Helen debated with herself whether to continue waiting or maybe catch Ruth another day, except she had no idea when Ruth would be in the office again. Then she spotted her aunt’s handbag on the floor beside the desk, and decided to snoop. She had no reason to, other than feeling bloody-minded. And, she had to admit, a hope that Ruth would come back and say … well, something. Anything to take away the feeling that nobody could be bothered with her. That she was nothing but a nuisance.
But there was nothing interesting in Ruth’s handbag, so she tried the desk drawers instead. There had to be something personal somewhere. Even though it was an office, it wasn’t right that there was so little life in it.
But the desk drawers contained only stationary. She was thinking about turning on her aunt’s computer when her eyes fell on the grandfather clock. It was one of those longcase clocks with a pendulum and weights, the kind that would tick so loudly the sound would fill the office. Except this one was either broken or hadn’t been wound in a while, because it wasn’t ticking.
On impulse she opened the door to the pendulum casing. Nothing looked broken, but then again, she wasn’t an expert on clocks. Then she noticed something at the bottom, reached down, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in chamois leather.
The parcel was long and thin, heavier at one end than the other, and she unwrapped it carefully.
Inside was one of the missing paper knives.
Her head spun. Which knife was it? Her mother would never have given it to Ruth, certainly not after the vitriol Ruth had spouted about Mimi earlier, which meant either way she’d stolen it. But from Mimi or Fay?
Her headache grew, became a steady thumping in her skull. She needed to lie down, but was damned if she was going to do that here – she might wake up with a paper knife in her own throat.
The sound of the phone ringing in the secretary’s office reminded her that the door might be opened at any moment, so she closed the clock again and put the knife in her rucksack. She was back in the secretary’s front office just as Ruth appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘Did you want something?’
‘I was just leaving.’
Ruth made a face which might have been a smile, and her features softened. ‘You don’t have to, you know. Leave, I mean.’
‘Perhaps it was better if I did.’
‘Why don’t you come in?’ Ruth went back into her office. Helen shrugged and followed her, watching as her aunt opened the onyx globe which housed a small bar and poured herself a gin. ‘Would you like a drink?’
Despite there being nothing personal in Ruth’s office, the bar was well-stocked, Helen noted. Funny how drinks were a requirement for some people in their working environment.
‘I’m all right. But thanks.’
Her aunt closed the globe again and turned, tumbler in hand. ‘I’d like to try and make things better between us. I think we got off on the wrong foot when I saw you at Mother’s.’
‘There’s an understatement,’ Helen muttered.
‘I’m just not sure where to start. Perhaps we should get some questions out of the way first. I imagine you must have plenty.’
‘I’d like to know more about my mother. What she was like and all that. Your relationship.’ And why you’re in possession of her paper knife, she nearly said, but decided to keep that to herself for the time being. There had to be a way of using it to her advantage.
‘My sister often tells me I need to clear my conscience,’ said Ruth. ‘So I’ll be frank. You may not want to hear this, but I’m going to say it anyway. Please don’t judge me too harshly. I was so jealous of your mum. She was beautiful and successful, knew what she wanted. And she was a mother. She had Aggie’s ear, and not many people can lay claim to that. Cantankerous old bat.’ This time her grimace definitely was a smile, a rueful one. ‘Whatever she touched, it turned to gold. I really resented her.’
‘But it didn’t,’ Helen protested. ‘It wasn’t all gold and jewels and half the kingdom. Her husband died very young, and her child – me – has epilepsy. I can drop dead at any time, did you know that? “Sudden death in epilepsy”, they call it. How’s that for happy ever after?’
‘I see all that now, but back then, I had a thing about your mother. An obsession I suppose. And then there was that nonsense with Jeremy.’
‘Aggie called your ex-husband a “disaster”.’
‘Mother says the strangest things sometimes.’
‘Was he unfaithful to you? With my mother?’
Ruth sighed, then nodded.
‘When your father died, she needed a shoulder to cry on. She could’ve taken her pick of men, but for some reason she chose my husband.’