False Money (28 page)

Bea thought about that. ‘I remember that. It must have been either Duncan or Jamie. Which? Hang on, didn't Hermia say something about . . . ? Ah, I remember now. Hermia said Jamie had taken Tomi to a dance at the Dorchester and everyone had liked her. Gregor said something about Jamie keeping her for “best”, too.'

‘They seemed to have shuffled the girls around like crazy. Claudine, Tomi and Hermia went out with everyone in the group at one time or another.' He disapproved.

Bea sighed, rubbed her eyes. ‘We've done what we can until Tuesday morning. I'm going to cook an elaborate supper, and then – if you've nothing better on – I suggest we go to the pictures and see something mind-bendingly awful to take our minds off the problem.'

‘Do you fancy a horror film?'

‘Most certainly not. Nor anything with people getting blown up, or killing one another, or living in squalor, or pushing drugs.'

‘No reality check, then?'

‘None,' she said, with fervour. ‘Nothing depressing, by order.'

‘Shall I see if I can get tickets for a musical in the West End?'

‘Bless you, my child. The very thing. But remember – nobody is to die at the end.'

Soon enough he'd be acquiring a girl friend of his own and wouldn't think anything of her being left alone on a Saturday night. It wouldn't be long before he found the company of an eighteen year old girl more attractive than that of a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

The time passed, somehow. Bea enjoyed the musical, and almost managed not to fret while she was in the theatre. At bedtime she looked for Winston the cat, who often chose to spend his nights on her bed. She could have done with his comforting presence, but that night of all nights he chose to sleep on top of a cupboard in the kitchen and refused to be coaxed down.

She slept badly and spent a considerable amount of time on her make-up next morning. She swept her fringe sideways across her forehead and decided she needed a trim and a manicure while she was at it. She was due at the salon soon, wasn't she? Perhaps she'd look for a new pair of boots while she was at it, to cheer herself up. Something like the Italian ones that Hermia had been wearing. There she went again. Fretting.

She went to church and tried to concentrate.

‘The great day dawns,' said Oliver, rubbing his hands as he arrived for breakfast.

‘What “great day”?' asked Maggie. She was in one of her ebullient moods. Today she was wearing scarlet and Lincoln green; a colour combination to frighten the horses, but which seemed to give her the courage to tackle her work schedule on a dull Monday morning.

‘Ouch,' said Oliver. ‘Forgot you didn't know. It's the Day of Judgement. The case we've been working on finishes today, and we can tell you all about it tomorrow. Hopefully.'

Maggie crunched toast, offering Bea another cuppa. ‘Why can't you tell me now?'

Bea sighed. ‘I wish we could. It'll all be over by midnight. Until then, we're sworn to secrecy. The Black Dog is sitting firmly on my shoulders today. Don't you ever get a feeling that something nasty is about to happen?'

Oliver reached for the last slice of toast. ‘It doesn't interfere with my appetite.' The front doorbell pealed and they all froze, knowing the voice of doom when they heard it.

Oliver said, ‘No one else could have been killed overnight. Could they?'

‘Which one?'

‘What?' said Maggie.

On her way to the front door, Bea went through the list in her head: Duncan, Gregor, Jamie. Hermia and Claudine. She told herself she was being ridiculous, that it was probably Miss Brook at the door, having forgotten her key to the agency rooms below. And knew it wasn't.

It wasn't.

It was Chris and Hermia, holding up a distraught-looking Claudine between them. Hermia didn't look happy, either. At least the girls were still alive, though neither looked as tidy as usual. They were both wearing heavy jackets over thick jumpers and jeans, and brogues.

Chris hadn't shaved that morning and was also wearing the kind of clothes you pull on in a hurry: jeans and a T-shirt under a lumber jacket. He, however, looked very much alive; excited, even. He also looked thinner about the face.

Hermia put her arm on Chris's, to signal that she was going to take the lead. Bea reflected that if Hermia had been in an earthquake, she'd have been the first to keep her head, to start restoring order and repelling looters . . . with a gun, if necessary. Could Hermia shoot? Well, if not, she'd soon learn how. ‘Mrs Abbot, I realize it's rather early, but we're seeking sanctuary. May we come in?'

Bea ushered them in.

Chris said, ‘We've had a bit of an upset and need carbohydrates. Can you run to sugary tea and biscuits?'

‘If you're busy, we could make tea for ourselves.' Hermia tried to sound light-hearted and failed. Perhaps her self-control was not as iron as it had appeared to be?

Chris and Hermia practically carried Claudine into the kitchen and sat her down on a stool. The deputy head looked very far from her usual competent self – and why wasn't she at school today? Her hair was all over the place, her nose was shiny and her eyebrows barely in existence. She had no handbag with her. ‘Mrs Abbot, we're so sorry to barge in on you like this,' she said, in a voice which went high and low and cracked. ‘So sorry . . .'

Her mouth went out of shape, and she turned her back on them all, giving way to tears. Hermia put her arms round Claudine and said, ‘There, there.'

Maggie and Oliver stared at Claudine, then switched their eyes to Chris.

Chris said, ‘We spent the night at the hospital. We can't go back to Claudine's or Hermia's. I said you'd be able to cope if anyone could, Mrs Abbot.'

Bea reached for the kettle. ‘Maggie; do you have to be off somewhere, or can you stay for a few minutes? I promise to fill you in later, but this is an emergency. Can you take the girls up to your bathroom and see that they have everything they need before you leave?'

Maggie nodded. That was one thing about Maggie; in a difficult situation, she could be trusted to take a hint. She looked at the enormous watch on her wrist. ‘I could cancel this morning's jobs, but it would only make for more difficulties later on. I'll take the girls upstairs and then be off.'

Bea continued, ‘Chris; do you want the bathroom, too? You know where the one is on the first floor, don't you? Oliver; will you tell Miss Brook we're held up for a while, but will try to get down later?'

Maggie guided Hermia and Claudine up the stairs. Chris went off after them, to peel off on the first floor. Oliver, narrow-eyed, watched them go before disappearing down the stairs to the agency rooms.

Bea rested her forearms against the cupboard door and laid her forehead on them.
Dear Lord, it's happened. Whatever it is. Help, please.

She foraged in biscuit tins, sliced bread and laid it out ready to be toasted. Found clean mugs and plates, put them on the table. Added the box of paper tissues.

Chris appeared first, smiling with relief. ‘Thanks, Mrs A. I knew I could count on you.'

Oliver reappeared, moving silently around, helping Bea to lay out a suitable repast. Maggie thundered down the stairs, put her head round the door to say she was off now, and banged the front door on her way out.

Tentatively, slowly, the two girls descended the stairs and made their way to the kitchen. Claudine looked neater, but there were dark smudges under her eyes and her mouth was held in tight lines. Maggie must have found her a clean comb, for her hair was once more smooth and tucked behind her ears. Both girls had tidied themselves up, though neither was wearing tights or socks under their jeans.

Hermia made her way to Chris's side and took a stool beside him. Claudine perched on the stool she'd been given before. Oliver reappeared, on silent feet, and took his stool into a corner, out of the way.

Winston the cat plopped in through the flap on the kitchen door, yawned, and paced the room, sniffing at each pair of trousered legs till he came to Chris's, whereupon he raised his enormous yellow eyes and one paw, in his usual begging position. Chris, of course, was a sucker for it. He picked Winston up to give him a cuddle while Bea took orders; buttered toast, tea and coffee.

‘Eat first,' she said. All three nodded.

Claudine said she couldn't eat anything, but eventually managed one corner of a piece of toast. And then a whole slice. Hermia determinedly chomped through everything in front of her. Bea could read Hermia's mind: eat while the going's good, because you need it, and you don't know where your next meal is coming from.

Bea was beginning to admire Hermia, though she wasn't sure that she trusted her.

Chris pushed his third cup of tea away. ‘Explanations are due. Right? Claudine?'

SEVENTEEN

C
laudine had a little colour in her face now. She looked at the clock on the wall, then checked her watch. ‘I should have been at school an hour ago. I'm never late. I ought to ring them, but I haven't got my mobile.'

Bea pushed the landline phone towards her. ‘Be my guest.'

Claudine took a deep breath and made the call. ‘Is that . . . ? Yes, Claudine here. I'm afraid I won't be in today. There was a . . . an incident last night. Alan ate or drank something which made him ill. He's in hospital now, so he won't be in, either. They say he's going to be all right, but I'm . . . Well, you can understand I'm very anxious. I'll probably be able to get him home later. If you could make my excuses, rearrange my schedule . . . I'll ring you as soon as I know anything more.'

She tried to put the phone back on its rest, and managed it at the second try. ‘It was meant for me, of course.'

Hermia muttered, ‘From the beginning, Claudine.'

‘Yes, of course.' She pressed her fingers to her forehead. ‘We had a good time in Brussels, returned on Eurostar, dead on time. On the way back I took a phone call from Gregor, who said he'd been to see you. He suggested I drank only bottled water for the time being. We took a taxi from the station. While Alan paid the taxi, I went ahead and opened up. There was a bottle of flavoured mineral water outside our front door. I thought it must be from Gregor. I picked it up and took it in, but I wasn't thirsty because we'd had sandwiches and a mineral water on the train.

‘Travelling tires me out. Alan loves it. I wanted to go to bed straight away and he wanted to stay up and talk. We had a bit of a spat.' She closed her eyes and shuddered. ‘I keep thinking, if only . . . But he's going to be all right, they say.'

Hermia pressed Claudine's hand and she continued. ‘Alan said he'd stay up to mark some papers. I said I'd get up early and do mine. He's a night owl, I'm an early bird. We're really not compatible. Anyway, I went to bed. Actually, I slammed the door on him and stomped off. It was only about half past nine, but I was tired. I had a long hot bath, went to bed and fell asleep.

‘I woke up about half past twelve and went to the bathroom. He hadn't come to bed and the light was still on in the living room. I went in, thinking he'd fallen asleep over his papers, and he had. At least, that's what I thought at first. So I shook him, and he just flopped back. He was snoring. He doesn't usually, you know.

‘Then I saw the bottle of water was almost half empty. I'd had a cheese sandwich on the train, but he'd had ham and I suppose that had made him thirsty. I suddenly thought that maybe that bottle of water hadn't been put there by Gregor. I dialled nine nine nine, and they said to get Alan on his feet and walk him around till the medics got there, though there might be a delay because there'd been a multi-car smash nearby and the roads were blocked. I tried to get him on his feet, but couldn't because he's much bigger than me, so I rang Hermia. I knew she'd help, no matter what time it was.'

Here she turned Hermia's hand within hers and gave her a ghost of a smile.

‘Hermia came, and we walked him up and down between us. When the medics arrived they tried to wake him and couldn't, so they took him off to pump out his stomach and I threw on some clothes and Hermia took me to the hospital and we waited and waited. We talked about how I'd found the bottle and that it might have been intended for me and not for Alan. It was about four o'clock by then. Hermia rang Gregor on her mobile, and he said he hadn't delivered any bottled water to me, nor to anyone else.'