The Little One

Chapter Nine

Margaret stood in the doorway, smiling.

‘It’s all quiet now,’ she said. ‘Are you all right, Barbara? You look very agitated.’

‘I’m fine. It’s... it’s just the fire. It makes the room very warm,’ Barbara stammered.

Margaret leaned over and touched Barbara’s face.

‘You’re so flushed. Would you like me to make you a coffee?’

‘No, really. We were interrupted and you were just about to ask me something.’

‘You’ve had too much to drink,’ Margaret teased.

‘Look, I’m ready.’ Barbara pressed her hand on top of the Bible. ‘Just tell me what you want me to say.’

Margaret nodded and closed her eyes, placing her hands together as if in prayer.

‘Repeat these words: “I promise that I will never divulge this secret to anyone. It must remain with me and my knowing will release Margaret from all her promised responsibilities. This I swear.”’

When Barbara had said the words, Margaret touched her hand.

‘Thank you.’

Although Barbara now did feel a little woozy, she was desperate for Margaret to continue. Impatiently, she asked, ‘Who is upstairs? I know someone is living up there.’

Margaret sipped her glass of brandy.

Then, not looking at Barbara, she resumed her story. She repeated that she’d arranged for Julia and Emily to stay with her in London. It was snowing. The roads were icy. When Julia had not arrived by eleven, she became worried. At midnight she received a call from St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington. There had been an accident and her sister was in intensive care. She rang for a taxi and went straight to the hospital.

Julia was in a critical condition, desperate to talk to Margaret. Margaret screamed at the doctors to give her a few moments alone with her sister. At that point, Julia had clung to Margaret’s hand and admitted that Emily was Armande’s child. She said that the affair was over as quickly as it had begun. She wept and asked to be forgiven.

Margaret shuddered and sipped more brandy.

‘I was in shock, hardly able to take in what she was saying. I didn’t want to believe it.’

Julia then became hysterical, asking Margaret to go to her bag and bring her the Bible from inside it. Julia insisted that Margaret put her hand over the cross and swear on her life that she would take care of Emily. If anything should happen to Julia, Margaret must swear to bring up Emily as her own child.

‘Of course I did as she asked. And that seemed to calm her. When the doctors returned she had become quieter. But then she suddenly went into convulsions. Blood poured from her nose and mouth... it was terrible. She’d been bleeding in her brain and had sunk into a coma shortly afterwards. She had been dying in front of me all the time.’

Barbara now knew how the blood had stained the Bible. She wanted to reach out to comfort Margaret, but there seemed to be no need. Margaret was in a world of her own. She sat very still, calmly sipping her brandy.

‘So Emily was injured as well?’ Barbara asked.

Margaret nodded. She explained that she had been in a state of shock over her sister’s confession, hardly able to take in that she had died. Eventually she’d asked if she could see Emily.

‘I was told she’d been taken straight to Great Ormond Street, so I caught another taxi and went straight there.’

Even though Margaret’s story was so shocking, Barbara couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. ‘She’s here, isn’t she? It’s Emily I’ve heard moving around upstairs, isn’t it?’

Margaret nodded.

‘When I got to the hospital, they told me that Emily was dead on arrival. I broke down in tears. To lose my husband, then my sister, then her child... It was all too much for me. I collapsed and the following day I was taken back to the clinic to recover. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’

Puzzled, Barbara frowned and shook her head. She had no idea how to react when Margaret continued, explaining that she’d managed to leave the clinic and go to the funerals. She then came straight to the manor house.

Margaret paused and looked straight at Barbara. With no emotion in her voice, she stated, ‘That’s when I realized Emily had returned.’

Barbara could think of nothing to say.

‘She lives here, Barbara. She’s now seven years old. I’ve taken care of her all this time. I’ve been afraid to tell anyone. I knew no one would believe me. They’d send me back to that awful clinic. Emily has dominated my life. I’ve treated her like the daughter I never had. I couldn’t just leave her and return to work. That was impossible.’

Barbara’s jaw dropped. She tried to say something, but no words came out. She was certain that Margaret was mentally ill. She didn’t want to upset her any further. She just wanted to leave and get back to London as soon as possible. She knew about how schizophrenics could hear or speak in different voices. Eventually she found her own voice.

‘Thank you for telling me this, Margaret. I will never repeat it to anyone.’

Margaret gave her a lovely smile.

‘Of course you won’t. I knew I could trust you. Now we share the secret, I’m so relieved that it’s over.’

Margaret woke Barbara at seven the following morning. She was very smartly dressed. Her face was made up and her hair was coiled into a bun at the base of her neck.

‘I’ve run a bath for you. We’ll leave in about three-quarters of an hour.’

‘Terrific,’ Barbara muttered, feeling the start of a terrible hangover.

She went upstairs, where Margaret had left out clean underwear and a lovely skirt with a thick cashmere sweater. She then came back down to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.

The drive to the station passed without incident. Margaret kept up a bubbly conversation, pointing out the landmarks in the village. First the church and the vicarage, then the neat little cottages and some elegant weekend retreats for people from London, finally the post office and the grocer’s shop.

When they stopped in the small railway station car park, she showed Barbara where she hid the keys of the Land Rover, beneath the driver’s seat.

They were in perfect time for the train and sat opposite each other in window seats. Margaret said she would take a taxi from Waterloo to her solicitor in Knightsbridge. Barbara said she would head over to Alan and Kevin’s house. She had still not made contact, as her mobile phone battery was now flat.

As they arrived, Barbara was a little embarrassed to admit that she had only a few pound coins. Margaret gave her two £20 and three £5 notes.

‘That’s too much.’

‘Nonsense. You will need to buy a few things.’

Margaret put her briefcase down and cupped Barbara’s face in her hands. She kissed her on the lips.

‘Goodbye, Barbara. I love you.’

Barbara was embarrassed again, but replied haltingly, ‘Er, I love you too, Margaret.’

Sitting back in a taxi, Barbara felt very confused. Her headache was really hammering. She lowered the window and took a few deep breaths. She began to wonder if she could still face speaking to Mike Phillips, the editor, about all this. It was so crazy, how would he react?

As she paid the taxi fare, Barbara hoped that someone would be at home, because she didn’t have her spare key. She rang the doorbell and waited. Thankfully, Kevin was in.

He was very different in appearance from Alan. He was squat, with thick dark hair worn in a crew cut. His broad shoulders looked even broader in the thick plaid dressing gown he was now wearing. He didn’t look very welcoming. In fact, he asked straight away when she would be leaving, reminding her that he needed to use the box room.

Barbara promised him that she was going to look at some places to rent, but it didn’t seem to make him any friendlier. He told her to help herself to coffee, then went back upstairs.

Barbara took a cup of tepid coffee up to the box room to recharge her mobile. Sitting on the bed, she felt like crying.

She opened her laptop to check her emails. There weren’t any. She took out of her handbag the scrawled notes she had made while at the manor house and began to copy them into a document, recalling the strange way Margaret had behaved.

The telephone rang and she heard someone hurrying to answer it. Then, after a moment, Kevin knocked on her door.

‘There’s a Mr Sullivan on the line for you. Can you take it downstairs? He wouldn’t tell me what he wanted.’

Barbara closed her laptop, went to the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

‘Am I speaking to Miss Barbara Hardy?’

‘Yes.’

‘My name is Edward Sullivan. I am Margaret Reynolds’s solicitor.’

Barbara could hardly take in what he had said. In a very abrupt tone of voice, he informed her he needed to see her as soon as possible. She would have to sign various important documents. When Barbara asked what these were, he replied that he did not wish to discuss it over the telephone.

As she’d nothing better to do, she agreed to meet him at his Knightsbridge office. They made an appointment for three fifteen.

Barbara peeked into the kitchen as she was leaving.

‘I’m off now. I’ll be back later if that’s all right?’

Kevin was scrambling some eggs.

‘Yeah, it’s fine. Alan should be home.’

He hesitated, then said, ‘By the way, that job you offered me. My agent hasn’t got any booking.’

Barbara tried to think quickly, which was hard with her hangover. Finally, she said, ‘Well, my editor still has to finalize stuff. I think we’re supposed to have a meeting this afternoon.’

She was just closing the door when he asked, ‘It isn’t connected to Margaret Reynolds, is it?’

Barbara pretended not to hear him and didn’t reply.

Kevin had just sat down to eat when he heard Barbara’s mobile phone ringing from the box room. She must have forgotten to take it off charge. He picked it up just as it stopped ringing. The caller ID showed ‘Mike Phillips, editor’.

Kevin couldn’t resist it. He pressed redial and waited. Mike answered.

‘Hi, I’m a friend of Barbara’s. Can I take a message?’

‘I’ve been waiting for her to get back to me about some mad ageing soap star,’ Mike said sharply. ‘Barbara was supposed to track her down for a feature.’

‘Mad... ageing...’ Kevin repeated.

‘Yeah. She said she might be returning to work.’

‘I see,’ Kevin said quietly. He promised Mike that he would pass on the message.

His scrambled eggs had gone cold, but he was too furious to eat. Instead he called Alan.

‘She’s going to expose Margaret. I’m damn sure that was her intention all along. Persuading you to take her to the party so she could get the dirt on the poor woman.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ Alan said.

‘You’d better, because I talked to her editor. I warned you. She’s poison. When you get back tonight, we’ll deal with her.’

‘I should be home about five.’

Kevin stormed outside to the small courtyard and lit a cigarette. He’d been trying to give up smoking because Alan loathed it, but he was so angry now he couldn’t help himself.

When he had finished his cigarette, he went to the box room, picked up Barbara’s suitcases and laptop, and took them down to the hall.

Barbara caught the tube to Knightsbridge and walked from there to Mr Sullivan’s office, which was on the ground floor of an elegant house. She rang the doorbell and a secretary led her into a small waiting room.

After five minutes, Edward Sullivan walked in. He was very tall and thin-faced, with a shock of thick white hair. He wore a smart navy-blue pinstriped suit.

‘You must be Barbara Hardy,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Please come into my office.’

The room was dominated by a large oak desk with claw feet. A computer and telephone were to one side. On a large leather-backed blotter were numerous documents clipped together.

‘What is this about?’ Barbara said nervously.

He gave her a quizzical glance.

‘You have been named as the legal heir to Miss Reynolds’s estate.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Sullivan proceeded to explain that she was to inherit the manor house and a substantial sum of money. The conditions of the inheritance were rather irregular. She was to agree to live at the manor house and to keep the promise she had made while she was a recent guest there.

‘Do you recall making Miss Reynolds a promise to shoulder her responsibilities?’

‘Well, yes, I do. But I am not sure of the exact details.’

Barbara started to panic. She was hardly able to draw breath.

‘This is obviously in the event of Miss Reynolds’s death,’ Sullivan said.

Barbara shook her head, completely baffled.

The main condition was that Barbara must sign a legally binding document agreeing to live at the manor house. If she refused, or left after a short period, the will would become null and void.

Mr Sullivan also confirmed what Margaret had told her about planning permission. But apparently the will stipulated that no part of the manor house could be sold or divided into apartments.

Barbara was still confused, but agreed to sign all the documents. After doing so, she asked why Margaret had made her the heir. ‘Is she all right?’

‘She seemed in very good spirits when she came here this morning. Why do you ask?’

‘I mean is she what they call “of sound mind”?’

He gave a shrug as he carefully stacked all the papers.

‘She certainly seemed very alert and positive earlier. I am aware she’s had some problems in the past, but not for some time. I will need contact details from you, Miss Hardy, as I will send copies of everything.’

Barbara gave him Alan and Kevin’s address and telephone number, as well as her mobile number.

She headed back to the tube station in a daze. Nothing made sense to her. She couldn’t understand why Margaret had done this. Then, remembering the kiss, she decided not to think about it any more.