“There’s no point in screaming at Betsy.” Michael came out of Mrs. Roberts’s office. “She obviously knows no more than the rest of us.”
“You’re all bloody useless,” Annabel snapped. “And you more so than the rest of them.”
“What do you want me to d-do?” Michael demanded patiently, blinking worriedly behind his glasses. “I’ve done everything I can. I’ve searched the grounds for you … .”
“Well, it’s not enough. Call the police. Get that policeman back here. He’s just spent the last two days annoying us. Now let’s see if he can do something useful for a change.”
“I don’t think you can call the police to report someone missing when it’s only been a few hours,” Michael said patiently.
“He went swimming and was swept away by the tide, I know it!” Annabel wailed hysterically.
“Just think for a moment,” Michael said in his low, reasonable voice. “It was low tide around five yesterday. There would have been no water in the estuary until almost dark. And he wouldn’t have walked out half a mile through the mud, would he?”
“Then where the devil is he?” Annabel demanded.
“It’s not going to help to upset yourself like this,” Michael said. “You’ve still got guests, haven’t you? You don’t want to scare them off.”
“Oh, bugger off, Michael, and don’t try to tell me what to do. You, of all people!” She changed direction and headed for the main staircase. “I’ve got a terrible headache. Bring me up some tea and don’t let anyone disturb me unless it’s good news!”
Betsy stood there, feeling embarrassed and awkward until Annabel disappeared. Michael gave Betsy a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that,” he said. “She flies off the handle rather easily.”
He began to walk toward the kitchens. Betsy walked with him, feeling great sympathy.
“Why do you let her talk to you like that?” Betsy whispered when they were alone in the passageway. “And why do you stay here if she’s so difficult? You’ve got an education, haven’t you? You speak posh and all that. I bet you could get a better job easily. With more money too.”
“That wouldn’t be hard,” Michael said, “as she pays me nothing except room and board.”
“Room and board? Why do you stay here then?”
Michael looked amused. “Didn’t anyone tell you? She’s my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“The resemblance isn’t exactly striking, is it? I’m the product of her first marriage, to Colonel James Hollister. She married him at eighteen—big society wedding. Had me then dumped us both and ran off with a race car driver.”
“Oh, it’s like something out of a film, isn’t it? Rather romantic.”
“Except if you happen to be me, left alone in that drafty old castle, brought up by a succession of nannies and a father who hardly said two words to me in his life. He died when I was fourteen. As soon as I finished school, I sought out my mother again. The race car driver had killed himself by that time and she was working her way through a string of young and gorgeous men, of whom Randy is the latest. Unfortunately she was stupid enough to marry him.”
“I wonder why—” Betsy began, then stopped.
“Why he married her?”
“Yes, I mean she’s not—”
“No spring chicken? Not the greatest catch? She has a title and this property, but not much else. If he thought she was rich, he’s been sadly disillusioned by now.”
“It’s strange that he should just hop it, though,” Betsy said.
“He wouldn’t be the first one who’s done a bunk on her,” Michael said. “As you’ve seen, she’s not the easiest person to live with. Very possessive. And naive too. Easily taken in. All this psychic stuff. It’s her latest craze. She’s already been through acupuncture and Buddhism and God knows what else. She thinks that Randy can see her future for her and help her straighten out her present as well.”
“Don’t you think he can?”
“If you want me honest opinion—” Michael put his head close to Betsy’s “—I think he’s a big phony. Why else do you think I’m here? I interrupted my university course so that I could keep an eye on her. What with Randy and that accountant of hers, I wanted to make sure that the property was here for me to inherit someday.” He smiled at Betsy. “But don’t let it worry you. It’s not your problem. I’ll see you later. I’ve got to take her a cup of tea, and a couple of tranquilizers, I expect—even though she claims to be a devotee of only natural healing these days.” He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of resignation, then went into the kitchen, leaving Betsy standing alone in the dark hallway.
There was a rumbling in the darkness. Evan came to consciousness and lay there, listening. Thunder? Outside his window the sky was still lit with stars. Not thunder then. When it came again, he recognized it for what it was—someone was pounding on his front door.
He grabbed his dressing gown and fumbled for the hall light, his heart racing.
He opened the door. A small, waiflike figure, wearing an anorak over what looked like a white flannel nightgown and fluffy pink slippers, was standing there.
“Betsy? What on earth’s the matter?” he asked.
