Threat

by Hugh Fraser

  There’s a faint glow of light from the end of the corridor and I walk towards it as quietly as I can while I try to remember the route me and Lizzie took when we were here before. I spot what looks like the staircase that Nick brought us down from the room we slept in, which I remember was on the first floor, and I reckon I should be able to find the Viscount’s room from there. As I put my foot on the first step, the back door opens, a light goes on behind me, and I hear a girl laughing. I go up the stairs and round the corner as another girl tells her to be quiet. A light goes on above me and the two girls are coming up the stairs behind me, talking in low voices. I keep going up, past the floor our room was on, until they peel off on the third floor landing. I wait until I hear a door open and close, then I go back down the stairs. As I turn the corner onto the landing, I bump straight into one of them.

  ‘Oops!’ she says, dropping her bag. She bends down to pick it up. As she straightens up I see that it’s Mary, the girl who brought me and Lizzie breakfast. She looks at me for a moment, then she recognises me.

  ‘Oh,’ she says, looking flustered.

  ‘Hello Mary,’ I say.

  She goes to walk past me but I put a hand on her arm.

  ‘I’m just off to bed,’ she says.

  ‘Can I talk to you a minute?’ I ask.

  ‘I’ve got to be up early.’

  ‘I want to show you something.’

  ‘What?’

  I hold the picture of the Marquess lying on top of Julie in front of her. She looks at it and her eyes widen. I show her the others one by one and see the look of horror on her face. She leans back against the wall, looks at me, and says, ‘That’s terrible. How could he…’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How could he do that?’

  As she starts crying, a door opens and a man’s voice says, ‘Be quiet or bugger off out of it!’

  I take Mary’s arm. ‘Where’s your room, love?’

  I follow her up to the top landing, along a corridor, through a door at the end and into a bare room with a narrow bed on each side and a small chest of drawers. She sits down on one of the beds and she’s crying and shaking. I sit beside her and put an arm round her. She dabs at her eyes with a hanky.

  ‘How could they do that to Julie?’

  ‘You knew her?’

  ‘She was a scullery maid.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘She’d just started, a bit more than a week ago. They put her in here, with me. I was showing her the ropes and that. She was ever so nice. They told me she’d been sacked for thieving.’

  So Julie did get herself a job and try to make a better life for herself and this is what she got.

  ‘Is the Viscount here now?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you take me to his room?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I’m going to show him the pictures and get him to stop it.’

  ‘He won’t do it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He’s scared of his father.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Because he can disinherit him any time he likes, and he hasn’t got a pot to piss in.’

  There’s a hard edge to Mary’s voice. She isn’t the meek little creature who brought the hot water to me and Lizzie.

  ‘I’ll take you to his mother.’

  ‘His mother?’

  ‘She’s the one.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘She’s frightened of no one. Come on.’

  She opens the door and strides off with such purpose that I follow her along the corridor and down the stairs. After a couple more stairs and corridors we stop outside Lady Northrup’s door.

  Mary puts her finger to her lips, opens the door quietly, and we go into the room. There’s the sound of gentle snoring coming from the four-poster bed. A shaft of moonlight, coming through a gap in the curtains, plays on the outline of a sleeping figure. Mary motions me to stay by the door, walks round to the far side of the bed and sits on the edge. Lady Northrup stirs, slides a hand onto Mary’s knee and says, ‘Hello, naughty girl.’

  As she lifts the blankets invitingly, Mary says, ‘There’s someone here.’

  ‘Mmmm?’

  ‘To speak to you.’

  Mary turns on a lamp by the bed and Lady Northrup is suddenly up on one elbow and looking at me.

  ‘What the fuck is this?’ she says.

  ‘You have to listen to her!’

  ‘This is an outrage! Get out both of you!’

  She gets out of bed, grabs her dressing gown off a chair and reaches for a bell pull by the mantlepiece. Mary gets to it first and pulls it out of her way. Lady Northrup takes a swing at her.

  ‘You impertinent little bitch!’

  I flick a light switch by the door and the chandelier fires up. I hold the first photograph out in front of me and walk towards Lady Northrup. She snorts in anger, then she snatches the photograph from me and studies it. After a moment she sits down on the bed and lowers her head over the picture. After staring at it for a moment, she looks up at me.

  ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘I took it myself.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In that building out the back with the old motors.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Last night.’

  I hand her the rest of the photographs. She looks at each one in turn, then she hangs her head, leans forward with her elbows on her knees, and gives a long sigh.

  After a few moments, a clock on the mantlepiece makes a quiet little ding. Lady Northrup sits up straight and pulls her shoulders back. Her face seems to narrow as she purses her lips and fixes me with a stern look.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suppose you want money.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Do you know Nicholas Boulter?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘He works for MI6, but he’s spying for the Russians. Your husband knows full well that he’s a spy, and he can prove it, but he won’t. Nick Boulter’s supplying him with dead girls to fuck provided he keeps it dark. If you get Boulter arrested and charged with high treason, those photographs, and the ones like them that I’ve hidden somewhere else, will be given to you. They’re Polaroid shots, so there are no copies or negatives. Once you get rid of the girls’ bodies and the artworks and the bits and pieces out there, there’ll be no more evidence of your old man’s twisted doings.’

  ‘And you just want Boulter charged with treason?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your patriotism does you credit.’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Boulter knows I’ve rumbled him and he’s out to kill me.’

  ‘I see.’

  Lady Northrup glances at the photographs again. She turns to Mary.

  ‘Go and find Symmonds and tell him to bring His Lordship here immediately.’

  Mary bobs a curtsy and leaves. Lady Northrup goes to her dressing table and sits down. She picks up a powder puff and dusts it over her face. She applies a pencil to her eyebrows and dabs her lips with a tissue. She surveys the result in mirror and then crosses to a cabinet in the corner and picks up a bottle.

  ‘Will you have a drink?’

  ‘Whisky, thanks.’

  She pours two large ones, hands one to me, waves me towards a chaise longue in front of the fireplace and sits opposite me in an armchair. We both take a good drink.

  ‘Who else knows about this?’ she asks.

  ‘Only Mary, and your man Symmonds. The man who supplied the girls is dead.’

  ‘There’s been more than one girl?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  She looks away, lowers her head, and grips the arm of the chair. After a moment she takes another drink.

  ‘How do I know I can trust you?’

  ‘You don’t need to
.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Like I said, once you’ve got the photographs, and the bodies are gone, there’s no evidence.

  ‘Any allegations from someone like me against a man like your husband will be laughed at.’

  That seems to satisfy her and she drains her glass, goes back to the cabinet and pours another one. As she turns round and offers me the bottle, the door opens and the Marquess walks in in his dressing gown, followed by Symmonds. The Marquess sees me and turns pale as a ghost.

  Symmonds bows his head and steps back.

  Lady Northrup stands in front of her husband and shows him a picture. As he opens his mouth to speak, she fetches him a smack across the face that sends him staggering, then she gives Symmonds a kick in the balls that has him doubled over and moaning in pain. She grabs the Marquess by the collar and throws him onto the chaise longue where he sits whimpering, his head in his hands. She turns to me.

  ‘Kindly wait for me in my drawing room.’

  I hold out my hand and she gives me the photographs. She looks at Mary and says, ‘Make sure our guest has everything she needs.’

  Mary opens a door at the back of the room and I follow her into a dressing room and through another door into a lounge, with a sofa and armchairs, and a writing desk in the corner, under a window. I go and look out over the moonlit parkland rolling away from the front of the house. I’m thinking how you can be born to all this and still be squalid and rotten and filthy, but if you’re the gentry you’ve got a better chance of getting away with it. A deer scampers out from behind some trees and stops on the lawn as if it’s listening for something, then it runs off into the woods. Mary comes and stands next to me.

  ‘Muntjac,’ she says.

  I turn and look at her.

  ‘A kind of little deer.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say.

  We look out at the moonlit landscape. I can feel her arm touching mine. I take her hand. ‘I know what it took for you to do that.’

  She lowers her eyes. I can feel her starting to cry. I put a hand on her shoulder and she leans into me.

  ‘She was so lovely.’

  I put my arms round her, gently rub her back. ‘At least they can’t hurt her any more.’

  She gives way to her tears and I guide her to the sofa and sit down beside her. After a bit she stops crying and dries her eyes.

  ‘We should go to the police. He ought to be put in prison for what he’s done.’

  ‘Let’s wait and see what Her Ladyship says first.’

  After a moment she nods. ‘You done a good thing.’

  ‘It’s not over yet.’

  ‘You don’t think…?’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  As I say it, the door opens and Lady Northrup strides in and sits in an armchair opposite.

  She looks at us both for a moment before speaking.

  ‘Mary, would you wait outside, until I call you?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Mary stands, curtsies, and leaves the room. Lady Northrup takes a couple of breaths and looks steadily at me.

  ‘Your demands are to be met. Evidence will be presented to the police within the hour and Boulter will be arrested and charged with high treason. I shall receive a telephone call from the Commissioner of Police confirming the arrest, to which you can be party. How soon can you produce the remaining photographs?’

  ‘Within the hour.’

  ‘You will bring them here to me.’

  ‘What about the bodies?’

  ‘Arrangements are being made.’

  ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mary.’

  ‘Yes. Since you ask, I propose to release her from my employment, give her the title to a cottage on our Northumberland estate, and a stipend which will see her comfortable for life, in return for her discretion and as a reward for the judgement she has shown in this regrettable matter. I trust that is satisfactory.’

  ‘It’ll do.’

  ‘There is a bedroom next door to the left where you may like to wait until the Commissioner telephones. I shall send for you directly I receive his call.’

  I nod and stand up to leave.

  ‘Would you send Mary in please?’

  28

  I’m lying on the bed in the room next door wondering what can go wrong. I’ve unlocked the window and opened it and I reckon I can get out and down a drainpipe in case Lady N has second thoughts and decides to set the dogs on me. She’s quite a piece of work and I wouldn’t put it past her but she knows there are more photographs out there and she probably won’t risk it.

  There’s a knock at the door. I slide off the bed and open it. Mary is there looking worried and confused. I pull her inside, close the door, sit next to her on the bed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘She’s giving me a house.’

  ‘I know, she told me.’

  ‘I don’t deserve it. It’s not right.’

  ‘Of course you do. You took a big risk and did the right thing and she respects you for that.’

  She looks down at her hands in her lap. ‘Do you think?’

  ‘I know she does, and I do too. If it hadn’t been for you I would have wasted my time with the Viscount and might well have ended up in a painting myself.’

  I feel her tremble beside me. I put my arm round her and feel how thin and fragile she is. ‘They’re powerful, frightening people, and they’ve made you feel that they’re better than you, but they’re not. You’ve stood up for what’s right and stopped more lovely girls like Julie being murdered to satisfy an evil old pervert. Her Ladyship’s rewarding you for that and you should be proud of yourself and take what she’s giving you.’

  She seems to think about what I’ve said, then she looks at me and gives a little smile. ‘I could have a dog.’

  ‘Of course you could.’

  ‘Will you come and see me?’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  I feel her relax and calm down and I’m wondering if it’s safe for her to go to her room. I reckon Lady N’s on the level, as I’ve still got the photographs.

  ‘I’ll be all right, if you want to go off to bed.’

  She looks at the door and then at me. ‘Can I stay with you?’

  ‘Of course you can.’

  I lay her gently back on the bed and put the quilt over her. I’m tempted to get in next to her but I reckon Her Ladyship might not be best pleased to find me in bed with her girlfriend. I sit in an armchair beside the fireplace, put a cushion behind my head, and close my eyes.

  The head of the man with the shotgun is sticking out of the top of an enormous teapot, and he’s looking at me and smiling his creepy smile while Symmonds pushes the teapot across a beach towards a lake where the Marquess is bobbing about in a rubber ring. Lady Northrup dives in and swims towards him and she hits him on the head and pushes him under the water. The teapot’s floating towards her and she starts banging on the side of it and Symmonds is pulling me towards the water. I fall in and then I’m awake. I’m looking at Mary’s face, and she’s holding my arm and pointing at the door.

  The door opens. Lady Northrup comes in and says, ‘Go to your room Mary.’

  Mary gives me a parting look and leaves. Lady Northrup turns on her heel and I follow her along the corridor and into her room. She goes to the bedside table, picks up the telephone receiver that’s lying on the table and beckons me to stand beside her. She puts the receiver to her ear and angles it so that I can hear as well.

  ‘Forgive me, Commissioner. Please continue.’

  ‘As I was saying, Your Ladyship, Boulter is being held at Bow Street police station, having been arrested and charged with high treason. He was located at an address in south London and a witness is being interviewed with a view to adding a charge of sodomy.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Apparently it was quite disgusting.’

  ‘How unpleasant for the arresting officers.’

  ‘Qui
te. It’s normally the purview of the Vice Squad, who are inured to such things. However, the documents regarding Boulter that we have received from His Lordship’s office will be more than sufficient to ensure a swift prosecution. I trust that is satisfactory.’

  ‘Indeed it is Malcolm. Thank you for informing me. I apologise once more for disturbing you at such an ungodly hour, and I hope we shall see you at a shoot very soon.’

  ‘I look forward to it Your Ladyship.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  She puts the receiver down, turns to me, and I realise I’ve been pressed right up against her, while I’ve been trying to catch what’s been said. As I back off, she snorts.

  ‘I didn’t know he was a queer.’

  I give a slight nod of the head and wait while she lights a cigarette. I hear a cock crowing and I look past her to the window where dawn’s breaking. She flicks ash.

  ‘Are you satisfied?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘Give me the photographs, and go and get the other ones. I will wait for you here.’

  I walk along the corridor towards the kitchen. A man in a waistcoat and a white shirt comes towards me with an armful of riding boots. I stand back to let him pass and walk out of the back door. The sun’s risen, the stables are open and a groom is leading out a beautiful brown horse with a flowing mane and white fur on its face and its ankles. I’ve never seen a horse so tall and I watch as he mounts up and trots off into a field beside the stables.

  I head into the woods and up over the low hill towards shotgun man’s cottage. I feel a great relief knowing that Nick’s banged up in Bow Street. Ginger and his cronies will most likely desert him now, and scurry back into the woodwork.

  Squirrels are scampering about and leaping up into the trees, and a little brown thing, like a long furry sausage with short legs and a white bib, runs across the path in front of me. The birds are giving it full volume and the sun is shining through the trees. I just want to keep walking on through the woods to a place where there are no spies or dead girls or posh people, and everything’s nice and peaceful.

  The man with the shotgun is standing under a tree beside his cottage. As I get near he walks to the front door, opens it, and stands aside to let me go in. The fire’s still burning and I go and stand near it. As I’m warming my hands, I hear the door close.