Truth Will Out (12 page)

Maude had telephoned the bad news that Lionel had been kidnapped and a ransom was demanded. Biddy knew that Maude would do anything to bring her husband home safely. When Maude told her the official police policy on kidnaps, she sympathized with her niece but advised her to be guided by DC Fleet. Now she worried in case Lionel was never seen again and Maude would blame her. Biddy couldn’t quite convince herself that the police were right but neither could she risk confusing the issue by persuading Maude to defy them.

She glanced up as Alice entered the kitchen with Primmy by way of the back door, and stopped chopping long enough to remove the dog’s lead.

‘Let’s hope the walk has tired her out!’ said Biddy, straightening her back with a sigh.

Alice was staring at the table. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘What does it look like?’ Biddy spoke sharply. She wasn’t in the mood to answer stupid questions.

‘It looks as if . . . Are you making a Christmas pudding?’

‘I am indeed.’ Biddy poured herself a glass of water and drank it all. It was a warm day and close and the kitchen still smelled of the ironing Alice had done earlier.

Alice looked bewildered. ‘But Biddy, it’s only June. You told me last year that you always make the pudding in September.’

Primmy rushed to her water bowl and drank thirstily.

Biddy’s expression hardened. ‘If I want to make the Christmas pudding in June it’s my business.’ She scooped the chopped dates into the large mixing bowl, sprinkled a handful of flour over them and reached for the figs.

Alice sat down. ‘Sorry, Biddy. You’re right. It’s not my business.’

‘You thought I’d mixed up the months, didn’t you?’ Biddy looked at her accusingly. ‘You thought I was getting vague – just because I sometimes forget things. Well, Alice Crewe, for your information I’m not losing my mind. I’m just under a lot of strain because of all this kidnap and police and–and I felt like doing a bit of cooking to take my mind off things.’ Despite her expression, her voice shook. She dropped the knife, snatched a handkerchief from her pocket, turned away and blew her nose loudly.

Then she said, ‘Not that I can imagine us ever having a normal Christmas again. I don’t dare think about the future without Lionel. And what it will do to Maude . . . It will be the end of her if he doesn’t come back – or if he dies.’

Alice said, ‘I’ll make some tea. And stop thinking like that. Of course he won’t die. Everything will be all right, Biddy. Trust me. It will. I promise you.’

‘Promise me? Don’t talk so daft, Alice! What do you know about anything? I don’t mean to be rude but what makes you so sure? It’s not some kind of game, you know. Not some story that is bound to have a happy ending. Kidnaps go wrong sometimes and the person dies. That’s what the policeman told Maude. That’s why I said she should be guided by him.’

‘Maybe she should follow her own instincts. Pay up and get it over with. That’s what I’d do in her shoes.’

‘Well, you’re not in her shoes and if you were you might feel very differently.’

Alice shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m an optimist. Maybe I don’t ever expect the worst. You’re a pessimist, Biddy. You can’t help it. That’s the way you’re made.’ She hesitated. ‘D’you want some help with the pudding? I can chop things for you, if you like.’

Biddy made an effort to relax. ‘No. I want to do it. I’m using a different recipe today. My grandmother’s. She always used black treacle but my mother didn’t like it. She thought it made it bitter so I’m going to use the treacle and add some extra sugar.’ Feeling more collected, Biddy went on, ‘A thousand pounds! Where will Maude find all that money?’

‘She can afford it. She’s got all those pictures and a part share in the gallery. A bank manager would lend her the money.’

‘Well, you know a lot more than I do then . . .’ She frowned. ‘Someone knows a lot about her. It must be someone who knows about pictures and also the gallery. I wonder if the police have checked on Mr Barlowe. What do we know about him?’

Alice busied herself with the kettle and teapot.

Biddy went on slowly, knife poised over the figs, the pudding forgotten. ‘Frederick Barlowe . . . He would also know where they are – in Hastings on holiday – because Lionel will have told him. Or if it’s not Barlowe, it might be someone who knows him . . . Alice, what do you think?’ When there was no reply she said sharply, ‘Alice! What do you think?’

Alice rolled her eyes. ‘I think you’re clutching at straws and I’m sick of talking about it.’ She set the cup of tea in front of Biddy and flounced out of the room.

Hurt by the sharp words, Biddy stared after her. ‘We have to clutch at something!’ she said.

The clock in the nearby church had just struck midnight but Biddy lay awake trying to work out a way to get Maude home. She hated the idea that her niece was alone in the hotel without a friend or a family member to support her during these agonizing times. Of course the hotel owners were being very kind and understanding but Maude needed someone closer to her. Unless . . . Maybe she, Biddy, could go and stay at the hotel to be with her. But that would mean leaving Alice alone in the house and she might not feel very safe. The visit from Jem had left them all a little nervous and they would never forgive themselves if anything happened to Alice.

She heaved herself over on to the other side, pulled the pillow into her neck and decided to sound Maude out on the subject.

Click.

Biddy froze. ‘What on earth . . .?’ She sat up, peering round in the darkened room. There were a lot of clouds and very little moonlight.

Click. Click.

The sound came from the window. Something was tapping at the glass!

‘Dear God, help me!’ she whispered. Was someone throwing stones at the window?

Gathering all her courage she clambered out of bed and tiptoed across the bare boards. When she reached the window she stood to one side, eased back the edge of the curtain and tried to see out without being seen.

‘Can’t see a blooming thing!’ she grumbled. Below her the lawn was cloaked in sinister shadows and for a moment nothing could be seen, but then she thought she caught a movement just below the window and a sudden break in the clouds revealed what she thought was a man. It was only a glimpse but she saw him quite clearly. He wore a long duster coat and a broad-brimmed hat that hid his face. Then it was dark again and Biddy’s heart was racing so fast that she dared not move from the spot for fear she might faint. She clung to the window sill until she recovered and then made her way unsteadily to the room next door and opened it.

‘Alice! Wake up!’ She crossed to the bed and shook the sleeping woman, who sat up in alarm.

‘What?’ cried Alice. ‘What’s happening?’

‘There’s someone in the garden. Get up quickly and look. He’s been throwing stones up to my window.’

‘But who would . . .?’

‘Get up and see for yourself! Hurry! He’s wearing very strange clothes – a long coat and . . .’ She followed Alice to her window and they looked out together on to the gloom of the garden.

‘I can’t see anyone,’ Alice said.

‘He was there, Alice! I saw him. His clothes were . . . Look! There he is – running away into the shrubbery. You must be able to see him.’

‘Well, I can’t.’

She sounded shaken, thought Biddy. There was something odd about her voice. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘I had to wake you. I’m sorry if I frightened you but . . . Who could it be? Not Jem, because he’s dead.’

Alice said, ‘You imagined it, Biddy. There was no man in the garden. I’d have seen him and I didn’t. I didn’t see anything.’ She climbed back into bed while Biddy stood indecisively by the window.

‘Alice, you
must
have seen him.’

‘Go back to bed! It was too dark for anyone to see anything.’

‘But I
saw
him. I know I did.’

‘You thought you did, Biddy. Maybe you were having a nightmare and got out of bed and imagined it all. Maybe you were sleepwalking. Just go back to your own room and get into bed.’

‘It may have been the man who killed Jem!’ Although they were her own words, they sent a shiver down Biddy’s spine. ‘I’m going to telephone Maude and tell her to tell DC Fleet.’

Alice glared at her. ‘If you do I shall telephone her and say you were having a funny turn and there was no-one there.’

‘
A funny turn!
You wouldn’t dare!’ Biddy was shocked. ‘You’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do, Alice Crewe! And I don’t have funny turns! What’s got into you?’ Her chest heaved with indignation. The words ‘only a paid companion’ hovered on her lips but common sense prevailed and they remained unsaid. Instead she said again, ‘I’m sometimes forgetful but I do not have funny turns! I know exactly what I saw and someone ought to be told.’

Alice sighed loudly. ‘Very well, Biddy. I take back what I said but look at it this way. I think poor Maude has got enough to worry about without you making it worse. If you tell her what you
think
you saw she’ll start worrying about us as well. She knows we’re unprotected here and she’ll imagine us being murdered in our beds. Leave the poor soul in ignorance – and let me go back to sleep.’

Biddy left without another word, too confused to argue further and half persuaded by Alice’s point about Maude’s other problems. She went back to bed but didn’t lie down. Instead she sat up, trying to focus her mind and trying to convince herself that she
had
seen a man in the garden and he
had
been throwing stones up at her window for some unknown reason. Either to frighten or to wake her or to warn her about something . . . Suppose he had been a friend instead of an enemy . . . But if he had been a friend he would never have run off.

‘Too late now!’ she told herself. ‘And I did see something and it looked like a man in a long coat with a hat with a wide brim. A bit like a highwayman!’ Which made no sense.

‘Unless . . .’ Her eyes widened suddenly. ‘Unless he was trying to awaken Alice and chose the wrong window.’ No, that was impossible. If Alice had a young man she had kept him very quiet all this time for no good reason. Maude had teased her once or twice about finding a nice young man to marry but Alice had always laughed it off, saying she found men conceited and self-centred, and she had no intention of marrying.

‘So . . . did she recognize him? No, surely not!’ No self-respecting suitor would come dressed like that, Biddy assured herself.

She got out of bed again and crossed to the window to see if the intruder was still out there. Peering into the darkness she could see very little, and nothing that moved or resembled the figure she had seen earlier, yet the memory of what she had seen remained stubbornly clear in her mind. Suddenly she came to a decision. She would face Alice with the question once and for all. If Alice convinced her that she had imagined it then where did that leave her, Biddy? She did not want to believe that her mind was beginning to play tricks on her. Senility was a word she feared because she had seen her mother slip into that confused state that robs people of their personality.

‘And all their memories!’ she murmured. Biddy’s mother had ceased to recognize her own daughter, had existed in a world that she no longer understood, and for that reason Biddy had been glad when she died.

‘But I’m not like that – I’m just a little forgetful!’ she declared.

Acting on impulse, she went back along the passage and knocked on Alice’s door. When no-one answered she turned the handle and went in. ‘Alice! I have to talk to you.’

There was no reply and, moving closer, Biddy realized that the bed was empty. So where had she gone? Down to the kitchen, perhaps, to heat a cup of milk.

The kitchen was empty too, but the back door was open. Primmy was fast asleep in her basket, which was odd. Hastily Biddy stepped back from the doorway. So Alice
did
have a young man! Biddy was engulfed by a feeling of deep disappointment. Alice, lying to them. Alice of all people! She sat down on a stool and waited, trying to decide what exactly she would say when Alice returned.

A moment later she heard footsteps and Alice appeared in the doorway. She looked shocked when she saw Biddy – as well she might, thought Biddy grimly.

‘So I was right!’ said Biddy. ‘I did see someone in the garden. Your young man!’

Alice hesitated, disconcerted.

Biddy said, ‘You could have told us. We’re not ogres. Why did you lie to us, Alice?’

Alice closed the door quietly then turned to face Biddy. ‘I went out to make sure there really was no-one there. I didn’t want to frighten you so I went out on my own with this.’ She held up a torch. ‘I wanted to reassure us both. There was no-one out there, Biddy. There was no man in a long coat with a big hat. So please, don’t alarm Maude. I’m sorry, but it was all in your imagination – or else it was a nightmare and it was very real to you.’

Biddy’s mind whirled. She was relieved that Alice had not lied to them about a young man but now she worried about her own confusion. She said contritely, ‘I’m sorry, Alice, but what else was I to think? You should never have gone out into the garden alone. If it
had
been someone you might have been attacked! You might have been killed! At least you should have taken Primmy with you. Her mad barking would have scared him off.’

‘I called her but she didn’t want to leave her basket. She just wasn’t interested. She seems to be very tired tonight.’

‘Tired? That doesn’t sound like Primmy. She usually has too much energy! I hope she’s not ill.’ She crossed to the basket and patted the dog. ‘Primmy! Wake up!’

The dog made a muffled sound then slowly opened her eyes. Her tail flopped twice by way of a greeting but she didn’t even lift her head. The two women exchanged worried looks.

Alice said, ‘She ate all her dinner. She can’t be ill.’

‘Maybe she’s eaten something that’s upset her.’ Biddy sighed heavily and got to her feet. ‘If she’s like that in the morning I’ll call the vet. We can’t let anything happen to Primmy. That would be the last straw.’

Leaving Primmy to recover, Biddy and Alice turned off the kitchen light and made their way up the stairs. As they parted company on the landing Alice said, ‘If we don’t get some sleep soon it will be time to get up!’