Babbicam

by Rod Madocks

  Just got up to stretch and look out the window. Rain still building outside. A red-bellied woodpecker on the feeder real close to me. Water drops on the brindle-barred camo feathers on his back. He had so much more energy than the sparrows and chickadees. He hung there, wildly stabbing with his beak, really whacking at the fat. He stopped for a moment and glared at me with his savage pin eye in a disc of grey, then—Boom!—he whirred away leaving the feeder swinging even more wildly.

  Spool Three

  The evidence heaps up against him

  St Marychurch Town Hall, 1884

  —They all showed up to say something bad about me. The witnesses were ranked up on benches at the front. There was poor Katie, all whopper-eyed under a black bonnet. That’s what Devoners called being tearful. Lizzie was sitting next to her. She looked brazen-faced. The crowd was asking why she was not dressed in mourning for her mistress. There sat also the Necks, two bookends, wrapped in black crepe. I was pushed forward and the crowd rustled like dry leaves.

  “Lee, Lee, it’s John Lee!” they kept saying. All seemed to know who I was. They put me on the same bench as Katie and Lizzie, and Katie leaned forward as if to touch me, but PC Bastin stopped that. I stared around the crowded room in a bold way but inside I was shakin’.

  It had been all right at first, put into a cab early that Monday morning, my unbandaged hand cuffed to Bastin’s fat red wrist, the cab pony’s canvas tucker bobbing as we went up past Ellacombe then by Katie’s place. She was probably still asleep in that bed I would never lie in again. Past the Warberries, going up the hill, I sneaked a look back towards that water trough cut into the wall on Lower Warberry.

  Doctor Kaiser: I don’t follow.

  —The Warberries was a place where the rich folks lived. I hid something along there. Something involved in the murder I wished I’d never had. At the time it was all a confusion. All them faces staring at me as we went up Marychurch Road past Compton house, then the first crowds already waiting. They had got me in early to the Town Hall in case of trouble with the crowds. I struggled to keep pace with it all. My mind would not obey me, pictures of blood and fire kept coming to me.

  I got the idea that there had already been proceedings by the time I was taken into the court room. In the cells, I asked Sergeant Nott who would be there be to speak for me

  “No-one,” he answered. He said that I was under the coroner now. I could ask questions but not make statements. He said to best ask the coroner afore you do say anything. I was confused if this was a trial or no, it certainly felt like a trial. Coroner Hacker with his big black beard acted like a judge. He seemed to be in the middle of addressing the jury when I was pushed in. They looked already fed up with his prideful manner. He turned to me and gave me a long talk about how this was an enquiry into Miss Keyse’s death. I could ask questions, and if I did say something it could be used in evidence against me. He said it could turn out serious for me. He was right there.

  I nodded. What a to-do. This was the wustest trouble I’d ever been in and none to speak for me. I knew most of the jury by sight; none looked friendly. I kept thinking—how came I here? What a buffle-aided fool I was to be sitting here where others should be sitting.

  A fat little man with the beady gaze was sitting next the jury. He kept glaring at me and I asked Bastin who he was but he signed for me to shut up.

  The first witness was a dusty little clerk. Surveyor to the Council or board of something, I never caught it. He’d drawn a map of the Glen, set up on a big easel. He pointed out all the main rooms and features. Ah, the Glen, that place of passages and dark corners. I remembered it differently. No map could catch its mazy ways. The clerk went on a long while. A strange weariness came over me and I kept looking out the windows at the clouds and at the mewies skidding across the sky outside.

  The old fat fellow with parroty beak for a nose was called up next. He still kept eyeing me with a hard look.

  Doctor Kaiser: Who was he?

  —It turned out the old buzzard was George Whitehead, a gentleman, “brother to the deceased” is what he called himself. The old scrutt was kin, a half-brother really. He’d never bothered with Miss Keyse ’til this happened and I’d not seen him before. Still he was blood to her and he would want blood in return.

  He said that he knew the house well, that he had examined it and no house breaking tool had been used on it. He was certain that no one could have got into the house unless they had been admitted. Again he turned and gave me an evil look. Well, I thought, no-one got in unless admitted. That left quite a few to be accounted for.

  They whirled Lizzie up next. It seemed like Sergeant Nott was really in charge, pointing to the witnesses where they should go. Lizzie took the stand. She did not look at me once. She was handsome standing there though, her hair shiny under her bonnet. I marked her neat little earlobes that I so liked to bite and suck on. She walked with a careful wide-set gait and there was something in the way she stood that showed her as being with child. I was sure that all could see this also although she was early on. She took the oath, speaking in a low voice. Hacker asked her when she last saw the Missis. She said she saw her for the last time in the morning before the murder. That was at morning prayers, in the dining room. She said she had not felt well that day and slept ’til 11 o clock of the night when Eliza looked in on her. Then she slept again until three or four when she awoke smelling smoke. She woke the Necks and tried to throw water on the upstairs fire in Miss Keyse’s bedroom and the Honeysuckle Room. She spoke of how all was thick smoke and she saw me helping fetch water.

  The coroner pressed her as to whether she had seen blood on me. The crowd gave a rustle at the question. She denied seeing any blood on my person. It looked good then for a moment. She said that the back nursery door to the water casket was open and she did not know who opened it. Hanbury the Foreman then put his hand up and asked Lizzie a question directly about when she saw me that night. The other jury members nodded like mad at the question. She said it was about five minutes after calling the other servants. Hanbury drove on at her, asking how she knew her mistress was murdered. For the first time she looked frit and muddled. She said she did not know what had happened to Miss Keyse. They all started on at her then. Mr Bendle called out about this illness, had she been ill long? No, she said, she’d not mentioned it to Miss Keyse as she might think more on it than was necessary. Oh aye, I bet she would have. Miss Keyse would have gone mad if she found Lizzie had a rabbit in the burrow.

  Hacker then harried her for a while longer about how sound she was asleep, then he hit with the big question. He asked her if I held any grudge against the mistress. The room went like crazy and a mass of heads turned and whispered each to each. Lizzie stood silent, looking down. Hacker shouted that she must answer. She began to speak, at first so low you could scarce hear it, then stronger. She’d said that in late October I’d come into the kitchen crying. She’d asked me what I was crying for and I’d said the Missis had cut my money. She said that I then grew very angry saying I would not stop another night and before I left I would have my revenge. I jumped up to say something but Bastin put his hand on his shoulder and forced me back down. I yelled out that I niver said such a thing. I had to stop it. There was a commotion in the court Hacker told me to put my hand up if I wanted to question the witness then he told her to go on but Lizzie whispered that was all she could say. There was still a furious gert noise in the room and Hacker kept yelling for order. He told Lizzie he may have to recall her. I kept on shouting that my sister had not told it right and Hacker said that it had been noted.

  Don’t Be Afraid

  A while back I heard an old poet had died in another country. He was someone revered by the whole world as a bard and inspirator: Heaney, Seamus Heaney, of course The news here is mainly local stuff: car wrecks, new Assembly leaders, worries about listeria in cheese products, I usually screen that crud out. I like to keep a TV or radio burbling on in the background. That way I think I have c
ompany. In fact I was actually asleep in my chair when I heard about the poet’s death but somehow a waking part of me heard it. I found myself sobbing out loud, partly in dream, partly waking. There is something so horrible about a great poet dying. Perhaps that’s the only way my male brain could allow a display of feeling. My asperities usually cancel out any other attempt. A later report said that the last words that Heaney had come out with were: ‘noli timere’. He texted it to his wife. I loved that. It was so cool that he loved Latin also. I think that should be my motto. It might help when I feel the spirits of my parents brush past me in the dark. Also when accusing versions of the self say it’s all my fault they are not here.

  Noli timere, don’t be afraid. Maybe that’s what Grandpa was grasping for after the funeral when he said, “If you’re going through hell kid, keep going.” I never went to my own parent’s coroner’s inquest. The cops had me write down what happened but I was never called. I might not have gone to my folks’ inquest but I’ve sure had to wrestle with the one Lee got dragged to. Maybe there is a parallel here. Some lesson I’ve not cottoned on to yet. Mainly I’ve used all these transcripts to test out if he is lying on the recordings. They are the one chance to check the accuracy of Lee’s memory as recorded on the spools. It’s awesome the way they do match with Lee’s account. Often they follow almost word for word, although sometimes he mixed the order in which the witnesses were actually called. Lee might have accurately remembered what people said but as to who was actually telling the truth on the stand, that was quite another deal.

  Spool Three

  Who is There to Speak for Me?

  St Marychurch November 1884

  —I was on about the inquest, doc. Jane Neck was taken up to the stand by Nott. He also brought out a candlestick, a box of matches and an oil can. I waved my hand about at Hacker and asked him when I would get a chance to speak. Hacker kept calling me “prisoner”. He said that those proceedings were not concerned with my witness, I was to be quiet.

  Doctor Kaiser: Who else was called to give evidence?

  —Jane, all in black, her face like a brown leaf. I thought surely she would be gentler and not say ill of me? She said she had been in employment of the deceased for forty years and more. ’Twas strange how they all spoke of the “deceased”. What word was that? Dead is what the Missis was. Deed as a maggot, deed as a stone as they said in Deb’m spaich. What divvurnce was it then, what was the point of all that talking once she’d gone? That’s what I thought then in my young simple mind. The Missis had once said to me that she was not afeared of death, for she would meet her pilot when she had crossed the bar. Well, she had well and truly crossed it, that was for sure.

  Jane went on about how on that last Friday we had prayers at about ten thirty. After that she saw me go to bed. She said she went into my room for lamp oil at about eleven and found me asleep. Good old Jane. She left cocoa to warm for the Missis and last saw her writing in her diary at twenty to one. She left the house keys by the Missis’ bed and went to bed herself. She said she had bolted most of the downstairs shutters but left one open because the Missis liked to go out on the terrace sometimes. That was important but no one made much of it. Jane said she was woke by Lizzie crying out about smoke. She went to the Missis’ bedroom and found it empty and ablaze. She heard her sister calling that she had found Miss Keyse downstairs. She said that she saw me in the passageway outside Miss Keyse’s room on the first floor. I took her arm and guided her down. She said that the only words I came out with were, ‘Good God, the fire!’

  Jane kept twisting a handkerchief in her fingers as they batted at her with questions. She said that the fire broke out about four or five in the morning and the house was filled with thick smoke. Hacker was most keen at finding out about the dining room shutters. Were they open or not? he kept on asking. She said that they were not open when she first came into that room with me. The only light was a glow from the fire. It was a while before she realized it was her mistress burning there on the dining room floor. She wasn’t sure who opened the shutters, then they were broken and she was able to open a window and shout ‘Fire!’ out the front. They kept on asking her how was the glass broken but she couldn’t tell them clearly. I jumped up any number of times to try and tell them that it was me that broke them but I kept being shouted down. They made it clear they did not want to hear from me. I even waved my bandaged hand at Jane and she then gave me a quick look across that crowded room. She looked plenty frit also. Then she told them that I had been up and dressed when she first saw me and that yes, now that she remembered, I had broken the windows and hurt my arm doing so. She said that she had then sent me to fetch Gasking. They kept on at her trying to see if I had said anything to her about Miss Keyse but she denied it.

  About then the jurors talked among themselves and then Foreman Hanbury got to his feet and called out asking Jane to tell why would Miss Keyse come down from her bedroom in the night. Jane said the only reason would be to leave a message with me, John Lee. Yes well, I knew what else she’d be minded to do. I tried to say that Miss Keyse had already given me a note that night to take a brace of pheasants up to Compton House and had no need to speak to me again but again Hacker told me that was enough from me. The jury stared at me as if hearing yet another thing that told against me.

  Doctor Kaiser: Let me understand. Your mistress had already left you a note that night? So, she did not need to return downstairs to tell you anything else?

  —You’ve got it, sir. But the court weren’t bothered about hearing it. They finished with Jane by getting her to identify the Missis’ candlestick and the can of lamp oil that was usually kept in my room. Jane said the can was near full on that Friday night but now ’twas empty. They kept the biggest question to last, asking on the relations between the servants and the Missis. She said that all the servants were on good terms with Miss Keyse. I could have hugged the old bat then though she began to say something else, something about the Missis getting me to emigrate and about her advancing me some money. That made me laugh out loud. The tight crow would never do such a thing. Why silly old Jane came out with that, Heaven knows. I tried to speak but I was waved off. Jane said I was very much put out because Miss Keyse did not give me what I expected and talked about leaving. They pushed and prodded at her to say more but she pressed her kerchief to her face and just shook her head. I suppose I should have been grateful she did not say more, it could have been worse.

  They laid out a pile of stuff in the inquest hall that they kept waving about over the next few days. A hatchet and two knives, Miss Keyse’s broken hair comb, some black rags, a shirt and my stained plaid trousers—strange to see them trousers there. Whenever Nott or Meech took the stuff out there’d be a great hissing and murmuration from the big crowd. I took to turning around and making madman faces at the girls in the front row. That would set them off screaming, ’n Hacker had to keep calling for order. Bloody young fool that I was then but I thought I might as well live up to that Punch and Judy show. You won’t know what that is—a rollicking theatre, a mummer’s play, you get it?

  Doctor Kaiser: I think so.

  —Eliza Neck got to her feet next. She gave me a sharp look as she went past. There would be no havering and hesitating from Eliza. She took the oath, speaking in a clear loud voice, and then launched into it. Said she was ladies maid and had as usual put a hot water bottle in the Missis’ bed and laid out her night dress. She had bolted the first floor door leading out to where the water cask was. Said she woke once in the night but only got up on hearing Lizzie cry out. She went downstairs to the dining room and at the bottom of the stairs she ran into me. She said that I had asked her, ‘What is the matter?’

  I can still see her now, that skull face under a white cap coming out at me through the thick fume. I could barely tell the two old bods apart so at the time I didn’t know if it was Jane or Eliza. She went on to say that she went with me through the choking smoke into the dining room where all one wall w
as afire. It was only when pouring water on that that she realized Miss Keyse was lying there on the floor. She said I was dashing about in shirt and trousers with my braces hanging down trying to fight the fire.

  Juror Bendle, who fancied himself as a detective, asked if I was a heavy sleeper but Eliza said she didn’t know. You couldn’t get her to express opinions like them others. She identified the matches as ones usually kept in my room and said that she had found the candlestick on the dining room floor. That candlestick, it was strange how they harped on it. Indeed it was more significant than they could guess. If Eliza knew more she was not saying it then but kept her mouth shut as cramp as a cockle. She denied touching any lamp oil, she denied that I was with her when she found the body and said that there was nothing between Miss Keyse and the servants that gave her concern. All the questions washed off her like rain off a stone and in the end they dismissed her. I suppose I should have been relieved but her hard face on the stand there filled me with a fear I could not name. Something bad was coming. Everything was going to go scat. Come to nothing, doc. I knew it. Mainly though, I was hurting because it was so clear that Lizzie had turned on me.