Читать книгу The Ghost Tree - Barbara Erskine - Страница 18

James Reid showed Ruth into his office and pulled out the chair for her. ‘I have news for you,’ he said as he sat down opposite her. ‘I am pretty sure your Mr Bradford is a fake.’ He smiled triumphantly. ‘I called the firm who appeared to have drawn up your father’s new will. Cautiously, you understand. There’s a certain procedure to be followed here. The name at the bottom of the will is that of a genuine solicitor and I asked to speak to her. It turns out she’s away on maternity leave. She wasn’t working when the will was drawn up and when contacted she had never heard of Timothy Bradford or your father, and neither, incidentally, had the young man who is filling in for her.’

‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Ruth couldn’t hold back her exclamation of relief. James Reid’s phone call that morning had filled her with foreboding.

He took off his spectacles and rubbed them thoughtfully with a handkerchief. ‘That would seem to be the end of your problem, but it leaves one or two unanswered questions. Firstly, is it possible that Bradford actually is your father’s son? And secondly, whether he is or not, if he has stolen property from your father’s house you would want it back.’ He put his glasses back on. ‘In the case of the first problem, you would probably be quite happy if he disappeared and was never seen again, thereby proving he is a liar. In the second, I’m sure you would prefer to retrieve your mother’s possessions if it’s at all possible before he disappears forever. Either way, he is almost certainly a thief and you are entitled to call in the police.’

Ruth slumped back in her chair. ‘How would we find him?’

‘There’s an address on the will. I doubt if it’s real, but it must provide some way of contacting him about his supposed inheritance.’ He looked down at the papers in front of him. ‘It’s my belief that we’re dealing here with a man of fairly limited intelligence. He must have realised that we would find out the will was a fake almost at once.’

‘But he didn’t know there was anyone to query it,’ Ruth pointed out.

‘That’s true,’ James said slowly. ‘So, what would you like me to do?’

‘How long have we got before he gets suspicious?’ Ruth leaned forward, her brow furrowed. ‘I want him to go away; I want him to leave me alone; but I don’t want to spook him into destroying anything he might have taken. To be honest, I really don’t know if he’s taken anything at all; that’s the problem. I remember my mother mentioning pictures and portraits and silver, and there’s nothing like that in the house. But it could have been my father who got rid of them.’ She looked at him helplessly.

‘But from what you told me, you suspect your father didn’t get rid of anything.’ His voice was gentle; thoughtful. ‘Not permanently. He merely locked it all away.’

She bit her lip sadly. ‘Mummy had a jewel box she kept on her dressing table. She never wore anything out of it, or opened it at all, as far as I know, except when I was very little. When Daddy was out, she sometimes let me try on her rings and bangles. There’s no sign of the box in the house.’

He made a note.

‘Where is it he says he lives? He did mention once that he had a sister. It could be her house.’

‘If I tell you, you won’t go there, will you? I don’t want you getting hurt.’ James reached for the file.

She smiled. ‘No, I won’t go there. I don’t want to spook him, as I said.’

He studied the letter in front of him. ‘He gives a mobile telephone number as his contact and an address in Muirhouse.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘North Edinburgh. Parts of it are pretty rough.’

‘As I said, I don’t plan on going there. So, what do I do now?’

‘That’s up to you. If our suspicions are correct, he’s committed – at the very least – fraud, forgery and theft. I think we should inform the police as soon as possible. They can then search his house.’

‘Can I think about it?’

He nodded. ‘Don’t take too long.’

The sound of the doorbell pealing through the empty house nearly gave Ruth heart failure. Sally Laidlaw was standing on the step, an umbrella open above her head. Rain was bouncing off it and splashing down onto the doorstep. ‘I wondered if you would like to come over and have a cup of tea. This house must be sorely cold and drear.’ Sally hesitated. ‘It’s warmer next door, and I’ve been baking.’ She peered past Ruth. ‘Has Timothy gone?’

The difference in the two houses was unimaginable. Sally’s was bright and warm and full of colour and in the background Ruth could hear a radio playing. Shedding her raincoat in the hall, she followed her hostess into the kitchen. It had the same high ceiling as Number 26, the same windows looking out onto a narrow garden, but there the similarity ended. The room was lined with pale blue fitments with granite tops; it was immaculate, the small central table adorned with an oilcloth covered with cornflowers and in the middle a jug full of Michaelmas daisies. ‘Sit you down.’ Sally indicated one of the two chairs by the table. She turned off the radio and switched on the kettle. ‘You’ll have a piece?’ She produced a sticky gingerbread loaf with a pat of butter, closely followed by a pot of tea. ‘I’m thinking your house must be very sad,’ she said at last as she sat down opposite Ruth. She glanced up. ‘Were you planning to keep it when the will is sorted?’

‘I don’t think so. You’re right: it is too sad. It needs someone new to do it up and bring some happiness back there,’ Ruth sighed.

‘Is Timothy coming back?’

‘I hope not.’ Ruth gave a tentative smile.

‘I didn’t take to him,’ Sally said succinctly.

‘No, neither did I. Can I ask you,’ Ruth leaned forward anxiously, ‘how long was he here, do you remember?’

‘Ages. He visited your father regularly, once a week or so to start with, then twice, then one day he moved in. I asked your father if he was happy with the arrangement and he said yes.’ She tightened her lips in obvious disapproval. ‘I don’t know if you remember, but I was good friends with your darling mother. I had no truck with the way your father treated her, I don’t mind telling you, but after she died I kept an eye on him, you know? For her sake.’

Ruth took a deep breath. ‘He barely recognised me when I arrived.’ She gave a sad little smile. ‘I don’t know if he told you anything about Timothy,’ she went on, ‘but a will has turned up claiming my father left him the house and everything in it.’ She scanned the other woman’s face, waiting for a reaction, and was reassured to see first disbelief then anger there.

‘He would have wanted no such thing.’ Sally scowled. ‘If he signed that will, he didn’t know what he was doing. It is my opinion the man forged his signature. He had enough time to practise!’

‘My solicitor thinks it’s a forgery, but of course he has to take it seriously until we can prove otherwise. Timothy is claiming,’ Ruth rushed on, ‘to be my father’s son.’

Sally stared at her in blank astonishment. ‘No.’ She repeated firmly, ‘No, absolutely not.’

‘Dad never mentioned that he had a by-blow somewhere?’

‘No. Your father worshipped your mother in his own way, Ruth. She was his first and only love. He was a bully and controlling and even cruel without realising it himself, but he would never have had another woman. If he had, he would have confessed to your mother on his knees and she would have told me, I am certain of it.’ She paused for several seconds, as if questioning her own statement. ‘Yes, she would. She talked to me often, Ruth. She had no one else to confide in.’ She leaned forward anxiously. ‘I’m not criticising you, dear, by saying that. I understand perfectly why you didn’t want to come here.’

Ruth said nothing.

‘Your mother and I were quite close,’ Sally went on at last. ‘I used to tell her to leave him but of course she wouldn’t. She loved him.’

‘You knew about his problems with her family background?’ Ruth said cautiously.

‘Oh yes.’ Sally laughed. ‘Most people are afraid of reds under the bed; in your father’s case it was the lords he found in her pedigree. It was ludicrous! They were so far back, she told me, and I met her parents, your grandparents, and they were lovely, I don’t have to tell you that. They were simple, kind folk. I liked them so much when they came to see Lucy. Anyone more unassuming you couldn’t find. But then he didn’t like their faith either; he had no time for God and your grandfather being a vicar and English was too much for him.’ She laughed. ‘It was all so illogical. The Erskines are a Scots family, obviously, but here was his wife, sounding as English as they come, from down south. But she was descended from this man who was Lord Chancellor. He pictured the man in the great wig, draped in golden robes, and he had him down in his head as a rampant Tory, though Lucy told me he was a Whig.’ She looked worried suddenly. ‘She had the second sight. You knew that about your mother, didn’t you?’

Ruth looked doubtful. ‘I knew she liked crystals and things. We didn’t talk about it much. Childish and naive and self-deluding were the words Daddy used when I was a child.’

‘He was afraid.’ Sally clamped her lips shut and there was a moment’s silence.

‘Do you believe in it all?’ Ruth asked cautiously.

‘I have never seen anything myself, but I believe she did. And his being scornful of her did nothing to stop it happening to her. She told me she used to summon the spirits when she was a child; she used to encourage all the things that happened to her. Then when she met your father she realised it wasn’t normal and she became terribly upset. She was torn in two.’

Ruth glanced across at her miserably. ‘I didn’t help. I didn’t understand what was happening, then when I was older I just began to hate him because he made her life a misery. I left home as soon as I could.’

‘Don’t feel guilty. It was a complex relationship. As a child, you couldn’t have hoped to understand what was happening.’

‘Can I ask you something?’ Ruth found she liked this woman and she trusted her. ‘In spite of all his threats, Daddy kept all my mother’s things. He locked them upstairs in the spare room cupboards. Her clothes and family items, which I thought he’d made her get rid of. I thought he’d burnt them all. That’s what he told me, but he hadn’t.’ She hesitated. ‘Timothy appears to have gone through it all pretty thoroughly. I think he has taken some of it away.’

‘Oh no!’

‘The family pictures are missing and the silver. I remember Mummy showing me spoons and forks, wrapped in soft black cloths; they had what I now realise were family crests on them. There were candlesticks. And there was her jewellery. I know the only thing Daddy ever gave her was her wedding ring, but she had pretty jewellery which she used to let me try on when I was a little girl. As far as I remember she never wore any of it, but it was still there when I left home.’

‘And now it’s gone?’

‘Yes.’

‘You should tell the police.’

‘I would, but I have no way of proving it was still there. I don’t suppose you saw it?’

Sally shook her head. ‘I never went upstairs. I very seldom went in at all, to be honest. She came here. I did drop in to see your father every now and then after she died, but we always went into the kitchen. He would give me a cup of Nescafé and we would chat for a wee bit and that was it. He was a very lonely man after she went. I’m not surprised to hear he kept her stuff, the old hypocrite.’ There was another pause. ‘She gave me some of her books to take care of, Ruth, and I have them still. She was afraid he would burn them after one particular quarrel they had, and I said she could put them in my spare room. She came round sometimes to read them. I kept them after she died. I wasn’t sure what to do with them, to be honest. They’re yours now. Books about the family and books about all sorts of New Age stuff.’

Ruth felt a surge of excitement. ‘I’d love to have them. Thank you.’

There was a pause.

‘Your father talked to her, you know. After she died. I heard him once or twice when I came over. I could hear his voice when I was going to ring the doorbell. I confess I listened at the letter box. He was talking, arguing, crying.’ For a moment Ruth thought Sally was going to cry herself. ‘And he didn’t just talk to Lucy.’

Ruth froze.

Sally wasn’t looking at her. She was studying her hands in her lap. ‘It seemed that he was talking to Lord Erskine. Lucy told me that he would sometimes appear to her. He was kind and understanding and gave her the courage to stay with Donald. Naturally,’ she looked up at last with a wan smile, ‘I assumed she was going off her head.’

‘You’re saying his ghost appeared to her?’ Ruth found her mouth had gone dry.

‘I’m not sure that he was what you or I would call a ghost. After all, why would he haunt a terraced house in Morningside? No. Lucy used to call him up, summon him, in some way; like summoning the spirits of the dead. You know?’

‘And you are telling me Daddy called him too?’ Ruth felt her whole body stiffen with disbelief. ‘That’s just not possible. He wouldn’t.’

‘No, I don’t suppose he did.’ Sally’s shoulders slumped. ‘Perhaps he did it without meaning to. Perhaps he called out to him in his anger or anguish or whatever at losing Lucy and never expected, or even imagined for a second, that the man would respond.’

Ruth smiled grimly. ‘That must have given him a shock.’

‘Your father never stopped loving your mother, my dear.’ Sally glanced at her, uncomfortable with the sudden show of emotion. ‘He was the kind of man who finds it difficult to express himself. He came from a generation and a background which was …’ she hesitated, ‘very buttoned up.’ She smiled. ‘I know he was cruel to your mother, and I know when he hated something he found it easier to say so than when he loved something. But he did love her.’

Later Ruth relayed the conversation to Harriet on the phone.

‘Your father talked to him!’ Harriet was incredulous. ‘Dear God! You have to try to speak to him yourself!’ Her excitement was instant and infectious. ‘You absolutely have to. What are you waiting for?’

‘That’s all very well for you to say!’ Ruth was once more seated at the kitchen table at Number 26. ‘The idea appals me. Oh no, Harriet. I don’t believe a word of it. Absolutely not.’

‘But we know he was a spirit guide! He knows how to talk to people. Have you read that book yet?’

‘No, I haven’t. And I don’t believe all this stuff. You know I don’t!’

‘Why not? He’s not going to hurt you, is he. You are his however-many-greats-granddaughter for goodness’ sake! Did that woman, your neighbour, actually hear his voice through the door?’

‘Yes. No.’ Ruth was becoming flustered. ‘Of course she didn’t! She heard Daddy talking to himself.’

‘Go on. Try. You have to.’

‘No!’

‘I dare you.’

‘What, and discuss philosophy? Politics?’

‘No. Or at least not straight away. Ask him if he minds talking to you. Tell him you’re interested in him. Do it now. Then call me back.’

The phone went dead.