Beatrice shook her head as if to rid herself of the images she had conjured up and then leaned forwards.
‘Helena wrote letters telling me father was gaga, detailing how she washed him and put a diaper on after he shit himself. She fed him and rocked him to sleep, like the baby her skinny body could never conceive. I never wanted to see her again, even when I knew she was in a care home.’
Jane waited, not wanting to interrupt Beatrice’s flow.
‘Did you ever talk to her?’ Beatrice asked.
Jane shook her head. ‘No, I only visited the care home shortly before she died.’
Beatrice went on. ‘When the call came in the middle of the night I was so surprised to hear her voice. She had strange voice, a very particular way of talking, always very quiet.’
Beatrice cupped her hand up to her ear as if speaking into a phone and mimicked her sister.
‘“Hello, Beatrice, I have been working on finishing Daddy’s family tree. It has taken me such a long time, but I know your secret now and I will make you pay for it.”’
Beatrice raised her hands in a dramatic gesture.
‘Knowing she was already suffering from early onset dementia, I asked what on earth was she talking about. Then in that sing-song tone she just repeated the name David and then said Jason’s name and I knew she had found out. Then she hung up. I did try to contact her many times after that, but she always put the phone down or Arnold answered and said she was resting.’
Beatrice stood up, shaking her head. ‘At first I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell Jason the truth for fear of what it would do to the poor soul. He never had the acumen to run a business and was always trusting the wrong people. Out of the blue, Arnold wrote to me expressing his concern for Helena’s health and questioning the money she was paying us. I made Jason go to London and tell Helena I would no longer keep her secrets, unless she gave him power of attorney and made us beneficiaries in her will.’
‘Do you think Arnold Hadley knew about Jason?’
‘Not a lot got past him, and dear God, if I’d known they got married and she changed her will I would have done something about it a lot sooner. It’s clear now Helena didn’t want us to know as I might decide to reveal our father’s abuse.’
Jane thought Beatrice was probably right. The two sisters were, in many ways, as devious as each other.
Jane was now desperate for Beatrice to leave. ‘Mrs Thorpe, I have a really bad headache. I’m going to call you a taxi...’
Beatrice shrugged. ‘It’s all right, Jason is waiting outside. But you have to understand the depth of his frustration and disappointment. The only successful thing he ever did was taking over the Stockwell property and developing it into flats. Then that became a financial mess, so he had to make the decision to sell...’
With Jason waiting outside, Jane knew she couldn’t force Beatrice out, especially now she clearly wanted to talk.
‘He was so confident and proud of himself, but then came the threat to our inheritance, and the very thing I had hoped would never surface, her threat to reveal his true parentage. He’d always believed me to be his birth mother.’
‘He doesn’t know you’re his stepmother?’
‘No... and he never will, now I’ve burned those papers. I told him we needed them to contest Helena’s will. Like the fool that he is, he believed me.’
Beatrice sobbed, her bracelet jangling as she wiped her eyes. ‘Jason would never be accepted by that girl in Melbourne, or her family, if they found out he was a bankrupt who had lost everything and had no inheritance to look forward to. Looking back, I was foolish to encourage his business ventures, the poor boy is so inept.’
Jane pressed her body back into the sofa as Beatrice moved closer and closer. She decided not to mention Helena’s letter of confession and her accusations against Beatrice, fearing it would make matters worse. She also now regretted giving DCI Carter a copy, fearing the contents would become public knowledge.
‘I know you could have us arrested, but I am begging you... now that you know everything, please, please let him fly back to Australia. I’ll get on my knees to you... let him go... you can arrest me if you want.’
She held her wrists out to Jane in a theatrical gesture, as if waiting to be handcuffed.
‘Please, just go now, Mrs Thorpe,’ Jane said firmly. ‘I want you to leave.’
‘What are you going to do? Because you could also be in trouble, you know. You stole my photographs, Helena’s album and her family tree. But I’m prepared to do nothing about it. Jason never meant to hurt you...’
Jane sighed. ‘Tell him to go back to Australia.’
‘You won’t arrest us or tell anyone what happened tonight?’
Jane shook her head.
‘Can you give me your word on that?’ Beatrice pleaded.
‘You have my word,’ Jane replied, knowing that if Beatrice told DCI Carter Jane had stolen the photographs from the boathouse her career, and DC Tim Taylor’s, could be seriously damaged, if not over.
She watched as Beatrice walked into the kitchen, appearing moments later in the open doorway with her handbag, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.
‘I will pay for any damages,’ she said.
Jane tried to stand up and had to put her hand on the edge of the sofa arm to steady herself. She almost fainted with relief when Beatrice finally left, and the front door closed behind her. She slowly made her way to the window and saw Beatrice caught in the glare of the security light as she walked down the path towards Jason, who had got out of the car to greet her. Beatrice held out her arms and he embraced her as if his life depended on her, as in so many ways it did.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Early the following morning, Eddie let himself into the house carrying a large bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. He went into the kitchen to get two glasses, then stopped abruptly at the sight of broken glass and a smashed plate on the floor. Then he saw the open back door, which had been splintered where it had been forced.
He hastily put the flowers and the champagne on the kitchen table and hurried into the hall, pausing at the sight of the dust sheet on the ground, with an empty whisky bottle beside it. From the hall he could see the paint-stripper lying on the floor next to the sofa. Starting up the stairs Eddie stopped to pick up the discarded bath towel, now becoming very concerned. He called out Jane’s name, but there was no response. He sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, and when he reached the landing, he saw the broken bathroom door. Panic-stricken, he crossed to Jane’s bedroom door and tried to open it. The door appeared to be wedged shut so he pushed hard against it with his shoulder until it opened a fraction, and he was able to put his hand inside. He discovered that a chair had been hooked up under the handle.
‘Jane? JANE?’ Eddie shouted, managing to dislodge the chair and make his way into the bedroom.
Jane woke up and screamed, then fell back on the bed when she saw who it was.
Eddie raced to her side. ‘Dear God! What on earth happened here? Are you all right?’
He had his arms around her as she clung to him, repeating over and over that she was all right. She was so thankful that it was him, and she didn’t want to let him go. By the time they had both calmed down Jane said she wanted to get up and get dressed.
Eddie took her dressing gown from the hook on the back of her door, insisting that she was not going to do anything until she told him exactly what had happened. As he gently helped her into it, he told her what he had discovered after letting himself in.
‘I was in a right state when I saw that the back door had been broken, almost off its hinges and your bedroom door was wedged shut...’