The Tinder Box (10 page)

Thursday, 11 March 1999, 4.00 a.m.

Siobhan had lain awake for hours, listening to the -- clock on the bedside table tick away the seconds. She *! heard Ian come in at two o'clock and tiptoe into

the spare room, but she didn't call out to tell him she

was awake. There would be time enough to say sorry

tomorrow. Sorry for dragging him home early . . .

sorry for saying Lavenham Interiors could go down .Ł{

the drain for all she cared . . . sorry for getting every- '*'

thing so wrong . . . sorry for blaming the English

for the sins of the Irish . . .

Grief squeezed her heart every time she thought

about Rosheen. But it was a complicated grief that

carried shame and guilt in equal proportions because

she couldn't rid herself of responsibility for what the

girl had done. 'I thought she was keen on Kevin,' she

told the inspector that afternoon. 'Ian never understood

the attaction, but I did.'

'Why?' he asked with a hint of cynicism. 'Because

it was a suitable match? Because Kevin was the same

class as she was?'

'It wasn't a question of class,' she protested.

'Wasn't it? In some ways you're more of a snob

than the English, Mrs Lavenham. You forced Rosheen

to acknowledge her relationship with Liam and Bridey

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because you acknowledged them,' he told her brutally,

'but it really ought to have occurred to you that a

bright girl like her would have higher ambitions than

to be known as the niece of Irish gypsies.'

'Then why bother with Kevin at all? Wasn't he just

as bad?'

The inspector shrugged. 'What choice did she

have? How many unattached men are there in Sower

bridge? And you had to believe she was with someone,

Mrs Lavenham, otherwise you'd have started asking

awkward questions. Still - ' he paused - 'I doubt the

poor lad had any idea just how much she loathed

him.'

'No one did,' said Siobhan sadly. 'Everyone thought

she was besotted with him after the incident in the

barn.'

'She was playing a long game,' he said slowly, 'and

she was very good at it. You never doubted she was

fond of her aunt and uncle.'

The believed what she told me.'

He smiled slightly. 'And you were determined that

everyone else should believe it as well.'

Siobhan looked at him with stricken eyes. 'Oh

God! Does that make it my fault?'

'No,' he murmured. 'Mine. I didn't take you

seriously when you said the Irish only really enjoy

fighting each other.'

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Thursday, 11 March 1999, 3.00p.m.

Cynthia Haversley opened her front door a crack.

'Oh, it's you,' she said with surprising warmth. 'I

thought it was another of those beastly journalists.'

Well, well! How quickly times change, thought

Siobhan ruefully as she stepped inside. Not so long

ago Cynthia had been inviting those same 'beastly'

journalists into Malvern House for cups of tea while

she regaled them with stories about the O'Riordans'

iniquities. Siobhan nodded to Peter, who was standing

in the doorway to the drawing room. 'How are you

both?'

It was three days since she had seen them, and she

was surprised by how much they had aged. Peter, in

particular, looked haggard and grey, and she assumed

he must have been hitting the bottle harder than

usual. He made a rocking motion with his hand.

'Not too good. Rather ashamed about the way we've

all been behaving, if I'm honest.'

Cynthia opened her mouth to say something, but

clearly thought better of it. 'Where are the boys?' she

asked instead.

'Nora's looking after them for me.'

'You should have brought them with you. I wouldn't have minded.'

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f

Siobhan shook her head. 'I didn't want them to

hear what I'm going to say to you, Cynthia.'

The woman bridled immediately. 'You can't

blame--'

'Enough!' snapped Peter, cutting her short and

stepping to one side. 'Come into the drawing room,

Siobhan. How's Ian bearing up? We saw he'd come

home.'

She walked across to the window, from where she

could see the remains of Kilkenny Cottage. 'Tired,'

she answered. 'He didn't get back till early this morning

and he had to leave again at crack of dawn for the

office. We've got three contracts on the go and they're

all going pear-shaped because neither of us has been

there.'

'It can't be easy for you.'

'No,' she said slowly, 'it's not. Ian was supposed

to stay in Italy till Friday, but as things are . . .' She

paused. 'Neither of us can be in two places at once,

unfortunately.' She turned to look at them. 'And I

can't leave the children.'

'I'm sorry,' said Peter.

She gave a small laugh. 'There's no need to be. I

do rather like them, you know, so it's no hardship

having to stay at home. I just wish it hadn't had to

happen this way.' She folded her arms and studied

Cynthia seriously. 'James told me an interesting story

yesterday,' she said. 'I assume it's true because he's

a truthful child, but I thought I'd check it with you

anyway. In view of everything that's happened, I'm

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hesitant to accept anyone's word on anything. Did

you go down to the farm one day and find James and

Oliver alone?'

'I saw Rosheen leave,' she said, 'but I knew no one

was there to look after them because I'd been - well watching

the drive that morning.' She puffed out her

chest in self-defence. 'I told you she was deceitful and

lazy but you wouldn't listen to me.'

'Because you never told me why,' said Siobhan

mildly.

'I assumed you knew and that it didn't bother you.

Ian made no secret of how angry he was when you

came home one night and found her with Kevin in

the barn, but you just said he was overreacting.'

Cynthia considered the wisdom of straight speaking,

decided it was necessary, and took a deep breath. 'If

I'm honest, Siobhan, you even seemed to find it rather

amusing. I never understood why. Personally, I'd have

sacked her on the spot and looked for someone more

respectable.'

Siobhan shook her head. 'I thought it was a one

off. I didn't realize she'd been making a habit of it.'

'She was too interested in sex not to, my dear. I've

never seen anyone so shameless. More often than not,

she'd leave your boys with Bridey if it meant she could

have a couple of hours with Kevin Wyllie. Many's the

time I watched her sneak them into Kilkenny Cottage

only to sauce out again five minutes later on her own.

And then she'd drive off in your Range Rover, bold

as brass, with that unpleasant young man beside her.

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I did wonder if you knew what your car was being

used for.'

'You should have told me.'

Cynthia shook her head. 'You wouldn't have

listened.'

'In fact, Cynthia tried several times to broach the

subject,' said Peter gently, 'but on each occasion you

shot her down in flames and all but accused her of

being an anti-Irish bigot.'

'I never had much choice,' murmured Siobhan,

without hostility. 'Could you not have divorced Rosheen

from Liam, Bridey and Patrick, Cynthia? Why did

every conversation about my nanny have to begin with

a diatribe against her relatives?'

There was a short, uncomfortable silence.

Siobhan sighed. 'What I really don't understand

is why you should have thought I was the kind of mother who wouldn't care if her children were being

neglected.'

Cynthia looked embarrassed. 'I didn't, not really. I

just thought you were - well, rather more relaxed than

most.'

'Because I'm Irish and not English?'

Peter tut-tutted in concern. 'It wasn't like that,' he

said. 'Hang it all, Siobhan, we didn't know what

Rosheen's instructions were. To be honest, we

thought you were encouraging her to make use of

Bridey in order to give the poor old thing a sense

of purpose. We didn't applaud your strategy - as a

matter of fact, it seemed like a mad idea to us--'

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IB

'If

#1

He broke off with a guilty expression. 'As Cynthia

kept saying, there's no way she'd have left two boisterous

children in the care of a disabled woman

and a drunken man, but we thought you were trying

to demonstrate solidarity with them. If I trust the

O'Riordans with my children, then so should the rest

of you . . . that sort of thing.'

Siobhan turned back to the window and the blackened

heap that had been Kilkenny Cottage. For want

of a, nail the shoe was lost . . . for want of a shoe the

horse was lost . . . for want of mutual understanding

lives were lost . . . 'Couldn't you have told me about

the time you went to the farm and found James and

Oliver on their own?' she murmured, her breath

misting the glass.

'I did,' said Cynthia.

'When?'

'The day after I found them. I stopped you and Ian at the end of the drive as you were setting off

for work and told you your children were too young to be left alone. I must say I thought your attitude

was extraordinarily casual but - well - ' she shrugged

- 'I'd rather come to expect that.'

Siobhan remembered the incident well. Cynthia

had stood in the drive, barring their way, and had

then thrust her indignant red face through lan's open

window and lectured them on the foolishness of

employing a girl with loose morals. 'We both assumed

you were talking about the night she took Kevin into

the barn. Ian said afterwards that he wished he'd never

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mentioned it because you were using it as a stick to

beat us.'

Cynthia frowned. 'Didn't James and Oliver tell

you about it? I sat with them for nearly two hours,

in all conscience, and gave Rosheen a piece of my

mind when she finally came back.'

'They were too frightened. Kevin beat them about

the head because they'd opened the door to you and

said if I ever asked them if Mrs Haversley had come

to the house they were to say no.'

Cynthia lowered herself carefully onto a chair. 'I

had no idea,' she said in an appalled tone of voice.

'No wonder you took it so calmly.'

'Mm.' Siobhan glanced from the seated woman to

her husband. 'We seem to have got our wires crossed

all along the line, and I feel very badly about it now.

I keep thinking that if I hadn't been so quick to

condemn you all, no one would have died.'

Peter shook his head. 'We all feel the same way.

Even Sam and Nora Bentley. They're saying that if

they'd backed your judgement of Liam and Bridey

instead of sitting on the fence--' He broke off on a

sigh. The can't understand why we allowed it to get so

out of hand. We're not unkind people. A little misguided

. . . rather too easily prejudiced perhaps . . .

but not unkind.''

Siobhan thought of Jeremy Jardine. Was Peter

including Lavinia's grandson in this general absolution,

she wondered.

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Seven

Friday, 12 March 1999, 9.00 a.m.

'Can I get you a cup of tea, Bridey?' asked the

inspector as he came into the interview room.

The old woman's eyes twinkled mischievously. 'I'd

rather have a Guinness.'

He laughed as he pulled out a chair. 'You and

Liam both. He says it's the first time he's been on the

wagon since his last stretch in prison nearly twenty

years ago.' He studied her for a moment. 'Any

regrets?'

'Only the one,' she said. 'That we didn't kill Mr

Jar dine as well.'

'No regrets about killing Rosheen?'

'Why would I have?' she asked him. 'I'd crush a

snake as easily. She taunted us with how clever she'd

been to kill two harmless old ladies and then have my

poor Patrick take the blame. And all for the sake of

marrying a rich man. I should have recognized her as

the devil the first day I saw her.'

'How did you kill her?'

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