John Eider - Not a Very Nice Woman

‘But you weren’t in the party that went looking for Stella?’

‘No. Truth be told, I only hoped she might have been down there; I wasn’t waiting at their table. If she and Charlie had arranged to meet then I know not what for.’

‘So did the pair of them often meet to talk privately?’

‘If they wanted to talk I let them.’

‘Let me put it another way: did they have anything private to talk about?’

‘Secrets between themselves, you mean? There was a connection but not in the way you may be inferring, Inspector. Charlie… had a very emotional life. Stella was kind of like his keeper, though in a totally non-possessive sense. Oh, I’m not explaining this well.’

‘Stella has no secrets now, Mr Waldron.’

‘It was she who brought him here originally: found him a flat, settled him in and introduced us all, took care to make him involved in everything going on here, for he was terrible shy when he arrived.’

‘So they knew each other before Cedars?’

‘Yes, but how well I couldn’t tell you.’

‘But enough to want to help him.’

‘Make no mistake, Inspector, there was emotional care going on. She obviously knew something of his former life.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Well, I know so little myself that I don’t know if saying it wouldn’t muddy the waters.’

‘Go on, we can sort out the details.’

‘He had a daughter who died, was killed I believe.’

‘Yes, that would do it.’

‘But it wasn’t just that: I think the daughter must have died on the estate they lived on, as Charlie couldn’t bear to go back there.’

Grey’s heart sank, ‘One of the Hills estates?’

The man nodded, ‘That’s half the reason Stella bought him here; and I’ve often wondered if she wasn’t paying at least some of his way, for I don’t imagine he’s ever been a rich man.’

‘When was all this?’

‘Not long after we’d formed the Trust, so maybe fifteen years ago?’

‘We can look into it.’ Grey made a mental note to set his support staff the task. ‘Meanwhile, I could do with learning a bit about your Trust.’

‘Well our solicitor, Mrs Rossiter, would your man there; but in principle, it’s formed by the residents for the residents.’

‘And how did it come about?’

‘Well, if you go back about, oh sixteen years now, several of those of us who owned flats back then found we were of similar ages. Some of us were getting on a bit, others would be in the not-too-distant future, and we found we wanted to have a bit more security. Some flats were standing empty, with young people looking to newer developments in town, and the place was beginning to feel its age a bit, so to speak. None of us wanted to leave for care homes in the future, you see, and so we spoke with the building’s owners, who were fine with our plans so long as no major structural work was done. We agreed to form a trust and each put in fifteen thousand pounds, and then another five thousand a year (more if the care they needed increased); which covered the deposit for a mortgage on two flats on the ground floor — always the first to empty, don’t you find? — and the salary for a permanent monitor-warden-duty manager, call them what you will, to mother us and be there any time of day and night. We also pay a women to cook, and for a couple of orderlies. We also built the dayroom at the back, which was our biggest success.’

‘So this is the first flat, and the second?’

‘That’s now a laundry and kitchen for those who can’t or don’t want to cook for themselves.’

‘So who runs things?’

‘The Trust, as a committee. Any resident can join informally, but the big decisions are taken by those who’ve been here over five years.’

‘And back at the start, were their any residents who didn’t want to join?’

‘A couple, yes, though it made no difference to them so long as they didn’t mind living among an ageing community.’

‘No noses put out of joint?’

‘No, in fact the last only left a couple of years back. You couldn’t meet a nicer fellow, he just didn’t want the engagement. He travelled a lot, and left for good for Australia.’

‘But new residents?’

‘New residents have to be approved by the Committee.’

‘And the building’s owners?’

‘They’re glad of us — empty rooms left unheated and uncared for are bad for buildings, but we’ve been full these last years.’

Just then something stuck in Grey’s recent memory, ‘But you’re not full, are you… unless there’s someone living under all that undergrowth at the end of the second floor corridor?’

The man considered his answer before delivering it, ‘You’re going to hear some things said about Stella that won’t always paint her in the best light. Don’t misunderstand her: most of what she did she did for the right reasons, like how she cared for Charlie; but I did wonder if a part of why she cared for him when no one else did was because at some point in her life no one had cared for her.’

‘The flat, Mr Waldron.’

‘You’re right, that end-flat is empty, has been since Mrs Cuthbert went into hospital a year ago, God rest her. When she first moved in, back before the Trust this was, Stella lived on the first floor next door to me. I became friendly with another fellow along that corridor, and we’d often be going back and forth to each other’s places for drinks and for company, treating the corridor as public space. Now don’t forget, these were private flats back then; and I think Stella thought there was just too much going on outside her door.

‘And so when her current flat… oh no, there’s nothing current about it is there.’

‘Don’t worry, go on.’

‘ When her flat on the second floor became available, she went through the whole house-buying and moving process just to be higher up in the building, and tucked in a corner where only one other resident would ever need to walk past: Mrs Cuthbert, who did nothing more distracting that listen to Radio 3 and keep pot plants.’

‘Did Mrs Cuthbert later became a trustee?’

‘A stalwart — if the history of this place were ever written she’d have a whole chapter.’

‘And when she died?’

‘As I say, this may not show people in the best…’

‘Go on.’

‘I can say it now — Stella used every trick in the book to delay the clearing out of the flat and putting it up for resale. I think it scared her that she’d get the tenant from hell up there, despite it being our decision who was let in. Anyway, it rumbled on for months, and recently we’d just given up mentioning it in Committee meetings. The fact that the Trust was in profit even without that flat’s five thousand a year income allowed us to leave it as the elephant in the room. Stella said she’d look after the plants meanwhile, which we all knew meant that Rachel would look after them. Well, you’ve seen them yourself, those plants just grew and grew: God, it’s like The Drowned World up there, what with Rachel watering them and the sunlight they get in that corridor. We’d have needed a gardener to remove them eventually. In fact, I could get on and arrange it now; or at least when you’re finished up there.’

‘What were her tricks?’

‘Sorry?’

‘How did Stella delay? I need to learn this side of her.’

‘She used the pretext of some letter not being received back from Mrs Cuthbert’s family. You see when a resident dies the Trust instructs Mrs Rossiter, our solicitor, to help the families with flat resale and the disposal of assets. To not hear back from a family usually means she would proceed as usual and the flat’s profits passed on to the beneficiaries; there’s even a proviso in our contracts automatically authorising this: After all, it isn’t as if someone inheriting a flat here could just move in if they weren’t suitable…’