Diana was shocked. She wanted her mother to pack a bag and go up north at once, that very day. ‘You mustn’t stay there any longer, and that’s flat!’
‘No, no, dear. It’s quite all right …’
When Ellie had lifted the phone to call Diana, she’d been half hoping that her daughter would renew her invitation to go up north to stay with them. But once the offer had been made, Ellie discovered she did not want to go. Anyway, it had been more of a command than an offer, and Ellie really did not like being bossed around by her daughter, however well-meaning.
Today I am going to be very positive, Ellie told herself. I am not going to take any more pills. I am going to set myself a job to do and I am going to do it. I will not get distracted. I will return our library books. I will be good and phone Aunt Drusilla to see how she’s getting on. I will buy and cook a proper meal and eat it.
But first she must throw out the half-dead flowers; and in particular the lilies which were fading to brown in their unsuitably small vase. As she picked them up Ellie glanced at herself in the mirror to see that she was neat and tidy.
Frank hadn’t liked her to flaunt herself in bright colours or wear makeup other than a little pink lipstick. Her short curly hair had turned silver early. Ellie thought this made her look dowdy and had been surprised to overhear a neighbour refer to her as ‘an attractive little thing!’
That had been a boost to her morale.
She never wore black, as Frank had believed it was too harsh for her fair skin. Today she wore a cream and blue wool top and a blue skirt, which had pockets in it and was full enough to be comfortable.
Her mother – long dead – had always said, ‘Cover your knees, dear, and always keep them together in company.’
Aunt Drusilla had said, ‘Why don’t you go on a diet? Men can’t be expected to be faithful to women who let themselves go.’
Ellie shook her head. Frank had been faithful to her, she thought. And if he hadn’t been, she did not wish to know about it.
Ellie saw that Mrs Dawes had left her comb behind on the table under the mirror. Another job for her to do …
Mrs Dawes ushered Ellie into her tiny terraced house.
‘Come in, dear. I’m glad to see someone. Could you get me one or
two things from the shops? I’m all of a twitch, daren’t go out. The doctor
said I should keep warm and try not to think about it. So did the vicar. Did
you know he was talking to the lad just before he died?’
Ellie was pushed down into a chair. The room was small, overcrowded
with brown furniture and too warm for comfort. Resignedly, Ellie set
herself to be the listener Mrs Dawes needed.
‘It wasn’t one of the central heating men, dear. Chloe came in to see
me after she finished work last night …’
Ellie thought she ought to know who Chloe was, but for the life of her
she couldn’t remember.
Mrs Dawes tutted with impatience. ‘Chloe, my granddaughter? Taking
a year off before going to university? She’s saving up to travel round the
world, wants to go backpacking in Australia – sounds dreadful to me,
but that’s what all these young people want to do. Anyway, she needs
money so she’s working part time at Sunflowers, the new café in the
Avenue where they have all those good pastries. Well, Chloe says the
central heating men went in the café after the police had finished with
them. So it wasn’t one of them. Which is a blessing in disguise really
because if it had been one of them, the heating would never have been
back on again for Sunday, would it? And there’s nothing worse than a
cold church, I always say.’
‘So do they know who …?’
‘Mmhm. The vicar told me when he called to see if I was all right. He’d
gone into the church yesterday lunchtime. He used the main door, of
course, because that’s the one nearest the vicarage. Anyway, he found
the police there, photographing and all that. They asked him to take a look just in case he knew the man and of course he did, so that made
things easier.’
‘And who …?’
Mrs Dawes sniffed. ‘That no good son of Mrs Hanna’s, all mouth and
trousers and both of them needing a good wash out with soap, if you
want my not-so-humble opinion. He’ll not be missed.’
Again Ellie found she couldn’t put a face to a name.
‘Had a big stereo in his van, you could hear him coming a mile off.
Flashy. Earrings and nose stud. No job, of course.’
Ellie nodded. She knew who it was now. Mrs Hanna worked in the
bakery in the Avenue. A nice woman, her speech still heavily accented
after all these years in Britain. Young Ferdy had been both the pride and
despair of her life.
‘How do they think …?’
‘Hit and run, the vicar thought; though the police wouldn’t say, of course.’ Ellie’s imagination produced a vision of young Ferdy being run down
inside the church by a giant tank. She suppressed a smile. Mrs Dawes
would not appreciate such levity … any more than Frank would have
done, come to think of it.
Mrs Dawes continued, ‘It must have happened outside the church on
the main road. That corner’s ever so dangerous. I’ve always said they’d
have a fatal accident there one day, and now it’s happened. Then the
driver panicked. He wouldn’t want to leave the body in plain sight, would
he? He must have spotted that the church was open because of the
central heating men … they’re always in and out, leaving the door open
and never mind the draughts and security … well, the driver must have
dragged Ferdy into the church and left him there, so as to give himself
time to get away. I don’t suppose they’ll ever find him; the driver, I mean.’ What you really mean, thought Ellie, is that Ferdy’s death is good
riddance to bad rubbish.
Ellie didn’t think Mrs Hanna would agree. She wanted to say, ‘Let’s
hope the sinner found peace by ending up in the church,’ but she felt that
would be considered frivolous. Certainly Frank would have said it was in
bad taste, and perhaps it was.
‘I must go,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘If you’ll let me know what you
need at the shops …? And take it easy, won’t you?’
‘Oh, I just can’t face going out. My legs start to shake as I get to the
front door. Tell me if you hear anything else at the shops, won’t you?’ Ellie thought that with any encouragement, Mrs Dawes would lapse
into a victim frame of mind and stay there. Ellie herself knew just how easy it was to fall into that trap. She had only just escaped from it herself … and could easily slip back into it again. Perhaps somebody tactful might be able to help Mrs Dawes, and prevent her sinking into premature
old age?
She opened her mouth, hesitated, closed it. It surely wasn’t up to her
to say anything. On the other hand, if she didn’t say anything, who would? Ellie said, ‘Now don’t you worry about the flowers for this Sunday. I’m
sure one of your team will be only too happy to take over. If they can’t do
it at such short notice, perhaps our organist can bodge something together …’
Mrs Dawes’ impressive bosom inflated. ‘Nora? She’s about as much
good at it as you are! Nora touches my flower arrangements over my
dead body!’
‘I’m sure she will do her best,’ said Ellie, craftily. ‘Though of course …’ ‘Her best is not good enough!’ said Mrs Dawes. She thought for a
moment and then reached for her coat. ‘I’ll just pop around to the church
now and see what’s happening. If the main altar is roped off, perhaps
we can hold the services in the Lady Chapel. I’d better see the vicar
about it. I left an armful of chrysanths in a bucket at the back of the church
… I wouldn’t put it past those policemen to knock them over and then
where will we be?’
Ellie did her shopping in the Avenue, which was buzzing with the news of the body found in the church. Did Ellie know anything about it? No? She hadn’t seen anything? Well, not surprising, really. She’d probably have had the curtains drawn, that time of day. Would it make the national newspapers, did she think? She’d expected to be asked how she was feeling after the funeral, but only a couple of people remembered to do that.
Ellie told her fellow workers in the charity shop that she hoped to be back with them the following week. She could see that they were ready to shove all their problems back on to her again. So and so had said this, to which She had taken exception, et cetera. Ellie told them she was sure they were managing beautifully. They agreed, looking doubtful. She hoped they would refrain from quarrelling outright till she got back.
Ellie had held down a good secretarial post until she was married and had Diana. After that she had worked as much as she could while suffering a shattering series of miscarriages. By the time they had given up any hope of another child, Frank had been doing so well that there had been no need for her second salary. Frank had urged her to take up charity work instead. Ellie hadn’t minded the loss of independence because she’d enjoyed being a home-maker. Only now there was no one at home to look after.
There was no reply when she returned to Mrs Dawes’, so Ellie assumed the dear lady had overcome her trembling legs enough to return to her usual routine.
Ellie put in an unpleasant afternoon’s work sorting out Frank’s clothing and ate an early supper in front of the television. Frank would never eat on a tray in front of the television. She felt guilty about letting her standards slip, but was too tired to care. She ducked ringing Aunt Drusilla. She would do that tomorrow.
She drew the long green and cream patterned curtains in the big room and then went into the kitchen to draw down the blinds there. With her hand on the blind over the back door, she stared out over the dark shadows in the garden and up to the church.
She hadn’t bothered to put on the kitchen light, but she could see well enough as there was a street light in the alley, used as a short cut night and day. And the church and grounds were lit by the lights of the main road beyond. Some people thought the church grounds looked creepy at night, but Ellie had always loved the view. Until now. Now it did look a little sinister.
What nonsense! That was all in her mind, remembering Ferdy’s death. Only … a woman was sitting on the bench by the side door to the church.
Ellie got her coat and went to join her. Mrs Hanna, the dead boy’s mother, was sitting as near as she could to the place in which her son had been found.
Ellie sat beside her, unable to find the right words. She found herself stumbling into silent prayer. Please, help her, help me … I don’t know what to say …
After a while she felt better. Quieter in her mind.
It began to rain. Not much. A drizzle.
From across the road, the fat man in the Saab watched the two women.
2
Mrs Hanna sighed and got to her feet. ‘Have to be up early.’ Ellie nodded. Of course, Mrs Hanna worked at the bakery. Mrs Hanna said, ‘Show you something.’ She opened a large leatherette
bag and took out a wallet. Inside the wallet was a photo of a beautiful dark-haired young boy. Ferdy, aged five or six. Mrs Hanna showed it to Ellie, without letting go of it.
Ellie said, ‘It’s so sad.’
The drizzle misted everything, their coats, their faces.
Mrs Hanna asked, ‘Why? That’s what I want to know.’
Ellie lifted her hands, helplessly. She didn’t know why.
‘You live in that house? I see you draw the curtains. You must of seen
something. You saw who killed my boy, no?’
‘No, I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything.’ Between her grief and the pills
she’d been taking, she wouldn’t have noticed if a flying saucer had
landed in the church grounds two nights ago.
Of course, Mrs Hanna didn’t know about Frank’s death, the funeral,
Ellie’s shock and grief. How should she? It was only natural she should
think Ellie had seen something.
Mrs Hanna pushed her face close to Ellie. ‘You did, didn’t you?’ Ellie shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t see anything.’
Yet something lurked at the back of her mind. A voice crying out, footsteps, someone rushing along the alley …?
No, that had been one of her nightmares, she was sure of it. Anyway,
the memory – if it was that – had gone now.
She said, ‘If I could help, I would.’
‘You think. Then you tell me, right?’
‘Right,’ said Ellie, not knowing what else to say.
Mrs Hanna became aware of the rain. She produced a plastic hood from her bag. Tying it around her head, she set off towards the Avenue. Ellie wished, fiercely, that she could have helped Mrs Hanna. As usual she felt totally inadequate.
The driver of the Saab had kept the engine running, so that he could use the windscreen wipers now and again. It was necessary to report on what the two women were doing. The boss would be interested to hear that they had met and talked. When Mrs Hanna left, the car followed her.
Returning home, Ellie fell over something wet on the back doorstep. It turned out to be a ragged bunch of chrysanthemums. Ellie glanced around, but there was no light on in the shed at the bottom of the garden and no sign of the boy.
Nine-year-old Tod lived three doors along the alleyway. His mother worked, his father wasn’t around and Tod was a solitary soul who preferred making himself a den in her garden shed to playing football or mucking around with computers as most of his friends did.
Ellie liked Tod, and Tod liked her. She supplied him with biscuits, squash and the occasional battery for his camping torch. In exchange he sometimes helped her with the weeding in the garden. Frank never lifted a finger in the garden.
Tod didn’t like his own garden, most of which was under concrete. Tod liked spiders, stray cats and swimming. Tod’s mother had probably told him ‘not to go bothering Ellie at the moment’, and he wouldn’t. Tod was a nice boy. But he’d obviously been thinking about her and had picked a bunch of chrysanthemums – from Ellie’s own garden by the look of it – to lay on her back doorstep.
A nice thought, even though it looked as if he’d broken off the stems by hand. What would Mrs Dawes say to that!
Ellie began to laugh. She laughed until she cried. She told herself that having hysterics was no way to get the flowers in water, and set herself to finding a suitable vase for them.
The Saab followed Mrs Hanna as she crossed the main road by the pedestrian crossing and turned into the Avenue. The driver pulled in to the side of the road and watched as Mrs Hanna found her key and opened the door leading to the flats above the shops. A light went on in the corridor. After an interval that light went out, and another went on in the top flat.
The fat man extracted himself from his car with some difficulty and walked across the road to check on the names beside each bell-push.
Ellie was dozing in front of the television when the doorbell rang. Some door-to-door salesman, probably. Archie Benjamin, churchwarden and something hot in the financial field; smallish, roundish, swarthy and six o’clock-shadowed. He had the good sense not to sit in Frank’s chair, but arranged himself on the settee.
Ellie turned off the television. As she went to sit down, he captured one of her hands in both of his, and patted it.
‘My d
ear Ellie, how are you?’
Despite her resolution not to cry in front of others, she felt a rush of tears coming. She managed to hold them off with a steady, ‘Quite well, thank you.’
She liked Archie Benjamin in a tepid sort of way. He’d been one of Frank’s best friends. The two men had always had their heads together on church affairs and together they’d backed the vicar in his crusade to rebuild the decrepit church hall.
Archie had a gold-glinting smile. ‘You must ring me night or day, if ever there is the slightest thing I can do. Promise?’
She nodded, withdrawing her hand from his and wishing she’d taken out her supper tray before he came.
‘Not too distressed with all the hoo-hah?’ He gestured in the direction of the church.
She shook her head. She didn’t like to think of poor Mrs Hanna. Or about Ferdy, who might have been a tearaway but who certainly hadn’t deserved to end up dead in front of the altar.
‘A terrible affair. Of course you’re upset. Coming so soon after … what a loss! Frank and I must have worked together for, oh, five years? Six?’
She nodded.
‘You must feel bereft. Heartbroken.’
He’s overdoing it, isn’t he? said a little voice at the back of Ellie’s head.
He laid his warm hand on top of hers. ‘I meant it when I said you must ring me, if there’s any little thing I can do for you …’
The little voice in Ellie’s head completed the sentence, ‘… in your time of trial.’ It was awful to feel so ungrateful for his kind wishes, but he made her want to laugh. She stuffed her handkerchief against her mouth and kept her eyes down on her lap. Hysteria, of course.
He thought she was stifling tears.
‘There, there!’ he said.
She blew her nose, put her hankie away and said, ‘I’m all right now, thank you.’
He cleared his throat. ‘We shan’t want to lose you, but I suppose you will be selling up, moving near your daughter in … where is it? … Birmingham? Leeds? Houses like this go for a bomb nowadays. Or do you want to sell up and buy a small flat somewhere nearby? I don’t want to see you cheated. I know a good estate agent, and could contact him for you if you like.’
‘I’m not sure what I want to do yet. My solicitor said not to do anything for a while. Diana does want me to move up there but I’ve lived here all my married life, my roots are here, I help out in the charity shop … oh, not since the funeral of course, but I do plan to go back soon.’
Murder at the Altar Page 2