False Wall

by Veronica Heley

  ‘I had an overwhelming urge to lie back down and sleep but I could smell gin, of all things. I hate gin. It makes me feel sick. I wanted to get away from the gin. I think I remember crawling up some steps, a lot of noise. Some woman asked me if I were ill and she helped me out through the side of the tent into the open air. I crawled into a hole somewhere … and that’s it.’

  Bea realized he must have been in one of the closed rooms off the corridor in the basement. So near to where she’d been! While she’d gone up the stairs to search for him, he’d crawled out into the party and fallen asleep in his own garden.

  ‘Amateurs,’ said Bea. ‘They shouldn’t have left you unguarded, not even for a minute.’

  ‘But why?’

  Bea told him why. ‘It was a plan to discredit you. Zoe, tell him about the phone calls you had.’

  Zoe was as precise as ever in her report, concluding, ‘But of course no one would have believed it of you.’

  Liar. People like to think the worst of anyone who has made a success of his life in terms of money or fame.

  Leon looked anxious. ‘What happened in the market place?’

  Zoe said, ‘Nothing, so far. The tale we concocted to explain your disappearance from the scene seems to have worked. Nobody who’s got food poisoning would be thinking about having sex. So far that line of defence has held. But one of your directors has got hold of the story, I don’t know how, and although I’ve tried to reassure him, you know what it’s like, he’ll pass the word on—’

  ‘I’ll need to speak to him. We need to make copies of the hospital notes which should confirm my story—’

  ‘Ah-ha,’ said Bea. ‘Is the snake in the grass at work so soon? Where did this man get the rumour from? Is he the person who put the Admiral up to destroying you? Someone you know? Someone working behind the scenes, against you?’

  Again Leon said, ‘But why?’

  ‘Perhaps he himself has been got at by someone? Is there anyone who stands to gain more by upsetting the deal, than by letting it go through? The under-bidder for the Far Eastern contract, perhaps? If you ask around, I’m sure you’ll find out.’

  Leon rubbed his chin. ‘One of the directors did want the contract to go to a different bidder, but to set up such a complex situation … I’m not sure that he’d be up for this.’

  ‘He doesn’t have to be,’ said Bea. ‘If someone with money says, “Who will rid me of this troublesome priest?” Or, in this case, “Who will wipe out my business rival?”, there will always be someone to do his bidding. There may be three or even four people between the original money-bags and the actual doer of dirty deeds.’

  Zoe didn’t want to be left out. ‘But would that person want to involve someone like the Admiral? That seems rather far-fetched to me.’

  ‘Well,’ said Bea, ‘we saw for ourselves that Admiral Payne’s house could do with some money being spent on it; and the wine – if you can dignify it by that term – that he served at the party was, to say the least of it, inferior. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out if he’s strapped for cash. And there’s all those members of his family living there …! It may well be common knowledge in his circles that he’s in trouble financially and the news has reached someone who has an urgent reason for discrediting you. The problem is, how can we prove it?’

  Leon thought about that. ‘I suppose I could start at the top and work down. Something’s bothering me. Bea. What was that about your swapping your ring for an ambulance?’

  Bea took his hand and put it to her cheek. ‘I’d do it again.’ She explained how she’d managed to get them away from the Paynes’ house with the help of their waiting staff. ‘I hope Sophy will bring the ring back some time. I said I’d give her five hundred pounds if she did so, but the ring is worth more than that, so maybe she won’t.’

  ‘So,’ he said, with the glimmer of a smile, ‘you didn’t go off with Piers?’

  ‘As if! Well, in a way, yes. I needed someone local whose phone number I knew by heart. I got hold of Piers, and asked him to contact Zoe … and then he got hold of Anna and Hari for me, and we all spent the night together. In different rooms, but—’ another deep breath – ‘there’s more bad news. My house is currently uninhabitable. Someone torched it. The firemen put the flames out but the electricity and the gas are off, and there’s considerable damage, particularly in the basement. It’s going to take a lot of sorting out.’

  ‘What?’

  Bea grimaced. ‘Yes, the agency will have to close until I can find alternative premises. My office manageress had hysterics when I rang to tell her what had happened. It rather surprised me that she’d go to pieces like that. She went into weepy-waily mode. Not helpful. I had hoped she get on to some estate agents and find us an empty office that we might move into within the week, say, but I’m not sure she’s going to be much help.’

  ‘I see,’ said Leon. ‘Of course, you’ll need some kind of rental agreement. Winston will be pleased, won’t he?’

  Zoe looked worried. ‘You want me to find another house for Mrs Abbot to rent?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Leon. ‘She’ll move across our two back gardens and into my new house. The agency closes for a couple of weeks, say, then reopens there.’

  Bea had half hoped he’d offer, but now that he had done so, she was uneasy. She acknowledged that the suggestion was reasonable, but somehow it didn’t feel right. She said, ‘That’s a very generous offer, but I’m not sure that I … You see, there’s one small snag. I don’t think the police will let me use your house yet. They haven’t finished digging up your garden. The tent’s still there.’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘If they’ve discovered human bones, then the house itself will be treated as a crime scene. They’ll have to have the floorboards up, and the drains, too.’

  ‘A fat lot of good that will do them.’ Leon was getting back to his usual decisive self. ‘The builders have had to take everything back to the brickwork, rip out all the old plumbing and electrics. The floorboards have all been replaced. There’s nothing original left for them to investigate. Zoe, get the architect and the project manager to explain it to the police so that Bea can move in when she wishes to do so.’

  Bea said, ‘No, I … What I really need is to borrow Hari for a bit. You see—’

  Zoe’s phone vibrated. She answered it, listened for a moment, switched her eyes to Leon, and said, ‘I think you should take this.’

  ‘Yes?’ Leon stood up, resuming his persona as Captain of Industry. He started to pace up and down, listening, and then talking.

  Zoe gathered herself together. ‘He’ll be wanting to take the next flight out.’

  Oh. Really? Bea didn’t like the sound of that. She tried not to show it, but she was unnerved by the idea that he could leave her while her house and business were in trouble. She swallowed something in her throat. Tried to joke. ‘Doesn’t he have a private plane yet?’

  ‘He considers that an unnecessary expense.’

  ‘Tokyo?’

  ‘Zurich.’ Zoe produced her own phone. ‘I’ll have his car round in half an hour. He keeps a bag already packed in his car for just such emergencies, and I have his passport with me.’ She spoke into the phone, short and to the point. And cut off the call.

  ‘Will you go with him?’ Bea knew, a second after the words had left her mouth, that she ought not to have asked that question, for Zoe treated her to a look of contempt.

  ‘If he needs me.’

  ‘You have a young child?’

  Yes, Zoe had resented that question. ‘Boarding school. Any more intimate questions, Mrs Abbot?’

  Bea tried the soft reply. ‘I was a working single mother myself. It’s not an easy life.’

  ‘I am a widow. My husband died. I understand you were divorced.’ Zoe’s tone was one of distaste. And yes, she’d meant the comment as a put-down.

  Bea thought of slapping Zoe, hard. But instead made a joke. ‘Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, surviv
ed. That’s the memory verse for Henry the Eight’s six wives. I never got beyond two husbands: one divorced and one died.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Zoe was not going to allow herself to see the joke, was she? She was not an easy person to like but, Bea had to admit, she was efficient.

  Leon came off one call long enough to say he needed to be in Zurich that evening, and would Zoe arrange … and then he was off on another call.

  Bea tried to relax. She told herself she was redundant in this situation. Not wanted on board. Leon was going to fly off into the blue and confer with Heads of Industry in far-flung corners of the world, while Bea Abbot was relegated to a footnote in his life, to be wined and dined and possibly wedded when he had time to come back for her.

  She felt bruised. No, wounded.

  In need of hospital treatment? Well, no. Of course not.

  She stiffened her shoulders. She would manage. She’d managed her life perfectly well without him all these years, and if she was now facing an unprecedented set of problems, well, she’d survive.

  Zoe was on her phone. Again. She held up her hand to attract Leon’s attention. ‘Your car’s outside.’

  Leon continued with his phone call but laid hold of Bea’s wrist and urged her to her feet, still talking. ‘Yes, yes. We can discuss that when …’

  Bea grabbed the bag of discarded clothing and his hospital notes while allowing herself to be towed to the exit. Zoe followed, also on her phone.

  Leon’s chauffeur-driven car was indeed outside in the car park, and drove up to collect them as they stepped into the open air. Bea wondered if Leon really meant to take her with him to the airport. He pushed her into the car ahead of him, took a seat and made room for Zoe to sit beside them. Still talking on his phone.

  Bea didn’t know whether to be amused or outraged. Was she being kidnapped? Did he really think she’d be prepared to fly off with him at a moment’s notice, leaving her business and house in pieces, to hang around in a foreign city while he went to this meeting and that? She was no bimbo whose sole function in life was to soothe his fevered brow and provide him with exercise in the bedroom.

  Besides which, she was not one to run away from a problem.

  He clicked off his phone. Zoe had another call ready for him to take, but he waved her aside and turned to Bea. ‘Zoe will bring you out a rental agreement for the house at a peppercorn rent. She’ll put you in touch with the project manager and he’ll ease your way in. You can come out to join me in a few days’ time, when you’ve sorted out the insurance. Take this, my platinum card. PIN number: Winston Churchill’s birthday. Get some cash on your way home. Get yourself a new phone, one with fingerprint access for security. I’ll switch to a new phone, just in case the old one’s been tampered with. Unlikely, but possible. I’ll let you have the number. I’ll drop you at the next tube station. I may be back this evening, or I may have to go on to Berlin. Whatever happens, I’ll ring you tonight. All right?’

  She wanted to say that she was perfectly capable of running her own life, thank you, but she didn’t want to quarrel with him. Not then, anyway. She said, ‘Throwing money at a problem doesn’t always solve it.’

  ‘Acknowledged. But it oils the wheels. This is a good opportunity for you to take a break. I’ll buy you a ruby for an engagement ring, shall I?’

  Rubies were not high on Bea’s Must-Have list. She said, ‘No, no.’ She quoted, ‘“Diamonds are a girl’s best friend”,’ and hoped he was listening.

  While he took yet another phone call, she started to make a list. What was first on the agenda? A new phone. Some cash. And then, she had to decide what to do. If she decided not to abandon the agency to follow him abroad … No, ridiculous. Closing the agency was the only sensible thing to do.

  On the other hand, she could well imagine the dismay her staff would be feeling if she had to close, even temporarily. They needed their jobs. Would her insurance cover their wages if she had to close for a couple of weeks? Even if it did, one or two of them would undoubtedly drift away. They couldn’t afford to be unemployed. But if she stayed … what could she do?

  Would Hari agree to help, because if so …? She would ring him as soon as she got hold of another phone. And some cash. And … she began to compose a list of phone calls to make.

  Sunday lunch

  Anna opened the door to Bea, saying, ‘I’m just dishing up. We won’t talk business till we’ve eaten, right?’

  Bea said, ‘I can’t remember when I last ate a meal I hadn’t cooked myself. I don’t count takeaways.’

  Anna said, ‘A treat for us both. Peppered steak, a jacket potato and green salad, to be followed by Wensleydale cheese and biscuits. You haven’t been here for a while, have you? So you may admire the improvements Hari has been making to the kitchen and bathroom while I dish up. I thought we’d eat by the French windows overlooking the garden, if it isn’t too draughty for you.’

  ‘Delightful,’ said Bea, meaning it.

  They ate. And it was good.

  ‘And now we’ve done the polite bit,’ said Anna, clearing away, ‘we can get down to business. Coffee? Black?’

  ‘Please.’ Bea relaxed, closing her eyes while Anna bustled about her housewifely duties. Bea thought she’d always remember this respite. Time out, eating a good meal with a friend, overlooking a small but pretty garden. So peaceful. Perhaps one day Bea would have a pretty garden again. Without a mature tree in it. The sycamore had shielded her from the sun, which was fine in summer but had made the garden feel damp in cold weather. Perhaps she’d get a designer in, to show her what she could have in future?

  When Anna placed the coffee before her, Bea said, ‘This has been a lesson to me. I thought I was the strong one, who propped everyone else up when they were in trouble. I thought I could manage anything life threw at me. I was wrong! To my amazement, I find myself accepting help from all sorts of people.’

  Anna smiled. ‘It’s payback time for your having been so good to me when I was in trouble. This morning I thought you were on the verge of giving up, perhaps of retiring and letting Leon take over—?’

  ‘When he might find a moment to spare for me? Yes, I did think of giving up until I went down into the agency rooms and saw Carrie’s jacket, and the pot plant another of my girls had brought in. Not that plants ever thrive down there. It started me thinking that if I gave up I’d put my staff out of work, too. I couldn’t do that. Then I began to work out how I might keep the agency going—’

  ‘Without moving it into Leon’s house?’

  Bea tried to look innocent. ‘I didn’t think Winston would approve.’

  Anna laughed. ‘I expect he would have made the best of it. Maybe I’ll get a cat one day, when I retire. But not yet.’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea to have a cat, not at all. Winston adopted me, not I him. Perhaps it was the thought of what might have happened to him in the fire which got me so angry and made me want to fight back.’

  ‘If you were a normal person with a due care for the preservation of your skin, I suppose you might go to a hotel and let the police and the insurance people sort things out, but—’

  ‘The insurances! The hassle! The forms! The waiting in for people to call, who don’t come when they should! Then getting three or more estimates for repair, and arguing with builders and electricians and … let us groan!’

  Anna groaned in sympathy. ‘I know. More coffee? No? So, are you ready to resume battle?’

  Bea stretched. ‘You know me so well. Yes, I’m ready.’

  ‘Hari said not to let you back till two o’clock and it’s about that now. So, shall we make a move?’

  NINE

  Sunday afternoon

  As Bea and Anna approached the house, they spotted two men carrying a large carton up the steps.

  Bea quickened her pace. ‘Is the new furniture being delivered already?’ She ran up the steps and into the hall. The splintered wood of the door had been replaced, and new locks fitted. A repaint job was needed, b
ut that could wait. There was a light film of dirt over everything in the hall. There was so much gunk in the air, the house would need cleaning every day for weeks.

  Hari bobbed up from nowhere, shutting off his smartphone. ‘Mrs A, you’re back earlier than I expected. I know I said two o’clock, but I did hope to be further on before this. The insurance people took their time—’

  ‘You managed to get the insurance people to come out on a Sunday morning?’

  ‘By charm, and the threat of your having to close the business if they didn’t visit today. I pointed out that if they didn’t, it would cost them megabucks because you wouldn’t be able to keep the business open, and they’d have to pay for lay-offs, et cetera. So they managed to send someone straight away. I recorded his findings as I took him around and I’ll play it to you later.’ Hari swivelled to one side to let a man holding a pane of glass pass by him through to the kitchen.

  Then, ‘Mind your back, missus!’ An office chair swung past Bea into what had once been her living room but which, stripped of all her furniture and pictures, was so no longer.

  She’d asked for it to happen. Nevertheless it was a shock. Only the mahogany dining table, out of all the original furniture, remained in place by the front window. She’d asked Hari to have the rest of her sitting-room furniture taken up to her bedroom for storage. She could only hope they’d left her a pathway to her bed.

  She told herself to concentrate. How was she to create a workable office out of the chaos in front of her? It was a big room but it looked as if a bomb had hit it. Large men were attacking cardboard boxes, ripping up and folding cartons, piling up office units, chairs, computer systems … and a couple of large fire extinguishers.

  Bea told herself she was delighted to see the fire extinguishers.