The Watchful Eye (19 page)

Daniel felt compelled to defend himself. ‘Look, Brian,’ he
said in a vain attempt at friendliness, ‘you’ve got the wrong impression here. Claudine and I…’ He glanced at her. Her eyes were still wide open, her mouth tense and unhappy. He couldn’t do any good by trying to reason with Anderton. ‘Well you’ve just got the wrong impression. Come on…’ He put a hand on the policeman’s shoulder. ‘Our daughters are friends. There isn’t anything wrong in that.’ He felt uncomfortable at the policeman’s frozen stare. ‘I’m hoping that Holly will be moving up here permanently.’

But Brian was staring right through him. The confidence hadn’t thawed him at all.

Daniel knew he simply wasn’t listening. He shrugged, gave an apologetic smile at Claudine and Bethan and walked on.

Ten steps later he turned and looked back.

Brian Anderton was still staring after him.

Daniel felt a pricking of anxiety. He had seen that identical stare once before. It had been when he had been studying psychiatry. He had worked for a few months in a secure psychiatric unit where some of the worst cases of violent and unstable mental illness were housed. One evening an inmate had been staring at another patient with the same, identical look that Brian was giving him now. Seconds later the patient had sprung at the man, trying to tear his throat out. Even now Daniel shivered when he thought of it, prising fingernails out of flesh, a swift spurting of blood, the animal snarling. The alarm bells had sounded, five strong male nurses summoned and they had needed all their strength to tear the man away from his victim.

Days later, when the sedation had been starting to wear off, it had been Daniel’s job to interview the patient, whose name was Mark Shilling, and try to ascertain what had provoked
the attack. Shilling had looked puzzled, almost confused at the question, but he had thought about it before giving what to him was a rational explanation. ‘He just wouldn’t stop sniffing,’ he said. ‘It was getting on my nerves.’

Daniel had nodded, shocked at this glimpse into a volatile mind.

So now he quickened his step away from Anderton trying to reason with himself. What was he saying? That the town’s policeman had an unstable mind? As diseased as someone who needed to be locked up for their behaviour?

He reached home and pushed open the front door.

The house seemed empty without either Holly or his mother. It took a while to readjust to the silence that greeted his return home from work. The corridor seemed longer, narrower and darker. He went into the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was that his answerphone was flashing out two messages – the first was from Marie Westbrook. ‘Daniel,’ her tone was wheedling, coaxing, ‘I expect Holly and your mother have left and you’re on your own again. I’m on
my
own; you’re on
your
own. Why not give me a ring and we’ll have a drink together?’ She rapped out her mobile number – twice.

He flicked on to the next message. It was from his mother. ‘Daniel, dear. Just to let you know, I’ve left Holly with Elaine. I must say she looks well on all this, knee-deep in wedding plans. I’m sure I don’t understand her. The man she’s marrying is—’ Daniel pressed delete. He didn’t really want to hear about Elaine’s new man. It wasn’t that he still cared about her. He didn’t, but the very subject of her ‘knee-deep in wedding plans’ simply bored him.

He settled down for the evening, searched the Internet dating website but saw nothing he could be bothered with, channel-hopped the television for an hour or two and went to bed early. At eleven o’clock his telephone rang. He stretched
out his hand then withdrew it. He couldn’t face fending off either his mother or Marie right now. Ten minutes later he was asleep.

It was almost two weeks later that Vanda Struel turned up in his surgery, proudly brandishing a miniature Bell’s whisky bottle containing a urine sample. He looked at it with something approaching distaste.

She was almost beseeching him to be pleased for her. ‘I’ve got a new bloke,’ she said. ‘He’s really nice. Good to me and all that. We’re gettin’ on really well.’ Her eyes still met his with that hopeful expression. ‘We’d like a kid of our own.’ Her gaze dropped to the whisky bottle.

He asked her when her last period had been, then offered to get the nurse to test it, aware that he was unable to share in her enthusiasm. Marie was grumpy when he handed her the bell-shaped bottle. She practically snatched it from him without a word. He watched her perform the test awkwardly, hardly registering surprise when the line turned blue. What did this mean? he wondered. Another child to be harmed at its mother’s will? He felt suddenly impotent to prevent it. What could he do? I could counsel her, he thought, take the line of,
Are you ready for another child so soon after
…?

Marie was watching him. ‘It was only a friendly gesture,’ she said sharply. ‘There was no need for you to ignore it.’

He struggled to understand and returned her stare blankly.

‘Don’t you ever pick up your phone messages?’

‘Not always,’ he said and left it at that.

He was just leaving the room when she asked softly. ‘What do I have to do, Daniel? Go down on my knees?’

He couldn’t answer her – not truthfully – so he avoided saying anything, whisked through the door and back along the corridor to where Vanda Struel was waiting.

‘Well?’ she demanded.

‘It’s positive,’ he said, knowing that this was both a momentous and monstrous statement.

She jumped up. ‘Fantastic,’ she said beaming. ‘Guy’ll be over the moon. He’d love a little boy.’ There was no mention, no memory, no regret for Anna-Louise.

Claudine was picking up a few things from the supermarket.

‘Hello, Mrs Anderton. Nice morning.’

Claudine focused on the gangly youth who frequently served her at the Co-op store. She gave him one of her wide, friendly smiles. ‘Hello, Guy,’ she responded. ‘How are you today?’

‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’m well.’

‘Good.’

She was aware that he was anxious to engage her in some sort of conversation, however banal.

‘How’s Bethan?’

‘Oh – Bethan’s very well too, Guy. She’s looking forward to spending some time in France next month with my family.’

‘Oh. Is the Constable going too?’

Claudine’s eyes flickered. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We have decided it would be a good idea if…’ She started again. ‘Brian does not have any time off.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Shame.’

‘Yes.’ She passed some of her groceries across to him. ‘It is a great shame but it’ll be good for Bethan’s French to be with my mother. I am anxious for her to learn the language
and my mother speaks very little English.’

‘’Course,’ he agreed.

He was staring at her rather stupidly, she thought, and handed him a litre bottle of milk.

‘I think I’m going to be a dad.’

She looked up, startled. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Congratulations.’ She couldn’t think what else to say.
Who is the mother,
would have seemed inappropriate but she couldn’t remember ever seeing him with a woman. He had always been alone.
A loner,
she thought.

There was a brief, awkward silence. She was aware that Guy was watching her expectantly. She smiled at him and at last he started scanning in her shopping.

Elaine and his mother must have worked something out between them. It was his mother who rang him late one Monday evening towards the end of June. ‘Daniel,’ she said in her usual abrupt, businesslike way, ‘I have a proposal.’

He was instantly on his guard.

She continued regardless. ‘Elaine finds the school holidays difficult,’ she said. ‘Her mother has a busy social life and helps in the Red Cross charity shop in Worcester three times a week.’ She described Daniel’s ex-mother-in-law with more than a hint of disapproval.

‘So Elaine and I have had a little chat.’

Daniel waited.

‘She’s willing to let Holly stay with you for the entire duration of the summer holidays, right up until her wedding in September, provided
I
am around to care for Holly while
you
are at work.’ Without allowing him to speak she
continued. ‘Needless to say I have discussed this with Holly and she is completely thrilled at the idea. I imagine that you had contemplated having some sort of summer holiday with her, in which case I shall return home during that period to check up that all is well at my own house. Well, Daniel?’

She didn’t exactly give him much time to think about it but the more he did the more he liked the idea. ‘If you’re happy with the idea, mother.’

‘Of course I am, dear boy,’ she said kindly, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t even have brought it up. Now then…’

She went on to discuss arrangements. She would finalise everything with Elaine, which suited Daniel. He didn’t even have to talk to the witch. And another bonus that had occurred to him, even as his mother had been speaking, was that having his mother and daughter stay for the summer gave him the perfect excuse to fend off Marie’s advances.

On the third of July Snape rang him to inform him that probate was almost settled, the niece had accepted the £100,000 out-of-court settlement and that he should be able to take possession of Applegate Cottage some time in September. With an eye to drumming up a bit of extra business, he asked where Daniel was intending on living and, when Daniel said that he wanted to move to Applegate Cottage, he suggested Daniel put The Yellow House on the market. But that wasn’t what Daniel had planned. He’d decided he wanted to make the cottage absolutely perfect before he and, hopefully, Holly moved in. He asked Snape if he could have the keys and inspect the place. He wanted to look around on his own and decide what he needed to do to it.

Snape reluctantly agreed to let him have the keys and Daniel finally visited Applegate Cottage on the eleventh of July, the day before Holly and his mother were due to arrive. It was much as he remembered, except a little smaller, a little darker and very obviously the house of an old woman. Everything in the place was old-fashioned and neglected. It smelt fusty and very slightly damp with a background of lavender and the cloying scent of mothballs. Pieces of Maud Allen’s furniture were still there, heavy, old-fashioned items that seemed too big for the house. He must ask Snape what should be done with them. They were, he assumed, what the niece did not want. Other items had left marks on the carpet where they had lived for years and no longer did – the small square patch where a grandfather clock had stood, four marks where the feet of a card table had been, a few pale patches on the walls where pictures had hung for years. He opened the french windows with difficulty; the key was stiff and the door swollen with damp. They opened straight out into a small paved area set with a rusty table and four chairs and beyond that the wicket gate, which opened out into the paddock. The sound of birdsong greeted him as he stepped outside and, if he half closed his eyes, he could picture the pony grazing in the field. He closed the doors behind him and went upstairs.

There were numerous small rooms, one with a heavy bed which, he assumed, had been where Maud Allen had finally died. It seemed the niece did not want this either. He stood at the bottom for a while, feeling confused about the old woman’s final deed. What had been in her mind? he wondered. Panic? Unhappiness or an acceptance that this was her ultimate act? He glanced out through the window, saw the trees in the orchard and felt a sense of quiet, dignified peace permeate the
room. That, he decided, had been her state of mind. She had come to the end of a good life and had wanted to bow out in her own time. He wandered back out onto the landing. The upstairs was bigger than he had remembered. There were three good bedrooms and a decent-sized bathroom and, with a small amount of building work, it would be easy to put in a second shower room, an en suite for him and one for Holly.

He went back downstairs. The kitchen was large but old-fashioned; it had an Aga and another set of french windows which opened straight out onto a second patio. Mossy crazy paving and some pots holding leggy geraniums and a few self-planted weeds. He eyed the kitchen. With some units fitted it could be made very homely. There was easily room for a sizeable dining table, which meant that the second room downstairs could be used as a study.

The house was structurally sound, he’d noted as he’d made his tour – a few window frames were rotten and there was a damp patch in the hall but there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a good builder. £50-60,000 should fix it, he decided, which would leave him well in pocket.

He was just beginning to feel smug when a grey Toyota pulled up outside and a stout, middle-aged woman climbed out stiffly. She glared through the window at him and his heart sank. He’d hoped he would never actually need to meet the niece.

She stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘So you’re Doctor Gregory,’ she said sharply.

He didn’t even attempt to smile.

‘I suppose you’ve come to gloat over your acquisition.’

‘Look,’ he tried to explain, ‘I’m as sad as you are over your
aunt’s death. I liked her. I did the best I could. You’ll have your £100,000,’ he added.

‘Oh, thank you,’ she said with heavy and bitter sarcasm. ‘You’ve done very well out of your mistaken diagnosis, haven’t you, Doctor? Well, you don’t mind, I assume, if I collect a few things she left me?’

He shook his head. ‘Help yourself,’ he said, waving her on. ‘Please.’

She flounced past him and disappeared into the house. He drove off with a nasty taste in his mouth. He wished his good fortune had come in some other way.

His mother’s plan was put into practice. She and Holly moved into The Yellow House in the middle of July, as soon as Holly’s school had broken up for the summer, and Daniel readjusted to having the two females living with him. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed it, having two women fussing over him – patronising him even. Holly and her grandmother seemed to almost conspire against him and he often caught them exchanging amused glances across the meal table when he’d said something they found funny or ‘typically male’. The house quickly took on a different air. It was bright, noisy, lively and very happy. He took them to see Applegate Cottage one afternoon and revelled in watching Holly scampering through the orchard, chattering to her imaginary pony, galloping, trotting and finally sedately walking. He even went so far as to take her to the riding school, book her in for lessons and make tentative enquiries about a small, Welsh pony which seemed docile and well behaved. He showed Holly the room that would be hers and arranged to meet a builder at the property. He invited Reeds Rains, the local
estate agent, to value The Yellow House, basked in their praise for the property, its position and condition and was pleased when they valued it at £595,000 – well over the price he had expected.

‘You may have to accept less,’ they warned him, ‘if you want a quick sale, but Eccleston is a very desirable area. Near to the M6, yet it’s retained its air of an elegant, Georgian coaching town.’

He assured them he was in no great hurry to sell, which they countered by telling him that putting a property on the market took some time. There were brochures to be printed and approved, advertising to be organised and so on, and they sent someone round to measure the rooms and take photographs. In this, too, Holly and his mother took great pride, cleaning the rooms, tidying up and artistically arranging vases of flowers, placing fresh towels in the bathrooms and removing the weeds from the garden that the gardener had missed.

It was a busy summer and Daniel hardly thought about Claudine. Holly didn’t mention her friend and he barely saw either of them. Once he saw Claudine walking up the High Street gripping Bethan by the hand. He gave a little pip on his horn but if she saw him she did not respond or look up and even Bethan seemed to scuttle away, quickening her pace. Luckily Holly hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t sure he could have explained to his daughter why her new friend, who had seemed so sweet, had suddenly decided not to acknowledge her.

In August, Guy Malkin served him in the supermarket, which had now relocated to its new position behind the police station, and informed him that Mrs Anderton had
taken Bethan to France for the month. Daniel simply nodded as though it was just another piece of town news.