Murder by Mistake (27 page)

‘Love,’ she said to her daughter, ‘can be eroded by neglect and abuse. Valerie has stopped loving Denis because he beats her and the children. Mia stopped loving her mother because it was made clear to her that she was nothing but a nuisance in that family. I’m not sure that Ursula loves her mother, because Mrs Belton is a self-centred woman who never thinks of what might be best for her daughter, but only of how everything might look to the rest of the world.

‘It seems to me there can be something beyond love between mother and child. Valerie is taking a risk, defying her husband to give her children a life free from fear. Ursula has never by word or deed allowed a criticism of her mother to cross her lips. Mia knows and understands her mother, but is more sad than angry about what has happened. Love may have died, but there is still a strong tie between mother and child.

‘Perhaps some people would still call that bond love. I’m not sure that I can. But I do acknowledge that the tie is still there. I suppose I would die to save you if you were in danger, and it hurts me to think what misery you’re letting yourself in for, by hitching yourself to Denis. But I am no longer prepared to go on pretending that I love you indulgently, and unconditionally.

‘Yes, I will pay the bills for this charade of yours tomorrow, and I suppose I will try to pick up the pieces when Denis strips you of everything and leaves you without a penny. But don’t take me for granted in future.’

Diana stared at Ellie, their eyes meeting in the mirror. ‘You don’t love me?’ Perhaps for the first time Diana faced the truth. She repeated the words on a rising inflection. ‘You really don’t love me any more?’

‘Do you love me? I think you love little Frank after a fashion, but you don’t love him enough to let him off making a spectacle of himself at the reception. And yes, I do think he’d be better off seeing less of you, if you continue to chop and change, wanting him with you one minute and forgetting all about him the next. Have you bothered to talk to him about his spending his holidays with you in future? Frank is only a little boy, remember, and he’s terrified of Denis. What will happen when Denis decides he’d not pleased with Frank for some reason and starts to beat him?’

Diana put a hand that trembled over her mouth. ‘No, no. That would never—’

‘I expect Valerie thought that too, once. Take a good look at the road you’re taking, Diana. Back out of this sham marriage before it’s too late.’

Diana resumed work on her foundation with a hand that trembled. ‘You’re trying to frighten me, and you’re not succeeding. I’m marrying a man I love with all my heart. Won’t we have a laugh when I tell him what incredible stories you’ve been making up about him?’ She set to work with the blusher on her cheekbones. ‘I’ll be out tonight, of course, having a rave-up with some girlfriends. Leave the front door on the latch, will you? Or better still, let me have a key.’

Ellie walked out of the room, feeling her age. Where was Thomas? She needed him. Ah, he’d said he’d meet them at the church for the rehearsal, didn’t he? Was she dressed suitably? She looked down at herself.

No, she wasn’t. She was wearing one of her oldest summer dresses, the one she used for shopping or around the house in the mornings. Not exactly millionairess quality.

She wouldn’t think about Diana any more. It hurt too much.

There was a stir in the hall and Pat called her name. ‘Ellie! Are you there? Mrs Belton’s arrived to inspect the arrangements.’

Ellie produced a smile that wavered and went downstairs to greet yet another uninvited guest.

SEVENTEEN

T
o judge by her flushed face, Mrs Belton had come straight from the hairdresser where her brutally cut short hair had been permed into a poodle style. A perm as strong as that would probably last for months, but did nothing for the health of the hair, nor did it soften her heavy features.

‘I thought you could save me the cost of a taxi by giving me a lift to the church because it’s too far for me to walk in this heat. Ursula ought to have picked somewhere closer. Not that she listens to a word I say, out and about with her father and his second family, wining and dining and taking them to the Tower of London and shopping, if you please, instead of making sure everything is all right for tomorrow.’

‘Um,’ said Ellie, counting on her fingers how many people would have to fit into her minicab.

Mrs Belton looked around her and sniffed. ‘I don’t understand why Ursula wanted to have her wedding reception here. Such a hole-in-the-corner effort for the most important day in her life.’

She sailed into the dining room, where the buffet table had been sited at the far end and a batch of tables and chairs had been stacked to one side. There were no tablecloths on the tables, nor cutlery, nor glasses. The candelabra – ivy entwined – were on the buffet table.

Mrs Belton recoiled, raising both hands in the air. ‘Is this where you plan to have my daughter’s reception?’

Ellie said, ‘The caterers and the florist will be in tomorrow morning to set up.’

Mrs Belton stalked back to the hall to stare at the bridal arch, which was now at the foot of the stairs. ‘And what may that be?’ The arch was indeed looking rather the worse for wear, with a scatter of jasmine flowers marking each of its previous positions in the hall.

Ellie looked at her watch. She really needed to change before they set out for the church? Would the minicab take all of them in comfort? Possibly not, but . . .

Mrs Belton moved into the sitting room at the back of the house. More small tables and chairs had been moved in here. The television set had disappeared, and the settee had been pushed up against the fireplace. They would probably have to have the lights on for the reception, as the marquee came within a yard of the French windows, shutting off much of the daylight.

Mrs Belton had caught sight of the marquee. ‘What on earth is that!’

Ellie found herself wringing her hands. She told herself to stand up to the woman. ‘It’s a marquee for a reception later in the day. Ursula will have the use of these two rooms and the hall. The other party will go straight through the hall to the marquee and not come into these rooms at all.’

‘What? You are telling me that . . . Words fail me!’ Words didn’t fail her, of course. She marched back through the hall, entered the conservatory, paused for a second as the scent of the gardenias hit her, and then tramped on into the marquee.

Here the walls had been hung with golden drapery, while tables and chairs had been roughly grouped around two sides of the tent. A long table at the back had been dressed with cloths and more golden drapery. Fairy lights had been strung here and there. Gold ribbon twined round the posts which held up the roof, and boxes had been stacked up on the long table . . . including cutlery and glasses? Where was Diana’s wedding cake? In one of the boxes?

Mr Balls looked up from some paperwork as they entered. His slaves hovered, one on her mobile and the other adjusting the placing of a dais near the exit to the kitchen.

‘Now this is more like it!’ said Mrs Belton. ‘We shall have the reception in here, where everyone has plenty of room to move about. The photographs will be taken in the conservatory. I’ll see if I can get one of my contacts to provide some music for later on. I wonder you hadn’t thought of it before.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ellie, glancing at her watch again. ‘That’s out of the question. This marquee is for a reception later in the day.’

‘But—’

‘The original arrangements stand.’ Ellie’s temper was beginning to rise.

‘What? But that’s . . . If I’d known, I’d have . . . Anyway, what are you doing about the cake?’

Ellie set her teeth. ‘Ursula doesn’t want a wedding cake. Her friend Mia is providing some canapés over and above the food ordered from the caterer. Mia has also bought some favours for the guests. Now if you don’t mind, I need to change before we leave.’

‘Oh, that’s all right. I expect Thomas is giving you a lift. He’ll not go without you.’

‘He’s going direct, but I have a cab ordered, and I expect we can squeeze you in.’ The woman would probably want to sit in front with the driver, anyway. ‘Well, if you could wait down here for me . . .?’

The front door was thrown wide and in rushed Marge, Mrs Summers’ next-door neighbour, her jacket flying open. ‘Ellie, you’ve got to help me! They’ve arrested my son!’

Mrs Belton bridled. ‘Who, may I ask, are you? Don’t you realize you are intruding on a most important occasion?’

Ellie put her arm round Marge, who looked as if she were about to collapse, and steered her to a seat. ‘Come on, sit down. Take your time.’

Mrs Belton looked at her watch. ‘We’ll be late for the rehearsal.’

‘Just a minute,’ said Ellie. And to Marge, ‘It’s all right. Put your head down between your knees . . .’

Rose popped her head around the door, opened her mouth to speak, but on seeing Mrs Belton and Marge she withdrew again.

Ellie said, ‘Hold tight. I’ll get you a drink of water.’ A gin would probably be more to Marge’s taste, but Ellie didn’t have any. She rushed into the kitchen and ran the cold tap.

Rose said, ‘What does she want?’

‘She’s a neighbour of Mrs Summers . . . The childminder who was found dead, remember?’

‘She’s not staying, is she? The cab will be here in a minute. Do I need to wear a hat?’ Rose patted her hair.

Mia was rushing scrubbed new potatoes into a pot of cold water on the stove. ‘There, everything’s ready to cook when we get back.’

Ellie filled a glass with cold water, looked at the clock and winced. She picked up the flower basket. ‘I’d better take this along to give to Ursula’s little sister. Is the back door locked?’

Mia said, ‘Mr Balls is still here. I’ll ask him to make sure everything’s locked up, shall I?’

‘Thanks, Mia.’ Ellie darted back to the hall, dropped the flower basket on the hall table, checked the grandfather clock – were they going to be late? – and helped Marge to sip some water.

‘We must be off!’ announced Mrs Belton. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

‘Late for what?’ demanded Diana, descending the stairs. ‘What’s all the fuss about? This place is bedlam.’ A car horn sounded in the driveway. ‘Ah, is that my cab? I’m taking cabs tonight so I can drink and not drive.’

‘No, it’s not yours,’ said Ellie. ‘You’ll have to ring for one if you want one. Oh, and if you’re going to be that late . . . Here, take my key, but leave it on the hall table when you get back in, as I’ll need it tomorrow.’

Mia rushed back from the conservatory. ‘Mr Balls says he’ll see everything’s locked up, but he would like a word with you, Ellie.’

‘Sorry. No can do. Marge, we’re due at the church in less than ten minutes. Can you wait here till we get back? We’ll only be about an hour.’

Marge grabbed Ellie’s arm. ‘They’ve arrested Duncan. Can’t you tell them it wasn’t him?’

‘Why have they . . .?’

‘Because he helped her out with odd jobs, the fence that fell down, her doorbell, a tap that dripped. They think he was one of her regulars, but he wasn’t, honest he wasn’t, at least not like that, if you see what I mean. Of course he popped in to see her just as he does to see me, but they think he did it because the neighbours have seen him going in and out, though I told them there were other men doing the same thing and they weren’t
all
being helpful, or rather, they were helping themselves, if you know what I mean.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean.’

Diana wandered out into the driveway, talking into her mobile.

Rose came out of the kitchen. ‘The cab’s here.’

Mia picked up the flower basket. ‘Can we all get in?’

‘What?’ Mrs Belton was offended. ‘I don’t see why everyone needs to come.’

Ellie said, ‘Rose, you go ahead with Mia and Mrs Belton.’

‘You’re just as important as I am,’ said Mia.

‘Don’t leave me!’ gasped Marge. ‘You’ve got to tell them it wasn’t Duncan!’

Rose dithered. ‘I could stay behind, if you like.’

‘Certainly not! Mia needs you,’ said Ellie. ‘Let’s all squash in, right? Mrs Belton can go in the front, and the rest of us will manage somehow.’

Mrs Belton stalked out of the house, outrage in every line of her body.

Rose looked out. ‘It’s one of the bigger models. I think we can probably all squeeze in. I really wouldn’t want to miss it.’

‘Nor shall you,’ said Ellie. ‘Come along, Marge. I haven’t got anything special to do when we get to the church, so we’ll sit in the back and you can tell me all about it while the others have their rehearsal.’

It was a tight squeeze to get everyone into the back of the car, but no one complained and the driver – who was one of those Ellie often used – put his foot down to get them to the church on time.

Getting out, Ellie said, ‘You’ve got our booking for tomorrow morning, haven’t you? Three people to be collected from my house about eleven twenty, to get us to the church in good time for the wedding at twelve.’

‘Will do.’