Risking It All (19 page)

‘I’m going to get that fixed, too. Sidney up in the attic is very handy with tools.’

I didn’t ask where Sidney had learned to be handy with tools. Probably cracking safes.

I didn’t want to hurt Norman’s feelings, but no way could I live here. I’d rather doss in a doorway. I said I’d let him know. He seemed surprised.

‘Don’t take too long about it,’ he advised.

I’ve never been so glad to be out of a place in my life. Standing on the wet pavement, breathing in the evening air and listening to distant traffic noises, I felt like one of those prisoners who climbs on stage at the end of
Fidelio.

The shop, when I reached it, was a haven of normality. Hari was selling the
Evening Standard
, Ganesh was restocking the cold drinks cabinet, Bonnie snoozed on her cardboard bed in the stockroom. I could’ve kissed them all.

The next morning, I took the train out to Egham and toiled up the hill to the hospice. The bump on my forehead had subsided and I’d taken the precaution of buying some concealant and covering up the purple bruise which had come out overnight. I would have to keep it covered. I didn’t want Ganesh asking me about it, quite apart from my mother. If she noticed.

‘How is she?’ I asked Sister Helen.

‘Quiet,’ she said. ‘Sleeping a lot. Last night she talked about you.’

I must have looked startled, because she smiled.

‘She’s very happy to have got in touch with you again.’

‘Sure,’ I mumbled, then asked, ‘what did she say, about me?’

‘That it was nice to see you managing so well and that you’d got a new job lined up. She hoped you’d come again today and keep her up to date with events, whatever they are.’ She twitched an eyebrow.

I didn’t respond to the unspoken invitation. I knew the events my mother waited to hear about. She hoped I’d come with news that I’d seen Nicola. I felt ridiculously disappointed. Aloud, I thanked Sister Helen for keeping the police at bay.

‘We’re here to make things as easy for your mother as we can,’ Sister Helen said calmly. ‘Naturally, she mustn’t be harassed.’

She gave me a steely look and I understood she meant I wasn’t to upset my mother either. The fact that she thought I might do that was in itself suspicious. I wished I knew how much Sister Helen herself knew. I got the funny feeling she was holding out on me in some way. But it was no good hoping she’d let on. Even if my mother had told her anything, she’d consider it akin to being under the seal of the confessional, and she wouldn’t go blabbing it out, not to the police, not to me, not to anyone.

I told her I understood the rules.

They’d moved Mum’s bed. It was over by the window so that she could see out into the garden at the rear of the building. It was milder out today, and the sun shone weakly. I didn’t know why they hadn’t put it there before.

‘Look Fran,’ she said when she saw me. ‘I can see the birdbath from here. The starlings all push and shove one another trying to get in. It’s quite funny.’

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked across her, out of the window, at the birdbath. There was a blackbird in it at the moment, ducking his head under the water, thrashing his wings, having a wonderful time. Water droplets flew everywhere.

‘I’ve been out to Kew,’ I said. ‘It’s where the Wildes live now. I saw Flora Wilde.’

My mother caught her breath, and colour flooded into her pale cheeks. She put out her hand and grabbed mine. ‘I knew you’d do it, Fran.’

‘Hang on,’ I said awkwardly. ‘She wasn’t very pleased to see me. I tried to explain. I told her about you – being here. But she was scared. I mean, you can see her point of view.’

But that was just what my mother couldn’t or wouldn’t see.

‘Oh, but she doesn’t have anything to fear,’ she said in that infuriatingly confident way. ‘I just want to know what Nicola, as I must call her, looks like. In my mind, you know, I still call her Miranda.’

Inwardly I groaned. She just didn’t want to know about any obstacle to the beautiful idea she’d had to send me hunting for my half-sister. I felt a twinge of resentment again. She wasn’t giving any thought to Flora or to me or to how much trouble could be caused. She’d just got this thing in her head about my seeing Nicola. The words ‘in my mind’ stirred unease in me. Was this really all just in her mind, as Flora had said? Had she transferred Miranda’s name and identity to another baby, not hers at all? Was the thirteen-year-old out there in leafy Kew my sister or not?

I took a deep breath and described the house in Kew to my mother. She was pleased it was so nice. Then I told her I’d spotted a school photo and described that. That really cheered her up. But it didn’t satisfy her.

‘You’re so near, Fran. You’ve almost seen her. You can’t give up now,’ she beseeched me when I ventured to suggest that perhaps my mission had been accomplished.

‘This is dangerous, Mum,’ I insisted. ‘The more I ask around, the riskier it all gets.’

‘How?’ she asked sulkily, turning her head from me to stare defiantly at the garden and the now deserted birdbath.

‘You don’t want Nicola to know the truth, do you?’

She was silent. My heart sank. ‘Mum?’ I asked. ‘What is the truth?’

She turned, looking surprised. ‘About what?’

I was miserably aware I wasn’t to upset her, but if I was to go on with my task, I had to be sure.

‘About Nicola. Is she really my half-sister?’ My mother was still silent. I felt as if I was walking in treacle. I struggled on. ‘She isn’t Flora’s child? You are – you are quite sure about that?’

‘Is that what Flora’s said?’ she returned. ‘I know my own baby, Fran.’ She put out a frail hand and stroked my cheek. ‘Find her for me, Fran. Speak to her.’

‘About what?’ I was horrified. This wasn’t what she’d originally asked of me. ‘You said you just wanted to know what she looked like.’

She gave me a strange look, like a child who’s trying to manipulate an adult into some course of action which it knows a straight request won’t bring about. Or was it a child who’d committed some transgression and was trying to shift the blame? I wished I knew.

‘It would be nice to know what her voice was like.’ She gave me a wheedling smile. ‘To know some words she’d actually spoken. I can’t see her, Fran. I can’t talk to her. You can.’ She sighed and closed her eyes. ‘I’m tired now. I think I’ll have a little nap. Come again.’

I knew I was being played like a fish on a line, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I told her I’d be back, and left.

Sister Helen wasn’t around when I passed the office. I was rather pleased about that. I wandered down the drive with my hands in my pockets, planning my next move. I should, I supposed, at least have another shot at going to Kew. I could hang around and I might catch sight of Nicola. Flora needn’t see me. I’d be careful. I’d be very careful. Next time she might come at me with a knife. I still couldn’t believe it had happened. Flora had looked so – so frail and dainty, like a bit of Dresden china. That’d teach me to make assumptions.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I muttered. ‘Even if Flora doesn’t get me, someone will. That’s Neighbourhood Watch territory. If a stranger hangs around there, it’ll be noticed. Someone will phone the cops.’

I’d reached the end of the drive. There was someone there, a man. He stood with his back to me, staring at the road. But as I reached him, he turned round. He stepped forward and to one side, blocking my progress. The pale face and straight dark hair, brushed back flat from a high forehead, were somehow familiar.

‘Miss Varady?’ he asked politely. ‘I was hoping you’d come today. In fact, to be honest, I was counting on it.’

‘You,’ I said, identifying him suddenly, ‘nearly ran me down in your car the last time I was here! Why don’t you just get out of my way?’

‘But I didn’t know it was you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I caused you a fright. Not, of course, that I’d aim to run down anyone,’ he added hastily. ‘I’d had some bad news and wasn’t paying sufficient attention, I admit. If I had known it was you I’d have stopped, because we really do need to talk.’

‘Do we?’ I said discouragingly. ‘Not that I can see.’

‘My name is Jackson,’ he said. ‘And all I want is half an hour of your time. I think you can guess what it’s all about.’

Chapter Ten

‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ I said, attempting to step round him.

He barred my way. ‘I really think it’s in the best interests of everyone.’ His voice was soft but determined.

‘I don’t even know who you are, and a surname certainly doesn’t tell me,’ I said sourly. ‘So how can I tell if it’s in anyone’s interests or even know what the hell you’re talking about?’

‘I’m an old family friend of the Wildes,’ he said. ‘I’m acting on their behalf.’

‘You’re a lawyer?’

He gave a tight little smile. ‘Hardly likely, is it?’

No, it wasn’t. The Wildes wouldn’t want the law in any form interfering in their particular problem. But there was another profession, not the law, but travelling parallel to it . . . and occasionally around it.

‘I hope,’ I said with sinking heart, ‘you’re not another private eye.’

‘Good Lord, no!’ he exclaimed, as if I’d made an indecent proposal.

‘That’s something, then. Go on,’ I told him. ‘Let’s have it. What’s the message?’ I might as well hear what he’d got to say.

‘Not here,’ he said quickly. ‘We can be seen from the building. That matron or whatever she is, I could do without her watching us.’

I told him that no way was I going anywhere with him. Specifically I wasn’t getting in a car.

He rubbed his chin and studied me. ‘All right, fair enough. You’re suspicious. Of course you are. Look, a little further up the hill is Royal Holloway College, part of the University of London. It’s got extensive grounds. What do you say we walk up there and stroll round the grounds. You look like a student. No one’s going to question you if you wander round showing a visitor, me, the layout.’

Reluctantly, I agreed. I have to say, I had a shock when I saw the college. It was a monster of a place, all red brick and white decorative bits like icing. The whole thing appeared to be modelled on one of those French chateaux. There were funny little turrets, balustrades and oddly shaped windows everywhere. Jackson and I walked through the gates and, turning right, began a slow perambulation around the place. There were plenty of other people about and no one took any notice of us.

Jackson could see I was fascinated by my surroundings. ‘It was built by a pill-manufacturer turned banker turned philanthropist by the name of Thomas Holloway,’ he said. ‘Aided and abetted by his wife, Jane. He intended it to be for middle-class women students. There were plenty of institutions looking out for the poor, and the daughters of rich families could look out for themselves. Holloway targeted the in-betweens.’

‘There seem to be plenty of men around,’ I said.

‘They’ve had male students here as well for some time.’

He seemed to know the place well. But we were getting away from the purpose of our being there at all.

‘Miss Varady,’ he said, ‘I know you went to see Flora Wilde. It really wasn’t a good idea. Now you’ve seen her, you’ll know that she isn’t very robust.’

I opened my mouth to tell him that the not very robust Mrs Wilde had floored me with a single well-directed punch. But I decided to let him talk on uninterrupted.

‘The Wildes are devoted to their daughter,’ he was saying. ‘Nicola is a very bright, happy girl. She’s gifted, musically gifted. She has a brilliant future ahead of her. Any parent wants to protect a child. You can imagine how determined the Wildes are to protect Nicola, and especially as the threat in this instance is based on a completely false premise.’

‘What?’ I snapped.

His voice was soothing, like before the nurse sticks a needle in your arm. ‘Eva Varady is given to flights of fancy. Naturally, she’s your mother, and your instinct – and your wish – is to believe her. So you haven’t questioned whatever story she’s told you. I’m suggesting to you now that perhaps you should. Have you any idea how much trouble you can cause by following the wishes of a woman who has always been very unstable?’

‘No one’s suggested my mother is or ever was off her rocker,’ I interrupted angrily. Other than Flora Wilde, who wasn’t exactly an impartial observer.