Deep Water, Thin Ice (39 page)

Alex sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Could she really imagine Theo courting her just to get Hillen Hall? After all, they’d started out as friends and he hadn’t pushed her into the relationship; he’d never pushed her. His first visit had been casual – it was she who’d taken him up on his offer of help.

She still held the photograph of the three boys and stared at it now bleakly. How alike Theo and Simon were. But when she thought back to those early days she remembered how Theo had cultivated that resemblance. No, he hadn’t pushed himself on her, he’d insinuated himself, and she, desperate to have Simon back again, to make good all that had gone wrong, had virtually thrown herself into his arms. That Theo was something of a chameleon, she’d noticed a long time ago. She had seen how he could change to fit in with whomever he was with and she’d labelled it affability and good nature. Now she wondered if it had a darker, more devious side. It had never occurred to her before that he wasn’t himself with her. So what was he really like, under all the changing masks?

She threw the photograph onto the bed and stood up, unsure what to do, where to go. She wandered down to the kitchen, vaguely thought of making breakfast but wasn’t hungry and drifted out again with just a mug of coffee in her hands. She glanced at her watch. Ten to nine. Theo would be on his way to Dartmouth now. She had all day to think.

She walked into the snug, drank the coffee and then paced up and down, rubbing her hands together, flicking her hair back, ramming her hands in her pockets and then taking them out again. Her glance caught the log basket and she remembered Francine’s letter, tossed carelessly into it so many days before. Suddenly she was down on her knees, pulling logs out of it and dumping them on the hearth, riffling through the odds and ends of paper that she regularly threw in there. Then she found it, straightened it out and brushed the dirt off.

…he was supposed to be meeting someone for lunch at Leone’s Bar, someone he hadn’t seen in a long while…
she read.
So who was Simon meeting for lunch that fateful day? She frowned. Something sat out of reach in her mind, something Theo had said which had struck her as odd. She felt a cold clutch at her stomach. Of course, it was the joke about the family weakness: he’d be needing reading glasses soon like Simon. But Simon only got reading glasses a couple of weeks before he died and Alex had never thought to mention it to anyone. There was no way Theo could have known unless he was the ‘someone’ who’d met Simon in London the day he died. Alex shook her head. No. Surely not…

The sound of the front door bell intruded on her thoughts and she jumped. Alex folded Francine’s letter, forced it into the pocket of her trousers, and walked into the hall. Through the upper glazed panels of the door she could make out Sarah’s head and shoulders. The bell rang again. Then Alex heard the key being put in the lock and turned, but the door wouldn’t open. The bolts had been thrown across.

Alex’s body froze but her mind ran feverishly on. Were her fantasies grounded in any truth or was her brain just running panic-stricken and wild? How much did Sarah know? And would she say anything if she did? Perhaps it was worth trying though. Alex forced herself to step forward, threw the bolts back, and opened the door. Sarah was just turning away.

‘Sarah,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm and mild. ‘You’re out early.’

Sarah turned back and smiled sweetly.

‘Alex…dear. So you
are
here.’ She glanced expectantly over Alex’s shoulder into the hall. ‘I thought I’d just call…on my way down to the shops. Everything ready for your big day tomorrow?’

Alex nodded. Sarah had done this regularly in the last few days – ‘just calling’.

‘Come in,’ she said, letting Sarah pass. Irresistibly she found herself glancing out of the door nervously towards the path. ‘Theo’s not here is he?’

‘Theo? No dear. He’s gone to work. Last time for a while. Just one more day to the wedding. How exciting. I’ve got everything laid out ready.’

Alex closed the door and turned to find Sarah had already walked through into the drawing room. She followed her.

‘I won’t keep you,’ said Sarah, sitting down with her coat still on. ‘I’m sure you must be busy.’

‘Yes. My sister arrives tonight.’ Alex hesitated. ‘Actually, I’m glad you’ve come.’

‘Really?’ Sarah looked both puzzled and a little suspicious. She sat pertly on the edge of her chair, hands on the handbag resting on her knees.

‘Yes. I’m rather nervous. I know it’s early but how would you feel about joining me in a little drink? I believe I’ve got some whisky somewhere. Will you keep me company?’

Sarah smiled, uncertainly. ‘Of course.’

She put her bag on the floor and watched Alex expectantly as she walked across to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and returned with two tumblers half full of amber liquid. Alex was aware that her hands were shaking slightly but Sarah didn’t seem to notice, took her drink and immediately swallowed a large mouthful.

Alex sat down on one of the sofas and tried to look relaxed, occasionally tipping her glass to let the whisky touch her lips. While Sarah drank, she chatted about the wedding and asked Sarah about how she’d do her hair; she talked about the honeymoon and how she didn’t know what to pack for it. She chattered as she had never done before to put Sarah at ease. When Sarah’s first drink had gone, she gave her a refill. As Alex sat down again, she glanced across at the clock, their silent witness. Then she transferred her gaze to Sarah who was sitting back in her chair now, looking comfortable and mellow.

‘I was thinking the other day,’ Alex began, ‘that it’s such a shame Julian didn’t live to see his brother married…or get married himself.’

‘It is,’ Sarah agreed. She smiled sadly. ‘But then if he had lived, Theo wouldn’t be marrying you now.’

‘Oh?’

Sarah frowned deeply and swallowed hard.

‘I mean we’d probably have stayed here in the Hall,’ she stammered, ‘and you wouldn’t be here…like this. That’s what I mean.’

‘I see. No, I suppose Simon wouldn’t have inherited Hillen Hall then, would he.’ Alex paused. ‘Actually I’d got the impression that Simon was involved in Julian’s accident. That’s rather ironic then, isn’t it?’

Sarah stared at Alex as if trying to work out if there was some hidden meaning behind the comment, but Alex’s face was expressionless and Sarah nodded. ‘Well, yes, that’s true. Simon and Julian were fighting down by the river, you see. Simon wouldn’t stop even when Julian tried to get away from him over the stones. Theo said the top couple of stones must have shifted in the fight, but Simon virtually pushed Julian into the water anyway. Of course he always denied it…’ Sarah shook her head and sighed, running a finger round the rim of the glass. ‘Poor Julian. You can’t imagine how difficult it is to lose a child, especially like that. Though it brought Theo and me much closer together of course.’

‘I’m sure it did,’ said Alex, more tartly than she’d intended. ‘And I suppose that was why Theo didn’t bother with his cousin again. I mean, they never met again did they? Even when they were older and had put it all behind them? I don’t remember Simon ever mentioning meeting Theo.’

‘Oh no,’ said Sarah emphatically. ‘They never met again. Simon stayed away you see. Well of course we didn’t invite him again. Not after that.’ She finished the last of her drink and looked at her watch. ‘I’d better get off to the shops,’ she said, putting the glass down on the table and standing up carefully. ‘Let you get on.’

Alex watched Sarah walk away, closed the door and locked it again. She leaned against it, thinking rapidly. She was sure Sarah was telling what she thought was the truth; but Sarah only knew what Theo had told her. Alex needed proof
.
Driven by suspicions she could barely even think about, she went upstairs to Theo’s study.

*

But for a couple more boxes, little had changed since the last time Alex had been in Theo’s private domain. Nothing had been put away, she noticed. It looked more like a storeroom than a study, a holding area for his belongings until he could move them elsewhere.

She walked to the desk and began pulling out the drawers and riffling through piles of paper: Theo’s hoarded mementoes. She worked her way through details of boats, menus and entertainment lists from cruises, old press cuttings which mentioned his name, old photographs from his student days and work. She found a photograph album full of pictures of his mother: old photographs of her as a young woman in a succession of glamorous dresses, photographs of her on the beach in a swimming costume, photographs of her with Theo both as a child and as a youth. There were no pictures which included Julian or his father. Alex leafed through it all quickly, her lip curling in dismay. It was disturbing proof of his obsession with his mother. How had it taken her so long to notice? But it was becoming obvious that Theo practised a smooth and insidious deceit. She willingly slipped the album back in the drawer, out of sight.

In a box file, on the floor by the side of the desk, was a huge sheaf of bank statements going back more than three years. She kneeled down, looking through them without expectation. All they told her was more proof of his lies; Theo was badly overdrawn. In another box she found his credit card statements. Now she paid more attention; Theo used a credit card to pay for everything – she should be able to map his life by where he used his cards. She wanted to know where he was and what he was doing on the day Simon died.

She leafed through the pile of statements for one card, each one a litany of his mounting debt, going back through the months, looking for the account for a year the previous October. She found it and pulled it out. There were a few local bills on it; one was an entry for the off-licence in East Walkham. From the amount she guessed it was for a bottle of champagne. How Theo loved to turn up with champagne. There was nothing else of interest. Abandoning it on the floor, she started with increasing desperation on the returns of another of his cards and came to the same October. Scanning down the sheet she found it: Theo had paid for a meal at Leone’s on the day Simon died.

She stared at it, gripping the sheet till it started to buckle. So it
had
been Theo whom Simon had gone to meet for lunch that day. And a few hours later Simon was dead.
There was one witness who said she thought he’d been pushed,
the policeman had said.

She pulled her eyes away distractedly and her gaze fell on the statement for the other card she’d left beside her on the floor. Champagne. She thought of Helen Geaton ‘accidentally’ falling downstairs after drinking champagne and the talk of her secret weekend lover. She remembered how Theo had suddenly become more available on Saturday nights after her death. It was all so clear now. But why, she wondered, did Helen Geaton have to die? What part had she played in any of this? Or did the killing just get easier, more pointless? She felt a sudden deep blood-chilling fear. If her worst imaginings were true, it was pointless to look for any sense in what he was doing. The man’s obsessions with his mother and the Hall had made him completely deranged and frighteningly dangerous.

Then she heard Theo’s voice, calling from downstairs. She must have forgotten to lock the back door when she came in. Now he was climbing the stairs and calling out again, bright and cheery, the same as usual: ‘Hello-o? Alex? Are you up here?’

Alex was on her feet, still bending over the file box on the floor, fumbling to put everything away, when Theo pushed the door back and walked in. She straightened up and looked directly at him, the desk half between them, the credit card statement still in her clammy hand and her heart thumping painfully in her chest.

‘Alex,’ he said lightly. ‘I didn’t expect to find you in here.’ He took in her ashen face. ‘What’s the matter? Are you all right?’ His gaze dropped to the paper in her hand.

‘Theo,’ she stammered. ‘I thought you’d gone to work.’

‘I couldn’t get through. The River Kella’s broken its banks. It’s pouring like a bloody torrent down the lane to the village. It was hell just trying to turn round and get back up the track. I wouldn’t want to be one of the poor buggers down the bottom at the moment.’

He took a step towards her, his eyes not leaving her face, and she automatically stepped back, catching her foot on one of the boxes on the floor and having to touch the desk to steady herself. He reached out and took the paper from her hand. He glanced down at it and nodded.

‘Thought you’d just check me out did you Alex?’ he said softly, sounding hurt and reproachful. ‘Scared I didn’t have the means to marry you? Surely that isn’t a big issue for you? You said all along that money meant nothing to you.’ He threw the statement dismissively onto the desk like so much waste paper. ‘Of course that’s easy to say when you’ve got a lot of it. OK, so I’m not quite as well off as I make out but that’s because I like to spread my money around. I’ve spent a lot of money on you haven’t I? You have to admit that.’

Alex opened her mouth to speak but her mouth was so dry, her throat so tight, that nothing came out.

‘My God, Alex, you didn’t have to go snooping through my things like some grubby private eye. You could just have asked me. We don’t want to have any secrets from each other do we? So I owe a little money…’

He’d taken a step closer round the desk as he spoke and she stepped away from him round it, and finally found her voice.