The Twisted Way (25 page)

‘Can I help, Mrs Lacey?’ Robbie asked quietly. ‘No, I was just thinking of someone I knew in the past, an evacuee I think.’

He turned his sharp hazel eyes towards her. She still cares, he thought, but he would never reveal that he was the evacuee she cherished so long ago. A stubbornness gripped him and he made an abrupt and swift turn away from her. She had let him go and although he vowed to protect her now and had watched over her for about ten years in order to repay her, and her mother’s, earlier kindness, that was as far as he was willing to take the relationship. It did work both ways, of course, he loved his job in the garden and enjoyed helping as a handyman in the house. It was an incredible contrast to his academic career but he was happy. If she had to go into a home then he would take a well-earned retirement in the village he had come to love.

‘I’ll be off then Mrs Lacey. I hope you have a happy Christmas Eve with your friends. There should be enough holly to decorate the whole house now! I’m having Christmas lunch with an old friend from Oxford tomorrow but if you need me I’ll be in my cottage in the morning.’

His face felt strained and he turned away from the sight of the feeble old woman. He was looking forward to meeting Pat and two of his other friends in the Green Man that evening. They were going to play bridge, a game in which they had asked Robbie to join them recently and he thought that when he had improved his skill he would apply to become a member of the nearby Little Brinton Bridge Club. He had played rubber bridge for a short time when he was young with a colleague in Oxford so he had not been completely new to the game when Pat had suggested that he played with them. He studied a few books and learned with little effort so that he was now in a position to look forward to playing duplicate bridge in the club with his friends as they had recently suggested. It would be a challenge and he needed mental stimulus. Old Pat never tired of telling him that bridge is a good exercise for the elderly brain. Well, he would see.

Felicity supervised the drinks and nibbles for the Maces who were arriving at seven that evening. A cold supper, to be preceded by hot onion soup, had been set out in the dining room by Joyce. Felicity was annoyed because she had been instructed not to let the soup boil and she considered herself to be a good cook. The dining room was looking slightly like Father Christmas’s grotto, laden with red-berried holly and silver tinsel but Felicity was pleased with her efforts.

Joyce was almost glad that Felicity had come to stay with her aunt. For the past few years she had been worried about Janet staying on her own in Primrose House during the Christmas break except for the supper on Christmas Eve with the Mace family. Joyce always prepared food for Christmas Day and Boxing Day for Janet to cook and the kitchen fridge and freezer were always well stocked, but Janet was now finding that arrangement difficult and Joyce knew it would not be long before her employer would have to go into a nursing home. In the past Robbie had also agreed to call and see if Janet was all right over the holiday and hadn’t gone to see old friends in Oxford, which he would have enjoyed. Joyce had returned to Primrose House each day to wash up dishes and see that all was well and she had to admit that she was now looking forward to spending Christmas with her family and not having to worry about Janet, although she could not quite dispel the feeling of unease she had about Felicity. She still did not like the woman. Janet had spent Christmas with her school colleagues for a few years after John Lacey died but the majority were now occupied with their families, including numerous grandchildren or great grandchildren, or were too old to bother any more.

Felicity lit the candles in the dining room a few minutes before the guests arrived. She ran her hands down her new ruby-coloured velvet dress with pleasure and checked the clasp on her shimmering fine pearl necklace – the real thing, no imitation pearls for Felicity. Cost an arm and a leg she chuckled to herself but old Auntie’s credit card had proved useful once again. She had permission from Auntie and the bank now to sign cheques for her.

‘It will make things easier, Auntie,’ she had wheedled until the arrangement had been agreed.

Janet’s financial adviser had called to see her one day a few weeks before Christmas and had expressed some unease about the plan but his fears had been dismissed by Janet who said she was grateful for the help her niece was giving her.

‘It’s only money after all,’ she said. ‘It makes her happy to pay the bills and I am happy that she is able to buy a few baubles for herself at the same time.’

‘A few baubles ...’ the financial adviser mumbled. ‘Is that what they are? It’s more like fraud.’

The doorbell rang and Felicity put on a pleasant countenance, at least as pleasant as she could manage, to welcome the guests. She greeted Jeremy and Matthew with an almost grudging expression in spite of her efforts, led them into the lounge and poured them a glass of Auntie’s best sherry. This could be her chance to pump them about Auntie’s will. She had a good supply of red and white wine to hand, obtained from Janet’s wine store in the garage, together with a variety of strong liquors to follow. She assumed that they would walk home to Jasmine Cottage where they lived in the centre of the village, in any case she had not heard their car arrive. Her plan was to make them tipsy so that they would talk rashly about Auntie’s affairs.

Jeremy was a good-looking man for his sixty years. His hair was almost white but quite thick and his blue-grey oddly flecked eyes were still alert. His greatest weakness was that, although he still possessed a good and clever brain, he was a lazy man and too fond of his ‘booze’ as he put it, whisky and vodka being his favourites. He often cut corners which had backfired on him a few times during his career. He had spent money without enough thought and amassed some large and needless gambling debts. Matthew was working hard in an effort to put things in order but a legacy from Janet would be appreciated. Jeremy could not remember for a moment whether the Mace family had been included in her latest will. He believed so, yes of course they had, but he would press for a codicil to be added in their favour and to ensure their share was increased before she became completely gaga. He would talk to Matthew about that some time but he was pretty certain that they had been left a reasonable amount of money. She was a wealthy woman and a little more cash for the Mace family would not go amiss. The chairs she had promised them would not go far towards paying off the firm’s creditors, valuable as they might prove to be in an auction. Despite his grief following the death of his father and his absence this year from the usual Christmas festivities, he looked forward to one of Joyce Skillet’s excellent suppers and hoped it would be as delicious as it had been in the past.

Matthew was an attractive man in his late thirties and consequently a great asset to the family business. Women adored him, though he was adept at keeping them at a distance, and many looked upon him as a possible future husband. He appeared to be not only an eligible bachelor but efficient and astute in the office. Matthew was suspicious about Felicity’s role in her aunt’s life but he was careful not to let her know that. He had a deep rumbling voice. Hmm, Felicity thought, he is not a bad looking man and has a lovely deep voice like a bull trying to attract a mate. What a pity he is in my way. He is far too young for me, a veritable toyboy, but I would not mind getting him between my sheets before I am forced to dispose of him. Prickles crept down her plump wrinkled arms.

Matthew would have been horrified if he had been able to read her thoughts. He looked at Felicity with extreme distaste. Her face reminded him of a tapir, her nose curved slightly downwards and he thought that even vinegar would not scorch her mouth. She was an ugly looking old bird and looked just like a gaudy old pheasant in that velvet dress. Mutton dressed up as lamb seemed an appropriate phrase to describe her.

They enjoyed the meal and the excellent Australian red and white wines Felicity had found for the occasion. She filled her guests’ glasses to the brim as often as she could but although Jeremy drank his at disgusting speed, gulping and spluttering, stamping himself as the alcoholic he was, to her annoyance Matthew only sipped his. He was determined to keep a clear head. Concerned that her plan to get him drunk was not working she pushed her thin lips into a pout and gripped her wineglass with a fierceness that caused her knuckles to look like white knobs. The well-devised plan was failing and even her appetite diminished.

Jeremy, like Peter before him, ran thin well-manicured fingers down the sides of the velvet dining chairs. Charming, elegant pieces he thought. They will soon be ours. They have such skilfully carved legs ... quite unusual.

The gesture was not lost upon Felicity. ‘You seem to like those chairs,’ she said, her Canadian drawl coming to the fore.

‘Um, nice pieces,’ Jeremy said with feigned disinterest and they finished the rest of the meal in thoughtful silence.

The party moved to the lounge to enjoy the liquors and chocolates placed there by Felicity in an obvious and tempting way. Auntie nodded in her chair and was soon fast asleep. She had drunk too much wine.

‘Has my aunt left those chairs to anyone in her will?’ Felicity asked, opening her eyes wider as she assumed an innocent expression. ‘I guess she has made a will, I do not ask her about such things, of course.’

‘I have no idea,’ Matthew and Jeremy chorused. They are guilty, Felicity thought, they are too evasive. ‘There is a will, of course,’ Jeremy continued in a slurred voice. The good wine and cherry brandy was taking over his weakened body. ‘The original is kept in our safe room in the office though Mrs Lacey will have a copy somewhere I believe. It is a confidential matter, we cannot discuss it, Felicity.’

He had gulped the wine and brandy down during the meal as though he had a raging thirst, which he had, eyes sparkling and mouth slobbering with alcoholic greed.

‘Of course,’ said Felicity brightly. She was getting nowhere. She would have to try a different way to find out if the will she had found was the latest.

‘I seem to remember a will was made in the nineteen eighties,’ Matthew said with a calmness he did not feel. ‘That’s all I can tell you. You must ask your Aunt Janet about it. As I have already made clear, we cannot disclose confidential matters.’ His voice had become abrupt and hard.

He knew that Janet would not remember much about any wills and that he could play games with the avaricious niece. Indeed he was quite enjoying himself. Greedy objectionable old hag, he turned over in his mind, but the woman is not a bad hostess he had to admit. He took his third chocolate mint, chewed it with obvious pleasure, sipped his cup of good percolated coffee and wiped his mouth with a napkin from which Father Christmas, who was weighed down with a sack of toys on his back, leered through a straggly white beard. Felicity had bought the garish napkins in Brinton in what she called the ‘cheap shop’ where nothing cost more than one pound. Good enough for them, she had told herself at the time.

Janet stirred in her sleep and sighed deep and long. ‘Time for bed dear,’ Felicity said. ‘It’s almost ten o’clock. Amy will be here soon to help you get undressed and tuck you in.’ Amy, a rather stocky young woman from the village, was due to appear at any moment to help Janet undress. Amy was paid well for her services and had for the past few months or so been pleased to help out when asked. Felicity decided that she was much more proficient than the dippy Lily.

‘Can’t you help her get into bed?’ said Jeremy, who was the worse for drink, indeed his head felt quite muzzy. ‘Does she really need Amy? It’s a waste of money,’ he continued in a foolish and rash tone.

Felicity’s eyes flashed. They appeared wild and stormy, awash with grey waves, almost manic. She turned a calculated and spiteful gaze on Jeremy but he was past caring. Matthew, however, stiffened. She was dangerous and reminded him of a wounded tigress. They would have to be careful when dealing with this woman. She found him attractive, that much was clear to him, and perhaps he could use that to his advantage though he certainly did not want to get close to her, or indeed any woman. He preferred the male sex but had not come out. It would upset his father and some of his female clients and it would achieve very little. He could wait.

‘Of course,’ Matthew said quickly, in an attempt to smooth the troubled waters, ‘you need help with your aunt. It must be very difficult for you. She is so lucky to have you here now. We really must go home. My father is overtired and has had too much to drink. It was a lovely supper.’

He glanced at her provocatively under his long pale blond lashes and she, as he had intended, softened.

‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ he asked in patronizing tones, hoping that there was not.

‘No,’ Felicity said in a sharp high-pitched voice. ‘I can manage!’ and the Maces left after a feeble attempt to say goodnight to Janet who was by that time exhausted and confused. She was uttering odd snoring snorts and snuffles and Felicity felt sick.

Matthew said he would call the next day to see if Janet was all right. Felicity hoped he would not, despite the physical attraction she felt for him, but thanked him for his concern. They wished each other a happy Christmas in a stiff and forced manner. Felicity shut the front door after they had gone and heaved a sigh of relief. That is one family that will not be coming here when I am mistress she vowed. She hoped and prayed that the good Amy would arrive soon and remove the slumbering and slobbering Janet from her sight.

A plan was forming swiftly in her twisted corkscrew mind though whether she would have the courage to follow it through she did not know.

‘One down, two to go,’ she chanted softly to herself, as she clenched her fists.

Christmas faded into the past and life in Primrose House settled down into a familiar and comfortable routine though Joyce Skillet watched Felicity like a hawk. Her dislike for Felicity grew as the days passed but she acknowledged the fact that the woman was in many ways a good companion for her aunt. ‘The creature’, as Joyce had dubbed Felicity, had apparently endeared herself to Janet who now liked having the woman around her, a fact which amazed both Joyce and Robbie.