by Oster, C. G.
Increasingly, Dory decided that she must plant a winter garden at the mention of all the hearty stews and soups. Success with crops had never been her gift, but she felt she had more knowledge now.
In the back of her mind, though, she felt a little dismayed that Edith and the circumstances around her demise were not mentioned. It felt a little as though they all pretended it hadn’t happened. Had there been any news? What had the autopsy found? Surely there had been one. Had there been any news at all?
A resounding applause filled the hall as Mrs. Rutledge finished, the woman looking pleased with herself as she neatly tucked her skirt to her as she sat down. Expectant eyes turned back to Hesta who had taken change of the meeting again.
“Now we have decided to take a minute’s silence for Edith, Mrs. Wallis, Our dear friend,” she said, briefly turning her gaze on Mrs. Rutledge. “She passed away unexpectantly.”
Most clasped their hands in their laps and closed their eyes while the silence pervaded through the room. It seemed to go on for ages. The noise from outside grew louder and Dory noticed the truck that drove by not far away and one incensed child screaming at another down the street.
“She will be missed,” Hesta finally said. “Now, we heartily wish to thank Mrs. Rutledge for coming all this way. I can tell you that she has the most magnificent garden.”
The woman’s cheeks grew pink at the compliment and she looked around briefly, embarrassed by the attention.
“And what’s more, she has agreed to provide a basket of her produce for the harvest festival. Speaking of which, we will shortly start selling raffle tickets for the generous gifts that our members have pledged. Any further pledges are, of course, welcome. The harvest festival is one of our larger events between now and Christmas.”
“Next time, we will be discussing crochet—an ancient and fine art. Mrs. Turner, one of the ladies from the village, who is a member, but usually doesn’t attend meetings, has agreed to go over the finer details, and some of the history, so it should be a fascinating talk. One not to be missed. With this, unless there is something anyone needs to say, we will close the meeting.”
Hesta waited expectantly, but no one spoke. An urge itched inside Dory to ask about Edith, but she knew it wouldn’t be welcome. It wasn’t something one discussed as part of a meeting.
“Alright then, until next time. Ladies. This meeting is closed, but please stay for a cup of tea.” She checked her wristwatch. “We have twenty minutes before we must vacate, so excellent time keeping, Mrs. Rutledge.”
There was a moment of silence before people started standing. Some left right away as if they had pressing responsibilities to get back to. Children at home probably made getting away a treat. In the future, it might be difficult for Dory to get away. It wasn’t as if she had family here that could help with childcare. It could even be that she had to forgo these meetings for a while. For now, though, she had no reason to rush off, so she walked to the tea table with some of the others.
Penelope seemed to rush out the door.
“Off to take care of poor Henry, I’m guessing,” Sue said tartly. “It’s like she’s just stepped into Edith’s place.”
“He does need some help. The man would starve if no one cooked for him,” Mary said.
“It’s just... so sudden.”
“We all know Penelope has been looking for a man to take care of for years. Now she found some empty shoes to step into. Not sure if Henry’s having any choice about it.”
“He’s a grown man. He can tell her to go home if he wants to.”
“Has anyone heard anything from Constable Worthing?” Dory asked and the two girls turned to her but didn’t say anything.
“Well, I know there’s a rumor that he’s been stepping out with Isobel Manners, but I’m guessing that’s not what you’re asking about.”
“The examination of her must have happened by now, surely there must be some news?” Dory elaborated.
“What kind of news are you expecting?” Mary asked.
“About what happened to her.”
“Well, clearly Penelope killed her so could steal Henry,” Sue stated and both of the girls laughed.
Honestly, Dory didn’t think it was funny. An unhinged mind tended to have little reservations of making the things they wanted happen. Surely Penelope wasn’t unhinged. More likely, she was a woman who saw a need and stepped in to help. Probably just a soft heart, but people hid things. Dory knew that. The most rational and lovely person could hide a sinister motive.
“It’s just that so much was unexplained,” Dory continued. “She hit her head, but where? There was no sign of it.”
The girls stared at her again. “We haven’t heard anything,” Mary said. “Then again, if Worthing was to talk to any of us about it, it would be Hesta or Marjorie. They might know more. But honestly, who would hurt Edith? We were joking about Penelope—she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless they were going for her baking, then God help them.”
It was clear that Mary and Sue didn’t see anything untoward in Edith’s death, or rather, they probably couldn’t perceive of anything sinister happening. For most people, it was just too outlandish, and that was perhaps as it should be.
Maybe her experiences had made her jaded, Dory wondered, but she saw those little inconsistencies and she couldn’t reconcile them. Although she should, because this was none of her business. Constable Worthing was a clever man; no one had said he was particularly out of his depth here. Then again, had something like this ever happened in Beaconsfield?
Hopefully the examination of the body concluded that it was just an accident. Further examination around the yard could have discovered a location where she’d hit her head. Hopefully, the woman hadn't suffered terribly.
Across the hall, Hesta and Marjorie were talking to Mrs. Rutledge. However, noise outside suggested the boy scouts were starting to arrive, so there wasn’t any opportunity to discuss things further.
Quickly, Dory finished her cup of tea and placed the cup in the wooden case that Sophie would take home to wash and store. The woman smiled at her. “You did a good job with the jam making,” Sophie said. “Do you know much about mushrooms?”
“Not a wit, I’m afraid.”
“That’s alright. One can learn, provided one is willing. Would you be interested in foraging with us? The mushrooms are starting to come in.”
“Of course.”
“Good. I have to say, I am looking forward to cooler weather. I, for one, am glad we’re having some cold days, but I do struggle with the heat. I know summer is a blessing, but I like it a bit colder.”
She would hate St. Tropez, then, Dory thought. Lady Pettifer entered Dory’s mind, and she wondered how they were getting on down there. Had Lavinia gone with her this year? Maybe even her son Andrew.
In the bitter cold days of winter during the war, St. Tropez had seemed a million miles away, but hopefully it wouldn’t be a difficult winter season in their new house. It was certainly a far cry from wintering in a dusty and damp canal boat.
“Mrs. Brown,” Dory called as Hesta walked past toward the door.
“Mrs. Ridley. It was good you could come today. I hope you found the talk useful.”
“It was very inspiring. I will take a lot of what I’ve heard today and put it into use.”
The boy scouts started filing into the hall, filling it with noise and laughter, and Dory moved outside with Hesta. “Have you heard anything from Constable Worthing about Edith?”
“Heard in what regard?”
“Did the examination of her and the house conclude anything?”
Hesta considered her for a moment. “I believe their enquiries are still ongoing, so we will leave them to do what they must. It was nice to see you at the funeral. You didn’t know her well, but it was considerate of you to pay your respects. Edith was a central part of our community here. We miss her greatly. I’m sorry, I must run. We will see you at the next meeting, I hope.”
&nb
sp; “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Excellent, see you then,” Hesta said and walked off with purpose.
As always, Dory felt a little as though she’d been turned about by a tornado when she talked to Hesta Brown. The woman had so much going on at any one time, and one couldn’t help but to feel it. Where was she going, Dory wondered. However, the answer was that nothing conclusive had been heard. Surely it couldn’t take that long. Did that mean the examination was inconclusive? Or were they simply not saying? That was common practice—when they believed a crime was involved.
Pinching her lips together with her fingers, Dory wondered. Did this mean there was a crime? Had Edith been murdered? Ill ease crept up her back. This wouldn’t be good. The community could be torn apart with something like this. And poor Edith.
Chapter 10
DORY’S ILL EASE LASTED and it didn’t even relent when Michael came home. Sausages and mash were what she’d prepared. It didn’t take terribly long, although she still struggled with making the gravy. It was too salty again, so she had to warn him to use it sparingly. Although she did point out how wonderful and fresh the beans were, straight from Mr. Spring’s garden, one of the elderly men in the village who sold produce from his carefully managed garden. Really, they should have him in to speak about gardening one day, because no one knew more about the climate and soil in Beaconsfield. Perhaps she would suggest it.
Throughout supper, Dory debated about whether to tell Michael that she suspected Edith Wallis had actually been murdered, but he seemed very content to just eat his supper.
Dory smiled when he looked up. “We talked at great length about winter crops today,” she said. “There’s quite a bit you can plant. I thought I would take a bit of the garden and prepare a winter bed.”
“Excellent idea,” he replied.
“Michael?” she started, unable to help herself. “What happens if there is a murder somewhere and the local police force isn’t experienced enough to investigate it?”
He looked up at her for a moment. “It is up to the local police force to investigate. They can ask for assistance, if they wish, but it’s up to them to do so.”
Carefully, Dory considered her words. “Which is what happened with Nora Sands at Wallisford Hall,” she said and Michael confirmed with a nod.
“And if they don’t draw in someone more experienced? So one is stuck with the decisions that the local police force makes about a case?”
“There is a standards authority that one can address concerns to if one suspects grave mishandling, but such petitions should be done by family members. Mostly they deal with corruption cases, it must be said.”
“It’s just that Constable Worthing is a little on the inexperienced side. Lovely man, by all accounts, but I don’t think he’s investigated anything of a serious nature before.”
“There is a force behind him. He does have superiors that support and guide him, and they would be more experienced. It wouldn’t just be him, Dory.”
“Of course.” She smiled, but she also knew that the larger police force that supported him would likely be from Aylesbury, and that would be the same police force that had invited him to investigate at Wallisford Hall. It could also be that they had called in a specialist to investigate because it was Wallisford Hall. Edith may not be given the same consideration. “It seems we are to take a role in the upcoming harvest festival,” Dory said after a while. “Us at the WI, I mean.”
“That sounds nice. I do like autumn.”
“We are to forage for mushrooms too. There’s a whole science one must learn.”
“Some are poisonous.”
“My cooking is terrible enough without introducing poisons,” she said.
“Your cooking is a darn sight better than mine.”
Dory smiled at the compliment. It was nice that he was supportive. “At some point, I should perhaps take some lessons with Gladys. I do have an amazing cook in my family. I should take advantage of it.”
“If you drop me off at the station, you can take the car up there. It shouldn’t be a long drive.”
It still felt like his car and it was strange that it was hers too. “Yes, I suppose I could.” Actually, with the car, she had a much farther reach. There was no reason she couldn’t pop up to Wallisford Hall. Granted, it would be a lot more fun if Lady Pettifer was there. Now she felt guilty for the thought, because she should be just as excited to see her aunt.
“Maybe I’ll go sometime later in the week,” she said.
“It will probably do you good to go for a drive.”
It had been some time since she’d seen Aunt Gladys. Since the wedding, actually. Then she wondered if Vivian was there. She hadn’t seen him since before the war. Apparently he was at home, or so she had heard through Lady Pettifer, but he’d been in Australia for longer than anyone had anticipated. The long convalescence was so to not shock their families with the state of them, according to Vivian, or that was what he told his family, and Dory suspected it was true. Stories had started filtering back about exactly how cruel the Japanese had been.
Dory still struggled with how societies could turn so vicious to others, but then it happened on smaller scales as well. It was more concerting when it happened on larger scale, because it seemed to carry the well-meaning people along with it into cruelty. It was too much to fathom how that could happen. At times, lately, Dory felt as though she didn’t understand the world. How could something like this happen? Granted, she might not have met any Japanese people, but she’d met a few Germans in her time, and they had always seemed like cordial people. How could this happen?
Maybe the same way things happened to Edith, and similarly in the same way that people around here didn’t want to admit that something had happened to her.
After supper, they sat and listened to the wireless for a while. Bright news of reconstruction and the passing of the National Health Service Act in Scotland. The WI had petitioned for this extensively, that all citizens should receive any healthcare they needed, and it seemed to now be a reality in Scotland. Surely this meant it had to be adopted elsewhere too.
The presenter said that Scotland would be the experiment and that they would learn great lessons for the success of such an unprecedented social service. Opposing views felt this was entirely unnecessary and that the Poor Laws worked just fine without having to commit to such an extensive program. People who could afford to pay for their healthcare were perfectly happy to do so, particularly as it gave them the choice of where to get it. National health care would mean all that was unnecessarily prescribed.
The old system had had to be waylaid during the war. Care had to be given as people needed it, no matter who paid for it. It simply hadn’t been an option to turned injured people away because they only served the people who paid them. No, the country was to change, and not to go back to the Poor Laws where a lesser degree of care was given in charitable hospitals. They were, after all, building a new country, and not one where the poor counted for less. They’d served and died as much in the war as everyone else.
“It will be a good thing,” Michael finally said and rose. “I think I will retire.”
*
It seemed a quiet morning. Dory had surveyed the garden for a good spot to plant her winter crops. Winter crops needed the best location for sun. An interesting thing she’d learnt was that one could plant crops closer to a brick or stone wall, and the sun they absorbed radiated back would keep the plants warmer than they otherwise would be. It was also good to have a dense wall as part of a greenhouse to absorb heat from the sun during the day. It all sounded so very practical now that someone had pointed it out.
There was a good spot on the south side, but it would mean shifting one of the rose bushes that had come with the house. It still had its leaves, but it did occupy the best spot for winter growing. Hopefully Michael wouldn’t mind if she relocated it. It could be something they did together at the weekend. Michael had no experience whatsoever w
ith gardens, but he wasn’t opposed to assisting.
For now, however, she needed to go to the butcher to buy some chops for supper. The grocer, too, so she wandered off to the village square. A few of the faces were starting to become familiar, and obviously, she remembered Mr. Thompson, the butcher, and Mr. Duwart, the grocer. They knew her by name, as they did all their customers. Their businesses had to be thriving with the additional houses in the village.
Dory purchased her chops and then spotted Constable Worthing out the window. Placing the paper wrapped parcel in her hamper, she rushed out the door. “Constable!” she called and he stopped to survey who sought his attention.
“Mrs. Ridley,” he said when she reached him. “A pleasant day to be out shopping.”
“It is. These late days before autumn turns too cold are lovely. I just thought I would see how you are.” It was a lie and she didn’t feel good telling it. “I understand you are still investigating Edith Wallis’… demise.”
“That is correct,” he said awkwardly and looked around. "I suppose as a policeman’s wife, you are interested in such things.”
Who wouldn’t be interested in such things in their village, policeman’s wife or not? “Yes, I suppose. Has there been any news?”
He looked awkward and uncomfortable again. “Well, the medical examination is completed.”
“And?” she asked.
“We are making enquiries.”
“Constable Worthing, I am a policeman’s wife enough to know that that means it wasn’t an accident.”
The man looked pained as if he’d let something slip. He looked lost for words for a moment. “Yes, that is the understanding,” he said quietly. “The coroner’s office seems to think she was whacked on the head fairly hard.”
Dory could have told him that. “Not accidental.”
“No, and we have searched, but there is no evidence of what she was whacked with on the property, or in the field nearby. I searched. Whoever did it took the... weapon with them.”