Devil in Disguise (48 page)

‘That’s
too much,’ said Roger.

Simon
put the album down crossly and moved into the hallway to look at the posters
and framed playbills of Lilia’s glittering career. ‘Fakes. Every one of them.’

‘My
God,’ said Roger. ‘I always had my doubts, but I thought she’d been more of a
chorus girl than a leading lady. More Stephen Gately than Stephen Fry, if you
catch my drift. Fancy going to all that trouble with scissors and Pritt Stick!’

‘I
don’t think she ever stepped on a stage in her life.’

‘Wait
till Molly hears about this,’ said Roger, relishing the thought of Lilia’s
exposure.

Simon
shook his head. ‘No, we can’t tell her. Who knows what it would do to her
confidence if she learnt that her whole career is based on fraud? I have some
more detective work to do first. Lilia’s harmless for now, but if she’s exposed,
we’ll have to watch out. There’s no knowing what she might do.’

‘Get me
out of this madhouse,’ said Roger, who was pale with shock. He shuddered. ‘It’s
all beginning to feel distinctly spooky.’.

‘One
final snoop in each room and then we’ll go,’ Simon said grimly.

That Christmas, there was
little evidence of the recession in Bond Street. The rich were spending their
cash with reckless abandon and Molly was one of them, the Bentley kerb-crawling
along the street beside her, ready to receive the various packages as she left
each shop. She bought Rupert a gold Rolex, the boys a mountain of toys and
expensive clothes, and Lilia a delicate string of seventeenth-century black
pearls from Asprey’s. For Simon, she found a signed first edition of Muriel
Spark’s
Memento Mori
and a diamond-encrusted friendship ring by Cartier.

Satisfied
with her afternoon’s shopping, she checked into Claridge’s to freshen up for
the smart party hosted by her record label at Century, a private members’ club.
It would be fun to dress up and forget her domestic woes for an evening.

Molly
was taking a rare visit to her old life and, for a few short hours, it was
pleasant to be fêted, spoilt and treated with deference and respect. There was
precious little of that at home, these days. She got a bit drunk on champagne
and was pleased to be able to snuggle down with a blanket on the back seat of
the Bentley while her driver steered her expertly home.

By the
time they got back to Kent, it was just past midnight.

The
driver dropped her at the main gates and, to avoid waking the children, she
walked up the frosty lawn rather than across the gravel driveway. The front
door had been left on the latch and she slipped silently into the hallway. She
deposited her black-and-silver pashmina on the hall table and walked over to
the drawing-room door. She had seen smoke rising from the inglenook chimney
and hoped Rupert would still be up, maybe asleep on the sofa, so she could
snuggle up to him and tell him how much she loved him. It seemed ages since
they had had any time alone together.

As she
got to the door, which was ancient pockmarked oak with creaky black hinges and
a big iron latch, she heard Lilia’s voice: ’I am sorry to be the bearer of bad
news, but I thought it best to tell you what was on my mind.’

‘But I
don’t understand. How do you know all this?’ said Rupert, sounding deeply
shocked.

‘Some
of it I have deduced from Molly’s behaviour. You must have seen her scattiness,
her remoteness. Her mind isn’t here even if her body is. And some she has told
me. But it is only now that I know you and, if I may make so bold, like you
that I feel compelled to share my fears. I believe that lately Molly has got
much worse — I’ve seen such signs in the past, of course, before her previous
breakdown.’

‘Breakdown?’
said Rupert.

‘I
assumed you knew.’

‘What
breakdown?’

‘Did
she never tell you about her psychotic episode seven years ago? Oh dear. I
shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

‘I’m
glad you did, Lilia.’ Rupert sounded weak and tired. ‘It’s just so much to take
in. It’s a shock. But you’re right — Molly has been behaving oddly recently.
She does seem distant and she can’t manage the simplest things.’

As
Molly listened she had no real idea what they were talking about, but instinct
told her to stay put and listen on for a few moments. What she heard next left
her in no doubt.

‘I’m
afraid that the truth is Molly doesn’t love you any more. It is not her fault,
she is just incapable. She is fond of the children, of course, but her first
love is herself and always has been.’

‘But
she seems so loving most of the time!’ Rupert said, bewildered.

‘No.
You are just a stepping-stone to her. You have a five-year shelf-life, to my
mind, and you’ve already enjoyed four of those. I don’t think she realised
quite how costly your divorce had been and you are simply not wealthy enough
for her. She’ll be wanting someone along the lines of Damien Hirst or Richard
Branson next — the big guns. No disrespect.’

‘It’s
still so hard to believe,’ Rupert said sadly.

‘I may
be wrong,’ Lilia said quickly. ‘But where is she now? Cavorting about London
like Eliza Doolittle. Leaving her precious children in my care. Me. An elderly,
disabled, not to mention unpaid and unqualified friend. Are these the actions
of a devoted wife and mother?’

‘But
what would I do without her?’ cried Rupert’s anguished voice.

‘I will
take care of everything for you,’ said Lilia, in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘We
must do what is best for those dear, dear children.’

Molly,
her hand clasped over her mouth to stop herself screaming, backed silently
away from the door. She wanted to burst through the door and yell at Lilia,
slap her and tell her get out of her house. She wanted to throw herself into
Rupert’s arms and reassure him that of course she loved him and Lilia was the
mad one. But wouldn’t a hysterical reaction just confirm everything Lilia had
just told him? Would such actions make her look like a fit and dutiful mother?
No. She needed to get Rupert on his own, away from the evil serpent Lilia was
showing herself to be. She would try and explain everything to him then. She
must be calm. Then she could confront Lilia later.

She
took a few moments to get control of herself, then she entered the drawing room
where Lilia and Rupert were sitting in silence together.

‘Hi’
said Molly, smiling broadly at them. ‘Did the boys go to bed all right?’

‘Yes,
fine,’ said Rupert. ‘Did you have a good time?’

‘Lovely,
thanks, but it’s nicer to be home. I think I’ll go up and look in on them. You
coming up?’ she asked Rupert.

‘Yes.
Let’s go,’ said Rupert.

‘I will
turn the lights out and put the fireguard in place.’ Lilia stood up.

Molly
couldn’t bring herself to say goodnight to Lilia. She just turned and left the
room.

Upstairs
she kissed her boys’ foreheads and stood in the doorway for a few minutes,
watching them sleep, illuminated by a soft orange night-light.

By the
time she entered her own room, Rupert was already in bed, his big form turned
away from her, the duvet pulled up round his shoulders. Nevertheless, when she
climbed into bed beside him she couldn’t resist slipping an arm round his waist
and pressing herself to his bare back. But Rupert remained as still as a
statue, his breathing steady, and while she doubted he was asleep she could
tell he wanted to give that impression. ‘Rupert?’ she said softly. She longed
to explain that he’d been told a pack of lies, and to offer her side of the
story. ‘Rupert? Please, can we talk?’ But there was no response.

Lilia,
what are you doing? she thought, staring into the dark. I thought we loved each
other. Why do you want to destroy my marriage? What is it you want?

She woke with a start and
looked at the clock beside her. It was just after eight a.m. She had had the
old dream of her mother being dragged off screaming, calling her name.
Breathing deeply to calm herself, she noticed that Rupert’s side of the bed was
empty. Suddenly filled with foreboding, she got up, stumbled out of the room
and ran the short distance along the landing to Leo and Bertie’s, but they were
gone, their unmade beds staring at her accusingly. She gasped, then told
herself that of course they would all be downstairs at this hour, having
breakfast. Except that the house was eerily quiet.

She ran
down to the kitchen. No one was there. Next she raced to the front door and
flung it open. Rupert’s black Land Rover was gone. The gate was open.

Oh, my
God! thought Molly, horrified. Could he really have believed what Lilia said
about me last night? Has he taken my babies away?

Desolate,
she returned to the kitchen, terrible thoughts racing through her head. On the
table, she spotted a folded piece of paper with her name on it in Rupert’s
handwriting. She snatched it up.

Molly,

I
have taken the boys to the zoo for the day.

See
you later.

R

She
breathed out with relief. The note was curt, but that was to be expected — no
doubt Rupert wanted time away from her to think. She had to act quickly — get
to him before Lilia did any more damage and explain herself. She saw it clearly
now: Lilia had become her enemy and was working to destroy her. But why? Right
now she could only deal with facts and solutions. Too much was at stake. She
would tell Lilia she had to go, she decided. Tough action was called for. Like
vermin, a parasite or fungus, Lilia had to leave the house as soon as possible
— today.

‘Good
morning,’ said a familiar voice behind her. ‘Still in your nightie? You must be
cold. Winter draws on, as they say.’

Molly
turned slowly towards the door and saw Lilia standing there. It was like
looking at a vision of herself: the bright red hair, the makeup exactly as she
did hers, the grey cashmere dress identical to the one that hung in her
wardrobe, the breasts exactly her size. As she looked at Lilia, she felt fear
for the first time.

‘Good
morning, my dear!’ said Lilia, cheerfully, coming into the room. ‘No children
to worry about today — what a relief for you.’

‘Morning,’
replied Molly, with equal brightness. ‘Yes. They’ve gone to the zoo with their
father.’

‘Port
Lympne, I expect,’ said Lilia. ‘They have a baby giraffe. Most opportune for
their fund-raising activities.’

Molly
went to make herself some tea, aware that her hands were trembling. Could this
be the same sweet old lady she had heard telling such wicked lies to Rupert,
making him believe she didn’t love him, causing a terrible rift between them?
Was divorce what Lilia wanted? Did she intend to tear Molly away from her
children? As she thought of these things, she contemplated throwing the kettle
at Lilia. She restrained herself, but kept her fingers on the handle just in
case. ‘What are your plans today?’

‘How
funny. I was about to ask you the same question.’ Lilia came round the kitchen
table and stood inappropriately close to Molly. ‘I want to ask you again about
whether you’re willing to go to Toronto. Think carefully. This will be the last
time I ask you.’

‘I’ve
told you.’ Molly put a teabag into her mug, trying to hide her trembling hands.
‘The tour is cancelled.’

‘Oh,
no, my dear. The tour will go ahead with or without you,’ said Lilia, coldly.
She turned to look at herself in the mirror on the far wall and softly patted
her hair.

‘What’s
that supposed to mean?’

‘Well,
it’s simple, really.
I
shall do it.’

Molly
stared at her, astonished. ‘You?’

‘Yes.
Me. I shall go in your place. We look identical and have practically the same
name. Only a small typographical error, in truth. Who will tell the difference?
You have never been to Canada before, after all. I shall go out there, slay
them and bring home the bacon.’