Ever since St. Bride’s, walking had assumed more and more importance to her wellbeing, to the point where she was sure she must be doing up to twenty miles a week. Sometimes she wondered what people around Ellbeck must think of her, really. Eccentric, middle-aged spinster would probably be among the more tolerant comments.
The thing was walking for its own sake was thought of as odd here in the countryside. It was all well and good for the hikers, who were looked upon, anyway, in a slightly disdainful way. Obviously, they were short of something to do if they needed to be tramping around the countryside, in peculiar clothes.
But to the many of the people in the dale, walking was something you did when you had to, and that particularly applied to farmers. So, it was good to have company with her this time. She wasn’t exactly nervous being by herself in the countryside, but there were out of the way places she tended to avoid. Also, it looked a lot more acceptable to see a couple walking than a woman on her own.
“I’d miss this, if I left the dales, Henry. In fact, I think I would miss this really badly—the freedom to be able to strike out.”
Henry paused and she could hear him breathe hard–a tiny part of her got a little kick out of that–she was probably fitter than she realised.
“So, you’re still thinking about it, then, Edith.”
She had skirted around what she had set out to tell him. “I’m not sure. I haven’t dismissed the idea. But, there is something that has happened now, to further put the cat amongst the pigeons.”
“Come on,” Henry answered. “We’ll walk and talk.
Not facing him, she said, “I found out something by accident, something that has really thrown me, so much so, that I don’t know what to think.”
She paused but Henry didn’t say anything, didn’t help her out. Edith sighed and hoped she wasn’t going to regret sharing this–something that actually wasn’t really her secret to tell. “I found out that something has gone on between my brother and Julia, something I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out. I’ll say something romantic if that doesn’t sound a bit Peg’s paper.”
She stopped and looked at him. There was no mistaking his look of surprise, absolutely no mistaking it. It was some consolation; at least there hadn’t been someone else close to her keeping her in the dark.
“When you say…?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I have a feeling that it was something fleeting. But I could be completely wrong. It could have been a fully blown, serious affair.”
“Edith, it must have been devastating for you to find this out.”
She felt a happy glow in her heart. Someone understood. It had been the right thing to do–to tell him. “It was. I can’t tell you, Henry. I felt as if my world was turned on its head, mad hatters’ tea party. I still feel like that.”
“Let’s stop for a minute. I don’t think I’m as fit as you. It seems my life must be more sedentary. I’m afraid, I can only offer a wall.”
He indicated a low stone wall, made in the local style without the use of mortar, and quite likely to have been standing here for a hundred years or more.
“Actually, I think I’d prefer the grass…and look.”
It made her look more than ever like a hiker, but she took off her knapsack. She pulled out the two glass bottles of lemonade and handed one to Henry, who had perched on the wall. The bottle opener she handed him was an ancient and half-blunt thing, but it did the job.
“Nectar,” he said as he drank almost half the bottle.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and for a second, Edith could see a small boy. It was a strange feeling, half sad and half warm and it had hit her out of the blue, just like that weird feeling of familiarity she’d felt when she saw him coming down the church aisle.
“In some ways I feel more betrayed by Julia, you know.”
Henry nodded and stretched his legs out.
“Archie has always been an odd fish,” Edith began, then quickly corrected herself. “No, sorry, I’m not being fair. I’m angry with him. But he’s always been a bit enigmatic, always liked to keep the air of mystery. He disappeared off to London as a boy to work in some hotel kitchen and had to be hauled back. Then, I suppose he did the conventional thing and followed daddy’s footsteps into medicine and then…”
“And then the war,” said Henry softly.
“Yes,” she said. “Always the war. He first introduced Bridget to us at home as his wife, no bringing her up to see us all, or even writing about her. Of course, we put that down to the war again…lots of people met and married quickly. Now I look at it as all of a piece with how he has behaved all his life. So I suppose I wouldn’t have expected him to mention Julia. He would also be sure I would disapprove, you know the goody-goody sister.”
Henry laughed now. “Come on, Edith. You’re getting carried away now.”
She smiled too. “Well, maybe I am a bit. Anyway, it would have to be the goody-goody sister who went spectacularly mad a year ago.”
They were quiet for a while. The sun had become very warm quite suddenly and Edith could feel a dangerous languor. If she stayed in this position for much longer, she’d fall asleep despite all the turmoil going on in her life.
She got up and put the bottles back in the knapsack. “I suppose we should head back to Ellbeck,” she said. “It’s been more than good to leave them all alone for a while, let them get on with it, without me.
She continued where they’d left off. It was easier to do this while part of your attention was on walking. You could keep an eye on the path before you and every few minutes leave the practical world to stare at the vista spread before you. Now even the intense green of the farmland was blurred by a heat haze that made all look wavy and quite beautiful in a subdued way. Walking was good.
“I can’t believe Julia kept such a thing from me. Well, that was my initial thought, but then I’ve shifted about a bit in how I see it…Giles’s affair, she told me about that…so, if I stop feeling paranoid and over-sensitive, maybe I can understand why she kept it to herself.”
Henry was breathing hard as the incline increased. They were near the summit of the hill now.
“Maybe she thought it was Archie’s place to tell you. I mean they are likely to have discussed it and if he specifically asked her not to tell you…”
Edith thought how unusual it was for any man to be able to think like this, talk like this…actually that was really unfair of her. Her experience was limited and how she could generalise like that? She would be no better than the many men who thought, when the war was over, a woman’s place was in the home.
“Julia was so embarrassed when I saw them together. She blurted it out–Archie would have been happy with telling me that what he did with his private life was none of my business, end of subject.”
“So, Edith, now that you’ve given it some thought, slept on it, absorbed the shock if you like, what are you going to do next?”
“Mmm, not so easy, is it? I mean, we all have to go on living together in pretty close proximity. When all the flouncing about and rushing off in high dudgeon is done with…well, life goes on. Sorry Henry, not one of the most inspired turns of phrase, in the circumstances.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Edith raised her eyes–the summit was only minutes away now and exhilaration began in her head and coursed through every bit of her. How fickle the body’s response could be, sometimes.
“Do you want my advice? Henry asked.
She didn’t hesitate, though suppressed a flash of amusement. Did Henry know just how like a clergyman he sounded? “Of course, yes. Please.”
“Go and see Julia. This is the moment to be the more forgiving one, the adult. I don’t think she can be thinking straight, and she needs her friends, all the more so, perhaps in the weeks to come.”
Edith thought of his words as they climbed, no breath to spare for talking during this bit. Life must be so turbulent for Julia. She had the funeral to arrang
e and attend, all eyes on her. The police were constantly–or so it seemed–asking her question after question.
On top of that, she had the thought that she must tell the children about their father and Daphne Sheridan. At least, the boys, maybe not Beatrice–and Bea must be one of her biggest worries, not speaking, storing up goodness knows what in her young mind. Most of all, the most tormenting thing of all, though must be the question of what had happened to Giles. Who had shot him? Edith wondered what help, if any Archie would be. She would follow Henry’s advice and go round to see Julia.
Chapter 18
The maid who answered the door in Albert Avenue, Chiswick was poker-faced. Brown could see her really looking down her nose at the inspector and himself. The thing was, she did actually have a long, sharp nose that reminded him of a picture in a book he’d had as a child, of a hook-nosed and sharp-jawed witch, wearing a big, black, pointed hat and stirring a cauldron.
“We’d like to see, your mistress, please, Miss.”
“Is Mrs. Sheridan expecting you,” a pause, “sir?”
Brown’s spine stiffened. This was a right one they had here and no mistake.
“Just tell her that it’s Chief Inspector Greene from North Yorkshire police and my sergeant.”
A muscle twitched in her jaw and her lips narrowed. “If you would just step inside, Inspector and you, Sergeant, I will tell Mrs. Sheridan you’re here.
Brown wondered if she’d actually taken in his own uniform. Greene was wearing a light coat and soft homburg hat and in fairness, it was the boss who had commanded the woman’ attention.
The house was beautiful, three stories, solid, Georgian town house. Inside, was a slight disappointment to him, though it was so out of his own range that his choosy attitude amused him. It was perfectly decorated and maintained.
He could smell the heavy sweetness of lilies and saw the huge crystal vase on a polished hall table. The colour scheme was a bit too austere for his taste, featuring a lot of beige and off-white, eau-de-nil, that was it, apparently, one of the fashionable colours of the moment. It all shouted conventionality at him. He sighed as the woman led them into a fairly small, perfectly square room off the corridor. It was more of the same and he gave a few seconds to redecorating it in his mind before taking in the disapproval emanating from Inspector Greene. What was wrong with him now?
“Come back to earth, lad. You look like you’re miles away, and stop gawping.”
The words were spoken in a low tone but took Brown’s attention, so he didn’t see the woman until she was virtually in front of him.
His first reaction was complete disbelief. Giles Etherington had preferred this woman to that…angel he was married to? It was unbelievable.
“Sit down, Inspector, Sergeant. I thought you might be coming. But, I have to say I really need you to be gone before my husband comes back from Chambers. He can’t find you here. Please.”
Her tone was urgent, but something about the way she spoke struck Brown as false. He knew he must not jump to conclusions just because of how much he admired Mrs. Etherington.
“We won’t take long, Mrs. Sheridan but to be quite honest, I can’t guarantee that we won’t have to speak to your husband at some point.”
He paused as the woman gasped and bowed her head.
“Surely, Mrs. Sheridan, you must see that in the circumstances…” Greene’s voice was as near to sympathetic, as it ever got but he was watching her closely too.
“If you speak to my husband, I will be in the greatest trouble you could imagine. I might be in actual danger for my life, and my marriage will most definitely be over.”
There was a pause and Brown felt the burden she was putting on them and he was angry.
“Are you saying that you’re afraid of your husband, Mrs. Sheridan?” Greene spoke.
Her face changed and a look of confusion crossed the slightly angular features. “I’d be afraid what he would do if he found out about…about my relationship with Giles, yes.”
Greene sighed and placed his hands on his thighs; he’d put his hat on the arm of the chair.
An air of disapproval filled the room and Brown was uneasy and at a loss. He knew the boss enough to know when he was angry, and he was angry now, maybe in a controlled way but angry.
Bill Brown was confused. He couldn’t make this woman out at all, but if she was genuinely frightened of her husband, didn’t she deserve a bit of sympathy? Or was the Inspector angry with the husband, not Daphne Sheridan at all? But, then a moment ago he’d felt the woman was toying with them.
“Have you not thought about leaving your husband, Mrs. Sheridan?”
The answer was instant and spoken in a flat tone. “I have nowhere to go.”
“No family,” Greene asked
She gave an unconvincing laugh. “You must be joking, Inspector. My mother’s reaction to any of this would be worse than John’s.”
A heavy silence descended again and Brown was uncomfortable.
“We need to ask you about your relationship with the late Mr. Etherington. I’m sorry if this is painful, but we need to talk to everyone in his life, particularly to those closest to him.”
Brown thought that the transformation in the woman was one of the most amazing things he’d ever witnessed. It was as though she came to life. That measured, dramatic attitude disappeared and she was like a young girl talking to her friends about her sweetheart.
“We met at a party and I knew instantly that everything that had happened to me before had just led up to this moment, this meeting. I don’t know if you ever…”
She giggled and Brown was embarrassed for her. How old was she? She was what his mother called immature. His mother just occasionally used the expression about him and his reaction was usually to tell her that he was surely entitled to be immature at his age.
“I don’t suppose you have actually, inspector. He was the one for me, the destined other side to my personality. I was meant to be with him, and if you’ve never felt that, you probably won’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”
Inspector Green interrupted them. “Yes, well Mrs. Sheridan, as you say I have probably no understanding of these matters.”
Brown wondered if the woman was even aware of the sarcasm. It wasn’t always easy to tell with the old boy. As for whether Inspector Greene had ever been in love or infatuated or whatever the woman was on about, well, that didn’t bear thinking about. Brown found he was feeling queasy at the very thought.
Greene continued. “The thing that’s really puzzling me about this whole affair, if you pardon me using the word here, Mrs. Sheridan is the timing of the thing. I mean when it started and most particularly…when it ended.”
She sat still and blinked a few times, rapidly.
Greene continued. “You see, Mrs. Etherington, is adamant…”
Then, she interrupted, no longer still, her hands busy, rolling the expensive looking rings around, pulling down the cuffs of the soft grey cardigan.
“Mrs. Etherington! I’m not concerned about what she says. What does she know? She might think she knew her husband. I beg to differ. She knew nothing at all about what he was really like, what his interests were, how unhappy he was stuck in the country with her.
“Parish council meetings and fruit and vegetable shows and village fetes. You should have heard him, Inspector Green, how he talked about that sort of thing. Giles was interested in much bigger things than trivial carryings-on in the sticks.”
She looked at Brown. “And you too, sergeant. You look like you just might understand. Believe me, he was more than ready to chuck all that, throw it over.
Brown felt a flush start at his jawbone and spread upwards and outwards over his face and neck. Damn it.
Greene allowed the silence to last. “That’s all as it well may be, Mrs. Sheridan, but Mrs. Etherington and not only she, I may add, believes that your relationship with Giles Etherington ended last year, shortly after his wife found out about you. Ar
e you telling me that they’re wrong, that it wasn’t over?”
She gave a laugh, an angry sound. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Inspector. Over and over again, it seems. We had to cool things between us for a while.
“We couldn’t just up sticks and go off together at that precise time, no. It’s not that easy, is it, to untangle things? There’s money, his business, scandal, what that would have done to his career. Not to mention, John or my mother.” As she mentioned her mother the corners of her mouth turned down.
“Also, I don’t know whether your enquiries have got you this far, Inspector, but Giles wanted to go into politics, run for election. It’s not out of the question, if you have a divorce behind you. Look at Mr. Moseley, for instance and others too, I believe. But, Giles said that it had to be handled very carefully. We couldn’t just run off together…” Her voice petered out.
Brown looked at her. He’d been staring at the notebook on his lap while she’d spoken. She looked vulnerable, her expression unsure, all the bluster of a few minutes ago, gone.
“Now, he’s dead and I have no hope. Nothing is going to change for me.”
Inspector Greene told him without preamble that they had another call to make before leaving London. He didn’t, however, deign to tell him where until Brown, whose geography of London was getting better, realised that they were heading back into the centre of the city.
“What did you make of that Sergeant? A right strange lass wouldn’t you say?”
“Well, sir, I thought so. But she seemed adamant that Mr. Etherington was going to leave his wife and go off with her.”
Greene nodded. “And the wife is just as adamant that all that business was over and done with. So either the wife didn’t know–and that wouldn’t be the first time in history that happened or her ladyship back there is lying through her teeth,”
Brown wanted to ask his boss what he thought and more pressingly, where they were going, but as usual, his best approach was to say nowt. His mother had a saying about two eyes and two ears and one mouth that she used to trot out whenever she thought he was butting in as a child when she’d had her cronies around for tea and cake. He reckoned this was one of those times when he should remember the saying.
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