Pauline Rowson - In for the Kill

I jotted it down for him.

Rowde hesitated at the door. ‘Barry, see if the filth are out there.’

‘I doubt you’ll spot them,’ I said.

‘Like you, Barry and I also have a good nose for coppers. Anyway they can’t get anything on me, this is just a social visit catching up on old times. All that crap about being framed, why didn’t you just say in the first place? It would have saved you a beating.’

‘I didn’t want to spoil Barry’s fun.’ Rowde had reached the gate when I said, ‘Did you kill the girl?’

He turned back, surprised. ‘What girl?’

‘The blonde one.’

‘Don’t know any blondes.’

I didn’t believe him.

I turned my attention to the chaos in my bedroom, in particular my mother’s belongings.

I wasn’t surprised to find that her diary for 1938

had gone, but I was surprised to discover that the photograph of me with my telescope had. I searched in vain and could only draw the conclusion that Deeta must have taken it. Why should she want a photograph of me? There was only one reason and that was prompted by something Percy had said. My mother and I had been standing in front of the folly. I couldn’t think why Deeta should be interested in that; it was just bricks and cement, a great empty chasm of a place that had been stuffed full of junk when I had been a boy. And, as the police hadn’t yet come to question me, whoever had killed Deeta must have taken both items from her.

I knocked on Scarlett’s door.

‘Do you know if the Asletts are at home this weekend?’ I asked stepping inside. I had remembered that Scarlett was their cleaner.

‘Why? Are you thinking of calling on them?’

she said with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Not them. Bembridge House.’

She frowned puzzled. I guess I owed her an explanation and by her expression she wasn’t going to give me the information I wanted until I gave her one.

‘I need to get inside the folly. I suspect there is a key to it inside the house.’

‘Why on earth do you want to get in there?’

‘It’s better if you don’t know.’

‘Oh, big boy stuff, is it?’ she flashed.

‘No. I just don’t want you going the same way as Deeta.’

After a moment she said. ‘OK. I understand your reasoning and appreciate your concern, but if it’s anything to do with this Max then I want to know about it. Besides I think you owe me a couple of favours.’

She put her hands on her ample hips and glared at me. I had to smile to myself. She wasn’t going to give me the information I needed without a fight, and she was right. I did owe her.

I told her what Percy had said about Hugo, Max and Edward, and about the missing diary and photograph.

‘I need to see if there is a reason why Deeta was so interested in my grandfather’s folly, and why the photograph of my mother and me taken outside it has gone missing.’

‘What on earth can any of this have to do with whoever framed you?’

‘It probably doesn’t, but for want of anywhere else to look I might as well give it a go.’ I didn’t tell her about Rowde kidnapping my family, and my looming deadline.

She assessed me for a moment. Then said,

‘Let’s go take a look then.’

‘Not you,’ I cried alarmed.

‘You bet me. You can’t get into the house without me.’ She dangled a bunch of keys at me.

‘Unless you want to knock me out and steal them from me, then I’ll call the police.’

‘OK,’ I agreed reluctantly, but knowing that she wouldn’t.

‘The Asletts are away for the weekend. I can’t leave Mum alone here so we’ll drop her at Percy’s on our way. Come on, Mum.’

Before I could protest Scarlett had Ruby’s coat on and was locking the door behind us. ‘We’ll go in my car. Mum’s used to it.’

Stifling my impatience and annoyance I let Scarlett have her way. A few minutes later she was unlocking Bembridge House. I hadn’t had time to consider how I would feel stepping back inside my childhood home and now that I did I was overwhelmed with such a great sadness that I couldn’t move and my breath came in a tight shudder. Perhaps it was the sight of the staircase and the picture in my mind of my poor mother tumbling down it to her death; perhaps it was the thought that this would have been my family home if it hadn’t been for Andover; perhaps it was both but for a moment I felt like crawling away to a corner and howling. The moment passed and I sought refuge where I had done so many times in the last few years: in my anger.

‘The key to the folly is in the kitchen,’ Scarlett said, swiftly crossing the hall.

I followed her into a room that was so completely different to my mother’s that I might have been in another house. I was certainly in a different time zone. It looked as though it had been transplanted from NASA, all chrome and angles. I was glad. I didn’t want to be reminded of my mother moving around the warm, comfortable room of my childhood, with its oak dressers and aga.

I followed Scarlett out into the gardens. It was late afternoon and it had started raining but neither of us took much notice of the weather.

‘Give me the key,’ I demanded. Scarlett thrust it in my hand.

It was a big heavy old-fashioned type, which I inserted and turned not knowing what to expect.

The lock was well oiled and the heavy oak door swung open fairly easily.

‘There’s a light, here.’ I reached to my right and suddenly the place was lit by a single overhead electric light bulb that cast eerie shadows around the edges of the domed-shaped building.

I shivered. Not just from the chill interior but at the boyhood memories. Once I had been locked in here by mistake. Steven had done it whilst we had been playing. Now all those sensations returned: my clammy skin, the panicky breathing, the oppressiveness, and the impression that I was being watched.

Scarlett broke the spell. ‘It’s just a junk store.’

‘What did you expect? Treasure?’

‘Would have been nice.’

The Asletts were using it to store their garden furniture. There were sun loungers, a garden table and parasol, a barbecue, some very old planks of wood that I was sure had been in the far corner when I had been a boy, and what looked like a wooden mast from a sailing boat with some furled up sails.

Scarlett said, ‘What are you looking for?’

‘My grandfather built this as an air raid shelter, which means there must be a room underneath here. Somewhere his family could hide if the bombs came.’

‘Great! We’ve got to lug this stuff around now.’

‘You don’t have to stay.’

‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’ And she set too with vigour, ignoring the dirt and the insects. I couldn’t see Vanessa or Deeta doing that. I found to my surprise that I was rather glad she was with me. It was good not to be alone.

Finally we found it, a trapdoor in the far corner covered with dirt, dust and the old wooden planks. I was surprised I had never found it as a boy, but I suppose being shut in here once was enough to make me singularly uncurious for the rest of my life – until now.

With a pounding heart I said, ‘Give me a hand.’

We grunted and groaned as we pulled at the handle. It was very stiff but slowly it began to give way. The Asletts had never found this and certainly Deeta, and whoever was working with her hadn’t either. I could smell the earth, dust and decay. There was a black hole beneath us.

‘I should have brought a torch.’

‘There’s one in the house. I’ll fetch it.’

Lying down flat on my stomach, I stared down at the blackness. Reaching out with my hands I could feel a ladder. God alone knew if the rungs were safe. I’d have to chance it. I didn’t believe in buried treasure but I did wonder if this might be where the three men had stashed their money from helping the Jews to escape Hitler’s clutches, hence Deeta’s interest.