to Claude. She walked quickly towards the house, joined her mother and Gideon on the steps, took Sybil’s arm and led her indoors. Claude stared after them, turned towards Verity, changed his mind and sloped off in the direction of the trees.
‘It wasna on any invitation of mine he came,’ said Bruce hotly. ‘He worrumed the information oot of me.’
‘I can well believe it,’ said Verity.
Gideon came to them.
‘It’s all right,’ he said to Verity. ‘Prue’s taking Mrs Foster up to her room.’ And to Bruce, ‘Perhaps you could wait in the entrance hall until Miss Prunella comes down.’
‘I’ll do that, sir, thank you,’ Bruce said and went indoors.
Gideon smiled down at Verity. He had, she thought, an engaging smile. ‘What a very bumpy sort of a visit,’ he said.
‘How was it shaping up? Before Charmless Claude intervened?’
‘Might have been worse, I suppose. Not much worse, though. The reverse of open arms and cries of rapturous welcome. You must have done some wonderful softening-up, Miss Preston, for her to receive me at all. We couldn’t be more grateful.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking but is there – is she – Prue’s mother – I don’t know how to say it. Is there something –?’ He touched his face.
‘I know what you mean. Yes. There is.’
‘I only wondered.’
‘It’s new.’
‘I think Prue’s seen it. Prue’s upset. She managed awfully well but she is upset.’
‘Prue’s explained Charmless Claude, has she?’
‘Yes. Pretty ghastly specimen. She coped marvellously,’ said Gideon proudly.
‘Here she comes.’
When Prunella joined them she was white-faced but perfectly composed. ‘We can go now,’ she said and got into the car.
‘Where’s your bag?’ asked Gideon.
‘What? Oh, damn; said Prunella, ‘I’ve left it up there. Oh, what a fool! Now I’ll have to go back.’
‘Shall I?’
‘It’s in her room. And she’s been pretty beastly to you.’
‘Perhaps I could better myself by a blithe change of manner.’
‘What a good idea,’ cried Prunella. ‘Yes, do let’s try it. Say she looks like Mrs Onassis.’
‘She doesn’t. Not remotely. Nobody less.’
‘She thinks she does.’
‘One can but try,’ Gideon said. ‘There’s nothing to lose.’
‘No more there is.’
He was gone for longer than they expected. When he returned with Prunella’s bag he looked dubious. He started up the car and drove off.
‘Any good?’ Prunella ventured.
‘She didn’t actually throw anything at me.’
‘Oh,’ said Prunella. ‘Like that, was it?’
She was very quiet on the homeward drive. Verity, in the back seat, saw her put her hand on Gideon’s knee. He laid his own hand briefly over it and looked down at her. He knows exactly how to handle her, Verity thought. There’s going to be no doubt about who’s the boss.
When they arrived at Keys she asked them to come in for a drink but Gideon said his father would be expecting them.
‘I’ll see Godma V in,’ said Prue as Gideon prepared to do so.
She followed Verity indoors and kissed and thanked her very prettily. Then she said, ‘About Mummy. Has she had a stroke?’
‘My dear child, why?’
‘You noticed. I could see you did.’
‘I don’t think it looked like that. In any case they – the doctor – would have let you know if anything serious was wrong.’
‘P’raps he didn’t know. He may not be a good doctor. Sorry, I forgot he was a friend.’
‘He’s not. Not to matter.’
‘I think I’ll ring him up. I think there’s something wrong. Honestly, don’t you?’
‘I did wonder.’
‘And yet –’
‘What?’
‘In a funny sort of way she seemed – well – excited, pleased.’
‘I thought so, too.’
‘It’s very odd,’ said Prunella. ‘Everything was odd. Out of focus, kind of. Anyway, I will ring up that doctor. I’ll ring him tomorrow. Do you think that’s a good idea?’
Verity said, ‘Yes, darling. I do. It should put your mind at rest.’
But it was going to be a long time before Prunella’s mind would be in that enviable condition.
VII
At five minutes past nine that evening, Sister Jackson, the resident nurse at Greengages, paused at Sybil Foster’s door. She could hear the television. She tapped, opened and after a long pause approached the bed. Five minutes later she left the room and walked rather quickly down the passage.
At eleven o’clock Dr Schramm telephoned Prunella to tell her that her mother was dead.
Basil looked distinguished, Verity had to admit, exactly as he ought to look under the circumstances, and he behaved as one would wish him to behave, with dignity and propriety, with deference and with precisely the right shade of controlled emotion.
‘I had no reason whatever to suspect that, beyond symptoms of nervous exhaustion which had markedly improved, there was anything the matter,’ he said. ‘I feel I must add that I am astonished that she should have taken this step. She was in the best of spirits when I last saw her.’
‘When was that, Dr Schramm?’ asked the Coroner.
‘On that same morning. About eight o’clock. I was going up to London and looked in on some of my patients before I left. I did not get back to Greengages until a few minutes after ten in the evening.’
‘To find?’
‘To find that she had died.’
‘Can you describe the circumstances?’
‘Yes. She had asked me to get a book for her in London – the autobiography of a Princess somebody – I forget the name. I went to her room to deliver it. Our bedrooms are large and comfortable and are often used as sitting-rooms. I have been told that she went up to hers late that afternoon. Long before her actual bedtime. She had dinner there, watching television. I knocked and there was no reply but I could hear the television and presumed that because of it she had not heard me. I went in. She was in bed and lying on her back. Her bedside table-lamp was on and I saw at once that a bottle of tablets was overturned and several – five, in fact – were scattered over the surface of the table. Her drinking glass was empty but had been used and was lying on the floor. Subsequently, a faint trace of alcohol – whisky – was found in the glass. A small whisky bottle, empty, was on the table. She sometimes used to take a modest nightcap. Her jug of water was almost empty. I examined her and found