Yet, having nearly brought about the end of the world, Mrs. Billings went on to save the day. “Has somebody had a nosebleed?” she asked. “You should soak it in water.”
Gratefully, I took it from her, also pinching it between my thumb and forefinger, and turned on the tap.
“Cold water for blood,” Mrs. Billings said. “Soak it in cold water for a couple of hours, then put some Vanish on when you put it in the washing machine. That’ll get rid of it.”
“Thank you,” I said. Thank you, thank you, thank you,thank you. I turned the hot tap off and the cold tap on. I didn’t think we had any Vanish, though, or any other kind of stain remover. James always bought new stuff if anything got stained. “Cuppa?”
“Please, love,” Mrs. Billings said. She said no more, but she didn’t take her eyes off the bag as I nudged it farther out of the way, set the kettle to boil, and put the biscuits out. I ate one, then I ate another in one bite. Then another. I hadn’t eaten breakfast and I was starving. As soon as I ate one biscuit, I found I couldn’t stop.
“Cravings, Lady Langley, love?” Mrs. B asked me, with a glint in her eye, although she must have known almost as well as I did howunlikely that was. The chances of cravings became less every day; I was at an age where every time I had to take my cardigan off, I wondered if this was the first hot flash.
“Peckish,” I said. I couldn’t tell her I hadn’t had breakfast—that would be so unheard-of. It would be enough on its own to bring the police running round. Mrs. B grabbed a couple for herself before there were none left.
Then she turned the radio on. The Billingses listened to a local community radio station while they worked and that was what it was tuned to. They were playing requests; we listened to a recent chart topper, followed by Frank Sinatra, then an eighties classic, and then, the news bulletin, a national overview, followed by an update for the county. My blood ran cold as I heard the headline for the local news.
“Concern is growing as to the whereabouts of TV personality Lennie Green, who was last seen at a charity event near his home in Great Beadington.”
Mrs. Billings leaped to her feet with a speed I didn’t know she had and turned the volume up. She stood there, hovering over it for the rest of the item, but there wasn’t much more.
“No one has seen or heard from him since he left the event, which family say is out of character. Police are asking him to make contact, or for anyone with any information to come forward.”
“Goodness me,” Mrs. Billings said, looking white as a sheet. “I hope he’s alright.”
“Did you know him?” I asked, wincing at the past tense, but Mrs. Billings didn’t notice.
“Not personally, but he was quite the heartthrob when I was a young girl. Been a fan all my life.”
“Was he famous, then?” I reminded myself too late:ishe famous.That could be why he’d looked familiar when I’d first seen him.
“Oh yeah. Probably before your time,” Mrs. Billings said. “He must be getting on a bit now. I do hope they find him safe and sound. Done all sorts for the area.”
Mrs. B took another biscuit to steady herself after the shock. She offered the packet to me, and I trembled as I reached for it.
“Are you alright, Lady Langley, love?”
I nearly broke. Suddenly, I wanted to unburden myself, to tell Mrs. Billings what had happened the night before, how it wasn’t my fault and how James had made me help him hide the body. I wanted to have her forgiveness and her reassurance that it wasn’t that bad, I wasn’t to blame and everyone would forgive me. Even Lennie’s family. In fact, I wanted her to say we’d all end up the best of friends.
But she’d only just heard about Lennie, and she’d need time to come to terms with it. Plus she thought he was only missing. It would be quite a leap for her to come round to the fact that he was dead and buried, on our estate, and we all had to move on. She might not be ready to take such a pragmatic view; the initial shock might cause her to do something foolish, like telling the police. An action she’d come to regret, I was sure, but not as much as I would. So, I kept my guilty conscience to myself; I’d wait until she’d learned to live in a world without Lennie.
And anyway, the previous night James had risked everything for me. I was the one who had run Lennie over, I would have been in the firing line if we’d been caught, but he had taken control and saved me from myself. After all, I’d been about to call 999. It would be ungrateful of me to let the cat out of the bag and get us both in trouble. I couldn’t just think of myself now.
Instead, I said, “Yes, yes. Still a bit tired from last night, heavynight.” I corrected myself: “No, it wasn’t. I didn’t drink. A late night last night. Late, but not heavy.” We fell quiet as the radio presenter warned us of busy traffic and delays.
Mrs. Billings looked at me for a moment, then said, “You’re looking peaky if you ask me. Maybe you should go for a rest.”
“Maybe.”
Drained from the stress of the morning, I left Mrs. Billings to finish her tea and biscuits, although I was usually there to the end, willing her to stay and chat longer. I took Lennie’s bag to my room and shoved it to the back of the wardrobe.
Next I took a pottery cherub out of Mrs. Billings’s drawer of loot and carried it through to the lounge, where I put it on a small table behind the sofa. Then I turned the TV on and waited, staring atThis Morningwithout hearing a word as Mrs. B bustled her way around for a couple of hours.
While I waited, I realized where James’s phone might be. The last place I had seen him with it was in the mausoleum, just before we hauled Lennie’s body in. I thought he had put it in his pocket after that, and I remembered him leaning over the corpse for a while. The chances seemed high that he had dropped it in the mausoleum.
Which got me to thinking about Lennie’s phone. At that very moment it could be on the premises, emitting its little rays for the police to come and track him down. At any minute it could ring and that very memorable ringtone could rip through the house. Or the graveyard, if it was in his pocket, as it had been at the party. Could it? I wondered. Was it loud enough to be heard through the mausoleum walls? It would terrify anyone who did, especially if it rang at night.
I didn’t want to go back to the mausoleum; I wanted to just tellJames where his phone was and let him go and get it. He could look for Lennie’s at the same time.Butif Lennie’s was in that mausoleum and it rang, I did not want to bet my freedom on the likelihood of it not being audible from outside. And the news bulletin had said concern was growing. It seemed fair to think Lennie’s nearest and dearest would be calling him.
Still, it might be in his bag. I waited until I heard Mrs. B revving up the vacuum cleaner, then I ran to the bedroom, where I pulled the bag out of the wardrobe and tipped the contents onto the bed. No phone. I checked the bag for pockets and compartments. Nothing. I shook it again. Nothing. I stared at his memoir, a set of keys, a cigarette lighter, a few pens, a blue inhaler, willing it to materialize, but it wasn’t there. I stuffed the items back into the bag and the bag back into the wardrobe.
