Читать книгу The Witness at the Wedding - Simon Brett - Страница 9

‘She’s very strong-willed.’ Stephen spoke with some puzzlement, as though still coming to terms with various unexpected elements in his fiancée’s personality. ‘I’m slowly learning not to argue when she’s clear about what she wants to do.’

‘You’re quite strong-willed too.’ Carole thought back to childhood confrontations when neither she nor her son had been willing to budge an inch.

‘Yes.’ He took it both as a compliment and an unarguable truth. ‘That’s why we’re right for each other.’ This too was a confident statement of fact.

They were sitting over lunch in the dining room of High Tor. Which, Carole realized, reflected a change in their relations. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cooked for her son. University vacations, it must have been. When he started working, he had distanced himself. Or perhaps that had happened when she moved down to Fethering. The timing was all tied in with her divorce from David. Without either of them commenting on what was happening, Stephen had redrawn the parameters of his relationship with his mother. From that time on, they had always met on neutral ground, in pubs and restaurants, as if he was spelling out to her that the old family intimacy could never be re-established.

But the arrival of Gaby had changed that. Inviting them both to Sunday lunch at High Tor had not seemed incongruous – in fact, Carole had relished the idea and looked forward to reminding herself of her old skills with joint of beef, Yorkshire pudding and all the trimmings.

Except, of course, Gaby wasn’t there. She was in Pimlico, assessing the loss and damage caused by her burglary. And that task was one which, very insistently, she had wanted to do on her own. That was the evidence of her strong will to which Stephen had referred.

Even in Gaby’s absence, Carole still felt the lunch represented an advance, a changed understanding between herself and her son. She had forgotten how rewarding he was to feed, how much he relished his food, how he’d always been in thrall to her roast potatoes. Carole felt closer to Stephen than she had for years.

‘And I gather the damage to the flat wasn’t too bad?’ she asked. Stephen had spent a long time on the phone to Gaby that morning, but not yet brought Carole up to date on the burglary.

‘No. Whoever it was smashed a kitchen window to get in, and managed to immobilize the alarm. He – one assumes it was a “he” – was a real professional.’

‘And have they lost a lot of stuff?’

‘Hardly anything.’ Rather than pleasing Stephen, this fact seemed to trouble him. ‘Not even too much of a mess. Gaby reckoned everything in the rooms she and Jenny share had been gone through, but then replaced more or less exactly where it should be.’

‘They were lucky.’

‘Yes . . .’ But again her son didn’t sound convinced. ‘The thing that worries Gaby . . .’ he hesitated before sharing the confidence ‘. . . is that whoever it was didn’t even go into Jenny’s room.’

‘How can they be sure?’

‘Jenny’s a bit obsessed by security. She always keeps her door firmly locked. There had been no attempt to force it.’

‘Maybe the burglar had skeleton keys, like they do in crime novels?’

‘Well, if he did, he didn’t use them. Nothing of Jenny’s had been touched. Maybe he was just put off by the locked door.’

‘Is that just Gaby and Jenny’s view, or do the police agree?’

Stephen grimaced. ‘They haven’t informed the police.’

‘What?’ His words were an affront to all Carole had learnt during her long career in the Home Office. ‘But they have to tell the police! There’s been a break-in at their flat. Even if they haven’t suffered too badly, the police might still collect evidence to tie in with other crimes.’

‘I used that argument too. All the obvious arguments.’ Stephen shrugged weakly. ‘As I said, Gaby’s very strong-willed.’

Carole shook her head in disbelief, and took a sip from the rather nice Argentinian Merlot she’d bought from Sainsbury’s specially. ‘But it’s – well, I just don’t understand. Is Gaby saying that absolutely nothing has been taken?’

‘She’s not sure. She hasn’t had time to go through everything in proper detail. But, as of this moment, she can’t see anything that’s missing.’

‘Which would imply – what? That the burglar lost his nerve? That he was disturbed while he was in the middle of the job?’

Stephen smiled grimly. ‘Or that he was looking for something specific?’

His mother nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes. Has Gaby any idea what that something might have been?’

‘Well, if she has, she’s not telling me.’ He didn’t sound as though this was an entirely preposterous suggestion. ‘There are still areas of Gaby’s life, things about which she’s very secretive and—’ He seemed to realize that he was close to betraying confidences, and lightened his tone. ‘Still, I guess that’s true of all of us, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Carole knew it was certainly true of her. But if Stephen had hoped that his words would end the subject, he was mistaken. ‘So had all of Gaby’s belongings been turned over, or did the burglar concentrate on one specific area?’

She could see the calculation pass through her son’s mind, as he assessed whether this information could be released. He concluded that it could do no harm.

‘He seemed to be interested in her personal files. Those had been put back in place, but not quite in the right order. You know, things like her passport, birth certificate, address book, health insurance details, tax records, that kind of stuff.’

‘But he didn’t take any of them?’

‘Not so far as she could tell, no.’

Carole was silent. They had both finished eating, but she resisted her normal knee-jerk reaction to clear the plates immediately. The current subject had not yet been exhausted.

‘Stephen – do you remember, when you and Gaby and I met up in the Crown and Anchor a few weeks back?’

‘Mm.’

‘You said that there was a history of murder in her family.’

His pale face reddened and, behind their rimless glasses, his eyes blinked.

‘Yes, I remember. I shouldn’t have said that. Gaby really took me to task for it afterwards.’

‘But you did say it, Stephen. And presumably you said it for some reason. You didn’t just make it up?’

‘No.’ He realized he had to make some kind of explanation. ‘Once again, I’m afraid I misjudged Gaby’s reaction. We’d been talking about murder cases, you remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I just thought, ooh, there’s this story Gaby once mentioned and . . . I didn’t realize that she’d told me in confidence.’

‘So what was it? One of her family got murdered?’

‘No. It was a school friend of her mother’s. I don’t know the details. Just that it was before Marie had married Howard and it all got involved with other things—’

‘Other things?’

‘Other things that were happening to the family. It was a dreadful time for them, I gather. Gaby’s grandfather died round then – before she was born, so she never met him. And then her grandmother – Grand’mère they call her – had what seems to have been a major breakdown.’

‘Breakdown?’ Carole echoed coldly. With her deeply neurotic mother and now a grandmother who’d had a ‘breakdown’, perhaps Gaby’s own stability could not be guaranteed. She seemed fine, but Carole Seddon was the kind of neurotic who had a great fear of mental illness. ‘Do you know any more details, Stephen?’

‘No, that’s it, really.’

‘But you don’t know the name of the girl who was murdered?’ He shook his head. ‘Or, come to that, who murdered her?’ Another shake. ‘Or, indeed, whether anyone was ever caught for the crime?’

‘I do know that. Gaby said they got the man who did it.’

‘But that’s all she said?’

‘Afraid so. Sometimes I think I’m very insensitive, Mum.’ He would never know how much that carelessly dropped ‘Mum’ meant to her. ‘I think I know Gaby, and I think I know how she’ll react to things, and then I do something crass like that – mentioning this murder that she’d only told me about in confidence.’

‘Don’t worry. Nobody knows anything about their partner when they get married. Finding out about each other is both one of the great pleasures – and one of the great pains – of marriage.’

Stephen looked at her. She knew he wanted to ask whether she’d found that when she’d been married to his father, but fortunately Stephen’s recent awareness of his own occasional insensitivity stopped the words from coming out.

‘Hm.’ Carole reached across to pick up his plate. ‘I’ve made a treacle tart for pudding.’

‘Ooh, my favourite.’ Stephen sounded about five.

His mother paused for a moment in her clearing. ‘It must be horrible for Gaby – feeling that someone’s targeting her, that someone has an unhealthy interest in her.’

‘Yes. She was trying to sound bouncy this morning on the phone, but it’s clearly got to her.’

‘And you’ve absolutely no idea what the reason could be? Who the intruder could be?’

‘No.’ Stephen was silent, again weighing up how much he should tell. Again, he came down on the side of further revelation. ‘Look, I may as well tell you this, because you’re going to find out sooner or later. I don’t know whether it’s got anything to do with the burglary, but whenever anything odd happens in Gaby’s family—’

‘By “odd” you mean “criminal”?’

‘Possibly. The fact is that her brother – Phil – well, he’s been in trouble with the police a few times.’

‘What kind of stuff?’

‘Nothing major. Petty theft. Stealing cars. I think he has a bit of a drug habit.’ Stephen blushed again. ‘I feel guilty saying this, but Gaby did say I should. She said better you know a bit about Phil before you actually meet him.’

‘I see. Have you met him?’

‘Yes, and he’s a perfectly nice lad. A bit brash, maybe, and he looks a bit of a thug, but he’s amiable enough. The story is that since he’s got the warehouse job in Hoddesdon, he’s a changed character, back on the straight and narrow, but . . . well, he does have this history.’

Suddenly Stephen looked very vulnerable, a sight Carole had not seen since he was a small boy. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘What are you apologizing for?’

‘Involving you in this. It’s Gaby I’m marrying, not her family.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Stephen. It’s not a problem. Gaby’s adorable. She’s absolutely right for you. And all families have their secrets and black sheep and what have you. I mean, Howard and Marie probably think I’m rather odd.’

‘Hm . . . No, I’m sure they don’t.’ Carole wouldn’t have minded if he’d come in a bit quicker with that reassurance.

‘So . . . Gaby has a brother who’s occasionally been on the wrong side of the law. That’s not her fault. I’m sure,’ Carole went on, her confidence more for Stephen’s benefit than because she felt it, ‘that I’ll get on fine with Phil. On the other hand, though – why on earth would he have wanted to break into his sister’s flat?’

‘I’ve no idea. I should think it’s extremely unlikely that he’s got anything to do with the break-in. It’s just, as I say, in the Martin family, whenever something happens that’s odd . . .’

‘Or criminal?’

‘Mm. Phil is the first suspect.’

‘Which might explain why Gaby is unwilling for the police to come and inspect her flat?’

‘Yes, Mum. I think it might.’

Carole had only momentary qualms about sharing with Jude what Stephen had told her. As soon as his BMW disappeared down the road, she was round at Woodside Cottage. Only after she had rung the doorbell did she remember that Jude had a guest.

But, to Carole’s relief, there was no sign of Gita when Jude ushered her into the cluttered sitting room. ‘Fancy a glass of wine? I’ve got some open in the fridge.’

‘Well, I did actually have some with Stephen at lunchtime.’

‘All the more reason. Come on, it’s Sunday,’ said Jude as she disappeared into the kitchen.