Thicker Than Water (23 page)

‘Eight thirty it is. Synchronize watches, everyone.’

Abby looked blank, and Jilly showed her what to do. Then, hugging their secret, they returned to the house.

Jack’s last job on a Tuesday afternoon was to wash Beth’s car, a task Bryan enjoyed helping with. She always left it on the drive for them, and when they’d finished, Jack would garage it and, if no one was about, drop the keys through the letter box.

‘It’s been playing up a bit, Jack,’ she’d said earlier. ‘Perhaps you’d have a look at it, and see if you can spot the trouble.’

He and Bryan were hosing the car down when Mr Sheridan drove past, straight into the open garage.

Jack checked his watch. Barely five-forty, which meant he’d left work early again. Bastard! he thought. His mood had not improved during the day, and when he saw Sheridan walking purposefully towards him, he could feel anger building up inside him.

‘Spencer,’ the man began imperiously, when still several feet away, ‘I thought I told you I wanted chrysanthemums in that far bed?’

Jack gritted his teeth. ‘We never have chrysanths in the garden, sir,’ he muttered.

‘I’m not interested in what you’ve done in the past. I specifically asked you to get some, and since you’ve deliberately ignored me, I’ll see your pay’s docked this week.’

Jack dropped the hose, and water spurted over Harold’s trousers and shoes, causing him to jump back with an expletive.

‘I’ve had enough o’ this!’ Jack declared, his voice shaking. ‘Ever since you come ’ere, you’ve done nowt but criticize – “do that”, “don’t do that”. When Mr Simon were alive, he left me to do as I thought fit, and he were allus right pleased wi’ it, and all.’

Sheridan’s voice was steely. ‘As you might have noticed, Spencer, Mr Simon, as you call him, is no longer with us; but I’m willing to bet even he wouldn’t have stood for being addressed in that tone.’

‘There weren’t never the need of it, that’s what I’m saying. Mr Simon were a gentleman, and—’

‘I’m not?’

Jack was aware of Bryan tugging nervously at his sleeve, but there was no stopping him now.

‘Not the way you talk to me, you’re not, bossing me around all t’time as though I’m not good enough to tie your laces. And it’s not even your garden, it’s Mrs Beth’s! If
she
wants chrysanths, I’ll get ’em and gladly, but I know damn well she don’t!’

Sheridan’s face was white, and a tic jumped at the corner of his mouth. ‘That’s quite enough. Take your things and go. And you needn’t bother coming back.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t. But I’m not going afore I’ve finished cleaning yon car.’

And he picked up the hose, relishing Sheridan’s instinctive skip backwards, and continued with the rinsing. After a moment of total immobility, his employer turned on his heel and strode away.

‘Arrogant bugger!’ Jack said, loud enough for him to hear.

‘Oh, Dad!’ Bryan whimpered. ‘Have you got the sack?’

‘No, son,’ Jack replied loftily, ‘I resigned. And not before time, neither.’

Jack was still shaking when, having recoiled the hose, he climbed into Beth’s car. A turn or two of the ignition showed the battery to be totally flat.

He climbed out again and turned to his son. ‘Get in, lad, and steer t’wheel while I push ’un inter t’garage.’

Between them, they managed to roll the car inside. Jack took out the keys and handed them to the boy.

‘I’m not goin’ within fifty yards of any of ’em, Bry. But you knock on t’back door and hand these to Miss Jenkins. Ask her to tell Mrs Beth as her battery’s flat. It’ll need chargin’ afore she can shift it.’

The boy looked at him anxiously. Then he nodded, took the keys, and ran round the back of the house. Jack stared malevolently at Sheridan’s large black car. For two pins he’d have run his keys along the gleaming paintwork.

Smiling grimly, he walked back outside and pulled down the door.

The deed was done. Hearts hammering, the three children had crept out of the house, and as arranged, Abby took out her rope and began skipping outside the garage, ready to warn of anyone’s approach. Jilly watched with bated breath as Cal propped open the bonnet and, after a moment’s scrutiny, unscrewed the cap of the relevant container. Slowly, careful not to spill any, he dropped a handful of gravel into the fluid and replaced the cap.

Then, breathing heavily, he looked across at his sister and gave her the thumbs up.

‘Geronimo!’ he said.

It was past eleven when Molly, dozing in front of the television, became aware of knocking on the front door. She looked up at the clock, and frowned. Jack should have been back before this.

She hurried to the door, to find her husband on the step, supported by two of his friends.

‘He’s all right, missus, had a drop too much, that’s all,’ Stan Blenkinsop told her.

‘More than a drop, by the look of him,’ Molly said sharply.

Stan grinned. ‘Sounding off he were, all evening, about what he’d like to do to him up at t’Lodge. There was no holding ’im.’

Molly flushed. ‘His bark’s worse than his bite,’ she said. ‘Thanks for bringing him home.’

‘Reckon we’d better give you a hand wi’ him up t’stairs, and all,’ said the other man. ‘He’s no light weight for a slip of a thing like you.’

‘Well, I—’

‘No bother,’ they assured her. And as she helplessly followed in their wake, they half lifted, half dragged Jack up the steep staircase to their room and heaved him on to the bed.

‘He’ll be right as rain come morning,’ they assured her, as they took their leave with her renewed thanks.

Molly could only hope they were right.

Sixteen

The children were surprised to find Harold still at the breakfast table when they came down the next morning.

‘He has to see a client, so he’s leaving a bit later,’ Beth explained.

Great! Cal exulted; thanks to them, he’d be late for an important meeting. He glanced at his sisters, but their eyes were fixed on their plates. They’d not expected to see Harold, and guilty consciences made it hard to look at him. It was a relief when it was time to leave for school.

At the bend in the drive, they turned to wave to their mother.

‘Are you sure they won’t know it was us?’ Abby asked, as they continued on their way.

‘Positive,’ replied Cal confidently.

It was almost lunchtime when one of the prefects came into the classroom and spoke quietly to the mistress in charge. Jilly, who was translating a French poem, jumped when she heard her name.

‘Jilly Poole! Mr Graham would like to see you in his room.’

Jilly stared at her, her mind racing back over past misdemeanours. She couldn’t recall any recent ones, but it was rare to be summoned to the head’s study, especially in the middle of a class.

‘Off you go, then!’ Miss Davis prompted, and Jilly, still wondering what she’d done wrong, rose obediently from her desk.

The head’s study lay on the far side of the glass entrance doors, and glancing through them, she was surprised to see a police car outside. Then, as she turned into the corridor, she saw Cal and Abby, accompanied by another prefect, waiting for her outside the head’s door. A wave of coldness washed over her. Had Harold discovered what they’d done, and reported them to the police? She wouldn’t put it past him.

Feeling slightly sick, she hurried to join them. Cal and Abby looked equally worried, but the prefect gave her a sympathetic smile, and knocked on the door. It was opened by Mr Graham himself.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he said distractedly. ‘Come in, all of you, and – sit down.’

This wasn’t the usual opening to a reprimand, and their surprise increased when, as the three of them entered the room, the headmaster left it, closing the door behind him. Then they promptly forgot him, for standing by his desk were a man and woman in police uniform, and next to them – unbelievably – was Liza, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jilly’s heart set up an uncomfortable, thudding beat.

The WPC gave them a strained smile. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘My name’s Sue. Would you – like to sit down?’ She indicated three chairs that had been set against the wall.

Cal, speaking for all of them, said in a strangled voice, ‘We’d rather stand.’ His eyes were fixed on Liza.

‘Just as you like.’ Sue replied. ‘But – I’m afraid we have some very bad news.’

The children, rigid, stared at her in silence. She moistened her lips. ‘I’m very sorry to tell you that your parents have been involved in a car crash – a serious one. And – unfortunately, they – didn’t survive.’

There was total silence. Then Jilly said in a croak, ‘
They
?’

Sue nodded. ‘Your mother and – stepfather, wasn’t it?’

‘
Mummy
?’ Abby asked, her voice rising.

‘I’m afraid so, yes. I’m so very sorry.’

‘But – it can’t be! There must be a mistake!’ Cal said rapidly. ‘Mum has her own car, she doesn’t—’

The policewoman glanced at Liza. ‘Miss Jenkins says her battery was flat, so your stepfather gave her a lift.’

Jilly’s hands flew to her head. ‘No!’ she gasped. ‘No, no, no!’

‘Oh, my poor lambs!’ Liza cried on a sob, and held out her arms. Abby ran to her, hurling herself against the familiar body, but Jilly and Cal stood immobile, ashen-faced.

‘This,’ Cal said distinctly, ‘isn’t happening. Please say it isn’t.’

The policeman came forward and took his arm. ‘Sit down, sonny. You’ve had a nasty shock.’

Cal shook him off. ‘It’s not true – is it? Not Mum?’ He stared beseechingly at Liza, but her distress was answer enough. She wouldn’t have wept for Harold. Cal suddenly crumpled to the floor, hands linked behind his bowed head. Jilly dropped down and held him to her, as the two of them rocked backwards and forwards in an agony of grief.

The police officers watched them helplessly for a moment, then, taking control, raised them gently to their feet. ‘We’ll run you all home,’ Sue said.

Somehow, the hours passed. Since Liza was still distraught, the police officers stayed on, making hot, sweet tea as they all sat, frozen with shock, round the kitchen table.

‘Your aunt and uncle are on their way,’ Liza said at one point, mopping her eyes. ‘It must have been providence made Mr Firbank leave his pyjamas.’

And, at their blank faces, she explained about Pam’s call, giving their address. ‘Otherwise, with them touring Scotland, we’d have had no way of contacting them.’

Finally bracing herself, Jilly asked fearfully, ‘What caused the crash? Does anyone know?’

The policeman shook his head. ‘Too early to say. There’ll be an investigation, but it seems no other vehicle was involved. The car took a corner fairly fast, then must have spun out of control. It veered into a wall, bounced off it across the road on to the grass verge, and – turned over on to its roof.’

He hesitated, looking at four horrified faces and wondering if he’d said too much. They’d a right to know, though. He added gently, ‘It all happened very quickly. They – wouldn’t have suffered.’

Cal stood up abruptly. ‘If you don’t mind, we’d like to be alone for a while,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘We’ll be down the garden if you need us.’

Liza made a protesting gesture, but without glancing at the adults, the three children quickly left the room.

Once in the privacy of the enclosure, they instinctively held on to each other in a closed circle, all of them trembling.

‘We killed Mummy!’ Abby sobbed.

‘It was an accident,’ Cal said harshly. ‘The police said so.’

‘But we made it happen!’

‘No! The gravel couldn’t have caused it.’

‘You said it wasn’t dangerous,’ Jilly accused him through her tears.

‘It wasn’t. It shouldn’t have been. Something else must have happened.’

‘Perhaps we should—’

‘
No!
That’s why we came down here – I thought one of you might blurt something out.’

Cal disentangled himself from his sisters’ arms, felt in his pocket, and extracted a penknife.

‘Nothing we say can help Mum now,’ he said unsteadily, ‘but in case they try to blame us, we must
never
breathe a word of what we did.’

The girls watched him wide-eyed as he made a small cut in his finger, and a bright spot of blood oozed out. ‘Give me your hand, Jilly.’

Jilly recoiled. ‘So you can cut me? Not on your life!’

‘We have to do this.’ Cal spoke in a low, urgent voice, and although she was the elder, she sensed his authority. ‘We have to mingle our blood and swear on pain of death that as long as we live, we will never breathe a word of what happened.
For as long as we live
!’ he repeated forcefully.

Reluctantly, first Jilly, then Abby received a nick. Then, under Cal’s direction, they placed their fingers together, moving them gently so that the blood of all three intermingled.

‘Now, repeat after me: “I swear I will never tell anyone what we did last night.”’

The two girls did so.

Cal wiped his penknife down the side of his shorts and replaced it in his pocket. ‘Remember that’s a binding oath,’ he said solemnly. ‘Blood is thicker than water.’

The diversion over, Abby burst into a storm of tears. ‘I want my Mummy!’ she sobbed. And as the enormity of their loss overcame them, they huddled together, seeking a comfort none of them could give.

Once they’d absorbed Liza’s terrible and incoherent call, Pam and Stephen were faced with choices that would change their lives.

‘There’s really only one course,’ Stephen said, as they hastily repacked their cases. ‘We must adopt them.’

And Pam, her tears starting again, flung her arms round him. ‘Oh darling, I was praying you’d say that!’

So, heavy-hearted and unsure how the children would respond, they returned to the house by the lake.

Pam, who had always loved the house, could now scarcely bear to be in it. She’d felt Simon’s presence on her last visit; now, there were two beloved ghosts, hovering just outside her line of vision. And adding to her unease was the reaction of the children. Though clearly devastated, they were proving resistant to her attempts at comfort, spending most of their time by themselves down the garden. In another world, she and Beth had watched them retreat there from the top of the scar.
United we stand
, she’d suggested then. Perhaps the same thing applied.

As soon as they felt it appropriate, she and Stephen had broached the idea of adoption.

‘It would be so wonderful for us to have you,’ Pam had ended. ‘You know we’ve always loved you. So what do you say? Would you like to come and live with us?’

Abby’s lip trembled. ‘We wouldn’t have to call you Mummy, would we?’

‘Oh darling, of course not! I could never be that. We’ll still be Auntie Pam and Uncle Stephen, like we’ve always been.’

The children glanced briefly at each other. Then Jilly said tonelessly, ‘All right. Thank you.’

And that, it seemed, was that.

Pam related the decision to Liza.

‘There’s no way they can go on living here,’ she said. ‘Nearly every day, they’d pass the place where their mother died – not to mention the lake that claimed their father. They know our home, and already have a few friends from when they’ve stayed with us. We’re hoping it will give them a fresh start.’

She looked at the red-eyed woman across the table, and impulsively reached for her hand. ‘How selfish of me, Liza! I’ve never asked what you’re going to do. This has been your home, too.’

‘I’ll go to my friend Cora,’ Liza replied. ‘Her son’s about to open a restaurant in France, and she’s moving out there to help him. She’s asked me to go with her, and I’ve offered to put some capital into the business.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m hoping for a fresh start, too.’

‘You know you’ll always be welcome to visit us,’ Pam said.

‘Thank you, that’s very kind. Perhaps, when some of the healing has taken place, I’ll do that. When – how soon will you all be going?’

‘As soon as the funeral’s over. The police will keep in touch about the investigation, but they don’t need us to stay. The house’ll go on the market, of course; if there’s any little thing you’d like as a keepsake, please feel free to take it.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m in no position to know how children cope with grief, but doesn’t it strike you that they’re rather – withdrawn?’

Liza nodded. ‘I’ve been worried about them from the word go. Of course—’ She broke off, then went on rather diffidently, ‘they didn’t particularly care for Mr Sheridan, I’m afraid. I’m wondering if they somehow blame him for the crash.’

‘That could be it,’ Pam agreed, with a feeling of relief. ‘Well, they say time’s a great healer. We’ll just have to hope that’s true.’

So the funeral was held in the little church down the road, which was filled to capacity. There was an unreal quality about the day that helped Pam experience it from a distance, maintaining the self-control she’d been so afraid of losing. Afterwards, only a few disparate memories remained lodged in her mind – the sun shining on to the coffins at the chancel steps as though bestowing blessing; the continuous, silent weeping of the girls and Cal’s stony face; the piercing sweetness of the hymns.

There was added poignancy in that Beth was buried not with Harold but in the same grave as Simon, whom they had laid to rest two brief years ago. Pam, glancing at Harold’s sister and her husband, wondered if they’d been prepared for that, but their faces gave nothing away. The sun was warm on their backs, the soil flung into the graves dry and crumbly. And across the road on the blindingly blue lake, boats sailed and children shouted, as though it were just another summer day. Which, perhaps, was as it should be. It was a cliché that life went on, but one they had to cling to.