ILLUMINATION BOOK CHAPTERS (UPDATED LIST OF CHAPTERS HERE) … ROMANTIC COMEDY — QUIRKY ROMP — CO-STARS MOOCHER THE DOG

‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ — Chapter Twenty-Five

An impossible choice

Liz idly contemplated how to break the truth to Simon about Lydia, given that she was supposed to have the hots for him. Interesting how concerned Simon was about Stella for someone not at all interested in his ex-wife, though. As she was beginning to relax, Julie appeared in the doorway and shattered Liz’s thoughts. She looked over Liz and Moocher as though they were not important, which Liz supposed in her scheme of things they weren’t.

Taking in Lydia and Clive, Julie stood, transfixed, as she absorbed the full import of Lydia’s wigless, and now almost makeup-less, head and face.

Liz watched her as she took one faltering step into the room, and then, as though she’d instantly seen, interpreted and worked out her new plan, she shifted to a longer stride and ran across the room to fling herself at Lydia.

As Lydia didn’t hold out her arms, or do anything at all welcoming, Julie sort of bounced off her and had to step back to keep her balance. Her whole posture was one of lost-little-girl, rejected and unloved. Whatever failings she might have had, she was a magnificent actress.

“You are my father, aren’t you?” she said, looking up at him shyly from beneath her eyelashes and twisting her hands together. She looked about fifteen.

“Biologically speaking,” Vincent said. “But not in any other way, thankfully.”

Julie flushed. Her face sharpened and she pursed her lips until her mouth resembled nothing so much as a cat’s backside. She looked about a hundred and fifty.

Liz noted all this with some detachment. She was still trying to work things out.

“Hold on a minute. Hold on, Lydia…” Liz said. “Do you mean that you knew all along who Clive was?”

“Of course, I did. That’s why I moved here. To be near him.”

“And what about having Julie and Simon in as your lodgers. What was that all about?”

“I needed to keep a closer eye on both of them. My daughter because she’s a nasty piece of work.” Julie’s face, incredibly, sharpened and aged even more. She looked the epitome of a nasty piece of work. “And Simon,” Vincent continued, “Because he appears to have no sense of self-preservation and I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Did you know who she was, then?” she asked.

“Of course I did! I’ve been paying for her existence since the day she was born. I have photographs taken of her at six monthly intervals. I must confess to finding it most amusing when you brought her round to show her how to get in without a key and she sat through all that tea and all those biscuits and all those questions, coming out with all those stories…”

Julie’s face took on an interesting mottled effect.

“…without turning a hair,” Lydia said. “She’s quite a trouper, isn’t she?”

Julie looked pleased.

Things were falling into place. Clunk, clank.

“You rang the police and told them Mark Scotter had broken into your house, didn’t you? What was all that about him being your toy boy?”

“Just muddying the waters, Liz,” he said. “That’s all. And I did want him out of the way, especially after I found he was into drugs. He’d obviously come into the game expecting to get all the money when it was found. He’d have happily disposed of Julie and Tony in order to get it. He was not nice.”

Briefly Liz saw the old Lydia peek through, but she went again, leaving Vincent very much in control.

“We also needed a bit of breathing space. I knew things were coming to a head. And I really wanted there to be time for us to have this little chat together.” He beamed at her. “Just us old friends…” He beamed at Clive. “…and family together.”

Liz ignored the blandishment. Clive gripped Vincent’s arm even tighter and grinned so much he was in danger of losing his ears in the corners of his mouth.

“So, are you a dangerous criminal, or not?” Liz wanted to know.

“No, of course he isn’t,” Clive couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “He only did that one job. Not only that, but he gave all the money back.”

“He gave all the money back?” Julie looked as horrified as if a slug had savaged her ankle. “What do you mean? How come no one knows about that?”

Clive grinned and casting a brotherly and delighted look at Vincent he said, “It’s a family thing. We knew.”

“I thought it might make me more acceptable,” Vincent said to his brother. “That was one of the times I nearly made herself known to you, when I was able to give that money back.”

“Oh, silly…” Clive punched Vincent on the arm and Vincent punched him back. They were almost giggling.

“You knew it was me all along living next but one, then?” Clive asked, although they already knew that bit. He was revelling in it. He didn’t look at all Gittish any more.

“Of course I did. That’s why I bought a house here. To be close to you. To keep an eye on you.”

“Oh…”

And there were more punches to the shoulder and more uncontrolled grins.

Julie was impatient with their boyish messing about. “What have you been living on then?” she asked. Practical to the last.

“I made some good investments with it before I gave it back,” Vincent said. “So, I could give it back with interest and have enough to keep me going after that. So you’ve been wasting your time, Julie, looking for the swag, because there isn’t any.” He stopped and frowned. “Oddly enough, I did that job in the first place because you were on the way and I panicked. Didn’t know how I could provide for a wife and a baby. As it turned out your mother just up and left and next I knew, ages later, you’d been adopted and that was that. So, in a sense, that money was yours, but it’s all gone back now.”

Julie snorted, but Vincent ignored it. “What I have now is legitimately mine as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, I can’t imagine why you thought you had a right to anything. You had a perfectly good home, two doting parents and every comfort anyone could want.”

Liz felt obliged to stand up for her a little even though Julie was her idea of a cockroach in human form. “Yes, but she’s lost both her parents recently and now you’re disowning her anyway.”

Vincent looked at Liz, his eyebrows raised. “I can’t imagine why you should stand up for her after what she threatened to do to Moocher.”

“Yes, but she didn’t do it…”

“She was lying. They’re both still alive and well and disappointed in their children, adopted or otherwise.”

“Really?” Liz was surprised, but should have realised Julie would tell any tale if it garnered some sympathy for her cause.

“Yes, really. Not only that, but I think you’ll find that she actually rejoices in the name of Lucinda Dell-Beckwithal rather than Julie Carrington-Smythe.

Criminy. Liz didn’t stand a chance against such incredible fabrications.

“Come on, Lucy,” Tony said. Liz leapt back in shock, not having heard him come in. “Let’s go home. It’s all fallen through. We’re not going to get anything out of this crowd — we might as well accept that.” He put his arm around Julie-Lucinda’s shoulders.

“And I suppose your name will turn out to be Fauntleroy or Ethelred or something,” Liz snapped, peeved that she’d been so taken in.

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “It’s Anthony. What else would it be?”

“Oh, Tony,” Julie sobbed into his chest. “After all I’ve gone through. After all these years of searching for my father, and he doesn’t want me.”

It was amazing. She’d just rolled, faultlessly, into another scenario, as though she needed to constantly live in a story of her own making, although this one was true. Tony looked down at her and gave a small smile, which she couldn’t see, but Liz could. And she realised that he loved Julie. He really loved her. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all. Liz smiled at him and saw him look quizzically back before gently leading Julie from the room. She heard him say, “I’m sorry about that, luv, but you still have a family that’ll make it up to you.”

Vincent laughed. “She’ll always fall on her feet, that one. She’s got such a nerve,” he said and there was a strange note of pride in his voice. “She was trying to threaten me earlier with a cigarette lighter that looked like a hand gun. It was all I could do not to laugh at her. It would have completely destroyed her self-confidence.” He shook his head and smiled in what Liz liked to think was a fatherly fashion.

“Anyway.” Vincent thumped Clive’s shoulder again. “We must go, before anyone comes along who will take more of an interest in our affairs than we want them to. Are you ready?”

Clive looked at his brother for a while before saying, “I’m ready when you are. Have memory stick, will travel.” He patted his pocket. Liz assumed he meant he had his current book in there.

“Oh, there’s just one thing,” Vincent said, drawing a gun from his pocket and pointing it at her. “I don’t like being kicked by people who are supposed to be my friends.”

Liz stared at the gun wondering if, after all the experience she’d had recently, she could tell the difference between a real gun and a cigarette lighter. Um, not with enough certainty. She stood still.

“You can’t blame her,” a new voice to the scene said, and her blood instantly congealed. Hugh had turned up and it would be just typical for him to get hurt instead of her. It seemed to be the way things worked out. “When you consider the deceit you practiced on her, I’m surprised she only kicked you.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see movement that must be Hugh. He moved slowly as he approached Vincent as though creeping up on wildlife.

He might as well have held a huge placard above his head saying, “I’m going to talk and talk and talk and lull this person with a gun into a false sense of security and then I’m going to jump on him and wrest it from his grip and we’ll all live happily ever after.”

Did Vincent only threaten her with the gun because he’d seen Hugh coming in, Liz wondered? He must have seen Hugh before she was aware of his presence. How strange. Liz had difficulty believing he would actually shoot her just because she’d kicked him. But then, he had produced a few surprises recently. What was one more?

Seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone in the room knew what he was up to, Hugh advanced painstakingly on Vincent. “Mind you, she has to thank you for calling me every time you thought she might need me. That was very kind of you and keeping the conspiracy with Melanie quiet too, so she wouldn’t know about it. Of course, as we all know it didn’t work, unfortunately, but I was still glad to be able to keep an eye on her.”

“There’s no reason why it can’t work now,” Vincent said. “Now you’ve got shot of that woman with the inappropriate name.”

“No, she got shot of me, as you so charmingly put it. Because I made a fool of her by being around here, lusting after my ex the whole time. The picture in the paper was merely the straw that finished it off.”

“But now you and she can get back together, can’t you?” Vincent was trying very hard to be patient. Liz could hear it in his voice. She decided to keep quiet. Maybe Vincent could succeed where she’d failed in convincing Hugh she loved him.

“No. I know she has mentioned it, but I also know it’s only because she feels sorry for me after the Charity debacle. I know very well how she feels. I have been hearing it for the last two years even if I didn’t really take it in until too late.”

“Okay, stop right there, Hugh. You’re getting too close and I refuse to be wrestled to the ground by someone as pig-headed and blind as you are. You will force me to do something very unpleasant. Liz loves you. Why don’t you buy my brother’s house from him? He and I are about to go away and probably won’t be back. Then you’d both have your own houses, right next door to each other. She won’t feel hemmed in. She’d have her attic bolt-hole to go to when she needed to. You’d both have your own space. It’s ideal.”

Liz peered at Hugh’s face from under her lashes. It had his stubborn, not-listening look plastered across it. Vincent wasn’t going to succeed. It was hopeless. Moocher got up and ambled across to her. He always knew when her spirits had taken a downward plunge.

Before he reached her Vincent thundered, “Stop! Right there!”

Moocher was so surprised he did stop just as he’d reached where Hugh stood. Moocher turned his head sideways and looked enquiringly at Vincent, tail slowly waving side to side. Both her dog and her man were out of her reach, which made Liz feel uneasy. “Sit,” Vincent commanded.

Looking even more surprised Moocher did sit. Liz didn’t know who was most taken aback at that point. Keeping his eyes on Moocher as if willing him to stay, Vincent said, “Liz. My shin really hurts where you kicked me. I am going to take my revenge. So. It’s up to you. Which one shall I shoot? Hugh or Moocher?”

It was Clive who reacted aloud. He stared at his brother and gasped, “You can’t!”

“Watch me. You should never let people get away with stuff. They’ll think they can take advantage whenever they want. In fact get your gun out and keep it trained on Liz. I don’t want her doing anything stupid.”

Clive was aghast but still did as he was asked by his newly found brother.

Liz’s brain seized up. What did he mean by giving her such a choice? This couldn’t be real.

“Come on, Liz. Haven’t got all day. Which one shall I shoot?”

He didn’t look like he was messing around. Anything but. And she believed him. Her self-indulgent descent into violence was going to cost someone she loved their life. She turned and met brown eyes steadily gazing at her, the love for her plain, and an understanding she would never have expected to see reached out to her to let her know it was all right. Her vision blurred and her throat hurt so much that getting sound out through it was like vomiting up razor blades.

“No!” she said. “No, I’m not going to choose. You can’t do this. I don’t believe you will do this.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I know who you’d choose.” And he pointed his gun at Hugh, squinted theatrically and Liz could have sworn, tightened his finger on the trigger.

“Moocher…” she shrieked. “Moocher!” Oh, God. She’d given the death sentence on her dog. She kept her eyes on Moocher’s. She wasn’t going to chicken out of it. She would keep contact with him until his life force flickered and went out.

A heavy, waiting silence fell into the room. Clive shifted his feet, Vincent sighed heavily and aimed his gun at her lovely loving dog.

Hugh and Liz both jumped at the same time, colliding in the middle with a colossal crack, Moocher hidden behind them. Liz felt as though she must have been shot, but it was Hugh who, white faced and thin-lipped with pain, clutched his shoulder.

Another silence, this one patently full of disbelief, fell over the assembled company.

“You chose me,” was all Hugh managed to say, his eyes staring in shock.

“Yes, and then because you couldn’t face the thought of us getting back together, you chose to kill yourself by jumping in front of Moocher. Thank you very much!”

He seemed struck dumb, whilst she battled with white-hot fury and toe-cringing hurt. She looked for blood on him but could see none. She could see none on her. And Moocher was fine, puzzled but absolutely fine.

Vincent and Clive clutched each other, looking terrified.

“Did you shoot,” one of them said.

“No, I thought it was you,” the other replied.

“I never would have shot any of them.”

“No, nor me.”

Weird.

Liz looked back at Hugh, who was clearly in pain. He smiled weakly at her. “You do love me,” he whispered. “You chose me.”

“Yeah, and then you tried to kill yourself by jumping in the way of the shot,” she snapped.

“There was no shot!” Clive or Vincent asserted.

“I heard it, and anyway, look at him.” She nodded at Hugh’s colourless face.

“I think the shot-type noise might have been my collarbone breaking,” he said.

Liz got to her feet, her hand on Moocher’s head. “Serves you right,” she squeezed out between her gritted teeth, but she couldn’t hold his gaze.

“Oh, for heavens sake,” Vincent said. “Get it sorted, you two. It’s time we were off. I’ve done the best I can for you. If you can’t see it, then, tough! You can get two people together as often as you like. As I did. Repeatedly. All those times when I rang Hugh to tell him Liz could do with him around, without telling her that’s what I was doing. But it’s impossible to make other people see sense. At some point they have to do it for themselves. It’s time we weren’t here.” And he and Clive moved towards the door.

“You’re just going to go. Just like that?” Liz suddenly felt the loss and, approaching Vincent, she hugged him quickly. He was so surprised he didn’t have time to hug her back. “I’m sorry I kicked you so hard,” she said. “Will you keep in touch?”

“Yes, why not? We can trust you, I know. Also, would you like to take charge of my house? Rent it out, take care of it. Just deal with it. Take a hefty commission.”

“And mine,” Clive said and handed her his keys. “I don’t think we’ll be back for a long time. You could rent mine out to my fan club — that might make more money than ordinary tenants. But it’s up to you. Do what you like. You could move in while you’re doing up your own house. The commission from looking after both our houses could be enough to enable you to do what you want. I’m not sure accountancy suits you. Or you could just sell it to that lunkhead over there and get back together, but in separate houses.”

“That reminds me, Clive,” Vincent said. He put his arm around his brother’s shoulder as they moved to leave the room. “Your third Bertie Elfen Lee novel where he goes undercover as an auditor — your informant about the safe cracking wasn’t quite right about using dynamite in that way. I don’t suppose most people will have noticed though. In future, I could, maybe, if you wanted, check out your books for such details…” His voice trailed off.

“Oh, would you, Vincent? That would be great!”

And they were gone.

Chapter Twenty-Four of ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ is here!

Chapter Twenty-Six of ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ will be here next week!

All ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ chapters to read are here.

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‘White Lies and Stakeouts’ follows on from ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’, although, it too, can stand alone.

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