by Caron Allan
Dottie couldn’t help a little frown as she interrupted with, ‘Oh I really don’t think it was quite that bad...’
‘Oh it was, it was! He said it was tantamount to infidelity and that he is disgusted with me. And now he’s taken the children to stay with his mother in Sussex.’ Miranda broke into floods of tears, her face buried in her hands. ‘He says when I’ve come to my senses, I can go down to Horsted Keynes and beg his forgiveness. Until then I can’t see the children, or... And my father...’
At this point, Penny entered the room, tying her wrap about her as she came.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Between sobs, Miranda poured it all out again. Margaret came in, and with unconcealed interest listened to the tale as she brought in Penny’s breakfast and some limp pale toast for Miranda, who now finished what she had been about to say. ‘And Daddy says I’ve brought shame on our family, and that I’ve made a disgraceful exhibition of myself over this whole episode. He said I did it fifteen years ago and I’ve done it again, and that I should never have come back from India.’ She turned to Penny, her arms thrown out in a dramatic plea for help. ‘Oh darling, I can’t go back to Mummy and Daddy. Please, please, please can I stay here with you? Otherwise I don’t know where I shall go.’
She collapsed into a chair, sobbing. Dottie almost rolled her eyes. Thank goodness I’m going home tomorrow, she thought.
In London, Inspector William Hardy had just returned from Scotland for the second time in ten days. At least he was finally making progress with the case. He turned his latch-key in the lock and pushed open the front door of his lodgings. His boot stepped onto the mat, scuffing a quantity of envelopes that lay there from the late delivery. He stooped to pick them up. Three items were for the other lodgers, two were for himself: a letter from his sister, postmarked Derbyshire, and a picture post-card of the south of France. He frowned over this, standing there in the open doorway to look at it. It was definitely addressed to him. There was no return address. He read the short greeting on the left side of the back:
‘Dearest William,
We arrived safely. Thank you so much, dear boy, for your help in getting to the train on time. The weather here is very nice, and the boarding house is pleasant with a lovely view of the harbour. Take care of yourself dear, love to Dottie. Fond regards,
Your devoted Uncle Bill and Auntie Anna.’
After the signature there followed several large Xs. For a moment he stood there dumbfounded. Then a fellow lodger arrived and shoved past to get into the house, and William came to life again, walking upstairs to his room. By the time he unlocked his door, he had a broad smile on his face. Then he read his sister’s letter.
The three women lunched at the Reginald Parfitts. It was an invitation that had been issued several days earlier, before Miranda had so completely offended Reggie. Dottie felt vaguely surprised that neither Reggie nor Deirdre had managed to think of an excuse to cancel the arrangement. She was even more surprised that it was Penny who drove them in her own little car, and it was just as well for the fine summer weather had given way to rain, as it so often did.
Dottie was relieved to see Reggie looking a little better than the previous day, if still noticeably ‘off’ with Miranda. He greeted Dottie as though she were his favourite person in the whole world, and even Deirdre seemed so glad to see her, squeezing her hand and saying with particular emphasis how glad she was to see Dottie, and that they would miss her terribly when she went back home.
While it was just the ladies, no one mentioned what had happened at the Maynards’ dinner, and conversation was dull, dull, dull. Dottie would never have believed Reggie’s continual waffle about lupins would be the most interesting thing about a lunch party, when he finally left his study and came to join them at the table. Time and again Deirdre tried to head him off, but then it was as if she just ran out of energy and let him carry on. Dottie was almost grateful to him for his stubborn way of turning every topic of conversation to his favourite plants. It was rapidly becoming a subject she knew a great deal about. And with Penny smirking and simpering but saying nothing of interest, and Miranda still wallowing in her disgrace, and constantly apologising for her gaffe, there was nothing much worth listening to, as far as Dottie was concerned.
That Reggie was embarrassed and uncomfortable with Miranda in his home was clear to Dottie, and she felt sorry for him, as Miranda still treated him with no consideration at all. She had to know it was making him uncomfortable to continually refer to the incident of two days earlier as if it were a humorous anecdote. For Reggie it was still too recent an embarrassment. For about the sixth time, Dottie thought, why hadn’t Deirdre cancelled the invitation? It was a mystery.
They endured a most uncomfortable afternoon. Dottie was looking forward to getting back to Penny’s and packing her things for her journey home in the morning. She longed to get away from all these people with their secrets and their past loves and hates. Gervase had promised to take her into the railway station at Nottingham so that she could get an express to London. She fully expected to be home just after lunch.
She sighed under her breath and forced herself to smile. Only another twenty-four hours and she would be gone. Though the thought of leaving Gervase had her almost inclined to cancel her plans. It was odd that she felt so much pain at the prospect of leaving someone she’d only known for just over a week.
Deirdre excused herself to check on something in the kitchen, and Dottie went after her to gain directions to the bathroom. When Dottie looked back from the door, Reggie looked quite alarmed to be suddenly left alone with Miranda and Penny.
If only she didn’t have to go back to join the others, she thought, as she came back down the stairs again two minutes later. But surely they would be leaving soon? A lunch couldn’t last the entire afternoon!
Her wish was granted. As she entered the room, Miranda appeared to be sulking, and Dottie just had time to hear Reggie saying, ‘You ought to remember who your friends are,’ but he fell silent as she came back into the room. The atmosphere was distinctly chilly. Penny announced it was time to leave, whilst Deirdre just looked as though she wished the ground would open up and swallow the lot of them. Reggie could barely bring himself to say a civil goodbye. As they got into Penny’s car, Dottie saw him shake off his wife’s hand and go back into the house, leaving her alone to wave them off from the shelter of the porch over the front door.
As soon as they reached Penny’s house, Penny and Miranda excused themselves to go to their rooms for a nap—too much wine and a heavy lunch, coupled with the warm though wet summer’s day had made them sleepy, they said. Miranda was now occupying the room next door to Penny’s, the one that had been Artie’s until so recently.
Dottie didn’t mind being left alone to entertain herself, quite the opposite. She went to her room and began to pack. She felt excited at the prospect of going home, though a little nervous as it would mean a return to new responsibilities. But she had been away for almost three weeks: a week in Scotland, and twelve days divided between York and Scarborough then Nottinghamshire. That was quite long enough. She was ready to go home.
She slipped the last blouse from the hanger in the wardrobe, folded it, and placed it into her suitcase. She had laid her travelling suit across the back of the chair ready, along with a blouse, her stockings and underwear; and her shoes, neatly polished by the kind daily woman, were under the chair. All she needed to do was to leave out her night things and her other bits and pieces for the morning, and she was finished. She changed into her evening dress rather early so that she could pack the things she had been wearing all day.
She decided that she would take a leaf out of Penny and Miranda’s books and have a short nap; she had slept so badly since coming to the house. When she awoke, she looked out to see it was still raining. Not that it mattered, she thought, at least it was still fairly warm. It was almost tropical, so humid and damp yet warm.
Then she had a
n idea and went downstairs. She put a call through to her sister, and immediately said, ‘Flora? Do you remember Catherine Merritt-Gable?’
Dottie leaned against the coats on the pegs at the back of the hall as she spoke into the telephone receiver. One of the coats was wet from the rain, and she hastily repositioned herself away from it, brushing the water off her shoulder as best she could before it seeped through the fabric of her blouse.
‘From school? Yes of course. She was terribly good at hockey.’
‘Have you got her address by any chance? I think she married, didn’t she, last year? But I can’t remember his name.’
‘Oh, she married a young fellow named Walter Sherbourne. He’s a church chappie, isn’t he? A curate, or something?’
‘Probably,’ Dottie said, ‘because she was very religious, wasn’t she? I think her father was a clergyman, too.’
‘He became a bishop! It was in the newspapers, ooh, two or three years ago? I remember he came to school once on open day, just before I left, and he won the 100-yard dash! She said he’d been a great sport at school and could have been in the Olympics, but he went into the church.’
Dottie could hear Flora at the other end of the line, tapping her teeth with a pencil or something similar. It was extremely annoying.
‘Flora!’ she said sharply. ‘That’s a horrid sound!’
‘Sorry. Just thinking. I believe that Jemima Goodman knows them. She was at some do or another and ran into Catherine not long ago. Do you want me to ask her if she an address or anything?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Why? What made you suddenly think of Catherine?’
‘I was thinking about how hard it is to be West Indian in this country, and how very unpleasant a lot of people are. I wanted to ask her a bit about that.’
‘Oh!’ Flora sounded surprised but interested. ‘There were a couple of teachers in particular who were really unpleasant to Catherine, I remember. As a child myself, it never occurred to me I could say anything to the teachers. And some parents even complained about their daughters having lessons with her. It must have been a miserable time for her—and her home was so far away. She must have been so lonely. Not like us. We were so lucky to go home every afternoon.’
‘Yes, we were. I’m so glad we didn’t board.’ Dottie said. They talked for a couple more minutes, then Dottie said goodbye.
She missed Flora so much. She had to get home soon.
It was to be her final dinner at Gervase’s house, on this visit, at least. She would have liked to dine tête-à-tête, but it was not to be: Gervase had invited Penny too, and therefore more or less had to include Miranda. Perhaps that was all for the best, Dottie thought as she felt inclined to be sentimental. Having other people around would force her to be sociable and not think too much about going home and leaving Gervase, or how much she would miss him. She didn’t want to be bursting into tears again. She had cried too much of late.
Before they went in to dinner, they had a sherry in the drawing room, and chatted. Gervase drew Dottie to one side, and reaching into his jacket pocket, brought out a little package for her. For one wild moment she thought he was about to propose, but as soon as her heartbeat slowed back to normal and she could think again, she saw it was a brown envelope. On the front was marked ‘Richard Dawlish—effects from jacket pocket’. Of course.
She opened the flap of the envelope and peeked inside. It contained just four items: a battered leather wallet, half a book of matches, half a packet of cigarettes and a small reference book. Once again, she was struck by a sense of, ‘Is this all there is?’ But then a thought occurred to her, and with something like relief, she looked up with a sudden smile and said, ‘Of course! How silly of me. Obviously, the bulk of his belongings will have been sent back to his family in Jamaica. Phew, for a moment, I thought this was all that was left of Richard’s life!’
Gervase was frowning. Not with annoyance, this time. She recognised it as a sign he was thinking. ‘I don’t think there was anything to send back,’ he said. ‘As far as I can recall, there was nothing else.’
It was Dottie’s turn to stare. ‘There must have been,’ she insisted. ‘Surely he had clothes, shoes, and I don’t know, books? Or personal belongings of some kind? What about his medals and things from his war service? Don’t army fellows usually have a big kit-bag or something? Surely that would all have gone back to his family?’
‘Oh Dottie, do think, dear child!’ Miranda put in. The other two had drifted over to see what was going on. Her rather sarcastic way of talking to everyone, especially Dottie, made Dottie feel like putting her tongue out at her.
‘What? Think about what exactly?’ Dottie asked, exasperated.
‘Well, I was his fiancée, if you remember, so naturally his belongings came to me. What few there were, that is.’
Dottie stared, appalled, and even Gervase looked uncomfortable.
‘Miranda, I’m... I do beg your pardon, I’m afraid I completely forgot...’ Dottie began, but Miranda waved her words aside and with a martyred air, said:
‘Of course, it didn’t matter to me that he hadn’t much to leave. It was he who mattered, obviously. But I kept his things. They’re probably still there, up in the attic at Mummy and Daddy’s house. No one’s likely to have thrown anything out, Mummy and Daddy are such hoarders. His clothes I didn’t bother with, I gave those all to our maid, and I believe the stuff that was any good was given to some local mission run by the church, and the rest were burned. Oh and of course his little Bible. I think that got handed on to some charity or another. There wasn’t a lot else apart from those.’
Dottie was wondering whether to ask if she could see the items. Would Miranda—or her parents—think she was displaying too ghoulish an interest? But before she could even broach the subject, Gervase said,
‘That’s highly irregular. Even as his fiancée, you weren’t his next of kin. The things should have been sent back to his parents.’
‘Well he didn’t have any, did he? He was brought up by his grandparents, so... Anyway, it was only right that my grief and my loss should be acknowledged. But, if you don’t like it you will have to take it up with your father. He was a chief inspector at that time, wasn’t he? And working on this very case?’
Gervase nodded. ‘Yes, he was,’ he said, and he didn’t look at all pleased.
Michaels came to the door and announced that dinner was ready.
But the meal was never to be eaten. Whilst they were still taking their seats in the dining room, Michaels rushed back in. He was in a terrible flap and all trace of his usual calm manner had vanished. He said, ‘Mr Gervase! Mrs Reggie is on the phone. She’s in such a state. She says Mr Reggie has locked himself in his study and she can’t get any answer from him! She wants you to come at once.’
Gervase stared at the man uncomprehendingly. He began to shake his head and say, slightly irritably, ‘Well why doesn’t she just...’ He shrugged and pulled out his chair ready to take his seat.
But Michaels pulled him by the coat sleeve into the hall saying, ‘No sir. Mrs Reggie is afraid something terrible has happened. She needs you to go to over there immediately. Please sir!’
Again Gervase tried to calm the man, but Michaels’s agitation was contagious. The three women exchanged looks and Dottie went to Gervase’s side. She felt a sense of foreboding. ‘Gervase, let’s just go and set our minds at rest. I’m sure Deirdre wouldn’t ring unless she was very worried. Perhaps your brother has been taken ill.’
Gervase still seemed reluctant to leave, and actually went to the telephone. But Dottie took the receiver out of his hand and set it back in its rest, as Michaels brought Gervase and Dottie their coats due to the heavy rain that was falling.
Without even thinking of the other ladies, Dottie and Gervase went out and got into his car and set off, Gervase still insisting quite angrily that it was all ridiculous, and that it was bound to be a mare’s nest, and variations along those lines. Dottie beg
an to feel horribly afraid.
In spite of his assertion that it was all a waste of time, he drove much too fast all the way there, and almost hit the gatepost as he swung the car off the road and onto the driveway that led up to the house. He slammed on the brakes and leapt out of the car, without turning off the engine, forgetting Dottie, forgetting everything, as he ran up the steps to the house. He turned the handle of the front door and the door opened. They went inside.
Chapter Fifteen
THE HALL WAS EMPTY and echoed the sound of their footsteps and hurried breaths. Outside it was still daylight so no lights had been put on inside the house, and it was quite dark.
‘Deirdre! I got here as soon as I could, what’s going on?’ Gervase threw open the drawing room door, and Dottie followed behind him, curious at the silence of the house.
‘Oh Gervase, thank God!’ Deirdre was sitting on the extreme edge of a chair, her hands twining and twining a handkerchief, her eyes red with weeping, her face otherwise pale. She jumped up on seeing them and launched herself into Gervase’s arms, breaking into fresh sobs. She poured out her tale, between sobs and hiccups, and as she did so, Gervase was handing her into Dottie’s care, and turning to leave the room.
The gist was, Reggie had gone into his study after their visitors had left that afternoon—if not slightly before, Dottie mentally added—and he had not come out since. She had knocked a number of times, and gained no answer, so she had tried the door, and found it locked. There was no other key that she was aware of. She had even gone around the outside of the house to the garden door, she told them, but although one of the panes of glass was broken, the door was locked, and the curtains had been pulled across, preventing her from seeing inside.
‘I knocked on the garden door, but he didn’t open it, I don’t know if he heard me. Or—or... Oh Gervase, what if...?’
‘Nonsense,’ Gervase said briskly, though the set of his jaw told Dottie he was as anxious as they were. ‘He’s just fallen asleep, I expect. I’ll go and see.’