The Paying Guests(150)

The horror of it stayed with Frances all day. It followed her like a shadow to bed, and found its way into her dreams. In the early hours of Monday morning she awoke with a dreadful start, convinced that she’d heard the sound of someone furiously knocking at the front door. Could it be the police? Could it even be Lilian? The hallucination was so vivid that at last, quaking with apprehension, she lit her candle, tiptoed downstairs, and quietly drew the door open on its chain. She found the porch quite empty, the street beyond it dark and still, with only a few mouse-like movements here and there as the breeze got hold of fallen leaves and made them scuttle.

Later that day, worn out by the lonely churning of her thoughts, she took a tram into Town and went to Clipstone Street. And the moment the door to the flat was opened and she saw Christina’s familiar face – the childish blue eyes, the terrible haircut – she appalled herself by bursting into tears.

‘Oh, Chrissy.’

Christina came forward and took her in her arms. Frances wept against her shoulder, then fished for a handkerchief, holding the back of her hand to her running nose, embarrassed. ‘Stevie isn’t here, is she?’

‘No, Stevie’s at school, of course. Come in off the landing.’

‘I’m disturbing you.’

‘Don’t be an idiot. Come in. I’ve been longing to see you.’

She led Frances into the flat, put her to sit in the velveteen armchair. She drew the hat from her head and the gloves from her fingers; she set a kettle of water to heat on the gas-ring, then opened a drawer and produced a bottle of brandy and two tumblers. Frances’s tears had begun to subside. She was wiping her face. But when Christina put the tumbler into her hand the gesture set her off again, worse than before. She took a single unsteady sip, the glass rattling against her teeth. Then she set it down and cried into her handkerchief – cried until her head was throbbing.

‘I’m sorry,’ she managed at last.

‘Don’t say that,’ said Christina, ‘for God’s sake. Drink your brandy. Will you have a blanket? You’re freezing! Why are you so cold?’

Frances tried another sip, then put the tumbler aside. ‘I don’t think I’ve been warm, not for a moment, since —’ She couldn’t finish.

Christina fetched a tartan rug, brought out the electric fire. Sitting down in the opposite chair, she said, ‘What on earth’s been happening to you?’

Frances shuddered. ‘The first couple of days after he died – I don’t know, now, how we all got through them. We did it inch by inch, I think, like climbing a cliff. Then it seemed to be all right. But now – I don’t know what’s going on. The police have got some idea in their heads. It’s terrifying.’

‘Terrifying, how?’

‘Have you been following the case in the papers? You know there’s this man, Leonard’s friend? Charlie Wismuth? He’s supposed to have spent the evening with Leonard before he died. But the police don’t believe him. And the worst of it is, they think that Lilian – they think that Lilian might have – Christ!’ Her lips were twitching. ‘I can’t even say it. I haven’t seen her since the funeral. And even then I couldn’t get near her. It was unbelievable. No one on Leonard’s side will talk to her. The two families were practically tearing up tombstones and hurling them at each other! At home I do nothing but worry. My mother’s as bad as the police. I just don’t know what to do. Lilian’s at Walworth. We can’t talk, we can’t see each other —’

‘It can’t last for ever, surely?’

‘I feel so utterly alone.’

‘But it can’t go on and on, can it?’

‘Something dreadful’s going to happen, I know it is.’

‘But I still don’t understand. You say the police suspect Lilian? But of what, exactly? And why?’

‘It all turns on Charlie’s statement. He isn’t telling the truth about where he was on the night Leonard died.’

‘They think he had something to do with the murder?’

‘Yes. But he didn’t.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just – I just know he didn’t. But they’re imagining that there’s been some sort of love affair between him and Lilian. That she… put him up to it. I don’t know.’

‘Do they have any evidence?’

‘Of course they don’t.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Well, of course I’m sure! What are you suggesting?’

‘Nothing, I suppose. It’s just, to see you dragged into all this…’

‘The police are simply fastening things together. Ridiculous things. Lilian’s behaviour at her sister’s party. The fact that she and Leonard weren’t happy. The fact that his life was insured —’ But Frances didn’t want to talk about that. She shook her head. ‘It’s all nonsense. But they believe it! They’re twisting things about.’

Christina said, after a pause, ‘I wish you had come to me sooner. I’ve been worried to death about you. I very nearly came to Camberwell.’

Frances was rubbing her stinging eyes. ‘You might as well have done. My mother saw your telegram. The whole thing’s out in the open now.’