The Boat House Page 9

  Five minutes later Emmie and Edie came shyly into the room where Preston, with outstretched arms, was waiting to greet them.

  Marianne gave them a little push. ‘This is Uncle Richard, children. Give him a nice hug and say hello.’

  Edie moved forward and was hugged but Emmie hung back.

  Their uncle pretended not to mind. He straightened up then sat on the sofa so that he no longer towered over them.

  Emmie said, ‘Did you know our mother?’

  ‘Of course I did. She was my big sister. I was her little brother. She wrote to me and told me all about her lovely new babies – that was you and Edie.’

  Edie retreated a little, frowning.

  Emmie said, ‘Grandmother says that our mother wasn’t a very nice lady and she ran away and left us behind.’

  Taken aback by her directness, his smile faltered. ‘Well now, your grandmother only knew her for a short time but I knew her for sixteen years and that’s a very long time. So I got to know Leonora and she was very nice. She loved you both very much. She wrote nice things about you in her letters.’

  Edie took a step nearer to her uncle. ‘Our father went to look for her when she ran away but he couldn’t find her and then he died.’

  ‘In a car accident,’ Emmie added.

  It seemed to Marianne that they both sounded wary and somehow resentful and her heart went out to them as well as to their uncle. She said, ‘I’m afraid they are a little prejudiced but it’s understandable, in the circumstances.’

  He nodded. ‘It’s only natural. Orphaned at such a young age – I think they are coping very well, don’t you?’

  ‘I do. They are very resilient.’

  Emmie said, ‘But we aren’t orphans now, are we, because we have an uncle.’

  ‘Uncle Richard,’ said Edie.

  He smiled at them. ‘How would you like to go on a big ship and sail to America with me and see your other grandmother? Would that be fun?’

  The twins conferred in whispers for a few moments.

  Emmie said, ‘Would Marianne come with us?’

  ‘Because we like Marianne.’

  ‘Ah! Well, that depends.’ He glanced at her for help.

  Thinking quickly, Marianne said, ‘We’ll have to ask Grandmother, won’t we?’

  ‘Then maybe we’ll do that. But not yet. We’ll get to know each other first.’

  ‘You could stay here,’ Emmie suggested. ‘You could stay in the spare bedroom next to Neil’s room.’

  ‘Neil’s room?’ Startled, he glanced again at Marianne.

  ‘It used to be his bedroom,’ she explained, ‘and now it’s unused.’

  Emmie said, ‘Oh, but Grandmother uses it when she wants to talk to our father. He doesn’t answer but she does talk to him. I’ve heard her.’

  They stared at Emmie but Edie said, ‘Emmie listens at the door. It doesn’t matter and it isn’t really sneaky, is it, Marianne?’

  The two adults exchanged smiles. Marianne said, ‘It is a bit sneaky but I don’t think your father would mind.’ But Mrs Matlowe would, she thought, wondering nervously what else the children had discovered.

  Richard Preston decided to change the subject. ‘I thought we might go to the zoo tomorrow, twins. Would you like that?’

  Emmie shook her head. ‘Grandmother doesn’t like us to be out of her sight because we’re such a responsibility and she’s past her prime. She wouldn’t let us go to the circus with Aunt Ida.’

  ‘But if she says yes – would you like that?’

  They both nodded and Marianne said, ‘Just the three of you. I’ll stay home and write some letters.’ Smiling, she told their uncle, ‘You’ll get to know each other quicker without me.’

  ‘If she will allow it.’

  It was arranged that he would telephone later to ask permission from Mrs Matlowe. They spent ten minutes in the garden and then he decided to leave because the children were getting overexcited and Marianne warned him that if their grandmother noticed, she would have the perfect excuse to refuse his request for the outing.

  When he finally said goodbye, Marianne watched him go with mixed feelings, wondering what the next day would bring.

  SIX

  When Georgina left the children with their uncle she made her way slowly and carefully up the stairs, along the landing to Neil’s room where, as always, she locked the door behind her. Trembling and struggling to breathe she crossed the darkened room, bent down to unlace and remove her shoes, then climbed on to his bed and lay down.

  The pain in her arm had frightened her but she hoped she had hidden that from the others. There was no way she must show weakness, she reminded herself. They would all take advantage of her in their various ways, given the opportunity. Especially him. Oh yes! She had seen through Mr Richard Preston the first moment she set eyes on him. He wanted to take Neil’s children from her. It was glaringly obvious to anyone who had their wits about them.

  ‘Oh, Neil!’ she whispered. ‘They will drive me to distraction. Did you hear them – questions and lies and half-truths. They confused me so that I . . . If only you could have been beside me . . . I know we could have . . .’ She put a hand to her head. ‘Did you see what happened, dear? I had this terrible pain. I think I may have fainted because I found myself on the sofa with all of them glaring at me! I know they hate me. Yes they do, Neil. They were gloating. On and on about the wretched boat house until I was forced to tell them all about my poor Uncle Walter.’

  For a while she was silent, trying, as she often did, to picture her uncle but she could only recall his hearty voice, his smile and the tickle of his moustache when he kissed her. Uncle Walter used to tease her in the nicest way, making her laugh even while she protested. He called her Georgy Porgy. Smiling faintly, she recited the verse. ‘Georgy Porgy, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry. When the boys came out to play Georgy Porgy ran away!’ She used to pretend to be cross with him and he would run away, pretending to be frightened of her . . . So different from her dour father.

  Suddenly shivering and close to tears, she remembered the dressing gown and slid from the bed to stagger across the room to the wardrobe. She cast a guilty look at the altar. She would speak to Him when she felt better. Tugging open the wardrobe door Georgina pulled her son’s warm plaid dressing gown from its hanger. Returning to the bed, she lay down and covered herself with its rough wool, taking comfort from its familiarity. ‘The pain was in my arm, Neil. I don’t think it was anything to do with my heart, do you? I think it was just the strain, you know . . . all this worry. Not about you, dear, because I know you have forgiven me for not loving her the way you did, but . . . Well, we just didn’t like each other and . . .’ Her eyes closed. She smiled into the darkness of the room and waited hopefully for sleep to claim her.

  Sleep, however, refused to come to her aid and her mind continued to buzz with unanswered questions and dire visions of the immediate future with Leonora’s brother hovering over them like an ominous shadow.

  Abruptly she sat up on the bed. ‘Ida! I’ll speak to Ida. I’ll telephone her later when the staff have gone home and Marianne is in her room.’

  With the prospect of support from her sister, Georgina felt marginally stronger and she waited impatiently for the hours to pass before she could make a telephone call that was not overheard.

  At five to nine she could wait no longer and, seating herself on the telephone chair, she dialled her sister’s number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ida, it’s me. I have a favour to ask you. I was wondering if you’d like to come over . . .’

  ‘What, now? It’s nearly bedtime.’

  ‘Not now. Tomorrow. And stay for a few days.’

  ‘Are you all right, Georgie? You sound a bit . . .’

  ‘Of course I’m all right. I’m perfectly all right. Now do you want to come or not?’

  ‘What a charming invitation!’

  Georgina raised her eyes heavenward. Please God don’t
let her be in one of her awkward moods, she begged. ‘Sorry, Ida. I’m not altogether all right. That is, I had a funny turn earlier – a pain in my arm. I don’t think it was my heart. I think . . .’

  ‘In your heart! Oh no! What did the doctor say?’

  ‘He didn’t come. I didn’t want to make any fuss because he was here. The younger brother. I think I fainted but it’s all a bit of . . .’

  ‘Of course I’ll come over, dear. In the morning unless you feel I should come tonight. I’ll just pop a few things in a suitcase and . . .’

  ‘No, wait, Ida. The morning will do but as early as you can. The thing is this – he probably wants to take the girls out and naturally I . . .’

  ‘Oh, how lovely! They’ll love that. I thought you’d like him. Rather a dish, isn’t he!’

  A dish! How like Ida! ‘Hardly! I’m afraid we didn’t exactly hit it off and I don’t intend to allow him to take the girls out of my sight. Lord only knows what could happen.’

  ‘What could happen?’ Ida said incredulously. ‘What could happen is they could have a lovely time with their newly discovered uncle. What are you afraid of, Georgie? I think it’s charming that he wants to get to know his sister’s children – and perfectly natural. Legally he is related to them. I don’t see how you can refuse him time with his nieces.’

  Shocked, Georgina hesitated, thinking furiously. ‘But he might intend to take them back to America with him. I can’t let that happen, can I? Allow my son’s children to be dragged halfway round the world on a whim? Think what you’re saying, Ida!’

  ‘You’re their grandmother but his mother and father are also grandparents. Whatever you think of the family the grandparents are entitled to see their grandchildren. Look, dear, I’ll come over first thing in the morning and we can talk again but I don’t think you should refuse his request. If you alienate them they could refer it to the courts. The twins aren’t wards of court or anything, I know, but you surely don’t want any kind of trouble with the courts. Much better to sort things out amicably.’

  Georgina was finding it hard to breathe. Why on earth had she imagined her sister would be an ally, she thought bitterly. Trouble in the courts? Trust Ida to make things worse. ‘Look, maybe it’s not such a good idea,’ she began, ‘you coming . . .’

  Ida said briskly, ‘We’ll deal with it, dear. Don’t worry. I’ll be there about eight thirty. Goodbye for now.’

  Georgina sat there for a long time, newly alarmed, expecting the pain in her arm to return but it didn’t, so she went to bed. She would get up early and see to the spare bedroom. Lorna could run a duster round when she arrived and a few flowers from the garden would brighten the window sill. Was she pleased that her sister was coming to stay for a few days? She really couldn’t decide.

  While Georgina had been surviving the afternoon and evening, Richard had been with Donald Watson and his cousin. Matters were going well, he felt. He had read the letter that Watson had sent to the old nanny and now Judith was handing him her reply. In a spidery hand, Ivy Busby had said, ‘Dear Mr Watson, Richard is welcome at any time but please make an appointment first. Tell him not to worry – I am not yet in my dotage. Ivy Busby.’

  ‘Sounds promising, doesn’t it?’ Donald asked, sure of the answer. ‘The point is, as far as I can gather, the nanny was part of the household when the drama took place and was not sent packing until some time later.’

  ‘I wonder if she was in touch with my sister after she left.’

  Judith glanced up from the file through which she was patiently sifting. ‘If Ivy Busby was Leonora’s nanny as well as being nanny to the twins, they were probably close and may have kept in touch by letter after Leonora left. Leonora might have confided in her.’

  Richard frowned. ‘But surely if Nan had anything to tell she would have contacted the police.’

  Donald said, ‘Not if she had been asked specifically to keep Leonora’s whereabouts a secret. Even if Ivy Busby had no concrete evidence but just suspicions, she may have decided it was prudent to keep them to herself. And she was also probably mortified that she had been abruptly thrown out into the wide world after a long sheltered existence within a supportive family.’ He looked at Richard. ‘She may have thought, “To hell with the lot of them!” or words to that effect.’

  After a moment’s silence it was Judith’s turn. ‘Do you know if your family heard from the nanny after she was banished from the Matlowe household?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. But hey! I was only a youngster, remember, so my parents didn’t tell me everything. But Leonora wrote to me until she disappeared. We weren’t close while we were at home together but she seemed to need the contact after she’d left for England. Nothing, however, after she disappeared. I have a few of her letters that give a pretty clear idea of relations between Leonora and Neil’s mother.’ He produced a letter from his own file. ‘Shall I read it out?’

  ‘Please,’ said Donald. ‘Then Judith can hear it. She’s not just my secretary. She’s my partner most of the time. Right now she’s putting the Montini file to bed but she’ll be listening.’

  ‘Try and stop me!’ she laughed.

  ‘Here goes then. Dear Richie, Here I am again! Thought you’d like a few words from far away. I’m well and so are the babies. I am longing to bring them home. You will adore them. I know it’s a cliché but I truly believe that our two girls are the sweetest, the prettiest and the cleverest in the whole world. Neil is quite infatuated by them and whenever they fall asleep he waits impatiently for them to wake up again so he can amuse them with rattles and whatnot. He calls them ‘double trouble’ but in a nice way . . .’

  He glanced up. ‘I can imagine that. He was so excited by the idea of becoming a father.’

  Judith shook her head. ‘And then it all turned sour. Poor soul . . . But do go on.’

  ‘But you asked me about my new mother-in-law. I’m sad to say that Mrs M took one look at me and hated me! I know you won’t believe me but she did. I have taken her baby boy from her and she is never going to forgive me. Even Neil agrees that she is behaving like a jealous shrew and nothing I can do will please her. He is totally at a loss.

  ‘Neil has sprung to my defence on more than one occasion but that makes the old bat worse than ever. I never imagined that being a daughter-in-law would be so difficult.

  ‘Don’t say anything to Mother or Father, they will only fret about me and there’s nothing they can do to help.’

  He glanced up. ‘I think she was pretty unhappy around that time. It infuriated me that I was too young to help her in any way.’

  Judith said, ‘I suppose she needed to let off steam to someone and you were the one.’

  Donald said thoughtfully, ‘What are you actually expecting to discover, Mr— sorry, Richard. Her whereabouts? What happened to her? Are you hoping to find her after all this time?’

  Richard shrugged, hesitated and said, ‘A very good question! I don’t think I have an answer. All I could do to please her would be to quarrel with my beloved Neil and walk out of his life forever. Then she would have Neil and the two babies all to herself. But guess what, Richie? Your big sister is made of sterner stuff. I’m not leaving! Do write again. I long for letters from home. Your loving sister, Leonora.’

  Judith sighed. ‘I’m not leaving!’ she quoted. ‘And then we are expected to believe that she did just that.’

  Richard folded the letter then looked up. ‘I want to satisfy myself that nothing bad happened to her. I want to be sure that nobody . . . killed her. I’ve never felt easy in my mind that she just walked out on her husband and the twins. I tried to believe – we all did – that she had been on her way back to us when she met someone else and started a new life. That’s my parents’ version and it gives them some relief to believe that.’

  ‘But not you.’

  ‘Not me. I think she met someone on her way back to us – someone evil. I think she was murdered.’

  ‘But the police found nothing to
indicate foul play.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean there was nothing to find.’

  Judith had closed the Montini folder and now slid it into a drawer in her desk. ‘Mr Montini will soon have his headstone.’ Smiling, she leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk and clasping her hands. ‘So where do we go from here?’

  Richard smiled faintly. ‘You’re going to ask me if I suspect anyone. The answer’s no, but I am beginning to wonder about Mrs Matlowe’s part in all this. She seems so repressed. So hostile towards me. I wonder if she knows more than she’s willing to say. In other words, is she protecting someone? Her son, for instance. You say, Donald, that the police suspected him at one stage in the proceedings but they found absolutely no evidence.’

  Donald looked thoughtful. ‘From what I deduced from the police file it almost seemed at one stage in the investigation that Mrs Matlowe had suspected her son, although it seems very unlikely. Apparently it was Mrs Matlowe who first hinted that maybe something bad had happened to Leonora that prevented her from coming home when she’d cooled off. But that may be why Neil went off, allegedly in search of his wife but actually to avoid arrest.’

  Richard considered this for a moment. ‘You mean she alerted the police to the fact that it might have been her own son. A bit far-fetched, isn’t it?’

  Judith leaned forward. ‘She probably didn’t intend to – it might have slipped out. Maybe she heard them having a row . . . maybe Neil had a violent temper and she feared it might get out of hand. Then when she ran off Neil went after her and . . . maybe he found her and they had another row over his mother and he lost his temper, killed her accidentally and hid her body somewhere.’

  Her cousin frowned. ‘And then someone went after him and . . . What do we know about that car accident?’

  Richard shrugged. ‘You know, I went to that site where he was killed in the car crash. I spoke to the police and they were puzzled. The patrolmen insisted there was no other vehicle involved. Neil drove off a mountain road on a bend. One of them reckoned he had killed himself deliberately. Another reckoned he was just driving too fast for the corner. But he could have swerved to avoid a coyote or something. Or to avoid another vehicle that didn’t stop because the driver didn’t know he’d gone over the edge. Or claimed he didn’t know. There was a whole heap of possibilities.’