Murder With Mercy (20 page)

She looked at her wrist. Where on earth had her watch got to? She really must look for it when she'd a spare minute. She got to her feet. ‘Your coat's in the hall.'

That got him moving.

Mikey was not in the hall. A whisper of air as the door to the kitchen quarters closed.

That door was always kept open nowadays. Had he gone to look for Rose?

She said, ‘Did Anita leave a message for you?'

‘She did. “Sorry” and “I love you”. A typical suicide note, apparently.'

‘I wondered, have you looked to see if there might be an empty box in the waste-paper bin with a pharmacist's name on it? Or the name of the person who bought the sleeping tablets?'

He brightened up. ‘That's an idea. I'll look. Thank you,' said Freddie, offering his hand to shake. ‘I feel so much better after talking to you. Evan said you're good with people, and he's right.' He swung on his car coat and, passing the mirror over the hall table, exclaimed, ‘I need a shower and a change of clothes. Wish me luck with my sister.'

He opened the front door and vanished into the rain.

The door to the kitchen quarters opened. Mikey, wearing a sweater, jeans and unlaced trainers. Fully awake and with the heel of a loaf in his hand. No temperature.

His mouth full, he gestured her to follow him up the stairs. So who was in need of her services? Into the master bedroom he went, still chewing. He pointed to the bed, which lacked an occupant. Thomas had spilt his lemonade all over it. Thomas was in the bathroom; she could hear him growling to himself as he showered.

‘Are you all right, Thomas?'

‘I'm a clumsy brute. Spilt the lemonade all over myself. Is there any more where that came from?'

‘I'll see what I can do.' Bother. ‘I'll change the bed. Throw your dirty pyjamas out, will you?'

She looked around for Mikey to see if he'd help her, but he'd vanished. Of course. She stripped the bed, took the linen down the stairs to dump in the washing machine, turned it on, and rousted out some clean sheets. She'd look for Mikey after she'd got Thomas back into bed again.

There wasn't anything in the local paper about Petra falling down the stairs and killing herself. You'd have thought it would have been given a couple of inches of space. Single parent mother of … whatever it was the child was called … long-term partner of …? Names escaped her nowadays.

Perhaps it had happened before the paper was put to bed – if that was the right word for it – and it would be in next week's edition. An upsetting episode, but the girl had brought it on herself, hadn't she?

Evan, now. She'd felt quite annoyed with him because he'd a lot to live for, what with a new wife, who was capable of looking after the office for him while he stopped at home, and a baby boy coming. But no, all he could do was whine about his aches and pains.

He never gave a thought to her problems. Wasn't that just like a man?

To think how Evan used to stride around the place, telling everyone what to do, boasting about his successes … Yes, he'd been a bit of a braggart, even her own dear husband had used to say so.

She did wonder if he were hitting the bottle a little too hard, because almost the first thing he asked her to do was to pour him out a whisky, no ice, no water. He'd sworn it was his first drink of the day, and he did calm down a lot afterwards. He'd even told her a joke or two, admittedly not in good taste.

If he asked her to help him she supposed she would have to do so, but this must be the last time. She was getting too old and tired for it, nowadays.

Housebound, that's what she was. Invalids here, invalids there. Everywhere she looked were invalids. Well, to be accurate, there were only two of them, but neither was fit to get out of bed, and Thomas – although contrite about his accident with the lemonade – was going to need some serious nursing if she were any judge of the matter.

Vera was over the worst of it, but as weak as the proverbial kitten. She couldn't stand for more than two seconds without folding back on to her bed.

Mikey was like a silverfish. One moment he was in plain sight, and the next he'd whisked himself away. She supposed it was a good thing that he hadn't got flu, but when she laid hands on him, she'd … Well, she wasn't sure what she was going to do, but he'd be sorry he ever missed school.

Now, should she ring his teacher to see if there were any worksheets he could be doing while he was at home, or should she send him back to school? Back to school. Definitely. She'd make him go back. Tomorrow.

No, wait a minute, tomorrow was Saturday.

Saturday meant the weekend. She needed to do a serious shop for the weekend. She really would have to go online and do it as soon as she had a free moment. She didn't like shopping online. She was sure to make a mistake.

Perhaps Mikey would do it for her? If she could catch him.

Up and down the stairs we go. There were no lemons left for the invalids' drinks, and she couldn't really leave the house long enough to get some. If she ordered them online, they wouldn't come till tomorrow. Who could she get to run to the shops for her?

And the rain came down, and the floods came up … Well, almost. There were puddles on the lawn, and puddles in the drive. Passing cars in the road went swishing through yet more puddles. Anyone for Noah's Ark?

Passing through the hall, she heard the phone ring in a muted, desperate way. She ignored it. Into the kitchen she went to check on Rose and root around in the freezer for some oranges, for any kind of fruit. Mikey was sitting at the table, eating an apple and using his mother's laptop.

Rose said, ‘I'm telling him what we need and he's ordering it for us online. I've got fruit and spreadable butter and some greens; two lots of frozen would be best. We need tomatoes, not in tins. Cereals, his kind and ours. Oh, and tomatoes in tins. Now, from the bakery section, what about two wholemeal loaves, sliced if they have them? Some biscuits, chocolate and shortbread. Put down some iced buns or chocolate muffins for yourself, Mikey. We're out of balsamic vinegar and cooking oil, too. Meat next. What shall we have, Ellie?'

‘A large chicken, some mince, some lamb chops and some sliced ham for the weekend.' Ellie tried to remember what they usually ordered. More meat, veg and fruit. More of everything. She did her best to make up the list for Mikey, concluding, ‘We also need two packets of throat pastilles, some aspirin and a couple of big boxes of tissues, man size. Let me see what you've ordered, Mikey.'

He showed her, crunching away at his apple. It looked all right to her. She was pleased to see he'd added basics like potatoes and cat food. Mikey was even better at this than Vera.

‘Fine. Press send.' She straightened up. ‘The only problem is that it won't come till tomorrow. We'll need some fish for tonight. Salmon steaks, perhaps, and fruit.' She dithered, looking out on to the rain which was sheeting down. ‘I'd better take a cab and get some.'

Mikey raised his hand, still munching.

‘You want to go? Certainly not! If you're fit to go to the shops, you're fit to be in school. Oh, Mikey; what a mess you're in! We're going to have to have a long talk about this with your mother very soon, because she doesn't know the half of it, does she? But I don't want you bothering her with it now she's so poorly, understood?'

He nodded, stuffed the apple core into his mouth and dived into the larder where they kept Rose's basket on wheels. Rose hadn't been out of the house for weeks, and she certainly wasn't strong enough to trek to the shops and back.

‘Mikey, if you're fit to go to the shops, you're fit to go back to school.'

He shook his head, grinning. Then he rubbed his thumb against his fingers in the age-old request for money.

Rose gave in first. ‘Mikey, I'm not at all sure you should be allowed out after what you've been up to, but I don't suppose you'll come to any harm going to the shops and back, and it would save Ellie a peck of trouble.' She gave him a hug. ‘Be careful, now. And make sure the waterproof cover is on the basket so the things you buy don't get wet. Get yourself some of your favourite chocolate biscuits while you're out. Do you want my umbrella?'

He shook his head.

Ellie turned him to face her. ‘Dear Mikey. We're both so worried about you. I don't know that you ought to go out, but it's true we do need these things. You must promise me you won't go on to the building site? Cross your heart and hope to die promise?'

He nodded, serious. The bruise on his face was pretty bad, and the skin around his eye was still puffy. But if Mikey promised he wouldn't do something, he probably wouldn't. Probably.

Ellie fetched her handbag and counted out some money for him to take. She saw him dressed in sensible wet weather clothing and sent him out into the rain.

Well, a spot of rain wouldn't do him any harm.

As Ellie watched the boy disappear into the gloomy day, Diana drew up in her car with a squelch, manoeuvred herself out from under the steering wheel and waddled up the step and into the hall.

‘Other people,' said Diana, in a savage tone, ‘can rely on their mothers to help them when they're in trouble. I tried and tried to ring you this morning so that you could go to the hospital with me, but you didn't pick up.'

Ellie shot a glance at the phone. She remembered muting the tone so she'd get a bit of peace. She hadn't turned it up again, had she?

Diana was in full flow. ‘I've been having back pains all night. Evan said it was no more than to be expected …'

Diana was Evan's fourth wife and he'd sired a fair number of children over the years, so he probably knew what he was talking about.

‘… so, even though I didn't get a wink of sleep, I dragged myself off to work. But then it got worse so I had to take myself off to the hospital, only to be told that I was having Brampton Apples or something, and that the baby wasn't nearly ready to come.'

‘Braxton Hicks. False contractions. I remember them,' said Ellie. ‘Surely you had them during your first pregnancy?'

‘I was younger, then.' Diana led the way into the sitting room and let herself down on to the big, high-backed chair in front of the fireplace. Ellie's chair. Diana sniffed. Was she really going to burst into tears? ‘Evan can't think about anything but his own problems. He thinks I should be as concerned about them as he is. Also, he's drinking too much.' Diana rubbed the small of her back. ‘The house is a mess. He's been having visitors, but never bothers to put the dirty glasses in the dishwasher. I counted six! Six! I did ask you to vet his callers. I thought you might at least do that for me. I don't want him dying of liver poisoning before the baby's born.'

On the defensive again, Ellie said, ‘I did try. Six glasses? Did he give himself a clean glass each time? If so, there'd have been three callers. I know of two. Freddie—'

‘Oh, him! Drinking himself into his grave because his wife had had enough of him.'

‘Oh, come on, Diana. He's grief-stricken. Then there's Marcia. Is she a drinker?'

‘She never refuses a snifter. Or Pauline.'

Ellie had forgotten she was supposed to visit someone called Pauline. She couldn't even remember whether she was a widow or not. Probably. Where did she live? Locally? ‘Sorry, I haven't had time to get round to her.'

‘I've only ever asked you to do one little thing for me, and you say you can't find “time to get round to her”? I need to have people visiting Evan who won't encourage him to drink. Mother, I despair of you! Don't you care what happens to me?'

‘Don't talk nonsense, Diana.' Ellie bit her lip, because Diana did look deathly pale. ‘You're not fit to go into work. Why don't you go home and lie down for a bit?'

Diana moaned, shifting on her chair. ‘I can't get comfortable whatever I do. And who is to bring home the pennies, if I don't supervise everything at the agency?'

‘You'll be suggesting next that I take over your desk at work.'

Diana was silent. ‘I've been thinking about it, yes.'

‘I was joking! No, Diana. No. I can't. Won't. I've enough on my plate already. Both Thomas and Vera have gone down with flu, and young Mikey's in trouble with the law.'

‘I've always said that boy's no good.'

Actually, no: she hadn't.

Diana rubbed her forehead. ‘I can't be expected to work when the baby's due at any minute but the staff are hopeless, running around like headless chickens.'

She only had herself to blame for that because she'd sacked an excellent second-in-command because he wouldn't cut corners.

Diana said, ‘You run your charitable trust all right. You could easily help me out at the office, if you wanted to.'

Ellie's patience had worn out. ‘No, I couldn't. It's not my scene, and you know it. Why don't you arrange for Evan to go in to work every day? He could direct operations from his wheelchair, because there's nothing wrong with his head. Get a taxi to collect him in the mornings and bring him back in the evenings.'

‘He says he's not well enough. All he wants to do is to sit drinking with his old pals, and you haven't helped me at all in that direction.'

‘I didn't realize you wanted his visitors to be teetotal. You should have said.'

Diana burst into angry, noisy tears. ‘You never loved me.'

Ellie wondered for one awful moment whether this were true. But, no. Of course it wasn't true. She made herself calm down. In a reasonably convincing tone she said, ‘I have always loved you. From the moment you were born, you were the centre of my life. I don't think you noticed me much, though, because you were always your father's little girl, weren't you? He loved you to distraction. He gave you everything you asked for, sometimes even before you asked for it.'