Murderer's Fen

by Andrew Garve

  At ten o’clock that morning he collected his car from the local garage, where it had been in for a service, and took a quick run into Lingford to see Susan. She and her mother were going up to town for a day or two to pay some calls and do some shopping—and though the parting would be brief, the note of absolute devotion had to be maintained. After he’d seen them off he lunched enjoyably in Newmarket before returning to the site. It was about half past two when he got back. Having nothing better to do, he strolled along the lode to do a little more work on the last of the boat arrivals. It was a smart little cruiser called Flavia, brought in the previous day by an owner who had suddenly been called abroad. It had been left in full commission and Hunt had been entrusted with the job of laying it up. He stood on the bank for a moment, admiring its lines. One day, he intended to have a motor yacht of his own. But with luck, he’d be keeping his at Cannes or Monte Carlo. Wine, women and yachts—how was that for a prospect.…?

  He was about to step aboard and continue with the clearing up when he noticed someone approaching the office. A girl in a white coat and a blue-flowered head scarf, carrying a suitcase. He walked back to see what she wanted. As he drew nearer, he had the feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before. Then, suddenly and incredulously, he recognised her.

  It was the girl he’d met on holiday … Gwenda Nicholls.…

  Chapter Three

  “Hallo, Alan,” Gwenda said.

  For a moment, he could find no words. His mind ran quickly back over their last meeting—his unfulfilled promise to write—the false address he’d given her.… How the hell had she got on to him? What was he going to say to her.…? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was in for a damned sticky encounter—and that it could hardly have come at a worse time.…

  Take it easy, he told himself. Feel your way.…

  “Why, hallo,” he said.

  “You didn’t expect to see me again, did you?” Her tone was flat, her face unsmiling, her eyes cold. An icy beauty.…

  Bitter, he thought. Naturally. Bitter because he’d ditched her. A woman scorned. Probably all set for trouble. And what trouble she could make! He’d have to handle her gently. Soothe her, if he could. Mollify her.… But how.…?

  Admit everything, and pretend to be remorseful.…? No, he’d never get away with that—not after what he’d done.… Try to bluff his way through? Lie about everything? Then, if the bluff worked, say his feelings had changed and ease her out.…? That was more like it. More his line of country.…

  With a faintly injured air, he said, “I hoped to see you.”

  “What—after giving me the wrong address?”

  He looked puzzled, “The wrong address? What do you mean?”

  “You know you gave me an address in Brighton.”

  “Brighton.…?” He stared at her. “But that’s where I’d just moved from.…” Suddenly he clapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh, what a damn’ fool.… ! Gwenda, I must have scribbled down the old one without thinking—I suppose I was so used to it.… What a clot!”

  A little colour crept into Gwenda’s face, a little hope into her eyes. “Is that true?”

  “Of course it’s true—you don’t imagine I’d have given you a wrong one on purpose.… Anyway, this was the address I put on my letter.…”

  “What letter?”

  “Why, the letter I wrote to you at Peterborough.”

  “I never got any letter.”

  “Surely.… ! I wrote to you soon after I got back. Sent it to 19 Everton Road—that’s right, isn’t it.…? I remember posting it in the village box.”

  “I never got it.”

  “Then it must be the damned G.P.O. I wondered why you never answered.… Oh, lord, what a run of bad luck!”

  “It’s awful,” she said. She was searching his face—uncertain, he could see, whether to believe his story—but desperately wanting to. The ice had begun to thaw. Things should go better now.

  “Anyway,” he said, “if you didn’t get my letter, how did you find me?”

  “I’d seen your proper address, I saw it on your luggage, the day you left the hotel. On the quay, while you were paying your bill.”

  “I see …” Silently, Hunt cursed his carelessness.

  “I thought—I thought you’d just been amusing yourself with me. That you didn’t mean us to meet again.…”

  “Was that why you weren’t there when the launch left?”

  Gwenda nodded. “I was so hurt—so ashamed.…”

  “You poor kid.… I couldn’t think what could have happened—I said so in my letter … But you really ought to have checked, you know. After all, that address could have been an old one—and the one I gave you the right one. Luggage labels are often out of date.”

  “I know—I thought of that when I got home. I wondered how I could make sure. I was going to write to Brighton and see if anyone answered.… Then I thought it would be quicker to telephone the local post office and ask if you lived here—and they said you did. That seemed to settle it.… I wouldn’t have bothered you again—nothing would have made me.… Except what’s happened.… Alan, I’m going to have a baby.”

  Hunt’s jaw dropped. “No … !”

  “I am.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “Oh, my God.… !”

  Suddenly, the place where they were standing seemed to Hunt altogether too exposed. “Look, let’s go and talk in my caravan,” he said. He picked up her suitcase and led the way to the van.

  Gwenda took off her head scarf and coat and sank gratefully on to the cushioned settee. Hunt gazed at her now with something close to hatred. Pregnant and the very first time! What sort of a deal was that to hand out to a fellow? Just what you’d expect of a Baptist’s daughter! It no longer interested him that she was one of the prettiest redheads he’d come across, that if anything she looked more of a tasty dish than ever. He’d had her, and he no longer wanted her. Or anything to do with her. His sole objective now was marriage, wealth and freedom. What a bloody fool he’d been.…

  “I need a drink,” he said. “What about you?”

  “No, thanks.… I wouldn’t mind a glass of milk if you’ve got some, though.”

  He poured the milk for her, and a stiff whisky for himself. When he’d downed it, he felt a bit better. This situation was going to take some handling, but he’d manage it somehow. He’d got to … First, the crucial question.…

  “Have you told your parents?”

  Gwenda shook her head.

  “Have you told anyone?”

  “No.”

  He gave a grunt of relief. “Well,” he said, in a friendlier tone, “this is a bit of bad luck—but there’s no need to worry … I’m sure we can organise something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll find someone who’ll get rid of it for you—it’s not hard if you know the right people.… I’ll lay on all the transport that’s needed, and help you work out a story—and of course I’ll foot the bill, it won’t cost you a penny.”

  “I don’t want to get rid of it,” Gwenda said.

  Hunt gave a tolerant smile. “Oh, come now, that’s just silly.”

  “I don’t think it’s silly,” Gwenda said. “I shouldn’t have done what I did in the first place—but I did, and I’m not going to get out of it that way. I don’t think it’s right.”

  “Not right …? Good heavens, girls do it all the time.”

  “I don’t care—I’m not going to … I’ve made up my mind, Alan … If that’s all you’ve got to suggest, you can save your breath.”

  “But Gwenda, be reasonable.… What will you do?”

  There was a little pause. Then she said, “Some people get married.… Why shouldn’t we?”

  He’d been expecting that. For a moment, he didn’t answer. What should he tell her? The brutal truth? Half the truth.…?

  “I wasn’t going to suggest it,” Gwenda went on, “not when I came. I jus
t thought I ought to tell you about the baby, that’s all.… I didn’t really want anything more to do with you—it seemed so mean, the way you’d gone on.… But you’ve explained things, and I can see now how wrong and unfair I was, and I’m sorry.… Now everything’s different.… After all, we did like each other, didn’t we?”

  “Of course we did,” Hunt said. “And I hope we still do … But, Gwenda, things aren’t the same any more. I can’t marry you now … The fact is, I—I’ve got involved with another girl.”

  She looked at him disbelievingly. “Oh, Alan … ! So soon?”

  “Well,” he said, “I thought you’d written me off.… First you weren’t at the quay when the launch left, which shook me, and then you didn’t reply to my letter .… I thought you must have changed your mind about me—decided I was too old for you, or something … I was pretty fed up, actually … Then I happened to meet Lesley.”

  “Who is she?”

  “She’s the daughter of the man who owns this place. My boss.… He happened to bring her along one day, and we got friendly.”

  “Are you going to marry her?”

  “Well, we’re not officially engaged, but there’s a sort of understanding … I don’t see how I can duck out of it.”

  “You mean you don’t want to?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Are you very fond of her?”

  “I am quite fond of her, of course.… And I am more or less committed.”

  “You’re not as committed as I am,” Gwenda said bitterly.

  “Well, no … Gwenda, I wish I could marry you, honestly I do—but I just don’t see how I can.… Look, be sensible—let me find someone who’ll fix it.”

  “No,” Gwenda said. “No!” She reached for her suitcase. “I think I might as well be on my way.”

  “Where are you going to?”

  “St. Neots,” she said. “I’ve taken a job there.”

  “A job …? What job?”

  “It’s with a family called Baker—looking after their little boy.”

  “So you’ve finally got away from home?”

  “Yes, for the moment.… I had to—it was the only way I could come and see you without anyone knowing.… I answered the advertisement, and practically settled that I’d go, and then I badgered Mum and Dad till they agreed.”

  “But you won’t be able to keep this job, surely? Now you’re pregnant, I mean?”

  “I don’t have to. It’s a temporary job—just for six weeks.”

  “I see … And then what?”

  Gwenda sighed. “Then I’ll have to go back home and confess, I suppose.… What else can I do?”

  Hunt sat in appalled silence, staring at her … If she told her parents, they’d insist on knowing who the father was. She’d tell them that, too—she owed him no loyalty. They’d find out he was a bachelor, and they’d say he ought to marry her. She’d tell them about the other girl. Then that tin chapel father of hers would come chasing after him. He’d make a hell of a fuss. He’d find out who the other girl really was. Probably he’d go and see Ainger.… And there’d be no marriage to Susan. It was as predictable as nightfall.

  A wave of anger swept through Hunt. If this girl talked, he’d be right back where he’d started. All his patient work gone for nothing. All his glittering prospects dashed … And why? Because of her idiotic prejudices.… Obstinate little bitch! Why the devil couldn’t she get rid of the kid, like anyone else would.…?

  He went over to the caravan window and stood there, gazing across the fen, trying to think of some way out. If she’d been a common tart, he could have bribed her—but she wasn’t. If she’d been older, more worldly, he could have offered to set her up in her own establishment and go on providing for her as long as she kept quiet. But she wasn’t that, either. She was just a simple, ordinary girl in trouble—and in spite of her earlier talk of independence, he hadn’t a doubt that when the crunch came she would go back to Mum and Dad.… And there was no way he could stop her.

  At least.…

  There was a way, of course.… If he could bring himself to take it. If he had the guts … Or there might be … It would be a desperate step—as well as a most unpleasant one. But the situation was desperate, too.…

  No harm, anyway, in seeing how the land lay.…

  He half turned. Gwenda had made no further move to leave. She was sitting quietly on the settee, watching him.… Hoping, no doubt, that he might still change his mind about her.

  “Does anyone at all know about you and me?” he asked. “About our having met?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”

  “No … Why …?”

  “I was just thinking …”

  That seemed all right—as long as she was telling the truth. Hunt lied so much himself, he was always ready to suspect a lie from others. But she’d answered with an air of truth.… Then another possibility occurred to him.

  “Did you have any difficulty in finding your way here?”

  “Not really,” she said.

  “Surely you had to ask someone?”

  “I asked the bus conductor if he knew the place—and a man in the village, when I got off.… Then I saw the sign at the end of the drive.”

  “I see.…” So people did know she’d come—and they might remember later. Probably they would. Even with that head scarf over her hair, she wasn’t a girl men would easily forget. There was that telephone call she’d made to the village post office, too—asking about him. That might be remembered. One way or another, a link with him would almost certainly be established once inquiries began. That meant he’d have to be ready with some story … Well, it wouldn’t be the first story he’d invented. Already, he had the germ of an idea.…

  What about the grim undertaking itself? He turned again to the window. The fen had a practical interest for him now.… He could see one or two people walking there. It would be hopeless to think of anything in daylight. Sometimes people went there at night, too—but usually they were too busy with each other to notice anyone else. And the reeds were high, completely obscuring the view between one part of the fen and another. If he could think of a way of keeping Gwenda here till nightfall, the chances were that no one would see him. A couple of hours’ work, and his troubles could be over.…

  But dare he risk it? There were other hazards, besides the chance of being seen. Or heard. He could make a mistake—overlook something … The way he’d overlooked that luggage label.… No one thought of everything … There’d be risks in making preparations, risks in covering all traces. The least carelessness could lead to a search—and the body might be found. There would in any case be endless questions—and one slip-up could finish him …

  Yet one thing was sure—if he didn’t do it, he was sunk. It was a clear choice—risk against riches. Wasn’t the gamble worth it? And after all he didn’t have to decide now. He’d have hours to think about it—to work out a plan.… All he had to do now was get Gwenda to stick around. If, later in the evening, the dangers seemed too great, he could scrub the whole thing.…

  Her voice broke in on him. “What are you thinking about, Alan?”

  “You,” he said. “You and me—and what we’re going to do …” For a little while longer, he stood debating.… If he did get her to stick around, in the only way possible, and then decided to do nothing, he’d have a pretty trying emotional set-up on his hands. But that would be the least of his troubles.… Suddenly, as though he’d come to a great decision, he went over to Gwenda and sat down close beside her. His face had softened, his whole manner had changed.

  “You know,” he said, “I think we ought to marry. I think we’d regret it all our lives if we didn’t. I know I should … I always meant to ask you to marry me when we got home, anyway. I really did fall for you in Norway. When I didn’t hear from you I was terribly miserable. I suppose that’s really how I came to get involved with Lesley—a sort of rebound.… But
I realise now, I can’t let you go. It’s you I love”

  Tears gathered in Gwenda’s eyes. “Oh, Alan.…”

  “What about you, darling? How do you feel?”

  “I love you, too, Alan.… I think I have ever since I met you. I want to marry you … Oh, I’ve been so unhappy.”

  He stroked her hair, comforted her. “Well, it’s all over now, sweetie. We’ll definitely get married. It’s settled.”

  “How about—Lesley?”

  “I’ll have to tell her I made a mistake, that’s all. She’s bound to be hurt, I’m afraid—but there’s nothing else to be done, is there?”

  “No …”

  “She’ll get over it, I’m sure. It’s not as though the thing went very deep—not like with you and me.… I mean, I never slept with her or anything like that. We were really just good friends. …”

  “I see. Well, I’m glad about that.… When will you tell her?”

  “As soon as I can—but she’s on a cruise at the moment, she won’t be back for a few days. It’s just as well, really, because I’m bound to lose this job when her father knows and it’ll give me time to look for another one.… As soon as I’ve got things straightened out, we’ll tell your people, eh? Face the music—get it over.”