Anything For a Quiet Life (18 page)

Claire, who had come with Jonas, said, “I do hate that sort of thing. It’s barbarous. Give me a quiet private cremation every time.”

“I don’t know,” said Jonas mildly. “A lot of people enjoy funerals. And it doesn’t make any difference to the party chiefly concerned.”

“Not to him,” agreed Claire, “but I bet the leading lady was enjoying it all behind that tootsie little veil. She’ll be round to see you in a day or two.”

“Surely she’ll wait for a bit. A decent interval, anyway.”

“Would you care to bet on it?” said Claire. “I’ll make it an even fiver that she turns up before the end of the week.”

The telephone call came that Thursday, when Claire was in Jonas’s room taking dictation. She lifted the receiver, listened impassively, and said, in her most secretarial voice, “It’s Mrs Cullingford, sir. She wants to know if she can come and have a word with you.”

“Monday morning?” suggested Jonas hopefully.

“You’re in Eastbourne on Monday and Tuesday on that planning enquiry.” Claire had the desk diary open. “You’ve nothing on before midday tomorrow.”

“All right.” Jonas sighed, took a five pound note out of his wallet and passed it across the desk. “Tell her eleven o’clock.”

When Laura arrived she was wearing the same black suit but she had brightened it up with a fuchsia-coloured scarf at the throat and Jonas concluded that her sorrow for the loss of her husband was likely to be short-lived. He knew quite well what she had come to talk about, and after five minutes of sparring she came to the point.

She said, “My husband showed me the will he had made. I meant to bring it along with me, but it seems to have disappeared. He told me he was coming to see you. Did he show it to you perhaps?”

“He showed it to me,” said Jonas slowly. “That was the first time he came to see me. When he came here again – that was a week later – to sign his new will, he tore the old one up. Anyway, it was no longer effective, because the new will totally revoked the old one. But I always think it’s a mistake to have too many wills hanging about. It can easily lead to confusion.”

He had dragged this statement out to give Laura time to react. He saw the flush rising in her cheeks and the tightening of her mouth.

She said, “He never told me he was making a new will.”

“No?”

“Wasn’t that rather unusual?”

“Not really. I expect he planned to tell you about it later. There was no reason to worry you about it whilst he was alive and well.”

“Worry me. Why should it have worried me?”

Her feelings were very near the surface now.

“I’ve had copies made for you and the two executors. Perhaps you’d better read it.”

Laura picked up the document that Jonas had put on the desk in front of her, but seemed unwilling to pick it up. She said, “Two executors? What are you talking about? I’m his executor. The sole executor. He told me so.”

“That was in the old will. The executors in his new will are Major Appleby and Leopold Sambrooke.”

“Do they know about this?”

“They know about it and have agreed to act.” Seeing that Laura was making no attempt to read the document Jonas said, “You might find some of the legal terms confusing. Shall I explain it to you?”

Laura said, “Yes.” Her mouth was scarcely open, and the word came out like a hiss.

“Well, to start with, he leaves you all his personal chattels. That’s to say, everything he possessed outside the school.”

“Which was nothing. He had nothing except the school.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Everyone has something. Furniture, books, pictures, shares, money in the bank.”

“No shares. And an overdraft in the bank.”

“All right,” said Jonas, who was finding Laura hard to take. “He may not have had much, but what he did have is yours.”

“The school. Tell me about the school.”

“He left the school and the grounds to his executors.”

“What!” Not a hiss, this time. A scream. “He left the school to old Appleby and Sambrooke. Why? What had they done to deserve it?”

“Hold your horses. He didn’t leave it to them beneficially. They hold it on trust.”

“Trust?”

“The will tells them what to do with it. As long as the school carries on, the profits – that’s to say, the income it produces – goes in equal shares to you and Mr Delavigne. If they sell it, and they’ve got the power to do that, then again, what they get is split equally between the two of you.”

“Can I make them sell it?”

“No one can make them sell it. It’s a matter for them. Anyway, it’s clear that your husband wanted the school to go on as long as it could. I think that’s obvious from the fact that it’s the executors who have the right to appoint the headmaster.”

Laura sat in silence for an appreciable time. She was chewing over the bitter dish that had been served to her. He could see her mouth moving. Violent forces were working on her. He thought, she’s so far off-balance that she might do or say anything.

When she spoke the undercurrent of bile almost choked the words. She said, “You’ve got it all nicely worked out between you, haven’t you? But you’re not going to get away with it. I can promise you that. I’ll have that will set aside.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. I’ll go and see a real solicitor. One who doesn’t conspire behind people’s backs. We’ll see what the Law Society has to say about you, Mr Tricky Pickett.”

Jonas rang the bell on his desk, and Claire came in. She said, “Did you want me?”

“You’d better be here. If this lady proposes to slander me again, it would be as well to have a witness present.”

Laura left without another word.

Tim Delavigne was standing in the headmaster’s study looking out of the window. Dan’s sudden death had shaken the school from top to bottom, but the ship was slowly climbing back on to course again. All the parents had been sympathetic.

None of them had wanted to take their boys away. With any luck, he thought, he and Pamela should be able to cope.

A car came storming up the drive. Laura jumped out and slammed the door behind her.

Tim’s feelings towards Laura at that moment were ambivalent. He was sorry for her. The loss of her husband must, surely, have been a blow. When he had made some such comment to Pamela she had said nothing. She had neither agreed nor disagreed. In fact, she had been very odd about the whole thing.

Whilst he was thinking, in a puzzled male way, about women and their unfathomable natures, Laura came in. This time she did not slam the door. She left it open, stalked across to Dan’s desk, and sat down behind it.

She said, “I wonder if you’d very much mind asking me before you make free of my study.”

Tim stared at her.

“Until something else is legally and officially decided, I take it that I am in charge here.”

“Yes. I mean—I suppose so. Actually I thought—”

“Yes, Mr Delavigne. What did you think?”

“I thought it had been arranged that I should takeover.”

“Arranged? Arranged by who?”

“Well, by Dan’s executors.”

“I see. So you’re in the plot as well, are you? Well, let me tell you this, Mr Delavigne, that I’ve been having a word with
my
lawyer. Not
your
lawyer, Grandfather Pickett, but a young Cedric Porter who knows something about the law, and has a few manners into the bargain. And I showed him a copy of the will, and he said that until the executors had had a meeting and made an appointment, I was in charge. Well?”

“I expect he’s right,” said Tim. He was seeing a side of Laura that he had never suspected before and wanted only to get out of the room.

“Then perhaps you would be good enough to send Miss Ricketts to see me.”

He found Pamela in the Art Room and said, “Laura’s in Dan’s study. She wants to see you – and look – I’m afraid she’s rather upset. Hardly responsible for what she says. So watch out.”

“I’m not afraid of Mrs Cullingford,” said Pamela coolly. “She can’t kill
me
.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you later. Mustn’t keep Madame waiting.”

Tim sat down at one of the desks and stared at a well executed painting of three apples on a plate. He was normally courageous enough, but there was something frightening about mental imbalance.

It was five minutes before Pamela reappeared. There was a faint flush across her cheekbones, but otherwise she seemed unruffled.

She said, “Well, you see, she didn’t kill me.”

“What did she want you for? What did she say?”

“She sacked me. I’ve got to be out by Sunday night.”

“Sacked you? She can’t do that.”

“She seems to think she can.”

“What for?”

“I wasn’t quite clear about that. Either for impertinence or incompetence. Or maybe for both.”

“This is mad. What are we going to do?”

“I think we must have a word with Mr Pickett.”

“I’ll telephone him right away.”

Jonas listened carefully to what Tim had to say. He then asked to speak to Pamela, who was the more coherent of the two.

He said, “I can certainly act for you, now that Mrs Cullingford has gone elsewhere. You said it was Cedric Porter she’d seen? He’s quite a sensible chap. Better than his old father. I think I’ll have a word with him. Which means I shan’t be able to see you until later tonight. Could you both get away after supper?”

“We’ll do that,” said Tim. In fact the thought of supper with Laura had deprived him of any appetite.

Jonas caught Cedric Porter on the point of slipping away for a round of golf. He said, “If you don’t get stuck in too many bunkers you should be back in the clubhouse by seven o’clock. There’s a small room behind the bar that no one ever uses. Shall we meet there?”

He thought that Cedric Porter sounded relieved at the idea of a meeting.

“This is off the record?” said Porter.

“Certainly,” said Jonas. “Anything said is off the record and totally deniable.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m glad to have the chance of discussing it in a friendly way, because it really is a very awkward situation.”

“Awkward for everyone,” agreed Jonas.

“I’ve seen the will. I’m assuming that as soon as the executors can meet they’ll use their powers to appoint Delavigne headmaster.”

“Yes. You can assume that. Unfortunately Major Appleby has pushed off with a party of senior boys on some sort of expedition. He won’t be back until late on Monday night so the earliest he and Sambrooke can meet is Tuesday morning. And, I’d agree with you that until they meet, Mrs Cullingford retains a sort of residual authority.”

“Yes,” said Porter unhappily. “But I did point out to her that anything she does can be reversed as soon as Delavigne takes over.”

“What did she say to that?”

“Frankly, I’m not sure she was really listening. I hope she took it in and doesn’t do anything stupid. After all, she can’t do a lot in three days.”

“So far, she’s only sacked Miss Ricketts.”

“She’s done what?” In his agitation Porter dropped the golf ball he had been fiddling with and it rolled away under the seat.

Jonas retrieved it and handed it back to him. He said, “If I was a psychiatrist I’d diagnose her trouble as acute persecution mania. The six people who are persecuting her are her late husband, myself, Delavigne, Miss Ricketts, Major Appleby and Leopold Sambrooke. Dan is out of her reach, but if she could wipe out the other five, she’d do it cheerfully.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Maybe I was exaggerating. No – I don’t think she’s reached the homicidal stage, but it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.”

Cedric Porter said, “I trust you’re wrong,” but he didn’t sound very hopeful. “All I can suggest is that we ought to keep in touch, unofficially, until we can see what’s going to happen.”

“I agree,” said Jonas grimly.

When he got back to the office Tim and Pamela were waiting for him. Sam was doing his best to entertain them but without a lot of success. Tim said, “We both cut supper. Couldn’t stand the thought of it.”

“All right,” said Jonas. “Bring me up to date.”

“There’s not a great deal to report. Laura has spent most of the time in Dan’s study, with the door locked. Heaven knows what she’s up to. She did a lot of telephoning. I think she was trying to get hold of young Porter and was very put out when she discovered he wasn’t in the office.”

“In a way,” said Jonas, “what she’s doing is explicable. Grabbing Dan’s office for herself and sitting in his chair. She’s asserting the position she thinks she ought by rights to have had. What’s out of character, Miss Ricketts, is sacking you. She must know that she can’t make that stick. As soon as Tim’s appointed, which will be on Tuesday at the latest, he reappoints you. At least I imagine so.”

“At once, if not sooner,” agreed Tim.

Pamela said, “The real reason she’s trying to get me out of the place is that I was in the gym when her husband died. I didn’t actually see what happened because I was busy with some juniors at the other end of the room. I heard a crash and ran up. He must have been trying to climb one of the ropes and fell from nearly the top of it. It wasn’t the fall that killed him, Dr Brassie says, it was the effort of climbing. Actually, if you know how to do it, climbing a rope is as easy as walking upstairs. But I don’t think he did know.”

“Then why did he try to do it?”

“Laura was there. She’s made a point lately of coming into my gym classes and more than once she’s seemed to be making fun of Dan because he couldn’t do everything the boys did. Last week, I remember, they were going over the vaulting horse and she said, ‘Even tiny boys can do it. You ought to be setting them an example,’ which he did, easily enough. But clearing a vaulting horse is not the same as climbing a twenty-foot rope.”

“Did you actually hear her suggesting that he climb it?”

“No. But she may have thought I did.”

“Are you suggesting that she killed her husband?”

In the face of this direct question Pamela hesitated. “It’s an awful thing to suggest, but yes, I think she had the possibility in mind.”

“Why? To run the school herself?”