“Remember Steve?”
“Is he your husband, dear?”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever properly met.”
“He’s gonna take a load of stuff to the dump for you, stop you getting vermin.”
“I don’t need that. I’ve got my cats.”
“You should get shot of them too.”
“I should not. And I like my things.”
“All right, Frieda, calm down. Course we won’t take any stuff you use. We’ll just clear out the rubbish, yeah?”
“I don’t have any rubbish.”
“Why don’t you take Freida into the kitchen, Steve, yeah? Make us all a nice cup of tea, and I’ll just have a quick look around. Check the window locks and stuff.”
Movement, then fast steps coming up the stairs. With a pinch of panic I leaped up, dived into the box room and stood behind the door. I could hear Linda moving about in Frieda’s bedroom. She’d be in the box room next, I knew it. I had moments to act. I put my fingers under the wide bit of board and pulled, then I backed into the space and used the handles to pull the board to. I turned the two small wooden swivels. Then I lay quietly in the dark, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom.
Moments later I could hear someone outside, the sound of boxes being moved. Behind the false panel, I stilled my breathing.
“You up there, Linda?”
“Yeah. Hang on.”
More footsteps, heavier.
The man’s voice, “What you up to? I’m stuck downstairs with the old bird.”
Linda’s voice, “I’m looking for something.”
“What you doing?”
“Checking stuff. Anyone could break in. She hasn’t got any security to speak of.”
“So get her into a home.”
“D’you have any idea how much those places cost?”
“It’s not our money, though, is it?”
“It bloody well is. Think about it. I’m Ted’s niece, so technically that makes me her only living relative, right? By marriage, anyhow, and that’s gotta count. No kids, and she definitely hasn’t got anyone else, meaning it’s all coming my way sooner or later. Stick her in a home and she could go on for years. We’d have to sell this place to fund it. There won’t be a penny left. At least here she might do us all a favor and fall down the stairs. Help me shift this box.”
“Linda, wake up: this stuff is trash. Did you not see that TV downstairs? It’s got to be at least twenty years old. Older, probably. You’d have to pay someone to take it away.”
“She’s got a load of decent jewelry somewhere, I know she has. Ted spoiled her rotten. And I do mean seriously expensive stuff. The real McCoy.”
“It won’t be in here, then, will it? It’ll be in her bedroom.”
“I’ve already checked. Nothing but junk.”
Then Frieda’s voice, close by: “Have you finished checking the windows, dear? There’s tea downstairs. And biscuits, special ones, homemade.”
“Yeah, everything’s fine up here. I was just wondering, d’you want me to look after anything for you, Frieda?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“What about your jewelry?”
“My jewelry?”
“Yeah. You’ve got a few little bits tucked away somewhere, haven’t you? D’you want to dig them out? I can take them to my place for you if you like, keep them safe.”
“Why should I want that? Silly I know, an old lady like me, but I am very fond of my beads. I like to wear them, look.”
“Not them glass ones, Frieda, other stuff. Emerald earrings, diamond rings, stuff like that.”
“There’s nothing I can think of. I’m sure I’d remember if I had anything nice like that.”
“Have a think, then.”
“I am thinking, dear. I think you must be getting confused.”
***
