Spider’s Web

CHAPTER 3

‘Hmm. Smashing bun,’ said Pippa with her mouth full, as she closed the door behind her and wiped her sticky fingers on her skirt.

‘Hello, there,’ Jeremy greeted her. ‘How was school today?’

‘Pretty foul,’ Pippa responded cheerfully as she put what was left of the bun on the table. ‘It was World Affairs today.’ She opened her satchel. ‘Miss Wilkinson loves World Affairs. But she’s terribly wet. She can’t keep the class in order.’

As Pippa took a book out of her satchel, Jeremy asked her, ‘What’s your favourite subject?’

‘Biology,’ was Pippa’s immediate and enthusiastic answer. ‘It’s heaven. Yesterday we dissected a frog’s leg.’ She pushed her book in his face. ‘Look what I got at the second-hand bookstall. It’s awfully rare, I’m sure. Over a hundred years old.’

‘What is it, exactly?’

‘It’s a kind of recipe book,’ Pippa explained. She opened the book. ‘It’s thrilling, absolutely thrilling.’

‘But what’s it all about?’ Jeremy wanted to know.

Pippa was already enthralled by her book. ‘What?’ she murmured as she turned its pages.

‘It certainly seems very absorbing,’ he observed.

‘What?’ Pippa repeated, still engrossed in the book. To herself she murmured, ‘Gosh!’ as she turned another page.

‘Evidently a good tuppenny-worth,’ Jeremy commented, and picked up a newspaper.

Apparently puzzled by what she was reading in the book, Pippa asked him, ‘What’s the difference between a wax candle and a tallow candle?’

Jeremy considered for a moment before replying. ‘I should imagine that a tallow candle is markedly inferior,’ he said. ‘But surely you can’t eat it? What a strange recipe book.’

Much amused, Pippa got to her feet. ‘“Can you eat it?”’ she declaimed. ‘Sounds like “Twenty Questions”.’ She laughed, threw the book onto the easy chair, and fetched a pack of cards from the book-case. ‘Do you know how to play Demon Patience?’ she asked.

By now Jeremy was totally occupied with his newspaper. ‘Um’ was his only response.

Pippa tried again to engage his attention. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t like to play Beggar-my-neighbour?’

‘No,’ Jeremy replied firmly. He replaced the newspaper on the stool, then sat at the desk and addressed an envelope.

‘No, I thought you probably wouldn’t,’ Pippa murmured wistfully. Kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room, she spread out her cards and began to play Demon Patience. ‘I wish we could have a fine day for a change,’ she complained. ‘It’s such a waste being in the country when it’s wet.’

Jeremy looked across at her. ‘Do you like living in the country, Pippa?’ he asked.

‘Rather,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘I like it much better than living in London. This is an absolutely wizard house, with a tennis court and everything. We’ve even got a priest’s hole.’

‘A priest’s hole?’ Jeremy queried, smiling. ‘In this house?’

‘Yes, we have,’ said Pippa.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Jeremy told her. ‘It’s the wrong period.’

‘Well, I call it a priest’s hole,’ she insisted. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’

She went to the right-hand side of the bookshelves, took out a couple of books, and pulled down a small lever in the wall behind the books. A section of wall to the right of the shelves swung open, revealing itself to be a concealed door. Behind it was a good-sized recess, with another concealed door in its back wall.

‘I know it isn’t really a priest’s hole, of course,’ Pippa admitted. ‘But it’s certainly a secret passage-way. Actually, that door goes through into the library.’

‘Oh, does it?’ said Jeremy as he went to investigate. He opened the door at the back of the recess, glanced into the library and then closed it and came back into the room. ‘So it does.’

‘But it’s all rather secret, and you’d never guess it was there unless you knew,’ Pippa said as she lifted the lever to close the panel. ‘I’m using it all the time,’ she continued. ‘It’s the sort of place that would be very convenient for putting a dead body, don’t you think?’

Jeremy smiled. ‘Absolutely made for it,’ he agreed.

Pippa went back to her card game on the floor, as Clarissa came in.

Jeremy looked up. ‘The Amazon is looking for you,’ he informed her.

‘Miss Peake? Oh, what a bore,’ Clarissa exclaimed as she picked up Pippa’s bun from the table and took a bite.

Pippa immediately got to her feet. ‘Hey, that’s mine!’ she protested.

‘Greedy thing,’ Clarissa murmured as she handed over what was left of the bun. Pippa put it back on the table and returned to her game.

‘First she hailed me as though I were a ship,’ Jeremy told Clarissa, ‘and then she ticked me off for manhandling this desk.’

‘She’s a terrible pest,’ Clarissa admitted, leaning over one end of the sofa to peer down at Pippa’s cards. ‘But we’re only renting the house, and she goes with it, so—’ She broke off to say to Pippa, ‘Black ten on the red Jack,’ before continuing, ‘—so we have to keep her on. And in any case she’s really a very good gardener.’

‘I know,’ Jeremy agreed, putting his arm around her. ‘I saw her out of my bedroom window this morning. I heard these sounds of exertion, so I stuck my head out of the window, and there was the Amazon, in the garden, digging something that looked like an enormous grave.’

‘That’s called deep trenching,’ Clarissa explained. ‘I think you plant cabbages in it, or something.’

Jeremy leaned over to study the card game on the floor. ‘Red three on the black four,’ he advised Pippa, who responded with a furious glare.

Emerging from the library with Hugo, Sir Rowland gave Jeremy a meaningful look. He tactfully dropped his arm and moved away from Clarissa.

‘The weather seems to have cleared at last,’ Sir Rowland announced. ‘Too late for golf, though. Only about twenty minutes of daylight left.’ Looking down at Pippa’s card game, he pointed with his foot. ‘Look, that goes on there,’ he told her. Crossing to the French windows, he failed to notice the fierce glare Pippa shot his way. ‘Well,’ he said, glancing out at the garden, ‘I suppose we might as well go across to the club house now, if we’re going to eat there.’

‘I’ll go and get my coat,’ Hugo announced, leaning over Pippa to point out a card as he passed her. Pippa, really furious by now, leaned forward and covered the cards with her body, as Hugo turned back to address Jeremy. ‘What about you, my boy?’ he asked. ‘Coming with us?’

‘Yes,’ Jeremy answered. ‘I’ll just go and get my jacket.’ He and Hugo went out into the hall together, leaving the door open.

‘You’re sure you don’t mind dining at the club house this evening, darling?’ Clarissa asked Sir Rowland.

‘Not a bit,’ he assured her. ‘Very sensible arrangement, since the servants are having the night off.’

The Hailsham-Browns’ middle-aged butler, Elgin, came into the room from the hall and went across to Pippa. ‘Your supper is ready in the schoolroom, Miss Pippa,’ he told her. ‘There’s some milk, and fruit, and your favourite biscuits.’

‘Oh, good!’ Pippa shouted, springing to her feet. ‘I’m ravenous.’

She darted towards the hall door but was stopped by Clarissa, who told her sharply to pick up her cards first and put them away.

‘Oh, bother,’ Pippa exclaimed. She went back to the cards, knelt, and slowly began to shovel them into a heap against one end of the sofa.

Elgin now addressed Clarissa. ‘Excuse me, madam,’ he murmured respectfully.

‘Yes, Elgin, what is it?’ Clarissa asked.

The butler looked uncomfortable. ‘There has been a little—er—unpleasantness, over the vegetables,’ he told her.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Clarissa. ‘You mean with Miss Peake?’

‘Yes, madam,’ the butler continued. ‘My wife finds Miss Peake most difficult, madam. She is continually coming into the kitchen and criticizing and making remarks, and my wife doesn’t like it, she doesn’t like it at all. Wherever we have been, Mrs Elgin and myself have always had very pleasant relations with the garden.’

‘I’m really sorry about that,’ Clarissa replied, suppressing a smile. ‘I’ll—er—I’ll try to do something about it. I’ll speak to Miss Peake.’

‘Thank you, madam,’ said Elgin. He bowed and left the room, closing the hall door behind him.

‘How tiresome they are, servants,’ Clarissa observed to Sir Rowland. ‘And what curious things they say. How can one have pleasant relations with the garden? It sounds improper, in a pagan kind of way.’

‘I think you’re lucky, however, with this couple—the Elgins,’ Sir Rowland advised her. ‘Where did you get them?’

‘Oh, the local Registry office,’ Clarissa replied.

Sir Rowland frowned. ‘I hope not that what’s-its-name one where they always send you crooks,’ he observed.

‘Cooks?’ asked Pippa, looking up from the floor where she was still sorting out cards.

‘No, dear. Crooks,’ Sir Rowland repeated. ‘Do you remember,’ he continued, now addressing Clarissa, ‘that agency with the Italian or Spanish name—de Botello, wasn’t it?—who kept sending you people to interview, most of whom turned out to be illegal aliens? Andy Hulme was virtually cleaned out by a couple he and his wife took on. They used Andy’s horsebox to move out half the house. And they’ve never caught up with them yet.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Clarissa laughed. ‘I do remember. Come on, Pippa, hurry up,’ she ordered the child.

Pippa picked up the cards, and got to her feet. ‘There!’ she exclaimed petulantly as she replaced the cards on the bookshelves. ‘I wish one didn’t always have to do clearing up.’ She went towards the door, but was stopped by Clarissa who, picking up what was left of Pippa’s bun from the table, called to her, ‘Here, take your bun with you,’ and handed it to her.

Pippa started to go again. ‘And your satchel,’ Clarissa continued.

Pippa ran to the easy chair, snatched up her satchel, and turned again towards the hall door.

‘Hat!’ Clarissa shouted.

Pippa put the bun on the table, picked up her hat, and ran to the hall door.

‘Here!’ Clarissa called her back again, picked up the piece of bun, stuffed it in Pippa’s mouth, took the hat, jammed it on the child’s head, and pushed her into the hall. ‘And shut the door, Pippa,’ she called after her.

Pippa finally made her exit, closing the door behind her. Sir Rowland laughed, and Clarissa, joining in, took a cigarette from a box on the table. Outside, the daylight was now beginning to fade, and the room was becoming a little darker.

‘You know, it’s wonderful!’ Sir Rowland exclaimed. ‘Pippa’s a different child, now. You’ve done a remarkably good job there, Clarissa.’

Clarissa sank down on the sofa. ‘I think she really likes me now and trusts me,’ she said. ‘And I quite enjoy being a stepmother.’

Sir Rowland took a lighter from the occasional table by the sofa to light Clarissa’s cigarette. ‘Well,’ he observed, ‘she certainly seems a normal, happy child again.’

Clarissa nodded in agreement. ‘I think living in the country has made all the difference,’ she suggested. ‘And she goes to a very nice school and is making lots of friends there. Yes, I think she’s happy, and, as you say, normal.’

Sir Rowland frowned. ‘It’s a shocking thing,’ he exclaimed, ‘to see a kid get into the state she was in. I’d like to wring Miranda’s neck. What a dreadful mother she was.’

‘Yes,’ Clarissa agreed. ‘Pippa was absolutely terrified of her mother.’

He joined her on the sofa. ‘It was a shocking business,’ he murmured.

Clarissa clenched her fists and made an angry gesture. ‘I feel furious every time I think of Miranda,’ she said. ‘What she made Henry suffer, and what she made that child go through. I still can’t understand how any woman could.’

‘Taking drugs is a nasty business,’ Sir Rowland went on. ‘It alters your whole character.’

They sat for a moment in silence, then Clarissa asked, ‘What do you think started her on drugs in the first place?’

‘I think it was her friend, that swine Oliver Costello,’ Sir Rowland declared. ‘I believe he’s in on the drug racket.’

‘He’s a horrible man,’ Clarissa agreed. ‘Really evil, I always think.’

‘She’s married him now, hasn’t she?’

‘Yes, they married about a month ago.’

Sir Rowland shook his head. ‘Well, there’s no doubt Henry’s well rid of Miranda,’ he said. ‘He’s a nice fellow, Henry.’ He repeated, emphatically, ‘A really nice fellow.’

Clarissa smiled, and murmured gently, ‘Do you think you need to tell me that?’

‘I know he doesn’t say much,’ Sir Rowland went on. ‘He’s what you might call undemonstrative—but he’s sound all the way through.’ He paused, and then added, ‘That young fellow, Jeremy. What do you know about him?’

Clarissa smiled again. ‘Jeremy? He’s very amusing,’ she replied.

‘Ptscha!’ Sir Rowland snorted. ‘That’s all people seem to care about these days.’ He gave Clarissa a serious look, and continued, ‘You won’t—you won’t do anything foolish, will you?’

Clarissa laughed. ‘Don’t fall in love with Jeremy Warrender,’ she answered him. ‘That’s what you mean, isn’t it?’

Sir Rowland still regarded her seriously. ‘Yes,’ he told her, ‘that’s precisely what I mean. He’s obviously very fond of you. Indeed, he seems unable to keep his hands off you. But you have a very happy marriage with Henry, and I wouldn’t want you to do anything to put that in jeopardy.’

Clarissa gave him an affectionate smile. ‘Do you really think I would do anything so foolish?’ she asked, playfully.

‘That would certainly be extremely foolish,’ Sir Rowland advised. He paused before continuing, ‘You know, Clarissa darling, I’ve watched you grow up. You really mean a great deal to me. If ever you’re in trouble of any kind, you would come to your old guardian, wouldn’t you?’

‘Of course, Roly darling,’ Clarissa replied. She kissed him on the cheek. ‘And you needn’t worry about Jeremy. Really, you needn’t. I know he’s very engaging, and attractive and all that. But you know me, I’m only enjoying myself. Just having fun. It’s nothing serious.’

Sir Rowland was about to speak again when Miss Peake suddenly appeared at the French windows.

CHAPTER 4

Miss Peake had by now discarded her boots, and was in her stockinged feet. She was carrying a head of broccoli.

‘I hope you don’t mind my coming in this way, Mrs Hailsham-Brown,’ she boomed, as she strode across to the sofa. ‘I shan’t make the room dirty, I’ve left my boots outside. I’d just like you to look at this broccoli.’ She thrust it belligerently over the back of the sofa and under Clarissa’s nose.

‘It—er—it looks very nice,’ was all Clarissa could think of by way of reply.

Miss Peake pushed the broccoli at Sir Rowland. ‘Take a look,’ she ordered him.

Sir Rowland did as he was told and pronounced his verdict. ‘I can’t see anything wrong with it,’ he declared. But he took the broccoli from her in order to give it a closer investigation.

‘Of course there’s nothing wrong with it,’ Miss Peake barked at him. ‘I took another one just like this into the kitchen yesterday, and that woman in the kitchen—’ She broke off to add, by way of parenthesis, ‘Of course, I don’t want to say anything against your servants, Mrs Hailsham-Brown, though I could say a great deal.’ Returning to her main theme, she continued, ‘But that Mrs Elgin actually had the nerve to tell me that it was such a poor specimen she wasn’t going to cook it. She said something about, “If you can’t do better than that in the kitchen garden, you’d better take up some other job.” I was so angry I could have killed her.’

Clarissa began to speak, but Miss Peake ploughed on regardless. ‘Now you know I never want to make trouble,’ she insisted, ‘but I’m not going into that kitchen to be insulted.’ After a brief pause for breath, she resumed her tirade. ‘In future,’ she announced, ‘I shall dump the vegetables outside the back door, and Mrs Elgin can leave a list there—’

Sir Rowland at this point attempted to hand the broccoli back to her, but Miss Peake ignored him, and continued, ‘She can leave a list there of what is required.’ She nodded her head emphatically.

Neither Clarissa nor Sir Rowland could think of anything to say in reply, and just as the gardener opened her mouth to speak again the telephone rang. ‘I’ll answer it,’ she bellowed. She crossed to the phone and lifted the receiver. ‘Hello—yes,’ she barked into the mouthpiece, wiping the top of the table with a corner of her overall as she spoke. ‘This is Copplestone Court—You want Mrs Brown?—Yes, she’s here.’

Miss Peake held out the receiver, and Clarissa stubbed out her cigarette, went over to the phone, and took the receiver from her.

‘Hello,’ said Clarissa, ‘This is Mrs Hailsham-Brown.—Hello—hello.’ She looked at Miss Peake. ‘How odd,’ she exclaimed. ‘They seem to have rung off.’

As Clarissa replaced the receiver, Miss Peake suddenly darted to the console table and set it back against the wall. ‘Excuse me,’ she boomed, ‘but Mr Sellon always liked this table flat against the wall.’

Clarissa surreptitiously pulled a face at Sir Rowland, but hastened nevertheless to assist Miss Peake with the table. ‘Thank you,’ said the gardener. ‘And,’ she added, ‘you will be careful about marks made with glasses on the furniture, won’t you, Mrs Brown-Hailsham.’ Clarissa looked anxiously at the table as the gardener corrected herself. ‘I’m sorry—I mean Mrs Hailsham-Brown.’ She laughed in a hearty fashion. ‘Oh well, Brown-Hailsham, Hailsham-Brown,’ she continued. ‘It’s really all the same thing, isn’t it?’

‘No, it’s not, Miss Peake,’ Sir Rowland declared, with very distinct enunciation. ‘After all, a horse chestnut is hardly the same thing as a chestnut horse.’

While Miss Peake was laughing jovially at this, Hugo came into the room. ‘Hello, there,’ she greeted him. ‘I’m getting a regular ticking off. Quite sarcastic, they’re being.’ Going across to Hugo, she thumped him on the back, and then turned to the others. ‘Well, good night, all,’ she shouted. ‘I must be toddling back. Give me the broccoli.’

Sir Rowland handed it over. ‘Horse chestnut—chestnut horse,’ she boomed at him. ‘Jolly good—I must remember that.’ With another boisterous laugh she disappeared through the French windows.

Hugo watched her leave, and then turned to Clarissa and Sir Rowland. ‘How on earth does Henry bear that woman?’ he wondered aloud.

‘He does actually find her very hard to take,’ Clarissa replied. She picked up Pippa’s book from the easy chair, put it on the table and collapsed into the chair as Hugo responded, ‘I should think so. She’s so damned arch! All that hearty schoolgirl manner.’

‘A case of arrested development, I’m afraid,’ Sir Rowland added, shaking his head.

Clarissa smiled. ‘I agree she’s maddening,’ she said, ‘but she’s a very good gardener and, as I keep telling everyone, she goes with the house, and since the house is so wonderfully cheap—’

‘Cheap? Is it?’ Hugo interrupted her. ‘You surprise me.’

‘Marvellously cheap,’ Clarissa told him. ‘It was advertised. We came down and saw it a couple of months ago, and took it then and there for six months, furnished.’

‘Whom does it belong to?’ Sir Rowland asked.

‘It used to belong to a Mr Sellon,’ Clarissa replied. ‘But he died. He was an antique dealer in Maidstone.’

‘Ah, yes!’ Hugo exclaimed. ‘That’s right. Sellon and Brown. I once bought a very nice Chippendale mirror from their shop in Maidstone. Sellon lived out here in the country, and used to go into Maidstone every day, but I believe he sometimes brought customers out here to see things that he kept in the house.’

‘Mind you,’ Clarissa told them both, ‘there are one or two disadvantages about this house. Only yesterday, a man in a violent check suit drove up in a sports car and wanted to buy that desk.’ She pointed to the desk. ‘I told him that it wasn’t ours and therefore we couldn’t sell it, but he simply wouldn’t believe me and kept on raising the price. He went up to five hundred pounds in the end.’

‘Five hundred pounds!’ exclaimed Sir Rowland, sounding really startled. He went across to the desk. ‘Good Lord!’ he continued. ‘Why, even at the Antique Dealers’ Fair I wouldn’t have thought it would fetch anything near to that. It’s a pleasant enough object, but surely not especially valuable.’

Hugo joined him at the desk, as Pippa came back into the room. ‘I’m still hungry,’ she complained.

‘You can’t be,’ Clarissa told her firmly.

‘I am,’ Pippa insisted. ‘Milk and chocolate biscuits and a banana aren’t really filling.’ She made for the armchair and flung herself into it.

Sir Rowland and Hugo were still contemplating the desk. ‘It’s certainly a nice desk,’ Sir Rowland observed. ‘Quite genuine, I imagine, but not what I’d call a collector’s piece. Don’t you agree, Hugo?’

‘Yes, but perhaps it’s got a secret drawer with a diamond necklace in it,’ Hugo suggested facetiously.

‘It has got a secret drawer,’ Pippa chimed in.

‘What?’ Clarissa exclaimed.

‘I found a book in the market, all about secret drawers in old furniture,’ Pippa explained. ‘So I tried looking at desks and things all over the house. But this is the only one that’s got a secret drawer.’ She got up from the armchair. ‘Look,’ she invited them. ‘I’ll show you.’

She went over to the desk and opened one of its pigeon-holes. While Clarissa came and leaned over the sofa to watch, Pippa slid her hand into the pigeon-hole. ‘See,’ she said as she did so, ‘you slide this out, and there’s a sort of little catch thing underneath.’

‘Humph!’ Hugo grunted. ‘I don’t call that very secret.’

‘Ah, but that’s not all,’ Pippa went on. ‘You press this thing underneath—and a little drawer flies out.’ Again she demonstrated, and a small drawer shot out of the desk. ‘See?’

Hugo took the drawer and picked a small piece of paper out of it. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘what’s this, I wonder?’ He read aloud. ‘“Sucks to you”.’

‘What!’ Sir Rowland exclaimed, and Pippa went off into a gale of laughter. The others joined in, and Sir Rowland playfully shook Pippa, who pretended to punch him in return as she boasted, ‘I put that there!’

‘You little villain!’ said Sir Rowland, ruffling her hair. ‘You’re getting as bad as Clarissa with your silly tricks.’

‘Actually,’ Pippa told them, ‘there was an envelope with an autograph of Queen Victoria in it. Look, I’ll show you.’ She dashed to the bookshelves, while Clarissa went to the desk, replaced the drawers, and closed the pigeon-hole.