The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) (25 page)

Aggie was asleep in her hospital-like bed. Helen dropped Ruth’s cardigan on a chair, pulled the curtains back and opened the window to banish the familiar stuffiness in the room. Aggie stirred lightly but didn’t wake, and she drew up a chair and sat down by her grandmother’s bedside. Her insides were churning with more questions and uncertainties, and she resisted the temptation to shake her grandmother awake.

The minutes ticked by, and the sound of Aggie’s raspy breathing and the curtains swishing slightly calmed her and enabled her to apply some logic.

Letitia was involved in something not quite right, and Aggie really ought to know, but she didn’t have the heart to tell her. Or did Aggie already know? Her aunts and Mimi had squabbled over the company, in Aggie’s own words. And Aggie had been equally tied up with the company at the time of Helen’s mother’s death, perhaps more so than her aunt Letitia …

Was it all just one big nasty conspiracy to do away with Mimi and ruin Helen’s life?

Her paranoia had it making sense, then she pushed the thought aside because the idea was frankly ridiculous. Why would Aggie urge Helen to come home, suggest she find out more about Fay, if she’d been involved herself? It would be more logical for her to avoid the subject and leave Helen to rot in India. And if Letitia, Aggie’s own flesh and blood, had had something to do with it, and Aggie knew about it, she’d do everything to protect her daughter instead of stirring things up.

That’s what mothers did, protected their children.

Except instead of protecting her daughter, Mimi had unwittingly exposed her to a killer.

She went back to that fatal morning. She’d had a seizure in the car and woken up to find Fay covered in her mother’s blood. There’d been no doubt in her mind who was to blame.

Yet now she saw everything in a different light. Mimi was meeting someone, Helen didn’t know who. There had been a bag on the back, a beaded and sequinned bag, with papers in it.

She remembered what her mother had said to her when they got in the car. ‘You mustn’t touch it, darling. It’s got important stuff in it that someone wants.’

‘But I like the bag. Can we keep the bag, please, Mummy?’ she’d pleaded, but Mimi had shushed her.

And she
had
touched it. She’d been a naughty girl and ignored what her mother said because she’d been looking for her medicine, and then her mother had died. Guilty tears, irrational tears, pressed in the corners of her eyes.

The bag had disappeared, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that someone had taken it and maybe her mother had died because of what was in it.

Aggie had said Helen was safer away from the family. If the papers had something to do with the company this could have led to one of the others taking matters in their own hands, but then why would Aggie want the real killer exposed instead of leaving the blame with Fay as it had been for twenty years, especially if it turned out to have something to do with either of her daughters? It went against the grain, and she didn’t believe that this was Aggie’s perverse way of making amends for her neglect. Her grandmother was too direct for that. In fact, hadn’t Aggie pointed out it was Helen’s uncle that she didn’t trust?

She looked at her grandmother’s sleeping form, at a face she’d both hated and loved. The hatred had gone now. Aggie couldn’t be involved, she just couldn’t. The thought was too unbearable.

On Monday morning Letitia called Helen into her office. To her surprise Ruth was there too, standing by the window, arms crossed. She sent Helen a sour look.

Uh-oh, Helen thought, when Letitia didn’t invite her to sit down. Despite Charlie’s reassurances, had Letitia discovered they’d been on her computer?

But her aunt threw her with her question. ‘Are you the careful sort?’

‘Er, yes, I think so.’

‘Good, because I want you to pick up a parcel for me. From Stephanov’s house. Your loving uncle,’ she added as an afterthought, any spite too well-disguised to be noticed.

From her position by the window Ruth uttered a contemptuous snort.

Helen ignored her. ‘A parcel? Don’t the drivers normally do that?’

‘They’re all out on other jobs, and I need it before eleven.’ She handed Helen a business card. ‘Here’s the address.’

‘I know where it is.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’ Letitia’s pencilled eyebrow rose a notch.

‘I was there at his dinner party.’

‘Of course, you were. I’d completely forgotten. Quite the little family reunion, I should imagine.’

This time there was definitely a hint of spite. ‘Not really. I don’t have a lot to say to him.’

‘Mm, a shame, since he’s the only family you have.’

Helen looked from one aunt to the other. Letitia was drawing the lines very clearly, but Ruth looked like she wanted to add something, then thought better of it. It shouldn’t hurt because neither of them meant anything to her, but the barb found its mark. Letitia had changed from the woman who’d welcomed her back only recently and had fed the hope of some sort of normality in Helen’s life. Why had she turned cold again if she didn’t know about that business with the computer?

Because of Arseni? Hell, she was welcome to him.

And Ruth? She seemed the same, neither cold nor welcoming, just … watchful, maybe.

Helen’s anger rose, but she kept a lid on it. She was a co-owner of this company and had just as much right to be here as either of them. ‘What’s in the parcel?’

‘Never you mind.’

‘I think I’m entitled to know what goes on around here. After all, I own a percentage of the shares. Voting shares, as far as I know.’

Ruth laughed suddenly. ‘Looks like she’s got you by the proverbials, Lettie.’

Lettie?
Helen turned to Ruth. There was genuine mirth in her eyes, and she gave an imperceptible nod of what looked like approval. Warmth spread in her chest, and she bit her lip to stop herself from smiling.

Letitia’s nostrils flared. ‘I hope you don’t mean that the way I think you do,’ she said, ignoring her sister.

‘I dunno, you tell me.’

‘When you’ve worked yourself up to my position, ask me that question again, and I might give you a different answer. Until then, no, you’re not entitled to know everything that goes on around here.’

They stared at each other across the desk, tension crackling. Despite Letitia’s arrogance Helen had a grudging respect for her. It was also possible she was in trouble, and Helen had lost so many people already, it was beginning to look like carelessness. She couldn’t back down over this.

Sighing, Letitia was the first to break eye contact. ‘It’s a valuable Russian icon which belongs to your uncle, and now he wants to sell it. On the quiet. It’s not going in the catalogue. Satisfied?’

‘Just about.’

‘Now would you please get yourself into a taxi and go over there? I’ve arranged for a private buyer to be here for lunch. I need it before then.’

Helen hadn’t seen Arseni since Aggie had voiced her distrust of him, and a low anger had simmered inside her afterwards knowing it was partly because of him that Aggie had sent her away. And if Aggie was right? Had he played an even bigger role in Helen’s fate? Perhaps this would be an opportunity to ask some of her many questions.

However, getting to her uncle’s house and back in time for the deadline turned out to be problematic. Stuck in the back of a taxi, Helen could only watch as the traffic moved along at a snail’s pace. A coach, having attempted an illegal U-turn along Piccadilly, was blocking the road. She rapped on the glass screen separating her from the cab driver. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Looks like he’s broken down,’ came the reply. ‘You in a hurry?’

‘I am, actually.’

The cab driver shook his head. ‘Well, your best bet is to get out and walk it, then. We could be stuck here for a long time, I reckon.’

‘All right. Thanks.’ Helen paid the driver and began walking in the direction of Knightsbridge. After her battle of wills with Letitia, she wanted to show that she was able to carry out instructions to the letter. A small part of her told her that her mother would have approved.

A screech of brakes made her turn around.

‘Fancy a lift?’ Charlie was astride Jim’s scooter with the engine sputtering and the visor of her helmet pushed up.

‘On that thing?’

‘Got a better idea?’

Helen looked at the traffic around her. The coach was still blocking the road accompanied by a cacophony of impatient car horns, and the coach driver, a scowling dark-haired man with a five o’clock shadow, was leaning out of the nearside window, shouting and gesticulating in a foreign language which needed no translation.

‘Good point.’ She climbed on the scooter behind Charlie.

‘Where are we going?’

Helen rattled off Arseni’s address. Charlie turned the throttle, and with a blast accelerated down the road like an angry wasp, narrowly missing the back of the coach.

‘Wait!’ Helen screeched. ‘I haven’t got a helmet!’

‘Oh, come on. Live a little.’

She closed her eyes as Charlie weaved in and out through the slow-moving traffic, mounting the pavement when gaps between cars were too narrow for the scooter, but after a while she began to enjoy the crazy ride. The wind played with her hair, and her insides did a flip every time Charlie drove off the edge of a pavement and they found themselves airborne for a second or two.

When they pulled up outside her uncle’s house, her heart was hammering wildly, her cheeks flushed, and she was relieved to be alive.

Charlie took off her helmet and gawped at the house. ‘Wow, fancy place. Why are we here?’

‘A pick-up for Letitia. I’d better go in alone.’

‘No way.’ Charlie locked the scooter to a sign post with a chunky chain. ‘Why should you have all the fun?’

Helen sighed. So much for the opportunity to ask questions.

The maid showed them into Arseni’s office.

‘Helen. My dear niece.’ Arseni cocked his head to one side as if she was a stray puppy who had finally found its way home. ‘How lucky I am they sent you.’

Helen felt Charlie’s eyes on her and cursed herself for not insisting she waited outside. She could have spun some yarn about client confidentiality or something like that. Jason knew about the connection but had not, as far as she was aware, told anyone about it. Charlie was going to give her hell.

Her uncle spotted Charlie. ‘And who is this charming young’—he looked her up and down and raised a quizzical eyebrow—‘
person
?’

‘Charlie,’ said Charlie. ‘Charlotte,’ she added with a mutinous expression and dug her hands deep in the trouser pockets.

‘Ah, a beautiful name for an English rose.’

Charlie snorted

‘The traffic was bad,’ said Helen, ‘so Charlie gave me a lift on her scooter. Letitia told me to be as quick as possible, and that the parcel is small enough.’ She hoped her uncle would hand it over straight away. The sooner she and Charlie were out of here the better.

‘On a scooter? Is it safe?’

‘As safe as any kind of courier.’ Arseni’s attempt at playing the concerned relative all of a sudden irked her, but she decided not to mention Charlie’s inventiveness when it came to negotiating London traffic.

Mollified, he unlocked a desk drawer and took out a flat packet wrapped in brown paper. It was small, smaller than a sheet of printer paper and roughly three inches thick. He passed it to Helen as well a large envelope, which she tucked under her arm.

‘This is important paperwork. Your aunt will know what to do with it.’

Helen felt Charlie stiffen behind her at the word ‘aunt’ and hoped she didn’t make the connection. ‘We need to get back,’ she said.

Arseni cocked his head to one side. ‘So soon? You are not staying for lunch? You can bring your friend too. We can be one big happy family.’ He held out his arms. ‘Have you a kiss for your old uncle?’

‘
One big happy family?
’ Charlie mimicked when they were back on the pavement. ‘This greasy snake is your uncle? I’d rather cut my leg off than be related to him.’

Irritation prickled between Helen’s shoulder blades. It’s all right for you, she wanted to say, then realised that Charlie didn’t have much family either. ‘I didn’t choose him.’

‘And who’s this aunt of yours?’ said Charlie. ‘What’s she got to do with Ransome’s?’

Helen hesitated. Keeping secrets was a knee-jerk reaction from having always relied on herself, but keeping them from friends meant you risked losing them. She’d nearly lost Jason’s respect when he’d found the clippings folder. She could, of course, pretend her uncle had been referring to a wife and put the ambiguity down to the well-studied accent, but what about next time? Secrets always came out, one way or another.

‘Letitia.’

‘
Letitia?
’

‘Letitia’s my aunt. Or my step-aunt if you like. My grandfather on my mother’s side was married to her mother. It’s a family company.’ Helen opened the scooter’s top box and placed the parcel and envelope inside.

‘You’re having me on. Really?’ Charlie flicked back a greasy dreadlock. ‘But she’s loaded! And what about your parents? Where are they? Aren’t they part of it?’

‘My parents are dead.’

‘Oh.’ Charlie looked agog for a moment, but her surprise didn’t last long. ‘You, then,’ she insisted. ‘You must have a share in it. So what the hell are you doing, fetching and carrying and getting your hands dirty? You should be off on some Caribbean island eating lobster and sipping cocktails and doing whatever rich people do.’

‘I don’t have a lot of experience of rich people.’

‘I don’t get it. You must have. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, for Christ’s sake!’

Suddenly all the rage Helen had kept under control for so long spewed out of her, and she swung to face Charlie, an innocent but convenient target.

‘What if I don’t want any of it?’ she spat. ‘What if they all let me down when I needed them? What if they’re all trying to buy me back into their lives with their bloody money? Can you understand that? How it makes me feel?’

A wounded look crept into Charlie’s eyes, but again she recovered quickly. ‘Yeah, I can understand that. They pissed on you, and now you’re too proud to forgive them. I wasn’t blind in there, you know.’