A Family Concern (31 page)

Sophie smiled stiffly and did not reply.

‘Rona!' Kate was smiling at her. ‘Are you joining the party?'

‘It seems so,' Rona said, and saw her friend's puzzled frown. Then Stephen reappeared with his sons, said briskly, ‘Good to see you all,' and pressed the lift buttons. Two adjacent sets of doors opened, they all piled in and rose in unison to the top floor of the hotel.

Stephen went ahead and flung open the door to his apartment with a flourish. Over his shoulder, Rona caught a glimpse of his wife and mother, who turned in surprise as he motioned the group ahead of him into the sitting room.

‘A family reunion,' he announced, still in that brisk, staccato voice.

Dorothy Fairfax swayed suddenly. ‘Stephen, no!' she said sharply. ‘
No!
'

Ruth looked quickly at her husband, and something she saw in his face made her take her mother-in-law's arm and lower her gently into her chair. Then she turned to face the crowd who had so unexpectedly invaded her privacy.

‘How nice to see everyone,' she said, ‘do please sit down. Chris, there are more chairs in the other room.'

‘And Gerald, will you see to the drinks?' his father directed.

Sophie, who didn't seem able to stop shaking, saw Chris glance at her, his face a mixture of guilt and bewilderment. Yes, she told him silently, things might have happened differently if you'd come when I asked you. Though the eventual outcome would doubtless have been the same.

Dorothy was lying back in her chair with a hand across her forehead and Ruth, once everyone else was seated, had taken her place beside her, and was holding her free hand. When they'd all been given a glass, Stephen raised his, said, ‘Happy Families!' and laughed.

Everyone looked at him, uncertain of his mood, but they dutifully repeated, ‘Happy Families.'

‘Only they're not, always, are they?' Stephen went on. He was standing by the fireplace, one arm resting along the mantelpiece. ‘Even weddings hold hidden dangers. They certainly have in our family; Lewis and Sophie fell in love at one of them, which caused a lot of heartache, though fortunately it's since been remedied. However, a previous occasion proved considerably more lethal.'

He took a drink from the glass in his hand, and his eyes went over them. Amy, drowsy after her meal, had fallen asleep on her father's lap, but the adults were attentive and now faintly apprehensive.

‘You see,' he continued deliberately, ‘at a wedding many years before that, I fell for Velma Tarlton, and she for me.'

There was total silence, broken at last by a low moan from Dorothy. Ruth sat frozen beside her, her face a pale mask.

Robert cleared his throat. ‘I don't understand. You're surely not saying—?'

‘I'm afraid, old man, that's exactly what I'm saying.' His eyes flickered to Ruth. ‘Forgive me, my darling. If you remember, we were going through a bad patch around that time.'

He paused, but if expecting a reply, he was disappointed. Her expression remained blank.

‘So I repeat, weddings can be a dangerous time. Too much champagne is drunk, love is in the air – often, it's said, one wedding leads to another. In our case, I regret to say, it led to an affair. I'd met her before, of course, but only casually, and – forgive me, Robert – I'd heard rumours about her. She was beautiful, she was a little drunk and so was I. We found an empty room at the reception, and … made love.'

He took another drink. ‘To be honest, I thought that was it. A bit of foolishness, best forgotten. But the next week, she rang up and asked me to meet her. Stupidly, I did so, and after that things became a lot more serious. We were besotted with each other, but our main problem was finding somewhere to go where we wouldn't be recognized. Then Velma had the idea of meeting in the woods behind her house. I'd drive along Woodlands Road, park the car out of sight under low-hanging bushes, and make my way into the woods from that end. If Nanny and Freya were out, Velma came through the garden. Otherwise, she'd cut down the alley. It went on all summer; sometimes we managed to meet two or three times a week, at others, ten days or more would pass without seeing each other. God knows how long it would have lasted, but one day she startled me by suggesting we went away together.'

At the beginning of this account, Lewis had gone to stand behind his father's chair. Now, he laid a hand on his shoulder, and Robert, moving like an automaton, reached up to pat it.

‘Admittedly, life was a little dull at the time,' Stephen continued. ‘The hotel was in the doldrums, Ruth and I were having problems, and there were two children to support. Now, suddenly, I had the chance to leave it all behind and fly off to romantic places with a glamorous blonde. I told myself I'd be a fool not to go, but something held me back.'

He sighed. ‘If I'd had any sense, I'd have told Velma my doubts, but I didn't want to burst her bubble. So, like an idiot, I kept quiet, and the next thing I knew, she'd settled on a date and was planning to leave Robert a note, telling him not to try to find her, because this time she'd gone for good. I immediately panicked and started back-pedalling, but she laughed it off as cold feet. It was arranged that she'd bring her suitcase to the clearing, and we'd drive to Heathrow and start a new life together.'

Stephen went over to the drinks cabinet and refilled his glass. He held the bottle up enquiringly, but nobody moved and he set it down again and returned to his position by the fireplace.

‘I knew by now I didn't want to go, but still hadn't the courage – or honesty – to tell her. Then, the evening before we were due to leave, I found Ruth in our room in tears. We had a long talk, reaching far into the night, and the long and the short of it was that I realized she was the one I wanted, and always had been. I also saw that I'd been criminally weak and cowardly in not being honest with Velma, and at this stage, there was no way to avoid hurting her. All I could do was turn up as arranged, and try to break the news as gently as possible.'

There was a long silence, while he stared down at the floor. ‘I was the first to arrive,' he said at last. ‘I paced up and down waiting for her, and as time went by, I began to hope something had gone wrong, and she wasn't coming after all. I was on the point of leaving when she turned up with her suitcase, all excited and eager to go.'

He broke off. ‘God, I wish I still smoked!' he said.

Dorothy sat up in her chair. ‘Stop there, Stephen,' she ordered. ‘We've heard quite enough.'

Stephen looked at her, his eyes full of pity. ‘You knew, didn't you?' he said softly. ‘I never realized till just now, when we all came in.'

‘I knew you were having an affair, and with whom. Of course I did. I'm not blind, and you're my son. Then, when you became so withdrawn and I heard she'd gone off with someone, I assumed she'd dumped you. That
is
what happened, isn't it?'

‘I wish it were,' he said. ‘I told her as gently as I could, but she became hysterical, crying and screaming, and clawing at me. I just couldn't reason with her. She was clinging to me like a wild thing and I began to lose patience. Finally, when she just wouldn't let go of me, I gave her a push. She stumbled backwards, tripped, and fell, cracking her head against a stone.'

There was another long silence. When he continued, it was as though he was speaking to himself. ‘I waited for her to get up, and when she didn't, told her not to be so stupid, or words to that effect. Then I got hold of her arm and tried to pull her to her feet, but she just fell back again. And then …' For the first time, his voice faltered. ‘I saw the blood, on the stone under her, and still pouring from her head. I couldn't believe what was happening. I gave her the kiss of life, tried artificial respiration, everything, but I couldn't revive her.'

There was total silence in the room, as everyone pictured the scene.

‘After about twenty minutes,' Stephen went on heavily, ‘I had to accept that she was dead. And then the panic set in. I couldn't
tell
anyone she was there, because how would I have known? Nor could I leave her for some kid to come across while playing. I thought wildly of carrying her to the car and disposing of her somewhere, but I'd read about traces of blood and hair being impossible to remove however hard you tried. I was sobbing uncontrollably by this time, from fear and regret and general helplessness. And then I remembered the well. Velma had told me about it, and once, in the early days, we'd prised off the top and looked inside. She dropped in a coin and made a wish that we'd always be together.' He wiped a hand across his face as the irony of this struck him for the first time.

‘So I stumbled back to the car, found some tools in the boot, and prised the lid off again. Then I had to drag her through the undergrowth. It was horrible – her dress kept catching on brambles and I found myself apologizing to her. It was quite a struggle to heave her up and over the side, and there was a sickening thud as she landed at the bottom. No splash, though; the well had been dry for years. I replaced the lid, then remembered the suitcase, went back for it and dropped it in after her.'

He raised his ravaged face and stared almost defiantly at his stunned audience.

‘Of
course
I should have reported her death, and that's the main thing that will go against me now. But whichever course of action I took, it wouldn't have brought Velma back, and I reasoned with myself that it was in the general interest to keep quiet. If I told anyone what had happened, quite apart from the consequences to me personally, two families would be destroyed. As it stood, Mother and Ruth would know nothing, and Robert would believe she was living happily with someone else – she'd told me she hadn't mentioned my name. What's more, no one would even look for her, because she'd asked them not to.

‘So there you have it.' His eyes rested on Robert. ‘I hope you believe I wouldn't have let you be charged with her murder,' he said. ‘I wronged you once, badly, all those years ago. I wouldn't have done it again.'

Robert briefly inclined his head.

Stephen turned to Sophie. ‘Now all that remains is to hear how you found me out. Because you did, didn't you?'

She nodded.

‘Well?'

‘It was the whistling,' she said.

‘
Whistling
?'

‘“Auprès de ma blonde”.'

He stared at her. ‘What the hell—?'

‘The same tune,' Freya broke in, speaking for the first time and startling them all, ‘that you were whistling just before you killed my mother.'

Stephen's face was white. ‘I don't understand.'

Robert turned quickly to his daughter, but she shook off his restraining hand and addressed Stephen directly. ‘All my life I've had periodic nightmares about someone whistling that tune,' she said. ‘But it's only in the last week or two that I learned why.'

She took a deep breath. ‘Lewis and his friends had a tree house in that clearing, but they wouldn't let me play up there. That day, when Nanny was asleep, I went into the woods by myself and climbed up the rope ladder. I was there when you arrived.'

‘My God!' Stephen breathed.

‘I saw you pacing up and down, and then you sat on a log just underneath me, and started whistling that tune.'

‘How old were you?' Stephen's voice cracked.

‘Three,' she replied.

‘My God!' he said again.

‘I only remembered flashes, but the last one was of Mummy lying directly below me. Her eyes were open, and she seemed to be staring straight up at me.'

Stephen put his hand across his own eyes. ‘You didn't recognize me?' he asked in a low voice.

‘No. I don't suppose I knew you well, if at all. But a few weeks ago a musical box in the shop played that tune and I – I fainted. Sophie wanted to know what was wrong, and I told her. Today, she must have recognized it.'

Stephen drew a deep breath. ‘Well, it's come out at last. I've hurt all of you – Ruth and Robert in particular, even little Freya, in a freakish, unimaginable way. All I can say in mitigation is that I never meant to kill her – even to hurt her. In my own way, I loved her, and what happened that day has haunted me ever since.'

Chris cleared his throat. ‘So what happens now?'

‘I go to the police.'

‘Will anyone be there, on Christmas Day?'

‘Christmas Day!' Stephen gave a hollow laugh. ‘So it is. Believe it or not, I'd forgotten.'

‘There'll be a skeleton staff,' Bruce said. ‘It might be better to wait until tomorrow.'

Rona stirred. ‘I should go; my family will be wondering where I am.'

Stephen turned to her. ‘I'm still not sure of your part in all this.'

‘She went to see Nanny Gray,' Kate said, ‘who admitted falling asleep when she was supposed to be watching Freya, and later finding her in a shocked state in the woods. Everything fell into place after that. Except who you were, of course.'

‘And my whistling gave me away. I didn't even know I was doing it.' He glanced almost fearfully at Ruth, then went over and, kneeling beside her chair, gathered her into his arms.

‘Can you ever forgive me?' he asked.

‘What will happen to you?' she whispered.

‘Well, by asking casual questions here and there, it seems likely I'll be charged with manslaughter and sentenced to ten years, reduced to five. Which is probably better than I deserve.'

Rona, who'd become increasingly uncomfortable during the last few minutes, rose to her feet. ‘I must go,' she said again. ‘This is a family matter. I – hope everything goes as well as possible.'

‘Thanks for your help, Rona,' Kate said quietly, and Sophie nodded. Across the room her eyes briefly met Stephen's. There would be no thanks from him, she thought ruefully. Dorothy, as undeniable head of the family, spoke for them all.