Death of a Stranger (10 page)

“Constance would have known where to find your mother then. And she knew where to find her now, with the where and the when of her visit being advertised in the
Press
. If it was Constance who drove at your mother last night that could have been because fate had given her a second irresistible opportunity, and we can make sure she never gets a third. Anyway, she's tasted blood this time, so let's hope she finds that enough. If she did it, Tim. We have to keep saying that like a refrain.''

“I know. I try. There
is
one idea that makes it easier, but I don't want …''

“Yes?'' He had tailed off, and Anna saw the anxiety in his face as he dropped his eyes and leaned down to pluck a long stem of grass.

“Nothing. Forget it.'' Tim manoeuvred the grass between his thumbs and blew a piercing blast. “An old trick, I haven't tried it for years. Let's have another drink.'' He levered himself out of his deep chair and collected the two tall glasses from the grass.

It was the first time since they had got to know one other that Anna had been aware he had thought better of confiding in her. By the time the cold realisation had released her it seemed too late to persist. “Are you hungry?'' she heard herself asking.

“No,'' Tim said, considering in surprise. Eating seemed to be something he had forgotten about.

“Nor me, but I'll eventually get something together.''

His short absence was an opportunity to try to rationalise his rebuff. “Now,'' she said, when Tim was back in his chair and they had both sampled their refills, “Cliff was going to visit the Golden Rose for me tomorrow. When I go in in the morning I'll tell him I'll do it. It's natural enough, I saw the bitch through the birth.'' She raised her glass. “ Here's to justice, darling!''

Anna had expected this weekend, of all the weekends of her life, to be lived under the constant gaze of the man she had just married, but Tim was staring distractedly into the branches of the tree above him, and she had to repeat herself before he heard her and lowered his eyes.

“Yes,'' he said flatly. “ To justice.''

“What is it, Tim?'' Suddenly she had to venture. “What did you almost say just now?''

“I almost said … What if the car was coming for
him
, but he pushed
her
forward?''

“She'd have known. She's been so grateful that he pulled her back.''

“Which he could have done the instant the impact was over. Oh, I don't know. In different circumstances I think I'd like him. I want to believe what he tells me. But I can't quite manage it.'' The next day the weather was still set fair, and the blackened ruin of the greenhouse that had served as an extension to the Charters' rambling old house stood out shockingly under the cloudless blue sky. The nearest bushes were singed amber, but the unnaturally coloured circle scarcely eased the contrast with the general surround of prime trees and bushes in full summer leaf and flower. Normally Anna would have driven beyond the car-park and stopped outside the house door, but today she parked with the public and walked through the indoor sales area, expanding under the Charters into a place where more and more people now went to buy non-floral presents. It was still small scale, she noted, as it would have to be while the owners worked it entirely themselves, but the choice and arrangement of the objects for sale showed an assured talent for exploiting the retail gift market. The Charters would have been glad to sell their valuable pictures, if only to take on more staff …

When Marjorie Charters answered the bell she wasn't quite quick enough in changing her expression from alarm to relief to blankness: Anna noted each swift transition, and that her thin face had grown gaunt, the pale skin with a yellow tinge under eyes that seemed larger and darker than Anna recalled them, her flyaway fair hair looking dishevelled now rather than fashionably tousled. But it could be she was seeing what Simon Shaw's mission had encouraged her to expect to see. And didn't want to see, she realised with a flash of pity, even though proof of fraud by the Charters would give Shaw the boost he craved … Not for the first time, Anna wondered at Tim's comparative indulgence of Simon Shaw.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Weston.'' Marjorie Charters' voice was as weary as her appearance. “Or Mrs Le Page, I should be saying,'' she went on in the same monotone. “I saw the notice of your wedding to the detective inspector in the
Press
. Our congratulations. But I thought you would be on your honeymoon. I was expecting Mr Ozanne.'' No curiosity in the dull eyes, but that could as well be that her thoughts were elsewhere as that she knew why the bridal couple had stayed at home. And Anna had already observed enough of both husband and wife to be convinced that neither of them was stupid.

“We were, Mrs Charters.'' She blessed the bitch for her timely arrival, running out through the kitchen door with gold-fronded tail furiously waving. Response to her with fondling and loving looks would help to disguise a close scrutiny of her owner as she told her the news. “But on Saturday night my mother-in-law was knocked down in L'Hyvreuse by a hit-and-run driver. Fortunately she was dragged clear of the wheels but she's cut her leg badly and dislocated her shoulder. And she's very shocked, of course. So naturally we haven't gone away.''

“Oh, I am sorry!'' There was a hint of concern in the voice now, but that could be no more than a reflex of good manners. Anna studied Marjorie Charters' face in the intervals of her apparent engagement with the dog, and saw none of the surprise a guilty woman who was also clever would surely have feigned. “ In the Princess Elizabeth, is she?'' The high pale brow had creased before the question was asked, as if Mrs Charters was having to force her attention onto a matter outside her own concerns. Anna reminded herself that the loss of the pictures and the greenhouse was misfortune enough to dry up what at the best of times, she had suspected before that morning, would be a small stock of empathy.

“Yes. She'll be all right, but she'll be there for a few days.''

There was no further response, and after another word with the dog Anna straightened up and looked over to the ruin. “The
Press
said you lost some valuable pictures. I'm so sorry.'' That was all the
Press had
said. If Bernard Charters, in his apparent anguish, hadn't blurted the information out to the media they wouldn't have said that much. Unless, of course, Anna reflected, the amateur critic Henry Thomas had had a word with them. Judging by the little the
Press
had printed, he appeared to have kept quiet. But the Charters must have known he could talk, and if they were guilty of fraud they would surely have thought it politic to pre-empt him. Which could mean that Bernard Charters' outburst had been calculated …

Alarm again, as quickly gone. “ Yes.'' Marjorie Charters spoke calmly, holding Anna's concerned gaze until the boy came running out of the doorway behind her and stopped dead at the sight of the visitor, so abruptly Anna imagined the squealing of brakes. He looked questioningly up at his mother, his eyes huge with apprehension.

“You know Mrs Weston,'' Marjorie said, putting an arm round his shoulders. “ She's come to see Beauty. You're going to have to get used to calling her Mrs Le Page, she got married yesterday.'' The warmth of real awareness of someone else's disaster at last came into her face, reminding Anna that the first time she had met Marjorie Charters she had thought her attractive. “Heavens, how awful for you! The very night …''

“Yes. It
was
awful.'' She was going to take a gamble. “ The worst thing is that it happened in L'Hyvreuse, outside the Duke of Richmond where my mother-in-law's been staying. Whoever it was drove up from the lookout and so couldn't have been travelling at any speed unless they deliberately put their foot down.''

“But …'' The horror and disbelief were just what was to be expected from an innocent listener. “You're saying … Deliberately … But Mr Le Page's mother doesn't even live on the island, how could someone here—''

“Disturbed people have been known to hit out at anyone who happens to be around.'' Marjorie Charters hadn't been in Guernsey long enough to know about an old scandal which until the early hours of yesterday morning had appeared to be dead and buried. And anyway, Anna reminded herself, if she and her husband were guilty of the attack, it wasn't Lorna they had been after.

“Yes … She didn't see who it was, then?''

“No.''

It was impossible to tell if there had been anxiety behind the question, or if there was relief at the negative reply. “ You said someone pulled her to safety?''

“Yes.'' This question could mean innocence, or the extreme boldness of guilt. “ So the car didn't actually go over her. But she's very shocked.''

“Of course …'' Marjorie Charters' concern appeared to be reverting inwards. She looked down at the boy, still in the crook of her arm, his curiously light and now expressionless eyes fixed openly and without embarrassment on Anna's face.

“What are you going to do today, Benjamin? Why not ring one or two of your friends from school and ask them to come over?''

The boy jerked impatiently, returning his gaze to his mother. “I'm going to draw. I don't want any friends from school. Can I use the end of the new greenhouse where there aren't any plants? Please!'' He tugged at his mother's sleeve.

“All right,'' Marjorie Charters said, studying his face. “For the time being.''

“I'll take one of the trestle tables!'' he said, on an excited gulp of breath. He broke away from his mother, running his hands through his spiky dark hair as he set off the way Anna had come. “And I can put my things in that cupboard,'' he shouted, turning as he was about to disappear round the angle of the building. “There's lots of room.'' His stocky body broke into a run.

“He's self-sufficient for his age,'' Marjorie murmured, staring after him. Struggling now, Anna thought, to keep her anxiety out of her face. She wondered if Marjorie's optimistic summing-up of her son was for her own morale as well as for the information of her visitor.

“He plays a lot on his own, then?'' she asked casually, resuming her fondling of the useful dog, whose cold damp noise was nudging at her hand for attention.

“Yes.'' There was a faint air of belligerence in the monosyllable, as if Marjorie Charters was challenging Anna to tell her that solitary play was unusual or unhealthy. “ I think it's good for an only child to be that way, not relying all the time on other people to make his amusement.''

Not relying any of the time
, Anna suspected, from her observation of the boy as well as from what she had heard from a few different people.

“He'll be missing his study space in the burned greenhouse,'' she suggested. Benjamin had once taken her to see it. “ But I suppose you'll have the greenhouse rebuilt when the insurance company pays up.'' Anna smiled as she spoke, trying to look innocent and encouraging, and then trying not to show her satisfaction that Marjorie Charters had stiffened, the length of her body, to wary attention.

“Yes! And that won't be long!'' she said sharply. “Let me take you to the pups.''

“Of course.'' As she followed Mrs Charters into the kitchen, Anna knew she had got all she could hope for.

The puppies, including the runt, were doing well, and a quarter of an hour later she was getting into her car and answering her mobile.

“Anna? Can you come to the Princess Elizabeth?''

“Tim?''

“It's all right. Mother's all right, but she wants … Can you come?''

It might be all right, but he sounded upset. “Something's wrong.''

“Not exactly. But I'd like to see you here, if you can possibly manage it.''

“It was never more convenient, I'm just leaving the Golden Rose. Not entirely without profit.''

“Good.'' It sounded mechanical. “ I'll see you in a moment, then.''

Perversely, Monday was turning out to be considerably less busy than the understaffed Sunday, and the rest of her afternoon allowed space for the unexpected. Anna went straight to the hospital.

Lorna was sitting in her armchair, dressed to go out and looking composed and determined as well as almost restored to elegance. Tim was pacing the room and looking frustrated and cross. Both appealed immediately to Anna as she crossed the threshold.

“Anna, darling, tell this stuffy old son of mine …''

“Anna, for goodness' sake, help me talk some sense into Mother …''

“Please!'' Anna sat down on the bed. “What's this all about?''

The second dual outburst was won by Lorna, as Tim gave way with a frustrated waving of his arms and, breathing heavily, sank down beside Anna.

“I'm feeling quite well and strong again, and I'm going to face Constance Lorimer. That's all. But this son of mine—''

Tim was back on his feet. “ I popped in to see her, and found her ordering a taxi. Anna, can't
you
make her see what a ridiculous—''

“I don't behave ridiculously,'' Lorna said, with an enormous dignity only slightly diminished by her finding herself unable to stand without the support of the chair arm. “And I'm going to see Constance. I've agreed to go home straight from this hospital, Anna, and Constance is hardly likely to attack me again. At the moment, anyway.''

“For God's sake, Mother!''

“I need to see her, Tim. I'm so angry. I don't show it, so you probably don't realise, men only realise things they can see or hear or touch or smell. I'm not going to make a scene, I'm just going to tell her quietly and with dignity that she's the lowest form of human life ever created.''