Gone Away

by Hazel Holt

  ‘No.’ I said quickly. ‘No, I would have felt the same.’

  ‘I’d been down here for about a month when I saw her in the town and found out that she lived and worked here. It was a dreadful shock, a horrible coincidence. I used to see her driving around in that big, powerful car ... I never told anyone about Lucy and David. It was too private and too painful. I tried to lead a normal life. I joined things, I kept busy.’ She gave me a quizzical look. ‘I know you all thought that I was bossy and interfering, but all that organising and managing was what kept me sane. That, and the horses.’

  ‘Oh Marjorie, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I used to feed my anger. Several times I went into that place and made enquiries about houses, just to see her and speak to her. She didn’t recognise me. We never met over the case and Fraser is quite a common name, I suppose. So, you see, when all this blew up over Jamie and Andrew and I saw how she was going to ruin two more lives...’

  The mare was restless again, and shifted in its stall. Marjorie got up, put her arm around its neck and spoke quietly and soothingly to it.

  ‘After she had gone on about Jamie, she began to sneer at Andrew, called him half-witted and other things. So then I told her about Lucy and how she had killed her...’

  Marjorie had turned to face me, and now she was dreadfully pale.

  ‘Do you know, she simply didn’t remember the accident, she had totally forgotten about it ... People sometimes say, “I don’t know what came over me” – and that’s really how it feels. Something came over me, a feeling so strong that it was almost tangible. She’d turned away, she was picking up her handbag to go, not bothering, not caring. I took up that knife and killed her. I was quite calm, I did know what I was doing. I knew just where to put in the knife so that she would die instantly. I know about these things and, as you say, I’m tall, so I could manage exactly the right angle from above.

  ‘I wonder, did I really go there that morning intending to kill her? I had my alibi. It’s easy to leave the hunt for a while and then rejoin it, no one misses you, they’re too absorbed, themselves. Everyone thinks you’ve simply fallen behind or taken another line across country. I left no finger-prints – I was wearing riding gloves – and there were no tracks because I left Satin tied up at the back. I didn’t know, of course, that someone saw me ride away. I honestly don’t know if it was in my mind all the time...’

  She turned away and leaned her face against the mare’s neck for a moment. Then she turned and said, almost briskly, ‘I knew that this would be only a temporary respite – time to settle things properly. I’ve written a letter – it’s with my solicitor. I’ll take the horses to the livery stables this morning. I want Jamie to have them – I’ve left him everything – well, there’s no one else now. Actually, Sheila, would you do something for me? Would you go and see Jamie and try and explain to him? I can’t, somehow, put it all in a letter, and I would like him to know how it was. I would like him to think of me, well – you know...’

  ‘Yes, of course I will.’

  Jamie and Andrew would be amazed and sad and grateful, but, secure at last in their little world, they would have no real idea of what they had meant to her, and perhaps that was just as well.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t ask you, but can you give me a day? I mean, I know you will have to tell the police about this conversation, but if you could give me time to leave things as they should be.’

  ‘I have to go to that meeting in Dulverton this afternoon,’ I said carefully, ‘and I have an appointment with my accountant tomorrow morning...’

  ‘Thank you, Sheila. There is one other thing. It’s Tessa. She was Lucy’s dog – just a puppy when she died – and I don’t want to have her put down. Would you mind taking her? She’s quite obedient and she gets on all right with that Westy of yours.’

  Tears that I hadn’t shed for the human actors in this drama came into my eyes, stupid, sentimental tears, but none the less real for that. I bent down and patted Tessa to give myself a moment to recover.

  ‘Of course I will...’

  Marjorie picked up the dog’s lead, which had been lying over the stable partition, and clipped it on to its collar.

  ‘Right, then.’ Her voice was brisk and businesslike, the Marjorie I knew – or thought I knew. ‘Come along, then, I’ll put her in your car and then she’ll know she has to go with you.’

  We walked together to the car.

  ‘What a beautiful day!’ she said as we came into the sunshine.

  I opened the car door and she put Tessa in the back, stroked the dog’s head and shut the door.

  ‘Marjorie...’ I said uncertainly.

  She opened the driver’s door of the car.

  ‘Thank you for everything,’ she said. ‘Good-bye.’

  I drove out of the gate and down the lane, between the clusters of primroses and celandines. In the back of the car the spaniel was making little whining noises.

  ‘It’s all right, Tessa,’ I said. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’

  END