had been blinds at the window and in the top part of the back door. Gone. All gone. The flames had found and destroyed door and window but hadn’t been able to get as far as the units. Perhaps the gas cooker might still work. No, of course it wouldn’t. The firemen had turned the gas off, hadn’t they? As a precaution.

  Winston butted her hand. He wanted the second sachet. She managed to get that open, too. She knocked into a stool and sat on it. It felt gritty but she couldn’t have cared less.

  She supposed she ought to find out what the men were doing and tell them to stop it. No, not stop it. Or, did she mean …? She didn’t know what she meant.

  Someone was knocking at the front door. What …?

  Then there was a rush of footsteps, and she was in someone’s arms. A woman’s arms. Someone who loved her. Hari had said he’d called her …?

  ‘Oh, Anna!’

  Tears.

  ‘You poor thing. Come on, now! Up to bed with you.’

  Torchlight in the kitchen. A male voice. Hari. ‘Ah, there you are, Anna. I’m not sure I can get the power back on, but with luck there’ll be some hot water in the tank if she wants a shower.’

  A lovely word, shower. Raindrops are falling from heaven …

  Pushed and pulled, she managed the stairs. Still in the dark. But not so dark, really. Into her lovely big bedroom. Nothing much seemed to have been affected here. The window was cracked but not broken. The blind still worked. Hallelujah. The stink was not as bad up here.

  Anna helped her undress and get into the shower … but oh dear, a power shower can’t work without power. Oh, well. Run water into the washbasin. Hari was right and there was still some hot water in the tank. Slosh, slosh, rub rub. That was better. A bit. Even if she did feel so unsteady that …

  ‘There you go! Into bed. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

  ‘But you …?’

  ‘I’ll be next door in the spare bedroom. If you need me, just call.’

  She knew she wouldn’t sleep.

  Leon, Leon, LEON! The agency. Her garden. Only yesterday … was it only yesterday or was it the day before? She’d thought that the fall of the wall was a tragedy. Now, she knew better.

  She couldn’t possibly sleep. Her eyes were wide open. She couldn’t close them. A great furry lump landed on her legs and worked his way up to her chin. Purring loudly. Settled down to wash himself. With every lick of his coat, he shook the bed.

  If she slept, she’d have nightmares. She knew it. Just knew it …

  Sunday morning, breakfast time

  And then, it was light.

  Someone was at her bedside, shaking her shoulder, calling her name. What was Anna doing there?

  Daylight. The blind was up and daylight flooded in. Winston had disappeared. What time was it?

  She smelled fire.

  She remembered and shot upright. ‘Leon?’

  ‘No, no. Don’t panic. So far as we know, he’s all right. Look, Hari’s got you a takeaway tea. Drink it before you do anything else.’

  Anna was fully dressed but looking anxious. Bea took the cardboard cup of tea and sipped it. Ugh. Sugar. Sugar was given for shock.

  ‘You’re sure Leon’s all right?’

  ‘I rang and said I was his fiancée. He’s still in the land of the living. I’ll phone again in a minute. Winston’s all right. I’ve just fed him. Piers and Hari stayed the night here in the top flat, but Hari can’t get the power back on. It’s a job for an electrical contractor. So we can’t even boil a kettle.’

  Bea sighed. ‘The freezer. The fridge. Everything in them will be spoiled.’

  Anna opened drawers, looked into the dressing room. ‘What would you like to wear? The smell’s not so bad up here, and the clothes in the drawers should be all right. It’s early still. Do you want to ring your office manageress to give her the bad news? Your landline doesn’t work … surprise! But I brought up your smartphone. Want to ring her?’

  Bea tried to switch it on. ‘This isn’t mine. It’s Sophy’s, and it needs a charge. Mine is downstairs with the other stuff we retrieved from the Admiral’s last night. I suspect someone will have run up a bill on it. I’ll look at it in a minute.’

  She could imagine the Admiral’s granddaughter, that bright young thing, amusing herself, using Bea’s phone to ring contacts in far-flung corners of the globe. And, when the power had began to run low, deleting everything in sight. But maybe not. Maybe Bea was maligning the girl. ‘The Paynes have a granddaughter who took part in the scam last night. Was it only last night? I seem to have lost track of the days. I think she may have “borrowed” my watch as well.’

  Anna laid out some clothes. ‘Bea, we think you ought to move out for the time being. If Hari can’t reconnect the electrical supply, it’s going to be a major job to get you back on line. There’s hot water in the tank at the moment, but the boiler won’t work without the pump and the pump won’t work without power. Ditto the gas stove. Windows and doors are going to have to be replaced, and everything in the house professionally cleaned. We think you should move in with me. And don’t argue.’

  Tears threatened. ‘I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t just abandon my home. I’ve lived here for so many years … Then there’s the agency. What am I going to do about that? No agency, no income. I need to decide all sorts of things, but I can’t think straight.’

  ‘You’re strong. You’ll survive.’

  Bea wasn’t so sure about that. She got out of bed. Her body was reluctant to move. Her joints were stiff. Anna vanished, leaving Bea alone. She went to the window and looked out through the cracked glass. More devastation. Tree in garden. Some of the branches nearest the house looked as if they’d been scorched, but at midsummer the leaves were full of sap, so the wood had hardly burned at all.

  The party wall was still down. The tent was still poised over the graveyard in Leon’s garden. No policemen had turned up yet. Well, it was Sunday morning, wasn’t it? Or was it? Yes, it was Sunday.

  The scaffolding around the back of Leon’s house was still in place, but through it his house gleamed bright in the morning sun. A bigger house than hers. With blank eyes for windows, no curtains, no blinds. Empty.

  Dear Lord, what would you have me do now? The agency – gone. My home – destroyed. Oh, they can both be buil
t up again, I suppose. But … it’s as if everything’s been wiped away. The past. Gone. What do you want me to do?

  Leon. Always and forever. In my heart.

  Dear Lord, you’re not going to let him die, are you?

  The woodwork on either side of the window felt cool to the touch. The flames hadn’t done much damage up here, but the woodwork would probably have to be replaced and repainted. The flames had risen up the wall from the patio below, seeking anything that would burn until, meeting an expanse of brickwork, they’d died. The whole back of the house would have to be attended to. Brickwork cleaned, possibly repointed. Window frames replaced. Glass renewed. And that was just the start of it.

  Hold on to the thought of Leon. He’s not dead. Anna said he wasn’t.

  I do love him. I hadn’t realized how much until last night.

  I can’t think straight. That threat to Leon’s reputation … Did I do enough to stop it? Zoe! I must ring her, straight away. Wait a minute, I don’t know how to contact her. Will her number be on Leon’s phone? Never mind that. Piers has her number. I must get dressed, get moving, get to the hospital …

  She clutched her head with both hands.

  I’m being torn in different directions. I don’t know what to do first.

  Go to Leon? Or do something about the agency and this house?

  And what about the Admiral and his lady? What they tried to do to us was horrific, and if Leon dies … Don’t think like that. He’s not going to die. But I shall have to deal with them some time.

  Dear Lord above …

  Everything that she’d relied on was in disarray. Her home, her business.

  Was God telling her that her life was to take a new direction? That she must move on into uncharted territory?

  She’d heard it said somewhere that now and then God shuts one door in your life before he opens another. The idea was that He shuts the first door – which can be very painful – to make sure you go through the new one.

  If that was so, then her old life was dead. She must let it go. She must step forward into the new. She stood there, praying for strength, for wisdom to know what to do, until she realized she was repeating the same words over and over, whereas what was needed now was action.

  She could, with difficulty, discern what that might be … provided Leon lived.

  She washed as best she could in tepid water, and dressed in the clothes Anna had laid out for her. Normally she would take time to make up her face, but today she looked at herself in the mirror and decided that she was looking her age, but so what! She was sixty-plus. Why bother to look fifty? She’d never gone in for Botox or face-lifts. Hadn’t thought it was a good idea. If it ain’t broke, don’t meddle with it. Enhance with makeup, but don’t interfere with what’s under the skin. If this was the new face she presented to the world, then so be it.

  Her hair had always been a natural ash-blonde and she did like to spend money on a good cut. She brushed her fringe sideways over her forehead. Yes, her hair still fell into the right shape.

  Her skin was good. Her eyes were unusual. Hamilton had been used to call them her ‘eagle’ eyes, because they were large and long-tailed. So, a swipe of mascara and a sweep of lipstick would have to do.

  If she was leaving, she needed to pack a few things. She took down a suitcase. Her bible went in first. She picked up her jewellery box. Ah … she stood stock still for a moment, remembering how quickly she’d exchanged her exquisite diamond engagement ring for Sophy’s help.

  Would Sophy bring it back? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Sophy could sell the ring for far more than Bea had offered to give her.

  She’d told the hospital that she was Leon’s fiancée, and made up a tale of having been robbed of her ring. So, it would be best to let her finger go bare. She did, however, hang the diamond pendant Leon had given her round her neck, and put her everyday watch on to her wrist. She slapped the jewellery case shut, and locked it.

  In went a pouch of basic makeup. Some all-purpose clothes were next. A holdall took some of her favourite shoes and boots. She’d always loved boots.

  She looked around. She’d loved this room. She’d loved this house. She’d be back, some time. Perhaps. But now she must move on.

  She took her luggage downstairs and left it in the hall. The air was surprisingly clear for a house that had been the subject of arson. Ah, now she could see why. The temporary fittings over the kitchen door and window were no longer there, which allowed a pleasant breeze to contend with the stink of fire. Hari and Piers were sitting in the kitchen, both on their phones, while Anna emptied the freezer and fridge into insulated boxes.

  Anna looked up and saw Bea. ‘I’ll take this food and put it in my freezer, shall I? I hate waste.’

  Winston was winding round Anna’s legs, reminding her that he didn’t like waste, either. Anna duly fed him some titbits.

  Bea said, ‘Thanks. Many thanks, to all of you. As you see, I’m on my feet again and ready to face whatever the day holds. Anna’s quite right. I shall have to move out of here for the time being. I am truly grateful to you for all you’ve done but I don’t want to ruin your weekend.’

  Anna said, smiling. ‘Oh, no you don’t. I seem to remember that some time ago when I was in a bad way, you took me in and looked after me like a mother hen. So now it’s my turn to look after you, and no arguments. It’s Sunday morning, and I’ve found enough in the fridge for breakfast. I’ve got milk and orange juice, bread and butter and cheese. Oh, and some ham. That do you?’

  Piers clicked off his phone. ‘I’ve nothing on for today. I was going to take a prospective client out for lunch, but I’ve postponed it.’ He took a good look at Bea and stilled. ‘I’ll paint you like that. Showing your age, showing your integrity.’ He flexed his fingers.

  Bea was by turns annoyed, touched and amused. ‘I haven’t any time to sit for you now, Piers. Even if you meant it, which I doubt.’

  Piers was off his stool, fiddling with his smartphone. ‘I’ll take some preliminary shots … just stand still for a moment … there! And now move around, turn around, to the left … and now to the right! Got it. I’ll paint you as the three ages of woman: the girl I met first, the woman you became and the crone that you will become. Perhaps with a door between, coming and going … I’ll make a start after breakfast.’

  Bea didn’t know whether to laugh or to hit him.

  Anna was wiping down the surfaces, putting food out. And, yes, Anna was actually laughing. ‘I think you look fantastic, Bea. You look real.’

  Bea managed a smile. ‘You mean that I look my age? Well, so I do. I have more important things to think about for the moment than how I look. What is the latest on Leon?’

  Hari picked that one up. ‘Anna rang again just now; they said it looked as if he were slowly coming out of his coma.’

  Bea felt a flood of gratitude. Praise be, Leon was going to live! She accepted a glass of orange juice. ‘Do we know if Zoe managed to stop the papers printing that awful story about him?’

  Piers said, ‘I’ve been in touch with her. She sounded pleased with herself, and I suppose she should be. She says there isn’t a sniff of trouble in the newspapers or on Facebook this morning. I told her you’d recovered some of Leon’s belongings but that he’ll need her to get him something to wear. She said she’ll meet you at the hospital when she’s picked some things up from his hotel.’

  Hari indicated a large plastic bag on the floor. ‘Bea, I’ve got your purse and phone here. What do you want done with them?’

  ‘Can’t think. It would be easiest to hand them over to the police and tell them what happened to us at the Paynes’ the other night. They have the facilities for taking fingerprints off the cards, and they can demand that the Paynes give them their fingerprints, too, which would help to substantiate our story that we were drugged and robbed. But then they’ll ask why the Paynes should do such a thing, and I’d have to say that I really don’t know. And the Paynes would bring out their story about Leo
n trying to molest an under-aged girl, and offer his DNA by way of evidence. I worry that if I go to the police, the moment the Paynes say “under-aged” sex, the police will focus on that to the exclusion of all else.’

  Hari helped himself to bread, butter and cheese. ‘I put on some gloves and had a look at your bits and pieces. Everything has been well handled. If you would like to spend a few quid, I know who could get us the fingerprints. We must already have a few of the family Payne’s prints on various items. Your shoes, for instance, will have been handled not only by the boy, but also by whoever took them off you. Also the box everything came in.’

  ‘That would be Lady Payne and her grandson, if that is what he is – name of Rollo.’ Bea had a second glass of orange juice. She wasn’t sure she could tackle solid food.

  ‘Your house keys, too. I wonder how many sets of fingerprints are on them?’

  ‘You mean they should have the fingerprints from whichever of the young men tried to break into the house last night and then set it alight?’ She tried a small piece of bread and butter. That went down all right, so she took some cheese as well.

  ‘Your makeup bag won’t have taken any prints, not that soft silk, but the makeup inside has been handled. I assume you don’t usually leave your lipstick lid off? No, I didn’t think you did. The lipstick’s smeared all over the inside of the bag. So someone else has handled it since you last used it. And if they’ve used your compact, there’ll be perfect set of prints there. I’ll need to take your prints for comparison, right?’

  Bea helped herself to milk. ‘It’ll be the Admiral’s granddaughter, by name of Venetia. I’m trying to get the generations straight. The Admiral and Lady Payne are the oldest and they occupy the master bedroom and en suite on the first floor. I don’t know his first name, but she’s Edith, and she has a sister who lives in the basement, name unknown. Then there are two other bedrooms on the first floor which show evidence of people staying there, though they were not occupied on the night of the party. A man and a woman. Members of the family whose main property is elsewhere, but who use the house when they need to stay in London, perhaps?