Murders in the Blitz

by Julia Underwood

  Eve had no wish to go back to the terrible scene in the kitchen, but she knew that Emily would benefit greatly from a cup of strong, sweet tea. Eve patted the twin’s shoulder, her sympathy almost causing her own tears to flow, but the woman barely seemed to notice her presence.

  ‘I won’t be a moment, Emily. I’ll make some tea. Mrs Gough’s gone to call the police. She’ll be back soon.’

  Eve returned to the kitchen and managed to avoid the gore by walking to the left of the kitchen table to the sink. She tried not to look at Vera’s body, with its staring eyes and pale, fearful features and the blood, all that blood. Eve filled the kettle and set it on the hob to boil. She found that the rest of the tea things, the pot with tea leaves in it, cups and saucers, milk and sugar, were ready on the oil-cloth covered kitchen table, where someone had prepared them earlier. Rather than wait for the kettle to boil, Eve climbed the narrow stairs and found a blanket and a pillow for Emily in one of the bedrooms.

  Back in the sitting room, Emily was silent now, but tears still rolled down her cheeks. She was staring blindly into the fire as Eve put the blanket around her shoulders and the pillow behind her back. Dumbly Emily pulled the rug closer with a fist rigid with tension.

  ‘Lean back on the pillow, Emily,’ Eve said, ‘you’ll feel more comfortable. I’ll bring the tea in a minute.’

  She went back to the kitchen and, trying to ignore the stench and sight of the body, poured boiling water into the pot, stirred and set it on a tray. She was soon putting the tray on a side table next to the settee and filling a cup for Emily. The bereaved woman showed no sign of taking the tea, but groped in her cardigan sleeve for a handkerchief and blew her nose. Eve persuaded her to take a few sips of the drink, holding the cup to Emily’s mouth as if she were a sick child. She could hear Mrs Gough coming up the path to the cottage, speaking in a harsh whisper to a companion.

  Mabel Gough walked through the front door and came into the room with Doctor Russell following; carrying his leather bag.

  ‘The Police said I should get Dr Russell to come and ... you know.’

  Eve knew, of course, that the doctor was there to pronounce poor Vera dead. He already knew his way to the kitchen and left Mrs Gough with Eve and Emily in the sitting room while he examined Vera’s body.

  ‘What a terrible, terrible thing,’ said Mrs Gough. ‘Who could have done such a thing to poor Vera who’d never hurt a fly? Do you think it could’ve been one of those soldiers from the Hall? Some of them are quite deranged, they say.’

  Eve shook her head at this idea while Emily sat there, rocking back and forth, moaning softly. Poor woman, thought Eve, she’d lost her fiancé in the first war and now her twin sister − she is truly alone.

  The doctor returned to the front room and nodded with solemn authority. ‘Well, that’s pretty clear,’ he said. ‘I’d better wait here until the police and the Coroner’s people arrive. Mrs Gough, would you be good enough to go down to my surgery and tell Maggie I won’t be in till much later? There’ll be people turning up for surgery by now. I suppose you’d better tell them what’s happened, but we don’t want them coming up here to take a look. Try to discourage them, would you?’

  ‘Don’t worry, doctor,’ said Mrs Gough, looking relieved at an excuse to get away from the misery in the cottage. ‘I’ll make sure nobody comes up here being nosy. Once the police are here they’ll keep ‘em away.’

  ‘Thank you.’ By now the doctor had sat beside Emily on the sofa and was chafing her hands between his own. ‘Come on, Miss Gossard, drink some of this tea, it’ll make you feel better.’

  Emily turned her face towards him, her eyes brimming with ever more tears waiting to fall. ‘Better?’ she said. ‘How can I ever feel better?’

  ‘No, my dear. Maybe not better, but you have to keep going. It is what Vera would want. You’re going to have to be brave. The police will be here in a minute and they’ll want to know if you saw anything; if you have any idea who may have done this terrible thing to your poor sister.’

  For the first time, Eve felt compelled to say something. ‘Was anyone here this morning, Emily? Did anyone come to the house?’

  Emily turned those drowning eyes to Eve and gulped. Once she started to speak she seemed unable to stop. ‘I went out. To the shop. Vera was getting breakfast ready. We’d run out of bread and I chatted to Agnes, Mrs Forbes, for a bit. Fred Gardiner was there when I arrived, but he soon left. Had to catch the bus to Highston I expect. I was in the shop about ten minutes; Agnes’s having trouble with her lumbago, it’s giving her a lot of pain and I recommended some things what’ve helped Vera and me. On the way home I bumped into the Reverend, but he was in a hurry, so I didn’t keep him. Then I came in, into the kitchen and there she was...’ Emily’s voice rose to a painful screech and Eve could see that another outpouring of sorrow was imminent. It seemed to be the best thing for the poor woman at the moment.

  When she had calmed down the doctor patted Emily’s hand while Eve stoked the fire and then the three sat in gloomy silence, punctuated by the occasional sob from Emily, waiting for the police to arrive.

  *

  Two police cars and the Coroner’s van pulled up outside the twins’ cottage. One contained the Inspector with his sergeant in the driver’s seat and the other a team of three investigators with their equipment. It crossed Eve’s mind that it was beginning to look as if Little Barrington had become the murder capital of the county. Of course, the arrival of the convoy of cars brought gawkers out of the neighbouring cottages and they began to gather in the road, speculating on events, chattering like a flock of starlings. Stern orders were required from the constable, the one whom Eve had met before, to keep them away from the cottage and back on the pavement on the other side of the street. Eve watched from the doorway as the police took wooden trestles from one of the vehicles and placed them in front of the house to keep people from coming too close.

  ‘Well, Miss Duncan,’ said the Inspector as he emerged from his car, putting on his cap, ‘we meet again. I’m beginning to think you may be bringing bad luck to our little community.’

  ‘I do hope not, Inspector. I just always seem to be in the wrong place.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose this incident has anything to do with the woman you found up in the woods. Who is this poor lady? Who could have done this to her? Do we have any idea if she had any enemies?’

  Eve had no immediate answers to any of this string of questions. She explained, as she led him into the cottage, that she hadn’t known anyone in the village for long.

  Clearly Inspector Grafton had been briefed on what had happened on the way here from Highston. He followed Eve in and stood with her at the doorway to the kitchen, surveying the murder scene and watched as his investigative team took flash photographs of Vera’s body before it was lifted onto a stretcher and carried to the van. The vehicle, with the coroner’s man driving, hurried to town and the mortuary. Even though it was clear how Vera had died there would still have to be a post-mortem. The time of death was also known to within a few minutes because there was no more than half an hour between Emily’s last sight of Vera alive in the kitchen and her return from the village shop to discover the grizzly scene.

  The investigators continued their work in the kitchen, dusting surfaces for finger prints. They also examined the back door which had stood open throughout. It appeared that the murderer had entered and left through that way into the garden. There were faint smudges of blood on the lino between the body and the door, and on the bricks of the step outside. It occurred to Eve that the murderer would almost certainly have had blood on their clothes. Later they would want to find out if the knife was one that belonged to the twins or if the murderer had brought it with him.

  Eve took the Inspector through to the living room where Emily still sat immobile on the sofa with the doctor by her side. A sergeant with a notebook followed them in and sat quietly to the side of the room, making a record of the proceedings.

&n
bsp; The surviving Miss Gossard was silent now. The tears had ceased to flow, and she sat upright and stiff on the settee. The sweet tea had done little to delay the inevitable onslaught of shock, but the extreme torrent of grief had abated for a while.

  ‘Doctor, don’t you think Emily would be better lying down on her bed? She’s had a terrible shock,’ said Eve.

  ‘I agree,’ said Dr. Russell. ‘Let’s take her up there now.’ He stood and prepared to assist Emily from her stupor and on to her feet.

  ‘I’m sorry, Doctor,’ said the Inspector, ‘but I need to ask Miss Gossard a few questions first.’

  ‘I really don’t think she’ll be able to answer just now. She’s very upset.’

  Emily jerked her head up, as if she’d just realized that a conversation was going on around her. She spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. ‘No, I’ll answer your questions now. I have all the rest of my life to lie down in my room, now I’m alone.’ Tears swam in her eyes again and she grasped the damp handkerchief in her fist and wiped them away. ‘Please, Inspector, ask me anything you have to.’

  Inspector Grafton used the same gentle tones that he had when talking to the children after the discovery of the bones. He sat in an armchair near the fire and leant forward towards Emily as if they were having a normal, friendly conversation.

  ‘Did you see anyone in the road when you went off to buy the bread, Miss Gossard? Were there many people about?’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir,’ she murmured at first and then her voice speeded up and strengthened as she remembered what she’d seen. ‘There were plenty of people out and about. I said good morning to them as I walked down the hill. There were mothers climbing the hill after dropping their children off at school and people on their way to the bus and to work, Mrs Metcalf was one of them. There were a couple of soldiers from the Hall out for a walk – one of them was trying to use crutches.’ Emily paused a moment to blow her nose. ‘Then later, on the way back, I met Reverend Groome coming down the hill, but he didn’t have time to stop and chat and then there was Mabel, Mrs Gough and I asked her in for a cup of tea. Vera and I were late for breakfast this morning and I’d forgotten the bread. Mabel and I came in through the front door and into the kitchen and there she was...’ Emily’s words trailed off, her distress colouring her voice with horror.

  ‘Had the back door been open when you left the house, Miss Gossard?’

  ‘Yes, we opened it first thing, when we came down. It was such a lovely morning and the place needed an airing.’

  ‘And when you came home and found Vera, did you walk over to the door?’

  ‘Oh, no, when I walked in and saw her I knelt straight down to see if I could help her. But there was nothing... nothing I could do, she was gone.’ Emily’s voice broke with sobs. She shuddered with such aching pain that Eve could feel it transmitting to her own body. What a terrible thing to happen to such a sweet, innocent woman.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emily Gossard had repeated her story to the police inspector in a voice that trembled with emotion, but she was perfectly lucid on the details she’d told Eve and the doctor earlier. She hadn’t been out of the house for more than half an hour. Before she left for the shop Vera had been alive and cheerfully making breakfast and when Emily returned, Vera’s body, stabbed with a carving knife and surrounded by that lake of blood, was stretched out on the kitchen floor.

  Eve couldn’t help admiring the bravery with which Emily told her story; she had a backbone of steel under that soft, fluffy exterior. The sergeant wrote down everything she said and, when the questioning had finished and there was nothing more to be said, the inspector rose to leave.

  ‘I am so very sorry for your loss, Miss Gossard. We’ll do our utmost to find out who did this to your sister.’

  He left the room with the sergeant trailing behind and Eve followed them into the hall. A policeman was still working in the gory kitchen, quietly looking for evidence.

  ‘You don’t think this had any connection to the woman found in the woods do you, Inspector?’ asked Eve.

  He turned and his eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘No, why on earth would you think that? The previous murder took place at least a year ago. What could it possibly have to do with this?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Eve, ‘I just wondered.’

  As the police stepped into their cars and drove away, Eve stood at the front gate, watching. The doctor joined her a few moments later where she stood gazing thoughtfully into the distance.

  ‘I’ve managed to get Emily to lie down in her room and given her a sedative. She’ll be out of it for a few hours. I’ll come back and see her later, but I must get off to the surgery now, my patients will wonder what’s happened to me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, doctor, I’ll watch her. I’m sure Mrs Gough will be here, as well as some of her other friends. I have to go back to the house soon, Grace will be wondering where I’ve got to. I was only supposed to be walking the children to school.’

  After the doctor left, Eve remained in the parlour, waiting until ten minutes later Mabel Gough came back to the cottage and agreed to stay for a while.

  ‘The poor dear, of course I’ll be here for her in case she wakes up, we mustn’t leave her all alone. Don’t worry, I’ll get someone else to sit with her later. You get off home, you’ve done enough.’

  Eve left the cottage, admitting that she was glad to get away. She ran up the hill to tell Grace what had happened.

  ‘Oh my God!’ cried Grace, sitting down heavily on a kitchen chair when Eve told her the terrible news. Tears started in her wide eyes. ‘Poor Vera. Why on earth would someone want to murder a harmless spinster?’

  ‘I have no idea. It seems so unnecessarily brutal,’ said Eve, shuddering. ‘I’ve never seen so much blood.’

  ‘Do you think it has anything to do with the other murder?’

  ‘The inspector doesn’t think so, but I think it might. Do you remember last week, the evening after the inquest, when we were in the pub?’ Eve asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, we were talking about the body in the wood, Persephone I call her, and saying that no-one could think of anyone from the village who isn’t here any more. I glanced at Vera, who was listening, and she looked as if she had something to say, as if she wanted to contradict us. But then Emily wanted to go home and Vera didn’t have a chance to say whatever it was.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘No I didn’t notice that.’

  ‘I thought at the time she was looking at Fred Gardiner,’ Eve went on, ‘as if she wanted to ask him something. But then she couldn’t and the twins left. Fred looked very cross after that, as if he’d been upset about something.’

  ‘Fred always gets a bit grumpy when he’s had a few. He sent Doris home, didn’t he? I thought he wanted her to go and get some rest because of her pregnancy, but perhaps it was something else.’

  Eve started to mash the potatoes for the top of the shepherds’ pies they’d have for supper later and didn’t say any more. I need to find out more about Fred, she was thinking. What happened to his first wife? No-one seemed to talk about that. Did he have a grudge against Vera so powerful that he would stab her with a carving knife? He seemed such a nice, cheerful man, but perhaps that jovial veneer hid a much more sinister nature.

  *

  The sisters ate a simple lunch of bread and cheese, and fruit from the garden. They planned meals for the next few days, struggling to dream up a varied diet for the children. Luckily none of the refugees were too fussy and they always had plenty of bread, potatoes and milk to fill them up with. Grace’s rice puddings and fruit pies were always a favourite and there was plenty of milk for custard even if it had to be sweetened with artificial stuff. The sisters were so occupied with their planning that Eve completely forgot to ask Grace some of the questions that bothered her.

  Eve worried that the children would find out about Vera’s horrible death through the village gossip mill. She wanted to explain what had happene
d before they had a chance to hear it from more vividly embroidered sources. The news was bound to upset them as they knew Vera, even if they weren’t particularly interested in her, and they might feel that murder and sudden death were getting a bit too close to home.

  In the afternoon, after helping Grace tidy up the kitchen and the living room, she set off down the hill towards the school again. On the way she met one of the villagers, who seemed determined to engage her in a lengthy interrogation about Vera’s death, news of which had circulated widely. It took Eve a few minutes to shake her off.

  ‘Do excuse me,’ she said, ‘I have to collect the children from school. I don’t want them to wander off and hear the news from someone else.’

  The wooden barriers were still up outside the twins’ cottage and would remain there for several days. This was already a source of complaint even though the obstacles didn’t cause much inconvenience. It was still possible to walk or drive past the house without difficulty. Mrs Metcalf, June’s charlady, stopped Eve outside the twins’ cottage and began to interrogate her.

  ‘Was you there, Miss Duncan? Did you see the body?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Metcalf, I can’t stop, the children...’

  Eve was beginning to become impatient with all this questioning and started to move away when the shrill sound of screaming reached her ears from farther down the hill near the school and churchyard. It sounded like the voice of a child.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, preparing to run, ‘I have to go. There’s something going on down by the school.’

  Without waiting for Mrs Metcalf’s reply, Eve dashed off and ran the remainder of the two hundred yards to the school gates. But before she reached them she realised that the sound was coming from the churchyard on the other side of the main street. She crossed the road and stepped through the lych-gate, under the climbing rose, and there, beneath the shadows cast by the spreading yew tree’s branches, sprawled a slight figure with a small crowd of children surrounding it. Daisy, the evacuee girl, was screaming her head off.