The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries (17 page)

Laura cocked her head on one side, thoughtfully. “You are wondering why Damian went to such lengths to tell us that his father had left the house to him? It was a bit inappropriate. You have to share my family’s mentality to understand the importance we place on keeping the house in the family. No, Uncle George would have left Damian the house even if he loathed his son – which he may well have done. Six new wives would not have changed that fact. And I doubt that there is any money outside the house to give to either Flora or a wife.”

“That’s what I wanted to know,” said Rupert more comfortably. “It seems that there may be troubles ahead.”

“What do you mean?”

There was a tap at the door and a call of, “Lunch!” from Flora.

“Wait and see,” said Rupert with an enigmatic wink.

They had polished off the hotpot and Damian and Rupert were helping themselves to apple crumble and custard whilst Laura finished off her wine and chatted amiably to her cousins.

“Have you been able to take time off work without any trouble?” she was asking Damian.

“Sadly, yes. Working in an estate agent’s office in the current climate is pretty undemanding. It is a good thing my father’s business collapsed years ago; it would never have made it through this recession. I’m honestly wondering about retraining as an English teacher. Perhaps I could get a job at Flora’s school!”

“Oh, that would be lovely!” exclaimed his sister, apparently not picking up on the note of sarcasm in his voice.

“You could write crosswords,” suggested Rupert. “It doesn’t pay much, but it keeps the brain sharp.”

“All right if you happen to have a rich wife!” said Damian bluntly.

The silence that followed this conversation-stopper was broken by a sudden, very loud jangling noise which made both Laura and Rupert jump.

“That’s my message tone,” apologised Damian, reaching in a pocket for his mobile phone. “I never hear it go off unless I have something dramatic.”

“Mine just beeps gently,” said Flora with a small smile as her brother glanced at the message which he had received and returned the phone to this pocket without comment.

Laura stood up to begin clearing the plates from the table and Flora hastened to help her. The plan for the afternoon was that Damian would visit the hospital whilst the others went out for a blustery walk. Damian departed promptly, leaving the ladies washing up together. Flora then spent some time showing Laura an album which included photographs of them both as bridesmaids at a family wedding when they were children and Laura reciprocated with some pictures of her little daughter, Florence. Eventually the three of them pulled on raincoats and ventured out in the direction of the village.

It was as well that they all wore boots, as the river had washed over the banks, across the road and was now encroaching on the row of cottages opposite. The first large batches of leaves had been whipped from the trees and were slippery on the wet ground. The church itself was on slightly higher ground and their route took them through the churchyard and up and across the fields beyond before they retraced their footsteps from the church again. As they walked past the row of cottages opposite the river one of the doors opened and a woman in coat, hat and boots stepped out. Flora looked at her with instant recognition and the lady walked over.

“Hallo, Flora: I was just about to walk along the riverbank to see how bad things are getting. I left my umbrella behind in case it took off!” She was pleasantly spoken and attractive, with large grey eyes and a sensible face.

“Oh, Elsa – nice to see you: this is my cousin, Laura, and her husband, Rupert. We’ve just been for a walk.” Flora seemed flustered and did not meet Elsa’s eyes as she spoke. “Damian’s at the hospital,” she added.

Elsa, in contrast, seemed quite composed and merely raised one eyebrow very slightly at the mention of Damian. She then greeted Laura and Rupert before saying, “I went in to see George this morning – not that he is able to recognise anybody. Still, I talk to him and tell him where I’ve been walking: maybe he can understand.” There was a real but gentle sadness in her eyes. She fell in to step with them as they walked back down the road towards Sunley Grange.

“The water’s not quite reached you?” commented Rupert.

“Like the rest of the houses in the row, I have sandbags. Still it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had the river in my front room. It is for that very reason I don’t have carpets downstairs – just quarry tiles and rugs which I can take up if in doubt. Of course there is always something that gets spoiled if the flood is bad enough, but it comes with the territory.”

“Although Sunley Grange is closer to the river, we are actually up a little rise, so the cottages are the first to get flooded,” said Flora.

They had reached home and Flora and Laura moved towards the entrance.

“I’ll walk a little further with Elsa,” said Rupert. “I want to see what the floods are like downstream.” He carried on around the path by the side of the house whilst the other two went in.

“Oh, it’s right across the path here as well,” said Elsa. “It must be across George’s garden. Oh, well, that’s something he won’t have to worry about,” she added a little wistfully.

“I gather that you haven’t been married long?” ventured Rupert, cautiously.

“Just over a month. Of course we had no idea that George would become ill: he always seemed so robust. We walked together a lot,” she explained.

“Were you going to move in to Sunley Grange at some point?”

Elsa shook her head. “No. George was funny about the house – this whole “inheritance” thing that I don’t really understand. I wasn’t after his money, if that is what Damian has told you. We had been friends for a couple of years and the wedding was George’s idea. To be honest I was amazed. I think it was just his way of marking me off as an official possession; not really romantic at all. I do love him, though. My first husband was abusive; George is a gentleman. It made a nice change. Do you know him well?”

Rupert shook his head. “I only met the family today. They are Laura’s cousins, but even she hasn’t seen them for years. Damian contacted her yesterday to say that her uncle was dying and asked if she would come to stay. I suppose he wanted some family support.”

“Most likely he wanted you to witness the fact that the will was in his favour!” said Elsa with the first sign of bitterness.

Rupert thought that this was very likely the case, so did not comment.

“I’m sorry,” said Elsa, after a pause, as they picked their way around the edge of the flood and back onto a path. “That was ungracious of me. The fact is that when we met at the hospital and Damian realised who I was, the first thing he did was to quiz me about his father’s will. And that was before he had been in to see his father! He wanted to know if George had written a new will to include me. I told him the simple truth – that when we married we agreed to be completely financially independent; not even move in together. After that Damian was tolerably polite to me.”

“It must have been very difficult for you.” Rupert settled for a safe platitude.

Elsa shrugged. “Honestly, I’m still in shock over George; I can’t bear the idea of losing him. George never spoke well of his son, so I wasn’t expecting to like him. The funny thing is, when I saw Damian at the hospital the night before last, I caught him looking at me with pure hatred in his eyes – just for a moment. It was actually rather unnerving. He was still polite to me, but it seemed to be a struggle. I don’t know what had happened to make him so hostile again.”

“That’s interesting,” said Rupert, more to himself than to Elsa. Then, after a short pause, “Do you mind if I ask you rather a personal question?”

Elsa gave a little smile. “By all means ask: if I don’t like it, I won’t reply!”

“Well, if George legitimately left you money – to Damian’s detriment – would you accept it?”

After the merest hesitation Elsa replied, “Yes: if it was legal. I have no liking for Damian. But you have to understand George – there is no way he would countenance breaking up the house, even to provide for all those closest to him. Ask Flora. I was also going to add that not one in a thousand would turn down a legitimate legacy, and that includes me: but then I remembered Flora. She may be that one in a thousand. George always said that her devotion to her brother was beyond reason.”

For a while the two of them walked on together in silence. The rain was beginning to get heavier so in wordless understanding they turned back when they reached a stile. As they neared Sunley House Rupert spoke again.

“Are you going to the hospital tonight?”

“Not unless there is any change in George’s condition and they call me. I’ll go again in the morning. Tonight I’m just going to curl up on the settee and watch television.”

“Laura and I are here for at least a couple of nights. If there is anything you need in that time, just ask.”

“Thank you.” Elsa gave him a warm smile and carried on down the road to her own home, Rupert pausing, despite the rain, to watch her go.

Sunley House was warm and welcoming after the rain. Damian had returned home just before Rupert and was still in the entrance hall removing his coat and sorting through some newspapers he had bought for them all to read. He looked grey and anxious, his thinning hair plastered damply on his scalp. Flora and Laura had started on tea and scones, but on hearing the men return Flora came out to get a fresh pot from the kitchen. As she passed Damian, he took her briefly by the elbow and said in a low voice,

“I really don’t think he will live another day.”

Flora gave a brief understanding nod and carried on into the kitchen. Damian and Rupert went to join Laura. Damian sat in a chair by the fire, placing the newspapers on a low table in front of him, and then seemed to make an effort to rally himself and talk to his guests.

“How was the walk?” he asked.

“Wet,” said Laura. “The church is beautiful, though. If we have the chance tomorrow I thought that Rupert and I might take a look around it.”

“Perhaps we can have lunch in the pub – all being equal,” suggested Damian. “I do appreciate you both coming. I just thought it would be better for Flora and me to have family around at this difficult time.”

They carried on chatting in a slightly stilted way until Flora returned with the tea. All of them accepted a fresh cup and Flora and Damian exchanged a few words about their father. After that they spent the remainder of the afternoon fairly companionably, reading papers and making the occasional comment about the articles they read. Eventually they all freshened up ready for dinner, which was only a light meal of seafood and pasta. When they had finished eating Damian said,

“At the risk of seeming rude, I’m going into the study to listen to some Beethoven and check my emails online for an hour or so. You two are welcome to watch some television. There are some videos in the drawing room at the back. I turned on an electric fire in there, so it should be warm. I’ll join you for drinks later. What are you going to do, Flora?”

“Oh, I’ve got a birthday card to post to a friend – I forgot all about it earlier. I’ll just walk to the post box and drop it in. I might even take a stroll through the village and clear my head. I should be back in under an hour.” Her voice seemed a little high pitched and nervous.

“Well, take care out there now that it’s dark,” said Damian with a show of brotherly concern. “But I will be interested to hear where the floods have reached. He left the kitchen and they heard the study door gently shut and the strains of Beethoven’s familiar Fifth Symphony strike up. Laura and Rupert sorted through a collection of films and Rupert picked out “Jaws” whilst Laura chose a book from the bookcase and snuggled down next to him. They heard Flora call out to say that she was leaving and the front door slammed behind her, probably caught a little by the wind. After about ten minutes, Laura heard the jangling sound of Damian’s phone from his study. Then his music changed abruptly, as if his mood had changed, and he put on some George Melly. Laura glanced up at the film, wrinkled her nose in distaste at what she saw, and returned to “Ivanhoe”. In the study, Damian took off the jazz after about twenty minutes and reverted to Sibelius. After an hour the front door banged again, there was a brief pause and then Flora entered – still in her coat but without her boots.

“The flooding is right up to the doorsteps of the cottages,” she announced. “I texted Damian and told him.”

“Is it still raining?” asked Rupert.

“Oh, yes, a bit. We’ll have to see what has happened in the morning.”

Just then Damian came in looking flush-faced. “Thanks for the text, Flora: I just hope the really heavy rain lightens up over night, or we could be in trouble. Right! – what can I get you all to drink?”

Soon they all had a drink in hand and they watched the end of the film. It still wasn’t quite bedtime and Damian suddenly and uncharacteristically declared, “You know, I don’t think I could sleep tonight: who fancies watching “The Lord of the Rings” films back-to-back? I’ve only seen them once.”

Laura and Flora both made varying sounds of dissent, but Rupert – who loved the films – looked like Christmas had arrived early.

“Well, I’m game,” said Rupert. “As long as there are snacks and toilet breaks!”

“Excellent!” Damian looked genuinely pleased.

Flora made it half way through the first film and then went up to bed, quickly followed by Laura. The two men, who had moved on to beers, could be heard occasionally chatting down the stairs. At about one o’clock Damian went to make some cheese on toast and Rupert crept into his bedroom to see if his wife was sleeping. She wasn’t; she was deep in her book, but put it down when Rupert came in.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“Oddly, yes – and I was ready to thoroughly dislike Damian,” Rupert said in a low voice. He sat on the bed and kissed Laura fondly on the cheek.

“What did you mean earlier – about there being trouble ahead?” Laura had obviously been waiting for an opportunity to ask this question.