Chapter 23
Joyce
So that was a day I wasn’t expecting when I was having my muesli this morning. First the nun business, and now this.
If you think I have muesli every morning, you’ve got the wrong idea, but this morning I did, and as things turned out, I was glad of the energy. It has gone ten p.m. now, and I have only just put my things down. At least I had a snooze on the train home.
I was having my hair cut this morning with Anthony.
We were nearly done and were just having a lovely gossip when who should arrive but Elizabeth.
With a tote bag and a flask, both of which were out of character.
She told me a taxi was on its way, and to get ready for a day out.
I have learned to be spontaneous since I moved to Coopers Chase, so I didn’t bat an eyelid.
I asked her where we were going, so I would have an idea about the weather, etc.
, and she said London, which surprised me, but it explained the flask.
I know exactly how London can be, so I popped home and put on a nice coat. And thank goodness I did!
We still use the Robertsbridge taxis, even though they once took Ron’s granddaughter to the wrong station, but to their credit they have got better.
The driver, Hamed, was Somalian, and Somalia sounds very beautiful.
Surprise, surprise, Elizabeth has been there, and they had a right old chat.
Hamed has six children and the eldest is a GP in Chislehurst, if you know it?
I once went to a Christmas market there, so was at least able to chip in.
All this time Elizabeth was waiting for me to ask where we were going, but I didn’t crack.
She likes to be in charge and, don’t get me wrong, I like her to be in charge too, but it doesn’t hurt to make your presence felt every now and again.
I think she rubs off on me, and in a good way.
I have never really thought that I was a pushover, but the more time I spend with Elizabeth, the more I think I probably am.
Maybe if I’d had Elizabeth’s spirit then I would have been to Somalia too? That’s just an example of what I mean.
We got on the train at Robertsbridge (the 9:51 stopper), and she’d cracked by Tunbridge Wells and let me in on it. We were off to see Joanna.
Joanna! My little girl! You can imagine my questions. Elizabeth had me back exactly where she wanted me.
So why were we going to see Joanna? Well, this is what it seems had transpired.
Elizabeth explained, in that way she has that makes everything sound so reasonable, that we knew as much as the police did about many things in this case, which was a good thing for everyone.
However, it would also be good if there were areas where we knew more than the police, in case we needed to “trade” at any point.
This might be useful, according to Elizabeth, because Donna is, unfortunately, a bit too canny to tell us everything. After all, who are we?
The big gap, the way Elizabeth would have it, was the financial records of Ian Ventham’s companies. Might there be a useful connection between Ventham and Tony Curran there? A reason for their row? A motive for murder? It was important we found out.
To this end, Elizabeth had, of course, acquired detailed financial records of Ian Ventham’s companies. By hook or, more likely, by crook.
It was all in a big blue file, hence the tote bag, which she put on the empty seat beside her. I haven’t mentioned it yet, but we were traveling first class. I kept hoping someone would ask to see my ticket, but no one did.
Elizabeth had taken a look through all the financial bumf and couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
She needed someone to take a look and tell her what was what.
Was there anything out of the ordinary? Anything we might poke our noses into when we had a spare moment?
Hidden in the records would be leads, of that Elizabeth was sure. But hidden where?
I asked if the same person who had found her the records in the first place might be the man for the job.
Elizabeth had said that unfortunately this person had owed her one favor, not two.
She also said she was surprised I had said “man” for the job, given my politics.
She was right, it was not best practice, but I told her that I bet it was a man all the same, and she confirmed that it was.
Somewhere around Orpington I in turn cracked and asked, Why Joanna?
Well, Elizabeth gave her reasons. We needed someone up to speed on modern business accounting and how to value companies, which Joanna apparently is.
Was Ventham in trouble? Did he owe money?
Are there any further property developments on the horizon?
Are they funded? We needed someone we could trust absolutely, and Elizabeth was spot-on about Joanna here.
Joanna is many things, but she won’t let you down over a secret.
Finally, we needed someone we could have quick access to, and who owed us a favor.
I asked Elizabeth what favor Joanna owed us, and she said the universal guilt of a child who doesn’t see their mum often enough. She had Joanna pegged there too.
It boiled down, Elizabeth said, to needing someone “forensic, loyal, and nearby.”
Anyway, she had emailed Joanna and not taken no for an answer. She told Joanna not to discuss it with me, so it would be a nice surprise, and here we were.
This all looks convincing written down, but then Elizabeth always has the knack of sounding convincing. I didn’t buy it for a moment, though. I don’t doubt she could have found many better people for the job. You want the truth? I think Elizabeth just wanted to meet Joanna.
Which, by the way, was fine by me. It was a chance to see Joanna, and a chance to show her off to Elizabeth. And all without the embarrassment of trying to arrange it myself. One way or another, if I arrange it, I always get something wrong and Joanna gets exasperated.
Also, today I wouldn’t be talking to Joanna about her job, or her new boyfriend, or the new house (in Putney—I haven’t been, but she’s sent me pictures, and there is talk of Christmas).
I would be talking about a murder. Try acting like a cool teenager when someone has been murdered. Good luck, darling, as they say.
We arrived at Charing Cross fourteen minutes late due to “the slow running of this service,” which Elizabeth had a good mutter about.
I didn’t need the loo on the train, which was a blessing.
Last time I had been in London was Jersey Boys with the gang, which was a while ago now.
We used to go three or four times a year if we could.
There were four of us. We would do a matinee and be back on the train before rush hour.
In Marks they do a gin and tonic in a can, if you’ve ever had it?
We would drink them on the train home and giggle ourselves silly.
The gang has all gone now. Two cancers and a stroke.
We hadn’t known that Jersey Boys would be our last trip.
You always know when it’s your first time, don’t you?
But you rarely know when it’s your final time. Anyway, I wish I had kept the program.
We took a black cab and off we set to Mayfair. When we were on Curzon Street, Elizabeth pointed out an office where she used to work. It had been closed down in the 1980s for efficiencies.
I have been to Joanna’s offices before, when they first moved in, but they have redecorated since then. There is a Ping-Pong table and you can help yourself to drinks. There is also a lift where you just say the number instead of pressing a button. Not for me, but very swish all the same.
I know I sometimes go on about her, but really, it was so lovely to see Joanna.
She even gave me a proper hug, because we were in company.
Elizabeth then excused herself to use the bathroom (I had gone at Charing Cross, in case you were thinking I was superhuman).
The second she was out of earshot, Joanna beamed.
“Mum! A murder?” she said. Or words to that effect. She looked like the child I remembered from long ago.
“He was bludgeoned, Jojo. Of all things,” I replied.
These were my exact words, and I think the fact she didn’t immediately screw up her face and tell me not to call her Jojo speaks volumes.
(On a side note, I could feel and see that she was a bit too thin, so I don’t think this new man is for her.
I almost took advantage and said something, but I thought, Don’t push your luck, Joyce.)
We were in a boardroom, and the table was made from the wing of an airplane. I knew not to make a thing of it in front of Joanna, but it was really something. I sat there as if I saw airplane tables every day of the week.
Elizabeth had emailed all the files over, and Joanna had given them all to Cornelius, who works for her. Cornelius is American, by the way, in case you were wondering about his name.
He asked Elizabeth where she had got all the documents, and she said Companies House, and he said these are not the sort of documents you can get at Companies House, and she said that, well, she wouldn’t know about that sort of thing, she was just a seventy-six-year-old woman.
I’ve gone on too long. The long and short was that Ventham’s companies were in very good shape. He knew what he was doing. Though Cornelius had found out two very interesting things, which we’ll be telling the police about when they come and visit. They’ve added it all to Elizabeth’s big blue file.
Joanna was funny and bright and engaging, and all the things I had worried that she’d lost. There they all were. Perhaps she had just lost them with me.
I have talked to Elizabeth about Joanna before, about how I feel we’re not as close as we should be, as other mothers and daughters seem to be.
Elizabeth has a way of making you want to tell the truth.
She knew I had been a bit sad. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but I wonder if the whole trip hadn’t been for my benefit.
Really, an awful lot of people could have told us what Cornelius told us. So, perhaps. I don’t know.
As we left, Joanna said she would have to come down next weekend for a proper gossip.
I told her I would like that very much, and that we could do a trip into Fairhaven, which she said she would love.
I asked if the new man might come down with her, and she gave a little laugh and said no. That’s my girl.
We could have got another black cab straight back to the station, but Elizabeth wanted to have a stroll, and so we did.
I don’t know if you know Mayfair—there are no shops you would actually buy anything in, but it was very pleasant.
We stopped for coffee in a Costa. It was in a beautiful building, which Elizabeth said used to be a pub where she and a lot of her colleagues would drink.
We stayed there for a while, and talked about what we’d learned.
If today was anything to go by, this whole murder investigation is going to be the most enormous fun. It has been a long day, and whether it has got us any closer to catching Tony Curran’s killer, I’ll let you decide.
I think Joanna saw a different side to me today. Or maybe I saw a different side to myself through her eyes. Either way, it was very pleasant. Also, I’ll tell you about Cornelius, who we liked.
The village is nearly dark now. In life you have to learn to count the good days. You have to tuck them in your pocket and carry them around with you. So I’m putting today in my pocket and I’m off to bed.
I will just finish by saying that back at Charing Cross I nipped into Marks and bought a couple of gin and tonics in a can. Elizabeth and I drank them on the train home.