“I haven’t told them anything about it. Mabel adores Polly – Polly goes into a kind of grown-up naughty sister routine when they’re together. Or, that is, she did. But she’s not here that often, so Mabel, having seen her on Sunday afternoon, won’t be aware that she’s not around for quite a while. By which time…” Lola sighed “…I will have worked out something suitable to tell her.”
“So, in spite of the tragedy – the double tragedy – life in the Le Bonnier household continues as normal.”
“As normal as I can make it. Though the real difficulty I’m having is with Ricky’s mum.”
“Flora?”
“Yes. She’s never been easy. Partly just the actressy temperament. And her disability doesn’t help. She can hardly use her hands at all now and Flora is…well, let’s say she’s not the kind of person to make light of adversity. But also she was always on the side of Ricky’s previous wife.”
“Polly’s mother?”
“No. God, no. She loathed that one, apparently. Regarded her as the evil seductress, luring Flora’s precious son into a life of substance abuse. Though, from things Ricky’s said, I think it was actually him leading Polly’s mother astray.”
“What was her name?”
“Vanessa.”
“But then you said there was another wife before Ricky married you?”
Lola smiled ruefully. “Mm. Always very generous with his favours, my husband. Yes, he married this woman called Christine, who nobly dragged him out of what the tabloids would call his ‘drugs hell’. Sanctimonious prig, from everything I’ve heard about her. Organized Ricky to within an inch of his life.”
“And I now know about all of Ricky’s wives, do I?” asked Jude.
“All you need to know is that I’m the fourth.” Lola grinned. “And last. He’s not going to get away from me.” There was a lot of love and determination in her words. “Anyway, Flora and Wife Number Three got on very well together – which I think may be part of the reason why the marriage broke up. Wife Number Three – I’m sorry, I do have great difficulty thinking of her as Christine – got Ricky back on to the path of righteousness. I think he was grateful to her for getting him off the drugs, but as time went on, he began to find the path of righteousness very boring, so the marriage sputtered to a halt.
“Anyway, Flora has never made any secret of the fact that she thinks I’m a very poor substitute for Wife Number Three. Still, she’s fond of the children, we don’t actually meet that often, and we’ve worked out a kind of modus vivendi, whereby we’re polite to each other and avoid open rows.”
“So what’s happened to her now?”
“She’s taking Polly’s death terribly hard. Seems to have fallen apart completely.”
“Were they very close?”
“Not in recent years, from what I can gather. Flora was apparently all over Polly when Ricky first married Vanessa. Glamorous actress with glamorous little girl accessory. And Polly wasn’t actually a grandchild, so she didn’t cast too unflattering a light on Flora’s age. But then adolescence kicked in with its usual destructive force, and from what Ricky’s said, Polly started to cast a more critical eye over her famous ‘grandmother’. So, having once been very close, they became…I don’t know what you’d say…estranged? I mean, Polly can still be polite in Flora’s company, though she doesn’t find being with her easy, so she tries to avoid it whenever possible and – ” Lola’s progress was stopped by a sudden thought. “That is, she
“You say Flora’s falling apart completely. What do you mean by that?”
“She’s staying in her room, doesn’t want to eat anything. And the times I’ve been in to see her, she’s actually been crying. That’s very unlike her. Flora was always of the ‘stiff upper lip’ persuasion. She’s an actress, she can disguise her emotions. So, anyway…” Lola sighed wearily – “that’s just another thing I have to cope with.”
Jude stopped pushing the swing for a moment and reached across to touch the girl’s arm. “And how are you coping?” she asked.
“With difficulty,” came the reply. And, as Mabel shouted for more pushing on her swing, tears welled up into her mother’s eyes.
¦
On the local television news bulletin that evening, as well as the normal Christmas Eve stories about the last-minute rush to the shops, there was a sobering update on the tragedy at Gallimaufry in Fethering. Forensic examination, the police announced, had revealed that the victim, Polly Le Bonnier, had not been killed by the fire. The cause of her death had been a single bullet wound.
An accident investigation had suddenly become a murder inquiry.
? The Shooting in the Shop ?
Thirteen
Of course, Christmas Day, when it happened, was fine. Stephen and family arrived soon after noon, as anticipated. Lily had slept most of the way in the car, but had woken before they reached Fethering, so was at her most wide-eyed and enchanting to greet her grandmother. Gaby said that Father Christmas had left a stocking for her that morning and, as was expected – indeed demanded – of someone her age, when opening its contents, Lily had been much more interested in the wrapping paper than she had been in the presents.
Needless to say, Carole had overcatered in every area of the lunch, particularly the alcohol. Stephen, as the designated driver, wasn’t drinking. While his mother saw the wisdom of this, particularly since he now had the additional responsibility of a baby in the car, she did wish he might just have had one glass to celebrate the occasion. But she didn’t put any pressure on him; she knew Stephen was doing the right thing. And Gaby, now that Lily had been weaned, was very much up for drinking a lot. So the two women managed to get through a bottle of champagne and most of a Chilean Chardonnay.
The food went down very well. Lily was tried on a bowl of specially pureed turkey and sprouts, but turned her nose up at it, preferring a familiar jar of her Lamb and Tasty Vegetables. But when they got to the mince pies, she was much more enthusiastic, nearly consuming a whole one – or at least spreading its contents over her face and high chair tray.
The adults enjoyed their food, though, and Gaby raised a glass with ‘compliments to the chef ‘. It was a long time since Carole had cooked such an elaborate meal. Going through the processes reminded her of dinner parties in her early married life, and of the satisfaction she had sometimes got from seeing David and Stephen well fed. The success of her Christmas lunch gave her confidence a boost. Carole Seddon was actually quite good at cooking. She ought to do more of it. Maybe give the odd dinner party, expand her Fethering social network…
The only threat to the harmony of the occasion was a phone call on the dot of one o’clock. Unable to think of anyone likely to ring on Christmas Day, Carole went to the hall and answered the phone in some bewilderment. She was not happy when she recognized the voice at the other end of the line as that of her ex-husband.
“I just…erm…rang to say ‘Happy Christmas’.”
“Happy Christmas,” his ex-wife replied shortly.
“And I gather that you’ve got the…erm…family with you…?”
“Stephen, Gaby and Lily are here, yes. Having drinks, we’re just about to have lunch.”
“Could I have a word with them?”
Carole couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why?”
“Because I want to wish them a Happy Christmas.”
“Stephen,” she called through to the sitting room, “your father wants to speak to you.”
“Can’t you bring the phone through here?”
For some reason she didn’t want to do that, she didn’t want David intruding into the closed magic circle around Lily. But she knew she was being unreasonable and took the handset through to Stephen.
He seemed to her to spend an unnecessarily long time chatting with his father. Also it was just chat, almost light-hearted banter, the kind of dialogue Stephen very rarely exchanged with her. Then David wanted to speak to Gaby, and he seemed to have plenty to say to her too. From what could be heard at the Fethering end, it sounded as though David was being flirtatious with his daughter-in-law. Carole didn’t know why she found the idea of her ex-husband being flirtatious quite so repellent.
