A Place of Hope (24 page)

‘Poor thing. I was sick all the time when I was pregnant, which is why I only had one.’ Rachel shuddered at the memory, then shrugged her shoulders. ‘As if you want to know that. Going back to Toby, perhaps if he could get a job he might be better off? Why hasn’t he done that, or at least worked in a sheltered workshop? He knows his tasks here well enough, so could obviously learn a simple job.’

‘Lack of work round here, or sheltered workshops. I wonder . . .’ Oliver looked thoughtful.

‘Wonder what?’

‘If he knows anything about gardening. Or would like to learn. I could do with some help to keep my place in order till I sell it.’

‘And I could do with some help to get this place in order.’ Emily’s voice softened. ‘I’d be happy to employ him. Giving people hope, Penelope said. I’d like to do that, Oliver. I’d like it very much. Maybe if you help us, I could start with Toby.’

‘You can’t do anything till we’ve sorted out the legal situation for yourself.’

She sighed. ‘No. I keep forgetting that.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I wonder what those two are doing.’

Kevin led the way round the house, hesitating at the back when he found the outer doors locked. ‘We’ll have to go and get the keys.’

‘Someone should have come with us,’ Pointer said sourly.

‘We’re disturbing their day. They’re not going to be happy to see us. Why should Toby come here anyway, now the old lady is dead? He doesn’t know these new people.’

‘But that lawyer said he’d seen him here.’

‘Yes, and that Toby ran away.’

‘Mrs Corrish is a hard worker. She keeps the group house immaculate.’

‘She’s more concerned with that than with letting the occupants move in and out of society.’ Kevin sighed. ‘It’s not easy, but Toby—’

‘She says he’s a trouble maker.’

‘Toby? No, he isn’t. He’s a nice young fellow who wants something more stimulating to occupy himself with.’

Pointer scowled. ‘Well, this isn’t getting that door open.’

‘I’ll go back and ask for a key.’

Left on his own, Pointer began to walk up and down the barn-like room. When a breeze ruffled his hair, he swung round, expecting to see Kevin returning and the door open. But the door was still closed.

Another breeze lifted the debris in the corner and swirled round him, throwing dust in his face.

‘What the hell—?’ He edged backwards, annoyed with himself for feeling nervous, but unable to help it. This place made him feel uneasy.

When a faint glow began to shine in a corner where there were no light fittings, he turned and fled back to the main house, nearly bumping into Kevin and Chad a short distance down the connecting corridor.

‘Something wrong?’ Chad asked.

‘No. Just . . . Well, it felt a bit spooky in there. Why would there suddenly be a breeze? And a light.’

‘I can’t imagine where the light came from, but I know what you mean,’ Chad said. ‘The old barn has definitely got a spooky atmosphere. A lot of these old places are like that. Anyway, I’ll open the doors for you and you can look round outside.’

‘You could show us round.’

‘If you want. But I don’t know the place very well myself, yet.’

Pointer moved outside, waiting for Chad to join him. ‘You’re a friend of Ms Mattison, are you?’ Chad didn’t seem to have heard, was wedging the outer door open with a big stone.

Kevin said in a low voice, ‘I can show you round the outhouses, Mr Pointer. I’ve been here before. No need to trouble anyone.’

‘You stay there by the door, Kevin. Just in case Toby tries to slip back into the house. I’m ready, Mr . . . what is your surname?’

‘Oh, just call me Chad.’

Pointer frowned at this. He didn’t intend to let any tricks like those just played spook him. They must have been tricks. Things like that couldn’t happen without human assistance.

The social worker shrugged and leaned against the outer wall, raising his face to the weak sunlight.

Pointer followed Chad around the back yard, opening every cupboard door in the old buildings, looking round suspiciously every now and then.

But there was no sign of Toby.

‘Satisfied?’ Chad asked. ‘There are no other buildings.’

‘I suppose so. But Mrs Corrish won’t be. She’s convinced Toby came here, says there’s nowhere else he could go.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve only just arrived.’

‘Close friend of Ms Mattison, are you?’

‘None of your business.’

Pointer blinked his eyes in surprise, saying nothing else as they went back inside.

Chad locked the outer door. ‘Let me show you out, gentlemen. I think you’ve disturbed Ms Mattison enough for one day.’

Mrs Corrish bounced out of the car and hurried across to them as they came down the steps. ‘Well?’

‘No sign of him,’ Kevin said.

‘Did
she
show you round?’

‘No. We went round on our own, then Chad joined us for the rear part.’

‘They’re making fools of you. Don’t listen to a word she says. I have it on very good authority that she’s losing her marbles, which is why they’re so protective of her. As for this Chad person, he claims to have lost his memory and says he has nowhere else to go. He’s using that as an excuse to cosy up to her. He wants to get his hands on all this.’ She waved her hand at the old pub.

Kevin frowned. ‘How do you know this?’

‘A friend of mine told me. Miss Mattison’s relatives are worried about her. My friend is helping her nephew and sister by keeping an eye on things. He’s a private investigator, that’s how seriously they’re taking this. It seems Miss Mattison was all set to sell this place at a profit till these people intervened. She’d have had enough money to be looked after comfortably for the rest of her life. Why would she change her mind about that so suddenly?’ She answered her own question. ‘It’s these people she’s met. They’ve persuaded the poor old thing to act against her own interests. You should do something about that. You’re a social worker.’

‘It’s none of my business. Ms Mattison isn’t my client. But she doesn’t seem like a “poor old thing” to me.’

‘You’re a typical bureaucrat. Close your eyes and stick to the regulations. Don’t lift a finger to stop people robbing an old woman blind.’

Kevin moved a few steps away from her, throwing her a look of disgust.

Pointer glanced from one to the other, shaking his head. ‘Well, there’s not much more we
can
do here if there’s no sign of Toby. As Kevin has pointed out,
he
is our client, not Ms Mattison.’ He turned to the social worker. ‘I have other work piling up. Let me give you a lift back to the offices.’

As they drove out of the car park, Kevin twisted his head to look behind. Mrs Corrish was on the phone again. Who was she ringing and about what?

Who was telling the truth here?

He sat lost in thought, thanked Pointer for the lift when they got back, and decided to make a couple of phone calls himself.

Not till later, though. After he got home. After he’d thought this through.

You could sometimes achieve a lot more by acting informally than formally.

George and Marcia arrived back at his mother’s house and went upstairs to freshen up before joining her for tea.

His mobile phone rang as he was about to go back down. ‘I’ll take this call first.’

‘I’ll wait for you.’

He was already speaking, his back turned to her and didn’t seem to have heard what she’d said. Marcia hesitated then stayed where she was. It was hard to find out exactly what he was doing, so she eavesdropped whenever she could.

‘This Mrs Corrish actually rang
you
?’ George sounded surprised. ‘She’s been inside the place?’

He fell silent, listening intently, nodding occasionally. ‘Good, good. Looks like she could be useful, then.’

Whoever it was certainly had a lot to say, Marcia thought, keeping very still and trying not to attract her husband’s attention.

‘Mmm. Well, thank you for calling so quickly. We must make sure my aunt doesn’t mess things up this time, poor old thing. She doesn’t realize how the coma has affected her judgement and brain. She had no idea how to deal with business matters even before this, so I’m trying very hard to protect her now that she’s so vulnerable.’

He listened again. ‘Are you sure they’re all staying with her? The lawyer as well? Why on earth would he do that? I don’t like the sound of it. They’re taking advantage of her. If you can find out anything about them . . . Well, I’ll pay whatever it takes within reason, but I’ll want daily updates.’

He ended the call and turned to see Marcia still standing in the doorway. ‘I thought you’d gone downstairs.’

‘I couldn’t help overhearing and I
am
involved in this, so I need to know something about what’s happening.’ She took a deep breath and burst out, ‘You’re going too far, George. Your aunt isn’t losing her memory and judgement, you know that.’

He grabbed her by the shoulder and squeezed hard. ‘Did we not agree that
I
would deal with the business side of things?’

‘You’re hurting me, George.’

‘I will hurt you if you interfere. My aunt has no need of all that money and would just waste it. It’s
family
money. Penelope was my relative too.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, my mother’s first husband’s relative, which amounts to the same thing, since the old hag had no children to leave it to. The money should have gone to my mother, or at least have been shared with her, and then naturally it would come to me.’

‘But George—’ She whimpered as his fingers dug in.

‘
Stop interfering!
’ He held on for a moment longer, tightening his grip.

Marcia was betrayed into a yelp of pain. ‘George, stop hurting me.
Please
. I won’t interfere again.’

Only then did he let go, gesturing with one hand towards the door.

Rubbing her shoulder and trying to fix a smile on her face, she left the bedroom.

Downstairs, Liz had heard her son’s voice as he answered the phone. She’d intended to switch on the radio, because she hated eavesdropping. But what she heard stopped her in her tracks, one hand stretched out towards the set.

She froze as his words sank in, and her hand went up to press against her mouth, holding in a cry of protest. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t heard their conversation herself. Not George. Not her son.

But then Marcia’s yelp and plea to her husband to stop hurting her proved that this was only too serious, that George definitely wasn’t . . . behaving nicely. And when Marcia cried out again and promised to keep quiet, Liz knew she couldn’t close her eyes to the situation.

Her son was a bully!

And he was trying to take money from Emily.
Steal it.

She’d wondered if George was being too careful with her money, but now, for the first time, she had proof that her son was withholding money from her for no reason. She’d been surprised when her income had dropped drastically after her husband died. What was George doing with her money?

And if he was stealing it, what could she do?

She wanted to weep, to cry out to him not to do this to her sister, but she couldn’t. She’d been slightly nervous of upsetting George ever since he became a teenager. He was so . . . powerful. Aggressive sometimes.

She clapped one hand to her chest as her heart began to flutter.

They were coming down the stairs now. How was she to deal with them without betraying that she’d overheard what they were saying? She was sure her face would show how upset she was.

Her heart beat faster, the room whirled around her and she let out a cry as blackness overwhelmed her.

Kevin got himself a glass of red wine, took a deep breath and phoned Oliver Tapton. He trusted the lawyer. Increasingly, he didn’t trust Mrs Corrish. But his main concern was as the social worker for his client, Toby. That above all. He felt guilty that he hadn’t realized things had got so bad for the poor lad. He’d been too tied up in his own troubles.

‘I hope it’s not an inconvenient time to call you, Mr Tapton.’

‘Not at all. Always happy to talk to you, Kevin. And I thought we’d agreed you were to call me Oliver.’

‘I got used to calling you Mr Tapton when I was a lad. I can’t seem to think of my parents’ friends by their first names.’

‘Well, call me whatever you’re comfortable with. How can I help you?’

‘It’s about Toby, of course. I really do need to talk to him, Mr Tapton. I’m worried about this running away. It’s happened too often. I knew he wasn’t exactly happy, but I hadn’t realized he felt quite so bad. When I spoke to him at his group home, he didn’t say anything, even though we were alone.’

‘He may have been afraid to. Someone may have been eavesdropping.’

Kevin couldn’t think what to say to that. Oliver’s voice was quiet, but it brought him back to attention.

‘Toby’s very frightened of Mrs Corrish, far more than is reasonable.’

‘Oh, dear. We were so proud of the amenities when the group home opened,’ Kevin said wistfully.

‘It’s people who make the world happier. I think they’re far more important than amenities.’

Kevin let out another gusty sigh. ‘Amenities help, though. Mrs Corrish came very highly recommended and she does look after them physically. The place is always immaculate and they’re well turned out. The food’s good, too.’

Oliver chose his words carefully. ‘But perhaps not enough of it. And maybe Toby needs more stimulation. But you’re right, of course. You do need to speak to him. Look . . . if he gets in touch, I could perhaps arrange a meeting with you on neutral territory, somewhere he’ll feel safe and able to talk. My house, perhaps? What do you think?’

‘As long as I can talk to him on my own.’

‘Of course. You can talk to him outside in the garden, if you like. No fears of eavesdroppers there, eh? He should feel safe to talk freely. Come to think of it, I’m looking for help in the garden. If Toby had a little job, that might help him settle down. I can teach him what to do.’

‘It’d be perfect for him to work with you. And if he
is
afraid of her, I may have to find him some temporary lodgings, move him out of the group home quickly.’