Murder in Midwinter (4 page)

“The Silver Serenaders became The Alexandrians and were as well known in this part of the country as Will Catlin’s Royal Pierrots in Scarborough. Eventually, the Alexandria stayed open all year and attracted some of the top Music Hall artistes. My mother would go to London during the winter to see their acts and bring them down here the following summer. She was also somewhat of a personality among the literary set, several of whom professed to be in love with her.

“During the war The Alexandrians became an all female troupe, but towards the end of the war, when my mother went up to London, she met a popular singer and comedian called Daniel Durbridge whom she persuaded to join us. Unfortunately, by the time she discovered she was pregnant, she had also discovered that he was already married. Bertram was born just after Armistice Day in 1918, Daniel left his wife and persuaded my mother to join him, leaving Bertram and myself in the care of one of the women in the troupe. Together, they went to South Africa and then toured Ceylon, but when they returned, Daniel went back to his wife. I wanted her to come back here, as The Alexandrians were still running the theatre, but my mother wanted to try her luck in London and sent for Bertram to join her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t successful, and in 1932, when Bertram left school, he left home as well, so she returned here. We continued to run the Alexandria until her last illness in 1952, after which I used to lease it for the summer season to small companies for summer repertory. By the beginning of the sixties, that sort of thing was dying out and I closed the theatre.

“What you intend to do with the building, I do not know. It has been used as warehousing for various businesses in the town, but as far as I know, the seating and the stage are still there. Robert Grimshaw has tried to persuade me to sell it time after time – the site alone being worth a considerable amount of money – but I have a good deal of affection for the old place and I like to go and sit on the park bench opposite and remember. I hope you will do the same. For some reason, my mother thought, when you were born, that you would be the one to carry on the family tradition, but as far as I know, you are not in the profession and I have no idea whether you would have any interest in it. If you wish to sell the Alexandria, I hope you will, but please make sure that all the programmes and costumes that I have kept are housed properly, as I cannot help but feel they will be of great interest to historians, particularly local and theatrical.

“It is interesting that your father should have chosen a name so similar to mine and our mother’s for you. Perhaps he still retained some family feeling for us, after all.

“I hope my bequest will be of some help to you, my dear Arabella, and I regret that we did not meet during my lifetime.

“Your affectionate aunt,

“Maria May Alexander.”

It was dated five years previously.

Bella sat staring out of the window for a long time until the cat recalled her attention by changing position and kneading her knees through her jeans.

‘Ow! Stop that,’ she said, giving it a gentle push and standing up. It stretched and promptly jumped back on to the other chair.

‘Well, you obviously knew Maria.’ Bella told it. ‘What a pity you can’t talk.’ She sighed. ‘But you can’t stay here. I’ve got to go. Come on.’

After she had put the protesting cat out of the back door, she refolded the letter and replaced it in its envelope before taking a final look round. Outside, she stepped back to have a good look at March Cottage and its six neighbours, all of which looked in good repair and quite attractive, now she came to think of it. The street, Pedlar’s Row, was only the length of the terrace of cottages and on the opposite side consisted of a high stone wall, over which hung variegated foliage suggesting a large and well tended garden behind. The village, all twisting lanes and a couple of small shops, which were now a high class delicatessen and off licence respectively, had a pub, The Red Lion, which hid round the corner of the high wall and Bella went inside.

There was no one in the dark, flag-stoned bar, except a large, middle-aged man behind the counter.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I wondered if you had the number of a local taxi firm?’ asked Bella.

‘Over there,’ he said, waving a hand towards the end of the bar and retiring behind his newspaper.

Bella dialled the number of the taxi service on her mobile and told them where to pick her up. She had ten minutes to wait, so decided to risk a half of lager instead of the longed for cup of tea.

‘I don’t suppose you knew Miss Alexander who lived round the corner in Pedlar’s Row?’ she asked as the landlord handed over her change.

‘Maria? I should say.’ He grinned. ‘Here, you’re not her niece, are you?’

‘Yes.’ Bella stared at him.

He laughed. ‘Lor’ bless yer! She was always telling us that she was leaving her house to her niece. And the theatre, of course. “She doesn’t know, yet,” she’d say. “It’ll be a nice surprise for her.” I’ll bet it was, too.’

‘It certainly was.’ Bella took a sip of lager, surprised at how different it tasted in the middle of the afternoon. ‘So she used to come in here, did she?’

‘Oh, yes, reg’lar as clockwork, every evening about seven o’clock, she’d come in for her brandy. Then off she’d toddle about eight. Till last winter, of course.’ He looked gloomy. ‘The missus realised she ’adn’t been in and popped round. Lucky we knew about the spare key, or she could ’ave died then and there. Still, we got ’er to ’ospital all right. Not that she liked it there.’

He looked up at Bella, a pained expression on his face. ‘We wanted to call you, but she wouldn’t tell us how to get hold of you, so we couldn’t. She said you didn’t know about her.’

‘That’s right, I didn’t. I can’t believe that I’ve gone all through my life not knowing I had an aunt.’ Bella shook her head and swallowed some more lager. ‘By the way, do you know anything about a black and white cat who must live near here? He came into the cottage with me.’

‘That’s Balzac. He was her cat. ’Er next door’s been lookin’ after ’im – except I don’t think she allows ’im inside.’

‘Oh, I see. Shame I can’t take him back with me.’ Bella finished her lager as she heard the taxi draw up outside. ‘I’ll be down again, soon, so I’ll call in again. Thanks.’

‘Pleasure.’ The landlord nodded. ‘Nice to meet you.’

She hesitated. ‘I suppose –’ she began slowly, ‘you don’t let rooms?’

The landlord shook his head. ‘No, love, sorry. Was you not goin’ to stay in the cottage?’

‘I’m not sure yet. Not to start with, anyway.’

‘I tell you where you could stay – over at Steeple Martin. There’s a nice little pub there – three rooms, I think they’ve got. Good food by all accounts.’

‘Is it far?’

‘About two miles. Reason I suggested Steeple Martin is they’ve got a theatre there. In a converted oast house. Woman over there runs it. Might know something about Maria’s theatre.’

‘Well, thank you Mr, er –’

‘Felton. Just call me George.’

‘George.’ Bella smiled. ‘Thanks again.’

‘Do you know the old theatre, the Alexandria?’ Bella asked, as the taxi drove back into the town, into tree-lined streets with shining pavements, battered by the rain which had started while Bella was in the pub and was building itself up in to a positive downpour.

‘Yeah. Why, do you want to go there?’ The taxi driver didn’t look at her.

‘Will it take us out of our way?’

‘It’s the other end of town, but it don’t matter to me.’

‘All right, then, yes please.’ Bella sat back and peered out of the window as the taxi turned and began to go back to the old part of town.

‘There.’ The taxi driver pulled in to the side of the road and put on his hand brake.

The Alexandria stood alone, facing a small ornamental garden, the cliff and the sea to its right, the town ahead of it and to its left. It reminded Bella of a miniature pier pavilion that had been marooned, its pointed glass cupola smashed, the front boarded up behind important looking pillars. The pillars and the boards had been the recipients of the usual graffiti and fly posting, the whole looking gloomy and forlorn under the grey clouds and persistent rain.

‘Thank you,’ said Bella, sitting back in her seat. ‘I’ll go on to the station, now.’

Two hours later she fitted her key in the lock and bent down to pick up the parcel of fish and chips.

‘Mum.’ Tony was there, enfolding her in a bony hug. ‘What have you got there?’

‘Chips.’ Amanda sniffed as she poked her head over his shoulder to give her mother a kiss. ‘Great.’

‘Let your mother get in, now.’ Andrew’s voice was avuncular, tolerant, someone playing a part. Bella winced. The children parted like the Red Sea and he loomed towards her.

‘Good journey?’ He planted a dry kiss on her lips. ‘You needn’t have bothered with fish and chips. We’ve eaten.’

‘Well, I haven’t,’ snapped Bella and bent wearily to pick up her holdall, no one else having thought to relieve her of it.

‘Here, Mum, I’ll take that.’ Tony grabbed the greasy parcel and bore it off towards the kitchen. ‘Did you get some for us?’

‘Yes.’ Bella dumped her holdall on the kitchen floor and pulled out a chair. ‘I’m whacked.’

‘Shall I put the food out?’ Amanda lounged through the doorway, chewing idly on the end of her school tie.

‘Yes, please, darling. And could you put the kettle on?’

Andrew pulled out another chair and sat down opposite her at the table. ‘So, tell me. How did it go?’

‘All right. I saw the cottage. March Cottage, it’s called, in Pedlar’s Row, Heronsbourne. I also found out she’s left me a derelict theatre. So I found out where that was, too – is, rather. It hasn’t been used for years, but it’s still there.’

‘Come now.’ Andrew was big, bluff and superior. She could see him stopping himself from saying “little woman” and patting her on the hand – or the head. ‘A theatre? Prime real estate, would it be? And your father knew nothing about it?’

‘I don’t honestly know. I suppose so, but he never mentioned it to me, or to mum. I didn’t know until the will, you know that.’

‘I think it’s exciting.’ Tony put a plate of fish and chips in front of her, tastefully decorated with bits of greaseproof paper. She peeled them off.

‘Can I have some?’ Amanda was hovering over the open parcel on the draining board. ‘Go on about the theatre.’

‘Well, there isn’t much more to tell.’ Bella chewed a mouthful of fish and extracted a bone. ‘It’s there, although I didn’t see inside it, it’s mine, and I don’t suppose there would be a problem if I wanted to re-establish it as a theatre. About the licence and all that.’

She became aware of the silence as she finished the next mouthful and looked up. Tony and Amanda were studiously avoiding Andrew’s set face.

‘Re-establish it?’ he asked finally. ‘What do you mean?’

Bella didn’t actually know what she meant. It had just come out.

‘Er, well – re-open it. You know.’ She returned to the rapidly cooling fish. She didn’t want to discuss the Alexandria now.

‘No, I don’t know.’ Andrew pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I thought the whole idea was to see what the cottage was like in order to sell it – see if we could realise some capital on it.’

Amanda leaned between them and put down a mug of tea. ‘We’ll be in the front room, Mum,’ she said tactfully, and vanished.

Bella pushed her plate away and pulled her tea towards her, recognising the inevitable. There was to be a row – decreed by Andrew.

‘I don’t think I ever said that.’ She refused to meet his eyes. ‘I just said I wanted to go and find it.’

‘Yes – but I assumed you’d sell the cottage. And this
theatre 
–’ he gave it undue emphasis ‘– I mean – what on earth would you do with a derelict building in Kent? You couldn’t live there.’

‘Not in the theatre, no.’

‘What
are
you talking about, Bella? You’re not seriously suggesting we move there, are you? What on earth
for
?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bella was exasperated. ‘I haven’t really thought about it yet.’ She stood up. ‘I’ve only just got in, for heaven’s sake.’

Andrew stood back, glowering at her. ‘We’ll talk about it later, then. After you’ve unpacked.’

‘I’m not going to unpack just yet.’ Bella swept past him, ignoring his thunderstruck expression. ‘I can’t be bothered.’

‘Where are you going? What about the plates?’

‘You can do them, if you like. Or I’ll do them in the morning. It doesn’t matter.’ She steeled herself against the barrage of words that was sure to come – but surprisingly, didn’t. Round One to me, she thought, and wandered in to the front room to talk to the children.

It was much later, in bed, when Andrew returned to the subject. Bella didn’t mind, because if she annoyed him he wouldn’t pester her.

‘So what’s all this about a little theatre, then?’ She could hear the indulgent smile in his voice.

‘All what?’ she asked, turning a blank face towards him. She watched the twitch of annoyance, quickly smoothed away, as he settled his naked body more comfortably under the duvet, turned slightly towards her.

‘Well, opening it. That’s what you said, didn’t you? Or did you mean you would hand it over to the local council to run?’

‘I don’t know, Andrew. I haven’t thought it through, yet, as I told you. All I could think about on the train home was that I owned a theatre. That is very exciting, you know, especially for someone like me.’

He turned heavily on to his back.

‘What do you want to do, then? Run an am-dram group down there, or something?’ He clasped his hands behind his head irritably. Out of the way there, thought Bella with satisfaction.

‘Hardly,’ she said out loud. ‘That’s difficult enough here. I couldn’t do it down there. No,’ she said, turning her back on him and switching off her bedside light. ‘It would be professional.’

The silence that followed this remark – which had surprised Bella quite as much as it had surprised Andrew – went on for so long that Bella began to get worried. Could people have silent heart attacks? she wondered.

‘I don’t understand you.’ Andrew’s voice was tight. ‘Are you saying you
will
lease it to the council after all?’