Nursery Tea and Poison

by Anne Morice

  In view of Primrose’s moonlight caperings on the night of Nannie’s death, I doubted if Serena had gauged that situation accurately, but since it was a question liable to unlock further floodgates of self-recrimination, I chose another one:

  ‘Have they settled the date yet?’

  ‘If so, they haven’t told me, but I daresay I shall be the last to hear, since she flatly refuses to discuss it with me. Personally, I should think the sooner the better.’

  ‘Is that so? I had the impression you weren’t wholly in favour of the match?’

  ‘I’m not; quite the contrary, but since they are determined to go ahead, irrespective of my wishes, I consider it would be a pity to waste any more time than they need to. How old would you say he is?’

  ‘Sixty-four, according to Who’s Who in the Theatre.’

  ‘There you are! Not only old enough to be her father; old enough to be her grandfather!’

  ‘Nevertheless, he probably has what one might call a few active years ahead of him.’

  ‘Which was more than Rupert had when we were married,’ she admitted wistfully.

  ‘Which just goes to show that picking on someone of your own age is no guarantee of a long and happy marriage.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ she snapped. ‘Rupert and I were madly in love. If I had to choose again, I’d far, far rather spend one year with him than a lifetime with anyone else. Primrose is quite different. I know exactly what she’s after and love doesn’t come into it. It’s Chargrove she’s marrying, not Jake.’

  ‘Whatever her motives, you shouldn’t be too discouraged. If she does find the price too high, she can always join the ranks of the divorced wives and live at Chargrove on his alimony.’

  ‘Really, darling, you can be very cynical sometimes.’

  ‘I know, but I always recommend people to settle for half a loaf if it’s all they can get, and only the other day you were complaining because there was no husband at all in the offing. At least you’ve progressed a step or two from there.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t agree. As you know, I always blamed Nannie for that, and I did believe . . . well, I know it’s wicked to wish for anyone’s death, however old and useless they may be, or to be thankful when it comes, but I confess that I had allowed myself to hope that it wouldn’t come too late for Primrose to break out of her shell and grow up. And so I believe she would have, given time, but now Jake has snapped her up even before she’s been able to draw breath and look around. It’s too sickening for anything.’

  It was also beginning to sound very much as though, in Serena’s view, Nannie had died in vain and I was tempted to warn her not to express it too publicly. However, the opportunities for a private talk, such as we were then having, were becoming increasingly rare and there was one much more urgent matter which I needed to clear up. I was searching for a tactful way of broaching it when, to my disgust, we were interrupted by Pelham. He stuck his head round the door and asked:

  ‘Serena love, what’s Richard’s number?’

  ‘Four four one. Why? What do you want him for?’ she answered in a flutter of apprehension.

  ‘Lindy’s being sick again.’

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘Oh yes! As a dog. Personally, I think we should remove ourselves to London at the earliest possible moment and see a specialist, but she has formed the opinion that the journey would kill her in her present state, so we shall have to make do with the local talent for the time being.’

  ‘What do you suppose it is? Nerves or something?’

  ‘Now whatever makes you say that?’ Pelham asked, coming right into the room and closing the door behind him in a faintly sinister fashion. ‘What has Lindy got to feel nervous about?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it in that sense. More sort of upset was what I meant. After all, it can’t be very pleasant for her being thrust into a houseful of strangers and then all these horrid things to happen. Enough to upset anyone.’

  ‘Oh, bosh, my darling! Lindy’s totally indifferent to anything which doesn’t touch her personally. It’s one of her charms. She’d have far more cause to be upset if you were not all strangers.’

  ‘Well, I’m relieved to hear that, but it doesn’t alter the fact that she’s not well. Do you suppose she could be sickening for something?’

  ‘Now you mention it, I should say that’s far more likely. Mumps or measles, I shouldn’t wonder. I do hope Primrose has had them all. It would be rather maddening if she were to succumb on her wedding day.’

  Evidently displeased by this flippancy, Serena glanced at her watch and said primly:

  ‘In any case, you must try and get hold of Richard right away. He starts on his afternoon rounds about now, but you might just catch him. Or would you rather I saw to it?’

  ‘If you would be such a blessed angel. You know him so much better than I do and one can’t deny there was a little coolness last time we met. I was never much good at climbing down and admitting my mistakes, as you probably remember.’

  I had moved over to the window while they were hammering this out between them, seeing it as no concern of mine, but now turned round again to deliver a timely warning:

  ‘You’d better look sharp. A car has just driven up and two men are getting out. They look to me strangely like policemen.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  1

  Detective Superintendent Hobley-Johnson, supported by Sergeant Kyles, interviewed Serena in the parlour, whence Pelham and I were firmly and politely dismissed. He was a pallid, freckly man, with white eyelashes and rather vacant looking blue eyes, and it must have been the more conventionally attired sergeant who had so clearly proclaimed their profession. The Superintendent wore a check suit and pale suède boots and looked more like a motor salesman trying to look like a Guards Officer. He had manners to fit this dual personality too, for they varied between a somewhat forced geniality and the cool, quiet authority of the born leader of men.

  I did not expect either approach to do much to reassure Serena, whose expression, when asked if he might have a few words with her in private, would have been more fitting on the prisoner in the dock waiting for the judge to pass sentence.

  Pelham also seemed strangely ruffled and I was amazed to see how little either of them had apparently been prepared for this visit. I should certainly have taken care to announce it less abruptly if it had occurred to me that anyone could doubt, since a murder was presumed to have taken place on the premises, that sooner or later the police would evince some curiosity about it.

  ‘Be a love and ring up the doctor for me, will you?’ Pelham called out, galloping up the stairs as he spoke. ‘Must go and see how the poor pet’s coming along. Shan’t be long.’

  He was as good as his word and in less than ten minutes was back again, moving at a soberer pace and having combed his hair and put on a tie, as well as attending to the poor pet in the interval.

  ‘All’s well,’ he said airily. ‘She’s feeling much better now. A little tendency to hypochondria there, between you and me. She could manage a cup of tea, so cancel the call and put the kettle on, will you, Polly darling?’

  ‘Too late,’ I replied, all the more smugly for resenting his assumption that I had nothing more pressing to concern me than his wife’s imaginary illnesses. ‘He was just going out and he won’t be back until evening surgery. He’ll try and get here around five o’clock.’

  ‘Oh, will he? How very boring of him! However, I daresay he leaves a record of where he’s going. See if you can get his secretary or whatever. She may be able to catch him at some point along the route.’

  The odd thing about Pelham was that although on the surface not a highly perceptive man, if he were a fake the impersonation was truly inspired. It was hard to believe that anyone apart from a born and bred Hargrave sibling could display such sublime confidence in my desire to implement his slightest wish. I was debating whether to hand him some story about the doctor’s receptionist having gone to the hai
rdresser, or simply to point to the telephone in a marked manner when the conflict was brought to an end by the parlour door opening and Serena joining us in the hall.

  ‘Ah, there you both are, that’s lucky! The Superintendent would like to talk to you, Tessa. You too, Pelham, if you wouldn’t mind, but he’d like Tessa to go first.’

  ‘How was it?’ I muttered, using the ventriloquist technique, for she had left the door open, but she merely frowned and shook her head, then turned to Pelham to enquire after Lindy.

  Ignoring this, he said: ‘As it happens, I do mind. There is nothing whatever I can tell him and, so far as he is concerned, I am virtually a stranger in these parts.’

  ‘I can see you first, Mr Hargrave, if that would be more convenient,’ the Superintendent said, materialising in the doorway.

  ‘No, it wouldn’t, not at all. As I was pointing out to my sister-in-law, I am only a visitor here and I know nothing at all about what happened.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I take it you would not wish to obstruct us in our duty, sir? On the other hand, if you would prefer to call in at the station, when you can spare the time?’ the Superintendent enquired, with an odd mixture of menace and amusement in his voice.

  It must have been the menacing ingredient which got through to Pelham, for he dropped his bullying manner and said with a touch of bravado:

  ‘Oh, very well, if it means getting you into trouble with your superiors, far be it from me . . . I’ll let you have Mrs Price first, however. My wife is far from well and I must find out if there is anything she needs before you slip the handcuffs on.’

  ‘I shall want to see her as well, as soon as she feels up to it,’ the Superintendent called after him, still sounding amused, although, since he was now playing it so cool and canny, softly enough for Pelham to pretend not to have heard him. ‘And now, if you’ll be good enough to step this way, Mrs Price? I shan’t keep you a moment.’

  2

  It is always hard to assess what people mean to convey by that remark, for experience has shown it to be largely meaningless. It comes into the same category as interrupting someone by telling them that you haven’t come to interrupt them.

  In this case the moment stretched to approximately a quarter of an hour, with me perched on the green brocade sofa, the Sergeant crouched over Serena’s kneehole writing desk, giving the impression that he might shatter it to pieces with one careless stroke of the ball-point pen, and the Superintendent taking no chances and standing with legs apart in front of the fireplace, reminiscent of one just returned from a day out with the Heythrop.

  He began with the routine questions, from which it emerged that I was Mrs Theresa Price of Beacon Square, S.W.1., also professionally known on stage and screen as Theresa Crichton. Evidently, this was not a name he had ever heard of and furthermore there was no sign of his feeling that he ought to have heard of it, so I awarded him nought for diplomacy and we passed on to the next round of questions.

  These concerned the duration of my stay at West Lodge and in the process of answering them I contrived to let it be known who had dropped me off there on the previous Friday, and in what circumstances. This brought mention of a name he most decidedly had heard of and I noticed that his shifting of weight from one foot to the other coincided precisely with the moment when our little talk moved on to a new level of mutual understanding.

  From this point everything flowed along smoothly, with none of that uncomfortable probing for details which I had secretly feared, and when it came to my account of finding Nannie and of describing her last conscious moments, which was naturally the crux of the interview, I was able to steer a straight and narrow course between two precipices. One of these had been created by his asking whether she had said anything which might have some bearing on the manner of her death and although he put this question in various forms he did not appear to doubt me when I maintained that she had mentioned no names and had said nothing which was really intelligible. There was no reason why he should have, since it was perfectly true, but I hardly felt compelled to add that, having committed them to paper, I could, if he had requested it, have repeated every word she uttered. Goodness knows what he might have made of them, but I was not prepared to risk finding out at least until I had consulted Robin.

  The second point of reticence was connected with Serena’s evidence and here the form of the questions made it even simpler to draw a few veils. It came right at the end of the interview when, having thanked me for my co-operation and mentioned that I should be asked to sign a statement in due course, he added:

  ‘By the way, Mrs Price, just one other small matter. It has to do with those missing spectacles. I don’t suppose you can throw any light on it, for I understand they were lost before your arrival, but you wouldn’t have any knowledge of their present whereabouts?’

  What I had instead was a direct clue to this part of Serena’s statement, enabling me to answer firmly:

  ‘Sorry, no. She did mention to me that she’d lost them, when I was talking to her earlier in the day, and as far as I know they’re still missing, but that’s all I can tell you.’

  This was also true, as far as it went, but he accepted it in such good faith, merely flapping his white lashes at me and saying, ‘Jolly good!’ in such a very sad voice that it was some minutes before I stopped feeling like a mean, rotten skunk.

  3

  ‘So you came, after all?’ Pelham said, emerging from the parlour himself about half an hour later and casting one of his haughty and insolent looks at Dr Soames who had just arrived. ‘Didn’t you get my message? Your receptionist promised to pass it on to you at the hospital.’

  ‘And so she did. In the circumstances, I chose to ignore it.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey. My wife is recovering.’

  ‘I think that is for me to decide.’

  ‘My dear fellow, you can’t force yourself on her, if she doesn’t wish to see you.’

  ‘Yes, I can,’ Dr Soames replied most equably, ‘in the circumstances.’

  As before, Pelham capitulated in the face of implacable opposition and, putting on a feeble show of being in control of the situation, said carelessly:

  ‘Oh well, on second thoughts, perhaps it’s just as well you are here. That bobby in there has had the impudence to say that he wants to interview Lindy. You can tell him that she’s in no condition for anything of the kind.’

  ‘I think that will also be for me to decide. Shall we go up now?’

  ‘You know the way,’ Pelham said and then turned to vent some of his frustration on me, demanding to know where Serena was.

  ‘In her room, I believe. And, by the way, people don’t call them bobbies any more. I doubt if they did, even when you were a boy.’

  This, however, was not the kind of thrust to get through his defences.

  ‘We were brought up by a very old-fashioned lady, don’t forget,’ he said, lifting me into the air, so that my face was on a level with his when he kissed me. ‘Come along, let’s both go and find her. I have news to impart and little Miss Big Ears may as well hear it at first hand. Or does that expression date me too?’

  ‘Not particularly, although I don’t see why you should apply it to me.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve seen you watching us all, don’t think I haven’t. Quite unnerving sometimes.’

  ‘Why? Have you got a guilty conscience?’

  ‘What a stupid question for such a bright girl! Do you know anyone who hasn’t? I would have expected you to do better than that.’

  ‘All right, try this: tell me in two sentences what you want to say to Serena. In that way I shan’t have to listen to the padded out version you’ll give her and can transfer my snooping to more rewarding areas.’

  ‘Oh, there won’t be any padding out of this one, let me assure you. I simply wish to tell her that as soon as Lindy feels well enough to travel we intend to remove ourselves to London. As my hostess, I consider that Serena has every right to kno
w.’

  ‘Won’t you need permission from your bobby before you do that? There’s a murder investigation on foot, in case you didn’t know.’

  ‘Ah, now you’re being stupid again. You really should credit me with a little more sense that to walk out without clearing it with the rozzers. It would be tantamount to an admission of guilt, I daresay. In fact, the jolly old bobby assures me that he hasn’t the least objection, so long as I leave my address. Not even required to surrender my passport, you notice? I don’t think he can quite be putting his heart and soul into this business, do you?’

  ‘What kind of passport do you hold, Pelham?’

  ‘Now there’s a funny question! I wonder what you’re up to this time?’

  ‘I simply wondered if it was dark green or dark blue.’

  ‘Ah yes, I follow you.’

  ‘Since you’ve been pursuing your career in the States for the past quarter of a century, I thought you might have found it necessary to become an American citizen by this time?’

  ‘No, that only happens to people who don’t completely know their way around. You still have a lot to learn. And now, if you’ll excuse me and have found out enough to keep you happy for a bit, I shall find Serena and break the news. I expect her, and my niece too, to be quite overjoyed, so it seems a shame to leave them in the dark longer than we can help.’

  Nevertheless, some further delay proved inescapable because he was only halfway to Serena’s room when Dr Soames appeared on the landing and said something which, to my regret I could not catch. Pelham continued on past his original destination, then I heard another door shut and after that silence.

  As though he had been waiting in the wings, the jolly old sergeant bobby came out of the parlour and informed me that the statement was now typed out and awaited my perusal and signature.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN