I Am Heathcliff

by Kate Mosse

  On and on the notes go, with disasters piling up at every turn: the parents of Linton Heathcliff announced they were getting divorced and the poor boy wept through every rehearsal thereafter; it transpired that Hareton Earnshaw had a theatrical agent and had secretly auditioned for a part in the chorus of a West End show. He got the part, had to drop out of I Am Heathcliff!, and, by the sound of it, was loathed and ostracised for his betrayal by teachers and pupils alike.

  Florence has made an effort to ensure that her notes are as chronological as they can be, so I come across Lucy Ross’s death only on the third-to-last page.

  There was a room on the third floor of The Morrow where pupils were allowed to go if they had free periods, or during breaks and lunchtimes – a sort of students’ common room. The window from which Lucy Ross was pushed was in that room. A group of her fellow pupils had gathered on the grass beneath. There were five of them. One was Cameron Lee, the ash-blond Heathcliff. Lucy hit the ground a few centimetres from where they were standing.

  Florence’s notes tell me that all five were in unanimous agreement about what they’d seen and heard. First, they’d heard a girl’s voice coming from above, shouting, ‘Heathcliff!’ They’d looked up and seen Lucy leaning out of the window, waving. She’d seemed fine, they said, and not unhappy. She and Cameron had by this point resolved their differences, and all snogging of unhappy, abandoned Giorgio Frasco had ceased.

  The five reported that Lucy had then turned back into the room and said first, ‘I’m sorry,’ and then ‘What are you doing?’, followed by – in a tone that was a mix of bewilderment and indignation – ‘Who?’ And then she’d fallen.

  The obvious suspects are listed by Florence: Giorgio Frasco and Ariella Huxley. No one else, as far as anyone could see, had a motive for wanting Lucy Ross dead. Her death occurred at a time when most of the pupils and teachers were in lessons. Both Giorgio and Ariella had been in a Spanish lesson together and couldn’t have pushed Lucy.

  Florence obviously imagined that whoever would read her notes might suspect Mrs Maxwell and Mrs Gate, the music and drama teachers, because she’s underlined the note that they were both teaching classes when Lucy died.

  The only people with free periods at the relevant time were the dyslexic pupils who were excused from some of the language classes, Florence has written. She’s listed them, and the only two names I recognise are Lucy Ross and Max Pethers. Max could have been in the room with Lucy when she died, according to Florence, but he and Lucy were quite close friends and she’d stuck up for him when Ariella Huxley had made her ‘only Joseph’ remark. Florence believes there’s no way that Max would have harmed Lucy, or indeed anybody. Max has apparently developed a range of nervous tics since Lucy died and his body now makes uncontrollable twitching movements. He is often not at school because of his psychological issues.

  I frown. Dr Adebayo didn’t mention this when she was telling me that, for everyone but Florence Liddon, the past was the past. Not for twitching Max Pethers, if Florence’s account can be relied upon.

  My eyes widen when I read the next paragraph: ‘Max has never said where he was when Lucy died. He says he wasn’t in the room with her, or anywhere near it, but he refuses to say where he was at the time. I’ve tried to talk to him about this, but it’s hard, and once I got a day’s detention for forcing a conversation and upsetting him. I don’t understand why he won’t just say where he was!! Max is the kind of boy who would no way have been doing anything wrong or forbidden. He’s just not that sort of person. My theory, which I can’t prove, is that maybe he was on his way to the room at the start of his free period, and he saw someone push Lucy out of the window. If the person didn’t see him, then of course he wouldn’t want to admit he was anywhere near there, in case the killer worked out that he might have seen something, and killed him too.’

  I put down the notes and think. If Florence believes that Max Pethers would never harm Lucy, might that mean that he liked her rather a lot – enough to seethe with envy as the two Heathcliffs, blond and dark, competed for her attention, while he – only Joseph, after all – didn’t get a look-in?

  Of all the Morrow pupils I’ve read about in Florence’s notes, Max Pethers sounds the closest in type to Philip Oxley: a weird boy with lots of problems, behaving strangely. I know I shouldn’t allow this to influence me.

  I pick up the copy of Wuthering Heights that Florence gave me and start to read Charlotte Brontë’s introduction to the novel, as instructed. Florence mentioned Yorkshire as if it was significant. Lucy was from Yorkshire too, she said – but why did that matter? The girl playing Cathy in a school show came from the same place as the author of the original book. So what?

  Charlotte’s introduction starts with a defence of her sister’s novel. I read the opening.

  I have just read over ‘Wuthering Heights,’ and, for the first time, have obtained a clear glimpse of what are termed (and, perhaps, really are) its faults; have gained a definite notion of how it appears to other people – to strangers who knew nothing of the author; who are unacquainted with the locality where the scenes of the story are laid; to whom the inhabitants, the customs, the natural characteristics of the outlying hills and hamlets in the West Riding of Yorkshire are things alien and unfamiliar.

  To all such ‘Wuthering Heights’ must appear a rude and strange production. The wild moors of the North of England can for them have no interest: the language, the manners, the very dwellings and household customs of the scattered inhabitants of those districts must be to such readers in a great measure unintelligible, and – where intelligible – repulsive. Men and women who, perhaps, naturally very calm, and with feelings moderate in degree, and little marked in kind, have been trained from their cradle to observe the utmost evenness of manner and guardedness of language, will hardly know what to make of the rough, strong utterance, the harshly manifested passions, the unbridled aversions, and headlong partialities of unlettered moorland hinds and rugged moorland squires, who have grown up untaught and unchecked, except by Mentors as harsh as themselves.

  I can’t help smiling. Charlotte seems to be saying, ‘You try living where I live and then come and tell me people are much nicer and better behaved than Hindley Earnshaw and Heathcliff.’ Why, though, would Florence Liddon stress that Lucy Ross was from Yorkshire too? Was she trying to hint that Lucy was savage in some way – as feral as a character from Emily Brontë’s novel? Did Lucy play off Cameron Lee and Giorgio Frasco against one another, like Cathy Earnshaw messed with the heads of Edgar Linton and Heathcliff?

  I can’t think of any intention Florence might have had apart from to convey the message that people from Yorkshire are bad. Dangerous. And I can’t see why she’d do that if it was a purely random opinion of hers, unrelated to the notes and book she was pressing into my hands as she spoke. She surely had to be implying that someone from Yorkshire had murdered Lucy Ross.

  Wait …

  Let’s be logical about this. Emily Brontë, Charlotte Brontë and all the inhabitants of Yorkshire they might have been acquainted with … none of those people could have murdered Lucy Ross. They’re all long dead.

  Heathcliff, Hindley, Cathy, Only-Joseph … none of those fictional characters could have killed Lucy either; they don’t exist apart from on paper.

  Lucy Ross was the victim, and therefore not the culprit. If what Florence was trying to tell me was that Yorkshire people are harsh and potentially lethal, how could the ‘too’ be significant? Lucy was from Yorkshire too. Was the implication that she’d somehow brought about her own murder with some character flaw resulting from her Yorkshire origins?

  Someone else must have a Yorkshire connection, I conclude. That’s the only thing that makes sense. ‘Lucy was from Yorkshire too’ cannot have meant ‘as well as Emily and Charlotte Brontë’. It must have meant ‘as well as her murderer.’

  And the man missed—

  I run through a theory in my head: Lucy Ross used to live in Yorkshire. So did The
Man, a man, whoever he was. When she left, he missed her. So he followed her to Hampshire and to The Morrow and … No, that’s ridiculous. Utterly ludicrous.

  I pick up my phone again. Time to do a bit more internet searching.

  Three days later, I’m back in Nina Adebayo’s office. ‘I think I might know who killed Lucy Ross,’ I tell her.

  She smiles sadly. ‘I knew it. I knew Nelly had got to you.’

  ‘Florence Liddon told me nothing,’ I lie. I don’t want to get her expelled. ‘But I’ve done some independent research and—’

  ‘Nelly’s worried I’ll punish her, but she needn’t be,’ Dr Adebayo talks over me. ‘I won’t. I never would. I only said that for her sake, hoping it would shake her out of her obsession. I should have known it wouldn’t work. The thing is, Mrs Woolford, if there’s no proof then there’s only slander. Do you see what I’m saying?’

  ‘You know, don’t you?’ I say coldly. ‘You’ve done the same legwork I’ve done, and you know the truth as well as I do. As well as Florence does.’

  ‘I happen to believe there’s no such thing as knowledge without proof.’

  ‘You could think up any number of reasons to fire Jenny Pethers,’ I tell her. ‘Instead, you allow a murderer to continue to work at your school. Why?’

  ‘Mrs Woolford, I’m not going to engage in slanderous speculation with you. I will only say that unless and until someone has been found guilty of a crime, it’s quite wrong to penalise them as if they had committed said crime. If I were to terminate Jenny Pethers’ employment here, do you really think word wouldn’t spread about my secret and officially unjustifiable reason for doing so? Jenny’s an excellent administrator. I can’t fault her professional behaviour.’

  ‘Lucy Ross’s family should know the truth. Lucy deserves justice.’

  Dr Adebayo’s patient smile remains in place. ‘Mrs Woolford, as a scientist, you must know as well as I do that you can arrange an assortment of random facts in a particular order and create a false pattern – something that looks as if it must be the truth, but that nevertheless is not. If you think about what you believe you now know – really think about it, I mean – you’ll realise that in spite of the pattern you think you’ve recognised, it’s equally likely that, for example, Garry Phelps pushed Lucy Ross to her death.’

  ‘Who’s Garry Phelps?’

  ‘A perfectly delightful physics teacher here. Think of everything you’ve found out, and tell me which item on your list makes it impossible for Lucy Ross’s killer to be Garry Phelps.’

  ‘Did he have a reason to want Lucy dead?’

  ‘Not as far as I know, but he might have. How should I know? And the trouble is that when one accuses a person of murder with zero evidence, that person often says, “No, it wasn’t me. I’m innocent.” Then, perhaps, the parents of the murder victim pursue some sort of vigilante justice outcome … and we have more violence. More tragedy.’

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  ‘What would you do in my position?’ Dr Adebayo asks. ‘Do you think Lucy Ross’s mother would feel better or worse if she found out what you and Florence Liddon believe was the catalyst for her daughter’s murder, if there’s no way to ensure the guilty party is punished?’

  ‘But what did she mean by that?’ asks Rich, rubbing his eyes. I’ve worn him out. ‘You’re telling the story the wrong way round.’

  ‘Because I want to prove to you that it’s obvious that Nina Adebayo – the head teacher of the school – knows what I know, knows that Jenny Pethers killed Lucy Ross. Everything she said to me in her office makes it clear that she thinks exactly what I think. So when I tell you why I think it – or rather, how I know it – please bear in mind that it isn’t just me that’s dreamed this up. There are at least three of us with the same opinion.’

  ‘All right. Go on. I still can’t see any reason why Jenny Pethers should want to murder the girl playing Cathy in the show. It’s not as if her Max would get the part once Lucy’s out of the way.’

  ‘Lucy’s murder had nothing to do with Heathcliff, Cathy, the musical, casting – it was nothing like that. Although it did have something to do with Only-Joseph, even if only thematically.’

  ‘Thematically?’ Rich winces. ‘What are you talking about?’ He’s read Florence’s notes, so he doesn’t need to ask about Only-Joseph.

  ‘When Ariella Huxley said that Max Pethers’ costume didn’t matter because he was only Joseph, she was revealing something we all know: that status matters. It really matters. Joseph’s a minor character, and therefore low status. Heathcliff and Cathy: main characters, high status. Jenny Pethers had a class-and-status-themed chip on her shoulder. She resented the rich, privileged kids, and it showed. She was highly sensitive to any hint that servants mattered less, because her husband was the school’s gardener, because he used to be a driver for a posh barrister with a double-barrelled surname—’

  ‘I know all this from the notes, but so what? Are you saying Jenny Pethers killed Lucy Ross because she had a high-status part and Max only had a servant’s part?’

  ‘No. If you just listen, I’ll explain. When I realised that Florrie Liddon had hinted to me that Lucy Ross’s murderer came from Yorkshire, I investigated my favourite suspect first: Max Pethers. It took me about three seconds to find out that the Pethers family had lived in Yorkshire for many years. That’s when I realised what Florence had meant by “And the man missed”.’

  ‘What? What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘Never mind. That’s not important. What’s important is that the man mist-er Pethers, Max’s dad and Jenny’s husband, used to be a driver for – the barrister, Simon Appleton-Drake – has practised law in Yorkshire for more than twenty years. Therefore … the Pethers family lived in Yorkshire for all the years Mr Pethers was Appleton-Drake’s driver. I did a bit of digging around and happened to stumble across Jenny Pethers’s maiden name. I found a photograph of her and her husband at a do with Appleton-Drake – this was before they were married. Underneath the photo was a caption with their names: Simon Appleton-Drake, Nigel Pethers and Jenny Snape. Her maiden name is Snape, Rich.’

  ‘So?’ He sighs. ‘Who cares what her maiden name was?’

  ‘The surname Snape doesn’t ring any bells for you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How about the Bob Snape Technique, from Florence’s notes?’

  ‘What—’ Rich falls silent. Blinks a few times.

  ‘Bob Snape: the extremely boring workman who did work for Lucy Ross’s family. The one Lucy’s mum based a theory around, about how to deal kindly with awful people one wanted to avoid.’

  ‘Are you saying …?’

  ‘He’s Jenny Pethers’ dad. Yeah.’

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Yep. Max Pethers had to sit in that conflict-resolution session at school with all his fellow pupils and hear a smug, privileged psychologist cheerfully telling everyone that his no doubt beloved grandfather was the dullest man in the world – so unpalatable as company that a special technique had to be devised to limit contact with him. Max must have gone home very upset that night. Florence says in her notes that the session had to be cut short because Max felt sick. Imagine how Jenny Pethers felt when she heard the story. I know exactly what she’ll have thought.’

  Rich nods. ‘That Lucy Ross’s mother valued Bob Snape so little that she’d happily sit and slag him off as “lovely but unbearable” in front of dozens of people without for a second considering that he was, in fact, a real person. With feelings that might be hurt if news ever reached him that the Bob Snape Technique was now a thing in therapy circles. With relatives whose feelings might be hurt.’

  ‘Precisely. And Jenny Pethers, with her social-class chip on both shoulders, will have known in her heart of hearts that the reason Lucy Ross’s mother didn’t think of Bob Snape in this way – as a fellow human being with feelings – was because Bob was just some guy who did work for her, just a member of the servant class. Just like Only-
Joseph, Jenny’s son, whose costume didn’t matter.’

  ‘So … Jenny Pethers pushed Lucy Ross out of the window—’

  ‘To punish Lucy’s mother, yes. Nothing to do with Lucy herself. Jenny wanted Lucy’s mother to suffer. “You don’t give a shit about my closest and dearest family? Then guess what: I don’t give a shit about yours.”’

  ‘Sonia, this is – Fuck!’

  ‘What Dr Adebayo was trying to say to me was: do you really think Lucy Ross’s mother will benefit from finding this out – that something she said while she was trying to resolve conflict at The Morrow caused someone to murder her daughter? She’d blame and torment herself for ever. The fact is, what she did was and is terrible. It should have occurred to her that to broadcast her theory as if Bob Snape didn’t matter was quite unfair. And fucking ironic too, given that the whole point of the technique, originally, was not to hurt Bob Snape.’

  ‘She would,’ Rich agrees. ‘She’d blame herself. I sure as hell would if I were her. But at the same time, Lucy Ross was murdered. And Jenny Pethers, thus far, has got away with it.’

  ‘I suppose it might have been Max Pethers who did it,’ I say. ‘I don’t think so, though. I think it was Jenny. Florence’s description of her inability to conceal her resentment towards anyone privileged … And I think Max might have seen his mother do it.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ asks Rich. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘We do the unthinkable.’

  ‘You mean … nothing?’

  ‘What? Oh, no, I’ve already laid all this out for the police in great detail. I did that straight away: contacted the detective who investigated Lucy’s death at the time. I even told him my theory about why Lucy’s first words, when she turned back into the room just before she fell, were “I’m sorry.” I think she saw a member of staff coming angrily towards her – Jenny Pethers – and assumed she was going to get a bollocking for leaning out of the window.’