The Tulip Girl

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘You go,’ Maddie said to Nick. ‘You and Adam go in first and then send him out after ten minutes or so and I’ll come in. You stay with your mother all the time we’re allowed.’

  Nick smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sure she’d rather have Adam all the time than either of us.’

  ‘Go on,’ Maddie pushed his shoulder gently. ‘Go on with you.’

  When they arrived back at Few Farm after that first visit, they found Jenny pacing the yard.

  ‘There you are. I was just about to give up and go home. Have you seen her? How is she?’ Though she asked the usual question, Maddie could see at once that there was more than just her concern for Harriet troubling Jenny.

  ‘Come on inside and I’ll make us all a pot of tea.’

  ‘Don’t bother for me, I must start the generator up else we’ll have no electricity by morning,’ Nick said.

  ‘Can I go to the village on me bike, Mam?’ Adam asked. ‘To see Donald?’

  ‘Who’s Donald?’

  ‘Donald Fisher. He’s just come to live in the village and started our school.’

  ‘All right but be home by six o’clock. You hear?’

  ‘Yes, Mam.’

  ‘And change into your old trousers first. I don’t want you ruining your best pair.’

  ‘Yes, Mam,’ they heard him shout as his feet pounded up the stairs.

  Maddie smiled at Jenny. ‘Looks like it’s just you and me for tea, then.’

  Jenny nodded and Maddie couldn’t help noticing that the girl looked relieved.

  The reason became obvious as soon as they sat down on either side of the kitchen table with cups of tea in front of them.

  ‘I’m glad I’ve got you on your own,’ Jenny began when Adam had gone hurtling out of the yard gate on his bicycle. ‘There – there’s something I’ve got to tell you.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Maddie said lightly, trying to take some of the worried look from Jenny’s face. ‘Not expecting, are you?’

  Jenny gasped and her mouth dropped open. ‘No, I’m not,’ she retorted indignantly.

  ‘Well, don’t make it sound as if it’s the worst crime in the world,’ Maddie said and could not keep the trace of bitterness from her tone as she added, ‘I’m sure Steven wouldn’t desert you.’

  ‘No, I don’t think he would,’ Jenny replied quietly. ‘But it’s not that. It’s – it’s about you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. There’s gossip in the village about – about Mrs Trowbridge’s illness.’

  Maddie shook her head, baffled. ‘What about it?’

  ‘That – that it’s like Mr Frank had.’

  ‘We know that.’

  ‘They’re saying that it could be that – I mean . . .’

  ‘Oh for Heaven’s sake, Jen, spit it out. Just what are the old busybodies saying?’

  Now the words came out in a rush. ‘That you’re poisoning her. That you poisoned Mr Frank to get the farm and now you’re trying to get rid of Mrs Trowbridge. Everybody knows the two of you have never got on.’

  ‘I – am – what?’ Maddie was horrified that anyone could even think such a thing, let alone voice it aloud.

  ‘Maddie, I’m sorry. But I thought you ought to know . . .’ Her voice trailed away into a whisper.

  ‘Oh I ought to know, all right.’ Maddie stood up as if she would confront the gossipmongers there and then. ‘Who’s saying these things, who’s . . .?’

  ‘Maddie, just sit down and listen, will you?’

  Frowning, her mouth pouting, Maddie reluctantly lowered herself into the chair again. ‘How do the village folk know we don’t get on, unless someone’s told them? Mrs Trowbridge doesn’t mix with any of them and I’ve certainly never said anything.’ She glared at Jenny, who said defensively, ‘Well, it wasn’t me. But there’s several people who know. They’ve long memories, village folk, and it was common knowledge when you first came to the farm. Folk used to get their milk and eggs and butter from here then, don’t forget.’

  ‘Mrs Trowbridge has always said that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That the villagers have got long memories. Seems she was right.’

  Jenny was frowning now. ‘There’s a lot more to it than you and me know, Maddie. Even Mrs Grange keeps hinting at secrets and scandals from long ago, but she’ll never really tell me what she’s on about.’

  ‘Have you asked her?’

  ‘Not – not really.’

  Grimly, Maddie said, ‘Then maybe it’s time you did.’

  Forty-Seven

  Because of Jenny’s warning, it was not such a shock to Maddie when PC Parsons wobbled up the yard on his bicycle, dismounted and leant it against the wall of the house.

  ‘You there, young Maddie?’ He opened the back door and walked into the wash-house without waiting for an invitation.

  He’d always called her that from her days at the Home. He wasn’t the sort of man to alter his ways just because she was now twenty-seven and he close to retiring age.

  ‘At the moment, I am,’ she said, opening the kitchen door. ‘Come away in. Cup of tea?’

  He eyed her over the spectacles he wore, as he removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. ‘I don’t think I will just now. Thank you.’

  He manoeuvred his bulk around the kitchen table and followed her into the living room where he placed his helmet on the table and sat down.

  Coming straight to the point, as was his way, he said, ‘There’s nasty rumours going around the village, lass, that you’ve not been as careful as you might have been with washing your hands after dealing with weedkiller and rat poison and such-like on the farm before you serve up the dinner.’

  Maddie stared at him. A cheeky retort sprang to her lips, but although he had broached the subject in a half-comical way, his expression was very serious. This was not a laughing matter and she would serve herself no purpose by treating his visit in a jocular manner.

  Holding his gaze, Maddie said calmly, ‘I’m always very careful, Mr Parsons, about such things. And I very rarely touch the weedkiller or the rat poison. That’s Nick’s job.’

  ‘You suggesting that it’s Nicholas who is poisoning his mother?’

  Now Maddie was getting angry, but she managed to keep her voice level as she said, ‘I’m suggesting that neither of us is doing any such thing.’

  ‘Well, someone is. The doctor’s tests show that she has a high level of arsenic in her system.’

  Maddie gasped and knew that the colour fled from her face. She was helpless to stop it as the policeman continued relentlessly. ‘But you do have arsenic on the farm, don’t you? Dr Battison saw it for himself in the barn.’

  Speechless with shock now, Maddie’s thoughts were reeling. This was a nightmare. An horrific dream. She would wake up any minute to hear Harriet banging on her bedroom door to wake her up. It had to be. It couldn’t really be happening.

  She was suddenly cold and shivering. It was all too terribly real.

  ‘Mam, Mam . . .’ Adam was bursting in through the back door. ‘Donald’s dad won’t let him play with me any more. He ses . . .’ The boy stopped short as he saw the policeman sitting at the table, then, his gaze still on PC Parsons, he sidled to his mother to stand beside her.

  Maddie put her arms about him. She forced herself to speak, but her voice was a hoarse whisper as she said, ‘Adam, go and find Nick for me, will you?’

  The boy sped away, pleased, she guessed, to escape.

  PC Parsons was nodding sagely. ‘I expect that Donald’s father’s heard the rumours an’ all.’

  Maddie stared at him. ‘Are you arresting me?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘No,’ he said, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he added, ‘Not at the moment. But I would like you to come down to the station with me and make a full statement.’

  ‘What on earth about? I’ve told you, I . . .’

  ‘Well, to answer questions then. We want some answers, Mrs Brackenbury.’

  Now
Maddie knew real fear. It was the first time ever that the friendly PC Parsons had ever called her by her surname.

  But PC Parsons was no longer being friendly.

  In her wildest nightmares, Maddie had never thought to find herself in a prison cell. The tiny square room brought back the claustrophobia of the cupboard beneath the stairs that Mrs Potter had used as her own particular prison cell for wrongdoers. But in there Maddie had been able to hear the sounds of the other girls, of the household going about its routine. Everyone took their turn in the cupboard and everyone knew that soon they would be released.

  But now, Maddie had no such reassurance. Here she could hear nothing of the world beyond the heavy door and the thick walls and had no idea what was to happen to her.

  They had questioned her for four hours in the police station in Wellandon. Even PC Parson’s police house in Eastmere had not been official enough. She had been arrested, cautioned and brought to the town in a police car, driven through the village for all to see. And when the questioning got them nowhere, they locked her in a cell where she spent a cold and sleepless night.

  A cold-eyed detective sergeant interviewed her, walking around her whilst she sat at the table and a young detective constable, sitting opposite her, took notes.

  ‘Why did you do it, Brackenbury?’ Gone was any pretence at politeness. Now she was a suspected criminal.

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Thought you would inherit all his money and the tenancy of his farm?’ He thrust his face close to hers. ‘And you did, didn’t you?’

  Helpless against his reasoning, which, even to her ears, sounded plausible, Maddie was silent.

  ‘And now you want to rid yourself of his housekeeper. You’ve never got on, the two of you, have you?’

  ‘I haven’t done anything,’ she protested. ‘Not to Frank nor to Mrs Trowbridge.’

  He strolled around behind her, his closeness making every nerve in her body tingle. Slowly he came around to stand facing her, then he leant on his hands on the table, towering over her. ‘How did you do it, eh? So that you didn’t poison everyone in the household.’

  ‘I didn’t have anything to do with the meals before Mrs Trowbridge was taken ill.’

  ‘But you have since, eh?’

  ‘Well – yes.’

  ‘So, it would have been quite easy for you to administer a first, small dose of arsenic, just enough to make her ill and then, when you took over the food preparation, you began to increase the dosage, eh? It would be easy then to put it into just her food, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I didn’t. I swear I didn’t do anything to harm anyone.’

  He ignored her protestations as if she had not spoken. ‘Who’s next, eh? Her son, Nicholas, or . . .’ He leant menacingly closer and his voice dropped to a shocked whisper, acting as if he couldn’t believe even her capable of such wickedness. ‘. . . .Your own son?’

  Maddie gasped, staring at him. Now she began to tremble. What hope had she of proving her innocence if this man could believe she could do such a thing?

  He straightened up now and resumed his pacing around her. Maddie wasn’t sure which was the most unnerving.

  ‘You say you didn’t have anything to do with the preparation of food?’

  ‘No. Mrs Trowbridge did all that.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘No.’

  Again he was in front of her and now he thumped both fists down onto the table so suddenly that Maddie almost leapt from her chair. ‘You’re lying! Do you mean to tell me that you never prepared anything that the people in that household ate or drank? You never so much as made a sandwich, or a pot of tea, or . . .’ The menace in his tone was back. ‘. . . The cocoa at night?’

  She opened her mouth to ask ‘How did you know?’ but without uttering a word she clamped her lips tightly together.

  ‘Ah, now we’ve nothing to say, have we?’ He jabbed his forefinger towards her. ‘You put arsenic in the housekeeper’s cocoa that you used to make every night for the whole family. And I dare bet that was the way you did it with Frank Brackenbury, too. And when we’ve exhumed his body, we’ll prove it.’

  He turned on his heel and left the interview room, leaving Maddie staring after him, open-mouthed and very afraid.

  She was taken back to the cell and left alone for the next two hours before being taken back to the interview room again. Here, there was always one constable or another in the room with her, but they never spoke to her. Even when someone brought her a cup of tea, they did not speak, even though she said, automatically, ‘Thank you.’

  Eventually, the door opened and Maddie stiffened, expecting the return of her ruthless inquisitor. Instead, it was another stranger to Maddie who now entered the room and sat down in front of her. He was dressed in plain clothes, like the previous one, but whereas the first detective had been thin and wiry, this one was very overweight. His jacket was undone and his shirt buttons strained as he moved, looking as if they would pop off at any moment. He had a round, florid face and he breathed noisily, but to Maddie’s surprise he was smiling at her as he sat down on the opposite side of the table.

  ‘My name’s Detective Inspector Johnson and you’re Maddie, aren’t you?’ As she nodded, he went on. ‘Yes. Now let’s see if we can clear this little matter up and we can all go home, eh?’ He leant back in the chair and linked his fingers across his belly. ‘My colleague a bit rough on you, was he? Well, he’s only doing his job. But let’s you and me see if we can sort this out, all nice and friendly like, shall we?’

  Maddie felt herself begin to relax a little. At least she felt that she could talk to this one, that he would listen.

  ‘Let’s say you didn’t do it deliberately. Let’s say it’s all been a terrible accident. Did you ever mix up weedkiller, Maddie?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Nick always did that.’

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘Nicholas Trowbridge.’

  ‘Ah yes, Nicholas. Mm.’ DS Johnson regarded her steadily. ‘We have a statement from Mr Trowbridge that says although it was normally his job, he had shown you how to do it. That true?’

  ‘Well, yes. On a farm like ours, we have to be able to do each other’s jobs, just in case one of us is ill . . .’ Her voice trailed away. Every time she spoke it seemed as if she dug a deeper hole for herself. She felt as if, at any moment, the sides were going to cave in and she was going to be buried alive.

  ‘So . . .’ his tone was still deceptively mild, but she saw the sudden spark in his eyes. He had her now, he knew he had her trapped. ‘You admit you know how to mix up weedkiller or maybe rat poison with a base of arsenic, which you keep on the farm? And you also admit that it was the custom for you to make the cocoa at night?’

  In a small voice, Maddie could say nothing other than, ‘Yes.’

  Now he leant forward and rested his arms on the table. ‘So, how do you think it looks to us, Maddie?’

  A spark of resilience ignited inside her. Maddie faced him with surprising calm. ‘It must look to you,’ she said slowly, ‘as if I’m guilty. I see that. But I’m not. I swear to you I have done nothing to harm anyone.’

  Her gaze held his steadily and for a brief moment she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Then slowly he stood up. ‘You’re a cool one, I’ll say that for you.’

  They were the last words she exchanged with anyone for twenty-four hours.

  Forty-Eight

  ‘Am I allowed to send a message to a friend?’

  When a constable brought a meal into the cell, Maddie asked the question. During the time she had been left alone, she had been doing a lot of thinking. Though fear still clawed at her belly and the food they brought every few hours stuck in her throat, nevertheless, she was calmer now and able to think more rationally.

  ‘What friend might that be?’

  ‘Jenny Wren who works at the corner shop in Eastmere.’

  The constable glanced over his shoulder as if unsure whether he should be even speaki
ng to the prisoner, let alone doing favours for her. In a low voice, he said, ‘She’s already been in to the station three times, asking about you.’

  Maddie gave a tremulous smile and relief and gratitude flooded through her. Jenny would never let her down.

  ‘Please, when she comes again . . .’ Maddie said, for she was sure she would. ‘Could you ask her to look after Adam? That’s my son. He’s only ten. It’s not fair on Nick that he should have to look after the boy. He’ll have enough to do trying to keep things going on the farm.’

  There was relief on the constable’s face. ‘Oh, that’s all right. One of the things she said to tell you was that the lad was staying with her and Mrs – er – Grange, is it?’

  Maddie nodded and breathed a sigh of thankfulness. ‘Yes, Mrs Grange.’

  As he turned to go, he even smiled at her. ‘That’s all right, then.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it is. Thank you.’

  It was not until the heavy door had clanged behind him and she was alone once more that Maddie realized she had not asked him what else it was that Jenny had said.

  Maddie passed another night in the small, dark room, though this time she did sleep a little. The following morning shortly after breakfast, she was taken once more to the interview room and mentally she steeled herself for yet more questioning.

  As she waited, with only the silent constable sitting in the far corner for company, she wondered which of her two interrogators it would be this time.

  The door opened and the desk sergeant announced, ‘A visitor for you. Your solicitor.’

  Maddie looked up and began to say, ‘But I haven’t got a solicitor . . .’ but the words remained unspoken as she gave a start of surprise as the man walked into the room.

  ‘Mr Theo.’

  He was smiling as he came and sat down opposite her, placing a folder of papers on the table beside him. But she could see the concern for her in his blue eyes. For the first time in a very long time, tears threatened to overwhelm her.