A Family Concern (18 page)

‘Stuff and nonsense!' said Violet Gray roundly, giving Rona a glimpse of her nanny persona. ‘The child wasn't
grieving
, she was frightened.'

‘It must have been something pretty traumatic, to keep coming back after – what? – twenty-five years?' Rona paused. ‘You say she never played with that doll again?'

‘Never – wouldn't have it anywhere near her. It must have had associations with what happened in the wood.'

Miss Gray looked at Rona resignedly. ‘You're going to have to repeat all this, aren't you?'

‘I think I must; the family asked me to try to find the root of Freya's dreams, and this seems likely to have some bearing on them.' She looked at the old lady contritely. ‘Would you mind?'

‘Surprisingly, no, I don't think I should. In fact, it would be a relief to get it off my chest after all this time. My only hope is that they'll be able to forgive me.' She straightened her shoulders. ‘And now, my dear, I wonder if you'd excuse me? It has been – tiring – to go through all that again, and I need to rest.'

‘Of course.' Rona stood up at once. ‘And I'm sorry if I've upset you.'

‘I deserved to be upset,' said Violet Gray.

Avril stood looking out into the darkening street, and was filled with desolation. Soon, she'd have to draw the curtains, closing off all links with the outside world. There was no one coming home, for whom she could cook supper, no crumpled newspaper on the floor needing to be tidied away. If she dropped something as she was dashing out of the house, it would still be there when she returned. She did not, she decided, like living alone, and the sooner she could take in lodgers, have someone living and breathing in the house again, the better it would be.

She'd already received the first estimate for the conversion of the box room, and the second builder had been here today. Once she could compare the prices, she'd be able to go ahead. Both had assured her that business was quiet at the moment, and as it wasn't a big job, they could fit her in quite soon. However, ‘quite soon' at this time of year invariably meant after Christmas, so she'd have to be patient for a few weeks yet.

Which reminded her: neither of the girls had given her a firm commitment for Christmas lunch, and she was becoming more and more worried that they'd make excuses. In a way, she couldn't blame them; the first Christmas without Tom was bound to be difficult. Unless, of course – horrendous thought! – they were planning to spend the day with him and his new ‘partner'. Surely they wouldn't do that to her?

She turned despondently from the window. By now, she reflected, it would be common knowledge that Tom had left her. That afternoon, a friend from the bridge club had phoned with her annual invitation to a drinks party, and, about to make excuses as she had over the last six weeks, Avril had realized that diplomacy was no longer either necessary or possible. Though she'd dreaded having to break the news, in the event it had come as a relief, especially since Sue Parsons was the most level-headed and down-to-earth of her friends. No probing questions or exclamations of disbelief, just a quiet word of regret and the offer to pass the news on, if it would help – an offer Avril had gladly accepted. She had also, she thought with a touch of pride, accepted the invitation. They were more her friends than Tom's, and she had no intention of shutting herself off from them.

‘Life will go on,' she said aloud. If she could just get over the hurdle of Christmas, everything, she was sure, would seem more positive – work on the house, selecting her lodgers, perhaps accepting more responsibility at the library.

Squaring her shoulders, she firmly drew the curtains and went to prepare her solitary meal.

On her return home, Rona hurried straight up to the study to write down everything she could remember that Violet Gray had told her. She hadn't liked to use her recorder during her visit; it might have worried the old lady and made her more reticent in her reminiscences.

And as she wrote, she could feel her curiosity deepening. It seemed beyond doubt that the missing half-hour, while Nanny slept, had been responsible for Freya's subsequent trauma. What had happened in the woods, to have had such a lasting effect on her?

The telephone shrilled, making her jump. It was Kate Tarlton.

‘Did you see Nanny Gray today?'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘And?'

‘It's a long story, Kate, but I think it has a bearing on things.'

‘What did she say?'

Rona hesitated. ‘Do you mind if I don't go into it over the phone? I've not had time yet to sort it out. There is something you could do for me, though.'

‘Which is?'

‘Have the bolts on your back gate freed, so we can open it.'

‘For heaven's sake, Rona! What is this? A maintenance survey?'

‘Humour me, Kate. It could be important. Then, if it's all right with you, I'd like to come and see you again, with your husband this time.'

‘Sure, any evening—'

‘No, it would have to be in daylight. The weekend, perhaps?'

‘Well, Saturday, of course, is our busiest day; even more so since it'll be December.'

‘Sunday, then?'

‘Rona, stop being so mysterious! I can't wait till
Sunday
to hear about it!'

‘Sorry, Kate, but I have to check out a few things first. I really am serious about the gate, though; we need to be able to open it. Would about two be OK?'

And despite Kate's continuing protests, she put the phone down. Almost immediately it rang again, and she caught it up, ready to repeat there was no more she could say at present. But the caller this time was not Kate but Jan Tarlton.

‘Miss Parish, I apologize for phoning when we've not even met, but Kate tells me you've been to see Nanny Gray.'

‘I have, yes. With both Kate and Freya's permission.'

‘I'm concerned that you might have been given a somewhat biased account. Miss Gray has very decided views, on the family as on other things, and these can lead to misunderstandings.'

‘I'm hoping, of course, to see you all in due course,' Rona said diplomatically. ‘Did Kate explain that?'

‘About the firm, yes, but I'm thinking now of Freya. As you must know, we're all worried about her. I really feel you'd have done better to come to me. After all, I played a fairly large part in bringing her up, after my sister-in-law left.'

That jealousy again. ‘I was trying to find out exactly what happened the day she went,' Rona explained. ‘And I don't believe you saw Freya that day?'

‘Well, no. But—'

‘Miss Gray was able to give me a detailed timetable.'

‘And what use was that?'

‘I wanted to know, among other things, whether or not her mother had actually said goodbye to her.'

‘And had she?' Jan asked after a moment.

‘Yes; and she gave her a farewell present. I think she also left something for her son.'

‘None of which seems to have much bearing on Freya's dreams.'

‘It's given me something to work on,' Rona said evasively. She had no intention of telling Jan about the missing half-hour. Not yet, anyway.

‘I see. Well, of course, anything you can do will be very much appreciated.'

‘Thank you,' Rona said.

She pulled her desk diary towards her and wrote down the Sunday appointment. She was, she realized, breaking her own rule of no work at weekends, which were strictly reserved for Max. However, with the dark evenings and both Kate and Lewis working all day, there was no alternative. She hoped he would understand.

Tom and Catherine were sitting over the candlelit supper table in her bungalow.

‘Next time,' he said, ‘we must eat at the flat. But you might need to give me some cookery lessons first!'

Catherine laughed. ‘Any time. Are you beginning to feel more settled now?'

‘I wouldn't say settled, exactly. I keep waking in the night, wondering where I am, and it takes me a minute or two to orientate myself.'

‘But your boxes are all unpacked?'

‘Such as they were, yes. I wanted to get everything straight, so I can invite the girls round.'

‘Food courtesy of M&S?'

‘Very definitely.'

She refilled his coffee cup. ‘Tom, what are you doing about Christmas?'

He gave a short laugh. ‘I'll buy a portion of turkey breast and an individual plum pudding. Don't worry, I'll be fine. There's always a lot of festive nonsense on the box to keep me amused.'

‘Why don't you come to Cricklehurst with me?' she asked suddenly. ‘I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I know Daniel and Jenny would love to have you; it'll be the ideal opportunity to meet them.'

He put a hand over hers. ‘No, my darling, it would not. In fact, it would be the worst of all possible times. They've only just learned about us; they need time to get used to it. The last thing they'd want is for me to gatecrash what they planned as an intimate family Christmas.'

‘I hate to think of you by yourself,' Catherine said.

‘We can have our own celebration before you go, and I'm sure we'll be speaking on the phone. The girls will be ringing, too. I'll hardly be on my own at all.'

She leaned over and kissed him. ‘Next year, it will be different,' she said.

W
hen Rona woke the next morning, she lay for several minutes, thinking over the events of the previous day: not only her visit to Stapleton House, but the two phone calls that had followed it. Jan had warned her Miss Gray's account might be biased, but there'd been no bending of the facts relating to the day Velma left, which was what had interested her. And when it came to bias, she suspected that Jan Tarlton might be equally guilty of it.

Nevertheless, she felt she should perhaps consult a senior member of the family before going any further, and the obvious choice was Freya's father, Robert Tarlton. He'd been informed of her brief and had accepted, if not welcomed, it. It would be a courtesy to contact him now.

Accordingly, after breakfast she made the call and Robert, sounding surprised and apprehensive in equal measure, agreed to see her.

‘It would be better if you came up to the flat,' he said. ‘We could be more private there. It has a separate entrance, next door to the shop. About eleven o'clock?'

‘That would be fine,' Rona told him. ‘Thank you.'

How would he feel, she wondered belatedly, discussing the day his wife went off and left him? Perhaps, after all these years, the memories had lost the power to hurt him. She could only hope so.

Deciding it was better not to invade the home of someone she didn't know with a large dog at her side, she left a reproachful Gus at home and set off, glad that she wouldn't have to brave Kate, Freya or Jan on her way up to the flat.

Robert opened the door immediately. ‘Miss Parish? Please come up.'

She'd seen him in the shop over the years, Rona realized, making her way up the steep stairs ahead of him, but as far as she remembered, she'd never spoken to him. He was an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered, with a lined forehead and vulnerable mouth that gave his face in repose a gravity tinged with sadness. It was not difficult to understand why.

Her instinctive exclamation of pleasure, however, on reaching the top of the stairs, brought a smile to it.

‘What a charming room!' she said.

‘Thank you.'

Rona walked to the mullioned window and looked down on Guild Street, some twenty feet below her. As usual, crowds were thronging the pavement, and she remembered his reported comment that he liked being in the centre of things. Turning, she saw that the furniture was period, purloined, she imagined, from Brindley Lodge – a comfortable sofa, two easy chairs, a drop-leaf table. There was the inevitable television and music centre, but they did not hold pride of place, and the pictures on the walls were Dutch Interior, one of Rona's favourite periods. On a small table was a thermos of coffee and two mugs.

‘A little plebeian in presentation, I'm afraid, but I thought it might be welcome.'

And Rona, who had finished a cup barely half an hour earlier, assured him that it was.

‘I was thinking the other day,' she said, ‘that Tarlton's has been part of our family life for as long as I can remember.'

‘Mine, too!'

She smiled. ‘Your son and daughter are the fourth generation, aren't they?'

‘Yes; we've always been a family concern. On occasion, in more ways than one!' he added with grim humour. ‘Which brings us to the reason you're here.' He motioned her to a chair as he poured out the coffee. ‘I'm told you're trying to sort out Freya's dreams, though I confess I'm not altogether sure why you've been roped in.'

A polite way of putting it! Rona thought wryly.

‘One reason, I think, was because I was actually there that Saturday, when she fainted. And another, because I'm a journalist, and Kate thought I'd have a nose for digging out facts.'

‘Ah yes; you've known Kate for some time?'

‘Since school,' Rona confirmed.

‘And
are
you successful at ferreting things out?'

Rona carefully put her mug on the little table beside her. ‘I have managed to unearth one thing,' she said carefully. She looked up and met his eyes. ‘I believe you were told the dreams resulted from Freya's mother's departure.'

A faint shadow crossed his face. ‘That's the received wisdom, yes. Are you saying it's not right?'

She had to feel her way here. ‘I suspect that's not the only cause.'

‘Go on.'

‘I went to Stapleton House yesterday, to see Miss Gray.'

‘So I gather. It reminded me that I've been remiss; I've not visited her for a while.'

‘I – wanted to take her through that day, to see if there was anything other than your wife's going that might account for Freya's extreme reactions.' She smiled slightly. ‘I'm not questioning the doctor's conclusion – he's qualified in such things, and I'm obviously not. But it occurred to me that he mightn't have had all the facts; in which case, he made the only diagnosis open to him.'