Jude giggled. Annoyingly, in her neighbour’s view. “Well, Carole, at least we have made some advance in our investigation. We do now know that Lola’s lied to protect Ricky. She gave him an alibi for all of the night of the fire, and what you heard from Anna has broken that.”
“To be fair, Anna left him in the shop at…what…half-past eight? He may have gone straight back home after that.”
“But Lola said he didn’t leave the house again after he’d come back from taking Polly to Fedborough Station.”
“Though I got a different story from Saira Sherjan.”
A new idea struck Jude and her brown eyes sparkled as she said, “Suppose Lola actually knows about Ricky’s affair with Anna, and she gave him the alibi because she didn’t want anyone else to find out?”
“The way she was cuddling up to him last night didn’t look like the behaviour of a woman who knows her husband’s having an affair.”
“Don’t you believe it, Carole. Remember how many people were there at that party. Public displays of affection are no guide to the real state of a marriage. And don’t forget that Lola used to be quite a good actress.”
“Hm…” Carole took a sip of Chardonnay. “Do you think we’re ever going to get more out of Flora Le Bonnier?”
Jude grimaced. “I think we’ve had our ration of information there. One thing’s for sure, she’s never going to reveal the identity of Ricky’s father. As she said – rather gleefully, I thought – that secret will go to the grave with her.”
“Do you think Ricky himself knows?”
“I wonder. Flora’s will is so strong she’s quite capable of having kept it a secret from him too.”
“But what Piers said to me virtually proved that Ricky’s father was Rupert Sonning.”
“What?” demanded a thunderstruck Jude. “Could you run that past me again?”
“Oh, of course, I haven’t told you, have I?” And Carole gave a quick résumé of her conversation on the terrace with the drunken writer, concluding, “So what else do you think he meant?”
Jude nodded thoughtfully. “You could be right.”
“Of course I’m right!” Carole snapped. “I wonder if we could get another chance to talk to Flora?”
“Doubt it. I think she’s already suspicious of us. And, anyway, she’s probably going back up to London this afternoon, so we’d have to find some reason to beard her in her den in St John’s Wood. She’d be – Oh, damn!” said Jude suddenly and shot out into the hall, calling back as she went, “Lola asked me about babysitting, didn’t she? Said she’d call me in the morning. And I’ve had my mobile switched off since last night.”
Iron strength of will was required to stop Carole from asking, “Why?” Jude reappeared, holding the mobile and tapping through the buttons to check for messages. “Oh, no! She does want me to. Sorry, Carole, I must ring her back.”
From the Woodside Cottage end of the conversation it was clear that Flora was insisting on being taken back to St John’s Wood, and that she required both her son and daughter-in-law to escort her there. Varya had not returned from her vodka-steeped night in Southampton, and if Jude could possibly…?
“I’ll get a cab. Be with you in as long as it takes.”
When the call had ended, Carole said, “Don’t bother about a cab. I’ll take you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” said Carole, adding frostily, “I’m not in the habit of making offers I don’t intend to carry through.”
“No, well, thank you. I would very much appreciate it.” Jude hesitated. “Though it just might be a bit awkward if you wanted to join me for the babysitting.”
Carole looked frostier than ever. “I have no desire to join you for the babysitting.”
They were in the Renault on the way to Fedingham Court House. Jude had been silently musing away to herself for a while when suddenly she said, “Piers could have meant something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“When he talked about ‘ex-wives’ and ‘a flat’, you assumed he meant Flora.”
“Yes, of course.”
“But suppose he wasn’t talking about her…?”
“How many ex-wives is Rupert Sonning supposed to have?”
“Not Rupert Sonning. Ricky.”
“Ricky’s ex-wife? Are you talking about Kath?”
“That’s exactly who I’m talking about, Carole.”
As Jude smiled across at her friend, a huge yawn took over her face. Which Carole found very annoying.
Thirty-One
The handover to Jude in the hall of Fedingham Court House was quickly achieved. Mabel made no fuss; she was delighted to see one of her approved babysitters. Ricky was out the front, settling his mother into the Mercedes 4x4, as a harassed-looking Lola gave instructions.
“Henry’s asleep. The baby monitor’s switched through to the playroom and the sitting room, so you’ll hear him when he wakes up. If you take Mabel up with you, he’ll be quite happy about you taking him out of the cot. And he’ll want some milk when he wakes up, his bottle’s in the kitchen. Mabel knows where it is. He may need a nappy changing, but it shouldn’t be dirty this time of day. Mabel’ll show you where everything is.”
Lola looked at her watch. It was just after half past two. “I don’t know what the traffic’ll be like, but with a following wind, Ricky and I should be back by seven, which is their bathtime. That is assuming Flora lets us just deliver her and turn straight round.”
“Is she likely to?”
“I don’t know, Jude. She’s in one of her particularly imperious moods today. Insisting that I travel up in the car with her and Ricky. ‘I just don’t feel I’ve had a proper talk to you, Lola, while I’ve been down here. What with everything that’s been going on, we haven’t had a proper talk.’” Once again her impression of her mother-in-law was spot-on. “It’s totally unnecessary, but Ricky always gives in to her whims. Anyway, hopefully we’ll be able to turn straight round. If we’re not back by seven – ”
“I’ll show Jude where everything is,” said Mabel, solemnly responsible.
Lola grinned. “She will. She’s much more organized than I am. I sometimes think I’m the one who needs a babysitter. And I’ve put their supper out on top of the fridge. Henry’s a bit picky at the moment. If he doesn’t like the pasta, try him with a slice of apple or some raisins. Don’t worry if he doesn’t eat much. He evens up over the day.”
Ricky Le Bonnier came bustling in through the front door. “Better be off, love. The old girl’s champing at the bit.” Lola went off to grab her coat as her husband scooped Mabel up into his arms. “You’ll be a good girl for Jude, won’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy. Mummy says she needs a babysitter, not me.”
“And your Mummy is dead right, as ever.” He put the girl down and planted a kiss on top of her white-blonde curls. “Look after Henry, won’t you, and we’ll see you at bathtime.”
“If you’re back in time.”
“Yes, Mabel, if we’re back in time. Which we will try to be.”
“But that’ll depend on Grandma. Mummy says she’s in one of her imp…” Mabel struggled with the word – “impish moods.”
“Something like that.” Ricky ruffled her hair, as if he didn’t want to leave her, then looked up to see Lola approaching, grabbed her arm and set off for the car. “Bless you for looking after them, Jude.”
“No problem.”
“‘Bye.” And the large front door closed.
First Mabel insisted on showing Jude all her dolls and cuddly toys in the playroom. They were arrayed in a long line on the windowsill. “They’re here so that Henry can’t reach them when he crawls. He can’t crawl yet, but when he can crawl he won’t be able to reach my dolls and cuddlies.”