by Anne Morice
‘Message for you from the boss,’ he told me. ‘Any time you got nothing better to do, he’d like you to give him a buzz at the office. You’ll find it in the book under Pettigrew and Barrett. Ask for Mr Gerald. Right?’
‘Oh sure. What for, though?’
‘No idea, lady. My instructions were to pass on the message.’
‘Well, thanks.’
‘And what’s that all about, do you suppose?’ I asked Robin when Pete had marched off again.
‘Perhaps he wants to hand over your ring in person. That was a nice thought on Maudie’s part, wasn’t it?’
‘It was her absolute favourite lucky ring,’ I said, toying with the idea that this might be the moment for some of the unshed tears to start rolling, but Robin was off on a new tack.
‘Listen, Tess, will you be all right on your own now? I’ve rather outstayed my allotted span as it is.’
‘Must you go back to Dedley, then?’
‘Yes, I ought to check up on any fresh developments and so forth. My voices tell me that all is not quite such plain sailing there as I could wish. Still, I may be wrong, and if so I’ll only need to look in for ten minutes. See you at Toby’s this evening. I might even manage to spend the night there, if he can have me.’
‘You bet he can. Oh, that would be lovely.’
‘Goodbye and soyez de bon courage, then,’ he said, using a valediction he had picked up on a visit to Paris the previous year and clung to with great affection ever since.
‘I’m afraid I’ll need to,’ I said, though a good deal more lightheartedly than if I had known how true it was.
VII
(i)
Left on my own and uncertain what to do next, I dithered outside the drawing-room for a while, but the sound of acrimonious voices did not tempt me to go in and I sidestepped to the dining-room.
As I had half expected, nothing had been cleared away and there were dirty plates and glasses littered all over the room. I stacked some of them up and went to the pantry to fetch a tray. It was while hunting around for one that I heard a sound from the kitchen and, moving to one side, saw Albert entering by the back door. He was wearing a rakish green hat, which I surmised had once been Dickie’s property, and was carrying an elaborate arrangement of roses and carnations which, after a fractional hesitation, he bundled furtively inside the refrigerator of all places. He looked ghastly and, concluding that grief had unhinged him, I ambled forward saying,
‘Oh, hallo, Albert. I’m just having a whip round the dining-room. Hope your union won’t raise hell,’ in the hope of cheering him up with a little light banter.
The response was not enthusiastic. He stared at me, glassy-eyed and blotchy-faced and he swayed a little on his feet as he spoke.
‘There is no need to trouble yourself, madam. I shall attend to everything. I had Miss Betsy’s permission to go out for a while.’
‘That’s okay, I was only trying to help.’
Unbending in more senses than one, he flopped into a chair and said in less frigid tones.
‘I wished to go down and say my farewell when everyone had gone. I had some little flowers.’
‘You mean the ones you just dumped in the refrigerator?’
He got up again and, moving very slowly, placed the hat in a cupboard, took out his white jacket and put it on.
‘Yes, they are in the refrigerator. Miss Betsy has told me that it was only for the family to send flowers but that in my case it would be permitted also, because I have been here so many years and Miss Stirling looked upon me as part of the family. I chose these flowers specially. They were her favourites.’
‘But you didn’t put them on her grave?’
‘When I came there it was not as I had expected. So many flowers. Dozens must have sent them. I saw that my offering would be lost among all these, so I say to myself: “Well, I shall wait. In two days, four maybe, these others will be dead and there will be room for mine.”’
‘So you’ve put them in cold storage until your moment comes? How very practical!’ I said admiringly. ‘Will it work?’
‘I can try,’ he replied. ‘We used to do this sometimes with Miss Stirling’s orchids when she had too many.’
Betsy came into the kitchen looking fairly distraught, though not, as it happened, in quite such straits as Albert who took another turn for the worse at the sight of her and, in attempting to rise, reeled up against the stove. She was concentrating on me, however, and did not appear to notice.
‘Oh, you’re still here, Tessa? I thought I heard your voice. Thank goodness for that! Come along and give me a hand in the dining-room, will you? And be a dear boy, Albert, and take some tea to the drawing-room. Nothing to eat, you know; just some cups on a tray.’
‘Do I congratulate you?’ I asked, when we had moved out of earshot. ‘I suppose not, in the circumstances?’
‘Oh, don’t joke about it, my lamb. You must know it was the very last thing I wanted for Margot, it’s been the most wretched shock for her. I’ve told her over and over again that I mean to share everything with her, but in our hearts we both know that’s not the point.’
‘I should think it might be some compensation.’
‘No, no, no. It’s not the money she minds about, you must understand that. It’s the hurtfulness of it. Like a slap in the face. I know I should feel just the same, if it were me. Do you think these sandwiches are worth keeping?’
‘Perhaps not. Didn’t Maud give you an inkling of what she meant to do?’
‘Never. Not for one instant. My goodness, if only she had! Don’t you realise I’d have done everything in my power to prevent her?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I really believe you would.’
‘I mean, whoever would have dreamt of such a thing? Mamma adored Margot. Really, one begins to wonder if she’s right, and Gerald has made some hideous mistake.’
‘He didn’t strike me as a man who would make mistakes on that scale.’
‘No,’ she admitted with a sigh. ‘I don’t think so either; and he’s not crooked. That I refuse to believe. Oh well, we shall get over it and put everything to rights in the end, I daresay. There’s still quite a lot of wine left in this bottle, my duck. Perhaps Albert can finish it up.’
‘I think he might have had quite a drop already,’ I told her.
‘Oh, my beloved child, what dreadful things you say sometimes. Poor Albert! He has such a lot to bear at the moment.’
‘Talking of that, Betsy, has our mother-to-be surfaced yet?’
‘No, but Piers went up to see her about ten minutes ago. He said she was still sound asleep. At least, I think that’s what he said. To tell you the truth, I was too worried about Margot to pay proper attention. But you’re quite right, my dearie, we really are neglecting her. I expect kind old Dr Macintosh gave her a good, strong sedative, but it must wear off some time. Let’s go and see if she’s ready for a cup of tea, shall we?’
Evidently she was right about the sedative wearing off because the bedroom was empty, but the first thing that struck me was that the wardrobe door was swinging open again.
‘You ought to get something done about that,’ I said, once more slamming it shut. ‘Probably something wrong with the catch.’
She came up behind me, peering over my shoulder, then said sharply: ‘What have you done with the key?’
‘Nothing. It’s not here.’
‘Oh no, of course not. What a fool I am! I put it in my pocket. But, Tessa, it can’t have come open by itself. I locked it and took the key out. I’m absolutely certain I did.’ Her voice had grown harsh and scared, as though all the dithering sweetness had suddenly been shocked out of her and, rather as though I were some tiresome, inquisitive child, she pushed me aside in order to examine the keyhole for herself.
‘It’s been forced,’ she said in a voice of doom, and I jumped back to avoid a head on collision with the door, as she jerked it wide open and thrust her head inside.
‘What on earth
for, Betsy? What do you keep in there?’
‘Oh, nothing much, my pet,’ she replied with some return to her normal manner, and sounding puzzled now, rather than angry. ‘Most of my belongings are over at the Stables.’
‘Then why should anyone?’
‘Never mind, never mind. It has no importance at all, none whatever. The important thing is Sophie. Where can she have got to?’
‘Bathroom, probably.’
‘Oh dear, do you think so? Perhaps we ought to go and see. She might have fainted.’
‘I’ll go, Betsy. You have another look through your wardrobe and make sure nothing is missing.’
Sophie was not in either of the bathrooms, although the electric fire over the bath was switched on in one of them, and when I returned to Betsy’s room I found that she had vanished as well. I was about to shrug the whole thing off as another of life’s minor mysteries when she came staggering in through the French windows from the balcony.
‘Oh God! My God! Go and ring up Dr Macintosh. Now, at once. Go on, Tessa. For God’s sake, do as I say. Something terrible has happened. There’s been a dreadful accident.’
‘Sophie?’
‘I think so. She must have leaned over the rail and it collapsed. It’s all broken anyway, and there’s someone lying down there on the terrace. I’m terribly afraid it’s her. Oh God, Tessa, could you come with me, after all, and make sure? I don’t think I can face it on my own. We could ring the doctor when we know for certain and I have a ghastly feeling that a few more minutes isn’t going to make much difference.’
‘Come on, then,’ I said, running out of the room and downstairs to the morning-room. ‘It may not be as bad as you think. Perhaps she’s just concussed or something.’
It was far worse than that, however, as I could tell even before I had stepped out on to the terrace. She lay there lifeless as a bundle of washing, one limp arm stretched out and her head lolling. She was still partly covered by the old Jaeger dressing-gown but nothing could disguise the fact that her neck was broken and, for one confused moment, I imagined there was also a dead animal lying beside her. Then I saw that it was Margot’s hat, which had been dropped on the terrace.
Automatically I looked up at the balcony and saw that Betsy had been right. The middle section sagged forward; one of the posts which supported it had come clean away from its moorings and was only saved from falling by the fact that it was cushioned in a tangle of broken and twisted vines.
I turned to Betsy, intending to warn her not to stand directly underneath it, and saw that she had picked up the hat and was in the act of throwing it through the morning-room window. I had a feeling that she ought not to do this, but before I could speak she grabbed my arm, grey in the face and trembling from head to foot.
‘Dr Macintosh,’ she whimpered, pushing me towards the house. ‘Don’t worry about me, go and get him. Be quick, Tessa, I beg you.’
I did as she asked despite a strong conviction, as I dialled the number, that it should have been the police I was calling.
(ii)
Another half hour went by before the police came, mainly because Betsy insisted on waiting for Dr Macintosh’s verdict before making another move. I think she half believed that he had only to pour some magic potion down Sophie’s throat to bring her back to life, but when he arrived he carried out only the most cursory examination, before turning indoors again, as I had guessed he would, to telephone the local C.I.D.
In the meantime I had prevailed upon Betsy to call Piers out and break the news to him and he stood with us on the terrace, his head turned away from Sophie and raised up slightly, as though posing for a photograph. His expression on first seeing his wife’s body had been compassionate and puzzled rather than grief stricken and he had not uttered a word, or, even more remarkable in a member of that family, shed a tear.
‘Which of you found her?’ Dr Macintosh demanded, emerging from the house again.
‘It was me really,’ Betsy said. ‘Tessa had gone to look for her in the bathroom, but it occurred to me that she might have gone out to the balcony for some fresh air. That’s how I saw the railing had collapsed. So naturally I looked over, as far as I dared you know, and I saw something . . . someone . . . lying there. I guessed at once what had happened. I recognised the dressing-gown, you see.’
‘Ah yes, yours, isn’t it? Thought I’d seen it somewhere before.’
‘She put it on,’ Piers explained in a remote voice, ‘when I went up to see her. After you’d given her the sedative. She said she felt shivery, so I gave her Betsy’s dressing-gown.
‘Where was it?’ I asked, sidetracked by another memory.
‘Where was what?’ Piers enquired coldly.
‘The dressing-gown. On the bed, or hanging up in the wardrobe, or what?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea, my darling. My mind’s a complete blank on the subject. Is it important to you?’
‘No of course it isn’t,’ Betsy said, gripping my wrist and digging her finger nails into the skin. ‘Tessa’s upset, just like the rest of us. She doesn’t know what she’s saying, poor duck.’
‘Well, you’d both better run along indoors now,’ said Dr Macintosh, who had been eyeing us all with rather lively curiosity for the past few minutes. ‘Piers and I will stop here until the police come. Where’s your mother, by the way, Piers?’
‘Indoors. Grandpapa and Digby are with her. They’re trying to persuade her to go back to London, but I don’t think she wants to.’
‘She’s quite right,’ we heard Dr Macintosh say. ‘There can be no question of anyone leaving until the police say so.’
‘Why do you suppose that is?’ Betsy asked me in a troubled voice.
‘Oh, it’s quite normal,’ I assured her. ‘They have to establish cause of death and so on; and naturally that involves talking to everyone who might know something about it.’
‘But it was an accident. Anybody could see that. It was just very, very unfortunate that no one had thought to warn Sophie about those railings being so rotten. Margot couldn’t possibly know anything and I shall tell them so.’
I could see she meant it, too, and I wondered for the very first time whether her protectiveness towards the family and her mania for covering up unpleasantness went slightly beyond the bounds of sanity.
‘The point is,’ I said, ‘and it’s something that neither you nor anyone else can prevent, that the police will give Margot a much rougher time if she scoots back to London than if she waits here and answers their questions like a good girl.’
She may have taken it in, or Margot may have seen it for herself, for she was still on the premises when the police bundled in a few minutes later.
Their team was led by Chief Inspector Mackenzie, a stocky, thick-set man, with piggy eyes and a chip on the shoulder which would have been visible from miles away. Having despatched his men and equipment to various parts of the house and grounds, he ordered Betsy to wait in the hall and then herded the rest of us, including Albert, into the drawing-room. Betsy was required to stay behind to show him another room on the ground floor where he could interview each of us in turn.
Calculating that I could easily be placed at the bottom of this list, I asked leave to make a telephone call. He may have imagined that I had lost my head and wished to call my solicitor for he positively glinted with pleasure in telling me that it would be out of the question, since the line must be kept open for police business. Never squeamish about pulling whatever strings came to hand in this tough old world, I murmured that I had merely wished to let my husband know that I should be late home, laying faint stress on his name and rank. On the whole this proved more effective and far less bother than a telephone call because, notwithstanding a glance of purest hatred, I was the first to be summoned to the dining-room when he had set up shop.
Before this happened we were rejoined by Betsy, accompanied by a young, red-faced constable, who closed the door and planted himself in front of it, looking supre
mely self-conscious.
‘What’s that man doing here?’ Margot demanded in haughty tones.
‘Hush, my pet, he’s only obeying orders. But I expect you’re allowed to sit down, aren’t you, officer? Albert, be a dear and bring up a chair for him, will you?’
‘But I want to know what he’s doing here,’ Margot insisted. ‘We don’t have to be guarded, do we?’
‘He is here to prevent our cooking up a story together before we are questioned,’ I explained. ‘And also to stop us comparing notes afterwards.’
‘How dare you talk such nonsense?’ Margot stormed, rounding on me in a fury. ‘Cooking up a story, indeed! I never heard anything so vulgar in my life. And if you’re hinting what I think you are you ought to be ashamed of yourself. I should have thought we had enough to suffer without disgusting innuendos of that kind.’
She was greeted by the usual cries of ‘Now, Mother!’, ‘Hush, Margot!’ from all points of the compass, but she refused to be pacified.
‘No, I will not be quiet. I consider that Tessa has made a dangerous and malicious statement and I insist that she withdraws it and apologises. I suppose the police have to go blundering around, upsetting everyone, but each of us here knows perfectly well it was an accident. To suggest that anyone meant to harm poor little Sophie is utterly monstrous.’
There I agreed with her, but before I could say so the constable intervened. He had been studiously gazing at his watch during Margot’s outburst, the better no doubt to drink in every word, and he now looked over and nodded his head at me:
‘The chief inspector is ready to see you now, madam, if you would just step into the dining-room.’
‘Now remember what I’ve said, Tessa,’ Margot warned me. ‘Just say it was an accident and leave it at that. I hope we can count on your loyalty to that extent.’
She was clearly oblivious of the fact that in issuing these instructions she had fallen slap into the pitfall whose existence she had so vehemently denied but, considering it imprudent to point this out, I went on my way to the dining-room.