In the Blood. Philip Loraine
imagined him in Australia, Canada, that’s where black sheep usually get sent. Or wasn’t he a black sheep?’
‘I suppose he must have been. I don’t know much more than you do, Sally.’ And the purpose of her visit was to ask questions, not to answer them. ‘Any idea where this Mrs Howard went when she left Salisbury?’
‘She was talking about the south coast, last place I’d want to live. One of those stuffy towns, Eastbourne or Bognor. She wanted to be near her son and daughter-in-law—well, she was over eighty. He was a solicitor down there.’
Kate raised her brows. ‘Andrew? As in the letter?’
‘Yes, of course, Andrew. How dumb of me!’
‘She advised Grandmother to talk to him before taking any “steps”. I wonder if she did.’
‘I know she did; he came over one afternoon. Lots of curly black hair and very pleased with himself—I thought he was the pits.’
‘Even his mother says he’s a bore.’
‘That too, probably. He just thought he was God’s gift. Tried to feel me up in the kitchen, I damn near kicked him in the balls.’ She poured more tea. ‘Come to think of it, I suppose I was a bit curious about some things …’
‘Such as?’
‘This is going to sound nosey, but I never could understand the money side of it. Why did your grandmother have to bury herself away in a tiny cottage? She was used to that enormous house, what’s it called?’
‘Longwater. She lived there most of her life—until Mark decided to come home and take it over.’
‘Why didn’t she stay? She could have had a whole wing—biggest granny flat in the business.’
‘And live with Mark and Helen. You can’t share a house with people you dislike, however big it is.’
‘No, I suppose not. Is it true he never came back to see her, not once in all those years he was away?’
‘Yes, it’s true. He might as well have been in Australia.’ She had realized that Sally was incapable of sticking to one subject for more than a minute. Questions had to be simple and direct: ‘So you didn’t hear what those two old women were discussing—all that business about opening Pandora’s Box, and letting sleeping dogs lie because they could be dangerous?’
‘Not a thing. It wasn’t my business, and they’d shut themselves up in the sitting-room.’ She smiled. ‘I do remember Mrs Howard coming into the kitchen and asking me if your grandmother was talking … well, a bit wildly—obviously meaning did I think she was getting weak in the head.’ She looked at the letter: ‘I suppose this bears that out, doesn’t it? I said as far as I was concerned Mrs Ackland was as bright as a button. She was—even on the day she died.’
‘Must’ve been quite a shock, her death.’
Sally sat lost in thought, again twisting the lock of hair. Kate noticed that there’d soon be more than one chin, but she probably didn’t care. Eventually she said, ‘Yes, it was a shock all right, in lots of ways. I mean, why was I sent out shopping on that afternoon? For all kinds of things we didn’t really need, not urgently anyway. And nothing I could get in the village either, I had to go into town.’
‘And when you got back she was dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘The police must have thought that a bit odd.’
‘They didn’t seem to. I mean, it tied in with their theory, didn’t it? Accident. Blind old lady, steep staircase, companion not on hand to help her.’
With every step Kate took, every odd piece of information that came her way, she realized how little she and Daniel knew about the most basic facts. ‘And was that the Coroner’s verdict, accident?’
‘Yes.’
‘No sign of a heart attack or anything?’
‘None. That’s why a lot of people thought it was suicide.’
‘Did you?’
‘Good God, no. Why would she want to do that? She wasn’t ill or broke, she certainly wasn’t round the bend. And anyway a staircase would be such a … an uncertain way of doing it. Supposing it didn’t come off, you’d end up with a broken leg, hip, you name it.’
‘What actually did kill her?’
‘She hit her head on that ugly great newel-post at the bottom of the stairs. All pointed corners. I’d have sawn it off and chucked it out as soon as I clapped eyes on it.’
They fell silent. Kate had a feeling that there was no more to be learned from this straightforward, uncomplicated young woman; in any case it was time she went back to Hill Manor and got herself ready for the evening. She was just wondering how best to take her leave when, from upstairs, there came a shriek of rage, rising to an ear-splitting crescendo. Placidly, Sally said, ‘That’s Tom.’
A thudding of footsteps followed, and a moment later the door opened to reveal a small, roly-poly woman of perhaps sixty, only just able to carry a large child, exactly like Sally, and at the moment scarlet with rage. She nodded to Kate and said to her daughter-in-law, ‘Sorry, I can’t do a thing with him.’
‘Little bugger,’ observed his mother fondly, taking him in her arms and giving him a massive hug. He stopped screaming instantly. Kate seized the perfect opportunity for escape.
Daniel, when she phoned him that evening, wasn’t surprised that Sally had heard nothing of what had been said by their grandmother and her friend. ‘If she’d been that kind of person,’ he wisely observed, ‘old Lydia would never have employed her.’ He was much more intrigued by the identity of R, late of Salisbury and now living somewhere on the south coast. ‘Rosemary Howard, eh? With a solicitor son, Andrew Howard. You can leave that to me, I’ll find them.’ And, when Kate expressed doubt: ‘Do you mind! I am a researcher.’
Like his sister, he thought it odd that Sally had been sent out to do some unnecessary shopping on the afternoon of their grandmother’s death. Who or what had Lydia not wanted her to see? Or were more things about to be said which had to be kept secret? In any case, their next move was obvious: they must find Rosemary Howard and they must talk to her—pray God she wasn’t dead! There’d be no guessing as far as she was concerned; she knew, her letter proved that. What a mercy the terrible shelf had preserved it from being burned by Sally, or they’d have had no reason to embark on this fascinating quest. Contrarily, and only for a split second, Kate found herself wishing that Sally had burned it. She was surprised by the wish which had sprung from some inner recess of her mind, almost as if to warn her.
Daniel sensed this. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Suddenly you sounded … I don’t know—as if you’d gone off the whole thing.’
‘Don’t be silly, I’m as curious as you are.’ She was. And if there were any further reservations lurking in that same recess she could banish them with ease: because there was no mistaking her brother’s passionate interest; she hadn’t heard him sound so involved for years, and involvement, in his present condition, was worth anything.
Ironically, she was about to surpass him in this respect, propelled by a bizarre series of events, the first being a telephone call from Steve early next morning.
At the sound of his voice her stomach confounded her by turning somersaults, something it no longer had any right to do. He said, ‘I’m missing you like hell, Kate.’
‘Me, too.’
‘So bloody easy to say all those pompous things.’
‘Yes, but … you were right, Steve, we both knew you were right.’
‘Sod