Renata had been baking all morning, and the tea tray was loaded with scones and jam and cream, and a perfect chocolate sponge, so light that Roy had two large wedges and even Ivy asked for just a tiny second slice. Their cups were refilled with fresh tea and diluted to requirement with hot water from a silver jug. Everywhere there was evidence of wealth, and Ivy relaxed. At least there was no danger for them here, no poisoners or conspirators.
“Do tell us more about your family,” she said to Renata. “Other people’s lives fascinate me. I was so confined in a small village all my life,” she added, ignoring the truth that this had, in fact, been entirely her own choice.
“Ah, well, where shall I begin?” asked Renata.
“At the beginning,” said Roy jovially. He, too, was enjoying himself. Goodness, what a difference Ivy had made to his life. He had been coasting along to a final wooden box exit from Springfields, when this wonderful new adventure had come along, and all because of Ivy.
Renata then told them about her marriage to Char-lie Bentall, and his distant relation a generation back, known as Buster because of his initial zealous drive to bust through all the corruption he found at the town hall when elected Mayor. “His family were proud of him,” she said. “O’ course, my husband Charlie’s parents were from another branch of the Bentalls, but the doings of the mayor’s daughter were juicy gossip for all. Caroline was Buster’s only child, and he doted on her. At the same time, she had no freedom and had to do exactly as he said, poor thing. My mother used to say no wonder she went off the rails.”
“Oh dear,” said Ivy. “How was that?”
“Oh, the usual,” Renata said casually. “Got herself pregnant, no husband, nor any likelihood of one. Produced twins, had them parked out with a couple somewhere, then later on got married to one of the no-good Jessops. Our Jessop lot came from a northern branch of the family originally, and needless to say wanted nothing to do with the Oakbridge clan. So then Caroline had another baby girl, and reclaimed Beattie. That was the girl twin. They said Caroline’s Jessop husband beat her up, but we never heard the truth of that. Oh, goodness,” she added, “this must be so boring for you! Do tell me more about yourselves?”
“So Caroline married a Jessop, and later on you married a Bentall?” asked Ivy.
“That’s right. I suppose my Jessops and Charlie’s Bentalls were like a Greek chorus standing on the side of the stage, watching Caroline’s tragedy unfold.”
Ivy made a mental note, and then said, “Go on, then. I’ve never met anybody related to a town mayor.”
Renata returned to telling them of the rumours about Caroline and the terrible time when she went missing. “Never found, you know. The boy twin, Keith, stayed with his foster parents and was not heard of again in the family. It was difficult to trace him, as they were not official foster parents, just a couple of people on the make, paid by Buster. And they did a bunk at some stage. Nobody knows where they went, or Keith himself, for that matter. I heard he’d changed his name, though goodness knows what he calls himself now.”
“So nobody knew who the twins’ father was? How sad,” Ivy said, trying her best to make it sound like a casual question.
Renata thought for a moment. “I don’t really remember,” she said, “except my mother said that there was a rumour that Caroline had been seen several times all dressed up, getting into a car driven by a good-looking man with a big moustache. The rumour died away, like they all do in the end, and eventually everything settled down.”
“I can see it must all have been a big shock to the Bentall family at the time,” Ivy said, trying to keep herself calm. “A bit like when my father died and we discovered he’d had at least three mistresses, all of whom came to the funeral!” And may God forgive me, she added to herself, for such black lies.
Renata laughed. “Do tell, but first you must have another sliver of cake. And you, Roy,” she added. “I do think we should be on Christian name terms, don’t you, Ivy? I am sure we’re going to be great friends.”
The rest of the visit passed very pleasantly, until at four thirty precisely there was a knock at the door, indicating the taxi had arrived. Ivy was irritated to see that they had a different driver, and although he was perfectly polite, more polite than the other man, she took an instant dislike to him. Oily, she said to herself, much too oily.
They drove away from Renata’s house and Roy waved enthusiastically until they were out of sight. “What a nice woman,” he said.
“And a very nice chocolate cake,” said Ivy. “Shall you manage your supper?”
Roy laughed. “You had just as much as me, Ivy,” he said. “All those tiny little extra slivers added up to my wedges, you know.”
Ivy did not answer. She was looking to left and right as they drove through the town. “Is this the right way?” she said. “I don’t remember that new supermarket over there. I am sure I would have noticed. Ugly great place, you couldn’t miss it!”
Roy peered out of the window. Ivy was right. They were definitely on a different route. “Hey, where are you going?” he said to the driver, tapping him on the shoulder. “This is the wrong way out of the town.”
“Got to make a call,” he said gruffly, all his politeness vanished.
“We aren’t paying you to make private calls!” Ivy said sharply.
The driver did not answer, but stopped the car and got out. They could see him making a call on his mobile, and it lasted a good five minutes. Roy said crossly that they did not need to stand for this, and he would walk back with Ivy and find another taxi. “Not far, Ivy,” he said, “I’ll give you a hand.” He took hold of the door handle. “It’s locked!” he said.
At that point the driver returned, and without looking at them or answering their questions about the locked doors, he drove off and switched on the radio at what sounded to them like full volume. Roy looked anxiously at Ivy, who was sitting up ramrod straight, with closed eyes.
“Ivy? Are you all right?” he said.
“I’m thinking,” she said. After a few minutes she turned to him and whispered behind her hand, “He’s one of them.”
“One of who?” Roy mouthed back to her.
The driver turned his head and said loudly, “Shut up, both of you!”
After that, they said nothing, and Roy wondered why Ivy was looking so fixedly at the back of the driver’s head. In fact, she was looking past his head and at his reflection in the driving mirror. It was obvious, and she was amazed Roy hadn’t noticed it. The eyes and mouth were Beattie Beatty’s. Even his voice had the same inflections, the same slight hesitation at the beginning of sentences. This was not surprising, she realised with horror, as the pair of them were twins.
Fifty-one
THE TAXI WAS going very slowly, but the radio continued at full blast. Ivy and Roy sat motionless, holding hands in the backseat. The driver hummed to himself, and when he knew the words, joined in with the blaring music. Roy reckoned they were about halfway home, though he couldn’t be sure. It was an unfamiliar route, but he vaguely remembered that it ended up as a grassy track that led straight to the Hall.
Suddenly the driver switched off the radio. “Had a nice time this afternoon, did you?” he said, seeming more relaxed.
“Very pleasant, thank you,” Ivy said. To Roy’s amazement, she seemed quite calm and collected. “Now will you tell us why we are not taking the proper route back to Barrington. And why we are locked in?”
“Locked in for your own safety,” he said. “Company policy. Sorry you don’t like this way home,” he added. “It is a bit longer, but much nicer landscape. And anyway,” he continued, his voice changing back to its coarse rasp, “it’ll give you time to put your twos and twos together. What is it you call yourselves? Enquire Within, is it? Very subtle. I know what I’d call it.”