The Devil's Feather

by Minette Walters

  “Something else that was unusual,” I went on, “was that several of the fuse cartridges had been removed from the electricity box. If Jess hadn’t been here, I’d have spent my first night in darkness because none of the lights in the bedrooms worked. It was only when she checked the box that we discovered why. They were laid in a row on the top of the case…and as soon as they were plugged back in the lights came on.”

  Madeleine played with her tissue.

  “Do you know who might have done that? The police are wondering if an electrician did some work. If so, how did he get in? They’re very keen to find anyone who’s had access to the house in the last six to nine months. They’re wondering if your mother let him in…but why would he leave her in darkness?”

  She shook her head.

  “The really strange thing,” I said, reaching into the sink to turn on the tap and drown my fag end, “is that the valve on the oil tank was turned off but the gauge was reading full. And that doesn’t make any sense, because Burton’s last delivery was at the end of November…and your mother didn’t go into a nursing-home until the third week in January. It meant she had no hot water or cooking facilities for the last two months she was here.” I paused. “But how could that have happened without you knowing? Did you not visit her during that time?”

  Madeleine found her voice at last. “I couldn’t,” she said rather curtly as if it was a criticism she’d faced before. “My son was ill and I was helping Nathaniel prepare for an exhibition. In any case, Peter came in regularly so I would have expected to hear from him if anything was wrong.”

  “But not from Jess,” I said matter-of-factly. “She’d already written to tell you that she’d withdrawn her support from Lily.”

  “I don’t recall that.”

  “I’m sure you do,” I said, taking a copy of Jess’s letter from my pocket. “Do you want to remind yourself of what she said. No? Then I’ll do the honours.” I isolated a passage. “ ‘Whatever’s gone before, your mother needs your help now, Madeleine. Please do not go on ignoring her. For a number of reasons, I can no longer visit, but it’s in your interests to come down and organize some care for her. Without support, she cannot stay at Barton House alone. She’s more confused than Peter realizes but if you allow him or anyone else to decide on her competence you might regret it.’ ” I looked up. “All of which was true, wasn’t it?”

  She abandoned denial in favour of protest. “And why should I believe it when Mummy’s GP was saying the opposite? If you knew Jess better, you’d know that stirring up trouble is her favourite pastime…particularly between me and my mother. I wasn’t going to take her word against Peter’s.”

  I showed surprise. “But you and Nathaniel drove down as soon as you received this letter…so you must have given it some credence.”

  There was a brief hesitation. “That’s not true.”

  I went on as if she hadn’t spoken: “You sent Nathaniel to find out from Jess what ‘regret’ meant while you stayed here and tried to prise it out of your mother. Did she tell you? Or did you have to wait for Nathaniel to come back with the bad news about the power of attorney?”

  I watched her mouth thin to a narrow line. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. The first I heard about the solicitor being in charge was when Mummy was taken into care.”

  “That’s good,” I said encouragingly, “because when I told Inspector Bagley about the utilities being turned off, he said it sounded as if Lily had been subjected to a terror campaign. He’s wondering if it had something to do with MacKenzie.” I paused. “I told him it couldn’t have done-MacKenzie was in Iraq between November and January-but, as Bagley said, if not MacKenzie, who? What kind of person deprives a confused old lady of water, light, heat and food?”

  Perhaps I should have predicted her answer-Jess certainly did-but I honestly hadn’t realized how slow-witted Madeleine was. The old adage about tangled webs might have been written for her. She was so caught up in the knowledge of what she and Nathaniel had done that the obvious answer-“There was nothing wrong with this house when I prepared it for let”-escaped her.

  The intelligent response would have been surprised disbelief-“a terror campaign?”-and a finger pointed straight at Lily and her Alzheimer’s: “It must have been Mummy who did it. You know what old people are like. They’re always worrying about the cost of living.” Instead, she offered me her pre-prepared “culprit.” In some ways it was laughable. I could almost hear her brain whirring as she produced the “line” that she and Nathaniel had rehearsed.

  “There’s only one person in Winterbourne Barton who’s that disturbed,” she said, looking me straight in the eye. “I tried to warn you but you wouldn’t listen.”

  Her eagerness to implicate Jess was faintly disgusting. She looked pleased, as if I’d finally asked a question that she knew the answer to. “Jess?” I suggested.

  “Of course. She was obsessed with my mother. She was always creating problems so that Mummy would have to call her up. Her favourite trick was to put the Aga out because she was the only one who knew how to relight it.” She leaned forward. “It’s not her fault-a psychiatrist friend says she probably has Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy-but it never occurred to me she’d go as far as turning off the water and the electricity.”

  I smiled doubtfully. “So why didn’t she follow through?”

  “On what?”

  “Milking the benefits. Munchausen by proxy is an attention-seeking syndrome. It needs an audience. Sufferers make other people ill so that they can present themselves in a caring light.”

  “That’s exactly what she did. She wanted Mummy to be grateful to her.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not the victim who’s the audience-victims tend to be babies and toddlers who can’t speak for themselves-it’s the sympathy and admiration of neighbours and doctors that sufferers want.”

  Annoyance hardened her eyes. “I’m not an expert. I’m merely repeating what a psychiatrist told me.”

  “Who’s never met Jess, and doesn’t know that she’s so reluctant to attract attention to herself that hardly anyone in Winterbourne Barton knows her.”

  “You don’t know her either,” she snapped. “It was Mummy’s attention she wanted-her undivided attention-and she lost interest as soon as the Alzheimer’s took over. She was happy being the constant companion but she wasn’t going to play nursemaid. That’s what that letter was about-” she jerked her chin towards the piece of paper-“shuffling off the responsibility as soon as it became arduous.”

  “What’s wrong with that? She wasn’t even related to Lily.”

  There was the shortest of hesitations. “Then she had no business to insist on Mummy being sectioned. Why was it done in such a hurry? What was Jess trying to hide?”

  “Peter told me it was social services who ordered it, and they did it for her own safety. It was a temporary measure while they tried to locate you and her solicitor. Jess wasn’t involved…except to give them your phone number and the name of the solicitor.”

  “That’s Jess’s story. It doesn’t mean it’s true. You should ask yourself why Mummy had to be silenced so abruptly…and why Jess was so keen to accuse everyone else of neglecting her. If that’s not attention-seeking, I don’t what is.”

  If you repeat a lie often enough people start to believe it-it’s a truism that’s seared into the brains of tyrants and spin doctors-but of all Madeleine’s lies, the most pernicious was her use of “Mummy.” She used it to paint a picture of innocent love that didn’t exist, and I was amazed at how many people found it charming. Most of those who condemned Jess as unnatural for hanging pictures of her dead family on her walls never questioned whether Madeleine’s relationship with Lily was healthy and close.

  “But Lily was neglected, Madeleine. As far as I can make out, she lived here for seven weeks in the most appalling conditions until Jess found her half-dead beside the fishpond. Peter went away…the surgery safety net didn’t work…the neighbo
urs weren’t interested…and you stayed as far away as possible.” I took out another cigarette and rolled it between my fingers. “Or claim you did.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  “Only that I find it hard to believe you didn’t keep tabs on what was going on.” I tucked the cigarette in my mouth and lit it. “Weren’t you and Lily close? You always call her ‘Mummy.’ The only other middle-aged woman I know who does that phones her mother every day and visits at least once a week.”

  Her eyes narrowed to unattractive slits at being called middle-aged but she chose to ignore it. “Of course I phoned her. She told me everything was fine. I realize now it wasn’t true, but I didn’t at the time.”

  I smiled doubtfully. “It must upset you, though. I’d be mortified if my mother didn’t feel able to tell me she was in trouble. I can just about understand why she wouldn’t ask strangers for help…although she seems to have tried by going to the village. But her daughter? Wouldn’t she have been straight on the phone to you as soon as the water failed?”

  “You should ask Jess that question. She was always the first person Mummy called in a crisis. Why didn’t she do anything?”

  “Who was the second?”

  Madeleine frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Who did your mother phone when Jess wasn’t available? You?”

  “I was too far away.”

  “So Jess turfed out every single time. For how long? Twelve years? And before that her father? Was either of them ever paid?”

  “It wasn’t a question of payment. They did it because they wanted to.”

  “Why? Because they were so fond of Lily?”

  “I’ve no idea what their reasons were. I always found it rather sad…as if they couldn’t get over the class barrier. Perhaps they felt they had to follow in Jess’s grandmother’s steps and play servant to the big house.”

  I gave a snort of laughter. “Have you ever actually been to Barton Farm, Madeleine? The house is marginally smaller than this, but it’s in a lot better repair. At a rough guess, and with all the land she has, I’d say Jess’s estate is worth two or three times your mother’s. If she ever sold up, she’d be a millionairess. Why on earth would someone like that want to play servant to impoverished gentry?”

  She smiled faintly. “You’re assuming she owns the property.”

  “I’m not assuming anything. I know it for a fact. I believe you do, too.” I took a thoughtful puff of my cigarette. “But why does it matter to you so much that everyone should think she’s a tenant?” I went on curiously. “Does it stick in your throat that her family built on their successes while yours frittered theirs away?”

  As a lure, it almost worked. “They wouldn’t have anything if it hadn’t been for-” She clamped her mouth shut suddenly.

  I tapped more ash into the sink to ratchet up her irritation. “You’re lucky she’s so self-effacing. If Winterbourne Barton knew she was the richest woman in the valley, you wouldn’t get a look-in. They’d be queueing up to lick her arse.”

  If looks could kill, I’d have had a dagger in my chest. “There wouldn’t be room,” she snarled. “They’d have to get you out of the way first. Everyone knows you’re her latest conquest.”

  My eyes watered as I choked on some smoke. “Do you mean her latest fuck? I might have thought about it if she wasn’t shagging Peter every night. Wouldn’t you say that’s a fairly good indication that she prefers cocks to cunts?”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Why?” I murmured in surprise. “Because I said she shags blokes? Surely Nathaniel’s told you what a good a lay she is? I gather they went at it like rabbits before you muscled in on the act. He’s down here all the time, trying to resurrect the good old days. He was even here the night Jess found Lily.”

  A flicker of something showed in her eyes. Fear? She looked away before I could decide. “That’s rubbish.”

  “Then who turned the utilities back on before Lily’s solicitior and social services came in?”

  It was like pressing the “on” button. As long as I fed her questions she’d prepared for, she could produce her rehearsed answers. “Jess, of course,” she said confidently. “She was the only one who knew Mummy had collapsed. Everything she did was designed to cover her tracks. She could have phoned for an ambulance or put Mummy back to bed herself and called a doctor…but instead she drove her to the farm and waited till the morning to bring in social services. Why did she do that if it wasn’t to give herself time to put things straight at Barton House?”

  “It was too cold to wait for an ambulance, so Jess took Lily back to the farm and called the surgery as soon as she got there. A locum turned up an hour later-by which time your mother was cleaned, fed, warm and fast asleep-and he advised Jess to leave her where she was until the morning. I thought you knew all this.”

  “Why at the farm, though? Why not here?”

  “Because it would have meant carrying your mother fifty yards just to get her to the back door, and she couldn’t see anything because none of the outside lights were working,” I said patiently. “Instead, she drove the Land Rover onto the lawn and lifted Lily into it. Her first plan was to take Lily to hospital herself, but as soon as your mother was in the warmth of the cab, and wrapped in the dogs’ blanket, she perked up and asked for food.” I eyed Madeleine curiously. “Peter told me all this within a week of my arrival. Did he not tell you? I thought you were such friends.”

  “Of course he did,” she snapped, “but he’s only repeating Jess’s story. He doesn’t know it for a fact because he wasn’t here.”

  I shrugged. “Then what did the locum say in the messages he left on your answerphone? Or social services? Did they give different explanations?”

  “I didn’t listen to them all. The only one that mattered was Mummy’s solicitor saying she’d been taken into care…and I responded to that as soon as I got back from holiday.”

  “So you didn’t hear the message that Jess left at twelve-thirty to say your mother was at the farm? The locum was with her when she did it. She told you you had twelve hours to take charge before the surgery alerted social services.” I folded my arms and watched her closely. “She gave you every chance, Madeleine, but you didn’t take it.”

  “How could I? I was away.”

  “Nathaniel wasn’t.”

  “That’s not true. Nathaniel wasn’t in the flat either. He took our son to visit his parents in Wales. It’s something he does every year. Ask my in-laws if you don’t believe me.”

  “It’s quite easy to pick up messages from a distance…and most of Wales is no farther from Dorset than London is. At a guess, it was you who turned the utilities off and Nathaniel who raced down here to put them back on before social services came in the next morning.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said, her breath hissing angrily through clenched teeth.

  “No one else had a reason to make Lily’s life miserable.”

  “Jess did.”

  “I can’t see it,” I said. “I don’t think the police will either. She wouldn’t have written to you if it meant you’d find out she’d been mistreating your mother.”

  “What reason did I have?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “At first I thought you were trying to coerce her into reassigning the power of attorney…but now I think it was straightforward cruelty. You punished her because she wasn’t mentally competent to do what you wanted…and then found you enjoyed it. Simple as that. It’s why most sadists do what they do.”

  She stood up abruptly. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

  “I suggest you do,” I said mildly, “otherwise you’ll be hearing it from Inspector Bagley. So far I’ve told him very little, but only because your mother didn’t die. If she had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation…you’d be at the police station answering questions about murder. You’ll just answer different ones if you walk out now.”

  �
��No one’s going to believe you.”

  “I wouldn’t rely on that. It just needs a chink of doubt.” I tossed my still-smoking butt into the sink. “Your problem’s the Aga. The Burton’s delivery notes prove it was off for two months. But if Jess had been responsible for that she’d have relit it…because she’s the only one who knows how.”

  Madeleine shook with suppressed anger. “I suppose she put you up to this. She’s always hated me…always told lies about me.”

  “Is that right? I thought lies were your specialty.” I ticked my fingers. “Predatory lesbian…stalker…obsessive…mentally ill…servant mentality…tenant farmer…syphilitic grandmother…hates men…only has sex with dogs. What have I left out? Oh, yes. Your grandfather had a yen for maids and raped every poor girl who entered his service, including Jess’s grandmother.”

  She looked shell-shocked. “I’ll sue you for slander if you repeat that.”

  “The bit about the rape? Is that not true? I thought he handed over fifteen hundred acres in compensation after his son was born? It was cheap at the price…the land cost him nothing and his reputation would have been in ruins if Jess’s grandmother had gone to the police.”

  “It’s all lies,” she hissed. “There was no saying who the father was. Mrs. Derbyshire was a tramp…she slept with anyone and everyone.”

  I shrugged. “It’s easily proved by a DNA test. The closest match will be Jess and your mother.”

  “I won’t allow it.”

  “It’s not your permission to give. Lily handed that right to her solicitor.” I smiled at her. “It’ll make a grand story. Skeletons rattle in Wright closet as DNA proves link. Abuse jumps a generation as failed artist’s wife seeks to silence mother. Career scrounger cites class as justification for sadism…”

  Jess had predicted she’d take a swipe at me if I provoked her enough-“Lily was afraid of Madeleine, and her kid’s completely terrified”-so I should have been expecting it. But she still managed to take me by surprise. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m really quite naïve about the levels of violence that some people are prepared to use. I shouldn’t be-I’ve seen too much of it in Africa and the Middle East-but my experience of war is different. I’ve always been a bystander, and never a participant.