Getting Involved

Section Fifty-Six

Margaret jumped up and dashed out of the room, straight into the kitchen. She leant against the refrigerator, breathing more heavily than was normal and looking as if she had just escaped something frightening.

"Did you see a spider?" asked Mrs. Scott, who was busily distributing boiled eggs across the table. She barely glanced up from her task, as if she was not at all surprised by the interruption.

"No, worse." It would take a while before she had calmed down again.

"Me," said Iain, appearing in the doorway. Margaret's flight amused him, especially because it was herself she had wanted to get away from. Sometimes he wanted that too, but he knew it was impossible. Perhaps Margaret had not yet realised that he was not the problem.

"Yes, that's worse," his mother agreed. "But I'd have thought that you two were in the sitting room for quite a while. Were you hiding behind the couch, Iain, that her shock was so delayed?" Although she was curious, she was well familiar with all the things that could happen to shock one half of a couple. The other half appeared more amused than shocked, so she should probably try to curb her imagination.

"No, I said something nice to her." Maybe he was not so nice after all, if he could be amused. He noted that Margaret looked rather appreciative of that comment, but he did not know whether she liked his sense of humour or the fact that he had said something nice.

"Then you ought to thank him, Margaret," Mrs. Scott said sternly. When she saw that was the last reply Margaret had expected, she relented. "But at least you didn't give him a verbal thrashing. You ran. That's a good step in the right direction."

"Thank you," Margaret said to either or to both, or to whoever would like to hear it. She had never heard running away being described as a step in the right direction. What was nice? Perhaps she should retract her statement that he was nicer than his father. They had the same wicked streak, really. Iain was merely toying with her. She should not make it too easy for him, but first she needed some time to recover. "But tell me about the case. Did she really do it?"

"Yes, of course." Iain sat down. "That was a delicious cake in my fridge, by the way."

"Naughty boy." His mother hit him with a tea towel. "You knew you'd be getting your share of reprimands, didn't you?" She would never make Margaret feel as though she was the only one who deserved some criticism.

He grinned at her. "Mum, I know you." He turned back to Margaret. "But yes, Poppy really did it. Did you ever doubt that?"

"No, but you still had to find the evidence." She was recovering slowly. Talking about the case was a very good escape. It was neutral ground, yet it still offered them an excellent opportunity to play with the other's mind.

"Or get a confession." Iain smiled. She would not expect that. He would agree that getting a confession had still looked pretty improbable on Sunday evening, especially since he had not filled her in on the chat with Sebastian when he had incriminated Poppy.

"You didn't!" Margaret exclaimed, leaning forward with her hands on the table. "How did you get her to speak up?"

He shrugged modestly. "I speculated a lot and came too close to the truth." It had made her nervous. She had slipped once, a few times more and finally she had realised it was futile to keep on denying everything, because she was not going to get away with it.

She sat down. "You. Speculated. You. Actually. Said. Things. You. Did. Not. Know. Were. Facts." That visibly impressed her.

"Yes." He had known she would react to that. Sometimes she was really predictable.

"I'm so proud of you." She beamed at him and then wondered if she was perhaps too enthusiastic.

Mrs. Scott glanced at the pair and shook her head. They were silly if they did not realise what other people were going to think of their overindulging in private jokes. She took the milk out of the refrigerator and set it on the table, perhaps to remind them she was still there. She had not known that Iain had objections to speculations, but perhaps Margaret's speculations had been too wild or provocative. He would have spoken up against them in that case, just like she would have exaggerated them if he had betrayed a dislike of speculations. It was all rather logical now that they were giving her clues.

"But go on," Margaret urged. She wanted to know everything. "Did you find the will? It was in her car, wasn't it? What did Anna say?"

He stared at her. "How did you know it was in her car? I'd almost think you put it there." She could not know. She was innocent.

"Because that's where you wouldn't check because you'd forget -- and she could drive away to a secluded spot and read it. Did you find it or did she tell you where it was?" She would like for him to have found it all by himself. That was always more satisfying than being told by someone else.

He did not stop staring at her. "You're..." It was uncanny that she too had thought Poppy would want to read the will again. "I looked, because you told me where everybody's car keys were and I wondered what your purpose was." Perhaps he had been overestimating Margaret there, but luckily it had been successful.

"I hope you didn't think I actually knew what I was talking about." Margaret raised her eyebrows questioningly. She had not known the will was there. She had merely made a relatively random remark, a sort of hunch, because cars might be overlooked if they were parked some distance from the house.

"I think in some sense you do know what you're talking about." He did not know how she did that.

"But only because I'm clever!" she protested. That might be a stupid comment, but it was important that she get something straight. She had had no real knowledge of the hiding place of the will and she was far from being psychic.

"Of course."

Margaret was silent for a few moments as she was trying to figure out what else she still wanted to know. "Did the will say what it was supposed to say?" In other words, had Sebastian spoken the truth and had they guessed the rest correctly?

"Yes. Most of Nigel's fortune was left to Anna. Sebastian got a little more than in the other will, but Poppy got significantly less. That gave her a very obvious motive and she could not deny that she had seen it. It was in her car and her prints were on it. That was more than enough." He still did not understand that stupidity, but it had been very fortunate for him.

"People that stupid deserve to be locked up. What did Anna say? Did you let Clarissa tell her?" They had all observed some caution around Anna. Had it really been necessary?

"Yes, but she proved to be tougher than Clarissa thought. According to Randall she didn't even faint when Poppy was arrested and that was supposed to be one of her friends there. The confrontation with the truth wasn't very upsetting, not as upsetting as Clarissa always thought it would be, anyway." They had been surprised at how well Anna had handled it. She had accepted the information calmly without being shocked. He still did not know what to think of the girl. She was hard to read.

Margaret gave a little shrug and decided to do like Anna. "Well, she accepts what she's told. If she's told Poppy is a bad girl, she will just forget what she's been told before. How did she react to her inheritance, but more importantly, to who her father was? I cannot imagine she said she had thought so all along."

Margaret had left her cell phone on top of the refrigerator the day before and suddenly it began to ring. For a brief moment this drew everybody's attention to it, but then they let her answer it more privately as they focused on other things.

"I've tried your house number repeatedly, but you don't seem to be there," the person at the other end complained with rather suggestive undertones.

"No, sorry," Margaret replied, feeling instantly annoyed as well as suspicious. "I'm not at home." She cringed when the next question was when she would be home. She did not know when that would be and it was not up to her.

If she said she had no idea, her two listeners here in the kitchen might think she expected to be invited to stay for longer and that was not the case. If asked, she would stay, naturally, but not uninvited. It had to be their decision.

If she said she would be home that evening, she knew exactly what would happen. This acquaintance of hers was a bit selfish and usually did not care that she might have plans of her own. Margaret should be available at all times and she could be counted on to be home during the school holidays. She was often asked to look after the woman's children for a day -- or more. It seemed to become more every time. Before, she had not minded so much because it was good for Ailsa to have other children around.

She would rather sink in the esteem of this particular acquaintance than in that of the Scotts, so her mind was made up in an instant. "I don't want to look after your children for you." There. That solved the problem of answering the question of when she would be home. "I bet you haven't even tried anything else." That was a hunch, but the silence on the other side of the line was so remarkable that she was probably right.

Dependable and predictable Margaret would look after the children. You did not even have to ask if she wanted to. All you had to do was ask if she was home and if she was not, you could sound faintly disapproving because she had the nerve to be elsewhere.

Well, not this week. She had better things to do. And really, would anyone be shocked if Margaret Maxwell was honest and blunt? Some people had just been lucky to have known the friendly version, for as long as it lasted.

One of the things today was proving was that her manners tended to desert her when uncertainty struck. However, she did not enjoy this gained insight into her own character at this moment. She would have preferred to come by it another time.

"I'm...sorry?" her acquaintance asked with a note of incredulity. "What am I to do with them now? I counted on you." She made it sound as if it was Margaret's fault that she now had a serious problem.

Margaret almost gasped at the presumption. "Whoever made you believe you could count on me? Every single school holiday? I'd like some time alone with my own ... family this time." She applauded her own diplomacy. Family could mean anything. It could be extended to include almost anyone she liked.

"Sorry to have bothered you," said her acquaintance rather stiffly.

Section Fifty-Seven

"Someone wanted to dump her children on me, but I don't have time for that at the moment. So where were we?" Margaret asked, not wanting to elaborate on her phone call. In retrospect she supposed it had not been very graceful of her. "Yes, I know I sounded horrible. Tell me what happened when Clarissa told Anna."

Mrs. Scott thought she had been rather blunt, but perhaps only that was effective. Without knowing what had been said on the other side she should not judge too harshly -- and there was the extenuating circumstance of Iain making Margaret nervous, naturally. Someone wanted her to be home, but she was not. She had been a bit hedgy after that, with good reason if she had been asked where she was.

Iain thought back to the days before, not curious about the phone call. "I wasn't there when Clarissa told Anna, but I suppose it happened very carefully." He could not imagine Clarissa divulging the news bluntly and carelessly, given how secretive she had always been.

"Of course. You don't want your child to turn against you. You don't want to accomplish what you've tried so hard to avoid, but there's always the danger that you will." Margaret spoke cynically. In some ways she understood what had motivated Clarissa to keep silent. "It's one of the ironies of life. You want to keep your girl by not telling her anything and you'll lose her because of it."

Although their situations had similarities, they were not at all equal, he thought. Margaret would never have withheld such knowledge from a daughter until after her twentieth birthday. Clarissa might have waited even longer if she had not been forced to reveal it by Nigel's death. "But that won't happen to you." He had never known that Margaret feared something like this, but how could he have known?

Margaret did not know about that. She could not say how things would turn out in the future. She could only hope and fear. "But I'm not exactly doing my best to find out who her father is. If I'm all she knows, she can't go away -- that's the idea -- but, oh irony, she always can, so why don't I even want to think about finding it out?"

"Maybe it doesn't matter. She seems very happy with you." If people were happy, they did not feel the need to look elsewhere, he would think. He realised he could never place himself in such a child's position and all he could was try to reassure Margaret, when she too would know it was nothing more than an attempt.

"She's only eleven. Hell is yet to come. And what do I say about my sister? It's very difficult. Should I be honest, should I be diplomatic? After all, we are talking about a girl who gave her own child away. I might hurt Ailsa terribly if I was too honest about my sister. How biased am I anyway? Yet if I don't say anything at all she will wonder what happened. My parents -- very nice of them -- told her when she was four that she had not come out of my tummy." She had been speaking calmly, albeit with some sharpness that was in part still inspired by the phone call, until the last sentence. There her voice quavered and tears sprang into her eyes. She did not want him to see them, so she laid her head on her arms and hid her face until she had regained control of her emotions. She should not have let herself go like that. It had very little to do with the topic.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Scott said emphatically. "That wouldn't have been an easy thing to explain to a clever four year-old." She rested her hand on Margaret's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. Someone had to if Iain did not. He might have, if she had not been there. Now he just sat and looked as if he could not possibly do what he felt like doing.

"No." Margaret's voice sounded muffled, but her bitterness was still audible.

"That was unnecessarily cruel of them. They should have known better, as adults. You're not that thoughtless." Margaret did not have to worry about doing the same. But this explained why Ailsa had so quickly adopted new grandparents. Her own very likely had issues that stood in the way of a good relationship with their daughter and grandchild.

"But that doesn't mean I can't mess up." Her fear of messing up was pathetic and, she thought, not very endearing. She had to get over it.

"You've not messed up during the hardest part. Doesn't this give you any confidence? You've managed to tell her in such a way that she's completely accepted it. You're her mother. She believes what you tell her." Mrs. Scott had seen enough evidence of that.

"I'm sorry," Margaret said eventually when she had got enough of a grip on herself. "We were talking about Anna and Clarissa. Please continue. I won't interrupt you anymore." She raised her face and it was red. Iain was very silent, she noticed. What was he thinking? She forced herself to stare back, even if it was unsettling.

He was thinking he knew very little and there was not much wisdom he could offer. "What can I say, Margaret?" he asked gently. "I understand your problem. I have a similar one."

"You have a child?" she gasped. It could not be, but she did not know what else to say in that instant.

He smiled. "No, but I wonder what to say. If I said something nice to you, you might run again. If I didn't, my mother would probably say, but at least think, something about it." He glanced up at his mother, who nodded. "And if I didn't say anything you'd wonder what I was thinking." But he had given the answer already, he thought. If he said anything, it would be something nice.

Margaret's head fell back on her arms and her face was hidden again. He was right. She had run when she had something nice. He had just said something nice again and she was hiding her face, yet if he had not spoken at all she would have been worried. Life was horrible.

"I really hate this. Iain, will you just marry me so we can skip all this?" It would be such a relief to put all these intermediate steps behind them. Even if they might have to go through them later, the added certainty about the future would make it all more comfortable. She kept her head down, in case he was looking unwilling or disgusted. In that case she would have misinterpreted him and she would feel an enormous fool.

"I'll marry you," he replied quietly. That was all he could say with his mother present.

"I told you so," Mrs. Scott could not help but say to Margaret, although she was very surprised by this turn of events. She would never advocate this course of action for less reserved people, people who had overlooked some necessary things in their rashness. These two, on the other hand, would require some rashness to get past the necessary things. Marriage was an ambitious plan, but never for a moment did she doubt that details and requirements had been thought over long ago by Iain and seemingly also by Margaret. Once the missing variable, the other person, appeared it could be settled quickly enough, it seemed.

Margaret lifted her head and smiled, looking relieved. "It's really impossible for me to do all this without knowing that it's going to be justified." Now, she hoped, she would have less trouble with niceness and associated matters.

Ailsa had indeed gone with Mr Scott and the dogs. She loved walking them and it did not matter to her at all that she had never before met this man who was going to walk them now. It had quickly been established that he was married to her new grandmother and that made it quite all right to go out with him, especially after he had called her granddaughter.

"How do you know!" she had said, impressed.

"Are there any other girls in the house?" he had asked.

"My mother, but she's not a girl anymore. Maybe she used to be."

"I think so. She wasn't born old."

Ailsa had giggled as she imagined Margaret in baby clothes. They had walked out along another route than she had walked with Mrs. Scott and she had amused herself by throwing sticks into the water so the dogs could swim after them.

Iain was in the middle of explaining to Margaret how Anna had dealt with the news when they returned with the dogs. He did not stop his explanation because the drying and cleaning of the dogs in the background was very familiar to him. "She was a bit surprised at the sum, but that's all."

Margaret was more distracted by the entrance of the dogs, but especially by Ailsa. "Oh. I mean, that's ... strange. Maybe it was all still too unreal to her? I hope she wasn't in a sort of shock because she found out her mother had been keeping things from her?" She clenched her fists, so she would not again feel tempted to think of her personal circumstances and to bother them with that.

"If she was, she's really good at keeping that hidden." The thought had not occurred to him, so there had been nothing in Anna's behaviour that was strange, he supposed. "I didn't get the impression that there was any change in her feelings towards her mother."

"Good. Towards her father then? He knew and he never wanted to acknowledge her. I'd feel it." She would not have loved him for it.

"So would I."

Margaret tried very hard to keep a professional attitude and a calm appearance, but it was useless. Perhaps she should not look at Iain too much and wonder if he would be a nice father.

"You look funny, Maggie," Ailsa commented, looking at her searchingly.

"Why do I look funny?"

"You just do." She slid onto a chair and inspected at what was on offer for breakfast. "Yummy! Hot rolls!"

Margaret shrugged and returned her attention to Iain. "He was always a bit selfish and immature," she said, trying not to ask why he was smiling. The harder she tried not to ask, the funnier she looked, she supposed. Whatever she did, Iain only smiled, as if he knew. He was trying to avoid something too, then. It always reassured her to discover that.

She could tell by the way his eyes occasionally flickered towards his parents. He might be wondering if his mother was going to reveal to his father that she had just proposed. That could be embarrassing. When it had happened, it had not been as embarrassing as she would have thought. It had been a relief.

"You knew Nigel. It never became clear why he acknowledged one girl and not the other," Iain continued.

"He probably thought he was doing enough for Anna as it was. With another mother..." If Clarissa had asked for more, she might have got more. "He was probably happy to do no more than was asked of him, the way many people are."

Section Fifty-Eight

"So, tell me about the case," said Mr Scott, sitting down at the table as well. "I don't actually know much about it, except that you seem to have made some friends and that you didn't pass enough information on to your sister." Iain had not passed much on to his parents either. Since he was unable to speak directly about Margaret in her presence, his father wanted to try the alternative route and glean information about her that way.

Iain shrugged. It seemed easier to him if his father just read the report. "It was fairly simple. A rich man got murdered and the first person we questioned -- his daughter -- was already very suspicious. She tried to incriminate Margaret every other sentence in ridiculous ways --"

"Which would give anyone a positive bias towards Margaret," Mr Scott nodded understandingly. "And when you finally saw her --" He was interrupted, but he had meant to make a teasing remark about the effect of her appearance, which Iain had seen coming.

Therefore Iain ignored it. "-- but when we spoke to Margaret, she didn't have a motive. It had to be someone in the house, but most of the guests would have been better off had he stayed alive because most expected to get money from him at some point."

"There are other considerations," said Scott senior warningly. People were not only murdered because of money.

Yes, he knew that and he would never forget to look if there were any other reasons. "But as far as preliminary conclusions go..."

"Yes, all right. Go on."

"We did find out about the other considerations," Margaret took over. "But they still had to do with money."

Mr Scott looked a bit surprised that she had taken over, but more so because she sounded as if she had been investigating as well. He thought she was supposed to be one of the suspects.

Margaret continued as if she was unaware of his surprise. "He was murdered because he was going to cut his official daughter out of his will in favour of his biological daughter -- and she found out."

"How silly," said Mrs. Scott, who did not understand why this had necessitated a murder. "Was there going to be an immediate effect? What if he hadn't died?" Something would only have changed if the man had died. If the girl had needed the money immediately she would have killed him long before. "Suppose I had a will and cut you out, you wouldn't notice until I was dead."

They could only guess what would have happened if Nigel had not died. "Well," said Iain. "He paid everything for her and the discovery that she was another man's child could change all that. He might stop giving her money. She had no clue how to support herself. She didn't want to take the risk."

Margaret snorted in contempt. "The choice between prison and poverty seems easy to me. But I wonder, what about the news that she wasn't Nigel's daughter? How was she going to deal with that if it leaked out? Was she planning to get rid of everyone who knew?" Somehow she could not see Poppy liking it if the news spread. Who was she, if she was not Nigel Hargreaves' daughter? She might be a nobody.

"I don't think she had thought that far ahead yet." At any rate, she had not confessed to having plans in that direction. It would not have been wise to do so either, so he really could not say.

Margaret had yet another instance of stupidity to be surprised about. "I would have."

Iain gave her an indulgent look. "Yes, but you wouldn't kill anyone in the first place. She probably thought only her mother knew, since Nigel had confronted her and I don't suppose a cuckolded husband would really like anyone else to find out. And her mother, being on the other side of the globe living her own life, did not care."

"But Poppy might not have known that Clarissa knew. Didn't she wonder who had told Nigel?" Margaret would have thought about these things, especially if she was planning to take action. "One does not act without having thought of the consequences -- especially if one is considering murder. Or am I simply strange?"

He did not think she was. "No, she didn't seem to have wondered. She forgot about that in her distress. She only mentioned that Nigel had told her mother. I think the news was too shocking for her to devote any thoughts to where it came from. She first had to solve the problem of losing her source of money."

Margaret grimaced and thought that she at least would have been able to think in more than one direction at once. "Did you ask her why she wanted to kill me?"

He had asked Poppy that. Of course. "She said she only wanted to scare you because she didn't trust you. She thought that if she scared you, you'd stop snooping. Somehow I don't think the plan would have succeeded, as hardly anything could have prevented you from snooping around, not even my admonitions," he said dryly.

"How was she going to scare me by coming into my room?" Margaret could not imagine anything that would scare her without revealing the identity of her attacker. "I'd see who she was. Even if she was wearing a white sheet, I'd be able to pull that away." She wondered about his admonitions. Somehow she had missed the fact that he had meant them seriously.

"She was going to spray something into your eyes. A biting substance, I presume. We've not actually tried it out on anyone to see what harm it did."

"What a cow," said Margaret and blinked." She's sick. I'm glad she really had something in mind, though. I don't want you to think I entered your room for ... for..." For other purposes than escaping the intruder, basically.

"Receiving some attention as a female?" Iain repeated what she had once said. "But women who do that are usually not adamant about not wanting to share with men they're not married to." He would never have misinterpreted her intentions.

"Can we go over that again, please?" asked Mr Scott, who had shared a look with his wife. "The murderer tried to enter your room and you fled into Iain's? How?" That would not have been through the door, in that case.

"Over the balcony." How else? "It was an easy choice between possibly breaking an ankle by falling off and being murdered." Margaret shrugged.

"And then what?" Mrs. Scott was also interested. It sounded as if Margaret had not wanted to share, but had the offer been made? A gentleman would surely have offered a bed to a lady in distress, especially if said gentleman had the suspicion that the lady might not be safe in her own room.

Iain poured himself some tea and did not look at anyone. Margaret could handle that question. He was afraid he would either sound as if Margaret had too many principles, or as if he had too few himself. Neither was true.

"Luckily DS Randall is female. I slept in her room," Margaret said coolly, putting up an impassive front against anyone who might think her too old-fashioned or strict. "Fleeing one's room is one thing. It's bad enough to do that. Spending the remainder of the night in a man's room is even worse, especially if there are people around who'd think I fled on purpose."

"Such as Randall?" Iain had never doubted that Randall had interrogated Margaret as soon as they had reached her room. She had been able give him some information in the morning, after all.

"She called me strange -- for not taking advantage of the situation, I think."

Iain stirred his tea with a spoon to keep himself occupied, even though there was no sugar or milk in it. "I hear Randall has a low opinion of me," he remarked. "Do you think I would let someone take advantage of me?" He would not allow that to happen any more than she did, even if he did not have any serious objections to sharing a room.

"I said the situation, not you." She did not want to think about his question, let alone answer it.

"I was the situation."

"I suppose you want to hear a negative, but I really wouldn't have a clue and I really want to stop thinking about that situation until I'm married. That makes life much simpler." Margaret frowned and supposed she would be told she looked funny again. If she had a mirror she might even agree. She would have to change the subject and quickly, before someone asked her if she was smelling something disgusting. "I never got my money for tutoring Poppy that week, by the way." That, at least, was as random a comment as she could find.

"Anna wouldn't mind paying you," Iain thought.

"I'd hate to sound mercenary, but I have to pay the school fees for the next year." This return to practical matters was a relief.

"I'll just stay home if you can't pay, Mummy," Ailsa said cheerfully. "I really won't mind." She always liked her holidays and she would not object if they went on forever, no matter how much she would enjoy going back to school again towards the end of them.

Margaret remembered that she had proposed to Iain and that the consequences of that would very likely bring about a change in their circumstances. Presumably they would want to live together, she thought, feeling very distant from the other Margaret who had arranged that.

Maybe it meant that Ailsa would not have to go to boarding school. She glanced out of the kitchen window at the roof of Iain's house that was visible. It might just be that the other Margaret had just arranged for them to live there. As the other Margaret was not available for comments at the moment, she could not ask.

There would be plenty of people who could look after Ailsa here -- if they wanted to -- and she might not have any problems finding babysitters while she worked. The girl herself would not mind at all. That was fortunate, because the other Margaret had taken this step without thinking of Ailsa consciously. Margaret wondered if she could have made this decision without considering Ailsa at all. Although her brain was seriously compartmentalised at the moment and access to other sections was limited, she did not think so. She would not even have liked Iain if he had not liked Ailsa.

She shook her head to make thinking easier and her eyes flickered again to the roof and back to Ailsa.

"I could live here and see you every night, Mummy," said Ailsa, as if she had been able to read Margaret's mind, and as if there was no difference between being a guest and living somewhere permanently.

"Here?" Or out the back gate? Under that roof she could see from here? She did not know what Ailsa was able to guess, or if she was simply projecting her own wishes onto the situation. If she liked Iain and his parents it would be convenient if Margaret did too, but it might not even have to be necessary. It was hard to tell. Sometimes they understood far too much and at other times they had very simple ideas.

"I like it here."

Margaret looked across the table. "Iain, I have your problem. I don't deserve to get off this easily." She had not asked Ailsa if she minded living with Iain and she had not asked Iain if he minded living with Ailsa. Maybe Iain would want to come and live with them, not the other way around. Or he did not want to live with anybody. But by the sound of it, Ailsa would not mind Iain at all.

He understood her perfectly, but instead of saying so he started putting jam on one of the hot rolls. "I think you do." He had been wondering why she had mentioned the school fees. He would have thought that marrying him meant that Ailsa would live at home, because he never got the impression that sending her to boarding school was a real choice. It had been necessary because she had to work. Ailsa certainly did not seem overly attached to it.

Margaret figured she had better get herself a roll too before they were all eaten, since everyone had started except her. She did not have to think while she was eating. Nobody would expect her to think either.

"Are you coming when we go pony riding?" Ailsa asked Iain.

"I'm too big for ponies," he answered. "But I could watch. I took four weeks off." He had plenty of time to do unusual things. He did not look at his parents to see what they thought about those four weeks. They might have thought four days was a lot.

"So we can go tomorrow too?" she asked and then her face fell. "Oh. I forgot Mummy wants to go home." They would only be able to go riding today. After that she would be at home where there were no ponies.

Margaret studiously spread jam on her roll. She did not want to go home, but she could not invite herself over for longer and she had said they would go home after the pony riding, so everyone would be expecting that. She had no idea what to reply to this now. This was the most awful breakfast she had ever experienced.

"You can stay with me while Mummy goes home," Iain suggested. He had no idea what Margaret wanted to do at home, but he supposed it was related to keeping the house in order or perhaps doing the laundry. He assumed she was not working during the school holidays. At least, not yet.

"Oh, can I?" Ailsa cried. She looked delighted.

"Of course." His mother would forgive him for stealing her guest. And he was actually expecting Margaret to say something about not going home.

"Okay, but we must ask Maggie if I can."

"Maggie?" he turned his eyes towards her, looking pleading enough for Ailsa to giggle.

She had no choice. "You can." She wondered why she was not included in the invitation, but she supposed that was her own fault.

"And will you come too, Mummy? You can't stay home all alone. Iain won't mind." Ailsa was sure he would not. He would have an extra bed too.

Bless Ailsa. She made two people very relieved and two others very amused. Margaret glanced briefly at Mr and Mrs. Scott, but the smirks she saw there were not very comforting. She preferred to look at her food and to see if it yielded any answer to question of where she was going to stay and if another situation was going to occur.

Section Fifty-Nine

Mrs. Scott did not have guests in order to have them eat in silence. She also did not have guests with the purpose to make them uncomfortable in front of others. She was perceptive enough to realise some topics should not be broached yet, notably marriage, living arrangements, Ailsa's school and who was going to sleep where. It was none of her business, even though she was curious.

She would help Stuart and ask more about the case, since he was interested and he was not receiving many answers. The previous conversation had stranded in a situation that was apparently very significant to the couple, regardless of the fact that seemingly nothing had occurred. "But how did you find out about the girls' fathers?"

"Female intuition," said Iain, sounding doubtful, but that was more to tease Margaret.

She was quick to reply. "Admit it, it has its worth."

"Of course, especially when the idea originated in two intuitions. Two hunches are as good as a fact in the female mind."

Margaret held her mouth open for a few seconds in a soundless gasp. "You sceptic. We were right."

"You were lucky," he corrected.

"Well, it was supported by the DNA tests, wasn't it?" That was not luck.

"Oh, I forgot. Another female with a hunch had made the victim consent to a DNA test," Iain continued. "So we eventually got the proof that Anna was Nigel's daughter and Poppy wasn't, which Margaret of course already knew and never told us."

Margaret stuck her nose in the air. "Because I didn't have any evidence to back it up. I actually like having that as much as you do. And you're not against hunches. You're just saying that to pester me."

"Do not pester Mummy," said Ailsa. "She likes it and she will beat you."

"I do not like it," Margaret said, but she did not enjoy Ailsa's scrutinising gaze. It probably meant that she looked as if she did like it. She barely listened as Mr Scott questioned his son about some more details about the case, engrossed as she was in wondering if she enjoyed being pestered. Teased, yes, but that was something else. Although if Iain did the pestering she would probably enjoy it.

At the end of the meal she had still not figured it out.

Iain got up. "I have to do my laundry. When are you going pony riding?" he asked Ailsa.

"At twelve."

"See you then." He gave the pensive Margaret an undecided glance and then went out the back door. He knew he was a coward, but he could not talk to her here, not with his parents and Ailsa present. And she did not look eager for conversation at the moment.

He was gone before she realised it. "What?" she said out loud, staring at the door. "Where's he going?" He should talk to her.

"He's going to do his laundry," Ailsa told her. "He just said so."

"But..." She wanted to ask what she had to do then, but she realised they had not made any plans for after breakfast. He might come back after doing his laundry. In real life these things had to be done. Still, it was a little disappointing to see him leave after he had told her he would find her. He had kept his word and he had found her, but apart from breakfast nothing had happened. And something about marriage that she could not really believe in anymore. Had it really taken place?

Mrs. Scott cleared the table without speaking. Her husband went to study the photocopied report Iain had brought for him to read, Ailsa went to feed the rabbits and only Margaret was left with her. It was interesting. She would have expected that Iain and Margaret wanted to talk, but he had gone to do his laundry instead and she had not gone with him. It would have been the perfect opportunity to be alone.

Margaret automatically began to help her, but she said nothing.

Mrs. Scott waited to see if the assistance was definitive. It was. "Thank you for your help, Margaret, but I think the most strategic moment to leave would be right now, because I will not go with you, but others might not have that tact if they saw you go." She referred to Ailsa and she expected that the girl might be in the way of a private chat. Iain was not going to come back soon. He would be doing his laundry and then realise parts of his house might need a bit of tidying and cleaning before they were visited by a woman other than his mother.

"Leave? Go home?" That was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.

"No, out the back gate."

"I don't want to. He said he'd find me. I'm not going to chase him into his house. To do what? He might misinterpret my intentions. You might misinterpret my intentions. I mean..." She wrung her hands. She could not, if he had left, go after him.

"My dear. I couldn't care less. I'd only hope you enjoyed it." It was spoken matter-of-factly, which disguised the fact that she would much rather have snickered.

"No!" Margaret almost shrieked and she felt her cheeks grow very hot. "Enjoy what?"

"It's been quite a few years since I went through that stage," Mrs. Scott mused, looking at a spot somewhere up the wall. "I don't really recall ... but you are younger. You must know." She patted Margaret's arm and turned to fill the sink -- and to hide her grin. She was cruel, but it felt so good to be cruel now and then. "The previous time..."

"Yes," Margaret said sarcastically. "I get caught up in murder cases all the time!"

Mrs. Scott was not offended. In fact, she had not expected Margaret to remain calm and sweet. "I'm not talking about murder cases. I'm talking about men. How old are you?" She was certainly younger than she appeared to be on television, but not young enough to be clueless.

"Old." The last thing Margaret wanted to hear was that at her age she ought to know what to do with men who fled from her. She was usually quite happy to let them go. How did one reveal that Margaret Maxwell did not actually have a clue how to pursue them? It seemed so easy -- go into his house and find the washing machine -- but it was not.

Mrs. Scott gave her a quizzical look. "You do not look old."

"That's what they tell me."

"I think you were rather young when you had Ailsa. I've looked up your age on the internet." She had done that after Margaret's appearance had surprised her. For some reason she had always assumed her to be several years older. The research made her out to be much younger than expected and she would certainly have been very young when she had begun to take care of Ailsa. Perhaps that was the problem.

"For some people it's just easier to assume that I look this way because I've had plastic surgery," Margaret said, thinking of Poppy. It was nice that someone had taken the trouble to do proper research for once. "I cannot be this age if I behave like I do."

There was that too, apart from the fact that most people on television were older than they looked. "But what a pleasant surprise to find that you are." There was still plenty of time to provide her with some more granddaughters, but she could not say that. It might send Margaret running.

"A pleasant surprise for whom?"

"You, among others. Isn't it nice to find out that you are in fact still young and attractive, despite having such a big daughter?" She hoped she did not sound too patronising.

"It's not nice at all." It was unnerving. And how attractive was she, if men fled from her?

Mrs. Scott sighed. Her attempts at encouraging the girl were not yet working. "Now," she said as she put the plates in the water and started to scrub them. "Just bear with me. We have this woman, not very old, younger than she thinks, and she's been taking care of a little girl for years, which didn't make her a very attractive target for men."

"I don't think I needed outside help to be an unattractive target," Margaret commented, drying the plates. "They didn't like what I said."

While that might be so, it was not important. There were plenty of men who would not be able to handle Margaret, but she would not want them. Mrs. Scott had never wanted them either, so she understood this perfectly. "So they were unsuitable men. Now, this woman --"

Margaret did not need to hear about what she had or had not done. "I know what I'm like. Could you just skip to we have this man?" She was more interested in how he was faring. His mother would know what he expected.

Mrs. Scott laughed. "Oh no, my dear! You're awfully fond of skipping difficult passages, but there are some things in life you cannot skip. There is no way on earth that I will contribute to taking you from this kitchen straight to the altar. You shall suffer."

"Marriage is suffering?"

"No, but it will be if you skip everything."

Margaret considered her options as she continued to dry the dishes. They were almost finished, so she supposed she ought to come up with a course of action soon and she was no closer to knowing what to do. All this time she had been hoping Iain would return, but he had not come back. It did nothing for her self-confidence. "Why isn't he coming back?" she asked finally, admitting her defeat. "He was only going to do the laundry." Getting everything together and stuffing it into the machine took less than two minutes.

"It would have been easier, wouldn't it? I don't think it's done to punish you, though," said Mrs. Scott. "On the contrary. I have three sons who've had varying approaches to girls and varying numbers of admirers -- all my sons are good-looking, you know, but not all took advantage of it -- but I've observed that they quite often started noticing that their personal space was messy and dirty if they were thinking of bringing a girl home, no matter how many times I had pointed this mess out to them without effect."

Margaret stared out of the window as she analysed those words. "So is it clean, not so clean or very dirty over there?"

"As for your implied question, I don't know. As for your direct question, clean enough to please the mother who peeks in now and then to see if he keeps it clean, but he might make an effort for you."

Section Sixty

Iain had indeed done his laundry, then noticed that his bathroom could do with a thorough cleaning. It was advisable to give it some attention before inviting a woman in here. He did not think it would take him long, but cleaning one thing led to another. Working was a good opportunity to think, however.

Margaret wanted to marry him. He had no objections to that, on the contrary, but she had not really changed after she had asked him. She had still been nervous. Or rather, not visibly nervous like other people would be, but quiet, evasive and a bit touchy.

What was he to do?

He had not known, so he had opted for some time off and here he was, cleaning. She would know where to find him if she wanted to. He might be a Detective Chief Inspector, which sounded very impressive, but he could not even figure out if she was going to come or not.

His father was quicker. He entered through the back door, dropping the photocopied report of the case on the kitchen table. "Good work." Having retired less than a year ago, he was still very interested in the work.

"Thanks." Iain had looked up briefly from where he was scrubbing.

"If you're in the cleaning mood, I wonder if you could help me later on. I've been waiting till you had time. I want to saw off some branches out front."

"Yes." He never had any time to help and he felt some guilt about that. The branches had been in the way for over a year. He had been asked for help before and he had not yet been able to give it.

"It needn't be today," Mr Scott said surprisingly. It suddenly struck him that the cleaning might be intended for the woman who was currently doing the dishes with his wife and that perhaps Iain had plans with her today.

"No." He had four weeks off. Still, why did his father ask if there was no urgency? He looked up to see what the problem was and if there was another reason for his presence.

"You and the ... er..." Mr Scott gestured.

"The ... er...?"

He had meant to say girl, but although they were both girls to him, one of them would not be a girl to Iain, even though she had probably not yet reached the venerable age of thirty-five. "The eldest of the two. Iain, what are you doing with a TV woman?" He did not know whether they suited his son because of their completely different lifestyles and interests.

"I never watch TV."

Precisely. Iain had no interest in that world. "You know what she does for a living."

"Yes, I heard."

"I read she makes a million a year." And she had been doing that programme for a few years now, so she ought to have built up some wealth. That did not really tally with the statements in the report he had just read, which was really what had caught his attention.

Iain frowned. A million? "I don't think she does. We looked at her bank records. She doesn't have any more in the bank than I do." No abnormal sums had been paid into it either. He would definitely have noticed, because he had studied her account with special attention.

Mr Scott wondered how he could be so naïve. "Even the worst shows pay that kind of money nowadays, Iain. I doubt that she'd keep it in her household account, so she probably has an account you didn't find. My point was, with all that money she might have a different lifestyle from yours, especially if the money is no longer in the bank -- thus already spent?"

Iain had not seen any evidence of that. The money bugged him, however. "I don't understand. We checked her account. She's been getting small sums irregularly, just like she told me. She was there to work and she was to get a month's salary for that, but I got the impression she didn't do anything else for the rest of the month. She said that not everybody on TV was rich." Why would she say that or even take on teaching jobs if it was not true?

"I don't know then," said Mr Scott. He hated to be the bearer of bad tidings. "I'm just telling you what I read. You sort it out with her." He hoped the woman had not lied. Iain would not like that, even if it was only about having more money than she had first said. There was probably a reason for it, however. The other way around would have been much worse.

Iain was left to wonder if it was true. After a while he had no other choice but to go back to his parents' house to find Margaret. She had not had a motive for murder because she had needed Nigel's money, but if she turned out not to have needed the money at all, what else had she not been truthful about? He had believed her. He wanted there to be some explanation for this. She had not murdered Nigel. Why lie?

He found her in the kitchen. "Can we have a word?" he asked, ignoring his mother.

Margaret frowned because he looked so serious. "Of course." She gave Mrs. Scott a quick glance, glad that Iain had come for her and she would not have to chase him into his house. She wondered what he wanted.

He took her into the garden and decided not to beat about the bush. "My father says you make a million a year." He looked at her to see how she reacted, hoping she would deny it.

She bit her lip, understanding him immediately. "And I've pretended that I was poor? Well, not poor, but not without financial concerns? About school fees? I wouldn't have those if I made a million a year." Furthermore, she would never have needed to tutor Poppy. Why would anyone put herself through that voluntarily?

Iain nodded. "Yes. And the money is not in your account. Was my father wrong?"

She looked at the ground and whispered. He sounded hopeful, but she could not really reassure him and say his father was wrong. "I have a Swiss account. I used to keep all my money in my regular account, but I kept getting phoned by the bank because they wanted me to invest it. They do that if you have a lot. I didn't want to. I wanted to keep it, so I transferred it to Switzerland and I pay my professional expenses like clothes out of it and I pay a lot into Ailsa's account. Should I die ... you know."

That still did not explain why she had implied she was not rich, but he let her finish.

"I live off my other jobs. I want to keep the rest for when I'm tired of working or for when people are tired of offering me jobs." She was still looking at the ground. "I realise it sounds like a lie now, but I did need Nigel's money. I keep the two separate. It's very tempting to use it to buy a bigger house, a bigger car ... but what would I have in five years if I did all that? That show won't go on forever and my image is such that they're not going to give me something completely different. All the old men who like me and offer me work now might be dead by then. If I spent all that money now I might have to do something else and I'm not doing it because I love it. I merely don't have any objections to it at the moment and I have no professional skills.

"Iain, it's not even a million in cash. Some of it is the use of a flat, dinners, free tickets, the use of a car..." Someone had rounded the figure off upwards. She had never done that herself, but it was probably closer to a million than to what she had implied to Iain.

He believed her, but felt they were very exposed on the lawn. "Come. Let's have some tea." He had to sit her down, because she looked as if she was about to cry. A crying Margaret was more than he could take. He might want to hug her and she might not want that. It certainly should not happen in full view of his mother.

"Iain, I'm sorry. I know I said to you that I didn't have a large bank account." She made a little choking sound, for which she disliked herself severely. "It's a lame excuse, but I thought I'd be nicer if I didn't seem to have one -- and I'm not really using the money. It didn't feel like a lie." If it had felt like a lie she would never have been able to keep it up. She was honest. It was idiotic how a man could make her behave.

He ushered her into his house. "Sit down." She did so and rested her head on her arms, sniffling as if she was trying not to cry. He kneaded her shoulder muscles comfortingly, wondering if she was going to tell him to stop. She did not and he could feel her relax -- slowly. "It gave me a little scare to hear about that million, that's all. It's my fault for not realising it or questioning your words. I was just happy to hear you weren't rich. I stopped thinking there. I didn't want to doubt your words, so I didn't." He still did not want to doubt her.

"Isn't it ironic how stupid we become in the presence of the opposite sex?" Margaret asked with a self-deprecating groan. She had said all kinds of strange things too, about illegitimate children among others. "Something within me had already decided that I liked you, even if I didn't know it yet myself." The feeling had been strong enough for her to obscure the truth. If only he had not looked so distrustful of celebrities she would never have needed to prove she was normal, she supposed.

He smiled. That was a very good description of what had been the matter with him as well. "Same here. I'll make some tea." He withdrew his hands.

That was not good. "Iain. I'd prefer the massage over tea. Actually." She turned her head and looked at him, her eyes still shiny from the tears. She never would have guessed she could say that and so imperatively too. It was a little scary.

"Margaret. But you don't like being touched," he said carefully, not wanting to do anything she did not like. Especially not now they had progressed a little.

She had known he was going to bring that up. That was why she had issued the order. And he was good, being very gentle and never straying with his hands. "Please don't think I lied about everything. I really never liked it much, but I liked this. Please?" That was a more begging voice. If ordering did not work, then begging might.

He resumed his position behind her, grinning. "I didn't mean that. I just don't want to do anything you don't like. Are you sure you don't want any tea?" Perhaps she did not need it anymore. She had calmed down now, but in case she needed to calm down a little more he did not mind continuing the massage.

She considered that. "If you come back to me after putting the kettle on, I wouldn't mind tea." She was becoming very bold now.

He was very quick about that and then returned to his massage until the water was boiling. He liked it if she liked it, so he stopped with some regret. "There. Does that feel better?" he asked close to her ear.

She stretched her arms and back to disguise her real reaction to his question. She would have liked to say he could do this any time he liked, but she did not yet dare to because it might have consequences, although those consequences were probably just as agreeable. "Yes, thank you. It was delicious. You're very good. Will you forgive me?"

There was nothing to forgive. "Oh, who was the stupid one here? Randall was absolutely right. I told her not to be blinded by people she knew from the tabloids and then the only person who was blinded was me." He poured the tea and carried it back to the table. "Laugh at it, Margaret." There was no other sensible solution.

"Yes, Inspector," she answered dutifully.

"If I say Margaret, you may say Iain."

"Love the favour. Were you cleaning your kitchen or something?" She had perceived a bucket in the corner. It would be a nice change of topic to ask about that.

"I was trying to."

"Your mother was right then."

Before he could ask what else his mother had said, they were disturbed. It was Ailsa, who did not even knock on the back door before she came in.

"Your mother was right about that too," Margaret muttered with a gesture at her daughter. She was happy that the advent had been delayed. It might have happened ten minutes ago. She would have been very uncomfortable had it happened then and she was glad her time with Iain had been private, as innocent as it had been.

Ailsa was jumping around in excitement because the pony riding was less than an hour and a half away. She did not know how to pass the time all by herself. "Oh Mummy!" she called out and then hugged Margaret. "Can I have a rabbit?"

"Yes, you can have a rabbit," said Iain, when Margaret was still wondering if Ailsa was going to stay at her boarding school or not, which might make a difference where rabbits were concerned.

"Don't give in to her every whim," Margaret chided. She had done her best not to spoil the girl. He should not undo her efforts now. He did not have to give her things for her to like him. Children saw through that with amazing insight.

"Yay!" Ailsa cheered and settled herself on Margaret's lap. She looked at Iain and tried her luck. "What else can I have?"

"Nothing." He had better listen to Margaret. Because of his nephews he had enough experience and knowledge to realise that Ailsa could start to take advantage of him, but he had spoken without thinking.

"Pity," said the girl with a wise nod. "But I know. Mummy says I'd be spoilt if she gave me too much, so she doesn't."

"Mummy is right, but if she asked me for a rabbit, I'd give her two." Ailsa was merely a little Margaret clone. The original could get away with much more if she so desired.

"Two?" Margaret wondered what he thought she would do with two rabbits.

"A boy and a girl. Duh! So they can have babies," Ailsa explained.

For Iain there could not have been a more logical explanation, although it was not entirely what he had meant. He liked the twist, however. "Of course. That's what boy rabbits and girl rabbits do, isn't it?"

"When they grow up," Ailsa qualified his remark. "Says Mummy."

"Mummy says nothing of the sort," Margaret commented. She did not want Iain to think that she told Ailsa all these things, as if she had some preoccupation with that subject. She certainly could not recall sitting down to talk about it. Perhaps she had dropped something in passing once about having to be grown up.

"Not now. Another time."

"I've never expressed any ideas on the procreational anythings of any rodent," Margaret said for Iain's benefit. She did not poison the minds of eleven-year olds. They did not need to have any knowledge of this yet, unless they asked for it out of scientific interest. "Or indeed of any living creature."

"You have them, but you haven't expressed them," he nodded, misinterpreting her on purpose. "You have got to have some about stupid humans. Even I do."

Margaret stared at him. She had not expected such a remark from him. It was the sort of thing she would say. He should be treating everyone objectively, without prejudice and preconceived irrational notions, because that was what he had appeared to be doing so far.

"Is that hard to imagine?" he asked, amused by her stare. "I'm no longer on duty. If I thought everyone was perfect, what would I be doing in my job?"

"I actually find it shocking to hear you say that. I thought you didn't judge or accept things without hard facts." She was still staring at him. Of course he was off duty now and that would make a difference. It was only natural that he should have opinions. Why was she being stupid?

Iain snorted. Of course he judged. Everyone did. He did not know where she had got the impression that he did not. "That I'm not as quick or eager to voice them doesn't mean I don't have opinions that are sometimes quite similar to yours. A person can judge case by case."

"Do you judge me?"

He was not going to be tricked here. "Yes, I judge that you are different from others." To be specific he thought she was different from the ones he considered stupid.

"But not that I'm stupid or that I shouldn't procreate?" Or perhaps many other things that were not perfect about her.

"If you have to ask me that I might have to revise my opinion." Obviously he did not think she was brainless and he did not think he would deliver a negative verdict on the other matter either.

"Why is that?" She supposed he was now really close to revising his opinion.

"What's that word?" asked Ailsa, who had been trying to figure it out. It was most certainly something exciting.

"Oh, that word ... I meant it's all right for Margaret to have babies," said Iain. "Because she's not stupid." She was going to love him for this, he suspected. He was not allowed to put ideas in Ailsa's head, only she was, in spite of the fact that they might be the same sort of ideas. He was only teasing her a bit.

"Iain!" Margaret did not know whether she was more appalled at him explaining it to Ailsa, or at what he was explaining. It was none of Ailsa's business whether she wanted more babies and with whom and who might be having a say in this, which it really all came down to, in case Iain was not aware of it.

"Don't you want her to have a large vocabulary?" he asked, as he was fairly sure she advocated large vocabularies.

Large vocabularies were not things she minded. "Do you want me to have a large...think of all the ponies they'd want to ride!" She did not know what she was thinking. He might not even have intended her to think about this, but the damage was done. It occurred to her that his smirk implied that he was very aware of the damage he was inflicting.

"I wouldn't mind at all," he said with a shrug.

The End

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