“Did you have to …’’ she began.
“Buy the flowers? No, I grew most of them. I’ve always been fond of roses and this year I took up lilies.’’ He stroked a blossom. “It was almost as if I knew what I might need them for. But it was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill her … These are Lilium Candidum, Madonna Lilies. Lovely, aren’t they?’’
“I suppose we’d have got on to you sooner if you’d gone round buying all these white flowers,’’ said Charmian mechanically. She was trying to assess the situation. Was he mad or not?
He looked at her, smiled and shook his head. “ No, not mad. As I stand here I’m quite sane. I’m unhappy … I’m very unhappy, but I’m all there. Even when I killed her I was sane. Very angry, atrociously angry, but sane. We always quarrelled, ask anyone, Leonora would have tried a saint. And she was drunk. Ask her brother about how she drank. I had to stop her, but this time I went too far.’’
“And the girl?’’
“She saw me and started to scream. That’s when I quietened her.’’
The body, although no thing of beauty, was at least dead on its own bed and covered with flowers.
“You didn’t treasure the girl’s body,’’ said Charmian. “You put that out.’’
He covered his face. “I’m ashamed of that. Perhaps I meant to get rid of Leonora too. I think I did. But I couldn’t do it. Don’t ask me.’’
“I’m not asking.’’
“I’ve got plenty of money. I could buy myself out of this. But I don’t want to.’’ He took his hands down and stared at her.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing. I think you may be telling me lots of lies. You’re the sort that lies even to himself.’’ He winced. “I think you want to get away with it if you can. That was certainly in your mind. Else why did you cut off her head?’’
He looked at her painfully, as if a life-long image of himself had been shattered.
She pushed past him and went downstairs to the telephone.
Charmian sat at home.
One case was almost over. But she knew she hadn’t come to the end of it all with Tony Foss. There was certainly a lot more to bring out.
“This summer doesn’t get into a rut,’’ she thought. “ I was right. It’s been a different kind of summer.’’
The telephone began to ring.
And this time she got through to her husband straight away.
“My dear,’’ she said loudly. A great wave of love rose up all around her, but she was borne up and supported by it, not drowning. She felt tremendously alive and happy. “ My dear,’’ she said again.
Her left hand went out and reaching in the drawer to the box that contained her wedding ring, she managed to slide it on to her finger.
Copyright
First published 1967 by Hodder & Stoughton
This edition published 2015 by Bello
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Copyright © Jennie Melville, 1967
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A Different Kind of Summer Page 15