Vintage Babes (44 page)

‘Be careful,’ Gillian implored.

‘We will,’ Steve replied. ‘And you do your damnedest to keep this lot silent.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

‘We should use the stairs,’ Steve decreed, as the two of us went back across the lawn and around to the main entrance. ‘If William hears the lift it could make him even twitchier. Though I don’t understand why the guy should be so damn twitchy in the first place. Okay, Ernest was trespassing in his mother’s garage, but –’

‘I reckon there must be items in there which William doesn’t want anyone to see. Items he has stored which, if discovered and talked about, could land him in trouble. Serious trouble.’

‘Drugs? Stolen goods?’

‘Could be. He keeps suitcases in the garage and he expects to be able to drive straight in and lower the door behind him. Raises hell if he can’t.’ I thought back to what my father had told me. ‘William will also suddenly turn up here and spend the night in the visitors’ suite, although he owns a house in London and another a few miles from Dursleigh, somewhere in the countryside.’

‘Odd.’

We went into the building and through the residents’ lounge, heading towards the staircase.

‘We don’t know how Dilys will react when she sees us,’ I said, ‘but I’ll do my best to keep her quiet.’

‘Thanks, but –’ Steve placed his hand on my arm, ‘– if there is any trouble, serious trouble, get the hell out. Don’t bother about me. Just go.’

I grinned. ‘You’re expecting unquestioning obedience?’

‘I am. Carol, I mean it. Any trouble and scoot. While you’re dealing with Dilys, I’ll surprise William and, with luck, grab the knife.’

‘Don’t be too brave. Steve, I mean it,’ I said seriously.

‘No, ma’am.’

In silence, we set off up one, two, three flights of stairs until we reached the top floor landing. Walking quietly, we reached a door bearing a disc marked 33. My heart pounded. I felt wary and fearful and full of foreboding. Suppose Steve’s rescue mission went wrong? Suppose he got hurt? The police must be close and getting closer. Perhaps we should wait for them.

Without a sound, Steve inserted the key in the lock, turned it and pushed down on the brass handle. The door opened. As he crossed the small hall and went into the living room, I followed behind. At the end of the room where the French windows stood open, Dilys was sat on a navy leather pouffe. Clad in a white and red tracksuit of the kind favoured by the  late-period Elvis, she had her back to us. Her spine was stiff and her eyes were trained on the balcony. Steve had almost reached her when she glanced back, perhaps aware of a draught, and saw us. She visibly jumped. I leapt forward, intending to clamp my hand across her mouth to silence her. But she raised a finger to her lips.

‘Shh.’

I bent to her. ‘Ernest has a weak heart,’ I whispered urgently, ‘and –’

‘I know. He’s told me about his heart problems and his constipation. The hours he spends on the bog.’ She grimaced, then, speaking softly, went on, ‘Our Billy, I mean William, is his own worst enemy. When he found Ernest in the garage he could’ve simply told him to get out and stay out – it’s not as though he’d opened nothing, least that’s what Ernest says – but instead silly bugger goes bananas.’ She plucked fretfully at a black jet drop earring. ‘And what happens now? There’re bound to be questions asked, the police will be involved, so – What’s he up to?’ she said, in alarm, as Steve looked out of the French windows.

Dilys seemed so anxious and critical of her son that I decided to tell her the truth. ‘He wants to try and take the knife away from William.’

‘He mustn’t! William can turn nasty at times,  real evil, so –’

‘Then couldn’t you persuade him to hand the knife over?’ I suggested. ‘Convince him he’s making things worse, a lot worse?’

‘Me? No, he won’t listen to me. Never has, never will. And if I interfere, if I cross him, he won’t like it and –’ her face clouded ‘– he’ll make my life hell.’

So Dilys hadn’t sided with William against my father because of her own feelings, she had sided with him because she had been frightened to do otherwise.

‘He didn’t listen to his dad, neither,’ she said. ‘The only person William’s ever taken any notice of is – were – his sister. You know Tina. You and her do them fitness classes together. She’s such a good-looker, was from a nipper and still is. It used to make my day when I saw her on the telly with Joe Fernandez.’

I looked at her in confusion. ‘Tina Kincaid is William’s sister? You mean she’s your daughter?’

Dilys nodded. ‘Though she never tells no one and nor do I. I shouldn’t be telling you now. We catch sight of each other in the village, but we’re like strangers, have been for over thirty years, thanks to the prat who were her first husband and filled her head with hoity-toity ideas. But if Tina were here now, she’d be able to persuade William to cool it. He always says she can rot in hell, but, deep down, he still dotes on her and he’d do whatever –’

‘Too late,’ I said.

Steve had stepped onto the balcony and, leaving the old lady perched upright, I went to watch his progress. As he started on the short silent path which would position him behind William, I tensed. All it would need was for Ernest to acknowledge his approach by a swivel of her eyes or grateful smile, or someone on the lawn below to give a cheer, and the knife could be pointed at him. Plunged deep into him. Please don’t let anyone react, I prayed. Please, please. Seconds ticked slowly by, but Ernest’s fear meant he could see only his captor and, thankfully, the crowd made no sound.

Reaching the required position, Steve thrust out his hands, clamped them around William’s neck and yanked him backwards.

‘Yrrgh!’ With a croak of surprise, William half fell against Steve.

Ernest gawped, amazed by this sudden turn of events, then, taking his chance, scuttled away and, passing me, sped inside.

Mouthing strangled obscenities, William punched back hard with one elbow into Steve and with the other. He hit back a suede-shoed foot, and then with a second, kicking at his shins. He squirmed and fought, but could not break free.

‘Drop the knife!’ Steve ordered, and received a cacophony of swearwords in reply.

There was more elbowing, followed by further kicks. Steve managed to avoid some, but those which struck home made him wince. They looked so painful, I was wincing, too, in sympathy. Then William paused, tightened his grip on the handle of the knife and half twisted around. Oh God, he was going to stab Steve.

‘Watch him!’ I cried, as the blade lashed through the air.

Taking one hand from his attacker’s neck, Steve made a grab for his arm, but he lunged back with both elbows. The impact knocked Steve off balance and, still holding on to William, he fell against the wall and half slithered down. For a moment, the two men slumped, breathing heavily, but then the arm which gripped the knife lifted.

‘No!’ I yelped, and dashed forward, raised my booted foot and kicked. Kicked out hard at the menacing hand.

William swore, releasing the knife which skidded across the balcony floor, to be halted by a potted camellia.

‘You might’ve broken something,’ he accused me, nursing his damaged fingers. He looked forlorn and pettish, ready to sob. The vicious combatant had gone, replaced by a sulky loser.

Steve stood and dragged him upright. ‘If she has, you deserve it,’ he said.

I was thinking how close disaster could’ve been when there came the pound of running footsteps. Seconds later, three policemen burst out onto the balcony, with Gillian panting in their wake. I recognised the officers, though Roger was not among them.

‘That’s – that’s the villain,’ Gillian gasped, pointing.

‘And there’s his knife,’ Steve said, indicating the weapon as he handed him over.

Despite William’s claim that his hand could be fractured and so he represented no danger, he was handcuffed. As the policemen steered him back into the living room, Gillian, Steve and I followed. Dilys, who was now sat beside Ernest on the navy leather sofa, lowered her eyes and refused to look at her son.

William was detained in the hall, while the rest of us made short statements. We would, we were told, be required to provide more detailed information the next day. In turn, everyone went to sit at the dining table to relate their story.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ the officer enquired, as Steve ended his account.

He put a hand to his ribs. ‘I’m a bit battered and bruised, but I’ll survive.’

‘Maybe I should run you to the hospital and they can check you over?’ I suggested. He had taken some drastic punishment and I was worried about him.

He shook his head. ‘Thanks, but not necessary.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’ Turning to the policeman, Steve spoke quietly. ‘What is necessary,’ he said, ‘is that you check out the garage which Mrs Langsdon has here. You could find something of interest. Maybe drugs or stolen goods.’

The officer nodded. ‘Will do.’

‘William owns a house not far from Dursleigh,’ I added. ‘His mother can tell you where it is. That may be worth a look, too.’

‘Thanks. We’ll pay a visit.’

As the policemen exited with William and we prepared to leave, Dilys clasped hold of Gillian’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry about all this,’ she said. ‘So very sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault, dear,’ the house manager replied.

‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ Ernest said, and took a drink from a tumbler of what looked like whisky.

‘William can be kind and generous, the perfect son, but then he’ll suddenly go ape and –’ Dilys sighed. ‘What’s happened won’t spoil things for me here, will it?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Not in the least,’ Gillian told her, and headed for the door. ‘Excuse me, dear. Must be off and disperse the crowd. Speak to you later.’

‘And nothing’s spoiled as far as I’m concerned,’ Ernest said.

Leaning towards the old man, Dilys slid an arm around his shoulders and hugged him close. So close he seemed in danger of suffocating. ‘You are such a lamb. A real sweetie-pie. Another drop of malt?’

‘Um… yes, yes.’ The hug had left him pink-faced and flustered. ‘It would go down a treat.’

‘How are you feeling?’ I asked him.

‘Tip-top,’ he replied.

‘No ill effects from your ordeal?’

‘None. Must confess my heart skipped a few beats, but –’ he took a mouthful of the fresh whisky which his hostess had provided ‘– it’s back on an even keel now. Thanks to this gentleman,’ he said, raising his glass to Steve.

Steve smiled. ‘I’m relieved you’ve recovered so quickly.’

‘Ernest was telling me how you were like Superman coming to the rescue,’ Dilys said. She gazed at him in admiration. ‘Arrived out of nowhere, full of courage. Can I get you a drink? And you, too, Carol?’

‘Not for me, thanks,’ I said.

Steve shook his head. ‘Nor me. We must go.’

‘I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t say nothin’ to Tina about me letting on that I’m her mum,’ Dilys whispered to me, as Ernest started to thank Steve once again. ‘She don’t want folk to know we’re related.’

‘Would you like to be friends with her again?’ I asked.

‘Sure would, doll. It’s my sweetest dream.’

‘But you’ve never spoken to her?’

‘Didn’t want to risk any nastiness, besides it’s up to her to make the first move.’ The old lady sighed. ‘Which she ain’t going to do.’