Bright Young Dead

by Jessica Fellowes

  ‘You know, when you try to talk to the dead.’ She was whispering as if ghosts might be eavesdropping from behind the folded pillowcases.

  ‘Yes, but why?’

  ‘She thinks we could talk to Adrian, to find out what happened.’

  ‘I thought you believed in ghosts.’

  ‘I do!’ Pamela was earnest.

  ‘Then don’t you think that’s rather dangerous?’ Louisa wasn’t sure if she believed in ghosts but this seemed to be tempting something unnatural and she didn’t like the idea of it. Nor would anybody else. Nanny Blor would be distraught if she discovered it.

  Pamela’s shoulders dropped. ‘Yes, I do. But you know what Koko’s like, when she gets the bit between her teeth.’

  Louisa felt herself wavering. It was a long shot but if any of them had seen Dulcie with this Billy Masters or could recall something of him, it might be worthwhile. There was an opportunity here, with all of them gathered, to try and prise some information. If she struck lucky, she’d have something to tell Guy, something that could be of genuine use and he might tell his boss about what she had done.

  Did she want to join the police? She ignored the thought.

  ‘When does Nancy want to do it?’

  ‘It has to be after Muv and Farve have gone to sleep. In the library, after supper.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m asking this but what do you need?’

  ‘Nothing really, a tablecloth and four candles. It’ll be me, Nancy, Charlotte, Sebastian, Ted, Phoebe and Clara. Nancy asked Oliver, which is so embarrassing.’

  Louisa didn’t say anything but she understood. Poor Pamela, always being set up with him. It wasn’t as if either of them ever showed much relish at the prospect. There had been one awful day in the summer when a tennis party had been set up, only for Pamela to find that everyone deliberately tiptoed away, leaving only her and Oliver in the court. She had heard them giggling on the other side of the hedge and had been mortified.

  ‘Anyway, it turns out Oliver can’t come. His mother isn’t keen, I bet. So we’ll need you there, too.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Pamela made an impatient click with her tongue. ‘There has to be an even number of people for a seance and I can’t exactly ask Tom or Diana. Diana’s too young and Tom will give us away to Farve, they’re thick as thieves now.’

  This kind of remark caught at Louisa like a tiny splinter under her fingernail. ‘In that case, when Mrs Windsor has retired for the night I’ll come to the library with the candles. It’ll most likely be around midnight. The witching hour.’

  To this Pamela pulled a face of mock alarm as she pulled the door behind her.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  As Louisa had nothing to do with Nancy’s supper party but had to stay in the nursery with Nanny Blor and the younger girls, she saw nothing of the others’ arrivals, although she had been aware of a flurry of arrangements with a grumpy Hooper inveigled into various trips to the station to collect the guests who came at inconveniently different times. Despite Nancy’s report that Mrs Stobie would cheerfully make them a simple supper, she grumbled like Mount Etna as she ordered Ada to peel the potatoes while she made an apple pie. Ada and Louisa, however, were both cheerful. Thanks to Lord Redesdale’s unpredictable temperament, there weren’t often guests in the house and it made for a welcome change in the daily routine. Ada’s pregnancy was starting to show now and she told Louisa she rather thought she’d pack as much in as she could before she had to stop work. ‘You’ll have to come around and tell me all the gossip,’ she teased, and Louisa had smiled though her heart had sunk. Was that to be her future?

  At a quarter to midnight, when Louisa was sure that Diana had finally fallen asleep, she went downstairs. There had been a terrific battle earlier as Diana had wanted to join Nancy and her friends but Lord Redesdale had expressly forbidden her to do anything other than say hello to them on their arrival. Diana’s powers of sulking were legendary but on this occasion her father would not be moved.

  Louisa went to the kitchen and saw that Mrs Stobie had already gone to bed. There was no sign of Mrs Windsor and her sitting room was dark, so she must have finished her work. Quietly, Louisa went to the dining room and fetched four silver candlesticks and new candles, as well as a clean tablecloth from the side dresser. In her inability to do anything else – she was keenly feeling the frustration that she had no idea what Guy was doing about the threat to the Longs – at least she was busy.

  When Louisa came into the library she could see that Ada had cleared away the supper things earlier. Pamela was up and stoking the fire, putting another log on. Sebastian and Ted were leaning on the chimneypiece, smoking and talking to each other. There were several empty wine bottles already on the side and Louisa saw that the port decanter was half empty. Charlotte was on the sofa, clad in what had become her customary inky black, smoking. She didn’t stir at Louisa’s entrance but Pamela looked frightened. She had started to shake her head at Louisa, as if warning her off, only she did it too late as Nancy, who had been sitting by Clara on the window seat, jumped up and clapped her hands.

  ‘Oh goody! You’re here,’ she exclaimed.

  Charlotte looked up sharply. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Koko, I don’t really think we should…’ It was clear that Pamela’s nerves about ghosts had squashed her earlier acquiescence with the seance plan.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Nancy briskly. Louisa was reminded of Nanny silencing the claim by Unity that Father Christmas was actually Lord Redesdale. ‘Everyone,’ she went on smoothly, ‘we’re going to do a seance and try to talk to Adrian.’

  ‘I don’t think we bloody are.’ Charlotte threw her cigarette in the fire. ‘I don’t believe in any of that. It’s asking for trouble.’

  ‘Don’t you want to talk your brother?’ said Pamela, courage plucked.

  ‘You say that as if I were refusing to telephone him up. He’s dead. I can’t speak to him any more than I can take my head off and carry it.’

  ‘Well, if it’s not real there’s no harm in trying, is there?’ said Nancy. ‘And if it is real then we might find something out.’

  ‘What exactly might we find out?’ Sebastian had stretched out along the length of the sofa, Charlotte’s lap a cushion beneath his head.

  Louisa stood there, ignored, the candlesticks getting heavier by the second.

  ‘Who killed him, of course,’ Pamela said boldly.

  ‘We know who did that,’ said Seb, still horizontal, eyes hooded. ‘And she’s about to be sentenced to death for it.’

  ‘Louisa doesn’t think Dulcie is guilty.’ Nancy looked at her nursery maid as she said this, a direct challenge. Louisa felt herself go red and longed to put down the things in her arms.

  Ted turned on his heels, his back to the fire, and looked at Louisa as if seeing her for the first time. ‘You? What do you know?’

  Louisa’s tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth, her lips so dry they had stuck together. She tried to speak but couldn’t do it without difficulty. ‘I think someone else met Mr Curtis at the bell tower, before Dulcie got there.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’ Ted’s eyes had narrowed.

  Louisa had never wished more strongly that she could vanish in a puff of smoke. ‘It’s only a theory,’ she mumbled. Bloody Nancy.

  Charlotte pulled another cigarette out of her silver case and Louisa saw her fingers were trembling. It took two matches before she managed to light it.

  ‘Why haven’t any of you said anything to me?’ she muttered, as she struck the box.

  ‘Why don’t we ask Adrian?’ said Nancy, and she stood to take the candlesticks from Louisa. ‘Now is the perfect time.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Louisa laid the white cloth on the long table that had been set up for their supper earlier, then placed the four candles on it. Pamela lit them and Nancy turned off the electric lights. At this Charlotte stood and announced that she was going to bed.

&nbs
p; ‘No,’ said Nancy firmly. ‘Whatever you think of this, there’s the possibility that we could discover the truth behind your brother’s death. We have to try it.’

  ‘We know the truth,’ said Charlotte. ‘Our maid pushed him off the church tower. In case you’d forgotten, she’s in prison awaiting trial and nobody expects less than for her to be hanged for it.’

  ‘What if someone else was there that night, in the church?’ said Pamela.

  ‘Don’t be a child,’ snapped Ted, and Pamela blinked back fury.

  ‘You’re only a year older than me, you know,’ she said and he made a sort of conciliatory noise in response but said no more.

  Clara and Phoebe both stood and went to sit at the table in unison. Phoebe looked defiant, her good looks hardened by the shadows of the room. Louisa sensed that a large country house such as Asthall was not her natural habitat. At a party she could be beautiful and vivacious; at a small supper she seemed exposed. There were traces of a London accent that hinted at a more interesting background than the usual Home Counties set.

  Pamela stepped towards Charlotte and took her arm. ‘Come and sit down. Of course nobody is suggesting anything of the sort but we want to help. Let’s just try this.’

  ‘How is the spirit going to talk to us?’ asked Nancy. ‘We don’t have a Ouija board.’

  ‘We can put a glass of water on the table,’ said Pamela, ‘and ask the spirit to make the water move in answer to our questions. Louisa, would you do that, please?’ She sat down.

  Clara called out, her voice deliberately light, trying to ease the situation. ‘Come on, boys, join us. You’re all getting hot under the collar but it’s just for fun.’

  Sebastian came over in smooth, easy strides. ‘I don’t care one way or the other,’ he said, taking a seat beside Pamela. Charlotte looked at him then, as if he had betrayed her.

  Louisa fetched a glass and then the eight of them were sitting with their knees under the table, in the near darkness, with only the glow from the fire and the candlelight to reveal their faces.

  ‘We hold hands,’ instructed Pamela, ‘and then we ask Adrian if he is here. I’ll do it as only one of us can be the medium and I’m the one who believes in this.’

  Charlotte tutted but allowed her hands to be held by Pamela and Nancy, sitting on either side of her. Ted took Clara’s in one hand, Nancy’s in the other. Louisa sat on the other side of Phoebe, who was beside Pamela. On her other side was Sebastian.

  ‘Adrian Curtis, are you there?’

  Now that they were sitting there in the dark, the atmosphere was less strained. Nonetheless, Louisa was ill at ease holding Sebastian’s dry hand on one side, Phoebe’s tight grip on the other. She was glad that despite Pamela and Lord Redesdale’s fervent belief that Asthall Manor was haunted, she had never felt disturbed by any icy, mysterious presence. Nancy, too, had always declared herself impervious to any ghost. All the same, Louisa did have one idea for making this a useful exercise and she wasn’t above a gentle nudge in the right direction if necessary.

  There was complete silence and the glass of water remained as still as a stone.

  ‘Adrian, if you’re there, let us know by the water,’ said Pamela once more.

  Nancy rolled her eyes at this but Louisa saw that Charlotte was staring at the glass intently and she looked afraid.

  Rain spattered on the window and somewhere there was the sound of wood creaking, for which there were a number of innocent explanations but it made one or two of them shudder. Everyone had their eyes on the middle of the table when they saw the water in it shake slightly. Nancy gave a start. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Ssh,’ hushed Pamela. ‘Adrian, if it’s you, we want to ask you about…’ She appeared look for exactly the right phrase to use. ‘About the last time we saw you.’

  Again, the glass trembled. Louisa concentrated on making sure her feet were planted on the floor. Was it possible that one of them had knocking knees that were causing the tremors? Yes, it was entirely possible.

  And yet, and yet …

  Charlotte’s eyes were completely fixed on the glass.

  ‘We want to know the name of the last person you saw.’

  Sebastian tried to pull his hands away but both Pamela and Phoebe drew him back.

  ‘Aren’t we supposed to ask a question we know the answer to first?’ whispered Clara. ‘You know, to establish communication?’

  Ted barked a laugh. ‘We’re not actually doing this seriously, are we?’

  Nancy rebuked him. ‘We’re here now. We might as well.’

  Pamela tried again. ‘We want to know the name of the last person you saw. I will call out letters of the alphabet. Spell the name out by making the water move.’

  A tense quiet had stalked into the room.

  ‘A.’

  Nothing and nobody moved and it seemed that everyone’s breath was held.

  ‘B.’

  At this, the glass trembled.

  ‘B,’ acknowledged Pamela calmly, before she went back the start of the alphabet and this time the glass was still from ‘A’ until the letter ‘I’.

  There was a shifting between them, a reconfiguring of fingers and hands, prompted by sweat or stiffness. Charlotte’s breathing was growing shallower.

  Once more, Pamela stepped through the alphabet until at ‘L’ the glass shook again.

  Ted leapt up. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he shouted. ‘I’m not doing this any more. Someone is doing this and whoever it is, I’ll tell you one thing. It’s not bloody Adrian.’ He moved away from the table and Louisa saw the flare of the match on his face as he lit a cigarette.

  Charlotte had burst into tears and, whether it was her or something else, there was a jolt to the table and the glass was knocked over, spilling water fast over the smooth tablecloth, which made her scream and cover her face with her hands.

  ‘Stop this now,’ she said. ‘I insist. Stop it! Stop it!’

  Clara got up and switched the lights on. ‘I agree. Let’s have a drink and do something else,’ she said.

  Louisa had risen slightly ahead of her and reverted to her maid’s role, busily clearing away as if she hoped she could make them forget she had been sitting at the table. After all, it was the gentle pressure of her knees on the tabletop that had produced the desired effect.

  What she really wanted to know, however, was why the letters ‘B.I.L.’ had made Ted tremble from head to foot.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Guy knew that the answer wasn’t to post a policeman on watch outside Marie Long’s house. If seen, it could only worsen Alice Diamond’s rage against the family. Nor would it be possible to put someone undercover nearby. No motor car could sit unobserved for even a day in a Lambeth street without raising suspicion. Besides, Cornish would never agree to it. There wasn’t enough to go on, only a nebulous threat that the Forty might exact some kind of revenge on the Longs at some point. What they needed to know was when Alice would strike and where. And he needed to find Billy Masters.

  There was another problem: the only people he knew who could identify Billy were Dulcie Long and her father but they would both have their reasons for keeping quiet.

  Mary and Guy were in the station the following day, tired and fretful.

  ‘We have to warn Dulcie’s family,’ said Mary.

  ‘I don’t see what good it could do except frighten them,’ argued Guy. ‘It’s not as if they don’t already know that they have angered the Forty.’

  ‘But they’ve got the little boy with them now. Supposing he’s in danger, too.’

  Guy sighed. ‘If we find Billy Masters then it’s probable we’ve got the man who killed Adrian Curtis, or knows who killed him. They’re part of the same network. That will mean Dulcie is free to go. She and her family can do what they like then.’

  ‘It’s no kind of freedom if the Forty think Dulcie gave Billy up to the police. Where would the Longs go? They can’t all just up sticks and move house. It’s not as easy as that, G
uy.’ Mary gave him a reproachful look. ‘You know it’s not.’

  ‘Yes, I do know. But I also know that I’m a policeman and my job is to solve crimes. The most important thing is that we find Billy Masters.’

  They both drained their cups. On this point they weren’t going to agree but did it really matter? They had no leads. Where he might be was as much of a mystery as before. What’s more, if he was on the run from a murder, he could be anywhere.

  ‘There’s only one answer,’ said Guy. ‘We’re going to have to talk to Dulcie, maybe even interview her father and sister.’

  ‘It will endanger them,’ said Mary.

  Guy was resolute. ‘We have no choice.’

  * * *

  It took some persuading to get permission from DI Cornish to interview Dulcie Long at Holloway Prison as, officially, the incarcerated maid was being held as part of a murder investigation by the local constabulary in Oxfordshire. But given that Cornish was running his own criminal investigation into Alice Diamond and the Forty, of which Dulcie was a part, there was a strong case for his involvement.

  ‘Always causes bad blood,’ said Cornish. ‘Provincials are as territorial over their cases as Jack Russells. You’d better bring back something worth having.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Guy. ‘We’re getting closer, sir. I know it.’ He hadn’t told Cornish about Mary’s encounter with Alice Diamond in the Elephant and Castle. How could he? They’d had no warrant, no protection. He’d had absolutely no right to send Mary in there. The more he thought about it, the more foolhardy he realised they had been. Supposing she and Louisa had been badly beaten? Instead, he’d told Cornish that he’d had a tip-off about Billy Masters as a fence from a source at the 43. That was enough. It didn’t need to be about the murder investigation at all, so far as his superiors were concerned. Not, at least, until he had presented them with the prize evidence he was after, and he was surer than ever that he could do this. That would get him a promotion to the CID, which would mean proper pay. More than that. It would mean respect.