by Anne Morice
‘Ha ha! Very funny, I must say!’
‘Seriously, though, isn’t that partly why you’re marrying him? Because you terribly need someone to baby you again and love you for yourself?’
‘Partly that, I ’spec,’ she admitted with one of her sheepish grins, ‘but that’s not all of it.’
‘What else?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘I think I can guess.’
‘Bet you can’t then. It’s partly to spite Mum. There now, aren’t you shocked?’
‘Not particularly. I just don’t happen to see it as a very solid foundation for a happy marriage.’
‘You’d be surprised! I’ll get a lot of fun out of it. She’s done her best to ruin my life, so I’ll have a bash at mucking things up for her, and see how she likes it.’
‘Leaving aside your charming filial sentiments, do you imply that your mother seriously considered marrying Jake herself?’
Having, despite my stern efforts not to give her the satisfaction of losing my sang froid, been somewhat stunned by her remarks, it was a pleasure to find that it was now my turn to rock the boat, for her mouth fell open and she stared at me in blank astonishment. Then, breaking into hearty laughter, she spluttered:
‘Lord, no. What a silly, footling idea! It wasn’t Jake she had her eye on. Someone quite different.’
‘In that case, what’s to stop her? How does your marrying Jake affect the situation?’
‘Lots of ways. First of all, she won’t be needed to stick her oar in at Chargrove any more, will she? Everyone thinks I’m a fool, but they’ll soon find out that I’m perfectly capable of running the place on my own. I suppose she can go on living here as long as Uncle Pelham lets her, but there won’t be all that money floating around from now on.’
‘I hardly see that it matters, since you tell me she’s planning to marry again.’
‘Ah, but perhaps he won’t be so keen when she’s no longer rich and important. Can’t you honestly guess who I’m talking about?’
‘There’s no reason why I should. I haven’t met all Serena’s friends.’
She broke into more giggles: ‘You’ve met this one all right, and if you ask me he’s begun to cool off already, otherwise he wouldn’t have gummed up the works like he did. There now! That’s the last clue you’re going to get, so you’ll have to work it out yourself. Time to hit the hay now. I’ve got to be up and away by the crack tomorrow. Nighty night, and sleep tight!’
‘Nighty night,’ I replied in dulcet tones, ‘and I hope your Ovaltine chokes you.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘We thought of going for a tour round the countryside this morning, Serena. Is there anything in the cultural line that we ought to look at?’
‘Depends how far you want to go. There’s a dear little church at Ledbridge, which is only nine miles away.’
‘And a dear little pub for Robin? We plan to have lunch out as well. Save you a bit of toil.’
‘The Coach and Horses is supposed to be quite good.’
‘Any shopping we could do for you, while we’re at it?’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you, darling, and it would save me going down to the village. We need some more steak for dinner. Pelham says Lindy must have lots of protein and they don’t seem to feel that any other kind of food would serve the purpose. Thank goodness they’ll be leaving tomorrow and we can go back to a normal diet. I never want to see another steak as long as I live.’
‘Anything else you need?’
‘Just one or two oddments. I’ll write them down for you, shall I?’
‘Yes, do. I’ll probably forget to take the list with me, but no matter. Once read, it will be engraved on my heart for all time.’
I got a sharp look in response to this, but she did not comment and I said, as she handed me the list: ‘Tell me, Serena, just suppose for the sake of argument that while they were in London Pelham was run over by a bus, what would become of Chargrove then?’
‘Oh, my dearest girl, don’t say such terrible things, even in fun. We’d have to go through the whole dreary business all over again, waiting for seven months to see if Lindy had a son.’
‘And if it was a girl?’
‘Oh, haven’t I told you? In that event it would pass to Rupert’s uncle; his father’s younger brother. He must be very old now, but still alive, as far as I know.’
‘And when he died, what then?’
‘Well, his son would get it, of course. Who else?’
‘You mean old dodderer actually has a son to inherit?’
‘Certainly.’
‘You flabbergast me!’
‘I can’t imagine why, Tessa. I’ve told you often enough of the absurd way Rupert’s grandfather disposed of everything. It’s been at the root of most of our troubles. I suppose that with two hale and hearty grandsons to leave behind him, he never envisaged any complications, but people should be more careful about playing God when it’s going to affect unborn generations.’
‘Yes, I understand all that. What rocked me was learning of all these other male heirs cluttering up the script. I don’t know why, but I always assumed that the old clergyman was a bachelor.’
‘I don’t know why either. There’s no rule about celibacy in the Church of England, and I don’t suppose he has been doddery all his life. Besides, what difference does it make?’
‘Only that I’d assumed that after Pelham’s death, providing he had no son, the entail could be broken and the estate pass to Primrose and her children.’
‘No, nothing of the kind. And now that Pelham has overturned everything by taking on this young wife, the question could only be of academic interest. I’m sure he has a good few years to go before he reaches the doddery stage, and I trust that his chances of being run over by a bus are fairly remote. Now, hadn’t you better make a start, if you mean to see anything before lunch?’
As Robin had pointed out, bringing things into the open does not always have the desired effect, but at least I had advanced another step forward, albeit one which led in the wrong direction.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
1
‘I can only assume she was referring to Richard Soames,’ I explained, answering Robin’s question as we drove through the main gate and turned right for Ledbridge. It was the first opportunity we had had for a private conference since the previous evening and I was bringing him up to date in chronological order, beginning with my late night chat with Primrose.
‘I must confess,’ I went on, ‘that I don’t know whether to believe it or not. Serena’s always been so stuck on this idea of not marrying again.’
‘You think Primrose might have invented it? But why? And why take you into her confidence? I never thought you two were on particularly chummy terms?’
‘Neither did I, but I think that part was probably true. She really does miss her old Nan and the cosy times they used to have of an evening. I just happened to fill the breach last night and that’s what worries me. With all her faults, no one has ever suggested she was a liar.’
‘On the other hand, her view of life is faintly distorted, isn’t it? Specially where her mother is concerned.’
‘Yes, you’re right and it’s most likely a case of self-delusion, rather than direct lying. Serena told me once that there was an idea floating around that Primrose might marry Richard herself, but it fizzled out. Probably he was the one to hang back, but because of this obsession she has about her mother hating her, she’s persuaded herself that Serena warned him off out of jealousy.’
‘More likely still, had allowed the old nurse to persuade her.’
‘Right again! That’s far more logical, but unfortunately it adds another brick to the growing pile and what I need is a brisk wind to come along and blow it all down. Why are we stopping? I don’t see any church.’
‘No, but we’ll be far enough off the road under this tree and I think it’s time to have a squint at our victim’s last words. You
never know what breeze they may stir up.’
I took a sheet of paper from my bag on which Nannie’s last message had been recorded for the fourth time and began to read it aloud in a flat, expressionless voice, as though it were a telegram: ‘No. no time, help me. should have told them, tell Mummie not her fault, not my baby, should have. boy. not the other one. should, sorry Mummie.’
About forty minutes later, when we had re-read it a dozen times, chopped it into sentences, tried out countless conflicting interpretations of each, and done just about everything except translate it into Chinese, Robin said:
‘All right then, if we postulate a conspiracy of silence, with murder at the centre of it, how many other people, apart from those we’ve mentioned, would you say were involved?’
‘Three certainly; probably four and possibly five.’
‘Including the two Thornes?’
‘I’m not sure about Ted, but it wouldn’t surprise me. After all, if our reconstruction is correct, he wouldn’t have had any special affection for the child and Alice, being a pious type, probably saw it as just retribution.’
‘Even so, would they really have kept quiet about a thing like that?’
‘When you consider their built-in feudal attitudes and who they were protecting, I should say they probably would have. To put it on a slightly lower level, they had no proof and, to reduce it to the lowest level of all, good jobs in agriculture, with free houses and unlimited produce thrown in, weren’t all that easy to come by.’
‘How about the doctor?’
‘May have guessed, don’t you think? It would account for a lot and he must already have been in practice by then.’
‘Though for a man in his position wouldn’t it have been a positive duty to take some action, however vague the evidence?’
‘Oh, love is a great conscience quietener.’
‘You hope!’
‘Well, when you think of the times you’ve covered up for me, against your better judgement.’
‘And do you think he was in love with her all those years ago?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Then why, having kept quiet for so long, did he go out of his way to publicise the fact that there was something fishy about the old woman’s death? It was from his testimony that the verdict followed.’
I know, and I’ve been wondering about that too. It was odd, but l think I can explain it, to myself at least.’
‘Then try and do the same for me.’
‘I think he must have got in too deep to pull himself out when he realised where it was leading. Something about Nannie’s death may have struck him as inconsistent with her case history and that, combined with Lindy’s attack, could have given him the idea of food poisoning. At this point, of course, no thought of murder would have entered his head, but he would have felt an obligation to verify the suspicion and, if necessary, trace the source of the poison. That’s how any medical mind would operate, isn’t it?’
‘And so?’
‘So, having failed for one reason and another to obtain any specimens for analysis, he has no choice but to carry out a post mortem. Unfortunately, he didn’t warn anyone of this intention until he was committed to it and when the results became known there was no drawing back. Other people had been involved in the autopsy and when he went into the witness box he had to tell the truth. It’s ironic, really, because if Lindy hadn’t been starting a baby none of it would have happened.’
‘Incidentally, I was under the impression that it was morning sickness that women in her condition suffered from. Nobody said anything about midnight sickness.’
‘I believe it can creep up on you at any old time and in any case you wouldn’t expect Lindy to have just the normal symptoms, would you? It would be a point of honour with her to jiggle them around a bit. Also, to be fair, she may have guessed she was pregnant and part of the nausea came from sheer fright, or even that she’d got a hint of what was going on and was scared on that account.’
‘Nothing would surprise me about that pair,’ Robin admitted, starting the engine as he spoke. ‘Come on, I need a drink before we go into battle. What’s the name of this place we’re supposed to be making for?’
‘Ledbridge. It’s just down the road, and fear not! I’ve already checked up on the amenities and we’re recommended to the Coach and Horses.’
‘How about this friend of yours, Hobley-Johnson?’ Robin asked, when we had found our way to the bar.
‘He seems quite harmless.’
‘Local boy, would you say?’
‘Could easily be. Why?’
‘Old enough to have been on that case?’
‘I shouldn’t think he’d have much recollection of it, and surely the file will have been closed years ago?’
‘Then they can open it up again. You never know, there might be statements from witnesses which would give us a lead, maybe even a photograph or two.’
‘You do realise, Robin, that it could have been Rupert all the time and not Pelham at all?’
‘Oh yes,’ he replied cheerfully, ‘I should say that’s more than likely.’
2
The Superintendent was not at his headquarters and was not expected back for several hours. Robin who was not prepared to give anything away at this stage, least of all his identity, said the matter was not urgent and we should call back later. The desk sergeant received the information with a somewhat old-fashioned look, but did not comment and we repaired once more to the Coach and Horses.
The lunch was not at all bad, the church lived up to Serena’s recommendation and the archives of the local newspaper yielded a small harvest, but none of them really warranted the careful attention they got, for, as we afterwards learnt, about half of that time had been spent by the Superintendent on our very own doorstep at West Lodge. It is doubtful, however, if he would have had much of it to spare for us, had we been aware of this, for he had been summoned there to look into the disappearance of Lindy Hargrave.
She had been missing for not much more than an hour when the police were called in, which on the face of it looked a bit like jumping the gun, but there were various factors to account for it. When finally pieced together, the story was as follows:
Immediately after luncheon Lindy had gone upstairs for her prescribed afternoon rest, leaving Serena alone with Pelham, who had shortly become bored and restless and had taken himself off for a walk round his estate.
Grateful for a little solitude for once, Serena had slipped into a doze on the parlour sofa, from which she was awakened at four o’clock by Mrs Thorne, who had brought her some tea. At her request, Mrs Thorne had then taken a tray up to the spare room, returning almost immediately with the news that no one was there.
Pelham was the first to return and he seemed relatively unmoved by his wife’s absence. She was not given to solitary excursions, but fresh air and exercise had also been prominent among Dr Soames’ recommendations and she was following them meticulously. It was therefore assumed that she had gone for a walk, having left the house very quietly in order not to disturb Serena.
Primrose had arrived home ahead of her usual time, explaining that she had to change into what she called her glad rags, as she and Jake were invited to a cocktail party on the other side of the county. In answer to their enquiries, she said she had come straight from the stables and had not seen anything of Lindy.
In due course Jake had arrived to collect her and they had left the house together about ten minutes later. The small bustle created by these comings and goings had caused Pelham and Serena to lose count of the time and it was not until they were alone again and found that it was past five o’clock that the mood had become tinged with alarm, the reaction, in Pelham’s case, being to take a stroll outside and have a look-see.
Alone once more, Serena had attempted to stifle her growing uneasiness by taking up her needlework, but had hardly got going on the first stitch when she was again interrupted by Mrs Thorne, who came bursting into
the room brandishing a letter. She had found it on Lindy’s dressing table, when she went in to turn down the beds. Having read only two sentences, Serena had leapt up and run into the hall, reaching the front door at the same instant as Pelham entered it. In as few words as possible she had made him see the urgency of the situation and he had picked up the telephone even before she had finished speaking.
We did not see this letter, which had brought matters to a head, until much later, for the Superintendent’s first act had been to take possession of it; but in the interval before he arrived, Serena had read it all through and was able to give us a reasonably accurate transcription.
Anything closer could hardly have been expected of her, for it had obviously been composed by a trembling hand and a mind under great stress. Parts of it were illegible, others incomprehensible.
‘Like a stream of consciousness,’ she told us, ‘with no beginning or end, practically no punctuation and allusions to her childhood all mixed up with the present and future. It wasn’t clear whether she meant that her mother had tried to kill her, or that she had tried to kill her own child. It was so painful, and poor Pelham is distraught. I never felt so sorry for anyone in my life; but the drift of it was that she felt she was being tricked into having this baby and she simply could not face it. Her great fear, apparently, was that if it were born she might not be able to restrain herself from killing it, and it would be better for everyone if she were to kill herself first. Terribly unbalanced, poor child!’
‘But I thought that was all over, Serena? Didn’t you tell me the clever old doctor had fixed everything?’
‘Yes, I did, but the neurosis must have been far more serious than he or Pelham realised, and I suppose once the novelty had worn off all the old fears came crowding back.’
‘So what’s the position now?’
‘Oh, the search goes on, just like the last time. To think of being asked to live through all that again! Someone said they were going to drag the lake next. Of course there was no need for that last time because it was frozen over, but otherwise it’s like some terrible, recurring dream, and as far as I can see it might go on for hours. We shall probably sit here all night, not knowing what’s become of her and whether she’s alive or dead. I can’t bear to think what Pelham must be suffering.’