Читать книгу Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle - Kitty Neale - Страница 39

Tommy was a lot better on Tuesday when Amy called in to see him on her way home from work, and she was grateful that Celia Frost allowed her to stay a little longer, this visit extended to half an hour. Of course Celia insisted that Jeremy remain in Tommy’s room the whole time, but Amy found her less stiff and formal when they returned downstairs.

‘Amy, I think the antibiotics are helping. Thomas had a less restless night,’ Celia said.

‘Oh, that’s good.’

‘With Jeremy coming home so unexpectedly and Thomas being so ill, I’m afraid I’ve been rather lax in inviting you to come to join us for dinner on Christmas day.’

Amy was taken by surprise. She hadn’t expected this invitation and had already agreed to spend Christmas at Rose’s, hoping that Tommy would join them in the evening. ‘Err … thank you, but I’m afraid I’ve made other arrangements.’

‘Oh come on, Amy,’ cajoled Jeremy. ‘I don’t know what you and Tom had planned, but it’s only a week away and I doubt he’ll be fit enough to go out.’

‘Jeremy is right,’ Celia said. ‘If you can’t join us, I’m afraid Thomas will be very unhappy that he won’t be able to spend any time with you. Can’t you possibly change your arrangements?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose I could,’ Amy said, yet though she wanted to be with Tommy, she wasn’t so sure about spending Christmas day with his mother.

‘That’s settled then,’ Celia said brusquely.

‘I must go. My mother will be wondering where I am,’ Amy said at Celia’s sudden change of tone, glad of an excuse to leave.

Thankfully Jeremy didn’t press to walk her home this time, something he had taken to doing despite her initial protests. It didn’t take Amy long to walk down the hill and into her house, where she said as soon as she went in, ‘Mum, you’re not going to believe this, but Celia Frost has invited me to join them for Christmas dinner.’

‘But you’ve already agreed to come with us to Rose’s.’

‘I know, but do you think she’ll mind if I bow out?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. Rose is easy-going and takes it as it comes, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. We’ve always spent Christmas together, but now you’re getting married I suppose this is the shape of things to come. How do you feel about it, Stan?’

‘It’s all right with me.’

‘All right, Amy, go to Celia Frost’s then,’ Phyllis said, although she still sounded a bit peeved. ‘I’ve been keeping your dinner hot so get changed. If you don’t eat it soon it’ll be ruined.’

Amy was soon sitting at the table, thoughtful as she said to her mother, ‘It’s odd really. Celia Frost always seems to resent any time that Tommy spends with me, so I don’t know what made her invite me to dinner on Christmas day.’

‘It’s obvious. Celia has got her other son home again, so it’s made her less clingy and possessive of Tommy.’

‘Of course, I hadn’t thought of that,’ Amy said. She was still nervous in Jeremy’s company, but if his being there softened Celia’s attitude towards her, Amy wanted him to stay.

Mabel was seething. She’d told Phyllis about Carol, proving her point that the girl was a tart, but Phyllis refused to believe it and all she’d got in return was a mouthful of abuse. She’d tried to tell Phyllis that she was just trying to protect Amy from having such an unsuitable friend, yet it hadn’t made any difference, she’d still been shown the door. Well that was it; Phyllis could stew in her own juice from now on and Rose was welcome to her.

Jack was on a late shift and wouldn’t be home until nine that evening, so with nothing else to do Mabel was doing her best to look out of her window, hating the dark, winter evenings. The scaffolding obscured her view, and seeing as the work was finished she was annoyed that it was still up. There was a lack of street light too, as one of the lamps was out, but nevertheless Mabel saw someone lurking about next door. The Coles’ house was empty, so it seemed a bit suspicious to Mabel, but unable to get a better view she had no choice but to go to her front door. Opening it cautiously Mabel peered round it, surprised to see a policeman, bent double as he looked through the letterbox. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ she called. ‘That house is empty.’

The copper stood up, put his helmet back on and walked up to her. ‘I’m looking for any relatives of a Mr Frank Cole.’

‘You won’t find any in there,’ Mabel said. ‘His sons and his daughter live someone along Lavender Hill.’

‘Do you have their address?’

‘No, but you can try next door,’ Mabel said, indicating Phyllis’s house.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Hold on, what has Frank Cole done now?’ Mabel called.

She was ignored and as the copper knocked on Phyllis’s door, Mabel swiftly closed hers. Phyllis had called her a nasty-minded, malicious gossip and Mabel wasn’t going to give her more ammunition. Instead she rushed back to the living room and pressed her ear to the wall. If Phyllis let the copper in, she might find out why he wanted to find Frank’s relatives.

When the policeman left, Carol found her feelings were all over the place. He was dead! She had hated him; loathed what he tried to do to her, but other memories now flooded her mind. Childhood ones, happy ones; of being spoiled, of laughter when they were all together as a family. The man she remembered from those times had been different, a good man and not the stinking drunk who had come into her bedroom …

‘I just can’t take it in,’ Dave said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Dead, found in the filthy basement of a bombed-out building, and now they want us to identify him.’

‘I’m not looking forward to it,’ Paul said, ‘but according to that copper, if they hadn’t found an old letter in Dad’s pocket with his name and address on it, he might have remained unknown.’

‘Yeah,’ Dave said bitterly, ‘and there was no sign of foul play. He was just another frozen, drunken down and out that nobody gives a shit about.’

‘Shut up!’ Paul shouted. ‘I feel bad enough that I didn’t try to find him, without you rubbing it in.’

‘I’m not trying to rub it in,’ Dave argued. ‘I feel rotten about it too, but if you remember, after finding out what he did to Carol, neither of us wanted anything to do with him.’

‘He was still our dad!’ Paul yelled.

Carol knew that Paul was more sensitive than Dave and this was hitting him badly, his grief manifesting in anger. ‘I … I suppose you think I should’ve given him another chance,’ she said, tears welling in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Perhaps it was seeing her distress, Carol didn’t know, but the anger seemed to drain from Paul as he shook his head. ‘No, we couldn’t risk that, but if me and Dave had looked for him, maybe we could’ve got him off the booze and back on his feet.’

‘It’s no good dwelling on if’s and maybe’s,’ Dave said. ‘We’ve got to live with the choices we made, and anyway, we weren’t Dad’s keepers.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Paul agreed, and as though grateful to find things to assuage his guilt he added, ‘If anything, everything went pear-shaped for Dad when Mum left him.’

‘I still can’t make sense of why she walked out, nor why we haven’t heard from her since,’ Dave mused. ‘We didn’t try to find Dad, but we could try looking for her.’

‘Let’s get Dad sorted out first,’ Paul said. ‘We’ve got to identify him and then we’ve got to collect his belongings from the police station.’

‘What’s the point? All he probably had were the stinking clothes he was found in.’

‘I know, but there might be some small thing we’d like to keep, perhaps his wedding ring.’

‘He probably flogged it for booze ages ago,’ Dave said.

‘Maybe, but it might be something he hung on to, and then there’s the funeral to arrange.’

‘Mum should be there,’ Dave argued.

Paul heaved a sigh. ‘I doubt we’d find her in time … if at all.’

‘We should still give it a try.’

‘All right, but we can’t do anything tonight. Not only that, the copper said we should go to the morgue in the morning so before we do anything else, we’ll need to get that over with first.’

Carol closed her eyes against her brother’s words. Morgue, they were going to the morgue, where in her imagination they would see her father laid out on a cold slab. It hit her then. Her dad was dead. She began to cry – not for the man who had almost raped her – but for the father she had loved.