The Scold's Bridle (21 page)

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Authors: Minette Walters

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #antique

BOOK: The Scold's Bridle
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"Don't be so stuffy, woman. You've got to try them from time to time, otherwise you'll end up with a collector's item that's totally undrinkable." He filled the glass and pushed it across the table, his eyes bright with mischief. She felt a surge of affection for the randy bastard-love, she thought, was the most stubborn of all the diseases-but hid it under a ferocious glare. "The consensus view amongst the three of us," he went on cheerfully, "is dark ruby colour, brilliant legs, and a very exotic nose-curranty fruit, cigar box and hints of herbs and spices."
"It's a vintage wine, you moron. It's supposed to be savoured and appreciated, not drunk at five o'clock in the afternoon round the kitchen table. I bet you didn't let it breathe. I bet you just poured it out like Lucozade."
Cooper cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Dr. Blakeney. We did say we'd be happier with tea."
"You pusillanimous rat," said Jack with imperturbable good humour. "You drooled when I waved the bottle under your nose. Well, come on, old thing, you might as well try it. We're all dying for second helpings but we thought it would be tactful to wait till you arrived before we opened another one."
"Your life expectancy would be nil if you had," she said, dropping her handbag and shrugging her coat to the floor. "All right. Give it here, but I can tell you now it won't be drinkable. It needs another three years at least." She sat in the vacant chair and drew the glass towards her, covering it with one hand and swirling it gently to release the bouquet. She sniffed appreciatively. "Who smelt cigar boxes?"
"I did," said Cooper nervously.
"That's good. The book says the bouquet should be smoky oak and cedar. Curranty fruit?"
Cooper indicated himself again. "Me."
"Have you done this before?" He shook his head. "You should take it up. You've obviously got a nose for it."
"Ruth and I sussed the herbs and spices," said Jack. "What's the verdict?"
Sarah took a sip and let the flavours play across her tongue. "Spectacular," she said finally, "but you're bloody well not opening another bottle. The book says another three years, and I'm going by the book. You can use the wine box for refills. What are you all doing here anyway?" Her eyes rested on Ruth. "Shouldn't you be at school?"
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Ruth's been expelled," said Jack. "We're all wondering if she can live here with you and me until something more permanent is sorted out."
Sarah took another sip of her wine and eyed him thoughtfully. "You and me?" she queried silkily. "Does that mean you intend to inflict your company on me again?"
The dark face softened. "That rather depends, my angel."
"On whether or not I'm prepared to have you back?"
"No. On whether I come back on my terms or your terms."
"My terms," she said bluntly, "or not at all."
He gave a ghost of a smile. "Shame," he murmured.
Sarah held his gaze for a moment, then transferred her attention to Ruth. "So why were you expelled?"
Ruth, who had been staring at her hands since Sarah came in, flicked a sideways glance at Cooper. "The Sergeant knows. He can tell you."
"I'd rather hear it from you."
"I broke the school rules." She resumed her study of her hands.
"All of them or one in particular?"
"Leaving school without permission."
"Times haven't changed then. A friend of mine was expelled for sneaking down the fire escape and talking to some boys at the bottom of it. She was only caught because the rest of us were hanging out of the windows giggling. We were making such a row the housemistress heard us and expelled her on the spot. She's a barrister now. Rather a good one, too."
"I've been sleeping with someone," Ruth whispered, "and the headmistress said I was a bad influence on the others. She said I was immoral."
Sarah raised enquiring eyebrows at Cooper, who nodded. "Ah, well, perhaps times have changed, after all," she said matter-of-factly. "I can't imagine any of us having the courage to do anything so daring, not after we'd had it firmly dinned into us that a prospective husband could always tell if a girl wasn't a virgin." She gave a throaty chuckle. "We knew a great deal about love bites and the bruising effects of frantic French kissing, and absolutely nothing about anything else. We were convinced we'd turn green or break out in pustules if we let a man loose below the neckline. It came as something of a shock to discover we'd been sold a lie." She took another sip of her wine. "Was it worth getting expelled for?"
"No." A tear raa down the girl's face and on to the table. "I don't know what to do. I want to go to university."
"Surely the most sensible thing would be to go back to Cedar House and your mother. She'll have to find you another school." Why had Cooper brought her here anyway?
Or was it Jack who'd brought her?
Cooper rumbled into life. "Her boyfriend's liable to cut up rough, once I've had a word with him, and Cedar House will be the first place he goes looking. It's an imposition, I know, but off-hand I couldn't think of anywhere else, not after the way the school dealt with her." He looked quite put out. "She was told to pack a suitcase while they ordered a taxi to take her home, so I said, forget the taxi, I'll take her. I've never seen the like of it. You'd think she'd committed a hanging offence the way they carried on. And the worst of it was, they wouldn't have known anything about it if I hadn't persuaded her to tell them herself. I feel responsible, I really do, but then I thought they'd give her some credit for being honest and let her off with a caution. It's what I would have done."
"Does your mother know?" Sarah asked Ruth.
"Jack let me phone."
"Is she happy about you staying here?"
"I don't know. All she said was she'd heard from Miss Harris and then hung up. She sounded furious." Ruth kept her head down and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Sarah made a wry face at Jack. "You'll have to be the one to tell her then. I'm not exactly flavour of the month at the moment, and I can't see her being very pleased about it."
"I've already tried. She hung up on me too."
It was on the tip of Sarah's tongue to ask why, before she thought better of it. Knowing Jack, the answer would be as teasingly illusive as the answer to life itself. What puzzled her more was the speed with which events, like the ball in a pinball machine, had taken such an unpredictable course. This morning she'd had only another solitary weekend to look forward to-
and now
?
"Well, someone's got to tell her," she said irritably, isolating the one fact she could get to grips with. She looked at the Sergeant. "You'll have to do it. I'm quite happy for Ruth to stay but only if her mother knows where she is."
Cooper looked wretched. "Perhaps it would be better if we involved social services," he suggested, "asked a third party to intercede, as it were."
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "I'm an extremely amenable woman on the whole but I do resent my good nature being taken advantage of. There is no such thing as a free lunch, Sergeant, and I'd like to remind you that you have just drunk some very expensive St. Emilion of mine which, at a conservative estimate and allowing for inflation, costs well over seven pounds per glass. In other words, you owe me one, so you will not shuffle your responsibility and this child's future on to some overworked and underpaid social worker whose only solution to the problem will be to place her in a hostel full of disturbed adolescents."
Cooper's wretchedness grew.
"You have also, by underestimating the old-fashioned ethics that still exist within girls' boarding schools, caused a young woman approaching the most important exams of her life to be expelled. Now, in a world where the renting out of a woman's womb is still the only reliable method that men have discovered to replicate themselves, the very least they can do in return is to allow their women enough education to make the life sentence of child-rearing endurable. To sit and stare at an empty wall is one thing; to have the inner resources, the knowledge and the confidence to turn that wall into a source of endless stimulation is another. And that's ignoring the positive influence that educated and intelligent women have on succeeding generations. Ruth wants to go to university. To do so, she must pass her A levels. It is imperative that Joanna finds another school to accept her PDQ. Which means someone"-she cocked her finger at him-"namely
you
, must explain to her that Ruth is here, that she is here for a good reason, and that Joanna must come and talk it through before Ruth loses her opportunity to take her education as far as it can go." She turned her gaze on the girl. "And if you dare tell me now, Ruth, that you've given up on your future, then I'll put you through the first mangle I can find and, I promise you, the experience will not be a pleasant one."
There was a long silence.
Finally, Jack stirred. "Now you begin to see what Sarah's terms consist of. There's no allowing for human frailty. I grant you, there are pages of subtext and small print dealing with the awful imperfections that most of us suffer from-namely, inadequacy, lack of confidence, seeing both sides and sitting on fences-but they are grey areas which she treats with insufferable patience. And, take it from me, you allow her to do that at your peril. It undermines what little self-respect you have left." He beamed fondly at Cooper. "I sympathize with you, old son, but Sarah's right as usual. Someone's got to talk to Joanna and you're the one who's run up the most debts. After all, you
did
get Ruth expelled and you
did
drink a glass of wine that cost over seven quid."
Cooper shook his head. "I hope Miss Lascelles can put up with the pair of you. I know I couldn't. You'd have me climbing the walls before you could say knife."
The "pair" wasn't lost on Sarah. "How come you know so much more about my domestic arrangements than I do, Sergeant?" she asked casually.
He chuckled amiably, pushing himself to his feet. "Because I never say never, Doctor." He winked at her. "As someone once told me, life's a bugger. It creeps up behind you and gets you where you least expect it every time."
Sarah felt the girl start to tremble as she pushed open the door of the spare room and switched on the light. "What's the matter?" she asked.
"It's downstairs," she blurted out. "If Dave comes, he could get in."
"Not my choice. Geoffrey Freeling's. He turned the house upside down so that the reception rooms would have the best views. We're slowly turning it back again, but it takes time." She pushed open a communicating door. "It has its own bathroom." She glanced back at the girl, saw the pinched look to her face. "You're frightened, aren't you? Would you rather sleep upstairs in my room?"
Ruth burst into tears. "I'm so sorry," she wept. "I don't know what to do. Dave will kill me. I was all right at school. He couldn't have got in there."
Sarah put her arms about the other's thin shoulders and clasped them tightly. "Come upstairs," she said gently. "You'll be safe with me. Jack can sleep in here."
And serve the bastard right, she thought.
Ho, ho! For once, sod's law was on the side of the angels.
She had been toying with the ethics of medical castration but was prepared to compromise on a cold bed and a grovelling apology. It was a very partial compromise. She was so damn glad to have him back she felt like doing handsprings.

 

 

 

Joanna moved to the flat in London last week and for the first time since her abortive attempt at marriage I am in sole possession of Cedar House. It is a victory of sorts, but I have a sense of anticlimax. The game, I fear, was not worth the candle. I am lonely.
It occurs to me that in some strange way Joanna and I are necessary to each other. There is no denying the understanding that exists between us. We do not get along, of course, but that is largely irrelevant in view of the fact that we don't get along with anyone else either. There was some comfort in treading the mill of clicheed insults that trundled us quite happily through our lives, so worn and overused that what we said to each other passed largely unnoticed. I miss the little things. The way she pursued Spede about the garden, taking the wretched man to task if he missed a weed. Her waspish remarks about my cooking. And oddly enough, as they always used to irritate me at the time, her long, long silences. After all, perhaps companionship is less to do with conversation than with the comfort of another human presence, however self-centred that presence might be.
I have a terrible fear that, by pushing her out to fend for herself, I have diminished us both. At least, while we were together, we checked each other's worst excesses. And now? The road to hell is paved with good intentions...

 

 

 

*11*
It wasn't until late the following afternoon, a Saturday, that Sergeant Cooper felt he had enough information on Dave Hughes to make an approach viable. He was pessimistic about bringing charges of theft, but in respect of Mathilda's death there was some room for optimism. Ruth's mention of a white Ford transit had rung bells in his memory and a careful sifting of the statements taken in and around Fontwell in the days after the body was found had produced a gem. When asked if he'd seen anything unusual the previous Saturday, the landlord of the Three Pigeons, Mr. Henry Peel, had said:

 

I can't swear it had anything to do with Mrs. Gillespie, but there was a white Ford transit parked on my forecourt that Saturday afternoon and evening. Had a young lad in it, as far as I could judge. Stayed ten minutes the first time then drove off towards the church and picked someone up. I saw it again that evening. I pointed it out to my wife and said some wretch was using our forecourt but not using the pub. I can't give you the registration number.

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