The Skeleton in the Closet Page 2

  “Come in,” said Fell, thinking, no lace curtains ever again.

  The vicar came in and sat down. He was wearing a scarlet shell suit and trainers. He had very big feet. People with very big feet should not wear trainers, thought Fell, because those feet dominated the small room.

  “My boy,” began the vicar, who was about the same age as Fell, “this is a dark day for you.”

  “Indeed,” murmured Fell.

  “I gather the undertakers, Taylor and Fenwick, have all the arrangements?”

  “Yes, the lawyer is kindly attending to everything.”

  “I will gladly officiate. Are there any special hymns you would like?”

  “I would like ‘To Be a Pilgrim,” the Twenty-third Psalm, and ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’. ‘

  The vicar frowned. “I feel that ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ is a teensy bit militant.”

  Fell was about to back down, but suddenly found himself saying calmly, “Those are the hymns Mother would have wanted. And the burial service from the old Book of Common Prayer.”

  “But we must move with the times and – ”

  “The old Book of Common Prayer. I – I mean Mother – preferred it.”

  “Very well,” said the vicar reluctantly.

  After the vicar had left, Fell suddenly wanted to get out of the house. He decided to go for a walk. The river Buss bisected the town, flowing between the old castle gardens. Buss Castle had been a second home in medieval times of one of the Earls of Warwick. It was now owned by the National Trust. Its thick walls plunged straight down into the glassy waters of the river, where launches and barges ploughed up and down and willow trees trailed their new leaves in the water.

  The castle gardens were almost deserted. Fell sat down on a bench by the river as two swans cruised past. I’m like that, thought Fell. Serene on the top and the little paddles of my brain working furiously underneath. Why all that cash?

  His parents had surely been law-abiding – strictly so. His father had always been complaining about layabouts and drug takers. Why not put the money in the bank? Had it been hidden from the tax man? But why? If it had been legally come by…

  His busy thoughts turned to Maggie. It would be nice to have a confidante. Maggie was kind and trustworthy. Fell was not nervous in her presence, because he did not see her as a woman. In his many fantasies, women were always tall and beautiful and long-legged. Perhaps he might have asked a woman out in the past, but that would have meant asking his parents for the money to entertain her and then facing endless questions. And the fact was that both his dumpy little parents had possessed very powerful and domineering personalities. His father had given up beating him when he was twelve, but Fell could still remember the terror he had experienced when his mother would utter those dreaded words, “Your father will deal with you when he gets home.” Then the waiting to endure the beating on the bare backside with his father’s leather belt. He had never spoken to anyone about those beatings and had assumed for a long time after they had stopped that they were all part of parenting.

  He rose and walked up the main street. So many shops containing so many things he could now buy if he wanted. He stood outside a men’s outfitter’s and then stared at his dim reflection in the shop window. His suit was shabby and the material cheap.

  Again he thought of the money. He should really share it with the few relatives he had. But he would put it off until the funeral.

  He bought himself fish and chips, went home and switched on the television set and lost himself in the moving coloured pictures until midnight.

  ♦

  He rose early next morning and with a new feeling of adventure went to the local Marks & Spencer and bought a blazer, trousers, striped shirt and silk tie. Then he went to the jeweller’s. He would need to buy a ring for Maggie. At first as he looked at the engagement rings, he thought that anything simple might do. But at last he shook his head and refused them all. Maggie was doing him a great favour. Why not buy her a ring that she could keep, something more original?

  He went into an antique shop where he knew they had a case of jewellery. With great care he finally selected a Victorian heavy gold ring, with a large square-cut emerald. The price made his eyelids blink rapidly. He paid cash, but with a dark little worm of doubt again plaguing his brain. Where had the money come from? He banished the thought and retired home and changed into his new clothes. He was beginning to feel like a totally different person.

  Maggie was nervously waiting outside the striped awning of the restaurant, which was in an old Georgian mansion beside the river in the castle gardens. Fell would never know what pains Maggie had gone to with her appearance. She was wearing a long biscuit-coloured linen skirt, a tailored jacket and a lemon silk blouse. Fell only saw reassuringly familiar Maggie.

  They went into the restaurant. The restaurant, although very grand, did not intimidate Fell. He was armoured in his new clothes. He had left shabby Fell behind.

  They were given a table by the French windows which opened onto the terrace.

  “You order for me,” whispered Maggie. “I eat anything.”

  Fell ordered a simple meal of cucumber soup, followed by poached salmon and salad, and then with great daring also ordered a bottle of champagne. When the waiter had gone off with his order, he produced the jeweller’s box and handed it to Maggie. “It’s for you,” he said. “You may as well look the part.”

  Maggie opened the box. The emerald blazed up at her. She caught her breath. She was suddenly intensely aware of everything, of the sunlight sparkling off the cutlery, of the peppery smell of the geraniums in pots on the terrace, of the chuckling sound of the river.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Is it real?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’ll give it back to you.”

  “No, don’t do that. I wanted to give you something special, something you could keep.”

  Maggie gave a shaky laugh. “It matches my eyes.”

  Fell looked at her, puzzled.

  “See?” She removed her heavy glasses. Her eyes were very large and green with flecks of gold.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” said Fell. “You should wear contact lenses.”

  Those eyes filled with tears. “What’s the matter?” asked Fell quickly.

  Maggie took out a handkerchief and dried her eyes and put her glasses firmly back on. “I’m just tired, Fell, that’s all. You know what it’s like. The last customers didn’t leave until one in the morning. Now, first I had to tell my mother about our engagement. She doesn’t know it’s a pretend engagement and wants to meet you. I told her you were too grief-stricken, and then afterwards I can tell her it’s all off.”

  “I hate making you lie for me.”

  “I always lie to my mother anyway. It’s a form of self-protection. My father’s dead. Mother always says I’ll never get a man, so from time to time I invent a boyfriend. They never jilt me, you know, they either die or go abroad. Anyway, enough about me. What do you want to talk to me about?”

  Fell had meant to tell her only about the inheritance. But somehow, under her sympathetic eyes, he found himself beginning at the beginning. He told her everything – about his childhood, about his relief at his mother’s death, about his guilt, and about the mysterious money in the cash box. He ended by saying, “I can’t understand why I didn’t tell the relatives about the money I’d been left or offer to give them some. I don’t know their financial circumstances. My parents never talked about them. They never really talked much about anything. I only know I want all the money for myself. Is that greedy?”

  “No, it’s your inheritance. You’ll never satisfy them. You’ll simply cause a lot of envy and upset. We’ll talk to them at the funeral and find out if any of them need money. If they don’t, you’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s yours, so keep it.”

  “I’m worried about that fifty thousand. I’ve already started to make a hole in it.”

  “I can’t
believe it’s anything illegal. Was there anything else in the desk to give you a clue?”

  “I didn’t look further.”

  “I’ll come back with you after lunch. I took the day off. I’ll need to see your kitchen because I’ll need to prepare some food for after the funeral.”

  “I know,” said Fell. “I could hire a catering firm.”

  “Might give them the idea you do have money. Do you have a microwave?”

  “No, but I can buy one.”

  “We can buy lots of savouries and things from Marks and I can heat them up. Leave it to me. So what will you do? Travel?”

  “I thought about that. But I don’t want to see all that money drain away. Maybe I’ll start some sort of business. Maybe a restaurant.”

  “A restaurant’s a bit too much like what you’ve been doing for most of your life.”

  Fell smiled lazily at her, enjoying the unaccustomed effect of half a bottle of champagne and the heady relief of having been able to talk about himself at length with another human being. “What would you do, Maggie, if the money was yours?”

  “I’m like you. Books are my solace, my friends. I would open a little bookshop with a coffee bar and a few tables at the back. I would have poetry readings, things like that. Oh, I’m being silly.”

  “We could do it!” said Fell, suddenly excited.

  “We?” said Maggie faintly.

  “Maybe you want to keep on at the hotel.”

  “God, no. Could we actually do it?”

  “Why not?” Fell spread his arms. “There’s so much we can do. Maggie, you’ve listened and listened to me. I know nothing about your life. Tell me.”

  “I’m trapped a bit like you were,” said Maggie, “but not because my mother’s possessive – far from it – but out of fear of living, fear of taking risks, lack of money. I’ve two older sisters – they’re married. Mum has various men friends, who sometimes stay the night. She’s got a sharp tongue. She runs me down a bit.”

  Perhaps it was the champagne or Maggie’s worried and suddenly depressed face that made Fell say, “Move in with me.”

  She stared at him.

  “Well, why not? It’s a new century. We’re friends.”

  “I’m beginning to feel as if I’ve been run over by a truck,” said Maggie.

  “We’ll respect each other’s space,” said Fell. “I’ve promised my aunt Agnes all the furniture from the house. I want new stuff, light and airy.”

  “And everything clean,” breathed Maggie.

  “Oh, it’s always been clean.”

  “My home’s a tip. I keep my own room clean, but Mum has the rest of the place in a mess. I try clearing up after her, but lately I’ve given it up as a bad job.”

  “So why don’t you just give up your job at the hotel?”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. I need you, Maggie.”

  “Is this a real proposal?” asked Maggie with a light laugh.

  Suddenly the old Fell was looking at her, his face wary and tight and set.

  “I was only joking, Fell,” said Maggie quickly. “We’re friends, right? No funny business. Just friends.”

  Fell looked relieved. “Just friends.”

  “I’ll go and powder my nose.”

  Maggie went through to the ladies’ room and leaned against the handbasin. “The Maggies of this world,” she told her reflection severely, “must take what they can get.”

  But a dry sob like that of a hurt child escaped her lips. She firmly reapplied her make-up and went back to join Fell.

  ♦

  It turned out that Maggie owned a small car, something Fell had not known before. She went home to fetch it, asking Fell to wait for her. It was too soon for him to meet her mother.

  When Maggie returned with a suitcase of clothes they went out and bought a microwave and then loaded up the car with savouries from Marks.

  As they unloaded the stuff in the kitchen, Fell said ruefully, “I’ll need to buy a new fridge. There’s hardly room in this little thing for all the stuff.”

  They had also bought bottles of various drinks and glasses. Maggie bustled about, examining everything. “How many relatives do you have?” she asked.

  “Very few,” said Fell. “There’s Aunt Agnes; she’s a widow. Then there’s Cousin Tom and my other cousin, Barbara, and her husband, Fred. That’s all.”

  “I hope they’re hungry. We’ve bought rather a lot.”

  “We could eat some of it tonight and open a bottle of wine.”

  “Right. Which room shall I take?”

  “I’ll take my parents’ room and you can have mine. What did your mother say?”

  Maggie blushed. “She was out, so I left a note.”

  “She’ll be round here any minute.”

  “I didn’t tell her where I was going. I said I would phone her.”

  “Better get it over with,” said Fell. “The phone’s over there.”

  “Is that the famous desk?”

  “Yes. Phone first and then we’ll take a proper look through it.”

  Maggie phoned her mother. The conversation seemed to be very one-sided, with Maggie saying, “But…well, you see, it all happened suddenly. But…” At last she replaced the receiver. “She’s furious. She says she needs my rent.”

  “Will she manage?”

  “Of course she will. I’ll need to get some sort of job, Fell. I can’t live off you.”

  “Oh, I’ll arrange money for you,” said Fell expansively. “We’ll be starting our business soon. I mean, just help yourself to what you need out of the cash box.”

  “Desk?”

  “Yes, let’s have a look.”

  Fell sorted out bank books and statements. “Nothing odd here,” said Maggie. “Except for one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Well, since you started work, your pay has been deposited each week. But there are no withdrawals. I mean they would have to draw money for bills, council tax, electricity, gas, things like that. There’s not one withdrawal. And you said they gave you an allowance.”

  “That’s odd. You would have thought the tax people would have been after them.”

  “Probably saw no reason to. Your tax was deducted from your earnings. What did they live on?”

  “There must have been more money, much more than the money in the cash box.”

  “Is it exactly fifty thousand?”

  Fell opened the cash box. “Just under. It’s in bundles of twenties, see? I just counted the bundles.” He flicked through them.

  “Maybe they had rich relatives.”

  “I don’t know of any. They scrimped and saved. We never even had holidays.”

  “There must be something in your past to explain it. Is there a photo album anywhere?”

  “I don’t remember seeing one.”

  “There aren’t even any wedding or baby photos anywhere,” said Maggie, looking around the dingy room.

  “Let’s look in my mother’s room. I haven’t had the heart to pack anything up.”

  They went up the stairs. The bedroom was as dark as the rest of the house. It was dominated by a large double bed. There was a dressing table by the window, with a hard chair in front of it. The fireplace had been blocked up. An Edwardian wardrobe took up most of one wall.

  Fell opened the wardrobe. His mother had possessed few clothes. A wave of mothball smell made him wrinkle his nose. On the shelf above the hanging clothes were various hats. “We should get boxes after the funeral and pack all this up,” said Maggie. “Take it all round to Oxfam.”

  “There’s something behind the hats,” said Fell, feeling with his fingers. He pulled out an old photo album.

  He took it over to the bed. Maggie sat down beside him as he opened it. There was a wedding photograph. To his surprise, his mother looked small and dainty and pretty. His father was stiff in new clothes and sported a large walrus moustache. “Why did they never show me this?” wondered Fell. “Here�
��s another one of Dad at work. There’s the signal box.”

  He had a sudden sharp memory of walking with his mother across the railway tracks to the signal box one hot summer’s day. Willow herb grew along the verges by the railway lines and the air was redolent with the railway smell of soot and creosote.

  There was a photo of his father standing on the platform with other railway workers. Then there was a photo of a couple having tea on the lawn outside a large mansion. They were an elderly, aristocratic-looking pair.

  “Who are they? And where’s that?” asked Maggie.

  “I don’t know,” said Fell, bewildered.

  There were various other photographs of trains and railway workers, and then nothing more.

  “There isn’t a photograph of you,” exclaimed Maggie. “How very strange.”

  “I’ll ask Aunt Agnes tomorrow if she’s got any photos. Let’s leave all this, Maggie. I’ve had enough for one day.”

  They spent the rest of the evening sharing a bottle of wine and watching television.

  Then Fell looked out clean sheets and made up the bed for himself in his mother’s room and changed the bed in his own room for Maggie.

  “I hope you’ll be all right,” he said awkwardly.

  “I’ll be fine,” said Maggie.

  Fell lay awake for a long time. He tried to remember some affection in his childhood, some hugs and kisses, but could recall none. He prayed for the repose of his mother’s soul and then asked forgiveness because he could not mourn her passing. Maggie also lay awake for a long time, bewildered at the change in her circumstances. Had she been in love with Fell for a long time? He was the only person who had taken pains to be kind to her. Maggie had taken to reading adventure and spy stories so that they could have more to talk about in the hotel dining room. And yet she had never thought of having sex with him. When she was younger, she had experienced two brief flings, one in the back of a car with a businessman, the other with a wine salesman. Both episodes had left her feeling dirty and diminished. Now all she could think of was how much she really wanted Fell to love her and for him to make love to her. Perhaps they would grow together. But she knew in her bones that it would be very easy to frighten him off.