Murder by Mistake (9 page)

Ellie retrieved the M & S bags from the hall and carried them up the main staircase to the first-floor landing.

Now for something completely different; trying on new clothes was bound to make them both feel better.

SIX

E
llie knocked on the door. ‘Yoo-hoo! It’s only me.’

She opened the door into what had once been Rose’s bedroom and which was now supposed to be Mia’s. Only, the girl wasn’t there.

Ellie could tell Rose was alone downstairs, because she’d turned the volume on the telly up high. So where was the child? Perhaps in the good spare room which was where Ellie had meant her to sleep? It was a beautiful room, overlooking the garden at the back of the house. No Mia.

Ellie began to panic. Had the girl gone out? But where, and with whom? She had no money for bus or taxi. She’d told them she wouldn’t leave the house. So where was she?

Ellie’s imagination ran riot . . . Someone had mounted a ladder to Mia’s room and carried her off . . . A dark shadow lurking behind the huge old painted wardrobe along the corridor might be a man in black, with arm raised to strike. It was getting dark, so Ellie switched on lights.
Dear Lord, keep her safe.

The door to Thomas’s quiet room was ajar. It was a bare little room with just a couple of chairs in it and a Victorian wool picture on the wall: the Good Shepherd carrying a lamb to safety. Thomas went there when he needed to talk to God in peace and quiet. Would Mia want to go there?

Yes. Well, thank the Lord, she was there and safe. She was sitting in Thomas’s big chair, her feet not touching the ground. Her eyes were closed and she looked relaxed. Was she asleep? Should Ellie leave her be?

Ellie didn’t think she’d made any sound, but Mia started, rubbing her eyelids. ‘Sorry. Did you want me for something?’ She slid to her feet, trying to smile. ‘You don’t mind me coming in here, do you? It’s a sort of chapel, isn’t it? For Thomas?’

‘For everyone. I sometimes come up here, too, to be quiet. I brought back some clothes from Marks & Spencers. Would you like to see if anything fits?’

‘I’ve no money. I can’t afford to—’

‘Then you’ll allow me to lend you some till you get your finances sorted out.’

‘I suppose that’s all right, if you let me keep all the bills. I’ve been thinking, I really don’t want to go down to the bank. Can I borrow a computer and go online, see if my account is still OK? I should have some money left from my grant at university.’

‘Come into the spare room where there’s a full-length mirror. I ought to have asked you what you wanted, but anything you don’t like gets returned, no problem.’ She began to take clothes out of the bags and lay them out for Mia to see. ‘Try these jeans first. See if they fit.’

Mia shucked off the baggy pants she was wearing and tossed them aside. Her legs looked perfect, showing no sign of the beatings she’d experienced.

‘Not a bad fit,’ said Ellie. ‘I wasn’t sure about the pocket detail. What do you think?’

‘I like it.’ Mia surveyed herself in the mirror. ‘You got the length right, too.’

Ellie held out a T-shirt. ‘I don’t think you can go wrong with a plain white T-shirt. Blue and white suits you. I must admit I’ve always liked blue and white, ever since I was a child. What colours did your mother like to dress you in? Pink, I imagine?’

‘Mm.’ Mia stripped off her much-worn and washed sweatshirt. Her arms were clear of scars, too. She wore no bra, but had on a cotton vest. A vest? What young person nowadays wore a vest, especially in summer? Ellie did, nowadays, feeling a chill around the kidneys without one. But young people? Gracious!

Mia pulled on the proffered T-shirt and looked herself over, back and front. ‘Mummy used to dress me to match her when I was very little – mostly in pink, as you say – but Daddy used to like me in blue. He bought me a lovely blue outfit once, which I wore all the time till I grew out of it.’

Ellie held out another T-shirt. ‘Is that one a bit big for you? I can always change it. How did your father die?’

Mia tried the next T-shirt on. As she lifted her arms, Ellie noticed some scars on her breast, above the line of the vest. Mia had lost all self-consciousness by now.

‘I like this one even better. What do you think? The blue trim—’

‘Is pretty, yes. Would your father have approved?’

‘He was lovely. I cried buckets when he . . . but we don’t talk about that, do we? What’s next?’

‘One of those cropped tops. I think young girls wear them over their T-shirts nowadays.’ Ellie handed it over. ‘What did he do for a living?’

‘He illustrated children’s books. I loved them. There was a brilliant pop-up of Noah’s Ark, and another of Hansel and Gretel.’

‘Try this.’ Ellie handed over a pretty flower-printed dress, wrap-around style.

Mia held it up, shook her head. ‘Not my style. Why do you want to hear about my father?’

‘Curiosity, I suppose. I really wanted to know about your mother.’ Ellie produced a pale green dress with a low neckline and tiny buttons down the front.

‘I’ve never worn that colour, but . . . yes, it might suit me.’ Mia didn’t move to try it on, but sat on the bed with the dress over her knees. ‘Ursula brought me my bridesmaid’s dress. It’s beautiful. I can’t bear to look at it. I hung it up in the wardrobe here.’

‘You don’t want to talk about your father?’

‘There was a fire. Mummy had taken me to the cinema, which we never did – except for just that once. It was long past my bedtime. When we got home the house was on fire. He was in the bedroom he used as a study. He’d been drinking, she said. But he didn’t usually. Mummy cried buckets, but I didn’t. I couldn’t believe I’d never see him again. I was twelve years old.’

‘Misadventure?’

Mia looked away. Looked down at her hands. Looked back at Ellie. ‘That was the verdict, but now I wonder if she killed him. I know she’d hit him several times, but you know how it is when you’re a child, you accept what’s happening because you don’t know any better. She didn’t want me bringing friends home from school to make the place untidy. Well, I didn’t have any friends. Neither did he. We did as we were told, and so long as there was enough money for her to go out and have a good time, it wasn’t a bad life. She was always on at him to do more, but he was a gentle soul, you know . . . always smiling, until . . .

‘Yes, I think now that she killed him. Poured drink over him and set a candle to burn down, something to start a blaze while we were out. The people we went to stay with were friends of hers who worked for the Priors. She went to work for him, and then she married him and I was sent away to boarding school till I’d learned some social graces. You understand that I was at an awkward age, no help to her socially, and getting too old to pass off as her younger sister.’

‘I understand.’ Ellie held up a grey-green sweater, which Mia seemed to like but made no move to take. There were tears on her cheeks.

Ellie said, ‘You take after your father in looks?’

‘And temperament. If I’d been more like her, perhaps . . . Do you know, she even used to bleach my hair when I was little, to look like her? I was always a sullen, ungrateful little wretch who showed her up in company, though I did try, you know. I really did try to please her.’

‘What happened when you failed to please her?’

‘She’d slap me and say, “Don’t you dare let me down in front of my friends.”’ Mia took the sweater off Ellie and held it against herself as she looked in the mirror. ‘This is such a pretty colour. Stepdad Prior hardly noticed me at first. She told me to be quiet as a mouse and keep out of his way in the holidays, so I did. It was only after I left boarding school and was at home, going to day school, that he started looking at me in an odd sort of way. Sort of clinical. Only, not. Even more when I started at uni. I suppose I know why now.’

‘You met Ursula at university?’

Mia smiled. ‘She’s really something, isn’t she? She transformed my life. I’d never had a real friend before.’ Something tawny dropped down from the top of the wardrobe, landing behind Mia and making her scream and jump. ‘Oh!’

‘It’s only Midge, our cat. He disappears for hours and comes back when he feels like it or hasn’t been able to scrounge food elsewhere. Watch out for him. He can open any door that has a handle on it, though he can’t manage knobs.’

Mia held out her hand to Midge, who hunkered down at a safe distance from her, eyes on her face. ‘Why won’t he come to me?’

‘He divides the human race into three. Some people, like my daughter Diana, hate cats; he won’t go anywhere near her. Others – like Thomas – provide him with a nice warm lap to sit on. People like me and Rose are tolerated so long as we feed him as and when he requires it. He’s working out which kind you are.’

Ellie set out her remaining purchases: packs of panties, an underslip, a short, creamy nightdress and a caramel-coloured, shower-proof jacket. She removed the flowered wrap-around dress and put it back in one of the bags.

Midge finally made up his mind that Mia was an acceptable addition to his household and rubbed himself across her legs. Mia smiled, stroking him.

Ellie risked one last question. ‘Did you love your mother?’

Mia shook her head. ‘I knew I was supposed to, but I didn’t, not really. One day I realized that she didn’t love me, either. We were trying to cross a busy road and she had my arm in her grasp and she pulled me . . . and then slapped me. I hadn’t done anything. I tried never to do anything to annoy her.’

‘I understand. Would you like to show me the dress Ursula made for you?’

Mia got it out of the wardrobe, lifting layers of tissue paper to reveal it in all its glory. It was a long dress in lavender blue, in a soft uncrushable material. There was a low cut neckline, long tight sleeves, a ruched bodice, a gathered skirt.

It wasn’t particularly fashionable.

It was timeless.

‘Beautiful,’ murmured Ellie.

‘She says I must have my hair done and perhaps wear some make-up. She’s making a little tiara of silver wire and crystal beads for my hair, and she’s ordered a posy of white flowers for me to hold. She showed me the sketches she’d made for her own dress. They’re wonderful. I know I’ll never be a bride myself. I’ll never be a bridesmaid again, either. This is definitely a once and for all event.’ She tried to smile. ‘When I put the dress on, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself.’

‘That’s just it. You are stepping out of the past, leaving it behind. You can remake yourself now into whatever you want to be.’

‘I’m still “me” inside.’

‘Yes, you carry with you everything you’ve learned about human nature to date, the good and the evil. You can choose to stay in the past, if you wish. Or you can move forward.’

‘When I was at my aunt’s I didn’t really care whether I lived or died. I was worn out. Now I’m daring to hope that I might have a future, but every time I think that, I have to remind myself that it may never happen. Perhaps I’ll never even make it to the wedding.’ She put the dress back in the wardrobe. ‘I wonder who my mother’s got in her sights now. She won’t want to stick with Daddy Prior.’

Ellie remembered the letter signed ‘Adelina Rossi, ex-Prior, née Parham’. ‘You think she’ll divorce him?’

‘Of course. She’ll take him for what she can get and then . . . Who will she go after next? Someone even richer, with even more to offer? She’s a honeypot, you know. Men flock to her, they really do. She used to be stunningly beautiful. I used to sit on a little stool and watch her dress and make herself up, wishing I could be more like her. But I’m not like her, and I never will be.’

‘Be grateful for that,’ said Ellie. ‘I must tell you she knows you’re back in Ealing and says she’s just as much an innocent victim as you. How can she be innocent? She did know you were locked in your room and abused, didn’t she?’

‘She never came in to see me. At least, I don’t think so.’ Mia rubbed her forehead. ‘I was drugged, things are hazy, but I thought I heard her voice outside my room one day, asking when they planned to move me on. I think it was her voice. Yes; because who else could it have been?’

‘You told the police that she knew all about it?’

‘I don’t know. Those weeks in hospital and afterwards . . . they’re a blur. I remember people coming with a camera and me answering their questions. I know I had to stop once or twice because I was crying so much. Did they ask me about her? I suppose they did, but . . . I’m not sure.’

Ah, so that was why Mrs Prior had managed to get bail; Mia had not been specific enough about her mother’s involvement.

Ellie was restless. She wanted to talk to someone, but all the other members of the household were otherwise engaged. Mia was cooking supper, Rose was dozing in front of the television set, and Thomas was muttering over some paperwork. So Ellie went through the hall to potter in the conservatory.

Rose was right; there was not a great deal in flower at the moment. How about introducing some gerberas? A brilliant bougainvillea might be fun, or perhaps something striking in the form of a gardenia, in full flower? Or a collection of streptocarpuses? Or should that be streptocarpi? She must look up what flowers Ursula had ordered for her bouquet. Perhaps that would give her some ideas.

She drifted on into the garden, which she rarely dared to do nowadays. She loved flowers and had worked hard in the garden of the semi-detached house in which she’d lived most of her adult life. The garden in this big house was larger and offered more scope for trying out various planting schemes, but she never entered it without feeling like a trespasser because when Rose had gone to look after Miss Quicke she’d taken over the garden with a vengeance. She hadn’t altered the basic layout – which was basically a large rectangle of lawn surrounded by herbaceous borders – but she’d filled every spare inch of ground with the wildest possible combination of flowers. Miss Quicke hadn’t known one plant from another, but had indulged Rose in her enthusiasm. It was Miss Quicke who had added the conservatory at the back of the hall, to provide Rose with somewhere to grow tender plants in the winter. Only, since Rose had become rather frail, both garden and conservatory had begun to look a trifle neglected.