The Wonder Worker (76 page)

III

I suffered a second of total confusion. Francie was supposed to be “on ice” until Monday, entirely preoccupied with the husband who had just returned from his business trip to Hong Kong. Driven by an appalled curiosity and an acute concern for Nicholas I peeped out into the hall.

Francie had streamed over the threshold and was about to enter the study. She was wearing a smart black coat but as I watched she shed this onto the nearest chair and revealed a tight V-necked red sweater and a shiny black leather skirt. Her breasts, shoved high by some amazing push-up bra, were looking as if they couldn’t wait to jump out of both the bra and the V-neck. She was clacking along in high-heeled glossy boots and looked like a bad actress playing a Hollywood hooker.

Nicholas glanced across the hall and motioned me to join them. I glided forward, pausing only when I reached the threshold of the study.

“… and of course I just had to come the moment I heard the news,” Francie was saying. “Stacy! Suicide! My dear, I was shattered!”

“How did you hear about it?”

“Rosalind phoned just now.”

I saw Nicholas’s left hand clench shut as he realised he had forgotten to warn Rosalind of her best friend’s duplicity.

“—and Rosalind was gutted, darling, simply gutted. She rang to beg me to say nothing to anyone about—why, Alice! What are you doing, loitering in the doorway like that? Anyone would think you were trying to eavesdrop!”

“Alice doesn’t need to eavesdrop,” said Nicholas evenly. “She knows everything there is to know about this situation, and she came with me this morning when I went to Butterfold to tell Rosalind about Stacy.”

“Really? But how odd.” Francie’s head turned slowly as she gave me another look. Her eyes were glittery, febrile, mad. As my scalp prickled I instinctively stepped across the threshold in order to be closer to Nicholas.

“What else did Rosalind tell you?” Nicholas was asking, and although he kept his voice calm I knew he was afraid that Rosalind, in her shock, had admitted far too much.

“Oh, we didn’t talk for long because she was so upset—my dear,
she even accused me of trying to egg her on when she decided to seduce Stacy! As if I’d ever do such a wicked thing! But of course I forgave her because she was crucified with guilt, poor darling, and not thinking clearly.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“She said she’d bedded Stacy—well, I told you she was planning to do that, didn’t I? I told you last night in the Abbey!”

“I remember, yes. Did she say anything else?”

“Oh, she said he was impotent, which I must say was hardly a huge surprise, but that explains the tragedy, doesn’t it, because obviously he killed himself out of frustration and remorse and the whole disaster was Rosalind’s fault. Honestly, Nick, I hate to say this, as she’s my oldest and dearest friend, but the sooner you’re shot of that woman the better.”

“And that was all she said?” Nicholas obviously wanted to make sure that Rosalind, focusing on the seduction, had never mentioned the possibility that Stacy had been infected with HIV. It would be one less detail to worry about at the inquest.

“What else was there to say? Oh, you mean did she talk of divorce—no, she didn’t, but since she’d put her wicked plan into operation, there was nothing more to add, was there? Obviously she’s still gasping to be rid of you, but don’t worry, darling, because I’m now poised to take over. I’ve just put my own utterly brilliant plan into operation!”

Five terrible seconds passed before Nicholas was able to say: “What plan?”

“
My
plan! My own utterly secret, utterly inspired, utterly stupendous plan which I’ve been working on for months and months! I—” She broke off as she became aware of my presence again. “Oh Alice dear, do run along, there’s a good girl! I really must talk to Nick on his own now!”

“Humour me, Francie,” said Nicholas lightly, signalling me to stay. Obviously the last thing he wanted was a scene with no witness. “Alice is in my confidence, as I’ve already explained, and I’d like her to be present. You don’t really mind, do you? After all, Alice is one of your most devoted admirers—she always says she’ll never forget how kind you were to her after her aunt died.”

Francie preened herself. Pride streamed forth from her in a swirling black tide. “I was wonderful, wasn’t I?”

“Wonderful!” I said at once, picking up the cue that she was to be
flattered but glad I was still able to speak the truth. “I was so grateful, Francie.”

“Poor Alice! Very well, I shall be as kind to you as Nick is—darling Nick, trying to include you in everything in order to make you feel useful! So sweet of him!”

Nicholas edged casually to the right in order to put the table between them. The study had four focal points. If one stood in the doorway, the small round table stacked with papers and books lay straight ahead in the middle of the room; to the left was the window which overlooked Egg Street; to the right was the fireplace, and on the far wall, beyond the table, was the desk with the crucifix hanging above it. At that moment the three of us were forming a distorted triangle. I was hovering between the door and the fireplace, Francie was standing with her back to the window, and Nicholas, shifting around by the table, was veering towards his desk.

Idly he said to Francie: “So what’s all this about an inspired plan?”

“My dear, I’ve been so clever and no one’s suspected a thing! I did think for one frightful moment that Lewis suspected during our conversation at the Rectory last Monday night—he asked why I had always confided in
both
of you about Harry’s violence—but no, it was all right, I soon realised he hadn’t a clue what was going on. Of course I shouldn’t have gone to the Rectory at all that night, but I simply couldn’t contain myself any longer! And with Harry away and Lewis under doctor’s orders to go to bed early, I thought I’d be absolutely safe if I arrived at ten-thirty, but—”

“It was bad luck I was away that night. But Francie, tell me now what you didn’t tell Lewis. Why did you, in fact, confide in both of us about Harry’s behaviour?”

“Because once the police found out that you and I intended to marry, your evidence would be suspect.”

There was a pause before Nicholas said colourlessly: “Evidence?”

“Yes, although you had to know how unbearable my marriage was—although you had to know I was available for you to love—I needed another witness, an impartial witness that I was being driven beyond endurance.”

I saw the muscles harden in Nicholas’s face as he struggled to keep his expression neutral. He said: “I’m not sure I understand you.” But I knew he did. I thought I did too, but I didn’t want to. I was aware of my heart thumping unnaturally fast.

“Well, you see, it was like this,” said Francie cosily, leather skirt
riding up over her plump black-stockinged thighs as she sat down on the window-seat. “I’ve known for a long time that we were made for each other, and I realised right away that the real problem was not that you were married; I was sure I would eventually get the chance to show you that your marriage was a sham—and it
was
a sham, wasn’t it? You and Rosalind spent most of the time apart.”

“And once I was divorced—”

“Divorce would produce a tricky situation, I realised that, but I knew you’d be all right if Rosalind was the guilty party and you went through the motions of trying to save the marriage—you’d win everyone’s sympathy, even the stodgiest of the trustees. However, the
really
tricky phase would be when—”

“—remarriage was on the cards.”

“Exactly! I knew the trustees and a lot of other people wouldn’t approve of you marrying a divorcée. But if you were to marry a blameless widow whose husband had horribly wronged her …” She smiled at him roguishly as she allowed the sentence to fade away.

Nicholas’s pallor now had a greyish tinge. I found I had backed away until I was leaning against the doorframe. I felt I might pass out.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling!” exclaimed Francie, springing to her feet again as she at last sensed his horror. “I’d never do anything which would jeopardize your ministry here, and that’s why I decided from the start that I had to be a widow instead of a divorcée! Of course it’ll be a teeny bit awkward when the police arrest me, but I’ll be the wronged heroine, won’t I—the good Christian woman vilely brutalized by her wicked atheist husband—and everyone will want to drench me in sympathy and forgiveness and understanding, not least the judge and jury! After all, I’ve been so brilliantly plausible! How skilfully I’ve built up my chilling portrait of a marital monster! How cleverly I’ve played the role of the battered wife! Well, I would, wouldn’t I? I’ve heard it all so many times before during my years as a Befriender, and so I was able to put my experience to the best possible use! I was amazing!”

Nicholas somehow managed to say: “Amazing. So when did you decide the time was finally right to—”

“Kill Harry? Well, I originally planned to do it in the new year after the children had gone back to school—I didn’t want to spoil their Christmas—but as soon as I had lunch with Rosalind this week I knew I had to act without delay. After all, she was rejecting you—
you’d need me! So when Harry woke up jet-lagged this morning after that long flight home from Hong Kong … Well, it was all so simple. He was sitting at the kitchen table in a bleary-eyed stupor as I was in the middle of preparing lunch—which made things so much easier, because I already had a knife in my hand. I came up behind him and I stabbed him and stabbed him and stabbed him. Actually I think I cut his throat. I can’t quite remember. (That bit was rather traumatic.) Anyway when he was dead I changed into clean clothes and came straight over here. I didn’t bother to call the police—they can wait because it’s an open-and-shut case, nothing much for them to do, and with the right counsel I know I can get off scot-free. Must have the right counsel, though—a QC—the best money can buy—but that’s all right, I’ll have plenty of money now Harry’s dead … Alice dear, why are you looking at me like that? In fact why are you here at all? You should have gone back to the kitchen, you know, instead of lingering on out of curiosity. Curiosity,” said Francie sadly, “killed the cat. Did no one ever teach you that when you were little?”

I felt as if I were welded to the doorframe. Something had happened to my lungs. I could barely breathe.

“Never mind Alice for the moment, Francie,” said Nicholas, murdering the pause so swiftly that it was almost stillborn. “Tell me how you feel now about Harry.”

Francie was immediately diverted. Having advanced several paces towards me she now turned back to him and began to move around the table to his side, but Nicholas didn’t wait for her. He too was on the move, keeping the table between them. For a moment he was close to me and I felt safe, but as Francie continued to advance he moved on. When she finally stopped she had her back to the fireplace, he was standing opposite her with his back to the window and nothing separated her from me except a few feet of polished floorboards.

But Francie had temporarily forgotten me. “I feel pure joy!” she was declaring exuberantly. “I can’t tell you how much I hated that man! He was always so horrible to me, but I’ve triumphed over him in the end, haven’t I? Vengeance is mine, said the Devil, I will repay!”

I shuddered as I heard the famous quotation perverted, but Nicholas just said: “You’ve certainly shown great ingenuity, Francie.” I saw him edge fractionally closer to his desk again even though she herself was no longer moving. Casually he added: “But I’m troubled by the haziness of your memory. Are you sure he was dead when you left?”

“There was blood all over the kitchen table! But darling, I knew you might find it hard to believe I’d been quite so resolute and brave, so I’ve brought the proof with me.” Hurrying to the handbag which she had abandoned on the window-seat she whipped out a nine-inch-long butcher’s knife, its blade dark with gore. “Here you are!” she said gaily to Nicholas. “Take it! I don’t need it any more … or do I?” She paused, her brow furrowed in thought, the knife still clasped daintily between her thumb and forefinger. “Darling, it’s just occurred to me—what are we going to do about Alice? She wasn’t part of my plan at all.”

“Why don’t we take a moment to discuss that in private?” said Nicholas at once. “Alice, go to the bedsit, would you, and tell Lewis that lunch will be a little late today.”

I knew I was being told to phone the police, but before I could escape Francie altered her clasp on the knife and ordered me to stay where I was. “There’s something here I need to sort out,” she said, brow still furrowed, right hand now wrapped around the knife’s handle so tightly that the knife seemed to be growing out of her fist. “Alice dear—” She took a step towards me. I tried to move but my legs wouldn’t work. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nicholas reach his desk but I couldn’t think why he wanted to be there. He and I were now on opposite sides of the room but Francie was almost within lunging distance of me and the knife was still thrusting obscenely from her palm.

“Of course I know you’re in love with him,” she was musing, “but why is he suddenly taking you everywhere with him and insisting that you’re present at even the most private of conversations?”

A voice said: “I’ve no idea.” It was my voice but I failed to recognise it. I suddenly saw that over by the desk Nicholas was unhooking his crucifix from the wall.

“Rosalind warned me about you!” said Francie sharply. “I remember now—she said there was something odd going on, but let me tell you this: if you think you can get him you’re wrong.” With a shock I realised that her voice too had become almost unrecognisable. I felt as if the scene had suddenly shifted into a different gear. “I’m getting him, I’m having him, he’s mine!” Her eyes were now like black holes. Her face was skull-like. The familiar bone-structure was dissolving into an alien mask. She was breathing hard through her bared teeth in a steady, rhythmic hiss.

“Francie!” said Nicholas loudly, but she took no notice. She had
begun to raise the knife. “Francie, look at me! Francie,
in the name of Jesus Christ
—”