Read Online False Charity by Veronica Heley - Free Book Online Page B

that? Our cheque bounced? No! It’s not possible. There must be some mistake. Give me the details and I’ll get on to the bank straight away to sort it out.’

Five
    Wednesday, lunchtime
    P iers pulled a suitcase on wheels into the hall, closed the front door with his foot, and enveloped Bea in a hug.
    She struggled free. ‘How dare you!’
    She would have hit him, only her hands were full. He laughed, slapped her behind and walked into the drawing room. She followed him, telling herself that the poet was right to warn people about guests bringing gifts, because you never knew what they were really after. The bottle of wine looked a good one. He’d spent money on that, and on the orchid, too.
    Piers’ gaze fell on Maggie. He gave her a slow inspection from her pink topknot to the awkward-looking feet, and identified her place in the household. ‘Hello. I’m Piers. Could you come up with some coffee, do you think?’
    Maggie simpered and scampered off, saying she’d see what she could do.
    Like Max, Piers was tall and strongly built. Unlike Max, Piers hadn’t an ounce of fat on him. He had a mop of dark hair becomingly streaked with grey. His skin was bronzed, his eyes hazel, and his chin looked as if someone had pushed it over to one side. He wore a checked wool shirt over well-cut jeans and the clothes looked right on him, despite the fact that he was now in his early sixties. Time had been kind to him in many ways, perhaps because he’d never burdened himself with family responsibilities.
    â€˜Piers,’ said Bea, dumping the orchid on the mantelpiece out of the sun. ‘Out!’
    â€˜Now, now. Don’t be so hasty. So this is your home.’ He looked all round. ‘Nice place. Suits you. Are you going to keep it?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Bea. ‘Piers, I can’t give you a bed, so—’
    â€˜I got back from Scotland this morning. My tenant’s not due to move out till Monday, so I thought I’d look you up.’
    Maggie banged her way back into the room carrying a tray with a cafetière of fresh coffee and two mugs on it. She brought it to Piers as a puppy brings a toy to its master.
    Piers thanked her with a smile, helped himself, and sank into a chair. ‘Seriously, Bea, if there’s anything I can do you’ve only to say.’
    â€˜Thank you, Piers,’ said Bea, who didn’t for a moment believe he meant it. ‘Everything’s under control.’
    â€˜Except for some old friend of hers who’s in trouble,’ said Maggie, interfering as usual. ‘Max said she wasn’t to worry about it, as it really is a lost cause.’
    â€˜Maggie,’ warned Bea. ‘Zip it!’ And as Maggie opened her mouth to argue, Bea decided she’d had enough. ‘Haven’t you some work to do downstairs? Manning the phones, if you can’t cope with the computer? And if you can’t do that, can you find out if my old cleaner will come back to work for me?’
    Maggie turned puce. ‘I know my mother asked Max to give me a job, but surely you can find something better for me to do than scrubbing floors!’
    Bea tried to be patient. ‘Maggie, I didn’t ask you to scrub floors, though I realize you probably have been doing so, but you really must not—’
    â€˜I’m leaving, right? Today. This afternoon!’ Clumsy footsteps ran away down the hall.
    Silence, while Bea wondered whether to go after the girl, or be thankful that she’d seen the last of her.
    Piers said, ‘Shall we change the subject? Or shall we talk about whatever mess you’ve got yourself into?’
    â€˜I haven’t got myself into a mess. Coral has. Oh, never mind all that. Why are you here, Piers? Surely you’re not trying to pick up where we left off all those years ago? We can’t pretend you never left us.’
    â€˜No, I’ve regretted it many a time, but