Mrs. Malory and A Time To Die (18 page)

I opted gratefully for the tea and a rather nice slice of Dundee cake. For a while Vicky talked about the program and about other programs she had done or was proposing to do, and I listened in a sort of daze. I listened more attentively when she began talking about Jo.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that she should have left the house to that girl. A valuable property like that should have gone to one of the family. I didn’t expect her to leave me anything—we never got on; Simon was always her favorite—but to leave it to a stable girl!”

“I think Liz was rather more than a stable girl,” I said placatingly. “Really, she’s devoted her life to the place.”

“Well, she’s got a share of the business. I’d have thought that was more than enough.”

“Simon seems quite happy about the arrangement.”

“Oh, Simon—he’s hopeless about any sort of business.”

“He is an accountant,” I said. “That’s business, after all.”

Vicky gave a short laugh. “Not a very good one, from what I’ve heard. Mother says he’s always having trouble trying to keep up with things at work. Mind you, he never wanted to go into accountancy. Father made him.”

“What did he want to do?” I asked.

“Oh, he had some silly idea of helping Jo and Charlie. You can imagine what Father thought about that!”

I could imagine it very well. “Perhaps he’d have been happier doing that.”

“Happier!” Vicky said scornfully. “What’s that got to do with it? No, my little brother’s always been a bit odd. There was that girlfriend—what was her name?—Julie something. We quite thought they’d get engaged. It would have been a good match; her father was one of the partners. But that came to nothing.”

“I thought she went away to London,” I said.

“Yes, she did, but that was after she’d broken it off with Simon. We never knew why. And I’d like to know what he does in London when he comes up to stay with me. Oh, I know he goes to a few theaters, but some evenings he doesn’t, and he’s out nearly every afternoon. When I ask him where he’s been, he just says walking round London.”

“Well, perhaps he is. I must say I like just wandering around looking at things when I’m up there.”

“Oh, that’s different—you write books,” Vicky said, as if that covered any sort of eccentricity.

“Well, he’s certainly putting a lot of time in at the stables,” I said.

“I suppose he might marry that girl,” Vicky said thoughtfully. “At least it would keep that house in the family.”

Driving back up Whiteladies Road I decided I didn’t want to face the motorway, so I went up onto the Downs to take the old-fashioned A38 home. As I scrabbled in my purse for the money for the toll on the suspension bridge, I considered what Vicky had said about Simon. I could see why she couldn’t understand Simon’s wish to “walk about London,” something she would never have thought of doing. Simon, I now realized, has always been something of a dreamer; pushed by his father into a career he disliked and wasn’t good at, he must have often felt the need to escape from the realities of life. I suppose that’s why he spent so much time at the stables. I wondered what the future held for him now that his father had died.

Going out of Bristol I suddenly remembered seeing Jo at Temple Mead station and how drawn and anxious she had looked when she thought she was unobserved. I wondered what the “tiresome business” was that she had to face that day. I’d learned so much about her life since she died that I began to feel as if I’d never really known her. But then, how could we possibly say that we knew anybody? It was all too confusing, so I found some soothing music on the radio and concentrated on my driving.

When I got back home the animals rushed out madly into the garden as if they’d been shut up in the house for days rather than hours. I saw with some irritation that it was now raining, so I’d have muddy paw marks all over the kitchen. It had been a long day; I suddenly felt very tired, too tired even to make a cup of tea or pour a drink, and simply sat at the kitchen table, not moving. It occurred to me that I’d been getting old without really noticing it and after doing something unusual, out of my old routine, I no longer had the resilience to pick myself up straightaway. A sharp bark (Tris wanting to come in) got me to my feet and, reaching for his towel, I went to let him in.

 

“So how did you get on?”

Rosemary and I have the habit, and have had for years, of phoning each other most mornings. Thea or Michael, bless them, ring every day to see if I’m “all right,” but it’s not quite the same. Just chat I suppose, but it’s an exchange of news, thoughts and a good moan, something you can only really share with someone of your own generation, especially someone you’ve grown up with.

“Oh, it went quite well,” I said. “Whatever reservations I might have about Vicky—and I can’t say I care for her as a person—she’s very good at her job, very professional. But
so
different from Simon!”

“Oh, she’s always taken after Gordon, though I can’t say Simon takes after Esther, thank goodness!”

“No, he’s always seemed the odd one out in that family. I mean, he’s always been wonderfully patient with Esther and has tried hard to be a good son, but somehow . . .”

“I know what you mean,” Rosemary said. “You sort of feel he’s never fitted in.”

“Vicky was telling me about how he used to spend days, when he was staying with her, just wandering around London. That is the sort of thing
we
would enjoy, but can you imagine Gordon or Esther doing it! Or Vicky, of course. She was very scornful.”

“She would be.”

“She did say that Simon was pushed into his accountancy job by Gordon. Simon never wanted to do it.”

“Oh, he hates it. Jack used to tell me how terribly difficult Simon found it all when he was just starting with his firm. He took ages to pick things up and was very slow. Jack, bless him, felt sorry for the boy and did his best to help. By the time Simon left to go to Frobisher and King—I think Gordon exerted a bit of influence to get him in there—he was more or less competent. But it’s obvious he’s pretty miserable and should never have been forced into it.”

“Perhaps now Gordon’s dead, Simon can do something else. I don’t suppose Esther would mind, and, anyway, he’s in his thirties for goodness’ sake; he doesn’t have to consult her!”

“But what would he do? Accountancy’s all he’s trained for.”

“He could take over the stables,” I suggested. “He spends all his spare time there and now he owns the biggest share of them—well, why not?”

“It’s a thought. Jo would have liked that. I wonder if that’s what she had in mind.”

“I don’t see why he couldn’t make a go of it,” I said. “He’s been riding all his life, though I don’t know about teaching people, and he’s been doing the books already, so he’d go on seeing to that side of things.”

We discussed this possibility enthusiastically for some time, planning a splendid new life for Simon, until Rosemary said, “It would be perfect, but I wonder if Gordon hasn’t sapped his confidence too much for him to change direction now.”

“You know him best. You could sound him out—see if he’s been thinking about it.”

“I might just do that,” Rosemary said.

I’d only just put the phone down when Thea rang.

“Sheila, could you do me a favor? Could you take Alice and me up to the stables on Saturday afternoon? My car’s got to go in to have the transmission seen to and I can’t have the Land Rover because Michael’s got a clay shoot.”

“Of course, I’d love to. How nice that you and Alice are riding together now.”

“Well, it’s her first proper one-hour ride, off the leading rein, so I thought I’d go along. Anyway, I do enjoy it, especially now I don’t get so stiff every time.”

I was quite glad to have a reason for going to the stables to see how things were going there.

 

“It’s only an hour,” I said to Thea as we arrived, “so it’s not worth going away and coming back. I’ve got a book.”

“Come
along
Mummy!” Alice said, tugging at Thea’s arm. “Gran, come and see Cracker. He really knows me now.”

I followed them into the stable yard. “You carry on, Thea,” I said, as Peggy led the horses out. “I’ll go and pay for the ride—my treat.”

I watched them out of sight and then went into the office. Simon was sitting at the desk. I noticed that the tangle of wires had now been boxed in and there was a new set of switches. I wondered how Simon felt, sitting there. But I suppose life does go on and they needed the office.

“Hello,” I said. “I’ve come to pay for Thea and Alice’s ride.”

Simon looked up from some papers he’d been studying and smiled. “Hello, Sheila. How are you? Rosemary said you hadn’t been well.”

“Oh, I’m fine now. It was that horrible bug that was going around. I was so sorry not to be able to get to the funeral. Jo was a good friend and I would have liked to say good-bye.”

“It was very well attended. People came from all over.”

“I’m so glad.”

There was an awkward silence; then I said, “How are things going here? Liz and Peggy seem to have everything well in hand.”

“Yes.” He took up the subject gratefully. “They’ve been marvelous—Liz especially. I think we can make a go of it. We’ve got plans for riding holidays for the young. I thought we could use those outbuildings at the back and make a sort of dormitory. Peggy assures me all young girls want to sleep in dormitories! Other stables do it. It’s a good source of income in itself and can bring new people in on a permanent basis.” He spoke enthusiastically. “Or, at least,” he went on, reverting to his own more hesitant manner, “that’s what they tell me.”

“I think it’s a splendid idea,” I said, “and I can think of several little girls of my acquaintance who’ll be nagging their parents as soon as you’ve got it up and running.”

He smiled. “I’ll get you to spread the word as soon as we have it sorted out.”

“Anyway,” I said, “I must let you get on.” I put the money for the ride down on the desk and went away.

I got back into the car and began to read my book in a desultory way, but I couldn’t concentrate, so I put it away and looked around me. Simon had come out of the office and was standing with Liz, deep in conversation as they looked down across the fields. She was talking very earnestly about something, and he was smiling and nodding. At one point he put his arm round her shoulder in a friendly gesture, and the look she gave him made it suddenly very obvious to me how she felt about him. I wondered whether Simon even noticed it; probably not. He patted her shoulder absently, smiled again and went back into the office. Liz stood for several minutes, quite still, leaning on the rail; then she too went inside, into the stable yard.

I was still considering what I’d seen, when I was aware of another vehicle approaching. In my rear mirror I saw that it was Dan Webster’s Mitsubishi. Some instinct made me crouch lower in my seat and appear to be buried in my book, though I needn’t have bothered since he took no notice and went briskly past me into the office.

On an impulse I got out of the car, shutting the door as quietly as I could, and went up towards the stables. Cautiously, I edged as near as I could get to the door in the hope of hearing something, but, although I could catch the murmur of voices, I couldn’t make out any of the conversation. I stood there for a moment and then, feeling rather ridiculous, I moved away. When Liz came out I was standing by the gate leading to the bridle path.

“Hello,” she greeted me. “Are you waiting for Alice?”

“Alice and Thea,” I said, thankful that she hadn’t seen me doing my amateur spy act. “They’re both out today. It’s a beautiful day for it.”

“Mm.” She raised her face to the sun and smiled happily. “It’s a perfect day.”

We chatted for a while about nothing in particular, both of us content just to bask in the sunshine, gazing over the peaceful countryside. Our mood was broken by the appearance of Dan Webster coming out of the office. He was obviously not in a good mood and, as he left, he called back over his shoulder, “Well, just you think about it. We both have a great deal more to discuss. I’ll be back.”

He got into his car, slamming the door with some violence, and drove away.

“What a disagreeable man,” I said.

Liz nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure Jo was keen to get Tarquin away from him,” I suggested.

“He’s a beautiful horse,” Liz said, “and he’s come on wonderfully. He just needed proper handling.”

“Well, he’s certainly better away from that man,” I said. “Does he still ride from here?”

“No, I don’t think he rides at all now. Jo said he only did it to get in with the hunting set—something to do with business, I think.”

I wanted very much to ask what sort of business he had with Simon, but I couldn’t think of any way of introducing such a question casually into the conversation. The appearance of the riders brought an end to it anyway, and I was left to speculate.

Alice was very full of her ride and Thea almost as enthusiastic.

“It’s ridiculous not to take advantage of the nice weather while it lasts. Soon it’ll be winter and horribly cold and wet,” she said. “I think I’ll just go and make another booking for us both.”

When she came out again she was looking very puzzled.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with Simon,” she said. “He seemed miles away—hardly took in what I was saying. I had to ask him for a booking a couple of times until it got through to him.”

“How extraordinary,” I said. “He was quite all right when I saw him before.”

“He looked as if something had upset him quite badly. He pulled himself together and apologized, but it was all a bit odd. Anyway, shall we go back and have some tea? You’ll stay, won’t you, Sheila?”

Alice hung on my arm. “Do come to tea, Gran, and then I can tell you all about Cracker. He trotted really
fast
. . . .”