Page 76 of A Curious Ending

When Lara relayed this, Mrs M said caustically, ‘But I don’t.’

Lara found herself pleading, ‘Will you trust me, Mrs M?’

Mrs M sighed. ‘Is this all to do with her Ladyship?’

‘Yes,’ Lara confirmed.

‘Oh, Lara… if I must.’

Lara thought Mrs M sounded exhausted.

Abby thought Mrs M was crying.

The rest of the day was spent in preparations for the evening. This involved a visit to the potting shed via the back gate. Abby spent some time inside with Thomas, but Lara had no idea what was said. Abby had just muttered something about wanting to give Thomas some tobacco as a thank you for helping the previous evening. Lara wasn’t deceived. Abby never muttered. As Lara stood outside waiting, she looked around for any more china. There was none, but there was the strong smell of pipe smoke.

After that, Lara called Sarah and Kate. Neither had heard any more news about the fate of Jason Honeybourne or Dr Patil, despite Kate using her not inconsiderable powers of persuasion on PC Doherty. All he had said was that it was to do with Lady Porter… and others. This led to speculation about serial killers preying on rich older women. Then Lara remembered Abby’s comment about the ‘the right man’, but she didn’t think she could explain to her friends why she believed only one of those carted off by the police was involved.

They were both intrigued by the very sketchy plan she outlined to them about drinks with Mrs M. Both claimed that Lara was keeping them in the dark. But as Lara was in the dark herself there was little she could say in response to this.

It was Kate who ended her call by impersonating Hercule Poirot, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, you may wonder why I have gathered you all together this evening.’

Chapter 39

The kitchen felt very different from when Lara had visited it in Lady Porter’s day. It was a large room, but it now felt crowded. Was this, Lara thought, because she was so acutely conscious of each and every person who was gathered around? She glanced towards Sarah and Kate who were standing beside Mrs M at the Aga chatting and she experienced a wave of reassurance. Abby was positioned just behind Lara’s left shoulder and she suddenly thought of the film The Devil Wears Prada when Anne Hathaway’s character discreetly fed vital information into her boss, Meryl Streep’s ear. Not that she felt like anyone’s boss. More like Abby’s puppet. Tonight, she knew she would be her voice piece, and she had only the vaguest notion of what she was going to say to the assembled guests. For a moment, she wished none of this had happened and she was curled up on the sofa with Abby watching The Devil Wears Prada. With her love of clothes, she was certain Abby would enjoy it. Tonight, she was wearing a gown of pale blue crepe tied at the waist with a cord of gold tassels. Lara gave herself a mental shake. There was no turning back, no cosily watching films with Abby. For without Lady Porter’s murder there would be no Abby.

Lara busied herself pouring drinks and started to hand these around. Joe smiled as she handed him a glass and raised enquiring eyebrows at her, before going to join Mrs M, Sarah and Kate. The room was now divided: Kate, Sarah, Mrs M and Joe together in a group by the Aga, Sarah helping Mrs M unload sausage rolls and cheese straws from baking trays, the Porters standing close together by the kitchen table, heads bent together, Richard talking to Pinky in an urgent whisper. Richard looked angry and flushed and Lara noticed a sheen of sweat on his upper lip as she handed him and Pinky drinks. Pinky refused to meet Lara’s eye.

‘You would hardly credit that this was the same woman who availed herself of the hospitality of your spare room,’ Abby commented, moving in step with Lara like her shadow. Abby noticed that Pinky was also studiously avoiding another person’s eye.

The final person in the room was Julian Armstrong, looking to Abby’s mind more like the notorious Major Norton than ever. There was a nod towards military in the design of his tie and his back was ramrod straight. Currently, his back was all that he offered the room as he stared out of the French window into the darkness of the garden beyond. However, the very set of his shoulders clearly communicated his anger and frustration.

‘How on earth did you get Julian here?’ Lara asked Mrs M quietly, as she handed round the rest of the drinks.

Mrs M scoffed, ‘That wasn’t hard. Always on the make is Mr Armstrong. I just told him that the Porters were thinking of selling and that I might be too.’

Earlier they had all witnessed the spectacle of Julian sidling up to the Honourable Richard with silky overtures and offers of ‘personal attention’. Richard had boggled at him and barked, ‘What are you on about? Of course we’re not selling. And we’ve had quite enough of your “personal attention”. Thank you!’

Pinky had turned a scarlet face away from both men.

Mrs M continued, ‘I knew Mr Armstrong wouldn’t pass up the chance to be first in on a sale opportunity.’

Something made Abby pause. ‘Ask Mrs M if she really is thinking of selling?’

Lara did so.

Mrs M gave her a long look. ‘I think you could say that Julian might find himself closing the stable door—’ She was interrupted by a ring at the front door.

‘I’ll get that,’ Kate offered.

Before Lara could ask Mrs M about her cryptic comment, Julian turned and spoke, ‘Well, as charming as no doubt all of this is, I can’t hang around here.’

‘You will stay exactly where you are.’

Everyone turned and stared at Mrs M. No one had ever heard her use this tone of voice before. It brooked no argument. For an instant, Lara wondered if Maggie Linton had picked up a piece of wood with a nail in it by sheer chance, or whether she had placed the weapon ready to hand. She also found that the voice reminded her in an indefinable way of Lady Porter.

‘That’s all very well…’ It was Richard Porter who for some reason was ranging himself on Julian Armstrong’s side.

Mrs M cut him off at the knees. She cast him a look of contempt. ‘How you could call yourself her son, I wonder at you. I really do. We’re here to talk about her Ladyship. And that is what we’re going to do. Whatever,’ she drew her shoulders back, ‘whatever the outcome is. It can’t be hidden anymore. It is now a police matter.’