Guilt at the Garage

SEVENTEEN

Over the weekend, Carole kept thinking about Jude. She wasn’t jealous of her neighbour being at a healing conference in Leeds. She couldn’t imagine anything she would enjoy less. She needed ‘Healing in the Head’ like a hole in the head. And she didn’t think being in the company of a lesbian couple would improve the experience for her. But she did want to share the news of her Friday afternoon encounter with Dr Rawley. Calling Jude’s mobile was always an option, but Carole – typically – was worried that might make her sound needy. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t survive a weekend with an empty Woodside Cottage next door. The conference, she knew, finished at lunchtime on the Sunday. Jude would be back late that evening. Catching up with her on the Monday morning would be soon enough.

By the Sunday morning, however, the need to make contact was even more urgent. Carole tried to allay it, by ringing her son Stephen and family in Fulham, but listening to the garbled exploits of her granddaughters, Lily and Chloe, did not work its usual magic sufficiently to distract her. When she’d put the phone down, she knew she was going to give in and call Jude.

But, before she had time to dial the number, the phone in her hand rang.

She answered it and a slightly accented voice said, ‘Good morning. This is Malee Shefford.’

The house in which Bill Shefford had lived with two wives was not on one of Fethering’s most highly prized roads, nor did it have period charm on its side, but it was far enough from the Downside Estate to be deemed respectable. In the front room, Carole was struck again by Malee’s beauty. It was not like the glossy allure of a model photographed in a magazine, but something deeper: an iconic face that seemed to symbolize generations of femininity. Seeing her close to, it was more difficult to judge the woman’s age. She could have been anything between twenty and fifty.

The room was meticulously clean and tidy but showed little sign of Malee’s influence. It had a slightly old-fashioned air, as though nothing had been changed since the death of Bill’s first wife Valerie some eight years before. But on the top of a glass-doored cupboard was a photograph of him. In front was a low vase of flowers. Lit candles in short ceramic holders stood either side. Carole did not know whether the shrine was a reflection of Malee’s religion or a personal tribute.

She had been offered tea but refused. She wasn’t sure what kind of tea someone from Thailand would drink, and didn’t want to risk embarrassment if she didn’t like it. Typical Carole.

When they were seated opposite each other, she asked, ‘Why did you agree to see me?’

‘Because you asked to see me,’ Malee replied with disarming simplicity. Her English was very good, with only a hint of an accent.

‘Has nobody else asked?’

‘Nobody outside Bill’s family, no.’

Carole realized this was probably true and considered the implications. While Fethering had been abuzz with speculation and accusation ever since Bill Shefford’s death, nobody had directly confronted the main suspect. Despite feeling a thrill at being the first one to make the breakthrough, Carole could not suppress a sense of collective guilt that the woman had been so isolated by the village. And that guilt was increased by the knowledge that race had played its part.

‘Well, first,’ she announced, with awkward formality, ‘I’d like to say how sorry I am for your loss.’

Equally formal, Malee bowed her head and said, ‘Thank you. It is not the tradition in my country to show outward signs of grief, but that does not mean the pain is not there.’

‘As you can imagine,’ Carole continued cautiously, ‘there has been a lot of talk in Fethering about your husband’s death.’

‘I can imagine that. I have not heard much of it, but I can also imagine the kind of things that have been said.’

‘What kind of things?’ asked Carole, keen to establish Malee’s position before she revealed anything of her own.

With a wry, pained smile, the widow said, ‘Oh, that I was always bad news for Bill. That I cut him off from everyone else. That I wouldn’t allow him to go fishing with Red.’

‘Red?’

‘An old friend of his from schooldays. They used to go sea fishing every Sunday in Red’s boat. That’s where he lives, in the boat. Down on the Fether, at the marina. I’ve no doubt everyone says I stopped Bill from going on those fishing trips.’

The very accusation Rhona Hampton had made to Jude. Though, of course, Carole hadn’t been there to hear it.

‘No, I am not surprised at anything that’s said about me. For Fethering, I am the Wicked Witch of the West.’ With a sardonic grin, she added, ‘Or perhaps it should be Wicked Witch of the East, in my case. Anyway, in the eyes of Fethering, there is no enormity of which I am incapable. I am sure the expression “gold-digger” has been used more than once.’

There seemed no point in denial. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it has,’ Carole admitted.

‘I knew that would happen from the moment I fell in love with Bill. And yes, it was love.’ There was a challenge in the look she cast on Carole. ‘Though I do not necessarily expect you to believe that.’

‘I have no reason not to,’ said Carole, though that was a slight sanitizing of her actual views.

‘There are lots of corny clichés on the subject,’ said Malee, again surprising Carole by her articulacy. ‘Saying that, when you are in love, age is not an issue. Well, with Bill and me, that was true.’

‘I have to say, Malee, that your English is extraordinarily good.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Did you study it back in Thailand?’

‘Only a little. But in the hotels and restaurants where I worked there were a lot of English people. I am good at listening. And since I have been in England, I have done evening classes in English.’

‘And in book-keeping, I hear,’ said Carole, remembering Frankie’s fears of being elbowed out of a job.

‘Yes.’

‘And car maintenance …’ Carole hazarded.

‘That too. There are wonderful educational opportunities here in England. Much better than what was available in Thailand. I wanted to take advantage of all of them.’

‘With a view to helping Bill in his business?’

‘With a view more to understanding Bill’s business.’

That sounded like an honest answer. Carole changed tack. ‘Was it a wrench for you to leave everyone behind in Thailand? I’ve heard that family is very important for people of your … erm, in your …’ Carole fought for the politically correct words, before coming up with the acceptable ‘in your culture.’

‘You are right. I am very close to my family. The fact that I was prepared to leave them behind and come to a foreign country is again a measure of how deep my love for Bill was.’

‘Yes.’ Carole wasn’t quite sure how to phrase the natural follow-on question.

But, fortunately, Malee saved her the trouble. ‘You are wondering whether I have been sending money to my family in Thailand.’

‘Well, I, er …’

‘Do not worry, Carole. You do not have to be hypersensitive with me. I know full well the kind of things that Fethering has been saying about me.’

‘Ah.’

‘And no, I have not been sending money back to my family in Thailand. I love them and hope to see them soon, but I have not been subsidizing them.’

‘“Hope to see them soon”?’

‘When everything is sorted out here, I will have to return to Thailand. I think I will be more welcome there than I am in Fethering.’

Again, Carole felt a kind of communal guilt. Without becoming overemotional, Malee’s words expressed the pain that her alien status had caused her. Fethering could be a chilly environment for people who did not fit one of its prescribed templates. And Carole could not completely exonerate herself from the kind of prejudice that the village consensus expressed. She couldn’t forget the remarks she’d made about ‘Mail Order Brides’.

‘My return home was meant to be in different circumstances,’ said Malee.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Bill really took to Thailand. When he was out there, he absolutely fell in love with the place. He talked of us living there after he retired.’

Carole remembered Tom Kendrick raising that possibility. ‘Did he have a plan as to when he intended to retire?’ she asked.

‘I would have said yes. He talked about September of this year. He said he couldn’t face another winter in England.’

‘You said you “would have said yes” …?’

For the first time in their conversation, Malee seemed uncertain, even a little confused. ‘Something happened to Bill in the last few months … the last few months of his life, I suppose I have to say.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He changed. Up until then, he had been so positive. From the moment we met, everything was positive. He was full of plans for us, plans for our future.’

Carole thought back to the last conversation she’d had with Bill, on the morning of his death. ‘Positive’ was the last word that could be used to describe it.

‘But then, suddenly,’ Malee went on, ‘round about October, I suppose, his mood changed.’

‘In what way?’

‘He became very … I’m not sure of the right word … withdrawn? His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. He no longer talked about his plans for our future. It was … I don’t know … strange. I kept asking if it was something I had done, if he was ashamed of me … and he said no. I think perhaps it was something from his past.’

‘But he never told you what that might be?’

‘No. But when I think about it, of course he had lived a lot of his life before he met me. I do not know it all, only what he told me. Perhaps I did not know much of it. It’s possible there was someone in his past who was an enemy, who he had reason to be frightened of.’

‘Did he act as if he was frightened?’ Carole’s mind was already sketching out a scenario in which Bill Shefford was a victim of blackmail.

‘Yes, he did. There was something … I don’t know … troubling him.’

‘Do you think it could have been something to do with the family? Billy or Shannon or …?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. They had nothing against Bill … well, except for the fact that he married me.’

‘Mm. I heard from a friend who’d heard from someone’ – Carole changed her mind about mentioning Malee’s mother-in-law – ‘that Shannon had wanted to come here to look for a will.’

‘Yes.’

‘And that you wouldn’t let her.’

‘Is that so unreasonable?’

‘No, you’re within your rights.’

Carole clearly hadn’t kept all the disapproval out of her voice, because Malee said, ‘I’m not trying to deceive her. I’ve looked all through the house myself. I am at least as keen to find the will as Shannon is.’

‘And you’ve had no luck? Have you been on to Bill’s solicitor?’

‘Of course I have. And yes, they had been in discussion about the will. The solicitor had sent Bill a draft a couple of weeks before he died. The last thing he heard was that Bill was going to sign it in front of two witnesses and post it back.’ Malee looked glum. ‘It never arrived.’

‘And do you know …?’ Carole began tentatively.

‘Do I know what the provisions of the will were? That’s what you want to know, I suppose.’ There was an edge of bitterness in her voice as she said, ‘That, no doubt, is what all Fethering wants to know.’

‘There has been a lot of speculation,’ Carole admitted.

‘I can put an end to that right now,’ said Malee. ‘It was something that Bill had discussed with me. His plan was that I should inherit this house, some savings he had – not a lot – a small amount he had in a pension pot and the proceeds of a life insurance policy.’ She paused. ‘And Billy would inherit the premises and the business of Shefford’s Garage.’

‘Were you happy with that arrangement?’

‘More than happy. I had no desire to deprive Billy and Shannon of their rightful inheritance.’

‘Did you tell Shannon that?’

‘She didn’t ask me. She just asked if she could come to the house to search for a will. When I said no, she rang off.’

‘So, what are you going to do now, Malee?’

‘In the absence of a will, Bill technically died intestate. That means I will inherit everything. I will then transfer Shefford’s Garage to Billy. It will take a long time and a lot of lawyers’ fees.’

‘But if you were to tell Shannon and Billy that, it would set their minds at rest.’

‘I have tried to tell them. But it is a difficult thing to do when they slam the phone down as soon as they hear my voice. Anyway, I am not sure they would believe me. They distrust me, you see. And Shannon’s mother hates me.’

What she’d heard from Jude made Carole unable to argue with that. ‘Very odd,’ she mused. ‘I wonder what happened to the will.’ Malee shrugged glumly. ‘I wonder if Bill got as far as signing it and getting it witnessed …?’

‘I do not know.’ Suddenly the widow looked exhausted. The rigid control she had been exercising over her emotions was under threat.

‘And if he did,’ said Carole, ‘who were the witnesses?’

Another weary ‘I do not know.’

‘What would you feel,’ asked Carole, as a new thought came to her, ‘if someone else were to tell Billy and Shannon what you’ve just told me? About the provisions Bill intended to put into his will? It might reassure them and get them off your back.’

Malee shrugged. ‘Why would they believe someone else? Are you suggesting you should tell them? Why should they believe you?’

‘I wasn’t thinking of myself, but I have a friend who’s a … healer.’ She tried very hard to drain the last drop of scepticism from the word. Long habit made that hard. ‘She’s treating Shannon’s mother. I could ask her to … sort of mediate.’

‘Do what you want,’ said Malee listlessly.

‘So … a missing will,’ said Carole. ‘Anything else missing?’

‘Yes,’ said the widow with sudden energy.

‘What?’

‘Bill’s appointments diary. A green book he always had with him. And I haven’t seen it since the day he died.’