Maggie leaped to her feet. ‘Sorry, Matron,’ she gasped. ‘We’re just on our way.’ With that she rammed on her hat, pinned it into place and went through the door like the devil himself was after her.
The wards were busier than usual, with the nurses sending Maggie and Sara here and there. Two patients refused their breakfasts, and another tipped a bowl of water over herself. All in all, it was one of the worst mornings Maggie could remember. ‘I’m knackered,’ she told Sara as they rushed by each other in the corridor.
At twelve o’clock, the two of them made their way back to the staff room where Sara made tea while Maggie got her breath back. ‘I’m getting too old for this,’ she moaned. ‘There’s a job going at the garden centre. I think I’ll apply.’
Sara laughed. ‘You’ll never stick it. You’ll miss Matron’s happy face – you’ll even miss emptying the bedpans.’
‘You little bugger, give us a cup of that tea before I die of thirst.’
Bringing the tea and biscuits to the table, Sara quizzed, ‘What were you about to say when Matron opened the door this morning?’
Maggie’s eyes went instinctively to the newspaper still lying where she’d dropped it on the table. ‘It was that article.’
‘What? The one where that woman was attacked?’
Maggie nodded.
‘What about it?’
Frowning, Maggie sipped her tea, trying to organise the facts in her mind. ‘The name struck a chord, that’s all. Fellowes, Tony Fellowes.’
‘The old man who’s bedridden? The police said he was too ill to have heard or seen anything.’
‘He was here.’
‘The old man? Here, at Broadfields?’
Deep in thought, Maggie didn’t answer right away. She vaguely recalled something else. But was it the same time? Or had he gone by then?
‘Maggie!’ Now that her interest was fired, Sara wouldn’t let it go. ‘What are you saying?’
‘He was here, Tony Fellowes was an inmate.’
‘Patient!’
‘All right. He was a patient here.’
‘When?’
‘Some time back.’ She shook her head. Her memory was not what it used to be. ‘I can’t recall exactly when, but it was some years ago. He was very ill. Apparently he’d been ill for a long time. His son had been caring for him but as he got older he couldn’t manage any more.’
‘And you say the old man was unbalanced?’
‘I didn’t say that but yes, I suppose you could call him unbalanced.’
‘What made him that way?’
‘Something that happened years before, when his son was barely out of his teens. I remember that, because I caught the old man crying one night and he told me he could remember his son’s eighteenth birthday, but after that his mind was a blank. When I spoke to the son about it, he just said there had been an accident and his father had been badly affected by it.’
‘What kind of accident?’
‘I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say. The son wasn’t the kind of man you had a conversation with. He was a bad-tempered individual, with very little time for anyone but his father.’ She recalled that much at least. ‘He adored the old man, anyone could see that.’
‘Did the old man get better?’
‘He didn’t want to. For some reason known only to himself, he just gave up.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘You know as well as I do, when that happens, there’s nothing anyone can do, not even the doctors.’
‘I’ve read somewhere that a tribe of Indians can will themselves to die. They sit with their arms and legs folded, and they just pass away.’
‘Mind over matter. A powerful thing.’
‘So what happened to old Mr Fellowes?’
‘His son got married and his wife wanted to take care of him.’
‘But she didn’t even know him, did she?’
Smiling, Maggie reminded her, ‘We don’t really know any of these here, do we? But we care for them all the same.’
‘It’s our job. But she didn’t have to do it, did she? If the old man was past all help, and he was being cared for well enough here, why would she want to take him away? Looking after an elderly man, especially if he’s mentally ill, well, it’s a hard, time-consuming job. And if she was only just married, it doesn’t seem fair on her husband, does it?’
‘No, I don’t suppose it does. But he must have wanted the old man home. When all’s said and done, it was his father.’
‘And now he’s dead. And the wife’s been attacked. Doesn’t seem fair after what they did for the old man.’
‘Life is never fair.’
‘What was he like, the old man?’
‘He was a bit younger when he was here, of course, but if I remember rightly he was a fine-looking bloke. Tall, big-framed, with a back broad as an ox. He had the kind of face where you could still see the young man in him.’
‘Good-looking, was he?’
‘In his time, I should think.’
She kept thinking of that other matter. For some reason it worried her.
The door opened and a fat, middle-aged nurse waddled in. ‘What a morning!’ she groaned, taking off her hat and stuffing it in her pocket. Her eyes caught sight of their teacups. ‘Any more in the pot?’ she asked.
‘Enough for one more.’ Sara bit into her biscuit and for a while was quiet.
While the nurse busied herself at the sink, Maggie asked casually, ‘Do you remember Tony Fellowes? He was here some years back. Never spoke. Slept most of the time. A fine figure of a man, he was.’
‘Yes, I think so. A sad case, if I remember right. He was one of the few that the doctors couldn’t help.’ She added milk to her tea and turned round, cursing when she spilled some over her apron. ‘Didn’t the son take him away after he got married?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I always thought the woman must have been some kind of an angel to take him on like that, especially when she was only just married.’ Lowering her voice, she admitted, ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I’d have done it.’
Sara piped up, ‘That’s just what I said!’
‘There was something else as well,’ the fat nurse said. ‘It all happened round the time the old man was taken away.’ She glanced at Maggie. ‘You must remember, all hell was let loose.’
Maggie nodded slowly. ‘I was trying to remember whether it was before the old man left, or soon after.’
‘I can’t be certain either, but I know the incidents followed one another.’
Sara was so excited, she couldn’t sit still. ‘Tell me!’ She leaned forward, her face alight with anticipation. ‘What happened?’
It was the fat nurse who replied. ‘There was a murder. Right here in the hospital. One of the nurses, it was. A sweet young thing, only been here a few months.’
‘Bloody hell!’
Maggie took up the story. ‘That wasn’t the end of it either. A few days later, two women patients disappeared. One of them was due to be discharged the following week. The other was a trusty. The place was crawling with police for weeks, but they never found the murderer of that poor nurse.’
‘What about the other two?’
‘Well now, there’s another mystery. One of them was found three days later, drowned in the river. The other was never traced. The police did all they could but in the end they had to abandon the search. As far as I know, the case is still open. Unsolved.’
Sara was thrilled. ‘Cor! It all happens here, eh?’ Her curiosity grew morbid. ‘How was that poor nurse murdered? Strangled, I suppose, that’s usually how they do it.’
The fat nurse didn’t approve of Sara’s excitement but was caught up in it all the same. ‘That wasn’t the way she died.’ Edging her fat little arms across the table, she leaned her head down, glancing furtively at the door, before confiding in a whisper, ‘She was in the stockroom, reaching up into a cupboard, when somebody crept in and hit her on the back of the head with a heavy object.’
Sara leaped to her feet. ‘That’s just how Mrs Fellowes was attacked!’ she cried. ‘Somebody crept up behind her and hit her on the head. Blimey! If you ask me, she’s lucky to be alive.’
‘It just goes to show,’ Maggie remarked apprehensively, ‘nobody’s safe. Not then. And not now.’
Dave was like a cat on hot bricks, pacing back and forth, frantically running his hands through his hair, the way he did when troubled.
From the adjoining office, Jack anxiously watched him. ‘Libby’s wrong,’ he mused, tapping his pencil on the desk while keeping an eye on Dave. ‘Dave isn’t having an affair. This is something far more serious.’
‘I know what it could be.’ Cliona’s soft voice startled him.
‘What did you say?’ As he looked round, the dark eyes enveloped him. ‘How would you know what’s troubling him?’ Cliona had been a real asset in Mandy’s absence. She had a gentle, unassuming manner that kept the phone ringing, and she was devastatingly attractive; so much so that normally he would be chasing her at every opportunity. But he was wary of her. He couldn’t make her out, couldn’t get through somehow. There was something different about her and though it irked him to think it, she frightened him. Imagine that, he thought. Jack Arnold, being frightened of a woman.
She smiled, as though she knew what he was thinking. ‘I just put a call through from the owner of the big house on Weathercock Lane. Mr Walters forgot the appointment and now the vendor’s withdrawing his property from this agency.’
‘Jaysus, Mary and Joseph!’ Jack’s gaze went to Dave. ‘I’d better see if there’s anything I can do.’ Getting out of his chair, he hurried across the office and knocked on Dave’s door. ‘Got a minute?’ Without waiting for an answer, he went inside, closing the door behind him.
Dave was adamant. ‘I’ll deal with it, Jack. Thanks all the same. Barclay is quick to temper, that’s all. He’s a difficult man, but this time it’s entirely my fault. I’ll go and see him. It’s no good over the phone.’
Jack wasn’t so easily dismissed. ‘What’s wrong, Dave?’
Alarmed, Dave answered cautiously, ‘What makes you think there’s anything wrong?’
‘You’ve forgotten two appointments this last week. Fortunately the land deal is still going through but the house on Weathercock Lane was one you’d been after for some time. You fought off the competition to get it on the books, and now it seems you’ve blown it.’
‘I’ve told you, I’ll deal with it.’ He didn’t take kindly to being carpeted, and by Jack of all people. ‘If that’s all, you’d best get back to your work.’
Jack was persistent. ‘I know you don’t want me saying this, but I think we’ve known each other long enough for me to speak out when I see you going wrong.’
‘I think you’d better go, Jack.’ Dave could feel himself growing angry. He had more than enough on his mind without listening to Jack sounding like the echo of his own conscience.
Unabashed, Jack went on, ‘You’re hardly ever in the office lately, and just now I saw you pacing the floor as if you were haunted or something.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Dave demanded frostily. He felt vulnerable. Jack couldn’t know how close he’d come to the truth.
Taking the liberty of seating himself in the chair opposite, Jack gave him a direct, no-nonsense look. ‘I thought we were more than just business colleagues. Am I wrong?’
Dave closed his eyes, his whole body sagging as though the life had ebbed from it. ‘No, Jack, you’re not wrong.’
‘So confide in me. What is it that’s driving you crazy?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
‘Is it a woman?’
‘What?’
‘Libby thinks you’re cheating on her.’
‘Dear God! You mean she’s been talking to you about it?’ He couldn’t believe she would do such a thing, but then, when he thought about it, it was only natural. Jack was here and she wasn’t. He could keep an eye out when she couldn’t. ‘If I was seeing another woman, would you tell her?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a good friend, Jack. To both of us.’
‘Libby spoke to me in confidence.’
Dave nodded. ‘I understand. Don’t worry.’
‘And there isn’t another woman?’
‘No.’ He smiled, thinking about the dark-eyed young woman who had invaded his every waking minute. She was at the root of all his troubles. But how could he explain it to Jack? Practical, down-to-earth Jack who believed only what he saw with his own eyes? ‘It’s not a woman,’ he said firmly. ‘Well, not in the way you might think.’
‘Cliona thinks it might be money troubles.’ He used her name purposefully. He felt uncomfortable with her in the office. Maybe if Dave knew she was talking about him, he would send her packing.
At first Dave seemed angry. ‘She said that?’ His handsome features gave way to a smile. ‘She knows nothing, and no, it’s not money troubles. You know as well as I do the business is on the up and up.’ He frowned. ‘Though I’m concerned we could have lost a big sale because of my neglect.’
‘Want me to go and see him?’
‘I’ve already said. My fault. My responsibility. I’ll get it back.’ He was confident.
Jack knew that look. ‘I’m sure you will,’ he laughed.
Just then the phone rang. Dave picked up the receiver. ‘Dave Walters here. How can I help you?’
While he was talking, Jack departed, only partly reassured.
‘I understand.’ Dave had been chasing this solicitor for weeks to shift things along on a difficult purchase. ‘No, I’m not prepared to lower the price. The vendor insists he won’t go lower, and I agree. We’ve gone far enough on this one.’ He listened patiently. ‘If she backs out after signing the contract, she’s liable, you know that as well as I do.’ Again he listened, growing angrier by the minute. ‘No, I won’t go back to him yet again. Enough is enough. We complete the deal, or we sue.’
There the conversation ended, but he had a gut feeling it would go his way. ‘Some people are never satisfied.’
Tackling his pile of overdue letters, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. When he looked up, it was to see Cliona enter with his coffee. ‘Thought you might need this,’ she said, setting it down before him.
For a moment their eyes met and, like some awful spectre, the image of Miss Ledell’s house loomed large in his mind, blackened and charred, empty. Without being aware of it, he murmured, ‘How did the fire happen?’
She looked at him for a while, her dark eyes smiling. ‘There was no fire,’ she answered softly. ‘You must have imagined it.’
The spell was broken. He mentally shook himself and stared round the room. The door was closed, he was utterly alone.
At that moment, there came a knock on the door. ‘Come!’ The door opened and in came Cliona.
‘I thought you might be ready for your coffee.’ When he just stared at her, she entered, set the coffee cup on his desk and silently departed.
After she had gone, he sat motionless for a minute or two, gazing after her. He looked down at the desk, half expecting to see two cups of coffee. There was only one.
Numbed, he couldn’t take his eyes off the cup. The bubbles of milk in the centre were still swirling, and he could see the steam rising, warming his face. ‘Maybe I am going mad,’ he whispered. If he wasn’t losing his mind, what other explanation could there be?
He looked through the window into the adjoining office. Cliona and Jack were both engrossed in their work. Nothing untoward. Everything normal. His eyes were drawn to Cliona. ‘What is it about you?’ he murmured. ‘You and the woman in the rain. You and Miss Ledell.’ He had been back to the house three times since that day. ‘The old lady’s gone now. The house is deserted and Daisy is distraught.’ The obvious thing to do was to ask Cliona where Miss Ledell was, but he baulked at the idea. Cliona was somehow part of the mystery, he was certain, and if he was honest, t
he thought of confronting her frightened him.
He got to his feet. He began pacing, muttering to himself. ‘My whole life is falling apart. Libby’s convinced I’m seeing another woman. I can’t sleep, can’t eat. This morning I yelled at Daisy for nothing and now she won’t even talk to me.’ Anguish thickened his voice. ‘I can’t go on like this. I’ve got to confide in someone.’
‘D… a… v… e.’ The voice was like a hush falling over the room.
Startled, he swung round, his eyes drawn to the far corner. ‘Who’s that?’ Imagining he saw someone there, he rushed over. No one was there and he laughed harshly. ‘I’m seeing shadows now, for Chrissake!’
The shrill ringing of the phone brought him back. In two strides he was at the desk. ‘Yes?’ Impatience quickened his voice.
‘Mr Walters?’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s the library here.’
He visibly relaxed. ‘Oh, hello.’
‘I’m ringing about the documents you requested, the ones that went missing. That was odd in itself, but even odder is the fact that they have now been returned. They appeared on the shelves some time last evening, and no one seems to know who put them there.’
‘Whatever you do, don’t let them out of your sight.’ Relief coursed through him.
‘When shall I expect you?’
‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,’ he said. ‘I’m already on my way.’
That night, while Libby slept, Dave crept down to the study. Here he took out the thick wad of documents from the library. Excited by what he had already discovered, he resumed reading.
There were newspaper cuttings dating back to the 1930s. The car accident had been a bad one, killing the passenger and badly injuring the driver. There was a witness, a young woman who had been walking her dog. One of the smaller, more local newspapers had carried her account.
It was just after nine o’clock in the evening. I was walking my dog when I saw the car. It was heading towards Ampthill. I took little notice of it. It was dark, and the rain was coming down in sheets. All I know is, suddenly the car went out of control and came across the pavement. I thought we were going to be killed.
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