The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) (22 page)

Aggie sent her an unfathomable look, then made a dismissive gesture. ‘I’m getting old. Thought I might forget where I’d put it if I kept it here. It was safer with Sweetman. He may not seem particularly organised, but he is.’

‘Why did you give it to me?’

‘I thought you might like all the facts. Didn’t think you’d ever had a chance to read the whole story before.’

‘Oh, come on! You collected those clippings years ago. Why would you do such a morbid thing?’

Aggie was quiet for a moment. ‘I’ve often wondered if perhaps Fay might have been innocent.’

‘How could she be? She was there. I saw her.’

‘Yes, but what did you see exactly?’

Helen shuddered at the memory of that horrific scene.

‘No one ever came forward, you know,’ Aggie continued. ‘There must’ve been other witnesses besides a five-year-old girl. It was early morning, yes, but this is London. There are always people about. Dog-walkers, commuters, rubbish men.’

‘It was on the Common,’ said Helen. ‘It’s like an island among the traffic.’ She shared Aggie’s doubts, but Fay doing it was the only thing which made sense to her.

Who else had been there? She racked her brain, but found only disjointed images. She’d told Detective Wilcox about the dog, but someone must have been there with it. Why hadn’t he or she come forward? Had they left before her mother was murdered?

She’d had a seizure in the car, but wasn’t sure if she remembered it because she’d been told about it, or whether she truly remembered. How long had she been out? Seconds? Minutes?

The loss of her mother was such a personal issue that she couldn’t see it strictly in logical terms, and she had to separate her emotions out if she was to think clearly. If you murdered someone, and there was a witness, what would you do with the witness?

The level-headed answer would be to get rid of the witness. The expression on Fay’s face, shocked, distraught, apologetic, was etched on her mind, and no matter how many times she ran through the scenario, she couldn’t picture Fay harming a child.

Who else, then, would kill only the victim and not the witness? Had they not noticed her on the back seat, or were they disturbed before they could finish?

A shiver ran down her spine, and she shuddered again. ‘Who else could it have been?’

‘In our line of work we make a few enemies,’ said Aggie.

‘What kind of enemies?’ The image of Jason’s father raising his glass to her jumped into her head.

‘Business rivals. Disgruntled buyers or sellers, perhaps. An auction house only sells the work after it’s been valued, and although we make every effort to check the provenance of what we sell, it’s not always easy. Sometimes there are disputes.’

‘Provenance?’

‘The paperwork detailing ownership and source of a work. That sort of thing.’

‘Are you saying things aren’t as they should be at the company?’

‘Of course they are,’ Aggie snapped. ‘But it’s tricky. And then there was that uncle of yours. I never liked him. Couldn’t bear his smarmy ways.’

‘Was that why you kept me away from him, from my
only
living relative, because of his “smarmy” ways?’

‘No, I …’ Aggie shook her head, slowly as if it was too much of an effort. ‘It was the way he looked at Mimi, his sick brother’s wife. And at you, too, as if he wanted to eat both of you. He was questioned by the police, you know. It didn’t sit well with me. I … well, I made a choice. But maybe I made a mistake.’

‘Only one?’ Helen made no attempt at hiding the sarcasm. Just then she noticed Aggie’s ghostly pallor and that her lips were cracked. ‘Are you comfortable? You look like you might be thirsty.’

‘Parched, actually.’

Helen poured her a glass of water from a jug on the bedside table, and Aggie drank it down with heavy gulps. ‘The blanket,’ she said when she’d finished.

‘You want me to pull it up a bit? I can close the back door as well, if you like. You mustn’t get cold.’

‘The blanket will do for now. The air is doing me good.’ Aggie winked, and her face wobbled. ‘But do remember to close it before you go otherwise I’ll get in trouble with my jailer.’

‘And we can’t have that.’ Helen pulled up the blanket and patted Aggie’s hand. Perhaps this wasn’t the time to talk about her mother’s belongings. Then she looked at Aggie who lay with her eyes closed, and thought she may never get another opportunity. ‘Aggie, why was everything sold?’

Her grandmother opened her eyes and sent her a puzzled look. ‘What?’

‘After my mother died, her things were sold at auction, by our own company, actually. Sweetman gave me a list. Who made that decision?’

Aggie frowned. ‘I don’t quite recall. Letitia, I think. Or it might have been Ruth. Does it matter?’

Helen let go of Aggie’s hand. ‘Of course it bloody matters!’

‘Don’t swear. It isn’t attractive in a lady.’

‘Whatever. I just want to know why my mother’s stuff was sold. Didn’t anyone think about me, about what I would like? It’s as though you all wanted to wipe out every trace
of her as if she’d never existed. Like I never existed.’

‘Dear girl, don’t carry on so. No one wanted to wipe anyone away. It was the practical, sensible thing to do. And you received the money from the sale. It’s in trust, I think. Sweetman should have all the paperwork.’

‘I’ve already spoken to him. I don’t care about the money. I just want what belonged to her.’ Helen’s voice cracked. She knew she was acting childishly but couldn’t help it.

‘There wasn’t anything you would’ve wanted anyway.’

‘How do you know? There might have been some photos. I only have one of my parents.’

‘It was all grown-up stuff. Mimi wasn’t a great hoarder.’

‘What about my toys? My rabbit?’

Aggie sent her a pitying look. ‘Heavens girl, this was twenty years ago. You had some toys with you when you … when you left. As for the rabbit, I’m sure it went to a good home. Maybe the pet shop took it back. Either way it’ll be long dead now.’

‘How can you be so sure? Maybe the aunts just boiled it.’

Missing the point, Aggie snapped, ‘Of course they didn’t! Neither of them even like rabbit, especially Letitia. Oh, she was always the fussy one. Fussy with her food, with clothes, with men. That’s why she never married, you know. Because no one was ever good enough. I sometimes wonder if this striving for perfection was her way of compensating for the fact that she isn’t much to look at. I think she envied your mother.’

‘Why?’

‘Because your mother was very beautiful. Both my girls resented that. When William and I got together, it never entered into our minds that there’d be so much dislike between our children. How they fought over the company, like toddlers squabbling over a toy. And when your mother died, Ruth, well, all the fight went out of her. She took a back seat, and Letitia was left holding it all together. I suppose one might say she got her way as far as the company was concerned, but I suspect that if she’d had the chance, she’d have wanted things to be different. She works too hard.’

‘What do you mean “she got her way”?’ Helen asked, a sudden suspicion niggling.

‘She wanted to be in charge. To run it her way. Couldn’t stand it that your mother had different ideas.’

A cold feeling stole over Helen and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. She had to ask Aggie more about her aunts, to make sure they couldn’t have been involved, unlikely as it was.

‘About the company, well, it’s big business, right? A lot of money involved. Do you think Ruth or Letitia could’ve had something to do with what happened to my mother? So they could get their hands on her shares?’

Aggie sent her a horrified look. ‘Good heavens, girl! What goes on in that head of yours? These are my daughters we’re talking about. They may have resented her a bit, but murder … well, you can rest assured that’s not what happened,’ she said firmly.

‘I just need to know, that’s all,’ said Helen. She didn’t particularly like either of her aunts, but welcomed Aggie’s vehement protest and allowed it to quash her short-lived suspicions. Arseni’s role in everything,
that
she wasn’t quite so sure about.

Aggie suddenly remarked, ‘Like I said, there wasn’t anything worth keeping.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Your mother’s things. You were asking about them.’

‘Well, yes, but …’ That was way back in the conversation. Her grandmother’s mind was obviously wandering.

‘There was nothing of any real value.’

Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, thought Helen, and resentment flared up again.

‘Except she had some lovely antiques. And that Fabergé paper knife. Yes, that is a shame. I wonder what became of it.’

Helen thought of what her uncle had said, that Mimi had owned the other two. She also remembered Wilcox’s explanation that Aggie had provided information on the knives. ‘What can you tell me about my mother’s knife?’

‘It had a blue handle, sort of square if I remember correctly, and some intricate metal work.’

‘It wasn’t on the list Sweetman gave me. Do you think my mother might have sold it herself, before she died?’

Aggie shook her head. ‘I very much doubt it. She used it all the time, always kept it on her desk in her office. You probably remember it. You know, the room just off the drawing room, with the yellow drapes and the view of the garden.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Helen retorted. ‘I don’t remember any office or any paper knife. As it happens, I don’t remember anything at all. Just my rabbit and one of my mother’s handbags. The rest is a blank, more or less.’

Aggie put a swollen hand on Helen’s arm. ‘How dreadful for you not to be able to remember your mother. It’s all my fault. I didn’t do you a very good turn, did I?’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘I let you down.’

‘Yes, you did,’ Helen whispered, tears pressing.

‘I wanted you away from that … that man, and I didn’t think you’d want to live with me.’

‘Why wouldn’t I have wanted to live with you?’

Aggie smiled wistfully. ‘I was a cranky old woman. I couldn’t have children under my feet. And you … your epilepsy frightened me. I was terrified of the responsibility. Didn’t think I could do it.’

‘And now?’

‘I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m still a cranky old woman.’

‘Uh-huh, but that’s not what I meant.’

Heaving a sigh, Aggie sank back against the pillows. ‘I think differently now. I could’ve hired a nurse. I could’ve rearranged my home in such a way that it would’ve been safe for you, for a child with your condition. You would’ve had access to private health care, private education. You would’ve gone to university—’

‘Maybe not.’

‘All right, maybe not,’ she conceded, ‘but you would’ve had the offer. Oh, hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Or a terrible thing, depending on how you look at it.’

Helen’s anger deflated. She now understood Aggie’s reasons for taking her away, and it took the sting out of what she’d always seen as her grandmother rejecting her. Suddenly that mattered more than anything else. People made mistakes, but it took an extraordinary person to admit to it. And it took an even more extraordinary person to forgive.

Can I forgive, she thought?
Is my heart big enough for that?

She looked into Aggie’s rheumy eyes and saw the uncertainty behind them, held firmly in check by a traditional upbringing and the ‘stiff upper lip’ morals which were probably instilled in her from birth. Another piece fell into place.

‘Isn’t it just?’ She tucked the blanket more firmly around her grandmother’s bloated figure. ‘I expect you’re tired. Sorry for pestering you with all my questions.’

‘Don’t apologise. If anyone’s entitled to answers, you certainly are.’ A sad, little smile creased Aggie’s features. ‘Do an old lady a favour and sit with me while I fall asleep.’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m glad you came. Thank you.’

‘So am I.’

Aggie closed her eyes and settled back against her mountain of pillows. The silence between them was soothing. Things had been said, the air cleared, and inside Helen a small flutter of happiness rose as she watched the old lady’s chest rise and fall.

Suddenly Aggie’s eyes flew open again. ‘I do think that woman, the one who went to prison … oh, what was her name again? I’m so forgetful these days.’

‘Fay.’

‘Yes, Fay. How could I forget?’ Aggie smiled weakly. ‘I do think she conveniently played into someone else’s hands.’

Helen stayed for another hour, mulling over Aggie’s theory about Fay. She’d never thought of that, but had to now when her own doubts were getting stronger every day. She’d have liked to discuss it with Aggie but had probably taxed her enough. She’d have to wait, but not too long. It was possible that Aggie didn’t have much time left.

When her grandmother was fast asleep, she tiptoed around the room switching off the lights except the lamp by the bed, closed the garden door and drew the curtains again. Mrs Sanders saw her out and locked up behind her.

At the sound of the last bolt being driven home, the mental image of a jail door clanging shut leapt into her mind. She shivered and told herself not to be so silly.

But the image stayed with her.

Chapter Sixteen

Jason had called Trevor with what he’d learned about Helen’s background and was now waiting impatiently for more information, but Trevor hated being chased, and Jason didn’t want to piss him off.

He no longer believed her story that she’d accidentally caused the death of a child, so his concern about vengeful parents wasn’t an issue any more. But instead of relief, he now felt even more concerned. Who was she really hiding from? Why had she only met her uncle for the first time a few weeks ago? And what was Mimi Stephanov’s connection? Trevor’s paranoia about dodgy Russians was rubbing off on him. Jason needed to find out as much as he could about the old murder.

He remembered the folder she’d been so reluctant for him to see and found himself outside the door to her room before realising he was about to break the most important of his own house rules.

Damn.

He retreated to the kitchen to mull this over and found Lee munching toast and poring over a large, glossy atlas.