Dorothy Eden (46 page)

“If I make it.”

“You’ll still make it, if necessary,” said Abby. It was surprising how happy she felt this morning, in spite of the difficulties and likely dangers ahead. Now she was really married. Now she had the husband she had expected and wanted. She was very happy indeed.

She tried not to let her eyes finger too long on Luke’s eased and well-loved face. She had to remain calm and intelligent.

“Deirdre hasn’t been down this morning. That’s not like her, to neglect looking us over.”

“I thought she annoyed you.”

“She does, too, but I’ve sort of got fond of her.” Abby went out on the patio to look for the kookaburras. They sat faithfully on the jacaranda tree, watching her. They looked fat and well-fed and bathed in the morning sun.

“They’re really awfully cute,” she said. “I’ll miss them when we leave here. Even if they do laugh at me.”

She went on round the house to look at the geraniums she had planted, and Jock gave her a friendly wave from his boat.

“I watered them,” he shouted.

To her surprise she found herself waving back quite happily. Even old Jock, the parasite, had no terrors for her now. Then she thought of the fish-faced man, and wondered where he had spent the night. All the way home yesterday, especially after it was dark, she had thought a car had followed persistently a long way behind.

Perhaps he had slipped down to Jock’s boat, late. In that case Luke might be right that she shouldn’t linger outside.

But no one would shoot a woman in her own garden, in a busy suburb. An accident in the open countryside was another thing altogether.

No, they’d try another way next time.

For all her happiness, Abby shivered. She went rather quickly inside, forgetting Deirdre.

“When are you going to the office, Luke?”

“I’m not.”

“As far as the Moffatts are concerned, you are. You must leave at the usual time and take Lola. I’ll be coming to do some shopping in the city. It’s easier to travel in early with you than to go by ferry later. When we’ve dropped Lola we can start on our own affairs.”

“If this is a woman,” Luke said, “that places a different angle on it altogether. Rose Bay. A pseudonym, of course. A good password for customers. I wonder. You may be right.”

When Lola didn’t appear at her usual time Luke said they would call for her. He noticed that Abby was wearing her red suit and said she looked charming. Abby didn’t explain that wearing it was all part of getting her courage back and lending normality to the day. What did it matter if it made her conspicuous?

She sat in the car while Luke got out and rang the Moffatts’ doorbell.

After some time Mrs. Moffatt appeared, still in a long woollen, rather grubby dressing-gown, Her hair looked more frizzled than ever and her brown eyes moist and anxious. She fingered at her throat, missing her strings of beads.

“Lola’s gone,” she said. “She’s taken Deirdre to school.”

“As early as this!” Abby exclaimed from the car.

“They had exams, or something. She was fretting about not being late. Deirdre, I mean. Lola said to tell you she’d get a bus this morning. Anyway, it’s saved Mary a trip. What with getting Milton’s things ready for hospital, she hasn’t really got the time. You look pretty, Abby. Pretty and gay.”

There was an air of forlornness about the little figure in the soiled dressing-gown. But Abby wouldn’t let herself be moved by it. She had another anxiety.

“Luke, Deirdre’s never yet fretted about being late for school,” she said as they drove away. “She’s done everything possible to be late. And if I know her, she’d be even later on exam day.”

“You say you know her.”

“I do, too. She’s a lot like I was as a child. Unpleasant and aggressive only because she’s shut out.”

“If you were ever unpleasant and aggressive, I’ll believe all the nice things you say about Deirdre.”

“Seriously, Luke. And why didn’t Lola call out and tell you not to wait for her? Let’s drive past the school and see if we can see them.”

Luke agreed, and drove over the hilltop, cruising slowly down the road past the school. There were the blowing gums sparkling in the morning light, the stream of hurrying cars, and the chatter of children on their way to school. A bus drew up and Abby put her hand on Luke’s arm to stop the car. They waited while a gaggle of children clambered down. No Deirdre. No slim, well-groomed Lola on her way to work in a smart beauty salon.

“We’ve missed them,” said Luke. “Anyway, it isn’t important.”

“No. I expect it was Lola who rushed Deirdre off early for some reason. Perhaps she just didn’t want her coming down talking to me.”

But she was remembering uneasily Deirdre’s histrionic words, “This is when I’ll be killed,” and finding it not so easy now to laugh at them.

She was also realising for the first time, and with shocking clarity, that by this time she herself should have been dead for nearly twenty-four hours. Her inquisitive eyes, her mouth, safely closed. She had come rudely awake from the happy dream in which she had been ever since she had discovered Luke’s true state of mind. A sense of urgency filled her. This was the baffling scene, with the glinting trees and the hurrying traffic and the uncaring children which she had experienced the day she had waited for Deirdre. It had led nowhere and she knew it would lead nowhere again.

“Let’s get on,” she said urgently. “I think we should hurry. I’ve a feeling—”

“What?”

“I don’t know. As if we must do something awfully quickly.”

“I’m with you.”

She couldn’t get rid of her tension as they drove into the city, sweeping over the great bridge and then up the wide thoroughfare to Kings Cross. She noticed that the rubber plant had been moved from the blue balcony, and a rather tatty fern put in its place. But the canary was still there, and it was singing. The shrill cheerful voice helped to dispel the ghosts.

“Luke, if I’d had the sense to ask in any more shops than those two, someone would have knows the Rose Bay Cosmetic Company, or seen their sign.”

“Probably. We counted on you doing exactly what you did. It was a risk, but it had to be taken. We didn’t think you’d go back there again. We all under-estimated you.”

“Oh, I can be inquisitive, too. Tell me, had you met that woman in the toyshop before?”

“No, I hadn’t. But I’ve only just been accepted in this organization. They don’t encourage meetings.”

“Well, I’m sure it was she who rang and told me to go to Rose Bay. She must have had some feeling of remorse, or something.”

“We’ll soon find out,” said Luke briefly.

They got out of the car and Luke took her arm.

“When we’ve settled this affair I’ll bring you up here to enjoy the Cross.”

Abby sniffed the scent of carnations. She saw a fruit vendor behind his magnificently stocked barrier of fruit smiling at her. She remembered the astringent kindness of the woman in the house with the rubber plant and the canary.

“I’ve got friends up here already.”

The black lace dress was still in the window, which scarcely surprised Abby. It looked too tired to be worn. In the shop the stupid girl was dusting the counter. She looked up, her mouth dropping open.

“Oh, it’s you again. If you want Miss Court—”

“We do.”

“She isn’t in yet. She might not be in today. She’s been all over the place lately, sometimes here, sometimes not.”

“Then what about her new assistant?” said Abby pleasantly. “The rather stout woman who’s just started work here.”

“Just started? Who do you mean? There’s only me and Miss Court. I mind the shop and Miss Court sews at home and comes in later for fittings.”

Abby felt a swift urge of excitement.

“Then we’ll have to see her in her home, Luke, won’t we? We can’t mess about like this any longer.” Her voice was firm and authoritative as she asked, “What’s her address?”

“I’m not supposed to give it, madam. Only to special clients.” The girl had begun to look nervous, catching their tension.

“I think you could call us special clients,” said Luke, curtly. “It will save us looking up the telephone book. What’s the secrecy, anyway?”

“She doesn’t like to be bothered at home. But if you insist—it’s 14 Beachey Road, Darling Point. And I hope you’ll explain you made me tell,” she called after them.

The house was one of a row of similar houses, shaped like a box and surrounded by a small and neglected garden. There were lace curtains at the windows. The place had something in common with the dresses Miss Court made, an uninspired and dispirited look.

Luke rang the bell, and it was only then that Abby wondered how they were going to open the conversation.

“We won’t beat about the bush,” Luke said, reading her thoughts. “We’ll ask for Rose Bay. There’s always a split second when a person shows reaction, even if she covers up immediately.”

After a long time, however, it was a very old woman who opened the door. She leaned on a stick. Her face was a mass of seamed wrinkles, the only surviving feature of any distinction the great pointed nose. Dim, washed blue eyes, half blind, peered at Luke and Abby. The petulant quavering voice that Abby remembered on the telephone said, “You’ll be looking for my daughter, I daresay. She’s not in.”

“The person we’re looking for,” said Luke clearly, “is someone called Rose Bay. Can you help us?”

There was no split second reaction, no reaction at all.

“You’re a long way out of your way.” The old knotted hand lifted the stick to wave vaguely in another direction. “This is Darling Point. Rose Bay’s miles away.”

“But it’s a woman we’re looking for, not a place.”

There was a faint reaction then, but only one of perplexity.

“There’s no one called Rose Bay here. You’ve come to the wrong place. Sorry I can’t help you. I’m no use to anybody now, you know. I have the arthritis so badly. My daughter—”

“When will your daughter be in?”

“I wouldn’t know that. She never tells me anything. She just says not to interfere. Nobody wants old people. We might as well be dead.”

She made to shut the door. Luke held it open.

“You are Mrs. Court, aren’t you? And your daughter is a dressmaker.”

Now suspicion flared dimly in the less faded eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“Only because my wife has been to the shop repeatedly, and never found Miss Court there. So can we come in and wait until your daughter returns? She isn’t in the shop so she can’t be far away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. First you want this other woman, then you want my daughter.” A ghostly firmness came into her voice. “What is your business?”

“I want to discuss getting some clothes made,” said Abby. “That girl in the shop is no use at all.”

“Oh, well, then you’d better come in. My daughter shouldn’t be long. I think she only went shopping. But she never tells me anything. She could just as well be gone for the day.”

The old creature limped slowly down the narrow hall and led them into a depressing sitting-room. With a great many sighs and exaggerated care she lowered herself into a basket chair and went on ruminating.

“It’s not right to be kept in the dark like this. My daughter has been brought up to be a good girl, but now she has these secrets. Men come at night. Oh, yes, they do!” Her arrogant nose lifted and challenged Luke and Abby to believe her. “I don’t make that up. I hear the doorbell and voices. I’m not completely deaf and blind.”

Abby heard the controlled excitement is Luke’s voice.

“Has Rose always been a good girl until lately, Mrs. Court?”

“Rose? Who are you talking about? My daughter’s name is Maud.”

“Then she has a friend called Rose?”

“This Rose Bay you’ve got on your mind? I don’t know who she is. Sounds like a fortune teller. I don’t think Maud’s silly enough to be going to a fortune teller at her age. Though she does have this craze for lipsticks and powders and things. You should see her drawer!” The old woman’s eyes glinted craftily. “She doesn’t know I looked. She left it unlocked one day. Well, what else have I to do? Doesn’t she know it’s a sad business sitting alone day after day? Not even allowed to answer the telephone because I get messages wrong! Oh, the old aren’t wanted, I’m telling you. We might as well be dead.” The old lady’s chin sank onto her chest. She had gone from them into a melancholy dream.

But all at once she roused herself and peered into the distance.

“Yes, I remember now. Someone asked for that woman on the telephone. That Rose Bay.”

And as if on cue the front door opened and the stout woman from the toyshop who had sold Abby the child on a swing came briskly in.

She saw Abby and Luke and stopped dead. Her eyes darted from them to her mother. All at once her face didn’t look plump, but thin and harried.

“Mother, have you been talking nonsense again? I hope you haven’t been believing what she said.” Her quick eyes had darted back to Abby and Luke. “She’s senile, you know. Well, what can I do for you?”

She had recovered herself. But the hand holding the shopping basket was clenched until the knuckles showed white.

“We’re looking for Rose Bay,” said Luke pleasantly. “My wife said you telephoned and told her to see Rose Bay. But the message has left us mystified. So we’ve come to you!”

“But you’re—” Too late the woman stopped. “I thought it was only her—”

“And that I was one of you,” finished Luke. “I was, to a point. But only to a point. Now the situation’s urgent and dangerous. Yesterday someone tried to kill my wife.”

“Kill!” The woman’s hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes momentarily showed horror.

“You thought she might be in some danger, didn’t you,” Luke went on kindly. “That’s why you telephoned that message. So now you can help us further. If you’re not Rose Bay yourself, who is she?”

The woman’s face went blank.

“I haven’t a clue. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. I also think you’re a nice person who’s got herself into this mess through an unfortunate weakness. You’re an addict, aren’t you, Miss Court?”

“No, no!” the woman whispered.

“Let me see your arm.”