Murder... Now and Then (36 page)

‘Mrs Scott?'

Catherine looked at the dark-haired young woman who stood on her doorstep, and smiled in polite expectancy. Double glazing, life insurance, a clothes catalogue – whatever it was, she probably wouldn't want it, but she never liked to be rude. She always listened to the spiel, then regretfully turned down whatever was on offer.

‘My name's Anna Worthing,' she said.

Catherine's smile stopped being polite, and became genuine. ‘Oh – you work with Max,' she said. ‘ He's mentioned you.'

She smiled. ‘May I come in?'

‘Of course.' Catherine stood aside, and waved her visitor in. ‘Max isn't here, I'm afraid,' she said.

Max was off somewhere, doubtless with some girl from the office. Catherine hoped that he would be a little more circumspect when his new bosses arrived. Zelda put up with it, though she clearly didn't approve; the new people might not think it proper behaviour on the part of the chief accountant.

Anna Worthing smiled. ‘It's you I've come to see,' she said.

She looked familiar to Catherine; of course, she'd been working at Driver's since the negotiations had reached the critical stage, but Catherine hardly ever set foot in the place. She was sure she hadn't met her there.

‘Me?' she said. ‘Does this mysterious owner vet the staff wives?'

Anna smiled a little. ‘ Well – it's that I've come about really,' she said. ‘ The mystery, I mean. The deal has finally gone through, and the new owners will be making a public announcement on Monday.'

Catherine realized that she hadn't asked her visitor to sit down; she did so now, but stayed standing herself, feeling suddenly that she was no longer in charge of this conversation. She
did
know her; she was sure she did. She felt more in command of the situation on her feet.

‘I've been asked to tell you in advance of the public announcement,' she said.

‘Me, personally?' asked Catherine.

‘Yes. You see – it does affect you. Personally.'

‘For a moment Catherine didn't have the least idea what she was talking about. But only for a moment, because then she recognized her. No. No – she was letting her mind play tricks on her. It
couldn't
be her. She wore clothes that Catherine only saw in magazines; she had style, and elegance. It couldn't – it was preposterous, it was ridiculous. Buyers kept their identity secret for all sorts of reasons – tax, strategy, whatever. Max had thought that the buyer was some super-rich multinational, and that if Zelda knew who it was she would, push up the price. It couldn't be … but it was. It was her. She sank down on to a chair, her legs suddenly weak.

‘I know you,' she said, her voice sounding as though someone else had spoken. ‘Don't I? It's my stepfather who's bought out Zelda – isn't it?'

‘Yes,' she said.

After all these years. Catherine sat there, shell-shocked into silence.

‘Victor asked me to talk to you. He had to do it this way – he thinks you would have tried to talk Mrs Driver out of it if you'd known any sooner. He really wants a reconciliation—'

‘Get out,' said Catherine, standing up.

Anna Worthing also stood, but she didn't make any move to leave.

‘Look, Catherine—' she began.

‘Don't ‘‘Catherine'' me! Get out of my house!'

‘I can't,' she said, her voice losing its well-modulated tones, and producing an edge of something like desperation. ‘ Not until I've said what he's told me to say!'

Catherine looked at her, and saw the fear that her stepfather could instil in everyone. She felt sorry for the girl. If she didn't carry out her instructions to the letter, she would be in trouble. Catherine didn't want to cause that, because being in trouble with her stepfather was something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.

‘Say it,' she said. ‘ Then get out.'

‘Victor's still in Amsterdam,' she said quickly. ‘He won't be coming over here until shortly before Christmas.' She took a breath. ‘But your mother's coming over next week. She'll be staying in the penthouse flat on top of the new office building,' she said. ‘Until the house is ready.'

‘House?' Catherine repeated dully.

‘Victor's having a house built,' she said. ‘In Stansfield – your mother wanted to be near you.'

He was actually coming back to stay. But she was married now. She had Max. She didn't have to worry about Victor. Oh, but she did. Catherine sank down into the chair, and the reversal was complete. Anna Worthing, as she called herself these days, was standing looking down at her as Catherine tried to come to terms with the impossible situation she was in. What about when Max met him? Oh, dear God. What then?

‘It's really a courtesy flat for visiting businessmen,' Anna was explaining. ‘But there's a lift from the basement car park, so it should be all right for your mother's wheelchair.'

Catherine looked up at her, her mind a blank.

‘Look – I just work for him, all right?' said Anna. ‘I know all the rumours that are flying about – but that flat isn't there for Victor and me to use.'

No. Catherine hadn't supposed it was.

‘Anyway, your mother's going to be there until Christmas. Victor wants you to go and see her. That's why he's done all this. She doesn't know how long she's got left – that's why she's coming over before the house is finished – it's not too much to ask for you to go and see her, is it?'

Catherine had wanted to see her mother every minute of every day for years after she had finally made the break. Time had healed that wound, but it had left a scar. It was being opened now and it hurt. But perhaps she could cope with it after all. Things had changed; she had Max, and she was stronger than she had once been. She was fighting on two fronts, and she could cope with only one battle at a time. She might as well direct her energies at the one she could contemplate.

‘Do you swear that he won't be there?' she asked.

‘Yes. He's in Holland – he's not coming over until late November. He said to tell you that he doesn't expect you to make it up with him. All he wants is for you and your mother to get back together.'

Catherine felt light-headed, but her brain was still working. ‘He hardly needed to move his entire seat of operations to achieve that,' she said.

‘He wanted to come back to Britain,' said Anna.

‘You mean that they were beginning to get wise to him over there?'

Anna sat down again. ‘ Look – I've known Victor a long time,' she said. ‘I know what he's like, and I can understand your wanting to have no part of it. And I expect he is getting out before mud of some sort starts flying so that none of it sticks to him. But his feelings for your mother are genuine. And it's always torn him apart that you wouldn't see her just because of him.'

It had torn
him
apart. Catherine sighed. ‘All right,' she said. ‘I'll go and see my mother.' She stood up, despite the fact her legs were still far from steady. ‘So now you can go,' she said. ‘ You've done what you were told to do, so you don't have to worry about reporting back to him.'

Anna walked to the door.

‘And I don't want you in my house ever again,' said Catherine. ‘Tell him that too.'

Anna Worthing left, and Catherine dissolved into tears.

Linda had come expecting to find Lloyd; instead, she had found Judy, and that had not pleased her.

‘He's only popped into the library,' Judy said. ‘He won't be long – come in and wait.'

‘I'd rather not,' she said stiffly.

Judy could have left it there. It was Saturday morning; she and Lloyd didn't get much time together, and Linda's company was not something she was likely to enjoy. But the animosity had gone on long enough. ‘This is silly,' she said. ‘If you want to talk to your dad, come in and wait for him – he'll be back in about twenty minutes. We can have a cup of coffee – I'll make myself scarce when he comes back.'

Linda was her father's daughter, all right; blue eyes looked back into Judy's, and words – that great Lloyd family weapon – were rising to her lips, only to be bitten back. Lloyd had never learned how to do that. Her mother's influence, presumably, had at least curbed the instinct in Linda.

Linda came in, Judy made coffee, and they sat down and looked at one another.

‘You know it upsets your dad that you won't talk to me, don't you?' Judy said.

‘You broke up their marriage! What does he expect?'

Judy nodded. ‘I know I did,' she said quietly. ‘Lloyd tries to tell me I didn't, that it would have happened anyway – but I know I did.' She looked at the girl, so like Lloyd, with her dark hair and challenging eyes. ‘All I can tell you is that I did my level best not to break it up. I didn't have an affair with him, Linda. I got married – I moved away.'

‘The damage was done,' said Linda.

‘Yes.'

‘And you didn't end up in Stansfield by accident,' she added.

‘No.' Judy picked up her coffee. ‘But your father was divorced by then.'

‘You knew that, of course. Because you kept in touch with him. And you were still married!'

‘Yes.' No point in denying it, or defending it. The situation had finally resolved itself without too much damage to any of the parties involved. ‘ But I can't be sorry that Lloyd and I got together again,' she said.

‘Is that what you call it? Together? Living in separate flats?'

Judy smiled a little. ‘We don't really have much option about that,' she said. ‘We're not supposed to be doing what we are doing, never mind living together. And I'm still not divorced. But it works,' she said. ‘And at least I'm not always here when you want to see your father. We're very happy, Linda. I don't expect you to share it, but I wish you could understand it.'

‘Well, good for you! I'm so glad you're happy!'

Judy was happy. And there was a sense of security in Lloyd's little flat that even the hostile Linda couldn't chase away. She belonged here. Peter was fine; he would come and see his father from time to time, bring his friends and his girlfriends. He didn't seem to care whether Judy was there or not. Judy tried to imagine how she would have felt if her father had divorced her mother and gone off with some female colleague, and knew that she would feel very like Linda did. Angry. But not unhappy, surely? Not after all this time.

‘Aren't you happy?' she asked.

‘He didn't leave me,' she said. ‘ He left my mother.'

‘Is she unhappy?' Judy had got the impression from Lloyd that Barbara was all right now. He didn't usually delude himself about such things.

‘She's taken up with some man,' said Linda. ‘Next thing he'll be moving in completely.'

Ah. That had to be Lloyd territory. But Judy made a mild attempt to gauge the situation. ‘Don't you like him?' she asked.

Linda shrugged. ‘He's all right,' she said.

‘Weren't you thinking of going to work in London anyway?' Judy asked.

‘He made such a song and dance about it that Mum won't let me now!'

‘Your mum's boyfriend?' asked Judy.

‘No! My dad, of course! He seems to think I'll end up on the streets if I go to London.'

Judy breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least it wasn't the new man laying down the law; it was Lloyd This she could handle. ‘Would you like me to have a word with him?' she asked.

‘If mum couldn't persuade him, I don't see how you can. You know what he's like.'

Judy smiled. It was the first time that Linda had admitted that Judy did know her father really quite well. ‘A different approach,' she said. ‘It might work, if you'd like me to try.'

She knew Lloyd's objections; they were sound and sensible and doubtless had also been voiced by Barbara. But Lloyd was getting the blame, of course, because he was in the doghouse, and had been, not since the divorce, but ever since Judy had come back into his life.

‘If you like,' Linda said.

It was less than gracious, but it was a start.

‘How much?' spluttered Bannister.

‘That's what they cost Dave,' she said.

‘For a pair of shoes that he'll have outgrown in six bloody months?' Bannister held the shoe in his hand and looked at it. ‘Christ Jackie – what are we supposed to live on?'

‘That's what they
cost
,' she repeated. ‘It's better than getting him one of those computer games! Just be thankful that he
wants
a pair of trainers for Christmas!'

‘They cost a quarter of that on the market!'

‘I can't go to the market! It's always closed up by the time I've finished work – I have to go to the big shops that stay open late! If you want to buy his shoes on the market – you go!'

Bannister stared at her. ‘I'm not doing bloody Christmas shopping,' he said.

‘No. Or the bloody washing, or the ironing, or the cooking, or the cleaning. You do sod all, Dave Bannister!'

He threw down the shoe, and picked up the evening paper. ‘ I'm trying to get a job!' he said, shaking it in her face. ‘There's three in this area tonight. Three. And two of them I don't even understand – they're all full of sodding initials and if you don't know what it means, you don't apply! You want to know the one I do understand? Night bloody watchman, and I've phoned up about it and it's gone!'

Jackie looked at him, her eyes sad. She felt sorry for him, and that made it even worse. He threw the paper on to the sofa, and ran his hands over his face. ‘I've been offered a job as a minder,' he said.

‘Not those crooks, Dave!'

‘Yes, those crooks! It's good money.' He sat down, and found he was sitting on a toy. ‘ I'm thinking about it,' he said, removing the obstruction, longing for the space of their old house, where they didn't all have to live on top of one another. It was worse than ever in here with the tree and the decorations. And God knows how much they had cost. He hadn't paid the rent on this rabbit hutch for two months. ‘I've got to,' he said to her.