Читать книгу The Ghost Tree - Barbara Erskine - Страница 15

Finlay greeted Ruth with a crushing bear hug when he arrived next morning just after nine. He brought croissants and coffee in a Thermos. ‘I wasn’t sure whether your father would have proper coffee-making equipment,’ he said as he sat down at the kitchen table, the paper bags in front of him. He was a huge man, a larger-than-life character in every way, the same age as Rick, but as they had often joked, he appeared older and was far more worldly wise.

He surveyed her sternly. ‘My God, you look knackered, sweetheart.’

She reached in the cupboard for cups and plates. ‘I was up late doing family research. It’s a good distraction from what’s been going on here.’

He studied her for a moment. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your father. What a bum summer you’ve had. And now this ne’er-do-well turns up!’ He began to unpack their breakfast. ‘It broke my heart when I heard you and Rick had split up.’

When he finally allowed her to speak she told him the whole story as he sat devouring his croissant, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on her face.

‘Forgive me asking, but why did your mother stay with your father?’ he asked when she finished her story.

Ruth smiled sadly. ‘I keep asking myself that. I used to come up to Edinburgh and meet her sometimes secretly; he never knew. After she died I had no contact. He never tried to persuade me to come home.’

‘Till he needed you.’

‘Even then, it wasn’t him who called, it was Sally, next door. To be honest, he barely recognised me.’

They sat in silence for a few moments, then he leaned forward, seemingly re-energised. ‘Right, so, you want me to store some of your precious family stuff for you.’

She nodded slowly. ‘I don’t think it’s all that valuable in money terms; I suspect Timothy has already been through it and if there was anything worth having he’s probably taken it, but I feel a bit threatened, as if he would take things out of spite if he thought I valued them.’

He leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin in hand, and studied her again with disconcerting concentration. ‘I can take as much as you like. You have me to take care of you now.’ He grinned boyishly. ‘The problem will be to make sure he isn’t spying on you. If he thinks you are moving anything out, he might go to the courts. I don’t know the law on this. We should check with your Mr Reid. Is there any large furniture you want removed?’

‘No, most of the stuff I want to keep is really small. This writing box is the largest.’ It was lying on the kitchen table. ‘The rest is in suitcases and boxes. I’m still looking for the family portraits. I don’t know if they even exist still. Dad really hated them. Mum only brought them here because there was no one else for my grandparents to leave them to. I don’t care about the rest of the furniture, to be honest.’

‘Right.’ He stood up. ‘Why don’t we go out to my place now with a load. That writing box for a start. I could mend that for you. My car is just up the road. We’ll check he isn’t lurking. What sort of car does he have?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t even know if he has one.’

Finlay was back at once. ‘He’s parked right outside, or someone is, watching this house. Take a shifty out of the front window.’

It was Timothy. Cautiously she peered from behind the heavy curtain. He had made no attempt at being subtle; his hands were clamped on the steering wheel with every appearance of impatience. From time to time he glanced at his watch. ‘He looks as though he’s waiting for someone. No, he’s getting out of the car.’ She stepped back from the window. ‘He’s coming in.’

They heard the sound of a key in the lock. Timothy wrestled with it for a moment, before uttering an exclamation of impatience. Ruth opened her mouth to protest, but Finlay put his finger to his lips and gestured to her to remain out of sight.

He crept towards the door surprisingly quietly for such a large man and opened it. Timothy was standing there, a key in his hand. ‘Can I help you?’ Finlay stood four-square in the doorway.

‘She’s changed the lock!’ Timothy’s anger was barely contained. He didn’t ask who Finlay was and Finlay didn’t volunteer the information.

‘If by “she” you mean Ruth, you’re right. She has. On the advice of her solicitor. She suspected, rightly, obviously, that you had kept a key to her house when she asked you to leave.’

‘My house.’ Timothy was tight-lipped.

‘I doubt if any court in the land would substantiate that claim.’ Finlay folded his arms. ‘I understand you’ve removed articles belonging to Ruth’s mother which are her property and no part of her father’s inheritance; that is theft.’

Timothy stared at him, seemingly inarticulate with fury, then he turned and walked back to the car. Finlay closed the door. He put his hand in his pocket and brought out his phone. ‘Let me make a note of the licence number for future reference.’

Ruth was seething with anger. ‘The nasty sneaky man! What was he planning to do when he got in?’

‘I should have asked him.’ Finlay slipped his phone back into his pocket. ‘I think you should ring your Mr Reid. Tell him what happened. We have to keep the law tight on your side and at the same time warn him that your so-called brother is not playing cricket.’

Ruth stared at him, her mouth open. ‘My brother!’ she echoed in horror. ‘No!’

‘Well, half-brother. And almost certainly, no. He will have to take a DNA test to prove it.’

‘Of course.’ She frowned. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. That will prove he isn’t Dad’s son.’

There was a moment’s silence. ‘Or that he is.’

‘Right.’ Finlay glanced towards the window. ‘Let’s see if he’s gone. If he has, I’ll load up my car with anything you want to save right now before he has a chance to come back. You should also tell Reid that he went through your mother’s belongings, and damaged them, and you suspect he may have taken valuables away. For instance,’ he paused thoughtfully, ‘what about jewellery? Or family silver? Those pictures you mentioned. You showed me the ring and the little miniature, but what else did she have?’

‘There was a jewellery box. I can’t really remember what was in it, but it lived on her dressing table. I don’t think Dad made her lock that away, but she never wore anything out of it as far as I remember. That’s not up there.’ She gave a miserable little wail. ‘Oh, Finlay! If he has taken anything I’ll never know.’

‘We’ll sort it, Ruthie, don’t you fret.’

They packed up all the most sentimentally precious things and locked them in the boot of his car, then he helped her search her father’s desk for his chequebook and bank cards, things that it had not even occurred to her to look for, and which were conspicuous by their absence. He stood by while she rang the bank and reported their theft, then he took her out to lunch.

When he finally drove away that evening he tried to persuade her to go with him, but she refused.

He didn’t argue. ‘OK. Good for you. Stick to your guns and stay safe and call me at any time of day or night if you need me.’

She watched him drive away then closed the door and bolted it before wandering back towards the kitchen.

The house was dark and very quiet now that he had gone. As she reached for the light switches by the kitchen door she stopped suddenly in her tracks. She had heard a noise from the kitchen, she was sure of it. She held her breath, listening. Had Timothy managed to find a way in round the back? The silence stretched out and then she heard it again. It was another second before she realised with a flood of relief that it was the sound of the tap dripping slowly into the sink. She took a deep breath and brought her hand down heavily on the switches, lighting every corner of the kitchen. There was no one there.

Of course there was no one there.

For several seconds she stood still as slowly her heartbeat returned to normal then she walked over to the back door and checked the locks. No one could have come in that way. Picking up her laptop, she tucked it under her arm. The wave of loneliness and despair that swept over her was overwhelming.

In the end she turned off the lights and climbed wearily to her bedroom, wishing she had taken up Fin’s invitation and gone home with him. Below, in the darkness, the house was very empty. Clutching her teddy bear in her arms she climbed into bed and lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling.