‘I care about it too. But I’ve learned something my mother didn’t, that some things are far more important. Things like trust and friendship. A home.’
‘That’s true. I wish …’ Ruth’s lips trembled briefly. ‘Well, never mind that now. I need you on my side if I’m going to take a more active role in the company. With our shares between us we can make it happen.’
‘I am on your side. At least I was until Fay was run over. It was deliberate, and it’s possible they were after me.’
Ruth paled. ‘You don’t think I had anything to do with that?’
‘Of course not. I had another candidate in mind.’
‘Who?’
‘One of the shareholders. Moody. You mentioned him yesterday.’
‘Moody?’ Ruth raised her eyebrows. ‘If you die, and have no named beneficiaries in your will, then according to the Ransome’s memorandum of association Letitia and I will get first invitation to buy your stake in the company. Neither of us are poor by any means, but we can’t afford to buy the lot. Moody can.’
If you die …
‘What are you saying?’ Helen’s throat felt dry.
Ruth produced a set of keys from her handbag, unclipped one from the keyring and handed it to Helen. ‘It’s for Letitia’s flat. She says she’s no longer involved with Moody, but I think she’s in trouble. If you can find anything we can use against him, perhaps we can help her. She may have to go to prison, but at least she won’t be hurt. Just don’t let her catch you snooping. She hates that.’
‘Won’t she be in?’
‘No, she left for Amsterdam this afternoon. It seems our mother’s death isn’t worth taking a day off for.’ Ruth stroked Helen’s cheek, then retracted her hand as if she’d burned herself, and left.
Helen slipped the key in her pocket. She wasn’t so naïve she couldn’t see Ruth was using her and that the rivalry between the sisters was still going strong.
That wasn’t what bothered her.
Ruth had mentioned beneficiaries. Helen had made a will. When she’d filled in the will form in Sweetman’s office, she had, on a whim and as an up-yours against her half-family, named Jason as her main beneficiary, then brought home a signed copy for her own files.
She’d left her rucksack on her bed and the door wide open, then forgotten about it when Fay was run over. Jason had no compunction about looking through her things. What would he make of it if he saw it?
More to the point, what would his father make of it if he broke in again?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When she returned to the ward, Charlie wasn’t there. As she looked up and down the corridor, the duty nurse caught up with her.
‘Oh, there you are. Your friend has woken up, so you can go in.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But only a few minutes,’ the nurse warned. ‘She’s very weak and needs rest.’
The ICU room was directly across from a nurses’ monitoring station. Helen stopped in the doorway at the sight of Fay with tubes and wires coming out of absolutely everywhere. Her face, hands and arms were riddled with cuts and bruises like an extra in a horror movie, and through a blanket covering her to her waist, Helen could see the outline of a cast.
Charlie was by the bed, holding Fay’s hand and stroking her white hair which lay spread like a halo across her pillow, while Fay rested with her eyes closed.
It’s all my fault, Helen thought, her throat constricting. If only she’d taken Moody seriously.
Instead she’d done exactly as she pleased, as always. Her obsession with finding out the truth and with what she saw as total abandonment on Aggie’s part had made her blind to the kindness around her. And now Fay was lying here, having suffered possible lasting damage, all because of her own bloody-mindedness.
She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t stay at the house. She had to get away from them all before something else happened.
Turning away, she walked back towards the lift. Under the pretext of wanting to protect her sister, Ruth had given her a job, and that was what she planned to do. Screw the consequences.
‘Wait!’ Charlie ran after her. ‘Where are you going? Don’t you want to see Fay?’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s in there because of me.’
‘Don’t be stupid. It was an accident.’
Helen shook her head. ‘No, it wasn’t. That car came for me.’
‘Are you sure? Why do you say that?’ A couple of chairs stood against the wall opposite the lift. Charlie dragged her down into one of them. ‘For God’s sake, talk to me!’