“That doctor seemed to be spending a great amount of time with her,” said Roderick, “A bit odd, that, I thought at the time. Then it turns out that Mummy leaves him a legacy. Surely that’s a bit dubious inspector. Don’t these physician take an oath or something?”
“Yes, about preserving life, I believe. I don’t think it involves refusing legacies…but, anyway, I should think you would be better off talking to your solicitor about that. To return to your stepmother, would you say you ever saw any signs of depression signs that she might harm herself?”
Again, the girl laughed. Greene was finding her very irritating.
“Sorry, inspector, but it’s so ridiculous, mummy, harming herself. She was a happy, cheerful woman…saw the best in life. In fact, she was annoyingly optimistic at times, wouldn’t you say, Rodders?”
“Yes, Mummy doing anything like that is out of the question.”
“You were both born in the States?”
Roderick answered. “Yes, ma died when I was six and Caroline was three. Dad was a successful businessman. I suppose you could say, a magnate. He mourned our mother for five years, then on a business trip to London, he met mummy, Elizabeth. They overcame the difficulties of the distance. She came out first, became our stepmom and eventually dad came here. I think he fell in love with the country as well as with mummy.”
“And there were no problems, none of the stories you hear about wicked stepmothers, that sort of thing.”
“Good gracious, Inspector, certainly not. I say, I know what they say about the straight-talking Yorkshire man and all that, but you’re the business, aren’t you? Getting straight to the point, I mean.”
Greene’s expression didn’t change “Well, yes, sir, if you like, I find it saves a lot of time, in the end. You work, in your father’s business?” Greene threw the last in quickly, disconcerting the lounging youth, who apparently liked to steer the pace.
“Well, yes, I pop into the old office, the head office every so often…couple of times a week maybe, see that everything is ticking over nicely—which it usually is, as my old dad appointed a top team. There’s a sort of partner chap, Wilkinson, who has his finger on the pulse and a rock-solid board of directors.”
Mmm, sounds like our man here is surplus to requirements. “How old were you when your father died, Mr. Horton?” Greene asked.
“Just eighteen, just gone up to university.”
“So, no time to get a handle on the business, then?
“Not really, no. Maybe if the old man had lived a bit longer, but…well there you go Inspector. That’s how the thing played out.”
“I don’t suppose your stepmother involved much in the running of Butler’s?”
They both looked at him. In Caroline’s case, with a grin on her face. She had the sort of mouth that would be poor at hiding her feelings.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Inspector,” Roderick said. Mummy may have lived in Yorkshire, and not have been in the best of health, but she took a very keen interest in the business. She attended some of the major meetings, followed the stock market, and had the directors up to Yorkshire sometimes for the weekend.”
Greene couldn’t be sure of the tone of voice behind these words. They were lightly spoken, but there was an undertone of something. It could have been respect; on the other hand, it could have been slight mockery. Greene had the distinct impression that beneath the breeziness was an unhappy young man. The girl wasn’t so hard to make out. The passion was in her voice when she spoke that nonsense about the pictures. Then again, maybe it wasn’t nonsense. If you had the money, no doubt a lot of doors magically opened for you. And, Greene had had to revise his impression of her. She might not be Clara Bow, certainly not your normal beauty, but the girl had something.
“Never envy the idle rich,” he told Brown apropos of nothing particular, as they had a cup of tea and a sandwich before setting back on the journey north.
“How do you mean, sir?” Brown asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Well, take young fella-me-lad there today. More money than is good for him and dissatisfied with life.”
Brown said nothing.
* * *
“How have you been feeling in the last few days, Edith? Any change?
Edith shook her head, and clasped her shaking hands. Dr. Uxbridge looked at her, though not in a threatening way. He sat at an angle to her. He had come out from behind his desk. Edith had never known any doctor to do that.
“Are you sleeping?” he asked.
“Fairly well, but it’s hard to wake up.”
“That’s normal. It’s the medication. How about your appetite?”
“All right.” She was being uncommunicative, rude even but at least she was talking.
“And your mood? Is there any change.”
She couldn’t answer that, not honestly. If she did, they would never let her out of this place. And she was sure she wanted to get out, get home, and start pulling her weight again. She wasn’t being fair to anyone. There were things she needed to put right. “Maybe a little less low,” she said. “I haven’t lost control, thought things that weren’t true…”
He spoke gently. “Again, we can’t know for sure that the medication isn’t playing a part in that. Maybe covering things a bit.
That was like a slap in the face. “But that’s awful then, doctor. I mean what is the point in that? If my feelings are just being dampened down. How do I even know if and when I will get better?” She could hear her voice rise and her heart pound
“It isn’t that bad, Edith. The medication plays its part, as you say. It dampens down the worst of the depression. How you felt before you were admitted? Nothing else, all the talking in the world would not have done you any good at that point, would it?”
She shook her head, calmer. It made sense.
“You worked as a nurse in the war, in a field hospital for a while then back at St Thomas’ am I right?”
“Yes,”
“So you saw both ends of it. You saw the things that doctors and nurses did on the spot, bandaging, staunching, cauterising, patching up. But the slow slog didn’t start immediately—did it? The months of slow therapy and rehabilitation?”
Yes, it made sense to her now.
“I am thinking in terms of a weekend pass, fairly soon. Maybe a week tomorrow?”
Her heart began to race fast again, but in joy and anticipation this time. But, as a doubt struck her, the doctor put it into words.
“You live with your brother, in his practice, part of the house where he has his surgery. Am I right?
She nodded.
“Has he been in to see you lately? We would need to speak to him, you understand? Before we could release you.”
Edith had not acknowledged it yet to herself, but there was an added sense of unease, and it was about Archie. He had not been to the hospital in the last week. In fact, it must be coming up to two weeks since he had last visited. He’d little to say on that occasion, but she had been emerging from the worst period of blackness and been preoccupied with functioning, in putting one foot in front of the other.
But, looking back now, he hadn’t stayed long and had been even more taciturn than usual. He hadn’t always been like that, but they had both changed. She didn’t want to show any hint of this to Dr. Uxbridge. “I think Archie should be in to see me shortly. I’ll talk to him about it then, ask him to see you.”
Regardless, of her unease about Archie, Edith was buoyed up as she went with the nurse back to her ward. She was getting better. She was getting a weekend pass. She had turned a corner.
* * *
She hadn’t needed a straitjacket the first days after they had brought her to this place. She had been her own straitjacket, legs curled up and arms tightly clasped around her body. First thing, they had made her strip and get into a bath, where there was some sort of disinfectant and then she had been given a coarse brown dress to put on. Anything that might cause possible harm, from a comb to a
small mirror, to her belts was removed.
She felt like a prisoner or maybe a nun. All individuality gone; her spirit broken being shown who was in charge from the start. But, it did eventually get better, once she learned to play the game. She could measure her days, then the months and eventually the years, by the way she had played it. At first after they had taken away her spirit, she had drawn into herself to a place in her head that wasn’t peaceful—never that—but that allowed her not to mind.
So, at that stage of her time in this place, they mainly left her alone, concentrating instead on the ones who gave them the most trouble. In time, she would become one of those, but not yet.
* * *
“Archie, you are being an absolute pig. You can’t do this to her. You can’t. What do you think this is going to do to the poor girl?”
Julia Etherington stood in front of Archie’s desk, holding onto the edges, staring at Archie. She and he had exchanged insults before, they had always had this thing of knocking spots off the other, but this was in a different realm altogether.
Julie had had a feeling something was awry. The excuse of Archie’s being always busy had worn thin and she began to wonder if there wasn’t something more behind the fact he hadn’t visited Edith.
So after a troubling visit to St Bride’s she’d driven straight to Ellbeck. She would not be missed at home. Giles was staying in London overnight on business and Bea was staying at her uncle’s farm, with her favourite cousin, Daisy.
“She’s not ready to come home,” had been Archie’s reaction to the news about the weekend pass.
Julia had no longer been able to disregard the elephant in the room. “You haven’t been to see her for a while. She’s noticed you know, Archie. She hasn’t said a lot, but I know she’s wondering. And her doctor, Dr. Uxbridge wants to speak to you first before they let her home for the weekend.”
“What are you talking about—home for the weekend? That’s ludicrous. There is no way she is anywhere near being ready to leave that hospital. I can’t believe they are even considering it.”
“She is getting better, Archie, more like herself. I hate to say this, but you would know if you visited.” She had overstepped the mark. It was clear even before he began speaking to her in icy tones.
“How dare you judge me, Julia? I’m sorry to have to speak to you like this and, I know I sound pompous. Fair enough, you have her best interests at heart. I know you and Edith, myself too for that matter, go back a long way. We’ve been through a lot together. But, you have gone too far. You shouldn’t judge me. You have no idea what the past couple of months have been like in this house.”
“Well, tell me then Archie” For a minute she thought he was going to. He got up, went over to the window that looked out into the back garden of the house, his patients’ privacy protected from passers-by.
“She can’t come home, not yet. I can’t look after her. I have police here every other day. The practice is in trouble and I have too much on my plate. Later on, when she’s properly better. I can’t see the point of these weekend passes, at any rate, never have been able to. Well and good, when the patient is better, ready to come home. What’s the point in building up hopes too soon and then having to go back again on the Sunday night?”
That’s when Julia’s fury erupted.
Archie just looked at her steadily, didn’t resume his seat. He was as good as telling her to leave. Well, all right, I will leave, but not without a last word. “If you don’t want her home, and by the way, I think your excuses are pathetic, at least have the decency to go up there and tell her that.” She left the room without looking at him again.
Thank God, Giles is away tonight. One supercilious remark from him and I might end up in the bed next to Edith.
* * *
Archie poured himself a drink and was going to build up the fire Mrs. Braithwaite had laid when the house telephone rang.
“Archie, dear.”
He sighed, sat down in the hall chair, and wished he’d had the forethought to bring his drink with him
“You must be busy, my dear,”
Aunt Alicia code for why haven’t you been to see me? Stop it. She’s elderly and lonely and no doubt, worried about Edith.
A thought—a saving thought struck him. “Aunt Alicia,” he said, “they are talking about releasing Edith from the hospital, only for the weekend. I wondered …I’m out and about and as you know, the house here is like a train station, people coming and going. She’d have little peace, people gawping at her, making her feel uncomfortable…”
“Of course, Archie.” The pleasure in his aunt’s voice was genuine. Goodness me, there isn’t anything in the world I’d like more. Dear Edith must come here for the weekend—in fact for as long as she likes. I’ll get the spare room ready for her immediately. I’ll get Esther to make everything nice for her…”
Chapter 5
“So where are you up to in talking to the house staff, Brown? Time is flying by. We are already starting from way back in the field, due to the fact that our friend, Horton, certified the death as natural causes, heart failure. We don’t want to lose any more time.”
“I have only spoken to Jock Braithwaite, who used to do odd jobs, and some driving for Mrs. Butler…he saw nothing and knows nothing. Shifty type, isn’t he?”
Greene interrupted sharply. “Related to Horton’s housekeeper and the young one who works for the spinster sisters?”
“Yes, that’s right, husband and father. I‘m tracking down the woman who did the cooking, a Mrs. Whitchurch. The thing is, sir, she’s away, and I haven’t been able to catch the woman who used to do the rough…Stella Sattherthwaite.
“And why not? Come on lad, you need to be shaping up better than this.”
Brown flushed. It was so unfair; the old sod knew the reason he hadn’t interviewed everyone who set foot in Mrs. Butler’s house, Brook House, was Greene had him buzzing around like a blue-arsed fly. But Brown knew when to keep his mouth shut.
The one thing that drove the boss insane was what he called whingeing. Brown was actually going to see the Sattherthwaite piece this afternoon. He was quite looking forward to that. An image of blonde, candyfloss-soft hair and very red-painted lips swam before his eyes. She was an exotic flower indeed for these parts.
With a bit of luck as well, there might be a trip to London along the line. Brown had been too young for the war and had often secretly regretted the missed chance of a bit of travel. Mind you, it didn’t pay to go around saying that sort of thing.
“Call back on them two old dears in the shop this afternoon, there’s something amiss there. Have a scout around. See if there are any suspicious looking pieces of paper and so on. I mean there wouldn’t be any trouble with stamps, now, would there?”
He chortled at his own wit, and left Brown wondering how he could fit Stella and the Sowerby sisters in.
* * *
Cathy was miserable. Everywhere she looked there were people wrapped up in their own troubles. She had no one to talk to. There had been a girl at school, Elsie, but since she had gone into service at the Arbuthnot’s, it seemed she had found other friends.
It was stupid; working in a shop wasn’t anything special, not exactly a cut above domestic service or anything. But, sometimes Cathy wondered if she’d set herself apart from her friends. She took her sandwiches round to the yard at the back of the shop, where the hanging baskets were past their best.
The sisters didn’t mind Cathy sitting here when the weather was good, though they had told her she was welcome to join them in the kitchen when the shop closed at twelve for an hour. She did sometimes, to be polite, but what she liked best of all was an hour to herself, to read her library book and be quiet.
Work had been her refuge from the misery of home. But even that wasn’t the case now. Now, she was lucky to get a word out of either Miss Marjorie, or Miss Prudence. She couldn’t think what could have happened to cause this rift. The truth was they weren’t
speaking to each other at all. Only when they had to, and they even used her at times to pass messages back and forwards.
Cathy sometimes thought she would like to do something more with her life than serve in a shop, but she had no encouragement at home, once her father returned from the South.
It had been something she’d heard at school that had made Cathy wonder why her father hadn’t returned straight from the war like other fathers. Those who hadn’t been killed, that was.
She’d asked her mother. “Mam, why hasn’t dad come home? Is he going to come home?” She would never forget the expression on her mother’s face as she answered her.
“Best not to talk about it, Cathy, your father got a job down south from some important man he met during the war. You know he sends money, for you and John, that’s all anyone needs to know.”
It hadn’t been the words, but her face, like a distancing, a shutting down. She had often seen that look on the faces of adults when they talked in hushed voices, using stupid meaningless phrases, like, “one of those,” “the usual trouble,” and “no better than she ought.” Though she was sixteen now, Cathy still didn’t feel she belonged to the world where people talked like that and understood what it all meant.
“You have a very responsible job, here, Cathy,” Miss Marjorie had said to her on her first day. Discretion is of the utmost important. You discover all sorts of things about people, through the post office, telegrams and so forth. It is a privileged position, and not a word that passes in this shop must ever be repeated outside these four walls. Do you understand, Cathy?”
Cathy had nodded, feeling as if she had been chastised for something she hadn’t done. She had never since heard Miss Marjorie use that exact tone of voice. She had almost lost her Yorkshire accent, in the solemnity of what she was saying. As far as Cathy knew, she had kept to her word and not broken any confidences.
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