He could hardly get his breath as he read the piece through carefully. The photograph was the one taken in the police station and made him look like a criminal. The name given was that of Francis Clitheroe, accountant, and he was wearing his heavy-rimmed spectacles, but he would be easily recognisable to his acquaintances in the pub and the students who lived in this house. Perhaps even to the newspaper vendor and the people who’d known him at the Exchange Hotel.
He panicked again; he couldn’t think straight. He wouldn’t feel safe here now that his face was in the papers. He had to get out of Liverpool straight away, to somewhere he wasn’t known and couldn’t be recognised. He started to throw some clothes into a suitcase and almost ran with it to the station. Where would he go? Llandudno, he decided on the spur of the moment; he’d never been there before.
Leo always had carefully made plans so that he knew what to expect. He found it scary to be in a train flying along the Welsh coast to a place he could only imagine. He had no idea where he’d sleep that night, and that was adding to his insecurity. When the train pulled into Llandudno station, he found it a busy place. He walked out on to the street. It was all lit up and there were throngs of holidaymakers everywhere.
He walked on, his suitcase bumping his leg; he must look for somewhere to spend the night. He found himself on the promenade, with waves lapping gently on the beach. There were courting couples with their arms round each other, and lights were strung out in a line round the bay. It looked beautiful. Hotel after hotel faced the sea, but they were all too grand for him.
He went down a side street and into a pub. He ordered a beer and asked the barman where he’d be likely to find a room for the night, one that was not too expensive.
He was directed to the outskirts of town. It was a small and unobtrusive private hotel with no licence for alcohol. More a guest house than a hotel, but just what Leo wanted in his present circumstances. He booked into a room and felt a little better. Nobody would think of looking for Francis Clitheroe here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
R
EX KNEW HELEN WAS losing her strength. The days when he could take her out for a meal and then have her spend the night with him had gone. She was clinging to him in a way she never used to. He felt she was looking to him for support and he didn’t know how to provide it.
This afternoon, before starting work in her garden, he’d sat with her in the summerhouse for a time. She’d said she felt tired and he’d left her to have a little sleep while he did some weeding. It was half past three when he went to see how she was. She was just opening her eyes. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ he asked.
‘That would be nice.’
‘I’ll go and make it.’
In the kitchen, Peggy was making fish pie for the evening meal. Marigold had pushed the pram down to the local shops for a walk, as Lucy had flushed her toothbrush down the toilet and needed another. Rex made a pot of tea and poured a cup for Peggy. She said, ‘There’s Victoria sandwich cake if you’d like some.’
‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘And I don’t think Helen will.’
He took the tray over to the summerhouse, and for a moment he thought Helen had drifted off to sleep again. She was lying back on a substantial wooden lounger. Joan had found a mattress to cover the slats and fit under the cushions to make it more comfortable for her.
‘I’d better sit up,’ she said. Rex helped her, raising the back rest and shaking up her pillows. He put a cup of tea in her hands, pulled up a chair and sat down to drink his own.
He was talking about what he would do next in the garden, but Helen sat there staring straight ahead and gripping her tea cup with both hands.
Suddenly she turned towards him. ‘Rex, I want you to do something for me.’ Her dull eyes stared into his.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘What is it you want?’
Slowly she put her cup down on the table. ‘I want you to help me to die.’
Rex’s hand jerked with shock, spilling some of his tea on his trousers. ‘What? I can’t do that!’ He was aghast. ‘I don’t want you to die.’
‘It’s hopeless. I’m not going to get better. I don’t want to go on.’
‘It’s not hopeless. I thought you were improving last month. You were much brighter. When we took you to see that specialist last week, he did some tests and seemed to think so too.’
‘No, Rex.’
‘Dr Harris thinks you’re getting better.’
‘No he doesn’t. He’s been to see me this morning. The tests they did . . . Well, they think the cancer’s spreading. They want me to have another course of chemotherapy.’ There was utter despair on her face.
Rex sat on the side of her lounger and put his arms round her. He felt terrible. ‘I’m so sorry, love.’
She was clinging, her fingers gripping his shirt. ‘I don’t want to go through that again, the sickness and the pain.’
He tried his best to sound hopeful. ‘This second course could cure you.’
‘I think it’ll just prolong my . . . I feel so helpless and useless. I’m making so much work for Chloe and Marigold. Please help me!’
‘It’s against the law for me to do that.’
‘I know, I know. I’m asking an awful lot of you. I’m sorry, but there’s no one else I can ask, is there?’
‘No, but I don’t want you to die. What would Chloe say? She doesn’t want that either.’
‘I’m going to get worse, and heaven knows how long this will drag on. I’ll never be without this awful pain . . .’
‘Dr Harris gives you something for that, doesn’t he?’
‘But it always comes back.’ It was a cry from the heart. ‘I’d like to go to sleep one night and never wake up.’
‘Helen love . . .’ Rex knew she was crying, and he couldn’t hold his own tears back.
‘I know it’s too much to ask of anyone, but please, please … Help me, Rex.’
Before he left, Chloe poured Rex a beer and they sat in the sitting room with Marigold and talked about Helen’s recommended second course of chemotherapy. He could see they were both in despair.
‘Just when her hair is beginning to grow back,’ Chloe mourned. ‘She won’t let me see it yet, but Aunt Goldie . . .’
‘She has to wash, and she can’t manage that without help.’ Marigold was stoical. ‘The other day she wanted me to measure it. It’s about half an inch long now. She said that when it reaches an inch and a half, she’ll throw away her wig.’
Rex could see that Marigold was fighting tears too. ‘She’s been so brave. Always trying to look on the bright side. But now . . .’
Zac let out a scream of rage and started to cry. He and Lucy had been playing together on the carpet.
‘What’s the matter, love?’ Marigold was on her feet in an instant.
‘My teddy.’ He was angry. ‘Take my teddy.’
Lucy was scrambling away with his toy. ‘He won’t play with me. Won’t let me near his things.’
‘Give it back to him.’ Marigold was stern. ‘This minute. You have a teddy of your own.’
Rex pulled himself to his feet and wished them good night. At home alone, he felt in turmoil. He wanted to do his best for Helen, but what was the best? He knew how much she’d suffered during her first course of chemotherapy, and to ask her to go through it again was heartbreaking for them all.
He understood how Helen must be feeling, but to help her take her life? The very thought of that terrified him. If he did, he might be charged with murder, but that wasn’t the most frightening thing about it. To take another’s life was the biggest decision anyone could make.
She was only forty-eight. That was very young to die. But in her place and her position? Rex asked himself what he’d want to do. There was only one logical answer: he’d want to die too.
The next time he was alone with Helen in the summerhouse, she felt for his hand. ‘Have you thought any more about what I asked of you?’
Rex could do no more than nod; he’d thought of little else.
‘I’ll make it worth your while.’ She still insisted on paying his company for the gardening services he gave. ‘I’ll leave you money in my will.’
‘Heavens, no! Not that! If I gain from your death, it’ll definitely look like murder. Please, leave nothing to me.’ He sat in silence, holding her hand.
‘I’m asking too much, I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Have you made a will, Helen?’
‘I made one when I first came back to live here. I willed everything to Chloe.’
‘Much the best thing. Leave it at that.’
‘Yes, she’s going to need a home for her babies, but now Marigold has no other home.’
Rex smiled. ‘Chloe isn’t the sort to put her out, she’s fond of Aunt Goldie. Anyway, she needs her here to look after her kids.’
Helen sighed. ‘Everything changes, doesn’t it? I expected Marigold to be another burden, but she’s been marvellous since she came to live with us. I don’t know how we’d manage without her now. And there’s Joan, she’s been a very good friend. I’d like to leave my bits of silver to her; she and Walter would appreciate them.’
‘That could be done by adding a codicil to your will, and you could leave a legacy to Marigold in the same way. Enough to give her a bit of independence, should circumstances change.’
‘Enough to let her know I love her and appreciate what she’s doing for us. It’s all likely to come back to Chloe or the children in the fullness of time.’ Helen sighed again. ‘Marigold and I, for a mother and daughter we’ve had a very strange relationship.’
‘That’s hardly your fault.’
‘No. Can you help me arrange these things?’
Rex thought about it. ‘I’ll talk to Chloe and get her to contact your solicitor. Better if it comes from her.’
Helen looked up into his eyes. ‘Especially if you’re going to help me with the other thing. Have you decided yet?’
‘Helen, I don’t know. I want to do what’s best for you, but helping you to die? That’s a huge decision to make.’
‘I’ve made it for myself. It’s what I want. I’ll not change my mind.’ She looked defeated.
He felt full of pity for her. ‘It’s brave of you to face it like this.’ He perched on the side of her lounger, put an arm round her shoulders and drew her to him. Having discussed all these intimate details, he felt they were closer than they’d ever been. Now there was a secret between them never to be told.
Rex had spent half the afternoon with Helen. When he was about to go home, Chloe stopped him and asked, ‘Will you stay and eat with us? Not just tonight, I mean every night. You come almost every night anyway. Peggy makes generous helpings and Mum’s eating less and less, so I know there’ll be plenty.’
He wanted to see her kindness as a sign that she cared about him.
‘You’re very good to all of us,’ Chloe said. ‘Mum says she looks forward to your coming, and what’s the point in you going home and having to start cooking for yourself?’
‘Thank you, I’d like that. It makes me feel like one of the family,’ he said. ‘It’s not much fun eating every meal on my own. But hold on, sometimes Helen has other visitors. I’ll not stay then, I’d be in your way.’
She was shaking her head. ‘Rex, you’re very understanding.’
He’d never seen so much of Chloe as he was doing now, and he’d never known so much of the minutiae of her daily life. He felt full of love for both mother and daughter.
She smiled up at him. ‘You’re as near one of the family as makes no difference.’
Wednesday was one of the days Rex worked in Helen’s garden, but today the rain was tipping down, so it didn’t surprise him to find the summerhouse empty. He put his head round the kitchen door and found Peggy making pastry and the room full of delicious baking scents.
She looked up, her face red from the heat of the stove; she had flour on her nose. ‘Helen’s up in her room.’ She smiled. ‘She was down here all morning and had quite a good lunch, but after that she said she wanted to lie down and have a little sleep.’
‘Best thing for her on a day like this,’ Rex said.
‘Yes. Marigold and Zac have gone to meet Lucy from nursery school; they’re going to get soaked. I told Helen I’d make her a cup of tea about now. I’ve got the tray ready, will you take it up?’
Peggy was pouring boiling water into the teapot. She added another cup and saucer and some home-made biscuits to the tray.
When he pushed the bedroom door open, he could see that Helen was awake. She smiled at him. ‘I was hoping you’d come,’ she said. ‘I want to tell you more about my plans.’
‘What plans? Will you have one of Peggy’s biscuits?’
‘No thanks, just tea. I’ve told you already really.’
He helped himself to a biscuit. ‘I was hoping you’d given up the idea.’
‘No, and I’m not going to.’
‘I do realise it’s a huge step you’re facing. But oh, Helen!’
‘I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. I’ll not change my mind.’
Rex’s mouth had gone dry. ‘How d’you intend to do it?’
‘I’m going to take an overdose.’ She said it so baldly, it made him shudder.
‘Of your pills?’
‘Yes, at bedtime. I’m on some new tablets for my pain. They’re said to contain morphine and they give me a lovely floaty feeling as I go off to sleep. If I save them up and take them all at once . . .’
‘No, Helen! You can’t stop taking what’s prescribed for you! You need them now to deaden your pain.’
‘This way, it’ll deaden my pain permanently.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘We all have to save up for what we want.’
That she could still joke brought a lump to his throat.
‘I take other painkillers during the day; Marigold doles them out for me every four hours. She and Chloe won’t let me keep the bottles up here any more. When I was getting over the operation, I had terrible pain and Chloe said I was taking too many. She said the doctor wrote them up to be taken at four-hourly intervals and I mustn’t take them until they were due. So now they’re kept in the pantry on the top shelf where the children can’t reach them. The trouble is, I can’t either.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘The pain takes no notice of the clock. If I’m in pain, I need them, but if I feel all right, I don’t. I sometimes tell them that I’ll keep my pill under my pillow and take it later.’