The Twisted Way (18 page)

‘You should be comfortable here, madam,’ she said formally. ‘The bathroom next door has fresh towels for you. You will no doubt want to freshen up after your long journey and when you are ready I will serve tea in the lounge. The radiator under the window has been turned on. It is easily controlled by the knob at the side, turn it down if you are too hot. There’s plenty of room in the wardrobe if you want to hang up any clothes and there are some empty drawers in the dressing table. I cleared several at the top for your use earlier today.’

She gave Felicity‘s small case a disparaging glance. Not much of value in that, she calculated.

Joyce turned abruptly away. She had disliked Felicity on sight and, like the taxi driver, knew trouble when she saw it and she told herself that this woman was not to be trusted. She hoped that she would not stay too long. It would in her view take more than a hot radiator to thaw her.

Felicity looked out of the large bedroom windows. Some of the trees in the garden were still a glorious colour but a foggy haze now almost completely obscured the river. The normally attractive view was cold and unwelcoming. Slivers of a dull setting sun cut faintly through the mist and penetrated a gap in the heavy velvet curtains illuminating in an eerie way one wall of the room. The pale blue paint almost glowed and Felicity groaned. What a beastly colour, so cold and unfeeling, she thought. I much prefer green.

A man, not young, who she thought may be about the same age as herself or slightly older, was raking up leaves and placing them in a wheelbarrow. He looked vaguely familiar but she could not think why. She was convinced that she had seen him somewhere before, perhaps in a photograph. Strands of wiry grey hair protruded from an old woollen hat that he had pulled over his ears in an effort to keep warm. He had a small pointed beard and was quite small and wiry. He is probably an old age pensioner in need of a pound or two, she thought, though his jeans and thick fleece jacket looked as though they were very good quality garments. Oh well, he would not bother her. As she stared at him he glanced up towards her window and she noticed his piercing hazel eyes. She turned away. She felt disturbed and fancied that in some strange way he was looking right through her.

After hanging her few clothes in the big old-fashioned wardrobe she placed her cheap pink plastic-backed hair brushes on the elegant glass-topped dressing table, moving to one side the heavy silver-backed brushes that occupied it. She had come home and was certainly not going to depart from Primrose House in a hurry. Washing quickly she tried to make herself as presentable as she could with her cheap tacky make-up. Exhaustion and jet lag began to set in with a vengeance but she looked forward to a good cup of English tea. ‘Now for that food,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Hopefully there will be some decent cake and biscuits.’

As she ambled slowly down the stairs, her sharp sly eyes noticed with avarice the excellent collection of watercolours and oils that Janet and John had collected over the years and hung with pride above the wide staircase. They are worth a bit, she gauged. She strolled into the dining room where Joyce Skillet had set a tray, on which stood a delicate blue and white china teapot and dainty porcelain cups and plates, on a small antique dining table. On another table nearby there was a jug of milk, some dainty scones, iced cakes and small sandwiches. Pretty floral-handled tea knives and stiff starched napkins rested on the plates. Auntie certainly lives in style here, I could get used to this, she thought, and I will! She made an effort to exhibit a confident air, which she did not feel, as though she was already the mistress of the house. The idea pleased her and boosted her flagging spirits. She made an effort to play the part.

‘Shall I pour, Auntie?’ she asked in as sweet a voice as she could muster, though it came out as a rather unpleasant rasping husky tone.

‘Yes please dear,’ Janet said.

Felicity passed Janet her tea and offered her the scones and cakes as though she did that every day. Janet had a small swivel table by the side of her chair which she could pull closer to her in order to make dining easier. Felicity sat on a fine antique dining chair at the side of the dining table where she could eat and be near enough to her aunt be able to chat. She began to relax and was almost enjoying herself.

Janet too was almost enjoying having some company but could not overcome the uneasy gut feeling she had about this woman. She was not sure why she disliked her but knew it was due to something that had happened in the past. Janet felt mean and uncomfortable. She should be welcoming this niece, even if she was only an in-law, and because of the unaccustomed guilt she dropped her habitual guard and gave her a warm, though somewhat vacant, smile.

They sipped their Earl Grey tea laced with fresh lemon slices. Both women were stiff and wary as though they were partaking in an uneasy truce as they nibbled the cakes and scones, or rather Janet nibbled hers and Felicity ate hers with greedy abandon. She was hungry and had not considered it wise to spend her limited cash on a snack when she travelled to Everton Station from Heathrow but she was jolly well going to make up for lost time. Like James, many years earlier, she laced her tea with three heaped teaspoonfuls of sugar; anything less and the tea would taste insipid. She preferred milk to lemon slices and was determined she would make that clear next time. She also liked Indian tea. Earl Grey tea had a rotten habit of going right through her. What a foul taste it had. Felicity looked forward to making the most of her time with dear Aunt Janet and her thoughts raced. The old bird would probably not live long, not long at all if she had anything to do with it, and she hoped that she would one day be able to inherit some, if not all, of her money if she played her cards right, and she had every intention of doing that. In the meantime, well, she would see.

Felicity shivered and rubbed her hands together vigorously in an effort to dispel the coldness that had started to make her fingers feel stiff. Her cheap thin clothes were not helpful. They were her best summer garments and not suitable for a chilly month like October. She had been a fool not to pack one or two of her old knitted jumpers even if they had been worn, darned and only fit for the dustbin. She shifted in her chair. Her legs and back ached. It had been a long day and she longed for a good hot bath and early night.

‘It is rather cold in here auntie,’ she said in a petulant tone. ‘My clothes are a bit thin for the English climate. I didn’t pack enough warm things. It was silly of me. Are there any good clothes shops near here?’

‘Oh, quite a few,’ her aunt replied. She thought back carefully with an effort to the shop in Brinton which sold good quality clothes. This woman could certainly improve her style, she thought, though she probably does not have much money. She sighed and looked closely at the shabby niece. Vancouver could be fairly cold too. The woman was obviously trying it on. She was without doubt as poor as a church mouse, as her mother used to say.

‘Robbie, my handyman, will take you in the car to buy a few new clothes if you would like that. A pair of warm trousers, a jumper or two and a thick duffel coat would help, wouldn’t they my dear? You could go in the morning. I’d like to buy them for you if you will let me. Robbie has a few errands to do for me in Brinton tomorrow.’

She had an uncomfortable feeling Felicity would jump at her offer. Well, she had plenty of spare cash and no children around to spend it on, and the least she could do was to see that this woman had some warm clothes, though quite why she should feel like that she didn’t understand. The earlier feeling that she didn’t want this visitor returned. Hopefully Felicity wouldn’t stay long, after all an old lady with a failing memory would not be very good company for her.

‘Sure, Auntie,’ Felicity answered quickly, her Canadian accent coming to the fore. ‘I haven’t any spare cash though and don’t want to be a burden or sponge on you.’ Janet felt distinctly that was just what she did want to be but she would enjoy some company for a while even if it was James’s niece, though she would have to pay the price for it. She had no illusions about that. Anything or anybody connected with James would be trouble in some form or other.

‘That’s all right dear, I’ll treat you. I’ve not bought you any birthday presents for years; just think of a few clothes as gifts to make up for my past lapses. You can charge what you want to my account there. Mrs Betty Bumble the shopkeeper knows me well and will help you. She is rather a fussy old thing but she has good taste. I’ll ask Joyce to telephone her to let her know you’re coming and Robbie will go with you to the door of the shop to let Mrs Bumble know who you are. He can wait for you in the car when he has finished his business in Brinton while you shop in peace. Would eleven o’clock be all right?’

Felicity smiled to herself. This was going to be a piece of cake! ‘Thank you dear Aunt Janet, you don’t know how much I appreciate your kindness.’

Felicity thought that a few new warm dresses, tights, trousers, jumpers and some soft comfortable shoes too would not go amiss. The old girl could obviously afford them and would not miss the money. She hoped Mrs Betty Bumble stocked something decent and that her forgetful aunt would remember to ask Joyce to phone the shop in the morning as promised. She would remind her anyway. She felt a sense of relief and excitement that she had not felt for years. She was determined that she would stay as long as she could in Primrose House and ingratiate herself to Auntie. She congratulated herself on making such a good start.

Felicity decided that the first thing she must do after buying new clothes was to search for a copy of the old girl’s latest will. She no doubt kept a copy somewhere. There probably was not a safe, not the sort of thing her aunt would bother with she guessed, but she had noticed a locked bureau in a corner of the lounge which looked a likely place to store documents. She would find out how much the old bag was worth now. Pattie’s daughter still worked in her aunt’s financial adviser’s office in Everton. With luck Helen could find out even if it meant breaching confidentiality. She would probably have an eye to obtaining a good reward one day even if the financial adviser was tied by the Financial Services Authority rules. She struggled to repress a bubbling up of glee and greed which threatened to overwhelm her. Her face lit up in a veiled anticipation which Janet mistook for pleasure at the thought of buying some new clothes.

Janet was pleased to think that she could make this strange woman happy, though was not sure why. She suspected correctly, with an astuteness that her ailing mind had not yet wholly eliminated, that Felicity had endured a lifetime of poverty and unhappy relationships. She could at least offer her a little kindness now; indeed she would make an effort to do that. She vaguely realised that she was getting soft in her old age and a possible target for the unscrupulous but could not worry about it. She was just glad to be able to help and have a member of the family for company even if Felicity was not too delightful or a close blood relation. She could not be held responsible for her horrid uncle James. Thank goodness she did not resemble the beastly man in too many ways.

Felicity hovered round Janet and plumped up her pillows. Janet flushed with pleasure. Felicity decided that she would make herself indispensable as a companion, if only for a short while. She could just about stand that and if that smelly dog proved too much of a problem, well, that could easily be dealt with, she thought with malicious intent. A little something in his food would do the trick. As though he read her thoughts Jack made a lunge once or twice for her ankles. His teeth scratched her skin but she made light of his efforts. She would get round him with a biscuit or two, at least until she was well settled into her new home.

‘It is so nice ... to have ... some company,’ Janet stammered. Her niece may not be too bad after all and she could perhaps tolerate the woman for a short time. Well ... she hoped she could. Did she know her well? For a moment she could not remember.

Felicity bought two finely woven woollen trouser suits, several blouses and jumpers, cardigans and a stunning dress 
with an Irish label. Astronomically expensive but that was 
not her problem. Fortunately, Betty Bumble had a few pairs of smart leather shoes in stock, not a style Felicity really liked, but good quality, and a selection of fine lacy underwear, which she decided was her style though she had never possessed anything so delicate before. She ran her hands over the intricate lace and sighed with pleasure.

‘These clothes look lovely on you,’ the old woman cackled as she surveyed Felicity with her sly slanted grey eyes through ugly dark red-rimmed glasses.

She fussed and fluttered around Felicity who was not used to so much attention. She did enjoy the pampering although she considered Mrs Bumble to be a silly old woman who was too keen to sell her over-priced clothes. She was an ugly old bird, must be at least seventy-five Felicity thought; ghastly bottle-red hair, with long and spiky finger nails painted to match. They reminded Felicity of a chicken’s talons, though she had to admit that the woman’s clothes were smart and so well cut that they were able to hide some of the obvious lumps round her expanding middle which were making a strenuous effort to protrude, like heaps of stodgy blancmange, through the expensive material.

Mrs Bumble understood that Mrs Lacey would be paying for the goods. Felicity had her credit card and Joyce had phoned earlier in the day to say that this was in order. No limit with regard to the total cost of the goods had been mentioned.

‘Beautiful quality,’ ‘Lovely on you,’ and ‘Best I have,’ were words trotted out. ‘That really suits you dear,’ and so on. Mrs Lacey could afford the best and the best she would produce for her niece. Felicity was not concerned with the prices on the goods. She did not give the tags a single glance. She was in seventh heaven. She tried on an endless number of garments and thoroughly enjoyed herself.

‘I have a good handbag selection here, do have a look. This Italian leather bag would match your shoes and suits beautifully,’ Mrs Bumble pressed. Felicity agreed to have the bag without hesitation.