Death is a Word (3 page)

Eva came back from London in good spirits.

‘I had a lovely time. Dear Patrick organised a surprise party – all my old friends. I really enjoyed it. And I went to a few exhibitions and a couple of theatres – oh, and Dan took me to the opening of a new restaurant. Such a peculiar place, everything was black and white, probably the food as well, but the lighting was so low you couldn’t really tell.’

‘I bet Dan had fun with that,’ I said.

‘He said it provided a useful theme for his review.’

I laughed. ‘I’m so glad you had a good time.’

‘I hope it hasn’t unsettled you,’ Rosemary said. ‘Taviscombe will seem very dull after all that.’

‘No, actually, I’m quite glad to be back. It
was
lovely, of course, a nice treat. It was fine when Alan
was alive, but it’s not the sort of life I’d want to have now. So, come on, tell me what’s been going on while I was away.’

The Christmas concert is generally considered to be one of the high spots in the Brunswick Lodge calendar. People read poems or extracts from Christmassy books and we sing carols – all rather old-fashioned, I suppose, but everyone seems to enjoy it. This year it ended with Donald Webster reading the Henry Williamson account of the Christmas truce in the First World War, followed by Pauline Jacobs playing ‘Silent Night’ on her recorder. It was very moving and, as the final notes died away, there was a long silence, before applause broke out and people crowded around Donald and Pauline in congratulation.

‘That was beautiful,’ Eva said. ‘Who was that doing the reading?’

‘Oh, that was Donald Webster—’ Rosemary began, when Anthea, who was passing, broke in to give her usual panegyric on her latest favourite.

‘Such an asset – nothing too much trouble – such a wide experience – of
everything
!’

‘Goodness,’ Eva said when Anthea had passed on to chivvy Maureen who was in charge of the refreshments. ‘She really is keen. Is he such a paragon?’

‘All the social graces,’ Rosemary said. ‘He’s even captivated Mother.’

‘No! I must meet this amazing man!’

But a little while later, Donald came up to her, carrying a plate.

‘Have a mince pie. I don’t recommend the ones on the right which, I’ve been told, are a little
heavy
. Wholemeal flour, apparently. No? I don’t blame you, one can have too many mince pies. Actually, this was an excuse to have a word with you.’

Eva smiled. ‘Really?’

‘No, seriously, I wanted to tell you how much I admired your late husband. Shall we sit down?’

They moved away and I lost track of the conversation, but Eva told us later that Donald had met Alan – somewhere in South America, she didn’t remember where – and they had spent some time together and had got on very well.

‘Apparently there’d been some kind of trouble,’ she said, ‘something to do with a drugs raid and they’d been in quite a tight corner and Alan had got them out of it. He was full of praise for Alan’s coolness and the clever way he managed it all.’ Her face was alight with pleasure. ‘It’s such a treat to hear something new about Alan that I’ve never heard before!’

‘He never told you? I’d have thought something like that …’

She smiled. ‘I know, but that sort of thing was run-of-the-mill to Alan, all part of the job. I used to pester him for every detail at first, but I suppose I just got used to it.’

‘There may be some reference to it in his papers,’ I said.

‘Donald was asking about them. I really must get down to doing something about it.’

Anthea suddenly appeared with Alison Shelby in tow, introduced her to Eva and darted away towards the kitchen muttering something about mulled wine.

‘I’ve
so
wanted to meet you,’ Alison began, ‘such an admirer of your wonderful husband – Anthea has told us all about him. Maurice always has the news on, never misses it, and we always say we can’t imagine how people
could
– be so brave, I mean. When they don’t have to, that is. After all they’re not soldiers, are they, and they only have those jacket things when all that is going on around them. I know we have to see those terrible things – though sometimes I wonder if we really do – and television is wonderful. A window on the world, I always say. Oh here’s Maurice, he’ll tell you …’

Maurice Shelby approached, shook hands formally with Eva and expressed his admiration for Alan’s work in more measured tones.

‘It was a job he loved,’ Eva said. ‘He wouldn’t have been happy doing anything else.’

‘He was a very brave man,’ Maurice said, ‘and a really excellent reporter. A collection of his broadcasts would make a most interesting book. Is anything being considered?’

‘There are a lot of his papers that need to be sorted – at present in my garage – I do intend to do something about them soon.’

He nodded. ‘I will look forward very much to seeing something in print. And now you have moved down here. Do you have connections in the area?’

‘My parents lived just outside Porlock. They’re both dead now, of course, but I was born and brought up here.’

‘I wonder if I knew them?’

‘My family name is Benson.’

‘Really?’ he thought for a moment. ‘The name doesn’t ring a bell. And do you have any close family here?’

‘I was an only child. Rosemary here’s a sort of second or third cousin – but that’s all.’

‘Well, I hope you have settled in well and are happy here.’

He bowed slightly and, gathering up his wife who showed signs of wanting to continue the conversation, moved away.

‘Goodness,’ Eva said when they were out of earshot, ‘what an unusual man.’

‘Old-fashioned,’ Rosemary said. ‘I always feel he should be wearing a stiff wing collar and pince-nez.’

‘He’s got a single practice in Taunton – at least he’s on his own now. He had a partner, who went abroad somewhere. I can’t imagine how he deals with modern things like computers, timed interviews and all the stuff they have to cope with these days. But Michael, who knows him quite well, says he’s very much on the ball, so I suppose that formal manner is just a façade.’

Rosemary glanced towards the kitchen where Maureen and Anthea were emerging, each carrying a tray of glasses.

‘Do we really want to sample Maureen’s mulled wine,’ she said, ‘or shall we slip quietly away and have a real drink?’

A few weeks later, I’d just opened the back door to dispel the smell of Foss’s fish (why does fish for an animal, even if very expensive and of a high quality, smell quite different from fish meant for humans?) when the telephone rang.

‘Sheila, can you come over to Eva’s? Something’s happened.’

‘What?’

‘There’s been a fire in her garage.’

‘Is she all right?’

‘Yes, just a bit shaken. I thought we should rally round.’

‘Of course, I’ll be right over.’

When I got to the cottage there was a smell of burning in the air and the grass verge of the lane was churned up, presumably by the fire engine. The garage door was shut and blackened, but there was no other sign of damage.

‘What happened?’ I asked as Eva poured coffee for us all.

‘I’d gone to bed and was asleep when something woke me – a noise in the lane, I thought. You know how it is if you wake up when you’ve just gone to sleep, sort of disoriented. But then I smelt burning. So I got up and looked out of the window. I couldn’t see anything, it was pitch-black, so I thought I’d better go down and check things. When I opened the front door I saw smoke coming out of the garage, so I phoned the fire brigade and, fortunately, they came very quickly and put it out before too much damage was done.’

‘How awful for you!’ I said.

‘It all happened so quickly I didn’t really take in what was happening until it was all over.’

‘But frightening. Thank goodness the fire brigade came so quickly. Do they know what started it?’

‘Not really. They said there was no immediately apparent cause. I got the impression it was some electrical fault.’

‘I must say,’ Rosemary broke in, ‘I didn’t like the look of that bulb hanging from the ceiling on what looked like a very old flex. I think you should have the wiring in the cottage checked. You can’t be too careful.’

‘I thought the surveyor had all that sorted,’ Eva said. ‘But,’ she went on quickly, ‘it wouldn’t hurt to have that nice electrician you found me have a look at it.’

‘Was there much damage inside?’ I asked. ‘How about the papers; were they all right?’

‘Fortunately they were at
this
end of the garage – the light fitting’s up near the door.’

‘You really must get them sorted,’ Rosemary said. ‘Or at least bring them indoors. That garage door is badly burnt and I bet you haven’t got the padlock on it!’

‘Well, no. But, honestly, I really can’t imagine why anyone would want to steal them.’

‘It’s not just stealing. There’s a lot of vandalism about. There were a couple of cases in the
Free Press
lately – children destroying things.
And
in one case they’d burnt a barn down.’

‘Oh, but that was quite different,’ I protested. ‘They
were playing in there and it was a dutch barn, wide open, and during the day not in the middle of the night.’

‘Oh well, it’s done now,’ Eva said. ‘Could have been much worse. I’ll get a new door and have the electric light seen to.’

However Rosemary insisted on moving the papers to a place of safety, so we spent the next few mornings transferring them, and the filing cabinets, to the spare room.

‘Oh dear,’ Eva said, looking round the now overcrowded room, ‘there’s no way I could have anyone to stay. I suppose I ought to get rid of those books – the ones I couldn’t make my mind up about – and see what I can do with all these.’ She gestured despairingly at the filing cabinets now lining the walls and taking up an inordinate amount of room so that it was almost impossible to get through the door.

‘There’s just one more lot of papers,’ Rosemary said encouragingly. ‘I’ll just go and bring them up from the garage.’

Eva sighed. ‘It’s very good of Rosemary …’ she began.

‘But you wish she wouldn’t?’ I said.

‘Well, yes. I feel dreadfully ungrateful, and I know I’ve got to get down to things sometime, but for now I wish I could just
be
.’

‘It’s early days yet. Rosemary, bless her, has always been a one for getting things sorted.

‘And it’s just as well someone does otherwise nothing would ever get done. Anyway, she’s always had to because of her mother.’

Mrs Dudley was a great one for getting things done – usually by other people. ‘Never put off till tomorrow,’ she would say impressively, as if it was a completely original thought, ‘what you can do today.’

‘I think,’ Eva said, ‘she feels responsible for me, being a sort of relative. I don’t mean that’s the only reason, but she’s always had a strong feeling about family.’

‘Just like her mother,’ I said. ‘Though don’t tell her I said that!’

Christmas came and went. I spent it with the children and Eva was with Rosemary and Jack

‘Dan and Patrick don’t do Christmas,’ she said in response to my enquiry. ‘They sit around in their dressing gowns and eat boiled eggs.’

Donald Webster continued to contribute to the proceedings at Brunswick Lodge.

‘I thought he might be sick of it by now,’ Rosemary said. ‘Being bossed around by Anthea.’

‘I don’t think he is,’ I said. ‘It seems to me he only does what he wants to do, and always with that
half-amused attitude, as if he thinks it’s all a bit of a joke.’

‘Harold says he worked for one of the big American multinationals, chemicals and things. Apparently he ran their main South American operation, whatever that might mean.’

‘Goodness. He must have been important. Odd that he should have ended up in Taviscombe. I mean, I know he said it was because of his childhood holidays, but, really, when he had the whole world to choose from—’

‘There’s nothing wrong with Taviscombe,’ Rosemary said sharply. ‘Area of outstanding natural beauty and all that.’

‘Yes, I know,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘But he never seems to go for walks or drives, doesn’t appear at all keen on the outdoor kind of things. In fact, he spends most of his time here, at Brunswick Lodge. Why would he choose to help with coffee mornings in a small seaside town after the life he’s been used to?’

‘Nice and restful after all that time abroad.’ Rosemary doesn’t have a very high opinion of abroad.

‘And those tea parties with your mother.’

‘I agree that’s odd. But perhaps he collects characters.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you might call Anthea and your mother characters. But after all this time, what is it – several
months now – you’d think he’d be bored …’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t know – there’s something about him that doesn’t add up.’

‘Never mind, let’s make the most of him while we can. Anthea’s never been so little trouble since he came and Mother’s taken on a new lease of life. He drove her out to that place at Exford for lunch the other day. And you know how she said she couldn’t
possibly
manage a car journey that far when I suggested it ages ago!’

‘He certainly has charm. And a subtle kind of charm, nothing obvious or over the top. Everyone likes him. Even Derek said that Donald’s the only person who’s ever appreciated just how complicated the finances of Brunswick Lodge really are.’

I was on my hands and knees scrubbing a stain on the carpet in the dining room when there was a ring at the front door. Wondering why my animals never chose to be sick in the kitchen, which is tiled and easier to clean, I hurried to answer the bell which was being rung again with some urgency. It was Rosemary.

‘Whatever’s happened?’ I asked as she hurried inside.

She made for the kitchen, which is where we usually chat, and sat down at the table, looking quite agitated.

‘It’s Eva.’

‘What is it? Is she all right?’

‘Donald Webster’s asked her out to dinner!’

‘So?’

‘At the Castle in Taunton.’

‘Lucky her,’ I said enviously. ‘So what’s the fuss about?’