The Mill on the Shore

by Ann Cleeves

  ‘Soon after that he told me that he was resigning from the magazine,’ she said with some impatience.

  ‘Were you surprised?’

  ‘I was bloody angry,’ Christabel said, surprising him with her vehemence. ‘Meg had always resented the time he spent on Green Scenes. She wanted him home, playing the model father. Still in the public eye, of course. She liked the reflected glory. A few bits of telly that weren’t too demanding or controversial But not the commitment that Green Scenes involved. She got him to resign when he was at his most vulnerable. He regretted it almost immediately after but he’d given his word then and he felt he ought to go along with it. He was quite honourable, you know, in a silly upper-class way.’ She paused. ‘I still don’t know how she persuaded him to do it,’ she said bitterly. ‘She must be some sort of witch.’

  ‘And he never mentioned the article again,’ George said.

  ‘No, and after it went through the shredder, nor did I.’

  ‘What about Aidan Moore?’ George asked. ‘ He must have had some idea what it was about. Couldn’t you have asked him?’

  ‘I could have tried,’ she said, ‘though I’m not sure he would have told me. But it would have been a sneaky sort of thing to do. Jimmy didn’t want me to know and I suppose he had his reasons. Besides, Aidan wasn’t here much after that. At around that time he got his first big commission illustrating a prestigious new field guide. He never came back to Green Scenes to work again.’

  ‘I see,’ George said. ‘ Well, thanks very much for your help.’ He was about to replace the receiver when he had a sudden thought. ‘Did Jimmy shred the original letter? The one that started all the excitement, giving information on the pollution incident and arranging the meeting in the pub?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘He didn’t shred that.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve still got it in your magnificent filing system?’

  ‘Flattery won’t do you any good, George,’ she said. ‘I had kept the letter. But Jimmy sent for it when he first started writing his autobiography. And there was no copy.’

  ‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes, I see.’

  He found Meg in the schoolroom. She was reading Gerard Manley Hopkins to the children.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you,’ he said when she had finished. ‘ I was hoping for a word …’

  ‘Of course,’ she said graciously. She turned back to the children. ‘Why don’t you try something of your own? In a similar style? There’s inspiration enough here. You only have to look out of the window to understand what the poet felt about nature.’

  Caitlin raised her eyes to the ceiling implying that she could think of nothing more tedious. Meg judicially ignored her and swept from the room.

  ‘We’ll talk in the flat,’ she said. ‘We’ll be more comfortable there.’

  In the flat she offered him tea, made sure he had the best seat by the fire, gave him her full attention.

  ‘I need to ask you about the weekend of James’ accident,’ he said. ‘Can you remember the circumstances surrounding the car crash?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It was a nightmare. Though I don’t know what it can have had to do with his death.’

  ‘Please bear with me,’ he said. ‘I do think it’s important.’

  She nodded indulgently. He sensed she was definitely more well disposed to him without Molly.

  ‘What would you like to know?’

  ‘What was James working on at the time?’

  ‘Oh,’ she said dismissively, ‘ as to that I don’t know. How would I? I was never involved in his work.’

  ‘He never discussed it with you?’

  ‘He may have discussed it,’ she said. ‘And of course I listened. But it didn’t mean very much to me.’ She watched his reaction closely. She wants to see if I believe her, he thought in astonishment But why should she lie?

  ‘If work took him away from home you must have asked where he was going and how long he would be away.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. Then tartly: ‘But he didn’t always tell me. “I’ll go where the story takes me,” he would say. It was rather inconsiderate.’ She paused. ‘ I suppose brilliant men often are.’

  ‘Had he been working away from home before collecting Hannah on that Friday night?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I rather think he had.’ She appeared to give the matter further thought. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘ He left home on the Wednesday. He never phoned if he was away and I was worried that he would become so engrossed in whatever he was working on that he would forget to pick her up.’

  ‘Had Hannah’s visit been arranged a long time in advance?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘ Just the day he went away. It was James’ idea to invite her. He said it would tie in very nicely with his plans. He did love his children, George, but only when it was convenient.’

  ‘So you had the impression that he was working here in this area, and he would be able to collect Hannah easily?’

  ‘No,’ she said sharply, ‘I didn’t say that at all.’ Then: ‘I don’t mean to be rude, George, but I don’t think this is relevant to your enquiry. If I were you I would leave it alone.’

  He had the feeling that he was being warned off but he persisted.

  ‘Did he ever give you the impression that the car crash might not have been an accident?’

  ‘Whatever do you mean, George?’

  ‘That there had been some deliberate attempt to cause the crash, that the car had been tampered with in some way?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s impossible. Who would do such a thing?’

  But as she spoke he suspected that she was considering the matter and that she found the idea interesting.

  ‘No,’ she said again, less certainly. ‘ I’m sure there was nothing like that.’

  Chapter Twelve

  While George was with Meg, Molly sought out Rosie and Jane. She had been intrigued by the phone call to Christabel Burns but was still interested in the emotional relationships in the case. She especially wanted to find out more about Grace Sharland. The girls seemed to have opinions about everyone connected with the Mill. What had they made of the nurse and her visits to Jimmy Morrissey?

  The housekeepers accepted Molly into their realm behind the dining-room door and treated her as if she were a favourite eccentric aunt. They thought she was escaping from Meg and the family and that amused them. Most of their jokes were at Meg’s expense.

  When Molly found them they were in the laundry which backed on to the kitchen. They were working together as if performing some elaborate dance, pulling bedspreads out of a large tumble-dryer then facing each other to stretch and fold them ready for ironing.

  ‘Meg thought we needed something to do,’ Jane said. ‘ She came into the kitchen first thing: “ I know it’s a bit early for spring-cleaning, girls, but as it’s quiet we might as well get on with some of those jobs that usually get left until the end of the season.”’ She mimicked the voice with surprising accuracy, catching the pretension, the hint of Welsh. ‘ So we’re washing all the curtains and bedspreads from the dormitories. As if we hadn’t got anything better to do. No peace for the wicked, I suppose.’

  ‘I think she’s got worse since James died,’ Rosie said, bending to pull another quilt from the dryer. ‘I can’t stand being bossed around. It reminds me of being in care, in that bloody children’s home. That nearly drove me round the bloody bend. I’m not getting screwed up like that again just for Meg Morrissey.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jane said. ‘It probably wasn’t much worse than that ghastly school I went to.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ Rosie said bitterly. ‘A building like a workhouse run by sadists …’

  ‘Like I said, just the same as my school.’

  ‘At least you got to go home at night.’ But some of the bitterness had dissipated and as she leaned forward to take the bedspread from Jane she added: ‘They taught me to cook so I suppose they were doing me
a favour. They thought they were fitting us best for adult life by giving us domestic skills. But since then I haven’t been able to stand being pushed around.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to laugh,’ Jane said. ‘I hadn’t realized it was so bad.’

  ‘No,’ Rosie said. ‘Well. I try not to let it get in the way. It’s only at times like this when Meg decides to play the high-and-mighty lady that it bugs me. And then she gives us all that crap about struggling to keep the family together. It’s easy enough for her, isn’t it? Even with James gone. She’s got money, a bloody lovely house and folks like us to do the skivvying for her.’ She slammed the dryer door shut. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I must be having a bad day. Let’s forget about the wonder mother and get the kettle on.’

  ‘You should talk about it more often,’ Jane said. ‘ Not keep it all bottled up.’

  ‘Nah! Who’d want to hear about it?’

  ‘I would,’ Jane said gently. ‘I would.’ She lifted the laundry into a basket and set it on the floor. ‘ No one ever talked to me at home. They were all too busy with their careers and their smart friends. You shouldn’t be jealous of the Morrisseys. Would you like Meg as a mother?’ She grinned and mimicked her again. ‘“We have great expectations of you all.”’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Rosie said smiling. ‘You’re right. It can’t be a bundle of laughs living with that.’

  She led them into the kitchen, made tea and set out chocolate biscuits. ‘Come on then, Molly,’ she said when they were settled at the table. ‘Tell us how the investigation’s going. Do you have any idea yet whodunnit?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Molly said, ignoring the flippant tone. ‘George thinks it might have something to do with a story Jimmy was working on at Green Scenes just before he retired. He never mentioned anything like that to you?’

  ‘We’re only the hired hands,’ Rosie said with a return of the old bitterness. ‘Why should he talk to us about his work?’ She paused. ‘Have you found the autobiography yet?’

  Molly shook her head.

  ‘And you?’ Jane asked her quietly. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Oh,’ Molly said. ‘I rather think it might be something more personal, you know. Murder’s seldom a calculated crime.’ She paused. ‘I met Grace Sharland yesterday …’ An unspoken question hung in the air.

  ‘And you think she might be the personal element in the investigation?’ Jane seemed glad of the change of subject. Perhaps she thought the gossip would distract Rosie and cheer her up.

  ‘She’s a very attractive young woman,’ Molly said. ‘I wondered if there was ever any talk …’

  ‘About her and James?’

  Molly nodded. ‘He was obviously close to her.’

  ‘He fancied her like crazy,’ Jane said. She looked at Rosie, hoping to involve her in the scandal and lift her gloom. ‘Didn’t he, Rosie? Anyone could see that.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she said, but she still seemed preoccupied.

  ‘Of course he did. Don’t you remember that time when he went for a walk on the beach with her? Everyone else was out but us and they must have thought we couldn’t see them. But there’s a pair of binoculars in the common room and we watched them through those. They were walking side by side like an old married couple.’

  ‘Oh Jane, that’s outrageous,’ Rosie said, roused at last from her brooding. ‘Those binoculars have been out of focus since Tim dropped them on the floor. And they were miles away. All you could see was a couple of shapes. They were probably talking. Or perhaps he was upset and she was comforting him. It was some sort of therapy.’

  ‘I bet it was!’ Jane said. She rolled her eyes and made them laugh. ‘Grace might live in splendid isolation in that posh new house but you know what a reputation she’s got.’

  ‘You know her socially?’ Molly asked.

  ‘We do get let out of this place occasionally,’ Jane said. ‘It’s not quite a prison, whatever Rosie might tell you. When I moved up here my parents gave me a second-hand Mini. A sort of consolation prize for being a failure. At least it means we can escape during our times off. Usually we just go to the pub in the village but sometimes we go to Mardon for a change. The night life isn’t terribly sophisticated but there’s a folk club in one of the pubs and a group of us meet up there once a week. I suppose you could say that Grace is one of the gang. Or she was. She hasn’t been around much lately.’

  ‘Tell me about her,’ Molly said.

  ‘Duckie, where shall I start?’ Jane was enjoying herself enormously. ‘Her mother died when she was little but she certainly didn’t have a deprived childhood. There was loadsa money. Her dad was a director at Mardon Wools till he retired.’

  ‘Was he?’ Rosie was definitely interested now. ‘ I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Didn’t you, dear? You can’t have been listening to the right people. She was always a bit wild. In the end she got sent away to one of those progressive boarding schools where you only have to work if you feel like it. She was an only child and spoilt rotten. Daddy hoped she’d do some sort of business management course and follow in the family footsteps but she surprised him and opted for nursing. Daddy thought that was a bit beneath her. What would she do with a bedpan? But when she decided to go in for psychiatry he was horrified. He hated the idea of his little girl being mixed up with those loonies. For years he kept up a determined campaign to persuade her to change her mind. In the end he bought her that smart house by the river just before he retired. Perhaps it was a final attempt to get her to join the family firm. Obviously it didn’t work but they say he became resigned to the idea of her nursing in the last few months, and he’s almost proud of her now.’

  ‘They?’ Rosie interrupted in astonishment. ‘Who are they? Jane, where did you get all that information?’

  ‘By listening,’ Jane said, suddenly serious again. ‘I’m always telling you that I’m a good listener.’ She turned to Molly in explanation. ‘Look, I’m not very good in company. Shy, I suppose. My parents always left me with the impression that I had nothing worth saying. So in the pub when the music’s finished and Rosie’s being the life and soul of the party I’m usually sitting in a corner eavesdropping. I live a sheltered life and get all my excitement second-hand. You’d be amazed at some of the things people say when they think they can’t be overheard.’

  ‘And in those conversations, did the subject of Grace’s boyfriends come up?’

  ‘All the time,’ Jane said. ‘As you say she’s a very attractive woman, very sought after. And getting on now. Thirty-five next birthday. Her name must have been linked with most of the eligible men in the county. Though if they were after her money they must have been disappointed.’

  ‘And in all this gossip there was never any talk about an intimate relationship with Jimmy Morrissey?’

  ‘No, but then there wouldn’t be. James was something of a local celebrity of course. Most people had seen the repeats of his programmes on the telly. But he was quite a recluse. And no one would have considered him Grace’s type. He was so old for one thing. Besides, she always went for the flash and the irresponsible, usually the younger sons of county families. The rural equivalent I suppose of the yuppie.’

  ‘But nothing serious?’ Molly asked. ‘ There was no prospect, for example, of marriage?’

  ‘Definitely nothing serious,’ Jane said. ‘At least not since we’ve been here. I heard her say once that she saved all her emotional involvement for her work. Everything else had to be fun. There was only one man in her life and that was her father.’

  ‘What about before you lived here? In her past?’

  ‘She was engaged once,’ Jane said. ‘Apparently she was mad about the bloke. Besotted. He was a conservationist. A bit like James, I suppose. Perhaps she had a thing about green wellies. He dumped her six months before the wedding and went off to Malawi to do a research project into fish for an aid agency. I think that’s the story anyway. No wonder she was put off serious commitment.’

  ‘F
ish,’ Molly said. ‘ I suppose that would have made him a marine biologist?’

  ‘What? Yes, I suppose so.’ Jane was losing interest. This was all past history.

  ‘I don’t expect you ever knew his name,’ Molly said casually. ‘Or who he was working for?’

  Jane thought hard. It was a challenge. ‘He was called Nick,’ she said at last, triumphantly. ‘I never knew his surname. And he was working for the water authority. Apparently he spent a lot of his time up to his thighs in the river taking water samples. It didn’t sound much of a job.’

  Molly changed the subject as if Grace’s ex-fiancé held no interest for her.

  ‘When did it first occur to you that Grace and Jimmy might be emotionally involved?’ she asked.

  ‘It never occurred to me,’ Rosie said quickly. ‘ It’s all in Jane’s imagination.’

  ‘When James started to shake off his depression something had to be giving him an interest in life again,’ Jane said. ‘And it certainly wasn’t Meg.’

  ‘You don’t think it was starting work on the autobiography then?’ Molly said. ‘That seems to have been most people’s opinion.’

  ‘No,’ Jane said. ‘It was sex. Nothing like sex to buck you up. Wouldn’t you say?’

  It was so unlike her to be worldly wise, so outside her own experience that they began to laugh again.

  When Molly left the kitchen she found Ruth in the schoolroom. It was almost lunch-time and the others had drifted away. Their scraps of poetry were scattered over the table. Ruth was reading and was concentrating so hard that she did not hear Molly come in. Only when the door closed behind her did she look up.

  ‘If you’re looking for your husband I think he’s with Mother,’ she said. ‘They’re probably still in the flat.’

  ‘No,’ Molly said. ‘I wanted to talk to you. About Aidan. You must have some idea why he left so suddenly. You were friends, weren’t you?’

  ‘I thought so,’ Ruth said.

  ‘When did you first meet?’

  ‘Ages ago. Soon after Mother married James. He won a painting competition and James invited him to the house for supper. I was very young but I remember how shy he was. It must have been a terrible ordeal for him. Mother was pregnant with Emily and Tim was just a toddler. It was a big house full of toys and children, terribly embarrassing, don’t you think, for a teenage boy to cope with. He dropped his fork during the meal and blushed like a turnip. I thought he was quite grown up but I still felt sorry for him.’