Drawing the Line (24 page)

‘It’s very kind of you,’ he said, stowing his brand new green petrol can between his feet.

‘You went out of your way to take me to the station,’ I said, ‘so I’m just returning the favour. And don’t thank me till we’re sure it is just a faulty gauge. It might be something more serious. In which case I shall take you somewhere you can phone from. I hope you’re not in a hurry? Because if you are, I could always drop you wherever and you could get a lift back.’

‘It was a meeting at the Cathedral. I don’t suppose they’ll miss me. What are you doing round these parts?’ he said, with the ease of someone used to making conversation with strangers: all those weddings and funerals, I suppose.

‘Looking up family,’ I said, wishing I hadn’t. Hadn’t said it or hadn’t done it? Either.

‘Always difficult, meeting people who might be related to you but are really complete strangers,’ he said.

‘You’re telling me.’ Heavy rain clouds had brought dusk down early, and the road was dark enough now for me to have to concentrate on driving. He’d think that was why I wasn’t explaining. Maybe. But my head kept rerunning the day’s events, every word, every action, going past in slow motion. Even Lord Elham stepping through the big window and talking about Alice.

He’d shut it but not locked it.

I pulled over. ‘I’m sorry. I have to make a phone call – it won’t take a second.’

Nor would it have done, if I could have got a signal. Predictably swearing and predictably apologising, I pulled back on to the road again, wondering what to do next. Even as I told myself not to bother, that I didn’t owe the man anything, I remembered all the little incidents that had put my life at risk and that had landed Griff in hospital. They hadn’t wanted to hurt a foolish old man or a silly woman. They wanted to find what I’d wanted to find. The owner of
Natura Rerum
. And as sure as that Guy in Canterbury Cathedral had made little apples, I’d probably led them to him. And he’d left a window open. I smacked my face hard enough for the clergyman to look hard at me.

Pushing the reluctant Micra up this track was terrifying. It leapt from rut to rut, threatening to ground its sump on every third tussock. A four-wheel drive with several litres under the bonnet – that was what I needed.

After all that there was no sign of a Focus. But they could have stowed it in one of the out-buildings. As the
rain slashed down, I decided not to bother looking but to check that open window, scrabbling over a wall just too high for me to vault, though.

It was still open. But that didn’t mean anything.

Now what? Tiptoe round like a cat burglar and risk giving the old guy heart failure, or call out like you would to your dad? “Hey, I’m home!” – that sort of thing?’

I might manage a neutral
cooee
. No reply. Nor, which was worrying, the sound of the TV. Yelling as convincingly as I could, ‘Police! Armed police!’ I ran along the corridor, pushing open the living room door.

Lord Elham’s vocabulary book, his catalogue of sexual activity, lay on the table, blotched with blood.

The front door slammed. There was the sound of feet, then a revving car. No, it didn’t sound like the Nissan – they must have hidden theirs somewhere. And what was the betting it was a Focus?

So did they take Lord Elham or leave him?

I was already out of the door, checking all the rooms along the corridor. They appeared untouched, though they’d already been in such a mess I might have been mistaken. The locked door remained locked.

They’d taken him.

No, not necessarily. He might have made it to the rest of the house, through the security door. Yes. Blood smeared on the carpet led straight to it. It seemed to have done its job: marks all round it suggested they’d tried to jemmy it and failed.

I tapped in the code. The door opened a crack, a dead weight pressing against it. I was through the gap before you could say Lord.

‘I do not want an ambulance. I do not need an ambulance. You will not summon an ambulance.’ He sat on a bathroom stool, peering at himself in a huge gilt-framed mirror. ‘I do not want the police. I do not need the police. And I forbid you to summon the police.’

We were in the main house still, using the ladies’ loo I’d sought out earlier in the week. There was far more blood on the paper towels than I liked. ‘You’ve had a nasty bang on the head. You need proper attention.’

‘In that case you can drive me to Casualty. I’ve always wondered what it was really like.’

‘And the police? Wouldn’t you like to see what the Old Bill’s really like? You’ve been broken into. People have tried to steal from you.’

‘They’ve taken nothing, as far as I know.’

‘You want to do a spot check now?’ I asked sarcastically. ‘Or shall we get that head looked at?’

‘My head, if you insist,’ he groaned. Never a good colour, he was greyish-yellow now. ‘The hospital, if you’d be so kind. But first you must secure the window. You’ll find that the shutters lock.’

‘OK. I’ll do that as soon as I’ve phoned home. They’ll be worried sick about me. Where’s the nearest extension? Back in your wing? Come on: I’ll give you a hand.’

‘What is this family of which you were talking?’ he demanded as the car hiccupped and slipped down the track. ‘I thought your mother was dead. Is it her relatives?’

‘She didn’t have any. I was farmed out to kind strangers.’

He appeared to ponder on that. I’d meant him to.
‘What sort of people took you in?’

‘A succession of people. I was sent to foster parents. Some good, some bad.’

‘Foster parents? So where would they live?’

‘Some in nice middle-class roads, some in terraced houses. Some even on council estates.’ Let him chew on that.

‘And who paid them?’

Not you!
‘The local authority. I don’t remember my mother – anything about her. I’d really like to know – anything.’ We were almost by the Hop Pocket. The map showed a lane that would get us straight on to the B2068, but it didn’t say how steep and winding it was, trees appearing from nowhere in the headlights. Perhaps he was concentrating on it, too, or perhaps his head was hurting more than he admitted.

At long last we emerged. Although it was further, I thought it might be quicker to take the motorway back to Ashford. I’d learned from the same programme as he had that the sooner head injuries were treated the better. And I also had an idea that you weren’t supposed to let the patient lose consciousness, that you had to talk to them and make them talk. So I tried again. ‘Do you remember how old my mother was? Or how she earned a living? Anything? Please try.’

‘She was just a girl, Lina. You know, a girl.’

‘Something must have made you want to sleep with her.’

‘What all the women had, or I wouldn’t touch them. Nice tits, nice legs and a nice fanny.’

And a nice thing to say to her daughter. Swallowing, I tried again. ‘What about her personality? Her
character?’

‘Damn it, I wasn’t thinking of marrying her! She must have been a nice girl, Lina – I only bedded nice girls. I mean, one has to draw the line somewhere. I have an idea she’d had a fiancé – a student, or something. He’d given her this tiny little ring –’

Yes, the ring with the pitiful little stone. ‘So what happened? Did he find out about me and drop her?’

‘I don’t think he was on the scene any more. She might have had me on the rebound, you might say. I don’t know. Lina, what’s it matter, old thing?’

It was far too hard to explain, especially to a concussed old idiot and on a road which from being as straight as a die now twisted into an awkward series of bends, just the place to meet the removal van lumbering towards us. ‘What if those burglars cased the joint and are going back with that van to empty your place?’

‘They’ll find a burglar alarm connected to the police station. The Vultures fixed that. They only got in because of that window being open. Won’t get into the main house – that security lock.’

‘Does the alarm apply to your wing, or just the main house?’

‘Might be mine – no, I think it’s just the main house. In any case, what’s a load of old furniture and stuff? Junk.’

Apart from being my livelihood. ‘Family treasures? Heirlooms?’

‘All in the public part. You’ve seen.’

I gambled. ‘Apart from the Hepplewhite bureau and all that Adam stuff? Not to mention
Natura Rerum!’

‘No one’ll find that,’ he said confidently. ‘Lina, would
you stop this infernal machine a moment? I believe I’m going to cast up my accounts.’

Which meant he was going to be sick. I knew about that from
Casualty
, too. As soon as he was ready, I bundled him back in the car and drove faster than I ought. If I was stopped by the speed cops, so much the better. They could provide another thing I was sure he’d always wanted – a police escort.

‘Lady Elham? Lady Elham?’ The receptionist was peering round the waiting area, shielding her eyes with her hand, as if she were about to discover America. At last her gaze settled on me. ‘Your father’s asking for you, your ladyship.’

As I hurried to the desk, she added plaintively, ‘I’ve been calling and calling, but you didn’t respond.’ I’ll swear she almost curtseyed. But it went against the grain, I could see that. And I couldn’t blame her. I was dirty, bloodstained and probably spotted with vomit from when I’d held the old bugger’s head while he was throwing up – there was certainly a whiff of it about me. The sooner I could stow all my clothes in the washing machine and me in the shower, the better.

My smile was meant to be apologetic, not condescending. ‘I don’t use the family name,’ I said. ‘If you check on the next of kin form you’ll see. I’m Lina Townend. There. Now, how is…my father?’

‘He’s insisting on discharging himself. We’re very reluctant. He should be kept under observation. But he said you’d do it.’

I asked, very carefully, ‘You’re sure it would be in his best interests to stay overnight?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Well, tell him I’ve already gone home, but I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to pick him up if he’s well enough.’ Even as I turned on my heel, she was telling her colleague how heartless I was – wouldn’t even see the poor old dear. The comment I cherished was the one that came back, ‘That’s the aristocracy for you: selfish to the bone.’

‘Marcus? Marcus?’ No, there was no sign of him when at last I let myself into the cottage, not so much as a cooking smell. Perhaps he’d gone back to Copeland; maybe he was just out with Tony. So long as there was some food in the fridge and plenty of hot water in the tank, he could have gone to Timbuktu as far as I was concerned. There was one phone call to make before I did anything, however: I had to tell Griff that I was home safe and sound. First time round Aidan’s number was engaged, so I had my shower and started on something like supper, dialling as I munched. Yes!

I gave him a very short account of my doings. I thought he’d notice it wasn’t very full, but he was more concerned with a single fact.

‘You left an old man in hospital when he wanted to go home?’ Griff was outraged, squeaking down the phone. ‘Lord Elham? Your father?’ His voice went up a few notes with each question.

I reached across to pop more bread in the toaster. ‘Why not? He’d have done the same for me. And after his goings on, the hire-car’s such a mess they’re going to sting me for the valeting deposit if I don’t spend an hour trying to spruce it up.’

‘But your own father! We all have duties, my dear –’

‘I’ll tell you my father’s ideas of duty when I see you, Griff. Tomorrow I’ve got to get some clean clothes to the hospital for him – got to buy them first. D’you suppose he’s a Marks and Sparks man? Then I’ll take him back to Bossingham Hall, but he’ll have to whistle for me this weekend, because it’s the Ramada Fair, unless I
can find Marcus and get him –’

‘Marcus? But he’s gone back to Copeland, dear heart.’

Despite the fleecy dressing gown, I shivered. ‘How do you know?’

‘He phoned to tell me. About half an hour ago. I thought you weren’t going to tell anyone where I was,’ he added reproachfully.

Nor was I. Nor did I. Hell and damnation!

‘He must have pressed the redial button,’ I said as lightly as possible. Since all Griff’s personal files were still in his office, it’d be the work of moments for Marcus to have checked the phone number amongst those in his address book and come up with Aidan’s place. I stopped pretending. ‘Griff: are you and Aidan still up and dressed?’

‘Of course we are – we’re not love’s young dream, darling!’

‘Well, go and check into a hotel. Set every burglar alarm he’s got and scarper. Now. Don’t argue, Griff, just do it! And take the page with you.’

Cramming dry toast in my mouth, I took the stairs two at a time. If I couldn’t trust Marcus, did that mean I couldn’t trust Tony Baker? What about Dave? He and I might not exactly have clicked, but there had to be someone out there half way honest. Dave’s number. Where the hell was Dave’s number? Biting my lips to stop the panic, I tipped everything out of my bag.

‘Why didn’t this lord fellow call us? Burglary and assault at a stately home – he’d have had a team round before you could say House of Lords.’ Dave was driving along the slow winding road to Tenterden as if he’d got radar
fitted to those neat spectacles of his. It was his own car, so we didn’t have the benefit of sirens or flashing lights – just his skill. Which I had to admit was considerable. ‘What is he, anyway? An earl? A duke?’

‘I’ve no idea – it’s not the sort of thing you ask someone, is it?’ But I should have remembered: I’d done all that research after all. ‘Hang on – is there something called a marquess?’

‘Of course there is.’

‘Well, I think he’s one of them. As for his behaviour, let’s just call him eccentric.’

‘Are you sure it’s just that? Some perfectly sane people pretend to be mad so they can get away with things. Does he have something to hide?’

Of course he had something to hide. That John Bull printing press. The lino-cut printed curtains. The woodcuts on the schoolroom walls. My revered father couldn’t have revived some of his old talents, could he? He had plenty of old tomes to cannibalise for blank pages. He had time on his hands. He had champagne tastes, which he deeply indulged, on a beer income. He’d admitted he had
Natura Rerum
. And he was dead cagey about that one room when he’d been happy for me to see the whole of the rest, his bedroom apart, that is. Perhaps he’d been saving that for a day when he hadn’t had brewer’s droop. I swallowed bile.

Dave was waiting for an answer. Remember Griff’s maxim that the less you said the better: ‘Just plain weird.’

‘In what way?’

Maybe he’d lose interest if I fended him off. ‘I’ll tell you all about him when you don’t need to concentrate
on the road, Dave, if you don’t mind.’

How had Lord Elham described it? Casting up your accounts? I wasn’t given to car-sickness, but if I didn’t keep my eyes straight ahead, I’d be doing the same.

‘So you’ve been attacked by the Kitty Gang – possibly. Griff’s been attacked by the Kitty Gang – possibly. And now this Lord Elham’s been attacked by the Kitty Gang – possibly. A lot of possiblys, there, Lina.’

And some he didn’t even know about: where did the Oxford guy fit in? The old lady and her spoons? The thief from Harrogate? ‘And a lot of real attacks, don’t forget. I don’t care who or what these people are called, so long as we stop them attacking Griff or his friend.’

‘What d’you think they’ll do if they find no one at home? Trash the place? Torch it?’

I gulped. Not with car-sickness, either. ‘Aidan’s got the same sort of burglar-proofing system as we have, with bells on. But I suppose a petrol bomb…’ Straight through that exquisite fanlight? ‘No,’ I said firmly, ‘because what I think they’re after would be destroyed, wouldn’t it?’

‘Another antiques dealer, is he, this Aidan?’

‘Griff’s lover,’ I said firmly. They said some gay men were more promiscuous than their straight counterparts. I hoped Griff hadn’t been like Lord Elham. Or at least if he had, I hoped he’d left his partners with more kindness in his memory. So long as these days he was my dear old Griff, I’d simply have to draw a line under his past. Maybe one day I’d manage to do the same with Lord Elham; somehow I doubted it.

‘So what are they after that would burn?’

‘A piece of paper they think was torn from a valuable
book and is worth hundreds. I know it’s a forgery, and more to the point I’ve found where the book is. More or less. And it’s worth thousands. Perhaps hundreds of thousands. It’s not my area, so I don’t really know.’

‘You mean you haven’t found out?’ he gasped.

‘Why should I? Not my book, after all. But,’ I added, ‘if people are prepared to do so much just for a page, the whole tome must be worth –’

‘Killing for? So how did this duke get away from his assailants?’

‘Oh, the Devil looks after his own. They knocked him out. When he came to he had the sense not to bother telling them, so he crawled through to the main house, which is separated from his quarters by a serious door. There’s a trail of blood: I think he was telling the truth. And jemmy marks – they obviously tried to follow him but they gave up. Maybe because I arrived.’

‘Why didn’t they wallop you?’

‘I didn’t exactly tell them I was unarmed and on my own. Dave, that lorry was pretty bloody close!’

‘Close your eyes if you don’t like it. And don’t bloody scream again – it puts me off.’

‘Sorry. But won’t your Tenterden pals be able to do everything?’

‘Your expectations of a rural force are a tad higher than mine. In any case, you said you wanted to come along,’ he added accusingly.

‘Only to make sure Griff’s all right. Not to try a spot of citizen’s arrest!’

‘Bloody right. If there’s any action you stay in the car. OK? I don’t want to be worrying about looking after you when my mind should be on the job.’ He killed his
speed abruptly. Already we were in the outskirts of Tenterden.

I navigated him to Aidan’s house, not that it took much doing once we’d turned into the right road. Dave’s pessimism was ill-founded: there must have been five police vehicles littered about the street, with a dozen men and women in uniform milling around looking ghostly in the blue flashing lights. That was something that had always puzzled me: why didn’t they switch them off when they’d arrived? I turned to ask Dave. But he’d already got out of the car, and was running towards his colleagues. There didn’t seem to be anything I’d describe as action, so I got out too, peering over the car. Several of Aidan’s neighbours were doing the same: ultra-respectable people pretending to disapprove but probably as excited by stuff straight off the TV as my birth father would have been. Birth father. Biological father. Whatever. Maybe I could try living with those terms for a few days. He certainly didn’t feel like a father sort of father.

One of the neighbours peeled away from the others and started to walk towards me. If it was OK for him to be on the move, no doubt it was OK for me, too. What about the car, though? Dave had left his key in the ignition. Talk about leading folk into temptation. I fished it out, locked the car and pocketed it.

And then I bunched my hand round it, so the key, a cylindrical affair, not the old-fashioned flat sort, protruded between my first and second fingers, like a mini knuckle-duster. After all, I’d had enough to make me think twice about anyone, even a neighbour in such a respectable place as Tenterden, who was wearing a black
hoodie.

For a moment I wondered if it might be Marcus under that hood. After all, there hadn’t been any more attacks while he’d been staying with us. Was it possible that he’d been the person I’d tripped in Harrogate? Security had never caught anyone, and the thief had had a lot of things a quiet person like him might just have known about. But he’d been with me too soon, surely – he simply wouldn’t have had time to shake off his pursuers and return to me. No, the theory didn’t hold water.

Casually I crossed to the other side of the road, still clutching the key. I felt a lot less casual when Hoodie crossed too. What next? The police were still far too occupied doing whatever police officers do in a minor crisis to notice people walking along the pavement, whichever side of the road they chose. Actually, I might just choose the other side again.

Mistake? When he followed me he would come from behind. But while I’d never won any school sports day prizes, I could run faster than most on the streets. And for screaming I might have got an Olympic medal. But what I was best at was digging the elbow into an attacker from the rear, and yelling at the same time. It was a good job, really, because that was what I had to do.

I was good enough to bring him down, but must have been out of practice, because he stumbled half upright and tried to scuttle off. I lunged and floored him again, pushing his hood back. I stared straight into the eyes of someone I’d met. The friendly Harrogate security guard who’d been so kind to Griff. Mal.

My stomach’s turn to sink. What if he was one of Griff’s boyfriends now?

I didn’t get the chance to ask, of course. Not with all those interested policemen gathering round.

‘Where could be safer than London, dear heart? You insist that Aidan and I keep out of the way, he has his flat there, complete with key-code entry, and now you’re not happy. You tell me you are, but I can see you’re not.’ Over the silver and linen that Aidan’s sort of hotel runs to even for breakfast tables, Griff cocked his head sideways. ‘Come, Lina: eat those scrambled eggs before they lose their fluffy perfection, then tell me what’s troubling you.’

So hungry it was hard not to wolf everything in sight, I had no trouble obeying the first instruction. The second was harder. Swallowing hard, I tried several times before managing, ‘I – just wish – I don’t know.’
I just wish you could be there to go home to and make everything as it was before that damned page turned up
.

‘Are you afraid of being in the cottage on your own? I could ask Mrs Hatch –’

I shook my head. I didn’t want Mrs Hatch. I wanted my Griff. But if he caught on, he’d throw up the chance of safety in the Smoke and come back to Bredeham and put himself at risk. ‘I shall be fine,’ I lied firmly. ‘I’ve got a lot to do, after all. Looking after Lord Elham, for one thing, and there’s the Ramada fair – we usually put in a presence there.’

‘There you are, then,’ Aidan announced, plonking down his serviette – no, his napkin – as if no one need worry about anything. ‘I’ll settle up, shall I, while you have your little chinwag about price-fixing. Take care, Evelina, my dear.’

His
dear
. Maybe I’d have liked him more if he hadn’t had that upper-crust accent that can make its owner sound as if he’s patronising you even when he’s not. But he was at least trying to be tactful, leaving Griff and me alone.

‘I notice,’ Griff started, reaching for the butter, catching my eye and toying with the low-fat spread instead. At last he abandoned both for margarine, not paint-pot orange in a plastic tub but deep and treacle-gold in a proper bowl, just like we had at home. ‘I notice that you always refer to your birth father as if he’s a complete stranger. Have you not discussed a more intimate nomenclature?’

Shaking my head wasn’t enough. I owed him more than that. ‘He’s never asked me to. And he’s not the sort of man you can ask – ask anything that you want. It’s like –’ I was floundering ‘– like trying to reason with a toddler. He sort of throws his toys out of the pram.’

‘Violence!’

‘No. He retires to his favourite TV programme. Griff, I’m afraid he’s not a very nice man. I can’t tell you all about everything now, but – Oh, the police!’

Every head in the room turned, of course, but I don’t think anyone else got to their feet ready to run.

‘Panic not, fair one. I know old habits die hard, but aim for a little decorum!’ He put his tongue into his cheek to remind me he was teasing. ‘He probably wants to talk to us about that security guard. I’m afraid the delay will irritate poor Aidan.’ Suddenly he took my hand. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come too? Or want me to come home?’

It was a good job the arrival of the policeman stopped
me replying. We exchanged polite good mornings as he briefly flipped his ID, and a rabbit-eyed waitress offered more coffee as he sat down, parking his cap on the chair Aidan had left vacant. I’d hoped for more than a uniformed constable. I wanted something more like in
Morse
– a heavy-weight plain-clothes chief inspector and his sergeant.