Guilt in the Cotswolds (22 page)

‘Well, nobody, really. I know Mr Martin Teasdale slightly. I saw him just now, outside. Why isn’t he following the ambulance?’

‘I expect he will. It’s all been such a shock for him, you see. Everything happened at once.’

‘How long has he been here, old Mr Teasdale, I mean?’

‘Five years, more or less. He’s always been very popular. Are you a relative? Or what?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry to have come at such a bad time. I didn’t see the ambulance.’

‘It was half an hour ago now, at least. The solicitor woman wanted to check some paperwork. It did seem a bit insensitive, but she said she’d come quite a way and it made sense to do it now.’

‘Did they speak to the old man? Was he well enough to see them?’

‘Oh, yes. They were here right after lunch, and talked for an hour or so.’ She frowned angrily. ‘If you want to know my opinion, it was their fault that he collapsed. You could almost say they killed him – although you’re not to quote me on that.’ She shivered. ‘Forget I ever said it. I don’t know
what
I’m saying, to be honest. It was all so quick and upsetting.’

‘I’m sorry to have bothered you,’ said Thea. ‘Terrible timing on my part. I’ll go.’ And she went, thinking she had done well not to reveal her name or reason for being there. With luck, Mrs Saunders would forget all about her in the turmoil of the afternoon’s events.

There was only one imaginable place to drive to next. It wasn’t far, heading north on the A3400, which was not a familiar route, and rather busy with end-of-day traffic. But it was well signed, and she had a groundless confidence that she would find the way mainly by instinct. Scrappy random thoughts filled her head, one of which was
Thank goodness I filled up with petrol on Saturday, with all this driving I’m doing
.

Rita Wilshire was greatly changed since the morning. She had shrunk in size, for one thing, hunched in her chair with bowed head. Mrs Goodison warned Thea that she would be shocked. ‘It happens like this sometimes,’ the matron said. ‘I’m not sure I should allow visitors, actually, but she did say she would see anybody who came. I think she had you in mind.’

‘Really?’

‘Just a hunch. I don’t mind telling you this has been a very distressing few days for us all. It isn’t often I have to deal with someone whose son has been murdered, as you might imagine.’

‘I don’t suppose it is,’ said Thea, heading down the corridor unescorted.

The old lady revived slightly when she realised who had come into her room. ‘You telephoned,’ she said.

‘I did. You told me the whole thing was your fault. I think I understand what you meant by that now.’

‘Clever girl.’ Her voice was weak, almost inaudible at times. But she put in a visible effort to speak her mind. ‘It’s strange, you know – I never felt a bit of guilt at the time. My husband was a useless creature, always depressed or distracted. Martin came to us when Dawn died, like a ready-made son. It all seemed to fit so neatly.’

‘Did you remain in touch with his father all along?’

‘Oh, no. He was in the Forces, you see. Burma. Prison camps, that awful railway and malaria and all that. He came back a wreck. It’s miraculous he’s lived so long, after all that damage.’

‘It’s all so long ago,’ murmured Thea, trying to grasp the fact that such ancient history was real personal experience for these old people.

‘It has come much closer in the past few weeks. As if it was all just gone a short while ago. The memories are as clear as crystal. It’s astonishing.’

‘So Martin grew up with you, just like your own son. Did he call you Mum or Auntie?’

‘I was always Auntie Rita. We made sure he knew who his mother had been. She was such a darling thing, you know. Everybody loved her. We kept her memory alive.’

‘You kept all her clothes, and linens and other things.’

‘There seemed to be no choice. In a way, the things were
her
, I suppose. I planned to hand them over to Martin’s wife when he married, but she never wanted them. Just laughed at them. Said they were moth-eaten rubbish. Nasty bitch, she was.’

The revival was slowly continuing, the voice growing stronger. Thea had pulled up the second chair and was sitting knee-to-knee with the old lady, bending forward to catch every word.

‘And then Richard was born,’ she prompted.

‘So he was. Martin’s cousin, officially. And actually, of course. But also his half-brother. They looked uncannily alike. Still do. I mean, did, until …’ She heaved a shuddering breath. ‘Those foolish boys! What can they have been thinking? I never
dreamt
one of them could end up dead.’

‘You had an affair with Martin’s father. Mr Teasdale. What’s his first name?’

‘Neville. He’s the younger son of an earl, you know. Well, a
much
younger son – three older brothers, poor chap. He never used his title. Could never see the point of it. But there’s family money.’

‘And he gave you some of it,’ Thea guessed. ‘Which you spent on ten years of exotic travels.’ It was remarkably gratifying to have that little secret revealed.

‘That’s right. I had to put some pressure on him, but he paid up handsomely in the end.’

‘But Martin’s a legitimate son, and Richard wasn’t – so he can’t have had any claim on money. Is that what he hoped to get from making contact the way he did?’

‘I told you about that, did I?’

Thea was focusing intently on the information flowing fitfully from the old lady. It was explaining a lot and yet still leaving a hundred questions to be answered.
She also felt burdened by the knowledge that the ancient Neville Teasdale might be dying in an ambulance as they spoke. No way was she going to impart this news, but it felt wrong to withhold it. When the truth came out, Rita would feel manipulated and used. She was never going to want to see Thea Osborne again.

‘Did you love him?’ she asked.

The sigh was like a tiny puff of warm air. ‘I loved Martin. When he went away to school it was agony. I’m afraid I simply exploited Neville in the most outrageous fashion. I wanted another of his sons to love and raise, and it was easy enough to get him, as it turned out. Poor chap hardly knew what was happening. Of course everyone assumed it was John Wilshire’s child. Even John himself seemed willing to believe it. I told him some rubbish about a drunken night of passion that he’d forgotten.’

‘But Richard thought John was his father as well?’

‘Until he met Brendan, who showed him pictures of Neville. Brendan does family history, the fool. Came to the house asking to see old photos and bringing some of his own. I could hardly refuse him, could I? Martin was there, as it happened, and I could see Richard getting thoughtful. Next we knew he’d disappeared in a puff of smoke, and his wife went off her head with worry.’

‘But if he was simply getting to know his father, why did he keep it such a secret? Why would it matter?’

‘Neville would have denied the whole thing. He’s an old-fashioned Victorian, afraid for his reputation. He swore Richard to secrecy.’ She managed a breathy little
laugh. ‘And yet he was so pleased about it, too. He and Richard formed a bond almost instantly. Richard was angry with me, of course, because it could all have been too late. There was this decrepit old man, deaf and rambling – they set about doing what they could to make up for lost time.’

‘Who else knew about it?’

‘Brendan guessed, but they would never confirm it to him. He talked about getting a DNA test done, but never did it, as far as I know. After all – it has nothing to do with him.’

Thea sat there, processing the story and following a number of implications, saying nothing. Eventually she asked, ‘Was there really an email from Richard, saying he feared he might be killed? How else would Brendan know to go up into your attic?’

‘You asked me that before.’

‘I know I did. And I’m not sure I believe your answer.’

Rita Wilshire looked up, attempting to straighten her neck and back. ‘My dear, look at it from my point of view. All I have now is Millie, and Martin. They’re the only two who are going to come and see me. And Millie’s liable to swan off to some foreign country at any time. Martin’s got himself a place in Gloucester, which is not so far away. He’s a cheering presence. And he emails me every day.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘I do love emails, always have. It felt as though they invented them just for me.’

‘And you’ve always loved him.’

‘That’s right.’

‘More than Richard?’

‘You have a special place for the first one. To all intents and purposes, that’s what he was.’ A wash of sadness crossed the old woman’s face, turning it grey. ‘And now it’s all at an end, isn’t it. Richard has gone. Neville won’t survive for long, once he’s told the news. The family, such as it was, has all turned to ashes. And the whole thing is my fault.’ She kept her eyes on Thea’s face. ‘It’s a lesson that takes a lifetime to learn. Be sure your sins will find you out. A small selfish act, so very many years ago, will come back to bite you. But have mercy, my dear, if you can. I dare say quite a lot depends on you now.’

Thea drew in a deep breath, making calculations as she did so. What was the worst that could happen? What could she gain by doing what she planned? How was it her business, anyway?

Before she could say anything, the door of the room swung open and Millie burst in. ‘Gran! Oh, Gran! How are you? What’re
you
doing here?’ she demanded of Thea. ‘Aren’t you ever going to go away and leave us alone?’

‘Manners, dear’ reprimanded the old lady. ‘This lady has our best interests at heart.’

‘Does she? What makes you think that?’

‘Well …’

It wasn’t entirely true, thought Thea guiltily. It wasn’t thoughtfulness or altruism that motivated her so much as a need to see the story to its conclusion and find answers to the many questions that had arisen. But
now she had the main answers hovering an inch away from her nose, but was prevented from verifying them by the intrusion of this annoying girl.

‘I’ve been at the police station for hours,’ said Millie angrily. ‘They’ve got a mad idea about Brendan and some stamps. What’s that about, anyway? They’ve arrested him by now, I expect. They didn’t explain it at all, but as far as I can work out, they seem to think Brendan killed Dad because of some valuable stamps that were in the attic at Chedworth. How can that be possible?’

‘It’s not,’ said Thea and Rita Wilshire in one breath.

Ten minutes later, Thea left the care home, having said little more to the old lady or her granddaughter. She suspected that Rita knew what she was thinking, and what she was going to have to do. She was cast in the role of Nemesis, which was far from comfortable. She could see no other course of action but to return to Cirencester and reveal her findings to DI Higgins. It felt slightly tame, and anticlimactic, but also inescapable.

And yet there were still unanswered questions. How much did Norah Cookham know? And Millie, who gave an impression of bewilderment, but always seemed to be on the spot when anything important was happening. And biggest question of them all – how had Richard actually been killed? She had a feeling she would be asking as much as answering, once she located Higgins.

Her phone trilled at her, just before she got to her car. Assuming it to be Drew, she did a double take when
the screen said ‘Caller Unknown’. It could be anyone, of course. Probably nothing to do with the business in hand. She answered warily.

‘Mrs Osborne? Martin Teasdale here. Where are you?’

Her heart thumped. ‘How did you get my number?’

‘You gave it to Millie. She gave it to Brendan. We’ve all got it,’ he said carelessly. ‘Now please listen. Where are you?’

‘In Stratford.’

‘I see. Well, I’m in Oxford. My father died half an hour ago. I’m guessing you’re with my aunt. If that’s right, could you be kind enough to give her the news?’

‘
What?
Why me? Of course I won’t do that. It’s not my place. She’s lost everything, these past few days. I’ve no intention of adding to her distress.’

‘No problem,’ he said calmly. ‘I only thought it might be the easiest thing. I’m not going to insist.’

‘I’m leaving, anyway. Millie’s with your aunt. You could phone her and ask her to do it. Not that I understand why it’s so urgent. It was over twenty-four hours before anyone told her that her son had died.’

‘That’s why, of course. She’ll not forgive such a delay again.’

‘I think she’s gone beyond all that now,’ said Thea.

He was quiet for a few seconds. ‘What did you mean, she’s lost everything?’

Her heart thumped again. ‘Well …’ she said, ‘the dreadful way her son died.’ She emphasised the word
son
, from an obscure sense of wanting to keep Richard in the forefront.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You and I should meet. I understand that you’ve been a kindly presence these past few days, you and your partner. I’d like to express my gratitude. Perhaps we could meet in Chedworth – say in an hour’s time? At the house.’

‘What for? I don’t need any thanks. I wasn’t going back there again. I’ve done all I can.’ A thought struck her. Brendan could not have been arrested, as Millie supposed, because he had been in Chipping Norton with his father only ninety minutes earlier. ‘Is Brendan with you?’ she asked, without thinking.

‘Why?’

‘No reason. Just a thought.’

‘Well, he is, as it happens. But I was going to take him home to Cheltenham before meeting up with you. He has things to do.’

‘He stole your aunt’s stamps,’ she said. ‘She’s very upset about it.’

‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘That’s just Auntie Rita’s paranoia. Forget about it. The stamps aren’t going anywhere.’

Thea said nothing. Martin Teasdale went on, ‘So you’ll meet me, will you?’

‘Only because it’s on my way,’ she said. ‘I can spare a few minutes, I suppose.’

‘Lovely. Make it five-thirty, then. At the house.’

She was mad to agree, she decided. Totally insane. Not only could there be no conceivable gain to be made,
but she had no desire whatever to see Chedworth again. Her thoughts and guesses concerning Martin Teasdale made him the last man on earth she should meet alone in a deserted village. And yet, the old enemy – curiosity – was controlling her. Here was a chance to anticipate the laborious police investigation and get answers directly.

‘Sorry, Heps,’ she said. ‘But we’re not finished yet.’

She was five minutes late, because she’d stopped at the same garage shop that she and Drew had used to refuel, and bought a bag full of food. The dog would be hungry, too, so she got some Winalot biscuits to tide her over. They had eaten as she drove, which did at least make her feel more energetic, and clearer in her thinking.

She parked a little way past the house, and resolved to conduct the ensuing conversation in the open air. Letting Hepzie out, to run free in the quiet cul de sac, she walked up to a car containing a man in the driving seat. Behind him there was a bulky rectangular parcel wrapped in black plastic.

‘No Brendan, then?’ she said.

‘I told you I was dropping him off first.’

‘I heard that he’d been arrested on suspicion of murder.’

‘You heard wrong.’

‘Well, it doesn’t much matter. We can soon put them right, can’t we?’

Only then did he open the car door and climb out. He was a solid man, with a sheen of prosperity and
confidence. His eyes were clear and his cheeks well shaven. Of all the people Thea had met in the last few days, this one carried the least hint of guilt. He moved easily, obviously free from any of the joint pains that so often afflicted men of his age. Even his knees seemed to work perfectly. His features were disconcertingly similar to those of the dead Richard, his cousin and half-brother.

‘Who would have guessed what a dangerous little thing you turned out to be?’ he said with a smile. ‘Brendan told me how you questioned him like any prosecution lawyer. All that stuff about our family, which is so very much not your business.’