Spider's Web Read online

  ‘Oh, come on,’ she ordered him playfully. ‘Of course you’re enjoying yourself. Here you are, our house-guest for the weekend, along with my lovely godfather Roly. And sweet old Hugo’s here for drinks this evening as well. He and Roly are so funny together. You can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself.’

  ‘Of course I’m enjoying myself,’ Jeremy admitted. ‘But you won’t let me say what I really want to say to you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling,’ she replied. ‘You know you can say anything you like to me.’

  ‘Really? You mean that?’ he asked her.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ said Jeremy. He rose from the stool and turned to face her. ‘I love you,’ he declared.

  ‘I’m so glad,’ replied Clarissa, cheerfully.

  ‘That’s entirely the wrong answer,’ Jeremy complained. ‘You ought to say, “I’m so sorry” in a deep, sympathetic voice.’

  ‘But I’m not sorry,’ Clarissa insisted. ‘I’m delighted. I like people to be in love with me.’

  Jeremy sat down beside her again, but turned away from her. Now he seemed deeply upset. Looking at him for a moment, Clarissa asked, ‘Would you do anything in the world for me?’

  Turning to her, Jeremy responded eagerly. ‘You know I would. Anything. Anything in the world,’ he declared.

  ‘Really?’ said Clarissa. ‘Supposing, for instance, that I murdered someone, would you help–no, I must stop.’ She rose and walked away a few paces.

  Jeremy turned to face Clarissa. ‘No, go on,’ he urged her.

  She paused for a moment and then began to speak. ‘You asked me just now if I ever got bored, down here in the country.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I suppose in a way, I do,’ she admitted. ‘Or, rather, I might, if it wasn’t for my private hobby.’

  Jeremy looked puzzled. ‘Private hobby? What is that?’ he asked her.

  Clarissa took a deep breath. ‘You see, Jeremy,’ she said, ‘my life has always been peaceful and happy. Nothing exciting ever happened to me, so I began to play my little game. I call it “supposing”.’

  Jeremy looked perplexed. ‘Supposing?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Clarissa, beginning to pace about the room. ‘For example, I might say to myself, “Supposing I were to come down one morning and find a dead body in the library, what should I do?” Or “Supposing a woman were to be shown in here one day and told me that she and Henry had been secretly married in Constantinople, and that our marriage was bigamous, what should I say to her?” Or “Supposing I’d followed my instincts and become a famous actress.” Or “Supposing I had to choose between betraying my country and seeing Henry shot before my eyes?” Do you see what I mean?’ She smiled suddenly at Jeremy. ‘Or even–’ She settled into the armchair. ‘“Supposing I were to run away with Jeremy, what would happen next?”’

  Jeremy went and knelt beside her. ‘I feel flattered,’ he told her. ‘But have you ever really imagined that particular situation?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Clarissa replied with a smile.

  ‘Well? What did happen?’ He clasped her hand.

  Again she withdrew it. ‘Well, the last time I played, we were on the Riviera at Juan les Pins, and Henry came after us. He had a revolver with him.’

  Jeremy looked startled. ‘My God!’ he exclaimed. ‘Did he shoot me?’

  Clarissa smiled reminiscently. ‘I seem to remember,’ she told Jeremy, ‘that he said–’ She paused, and then, adopting a highly dramatic delivery, continued, ‘“Clarissa, either you come back with me, or I kill myself.”’

  Jeremy rose and moved away. ‘Jolly decent of him,’ he said, sounding unconvinced. ‘I can’t imagine anything more unlike Henry. But, anyway, what did you say to that?’

  Clarissa was still smiling complacently. ‘Actually, I’ve played it both ways,’ she admitted. ‘On one occasion I told Henry that I was terribly sorry. I didn’t really want him to kill himself, but I was very deeply in love with Jeremy, and there was nothing I could do about it. Henry flung himself at my feet, sobbing, but I was adamant. “I am fond of you, Henry,” I told him, “but I can’t live without Jeremy. This is goodbye.” Then I rushed out of the house and into the garden where you were waiting for me. As we ran down the garden path to the front gate, we heard a shot ring out in the house, but we went on running.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ Jeremy gasped. ‘Well, that was certainly telling him, wasn’t it? Poor Henry.’ He thought for a moment, and then continued, ‘But you say you’ve played it both ways. What happened the other time?’

  ‘Oh, Henry was so miserable, and pleaded so pitifully that I didn’t have the heart to leave him. I decided to give you up, and devote my life to making Henry happy.’

  Jeremy now looked absolutely desolate. ‘Well, darling,’ he declared ruefully, ‘you certainly do have fun. But please, please be serious for a moment. I’m very serious when I say I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. You must have realized that. Are you sure there’s no hope for me? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with boring old Henry?’

  Clarissa was spared from answering by the arrival of a thin, tallish child of twelve, wearing school uniform and carrying a satchel. She called out, ‘Hello, Clarissa’ by way of greeting as she came into the room.

  ‘Hullo, Pippa,’ her stepmother replied. ‘You’re late.’

  Pippa put her hat and satchel on an easy chair. ‘Music lesson,’ she explained, laconically.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Clarissa remembered. ‘It’s your piano day, isn’t it? Was it interesting?’

  ‘No. Ghastly. Awful exercises I had to repeat and repeat. Miss Farrow said it was to improve my fingering. She wouldn’t let me play the nice solo piece I’d been practising. Is there any food about? I’m starving.’

  Clarissa got to her feet. ‘Didn’t you get the usual buns to eat in the bus?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Pippa admitted, ‘but that was half an hour ago.’ She gave Clarissa a pleading look that was almost comical. ‘Can’t I have some cake or something to last me till supper?’

  Taking her hand, Clarissa led Pippa to the hall door, laughing. ‘We’ll see what we can find,’ she promised. As they left, Pippa asked excitedly, ‘Is there any of that cake left–the one with the cherries on top?’

  ‘No,’ Clarissa told her. ‘You finished that off yesterday.’

  Jeremy shook his head, smiling, as he heard their voices trailing away down the hall. As soon as they were out of earshot, he moved quickly to the desk and hurriedly opened one or two of the drawers. But suddenly hearing a hearty female voice calling from the garden, ‘Ahoy there!’, he gave a start, and hastily closed the drawers. He turned towards the French windows in time to see a big, jolly-looking woman of about forty, in tweeds and gumboots, opening the French windows. She paused as she saw Jeremy. Standing on the window step, she asked, brusquely, ‘Mrs Hailsham-Brown about?’

  Jeremy moved casually away from the desk, and ambled across to the sofa as he replied, ‘Yes, Miss Peake. She’s just gone to the kitchen with Pippa to get her something to eat. You know what a ravenous appetite Pippa always has.’

  ‘Children shouldn’t eat between meals,’ was the response, delivered in ringing, almost masculine tones.

  ‘Will you come in, Miss Peake?’ Jeremy asked.

  ‘No, I won’t come in because of my boots,’ she explained, with a hearty laugh. ‘I’d bring half the garden with me if I did.’ Again she laughed. ‘I was just going to ask her what veggies she wanted for tomorrow’s lunch.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I–’ Jeremy began, when Miss Peake interrupted him. ‘Tell you what,’ she boomed, ‘I’ll come back.’

  She began to go, but then turned back to Jeremy. ‘Oh, you will be careful of that desk, won’t you, Mr Warrender?’ she said, peremptorily.

  ‘Yes, of course I will,’ replied Jeremy.

  ‘It’s a valuable antique, you see,’ Miss Peake explained. ‘You really shoul
dn’t wrench the drawers out like that.’

  Jeremy looked bemused. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I was only looking for notepaper.’

  ‘Middle pigeon-hole,’ Miss Peake barked, pointing at it as she spoke.

  Jeremy turned to the desk, opened the middle pigeon-hole, and extracted a sheet of writing-paper.

  ‘That’s right,’ Miss Peake continued brusquely. ‘Curious how often people can’t see what’s right in front of their eyes.’ She chortled heartily as she strode away, back to the garden. Jeremy joined in her laughter, but stopped abruptly as soon as she had gone. He was about to return to the desk when Pippa came back munching a bun.

  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 raven
ous.’

  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.’