whether there might soon be a happy announcement.
This time, though, it was obvious that there was something more on her mind than the law or babies. They’d hardly made a start on the anchovy toast and the ham sandwiches before Mrs Scott said, ‘Helen, do you remember your Aunt Julia?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘You were always her favourite when you were little.’
‘It is many years since I saw her.’
‘She particularly mentioned you in her last letter. She hopes that married life suits you. She never married, you know, although she was the oldest of us.’
As Mrs Scott talked about her family, with an uneaten ham sandwich in her hand, she was looking not at her daughter but at Tom, who asked himself where this conversation was heading. Helen sometimes mentioned her aunt Julia Howlett in a fond but distant way.
‘Married life suits us very well, mother,’ said Helen.
‘Your aunt will be glad to hear it when I next write to her. She was wondering when she might see the happy couple.’
‘Aunt Julia lives in Durham, doesn’t she?’
‘Yes. They have a fine cathedral there, I believe.’
‘I don’t think we have any plans to travel so far north at the moment,’ said Tom, sensing that Mrs Scott had an axe to grind and that it would shortly emerge from its hiding place.
As a sign of her seriousness Mrs Scott replaced the ham sandwich, untouched, on the plate. She said, ‘To be honest, my dears, I was wondering whether you could make plans to travel so far north. There is a railway line from London. I don’t think the city of Durham is inside the polar regions.’
There was a pause. Tom was still recovering from Mrs Scott’s attempt at making a joke when Helen said, ‘Mother, why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind? It has been plain ever since you mentioned Aunt Julia that there’s something bothering you.’
‘Why yes, there is.’
‘What is it?’
‘I do not know whether it is because your aunt is unmarried but she never seems to have acquired — how shall I put this? — she has never acquired an inoculation against men.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that poor Julia never learned to close her ears to half — no, to three quarters — of what men are saying. Their stuff and nonsense if you’ll forgive me, Thomas. The poor thing has always had an open heart. An open heart and an open purse.’
Ah, thought Tom, here it comes. Money has been mentioned.
‘There was a missionary preacher a few years ago who was raising subscriptions for the unfortunate natives in some part of Africa, and your Aunt Julia was more than generous in giving him money,’ said Mrs Scott. ‘The fellow was no more a preacher than I am. He had one wife in Bradford and a second one in Newcastle, and probably other wives elsewhere. Certainly he had no intention of sending the money to Africa. He went to prison eventually, I am glad to say. It was reported in the papers. But Julia never saw her money again.’
‘And now another preacher has appeared?’
‘Not exactly. This time it is one of those spiritualists who claim to be in touch with the departed. A gentleman called Eustace Flask. Apparently he is making a name for himself in Yorkshire and Durham. And your aunt has fallen under his spell.’
‘You make him sound like a magician,’ said Tom.
‘I wish he were,’ said Mrs Scott. ‘At least magicians are honest. They make a virtue of their trickery.’
‘Where is the harm in Aunt Julia consulting a medium?’ said Helen. ‘Plenty of people visit mediums.’
‘No doubt; but they aren’t usually told to hand over their fortunes.’
Yes, here comes the money, thought Tom, helping himself to another piece of anchovy toast. Helen said, ‘I knew Aunt Julia was well-off but I didn’t know she had a fortune.’
‘I may exaggerate but not much. Julia has always been lucky with money even though she knows nothing about it. Indeed, I sometimes think she is lucky precisely because she is ignorant. Our father left each of us girls a small but adequate sum when he died but only Julia managed to make it grow by investing it in — oh I don’t know what — in the railways and mining stock and the like. And I believe she did no more than put a pin in a list in the newspaper! She puts her good fortune down to Providence. The result is that she is thoroughly comfortable and never has to lift a finger and I am glad for her because there is nothing worse than a crabbed old spinster living in poverty. But I almost wish she were poor because then she would not be preyed on by these tricksters!’
Mrs Scott took up the ham sandwich again and tore into it with as much vigour as if she were savaging the leg of a trickster. Helen glanced at Tom. Her glance said, this is serious. When her mother had swallowed the sandwich and regained a bit of control, she went on, ‘Now this Eustace Flask person has persuaded your Aunt Julia that he is in touch with the spirit of our late father, and that he is instructing Julia to treat Flask like a son. The son she might have had if she were married! The spirit says that Flask is to be provided with a very generous allowance. She has already given him a handful of small cheques. It is an outrage!’
‘Have some more tea, mother,’ said Helen and she fussed over the pot and strainer and milk jug so as to give Mrs Scott time to calm down.
Eventually, Mrs Scott said, ‘I am sorry, my dears, but I am very indignant over this. It is not so much that Julia is throwing away her money on a charlatan. It is that this wretched Flask person is invoking father in order to trick her. Helen, you can scarcely remember your Howlett grandfather, I suppose?’
‘Not much, I’m afraid. An upright gentleman with tickly whiskers.’
‘Yes, that will do. An upright gentleman. He would have had no time for these mediums and spiritualists if they had existed in his day. He would have called them humbugs. I can hear him saying the word now. So it is especially insulting that this wretch should invoke my father and pretend to be receiving instructions from him over on the other side. Thomas, would you mind bringing me that box?’
Tom went to a sideboard and brought back a little box which Mrs Scott unfolded on her lap to reveal a portable writing-block. Inside there was a flat baize-covered surface and holders for pens and an inkpot. Mrs Scott opened a compartment beneath the green baize and took out an envelope. From it she extracted a photograph which she passed to Helen who, after examining the picture for a few moments, handed it to Tom.
It was a small version of a studio portrait. A man sat in an armchair which was turned at a slight angle from the camera. He had a narrow face. Tom had the impression of very pale skin although that might have been the result of the studio lighting. It was difficult to get much of a sense of what he looked like because something had gone wrong with the exposure of the picture and everything appeared bleached. Nevertheless the man was smiling in welcome, as if to say: ‘Here I am. What is it that you require of me?’ His hands, resting limply on the arms of the chair, were long and the fingers adorned with rings.
‘That is Mr Eustace Flask,’ said Mrs Scott. ‘You can see how besotted my sister is by the way she describes him in the letter which came with that photograph. She talks about his delicate complexion and his noble brow and piercing stare. She talks of the face of an angel in human guise. I can’t see any of it myself.’
‘Why did she send you the picture?’ said Tom.
‘She is like a young girl who has fallen in love for the first time and wishes all the world to see her sweetheart. Yet she is in her seventies!’
‘What can we do?’ said Helen.
‘It is no good my writing to Julia to object to what she’s doing. Whatever I said she would only take it as more proof that she is right. Tom, you’re a lawyer. Is there any way this man could be stopped? Could he be prosecuted?’
Tom — who was always Tom and not Thomas to Mrs Scott when her guard was down — thought for a while. He said, ‘I don’t think so. As long as your sister Julia is in her right mind and provided she is not under any kind of duress, well, she is free to dispose of her property and goods as she wants. Do you know how much she has given him already?’
‘Not so much, I believe. This Flask individual seems to be very clever in his approach. He turns down the money for a first time and then a second time before accepting it, with reluctance, only when Julia tells him it is a contribution for the cause. The cause of spiritualism. He pretends to deny himself. She feels sorry for him as if he
