Cruel as the Grave

by Meg Elizabeth Atkins

  ‘What do you mean?’ Liz asked, suddenly uncertain.

  ‘I mean Helen and I have come to an arrangement and there’s no room for you in it anywhere.’

  As she spoke, Paula looked round the kitchen carefully, assessingly, nodding to herself. Then she did something unaccountable: she went to the kitchen door, briskly unclicked the latch. While she did this she talked in such a way as if something had been agreed between them. ‘No, I don’t want to leave the way I came in, the front was a bit risky.’

  Liz said, puzzled, ‘Was it you — trying the back door?’

  ‘Of course. That’s how I came, along the side here — I didn’t even need to walk down Bellfield.’ She was staring at Liz with a superior, anticipatory smile, inviting her to understand.

  It came to Liz in slow-motion — a sense of the inevitability of Paula’s actions — not random, not inconsequential. This was what Paula knew she could do and get away with, because she’d done it before...

  Liz heard the rain, looked at the muffling waterproofs, thought of the network of paths and tracks. Of silent footsteps.

  ‘You. You went to Woodside that morning. Didn’t you? You said Reggie had changed his mind, asked you not to go — but he hadn’t, he waited for you at Woodside, just as you’d arranged, let you in, someone he trusted... ’ It was the look on Paula’s face, the pleasure in her own cleverness, that made Liz master her growing anger. She needed to know the truth and what she had to do to get it was pretend to be overawed — Paula would have no trouble believing that: admiration was her due.

  She made her voice falter, ‘And you dictated that note, but — how could you get him to... ’

  ‘Of course I went to Woodside. By the back way, Liz, by the hack way,’ she repeated softly. ‘I told him there was something important he had to know, so we sat down together to talk, and because it was a nasty cold morning, we had a drink together. Only I didn’t drink mine, I kept adding it to his when he wasn’t looking. I told him I’d come into possession of information about Beattie’s death that would clear him completely — oh, it really didn’t matter what I said — he believed anything, he was so stupefied with his tranquillisers. We had another drink — he had another drink. I told him it was time he had some more pills; it wasn’t — he had no idea what he was doing by then, just did whatever I said. He always did what anyone said, didn’t he? I looked at him, so futile, so worthless — what had he ever done to deserve... he and Helen... ’ She lost track; paused, began again. ‘I told him I had to take him somewhere where there was evidence, and we’d be late back, so he’d better leave a note for Helen. He didn’t know what he wrote, just copied down as I spoke. I almost had to carry him to his car, he passed out as I put him in the driver’s seat. It was easy, he didn’t suffer.’

  She was too absorbed in herself to care, to even notice the effect this was having on Liz. And Liz, sickened, listened to how Paula walked back home the way she had come and at the right time got out her car and drove to Woodside where she parked in a lay-by in sight of number 18. ‘I knew what time Helen was due back. I had to be there, she wasn’t going to make that discovery alone — ’ Any possibility that this demonstrated humanity in Paula disappeared instantly. ‘I had to make sure that note survived. Devastated Helen might be, but she wouldn’t have the family name besmirched by suicide if she could help it. No, she’d have destroyed it, tried to make out it was an accident... If he took the blame, if he appeared to take the blame for the murder, then the whole thing could be wrapped up and put away. Which is exactly what happened. I was in the clear and ready for the next move. Only you... You started meddling.’

  Her eyes came into focus; disturbingly, her face had an untenanted look; for Liz there was the suddenly stomach lurching suspicion that Paula might have lost her hold on reality. But it was only too easy to plead madness — all that conniving and destructiveness, it took clarity, a sense of purpose to do what Paula had done. ‘You sicken and disgust me — ’

  Paula’s eyebrows went up, interested. Conversationally, she asked, ‘Don’t I frighten you as well? I should, you know.’ Then in a thought-out, controlled movement, she reached to her right and took the largest knife from the wall fitting of three.

  A speechless moment of absolute incredulity, then the fear running through her to her bones. Paula stood between her and the back door; instinctively Liz began to back away to the dining room — what shall I do? what shall I do? Her voice was unsteady. ‘Paula, you don’t mean this — ’

  ‘Oh, don’t I just. In case it hasn’t sunk in yet — I’m going to get rid of you, you know too much, you’ve got a big mouth, and you’re in my way.’

  Paula walked forward, the knife held before her, angled for an upward thrust. She did not seem to be in any hurry. ‘No one saw me arrive, no one will see me leave. This will be an unexplained tragedy. I shall walk back to Woodside, get rid of these clothes — ’

  ‘Woodside!’ Liz cried. ‘What have you done to Helen?’

  ‘Oh, darling Helen’s all right. I couldn’t possibly harm darling Helen, could I? Helen’s going to hand over everything to me. The share I never had and was entitled to; Reggie’s share, yours, everything of hers — ’ Her hand moved, the blade was very large, a wicked gleam in the dullness of the overcast day.

  In spite of its threat, a distant anger stirred in Liz, expressed in scorn. ‘Good God, Paula, why on earth should Helen pass over a farthing to you?’

  ‘Because she killed Beattie Booth... ’

  ‘What!’

  ‘... and I’m going to see she pays for it for the rest of her life.’

  A moment. She found her voice, ‘Don’t be so — ’

  ‘Yes, she did,’ Paula shouted. ‘I worked it out, I did. Not you. Not the police. And you aren’t going to tell them, you’re not going to have the chance — ’

  The utter impossibility of it; the numbing sense that it could be true, came down like barriers in Liz’s mind before a rush of anger. She was in danger, but that took second place to rage. She wasn’t going to be menaced and attacked by this hateful woman, she wasn’t going to plead for her life, she was going to be cunning, she was going to get the better of Paula and save herself... There was nothing coherent in this thought process; just the instinct to survive that registered every object around her and expressed itself in a play-acting faintness.

  The Victorian mahogany chair. She put her hand on to its back as if to support herself, ‘I just can’t believe — ’ she had to struggle with her fury to make her voice low. Watched Paula advance — her blotchy face now livid with triumph — waited for her to get within range.

  Then her hand closed on the chair back, her body swung round as a counterweight for maximum impact, and the chair smashed into Paula’s body. Paula went sprawling, Liz so blindly furious she hoped she’d broken all her ribs; the action also had a vicious efficiency — as Paula reeled, her arm flung out, the knife arched, flashing, across the room — landing, thudding, Liz diving for it, grabbing it as it bounced.

  As she was getting to her feet, Paula staggered upright (she was indestructible, it was those layers of clothes); Liz circled, brandishing the knife, shouting, ‘I’ll kill you for what you’ve done — ’ Her back was now to the kitchen door — a half formed idea of making a dash for it collided with the sound of voices, the disturbed air of other presences. Paula, looking beyond her, was screaming, ‘She’s mad, she’s got a knife — they were in it together — her and Helen — ’

  From behind Liz, an arm firmly round her waist, clamping her to a solid body, a hand reaching to grasp her upraised hand, ‘All right, girl, give me that,’ Hunter said.

  There were two uniformed policemen as well as Hunter in her house, all three necessary to hold her and Paula apart as they screamed at each other, at Hunter.

  Liz: ‘I told you, I told you. Look at her — all that — camouflage. That’s how she went round to Reggie that morning — she’s admitted it. She’s proud of it. She’s come round
here — just the same — to kill me — ’

  Paula: ‘She hit me with a chair. That chair — hit me with it. Then she came at me with that knife, her own knife — look from here. It’s her knife — ’

  ‘Liar — she had to make sure I wouldn’t tell — listen,’ embarking on a high-speed, incoherent version of what Paula had told her. It made sense to her, it was simply the logical conclusion of everything they had considered. Paula began to struggle out of the grip of the policeman patiently holding her, outshouting Liz, ‘This man is sexually interfering with me — ’

  ‘Oh, Christ, you and your bloody family.’ Hunter breathed. He raised his voice. ‘Shut up,’ establishing some kind of order, knowing Liz now amenable and shoving her firmly aside. ‘Shut up and listen. Paula Pilling, I am arresting you for aiding and abetting the suicide of Reginald Thomas Willoughby, you do not have to say — ’

  Paula began to shriek, insults, obscenities, accusations. Hunter persisted, completed his caution. ‘Oh, God, take her away. Take her to Chatfield.’

  They must have heard her all down quiet Bellfield, struggling and shouting as she was hauled down the drive, to the road, into the police car. Rain or no rain, the neighbours would have to come out to see what was happening. Liz had temporarily stopped knowing, seeing, or caring about anything.

  Hunter held her close against him; she put her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, murmured something inconsequential. At last she had control — of a sort. He said, ‘Sit down, girl.’ She sat down, listened as he told her. Did she listen? He said, ‘I have to tell you, Liz, and you must take it in. I know what Helen did, all of it. I’ve just come from Woodside — ’

  ‘I must go to her — ’ Useless decision, her limbs refused to obey. ‘No, stay here, please. She confessed to the murder of Beattie Booth. She needed very much to clear her conscience.’

  Liz stared at him bleakly.

  ‘She’s very composed, very dignified, as you’d expect. And much too proud to tell me her greatest concern is for you, for your love. She’s afraid you’ll — ’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Annette’s taken her to Chatfield.’

  ‘Under arrest.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Please let me see her, please.’

  ‘Of course. Before you do, you’ll have to make a statement. I’ll drive you to Chatfield now. You can see Annette, she’ll — ’

  ‘Statement? What about?’

  ‘Everything, Liz. Everything.’

  *

  Everything meant a great deal and a long time; drinking plastic cups of awful tea, she grew irritable, tearful. ‘I was such a fool — it never occurred to me why Paula was so self-effacing. Paula — not taking centre stage. It was because she daren’t put herself in the way of having her involvement discovered. She used me and, oh, God, Annette, I fell for it — ’

  Annette, acting as shock-absorber, down-to-earth, sympathetic but brisk: Liz, that's only your interpretation... One of how many brushed aside warnings.

  ... ‘you won’t believe what started her off. Wilfred, of all things. That summer he spent with us. She’d got it into her head that he was going to marry Helen, that all the money, the property, would be combined with his, that if that happened she would never have a chance of getting her hands on what she thinks is hers anyway. But... it was all in her head... Wilfred marrying Helen... oh, hell, you can’t know how ironic that is, I’ll tell you one day. But by the time it had become obvious she was wrong, she’d started the whole thing rolling. It was out of control. Beattie was out of control. Then Beattie was dead — and that was driving Paula mad. When a woman’s body was found, Paula knew the description was Beattie’s — but she didn’t know it was her, or what could have happened. So she made that anonymous phone call.’

  ‘It was Paula? Liz, I’ve explained to you what hearsay is, you can’t — ’

  ‘She told me. And she told me why she did it. If she landed him right in it, she’d find out through him what was going on — if the dead woman was Beattie. But as you didn’t know yourself then, and Reggie had cleared off, anyway, she had to find someone else, use someone else so she could keep herself informed, keep herself out of it — ’

  ‘If she told you, it isn’t evidence that she did it, but we’ll put it in because it’s evidence she told you she did it.’

  ‘Bugger evidence. It’s what happened. Annette, why are you splitting hairs like this? Look, the lay-figure — ’

  ‘The what?’

  And as Liz explained, Annette’s professional impassivity giving way to disbelief, an unquenchable grin.

  ‘All right, Annette, I know it’s farcical. But, you see, everything was settling down; Reggie was in Cheltenham, out of the way, he couldn’t be indiscreet, let the cat out of the bag. Helen was, well, holding everything together. At that point Paula didn’t know, she hadn’t quite worked it out — but, oh, yes, she was nearly there. She needed to — galvanise things. And, my God, she did. What was more publicised than Beattie’s appearance? Yes? Paula, with all her busybodying amongst the underprivileged, knew where to go to buy that... thing. As for the clothes, Christ, have you seen her porch?’

  Annette, mesmerised, catching up, nodded. Of course, it was all there: disguising waterproofs, Beattie’s distinctive clothes... Paula could fit herself out as whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted...

  ‘Yes, yes, Liz, I’m with you... ’

  ‘You see... She made something happen. I insisted Reggie come back to keep Helen company, and he did, and... Annette, she used me, and I was stupid enough to let her...’

  ‘You were never stupid — ’

  ‘We got so close to it, didn’t we? But it just never occurred to either of us that the man who was responsible for all this was dead — Helen’s father, for God’s sake. And Paula had known, all the time, like Helen, but without knowing she knew, without believing it was true, just an old man’s maunderings... ’

  *

  It was over two hours later when they left the interview room. Annette handed Liz a bunch of keys. ‘Your aunt asked me to give you these. There’s the front door and — ’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Liz murmured, her hand knowing the feel, the shape of them.

  Hunter came down the corridor towards then. ‘I had a devil of a job getting Miss Willoughby to have a solicitor.’

  ‘Look, you must — ’

  ‘Liz, we are looking after her interests. She says she has no defence, no wish to escape justice, but I did manage to persuade her. Paula, on the other hand, is creating seventeen kinds of shit. She wants her doctor, her MP, Civil Liberties, the Race Relations Board, Marriage Guidance, her husband, her daughters — ’

  ‘Oh, God,’ Annette whispered, ‘can we put sandbags round the nick?’

  Liz said, ‘She’s a devious bitch, she’ll try and wriggle out of everything.’

  ‘No, she’s off balance, she keeps changing her story, she doesn’t seem to realise she’s not making sense.’

  ‘Please let me see Helen.’

  ‘Yes, come on. We’ll need to interview her again in a little while. You can have about twenty minutes.’

  An interview room, smartly painted, brightly lit. A uniformed WPC sitting unobtrusively by the door.

  This is the most heart-stopping moment of my life. No, I must think of her. She looked fragile, and very gentle, the least criminal of people imaginable. ‘Helen... ’

  They sat side by side, holding hands tightly, unable to speak until Helen said steadily, ‘I thought you would hate me... ’

  ‘Oh, how could I... ’

  And then there were words that had no meaning except in terms of comfort to one another. Helen was the first to sit a little straighter, begin to make sense. ‘I’m to go before the magistrates on Monday. I won’t get bail, no darling, don’t have any false hopes on that. We must be practical and deal with things as they are, not as we wish them to be, it’s too late for that now.’

  So they dealt with
practical things: solicitors, accountants, the bank manager, relatives. Liz in a panic aware that their time was running out, wasted on the mundane. ‘I’ve asked if the vicar might visit me tomorrow, and it’s perfectly all right. Would you go round when you leave, darling, and prepare him. I think,’ Helen said, all her practicality lost in the mildest bemusement, ‘this is the last place he would expect to see me. But everyone is so good. Do you know, I have to have eight hours uninterrupted sleep. I doubt I will, though, but there is a curious comfort in the thought that regulations require it. Now, Annette has given you the keys to Woodside... Good. I’m so glad you’re friends, she’s a splendid young person... ’

  ‘Yes,’ Liz said, not daring to look up. A splendid young person... What did one do with standards no longer applicable, with unwanted tears.

  ‘I am aware of the harm I’ve done you — no, listen. Barbara Devere is first class, we know, she would stand by you — ’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ll phone her this evening, and put my resignation in the post.’

  ‘Darling, you love your job so much, it’s not Barbara — ’

  ‘No, it’s the parents. They’re spending a fortune having their girls taught history by a woman who — who — ’

  ‘Who has two relatives in custody, one for murder. This is what we have to do, face it, not evade it. I can only give you my heart’s apology that you will have to cope with this alone.’ With a glance towards the WPG, Helen lowered her voice — not concealment, but delicacy, this was a family matter. ‘You know, I have thought for some time that Paula’s mental state was rather precarious.’

  ‘Yes, well... Helen, don’t expect a charitable word from me about her. I admit I never knew about her financial difficulties — obviously they were fuel to her rage — that I was secure, that you were generous to me.’

  ‘Darling, this is very important. That night, at Miller’s Bridge, all I could think of was that I had to stop that woman destroying my life — and Reggie’s — and yours.’ She hesitated, looked intently at Liz. ‘Don’t you see — I never even thought of Paula... She has seldom entered into the least corner of my thoughts, and that night, she didn’t exist for me. This is also something for which I must atone.’