Charity (64 page)

Dorothy’s name and her face had stayed in George’s memory for more than her beauty. She had amused him all those years ago because she was so open about being a gold-digger. George appreciated honesty; it was a rare commodity in his world.

‘I want you to find out anything you can about this man. I’ll pay you for the information.’

She pulled out a photograph of Toby Stratton in uniform that Charity had once given her. George picked it up and looked at it hard.

‘An officer in Her Majesty’s eh? What’s this all about?’

‘I can’t tell you that,’ Dorothy said.

‘Can you just give a rough idea of what he’s done? Anything,’ George said. ‘It’s a bit like looking for the proverbial whatsit.’

‘I can’t, George,’ she said again. ‘All I can say is he’s a bit flash, he might use some of the clubs round here. I seem to remember you know everyone.’

‘The important people.’ He smiled, and for a moment he reminded Dorothy of David Niven.

‘Show it to them, then,’ she said arching her eyebrows delicately. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to ask you to be discreet?’

‘I’ll do my best.’

To her surprise, Dorothy discovered that she found the older man rather attractive.

‘I want to know everything about him. Absolutely everything.’

‘I’ll put one of my contacts on to it right away.’

George smiled with his eyes. ‘Where can I get hold of you?’

‘You can’t.’ Dorothy stood up. ‘I’ll contact you!’

‘And when we’ve got the full picture, what then?’ George asked.

‘That all depends on what you find.’ Dorothy made towards the door. ‘I’ll be in touch. And George – thanks! I had a feeling I was right coming to you.’

Chapter Thirty

Toby sat at the small desk in the drawing room, Nurse Giles a few feet away in a wing-backed armchair. His chequebook was in front of him and his pen, but he was trying to ascertain how little he could give to her whilst still appearing to be generous.

In a blazer, grey slacks and a white open-necked shirt he looked very much like the young Stephen in old photographs, and by the way Nurse Giles looked at Toby on occasions he guessed she wouldn’t mind offering him a little of her ‘nursing’ skills too.

Toby felt he was walking a tightrope. He was anxious to get rid of anyone who knew the Pennycuicks and their history and this nurse knew more than anyone. But at the same time he wanted her complete sympathy, to make sure she retained some loyalty to the family.

‘You do understand I don’t want to let you go.’ He gave her the concerned, anxious look he had perfected with women. ‘You were so good with my uncle and I know you’ve come to see Studley as your home. But I don’t know what else to do, Dawn. You see until the estate has gone through probate, I don’t have the money to keep you on.’

Toby had big plans. He would turn the old place into a country club eventually. But it was only a few weeks since he’d buried his uncle and until the police stopped probing and digging, he wasn’t going to do anything to raise anyone’s suspicions about anything.

‘I understand.’ Dawn Giles hung her head. She had been expecting this for weeks and was touched that Toby had been so kind and considerate to have kept her on with full pay all this time. But his compassionate leave from the army was up and he had to rejoin his regiment; apart from a bit of cleaning there was no place for her now. ‘You’ve been more than fair with me and I can stay with my sister until I find another job.’

‘The death of the colonel has left a big hole in both our lives.’ Toby sighed deeply, smoothing back his hair as if deeply concerned for her. ‘I thought he’d be around for years to guide me in my career and I feel too young for all this responsibility. I try so hard to believe in Charity’s innocence too, but she’s torn the family apart.’

‘You’ve got to try and put it aside,’ Dawn said, her maternal feelings aroused by Toby’s obvious grief.

Toby poured himself a large glass of whisky and sat down again once Nurse Giles had left. One more night here and back to his regiment to play soldiers and in a year or so, once the estate was finally his, he could buy himself out of the army.

He was just about to start on a second glass when he saw Prue’s car turn into the drive.

The Morris Minor estate she drove said all there was to say about her. Boringly practical and yawningly dull. He could almost bet she had a ‘Ban the bomb’ sticker on its back window. Toby got up quickly, tucked the glass under the settee and went to open the front door.

‘What a nice surprise!’ He tried to look delighted as Prue stepped out of her car. She looked halfway between a hippie and a frumpy housewife. Her long hair was scraped back from her wide face and held with a rubber band. She wore no makeup, a long smock-type dress and the kind of Jesus sandals only favoured by intense librarians. Toby often wondered why she made no effort to make the best of herself, but Prue was full of feminist claptrap these days and perhaps she thought by making herself look as unattractive as possible she would never be mistaken for a sex object. ‘What brings you here?’

‘I want to talk to you,’ Prue said with that tight-lipped look he remembered so well from when they were children. ‘I’ve got things to say to you, Toby. Where are the servants?’

‘If you mean Margaret, she’s doing some shopping.’ Prue had some wonderful expressions, but then she belonged in another century. ‘Dawn Giles has left now. So we’re all alone.’

Prue stormed past him leaving in her wake a faint hint of lavender water. Toby followed her into the drawing room and flopped down on the settee.

At closer inspection he could see she looked quite demented. Her usually pale face was flushed and he noticed at once she’d bitten all her nails. She didn’t sit down, but leaned one hand on the mantelpiece as if bracing herself for something unpleasant.

‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked. ‘And do sit down.’

‘I don’t want a drink,’ Prue snapped. ‘And I’d rather stand. I’ve had that friend of Charity’s down today.’

‘What friend?’ Toby’s stomach churned alarmingly.

‘Dorothy.’

‘Oh that old slag.’ Toby felt relieved. ‘I thought she’d gone off to America with some old man?’

‘She is actually a very charming woman, Toby. I think you’ve been leading me up the garden path.’

‘I don’t get you.’

‘You’ve been turning me against Charity. You told me Charity bought her promotions business with money earned from prostitution.’

‘So she did.’ Toby rearranged his long legs more comfortably and leaned back with his hands behind his head.

‘No she didn’t.’ Anger flashed in Prue’s blue eyes, turning them into accusing lasers. ‘Dorothy was very candid with me. There’s a world of difference between getting a friend to help out and going on the streets.’

‘Come on now!’ Toby laughed awkwardly and cursed inwardly. It looked as if Prue and this woman had had a real heart to heart. ‘You’ve often said yourself how odd it was that she got the money together.’

‘Yes I have,’ Prue admitted. ‘And I’m ashamed of that now.’

Toby couldn’t find anything to fight back with.

‘I was a louse,’ he said feebly. ‘I was just mad with Chas and I threw up a few things to get at her. When you’re angry you don’t think of what you’re saying. I’m sorry.’

He knew he had lost his grip on Prue now. She had many faults, but she had integrity. No amount of charm and sweet talking was going to bring her round.

‘Do you know, Charity has never once said anything bad about you to me?’ Prue slumped into a chair, and put her hands over her face. ‘I’ve been a selfish bitch. But the biggest mistake I ever made was not to suspect your motives when you said Charity was a whore. I should have gone straight to her and found out what your row with her was about. Maybe then she wouldn’t have cracked up, with someone on her side.’

She got up quickly and strode towards the door, then turned, her face like stone.

‘Don’t try and contact me again, Toby, not ever – and I shall make sure James doesn’t come near you either.’

She was gone before Toby could think of a reply. By the time he’d risen from his chair she was already pulling away in the drive.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The house creaked and rustled and he was scared, so scared he was shivering.

Suddenly he felt terribly alone. The old house didn’t seem so attractive a proposition and he still had that one last job to do before he would be free.

‘Oh Prue, let me look at you!’ Charity was on her feet the moment her door opened and she saw her sister standing there shamefaced. She didn’t feel the stab of pain in her back; she forgot too just how long it had taken for her sister to visit. All that mattered was that Prue was here now.

Prue had clearly made a great effort with her appearance. In a pink Laura Ashley dress, her hair loose on her shoulders, she looked like a rosy milkmaid.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Prue managed to get out before she burst into tears.

Charity put her one good arm round her sister and hugged her awkwardly. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she murmured. ‘Come and sit down and tell me all your news.’

Prue found it even harder to bear the fact that Charity only wanted to hear about her. No angry questions, no recriminations.

‘I’ve been such a bitch,’ Prue sobbed. ‘I shouldn’t have let Toby turn me against you. How can you ever forgive me?’

‘Because you’re my sister, and I love you,’ Charity said evenly. ‘Because all of us have scars from the past and we all have different ways of dealing with them. You’ve been a good girl, you used your brains to better yourself. I would have scolded you if you’d done any of the things I did.’

‘Scolded me!’ Prue managed a weak laugh. ‘That just about sums your attitude up. “Laid into me”, “whacked me”, that’s the way we were brought up – yet you use words like “scold”!’

‘I was always a bit feeble.’ Charity let go of Prue’s hand and caressed her cheek. ‘Don’t let’s go over the past though, it’s done with.’

‘But it isn’t,’ Prue insisted. ‘Look at your face. If I’d come to you when Rita asked me to, maybe I could’ve prevented that. I hate Toby. I’ll never speak to him again.’

‘Hush now.’ Charity put her finger to Prue’s lips. Prue brushed them away, looking at Charity in astonishment.

‘He’s a rotter, Chas, and you know it deep down. Stop protecting him.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Charity smiled. ‘But it comes hard to let any one of you three go. I’ve been holding on to you all for so long.’

‘Tell me about seeing Prue again?’ Rob asked.

It was the afternoon of the following day and Rob had arrived to find Charity looking very peaceful. She was lying on her bed because her back was hurting and he’d insisted she stayed that way.

‘She was so different,’ Charity said. ‘More like she was when she was little, sort of warm and caring. We talked about so much, about the kids she teaches, Tim, her husband and about the times back in Greenwich.’

‘Tell me about things you did together when they were small,’ Rob said.

Charity told him about the trips to Greenwich Park, doing the washing on Saturdays with James sitting between the bags of laundry.

She couldn’t see Rob without twisting her head round and in some odd way it made it easier for all the images to come back. She saw Easton Street, smelt the smell of the baths.

‘I used to tell them stories about the house I’d find for us all one day,’ she said. ‘I’d tell Prue she could wear her hair loose and have a blue velvet dress, and Toby could go out to play football whenever he wanted to.’

Rob listened carefully as Charity described Babylon Hall, her school and the chores she had to do. She had never spoken this fluently before; now her bleak childhood was spilling out, making him see and feel how it was.

But again and again she returned to the part about this fantasy house.

‘Why did you want to live away from your parents, Charity?’ he said softly.

‘To keep them safe,’ she said. ‘So Father –’ she stopped suddenly.

‘So Father – what, Charity?’ Rob held his breath for a moment.

‘So he couldn’t hurt Prue,’ she blurted out.

Rob waited. He could see that her neck and cheek were flushed, and her breathing was faster.

‘Like he hurt you?’

It was raining outside, a sudden violent shower that would soon be over and it had made the room darker.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Her voice changed as she began to tell him, it rasped in her throat, laboured and in pain.

Rob heard the stairs creak in the darkness, heard the wind coming off the river and experienced the pain with her.

Graphic descriptions with nothing held back. He could see the big man coming towards Charity’s small skinny body in the narrow bed, hear his panting as the terrified child cowered away from him.

‘I felt so dirty all the time,’ she croaked. ‘I couldn’t take in my lessons at school and they called me a dunce.’

Rob had this desire to take her in his arms, but he knew he must suppress it, because there was more to come.

‘When he said I was to leave and he’d find a job for me I was scared for Prue. I asked God to help me – and then the fire came.’

Charity had told him about the fire before, but never like this. He could feel her indecision on the stairs, hear Prue screaming, see the flames as they engulfed the house.

‘I was glad when I woke up in the hospital,’ she sobbed. ‘I heard the nurse telling me they were dead, but all I could think of was that I’d never have to see Father again.’

‘Have a sleep now,’ Rob said gently when she finally stopped crying. He put a blanket over her and stepped back. ‘You’ll feel better soon.’

Her eyes seemed to beg him to stay. Rob sat down on the chair by the bed and waited till she fell asleep.

He felt like crying himself now. He could remember the sixth-form boy who called him into his study at school when he was just twelve. The pain and dirtiness of that had never quite left him either. He’d tried to tell his father once, but he wouldn’t listen.

As Charity finally fell asleep, Rob stood up and looked at her. He could remember looking down once before like this, when she was asleep in the garden of the cottage. She was wearing his old blue shorts and a white blouse, her long silky hair white-gold against the deep green of the grass. His heart seemed to swell that day, just as it was doing now, and he knew the seeds she’d planted so long ago had begun to grow.