by Anne Morice
‘Leave it to me,’ she said in a hoarse, but nonetheless self-important, voice. ‘I’ll see to it. He’ll probably tear a strip off me when he hears how I went out and left her, but that can’t be helped. It’s no more than I flaming well deserve.’
3
Alone once more, Serena and I drooped into an uncomfortable silence. Personally, I had become uneasily conscious all over again of the old woman lying dead only six feet above our heads and of the necessity to do something about her, although I had no idea what. Nor did I have any clue to Serena’s thoughts during this lull, until she enlightened me by saying:
‘The thing to remember about Primrose is that she’s really very highly strung. People always assume that because she’s such a hefty, outdoor type, she must have the temperament of a ploughboy to match, but it’s not true. The slightest thing sends her into hysteria.’
‘But this is not the slightest thing, is it? One can understand her losing control now. It must have been a fearful shock.’
‘Oh yes, but did you notice how quickly she managed to push it away by making herself the centre of attention? All that nonsense about being to blame, it’s so immature, isn’t it? Just play acting, really, to avoid facing unpleasant realities.’
I did not argue, feeling that her need was to convince herself, rather than me, and after another pause she went on:
‘You know, I sometimes feel that’s at the back of her obsession about Chargrove. It’s not so much that she loves the place for itself, but it’s so much more fun to see herself as the dispossessed heroine cheated out of her inheritance by the wicked uncle.’
‘Is that really her view of Pelham?’
‘It would be, if he gave her half a chance. Unfortunately for her fantasies, he patently doesn’t give two hoots for the ancestral home. He’d be delighted to hand it over to Primrose, I daresay, if she could afford to pay him a decent rent.’
‘Well, perhaps one of us could drop a hint as to what is required of him, but in the meantime, Serena, do you think perhaps you ought to go up and see Nannie? What I mean is, I’m not, you know . . . very experienced in these matters, and I may have left undone something which ought to have been done.’
‘Oh, do you really want me to?’ she asked in a frightened voice. ‘To be honest with you, I’d much rather not. I have such a horror of death, you see, specially this kind.’
‘Which kind?’
‘Oh well, you know, very sudden . . . like a heart attack is bound to be. It comes from being brought up in a doctor’s house, I think. Casualty patients didn’t automatically go to hospital in those days. Quite often they were brought straight to the surgery after an accident, and one used to see the most appalling sights. I remember one child who’d been run over . . . simply ghastly. There was blood all over the hall.’
‘Well, there isn’t any blood in the nursery, Serena, I can assure you of that,’ I said, wondering if the shock had temporarily unhinged her.
‘No, of course not, darling, how could there be? I’m being a silly, hysterical coward, aren’t I? Nothing much to choose between me and Primrose, when you get right down to it. I’ll just run up and take a tiny peep, to say goodbye as it were, and then it will be over and done with, won’t it? After all, you’ve been through a much worse ordeal than that. Well, thank goodness you were here, that’s all I can say.’
When she had gone I remained in the doorway, wondering whether to call on Pelham and Lindy and find out how matters were progressing in that camp, or whether to go down to the kitchen and make some coffee to keep myself awake. I could hear Primrose speaking on the telephone in the hall and before I managed to choose between my two boring alternatives she rang off and came upstairs, two steps at a time.
‘Where’s Mum?’ she demanded, having pushed her way past me into Serena’s bedroom.
‘She’ll be back in a minute,’ I said, avoiding the direct answer, for fear of setting her off again. ‘Is the doctor coming?’
‘Yes, leaving right away, he said.’
‘In that case, he might be glad of some coffee when he gets here. Shall we go and see to it?’
‘You can, if you want to. The mere thought of it would choke me. Can’t expect a clot like you to understand how I feel,’ she replied ramming the point home by flopping down on the bed and starting to cry.
I raked up one or two conventional phrases of sympathy, but she ignored them and continued to sob into a rather grubby handkerchief, so I left her to it and went out to the landing again.
This time it was a sound from above which dictated the next move. I heard the lavatory flushing in the nursery bathroom and it grew louder as the door was pulled open.
‘Are you all right, Serena?’ I called, alarmed at the prospect of yet another invalid on our hands. However, when she came forward and lent over the banister she sounded quite steady and composed, although smelling rather strongly of disinfectant.
‘Quite all right, thank you, darling; just tidying things up a little. You didn’t tell me she’d been . . . you know . . . ill.’
‘No, that’s right, I didn’t.’
‘Poor old thing, it seemed heartless to leave her with all that . . . so squalid, somehow.’
‘I was on my way to make some coffee. Is that a good idea?’
‘Splendid! What a help you are! How’s Primrose?’
‘In rather a state, actually. I think you should come and deal with her as soon as you can.’
‘Yes, I will. Tell her I’ll be down in a jiff.’
She had not made any reference to Pelham or Lindy, but as all now seemed quiet on that front I decided to forget about them as well, and, having passed on the message to Primrose and received an angry snort in response, I pattered down to the kitchen.
4
Making the coffee was more of a chore than I had anticipated. Even boiling the kettle presented problems, for I had overlooked the fact that it had its own private switch on the handle. Having rectified this omission and got things humming at last, I next ran into trouble over the sugar. There was a bowl of the coloured crystal variety among the unwashed after dinner coffee cups, but it looked rather too festive for such a grave occasion. None of the kitchen or dining room cupboards yielded up any alternative, so as a last resort I spread the net over the larder as well. The remains of the gooseberry tart and the jug of cream were there on the marble shelf, covered with butter muslin, but I got a nasty shock when I lifted it up because there was a mouse trap, baited with a lump of cheese, standing between them. It was cold and dank in there too, so I abandoned the search and opted for the coloured crystals, after all.
I was carrying the tray through the hall when the doorbell rang, but it would have been superfluous to change course because before the sound had died away the front door opened and a tall, springy man stepped inside. He was in his late forties, at a guess, but going bald, as I discovered when he removed his flat tweed cap, and he had a long, inquisitive nose, lively brown eyes and an agreeably self-confident manner.
I introduced myself and briefly outlined my part in the evening’s events and he patted me on the shoulder, saying: ‘Splendid! Excellent! Well done!’ as though I were a schoolgirl boasting about her triumph in the hundred yards free stroke. He then asked me to tell Serena that he was on his way up to the nursery and would report to her later.
I followed him as far as the first floor, but Serena’s door was now shut and I had to use a corner of the tray to give it a sharp tap. A moment later she joined me on the landing, closing the door behind her again. I passed on the doctor’s message and she said:
‘I hope he won’t be too long because I’m really worried about Primrose. I’m so afraid she’ll make herself ill if she goes on like this.’
‘You mean the hysterics are back? I thought she’d cooled down?’
‘So did I, but it didn’t last. I suppose it was having something constructive to do which had the calming effect, but now we’re back to tears and remorse. I don’t think
it’s entirely put on either. She wouldn’t go to so much trouble just to impress me.’
‘How about a stiff brandy?’
Serena shook her head: ‘Straight through the roof, if we even suggested it. Alcohol is strictly taboo. Another of Nannie’s phobias and I have a nasty feeling that her law is going to be even more closely observed from now on.’
‘Why not leave her alone for a bit and let her cry it out, or whatever the expression is? How about some coffee for you? You look as though you could do with a stimulant.’
‘I never felt so drained in my life. Who could ever have imagined only a few hours ago that we’d be in this state? I feel guilty about Lindy too. I know the very least I should do is go and ask how she is, but somehow I simply can’t face it at the moment.’
‘Forget it. She’s got Pelham to look after her.’
‘I know, and that’s strange, isn’t it? I realise he’s demented about her, which is as it should be, but wouldn’t you think he could spare time to come and give me a little support? Specially as he always made out he was so devoted to Nan.’
‘He doesn’t know yet that she’s dead.’
‘Doesn’t know? What do you mean, Tessa? He must know.’
‘If so, he didn’t hear it from you or me. When I bumped into Lindy she was far too full of her own miseries to take in anything else, and if you think back you’ll recall that Pelham was just as bad. He simply marched in, commanded us to pipe down and then marched out again.’
‘But for goodness sake, what did he imagine we were all doing, sobbing and shouting at each other at past midnight?’
‘I wondered about that too, but perhaps that kind of thing is normal practice in California. It wasn’t all that late by city standards.’
‘Then surely he ought to be told at once?’
‘There’s absolutely nothing he can do at this point. I should think your doctor could take care of everything quite adequately, by the look of him.’
Incapable of remaining perpendicular any longer, we were sitting on the floor by this time, with the tray between us, like two eccentric picnickers and it was thus that Dr Soames found us when he came down from the nursery floor and nodded reassuringly to Serena.
‘I’ve done the necessary,’ he told her, ‘and I can see to the formalities for you in the morning. She won’t have suffered much and a saint couldn’t have taken better care of her than you did, so there’s no need to upset yourself and don’t let’s have any foolish remorse.’
‘I don’t feel even that at the moment,’ Serena confessed. ‘Only a kind of numbness. It seems utterly incredible to me, after all these years, that we’ll never see her again. And there was no warning, you see, nothing at all to show us there was anything wrong.’
‘Ah well, that’s often the way with coronary cases. She was all set to get another attack eventually. It was mainly her own fault, you know, that it came sooner rather than later.’
‘Oh, darling. Richard, how can you talk like that?’
‘Common sense. I’d warned her often enough, as you very well know. She was grossly overweight and sitting about on her behind all day, stuffing herself with rich food at your expense brought its own retribution. Still, even if she’d listened to me it would probably only have made a year or two’s difference, so there’s no point in going over that again. I’ll say goodnight and be on my way, if there’s nothing more I can do for you.’
‘There is just one thing, Richard. I know it’s horrid of me to keep you from your bed any longer, but I’d be truly grateful if you’d take a look at Primrose. I’m worried about her.’
‘Taking it hard, is she? Doesn’t surprise me. Never mind, I’ll soon fix her up.’
Serena led him into her bedroom and I stayed outside, drinking a third cup of coffee, which had an even more soporific effect than the first two. I was packing up the tray when Dr Soames came alongside again.
‘Can you spare a minute?’ he asked.
‘Yes, certainly.’
‘Come down to the hall, then.’
When we reached it, he opened his brown attaché case, saying: ‘I’ve given Primrose a sedative. It ought to knock her out for a few hours and Serena should stay with her until she drops off. She might be the one to drop first, by the look of her and that wouldn’t be bad either. I’ll take care of everything and look in and see them tomorrow. Today, rather,’ he added, glancing at his watch.
He had taken a white printed card out of his case and was unscrewing his fountain pen while he spoke.
‘What’s that?’ I asked between yawns. ‘A prescription?’
‘Death certificate. I didn’t like to introduce the painful subject in front of Primrose, but they’ll need it for the undertakers. Be a good girl and hang on to it until you get a chance to hand it over to Serena, will you?’
He snapped his case shut and put on his cap while I suppressed another gigantic yawn and I asked him:
‘Are you going?’
‘Yes. Nothing more to be done here tonight and I’ve got a surgery at nine o’clock.’
‘Poor you!’
‘If you take my advice, you’ll pack it in yourself.’
‘I’d like nothing better, but what about the other patient?’
‘Which other patient?’
‘Oh, didn’t anyone tell you? Well, that’s probably my fault. Things have got a bit haywire tonight, but it’s the other Mrs Hargrave. You know, Pelham’s wife.’
‘What’s the matter with her?’
‘Bilious attack or something. She’s been sick several times. Pelham seemed to think she was in a bad way, but that was an hour ago and she may have recovered by now. Ought I to go and find out?’
I always expect doctors to be men of steel, receiving the most horrendous revelations with a plastic calm, but this one did not come up to scratch, for my simple remarks had virtually turned him to stone. Only his eyes retained a vestige of life and he used them to fix me with a long and wondering stare. Then, as movement returned, he very deliberately replaced his cap on the table, opened his case and stretched forth a hand for the death certificate, which he placed inside it. After all that he said:
‘I think we’ll both go. Be good enough to show me their room.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘Furthermore, he absolutely insisted on examining her, despite Pelham’s opposition,’ I told Robin as we strolled in Chargrove Park on Saturday morning.
He had called me from his hotel at eight-thirty, on the point of leaving for London, but on hearing my condensed version of the events at West Lodge, had signified his intention of stopping off there on the way. I had been rather mystified by this, since at the time Dr Soames had still to plant his bombshell under our feet, and also because I had striven to play down my account to Robin, assuming that he had more important things on his mind. This was not so, however, for, as I was shortly to read for myself in the morning paper a man and a woman had spent the night at a police station, helping the police with their enquiries into the death on the M.6 motorway of Mr Cyril Stott. As the female partner of this pair was named as Mrs Marian Stott, it did not take a genius to see that Scotland Yard’s role in the affair was now virtually concluded, or that Robin considered he had earned himself a few hours’ grace.
‘Why did Pelham oppose it?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure. The reason he gave was that Lindy had just gone to sleep and he didn’t wish her to be woken up.’
‘And why shouldn’t that have been true?’
‘Perhaps it was, but he stuck to it even after Dr Soames had told him about Nannie and that there was a remote chance that her death had been brought on by food poisoning.’
‘How did Pelham take the news, by the way? It was the first he’d heard of it, I gather?’
‘I’m not sure that he connected at first. For one thing, Dr Soames referred to her throughout as Miss Childers, which I suppose was natural enough, seeing that she was his old patient and not his old nurse, but it seemed s
uch an extraordinarily coincidental name for one of her calling that in thinking about it I quite lost the thread myself, for a while.’
‘No reason why it should have affected Pelham in that way. He must have known perfectly well what her name was. Unless of course,’ Robin added thoughtfully, ‘you take the view that he’s an impostor; that the real Pelham died in a saloon brawl in Backache, Montana, and this man stole his papers and is impersonating him, a sort of Chargrove Tichborne. That’s rather your scene, isn’t it?’
‘Oh yes,’ I agreed, ‘I think we can assume that quite safely; except that he is at least a British impostor, which seems to make it slightly more excusable; and, to be fair, even the real Pelham might have tripped up over Nannie’s surname, after all these years.’
‘So what happened in the end? Was he finally persuaded to let the doctor see his wife?’
‘Yes, when it had been spelt out for him that she might also be suffering from food poisoning and possibly in urgent need of hospital treatment. In other words, that she might not be so much asleep as going into a coma. Pelham could hardly stand out against that.’
‘No, and Soames was pitching it pretty strong, wasn’t he?’
‘Perhaps he thought Pelham was lying. He may have got it into his head that as well as being an impostor he’s also an escaped homicidal maniac who goes around sprinkling arsenic in the sugar.’
‘Why that particularly? I mean why does your mind leap to arsenic in the sugar?’
‘And I’m quite unable to tell you. There must have been a link somewhere, but if so it’s gone again. Or perhaps I simply got the idea this morning from Dr Soames. He certainly seems to think there was something fishy about it, although I don’t believe he mentioned any specific form of poison. On the other hand, if there has been some funny business, my money would be on Pelham every time.’
‘That seems unfair, since I gather it turned out there was nothing sinister about Lindy’s condition, after all.’