Free The Scold's Bridle by Minette Walters

one way and another, and she was becoming increasingly troubled by Mathilda's memory. Their relationship, a light-hearted one at best, was turning oppressive in retrospect, and she resented the old woman's assumption that she could manipulate her doctor after her death and without prior permission. It was neither Sarah's business nor her wish to act as mediator in an acrimonious legal battle between Joanna and her daughter. "I'm as much in.the dark as you are, Mrs. Lascelles, and probably just as annoyed," she said frankly. "I've a week's shopping to do, a house to clean and a garden to take care of. I'm only here because Mr. Duggan said if I didn't come then he would have to postpone this meeting until I could. I thought that would be even more upsetting for you and Ruth"-she shrugged-"so I agreed to it."
    Joanna was on the point of answering when the door swung open and Ruth walked in, followed by a smiling middle-aged man carrying a video recorder with a briefcase balanced on top of it. "Mr. Duggan," she said curtly, flopping into her chair again. "He wants to use the television. Would you believe, Granny's made a frigging video-will?"
    "Not strictly true, Miss Lascelles," said the man, bending down to place the recorder on the floor beside the television. He straightened and held out a hand to Joanna, guessing correctly that she was Mathilda's daughter. "How do you do, Mrs. Lascelles." He moved across to Sarah, who had stood up, and shook her hand also. "Dr. Blakeney." He gestured to the chairs. "Please sit down. I'm very aware that all our time is precious, so I don't intend to take up more of it than I need to. I am here as one of the joint executors of the last written will and testament of Mrs. Mathilda Beryl Gillespie, copies of which I will give you in a few minutes, and from which you may satisfy yourselves that it does in fact supersede any previous will or wills made by Mrs. Gillespie. The other joint executor is Mr. John Hapgood, currently manager of Barclays Bank, Hills Road, Poole. In both instances, of course, we hold our responsibilities as executors on behalf of our firms so should either of us cease employment with the said firms, then another executor will be appointed in our place." He paused briefly. "Is all that quite clear?" He glanced from one to the other. "Good. Now, if you'll bear with me for a moment, I'll just connect the video to the television." He produced a coil of coaxial cable like a magician from his pocket and plugged one end into the television and the other into the video recorder. "And now a power socket," he murmured, unrolling a wire and a plug from the back of the video. "If I remember correctly, it's above the skirting board to the right of the fireplace. Ah, yes, here we are. Splendid. And just in case you're wondering how I knew, then let me explain that Mrs. Gillespie invited me here to make an inventory of all her possessions." He beamed at them. "Purely to avoid acrimonious arguments between the relative parties after the will has been read."
    Sarah was aware that her mouth had been hanging open since he entered the room. She shut it with a conscious effort and watched him deftly tune the television to receive the signal from the recorder, then open his briefcase and remove a video cassette which he inserted into the recorder before standing back to let Mathilda speak for herself. You could have heard a pin drop, she thought, as Mathilda's face materialized on the screen. Even Ruth sat as if carved in stone, her cigarette temporarily forgotten between her fingers.
    The well-remembered voice, with its strident upper-class vowels, spoke confidently from the amplifier.
    "Well, my dears," Mathilda's lips thinned scornfully, "I'm sure you're wondering why I insisted on bringing you together like this. Joanna, I have no doubt, is cursing me quietly under her breath, Ruth is nursing yet another grievance and Sarah, I suspect, is beginning to wish she had never met me." The old woman