Next Door to Murder (22 page)

Her voice broke, and Rona heard herself say, ‘I'll be there in ten minutes.'

She pulled her T-shirt back on and rang Max's mobile.
Answer it!
she screamed silently, as the dialling tone rang in her ears. But it was the voicemail that replied.

‘Max, I have to take Felicity to Farnbridge. Julian's been in an accident. God knows when I'll be home. Phone me when you can.'

Only as she ran downstairs did she remember his instructions not to go out in the dark, and the reason for them. But surely no one would wait outside on the off-chance of seeing her on a night like this.

‘Gus!' she called, as she struggled into her waterproof. ‘Come here! Good boy!'

After a surprised pause, he came loping up the basement stairs and submitted to having his lead clipped on. Oh,
how
she didn't want to go! Rona thought. And surely Felicity had closer friends than herself, whom it would have been more natural to have called on?

But with Julian's life in the balance, there was no time for questions. With a resigned sigh, she opened the front door, put up her umbrella, and set off through the wet darkness, the dog trotting at her side.

Felicity was waiting for her at the gate, and opened the passenger door before Rona had a chance to do so.

‘I can't tell you how grateful I am,' she said, pulling it shut behind her and fumbling for the seat belt. ‘I've brought a flask of coffee. You're sure you know the way?'

‘I'm sure.' The windows steamed up anew from Felicity's wet clothes, and Rona turned up the fan.

‘Fortunately, the girl next door was able to come in,' Felicity said jerkily, as they set off. ‘She often babysits for us, and if we're going to be late, stays overnight.'

A stream of cars passed the end of Oak Avenue before Rona was able to turn on to Alban Road. ‘You said you don't know why Julian's in Farnbridge,' she prompted gently.

There was a long silence, and Rona wondered if, her mind elsewhere, Felicity hadn't heard her. But then she said steadily, ‘There are quite a few things I don't understand, Rona. And until I have a clearer picture, I'd rather not broadcast them; which is why – unfairly, I know – I called on you. In our circle, rumours fly like wildfire.'

They had passed Market Street, and were now driving up the northern stretch of Alban Road, their windscreen wipers, though working frenetically, unable to keep the glass clear. On the pavements, crowds, just out of the theatre or cinema, struggled with umbrellas, and streetlights threw great globules of light on to the wet road. It was slow going in the heavy traffic, and Rona could feel Felicity's desperate frustration.

Then, in a flat voice, Felicity said, ‘I'm sorry; you deserve an explanation, and I know you'll be discreet. Julian went to London this morning, by train. His car's at the station. At least, I assume it is. That's the point, you see; I can't think why he was in a car at all, let alone up in Farnbridge. He told me he'd several meetings, would stay on for a business dinner, and spend the night at his club.'

Rona, with a sideways glance at her set face, remained silent.

‘A parallel story, which I keep assuring myself has no connection,' Felicity continued, ‘is that, as I told you, Tara's attending a reunion dinner in Farnbridge this evening.'

Oh God, Rona thought, on a wave of pity. As if her husband's accident wasn't enough, Felicity had this additional burden.

Instead of making any comment – and what could she say? – she asked, ‘What exactly did the hospital say, when they phoned you?'

‘That there'd been a serious accident just outside the town. An RTA, they called it. No other vehicle was involved; apparently the car had skidded on the wet road and gone into a tree.' She added inconsequentially, ‘The roads are always dangerous when it rains after a long dry spell. There's oil on the surface, I think.'

‘Did they say where he was hurt?'

‘Severe facial cuts and – and internal injuries.'

She was quiet for a while, and Rona saw she was crying. She switched on the radio, tuned to Classic FM, in a silent gesture of sympathy.

They were turning on to the ring-road when Max phoned. Rona plugged in her hands-free device, desperate to hear his voice.

‘Where are you?' he asked at once. ‘Are you all right?'

Conscious of Felicity beside her, Rona answered as briefly and concisely as she could.

‘And where are you?' she asked then.

‘Almost home. I tried to phone earlier, but couldn't get a signal. Driving conditions are appalling, aren't they? For God's sake take care, darling, and I hope things aren't as bad as you fear at the hospital. You'll keep me informed?'

‘I'll try, but I shan't be able to use my mobile. If I don't manage it, I'll ring you as we're leaving.'

As she used the plural pronoun, she wondered whether in fact Felicity would be spending the night at the hospital. It seemed more than likely.

‘Do that, and if you can give me an idea of when you'll get back, I'll meet you at the garage.'

As she rang off, Felicity took out her own mobile. ‘I'll see if there's any more news,' she said tremulously.

Apparently there wasn't; Julian was still in the operating theatre. Felicity told whoever it was that she'd be there in about twenty minutes – an optimistic estimate, Rona feared – and broke the connection. The rain was easing off slightly, and she reduced the speed of the windscreen wipers. Their wheels hissed along the wet ground, and, without the benefit of streetlights, they were dependent on the gold path carved out by their headlights. Rona prayed they wouldn't meet any oncoming traffic on the narrow roads.

It was like a nightmare, she thought, driving through the wet darkness, not knowing what awaited them at their destination. On the back seat, Gus stirred sleepily, then settled down again. Houses began to appear, and streetlights, and at last they were approaching Farnbridge.

It was only as, having left Gus in the car, they were hurrying across the hospital forecourt, that Rona remembered Felicity's flask of coffee, never opened. She'd have welcomed it now.

Twelve

A
hospital at night is not the most cheerful of places. Having announced themselves at Reception, Rona and Felicity were led down long, dimly-lit corridors to the relatives' room. There was no one inside, though the cushions on the sofa were dented, and there were polystyrene cups half-full of coffee. Rona couldn't help wondering what news had awaited those previous occupants.

After about five minutes, a white-coated doctor came in and smiled at them gravely.

‘Mrs Willow?'

Felicity sprang to her feet. ‘Yes; how's my husband?'

Her eyes begged him for good news, but he answered quietly, ‘It's still too early to tell. I can, however, report that the operation went well, which is a step in the right direction.' He paused. ‘I don't know whether you realize, Mrs Willow, that your husband wasn't the driver of the car?'

Felicity stared at him, moistening her lips. ‘I – hadn't really thought about it,' she stammered. Then, with rising urgency, ‘Was someone else hurt?'

‘Yes, the woman with him. We've established her identity, but so far have been unable to trace any next of kin. I was wondering—'

‘Tara?' whispered Felicity fearfully.

The doctor looked relieved. ‘You do know her; that's what we hoped. Perhaps you can tell us whom we could contact?'

There was a long silence, and the doctor looked at her enquiringly. ‘Mrs Willow?' Then, more gently, ‘Perhaps you'd like to sit down again?'

Carefully, Felicity lowered herself to a chair. ‘She's my husband's cousin,' she said with an effort.

‘Excellent. Then if I send someone along, you'll be able to supply all the necessary details?'

‘How badly hurt is she?'

‘She has chest injuries from the steering wheel, but, unlike your husband's, they're not life-threatening. Shall I take you to her?'

‘No,' Felicity said sharply. ‘I want to see my husband.'

‘I understand that, but he's not yet regained consciousness; and your cousin is very distressed. She feels responsible for the accident, and keeps asking after your husband. She's not been told of his condition.'

Felicity's hands knotted in her lap. ‘Is his life still in danger?'

‘The next few hours are crucial,' the doctor said, with professional caution, ‘but the signs are hopeful. That's really all I can say at this stage. If you'd like to see him now, I'll find someone to take you to him. And after that, perhaps . . .?'

His voice tailed off enquiringly, but Felicity gave no assurances, and after a moment, he nodded and left the room.

Into the sudden silence, Rona said, ‘She probably wanted a partner at the dinner.'

‘Then why did they both make a secret of it? And where were they planning to spend the night? They must have just left the university.' Felicity caught her breath as another thought struck her. ‘If she'd been drinking, I'll kill her,' she said.

There was a tap on the door and a nurse came in, smiling brightly. ‘I'll take you to your husband now, Mrs Willow.'

Felicity rose quickly, but at the door she stopped and looked back. ‘You will stay, won't you, Rona? At least until I know he's going to be all right?'

‘Of course I will,' Rona said.

Knowing Felicity, she felt pretty sure she would go to Tara, after satisfying herself on Julian's condition. Though hurt and deceived, there was no vindictiveness in her. In the meantime, Rona ventured out into the corridor in search of the coffee machine.

Dominic said lazily, ‘I'd almost forgotten how good we are together.'

Carla laughed and lay back on the pillows. ‘You mean I'm an adequate enough stop-gap, while you're between lovers.'

He smiled, smoothing back her damp hair. ‘You underestimate yourself. But between lovers is where I'll be remaining for the foreseeable future. After the Miranda scare, I shall take things very slowly for a very long time.'

‘What of the fair Lindsey?'

‘We'll have to wait and see, shan't we? I met her sister, did I tell you? A highly intelligent young woman. As to Lindsey, no doubt she'll be at the Yarborough drinks party tomorrow.'

‘So you'll take her?'

‘She won't need an escort; she lives only a hundred yards down the road.'

‘That's not the point, though, is it?'

‘Are you trying to push me into the arms of another woman?' he demanded, mock-seriously. ‘Don't tell me you're already tiring of my attentions!'

‘I've a feeling you might lose that one, if you're too offhand. As I said, she has other irons in the fire.'

‘I'll bear that in mind,' he said.

As Rona had expected, Felicity opted to remain at the hospital. She returned after some forty minutes to renew her thanks and let Rona know her decision.

‘He's just come round, but he's very groggy. He – was able to squeeze my hand.'

Tara was not mentioned, and Rona dared not enquire.

‘I'm so very sorry to have dragged you into this, Rona. You've been a true friend, and I'm extremely grateful. I only hope you're not too tired, now, to drive home.'

‘I'll be fine. I had as strong a coffee as I could get out of the machine. But what a relief, that he seems to have turned the corner.'

Felicity gave her a quick hug. ‘I'll phone you tomorrow, with an update.'

The rain had stopped by the time she left, and she released Gus from the car and walked with him round the perimeter of the car park, pausing halfway to phone Max.

‘Yes?' His voice was thick with sleep.

‘It's me,' she said ungrammatically. ‘I'm just about to set off.'

‘What time is it?'

‘Five past one. I should be back by two.'

‘How's the patient?'

Now wasn't the time to explain about Tara. ‘Out of the woods, I think. At any rate, he's regained consciousness.'

‘That's good news. And what about you? You must be exhausted.'

‘Not too bad. I'm walking Gus round the car park, and the fresh air's helped. It's stopped raining, thank goodness.'

‘Well, drive carefully, and give me a ring as you're coming into Marsborough. I'll meet you at the garage.'

‘You don't have to,' she protested, not very convincingly.

‘Yes, I do. I'm not having my wife walking the streets alone in the night watches.'

‘Bless you, then. See you soon.'

By the time the car was garaged and they'd walked home, both Max and Rona felt wide awake.

‘Would you like something to drink?' he asked, closing and locking the front door.

‘Yes, please; something hot, I think; it seems more appropriate at this time of night.'

‘Appropriate nothing,' Max retorted. ‘You have your cocoa by all means, but I'm ready for a nightcap.'

Gus disappeared the moment his lead was unclipped, and by the time they reached the kitchen, he was curled up in his basket. They both laughed.

‘He doesn't approve of unsociable hours,' Max said. ‘Now, fill me in with the details. What was Julian doing in that neck of the woods?'

So, seated at the kitchen table, Rona told him the full story – or as much as she knew of it.

‘We were right, then,' Max commented, holding his whisky to the light to admire its richness of colour. ‘They
were
playing away from home.'

‘It looks like it. I feel dreadfully sorry for Felicity. She's so sweet and trusting – she doesn't deserve this.'

‘What do you think will happen?'

‘Oh, she'll forgive him. I'm quite sure he's no intention of leaving her; he just wanted to have his cake and eat it.'

‘But presumably Tara will be persona non grata from now on.'