A Case of Grave Danger

by Sophie Cleverly

  ‘Did anyone come in?’ I asked, my voice low.

  ‘Um, yes,’ he said, letting go of Bones, who circled the desk to greet us, wobbling with either nerves or excitement. ‘A lady. But she went away again.’

  Mother just put her hand over her forehead and sighed, but I was immediately concerned.

  ‘A lady? What did she look like?’ I asked.

  Thomas frowned. ‘I don’t know. She had lace over her eyes.’

  Oh no. ‘Did she say anything?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. But the dog didn’t like her. He was growling.’

  Horrified, I grabbed Oliver’s arm.

  ‘That doesn’t mean much,’ he whispered as Mother gently chastised my brother for not doing as he was told. ‘Almost every lady who comes in here wears a veil.’

  ‘And doesn’t speak?’ I hissed back. ‘Bones growled, he must have recognised her!’

  Oliver shook his head, unconvinced. But I knew it was her. What could her motivation be? Was she stealing something? Covering her tracks? I almost felt as though she were taunting us. I shuddered at the thought that she had come in with Thomas here alone.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Thomas asked. ‘Where’s Father?’

  I winced. Bones was staring at the door, sniffing and sweeping his tail as if he was waiting for Father to walk through it at any moment. I knew that he wouldn’t, that perhaps he never would again.

  Mother breathed in, deeply, for too long. She went over and put her hands on Thomas’s shoulders, and then she finally spoke. ‘Your father has just had to go away for a little while, Thomas. But don’t worry, my dear, he’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ Thomas asked. His eyes were wide, and I could see tears in them.

  Mother looked over at me, and I felt another horrible wave of helplessness. I didn’t know what to say, either.

  She cleared her throat. ‘He’s had to go down to the police station,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s to do with work. He’ll be back soon.’ She glanced at me again, a wordless plea not to tell him the truth.

  Thomas jumped up, sending the chair clattering backwards. ‘You’re lying!’ he shouted.

  ‘Thomas …’ Mother started, looking too desperate to even be angry.

  Thomas wasn’t listening. He ran out towards the back of the house, Bones galloping in pursuit. He knew when someone needed comforting – and of course he liked a good chase.

  Mother stood up again slowly, and I could see she was shaking.

  ‘Leave him,’ I said, going over to her. ‘He’ll be all right. You need to sit down.’ She didn’t resist as I helped her into the chair.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Oliver said. ‘I know this ain’t the time, but … what about the business?’

  ‘I can help run everything,’ I said. ‘I know everything that needs to be done. I—’

  ‘Violet,’ Mother said wearily. ‘You know the answer. Young girls are not undertakers.’

  ‘But—’ I protested.

  She reached for a glass of water on the desk and took a sip, the glass shuddering in her hand. ‘Not today,’ she said. ‘Do not argue with me today, Violet.’

  ‘She has a point, miss,’ Oliver said.

  I turned to him, my hands on my hips and a frown of silent indignation. Oliver thought I wasn’t up to the job as well?

  He read my expression quickly and fumbled for a better answer. ‘You’ve got the book knowledge well enough, but there’s more to it than that. It’s hard work. Sad work.’ He broke off, swallowed, then tried again. ‘I don’t know how your pa does it all. I don’t think I can do it. Not yet. Not alone.’

  Mother bit her lip, and I could see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

  For a moment, I said nothing. I couldn’t meet Oliver’s gaze.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said eventually. ‘We can’t do it without him. We’ll have to close.’

  Oliver fiddled with the buttons on his jacket nervously. ‘The men can probably do the rest of the funerals for this week. But after that …’

  I slammed my hand down on the desk, making both of them jump. ‘There won’t be an “after that”! We’re not leaving him in there! I’m going to get him out, whatever it takes.’

  ‘Violet, remember what your father told you,’ Mother cautioned.

  ‘I’m not likely to ever forget it,’ I shot back.

  She raised a finger at me, but we were interrupted by the front door of the shop opening.

  ‘Hello, everyone!’ came the cheery voice, and the wet thwoomp of an umbrella being shaken out.

  I spun round. ‘Maddy!’ I cried with relief.

  It was our maidservant, back from her trip to Yorkshire. I ran over and threw my arms round her.

  ‘Oof! Goodness,’ she said, a warm smile on her freckled face. ‘I think you’ve grown again, Miss Violet.’

  I let go of her, and her eyes widened as she saw Oliver. ‘Hello,’ she said again. ‘Who’s this?’ Then she must have noticed Mother sitting solemnly at the desk, because she asked: ‘Is something wrong? What’s going on? Where’s Mr Veil?’

  The stream of questions made Mother start sobbing again.

  ‘Maddy,’ I said, gripping the sleeve of her coat. ‘Something’s happened while you were gone.’ I caught Oliver’s eye, and took a deep breath. ‘Well, a lot, in fact. You might want to sit down …’

  By the time I’d recounted the whole story, Maddy was sniffling and wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ she kept saying. ‘Not Mr Veil. How will we manage without him?’

  Maddy was eighteen and pretty in a way that she never noticed and men always did. She had a friendly, open face framed with wild curls that she tried in vain to tame. It was awful to see her friendly face on the verge of tears like this. ‘I’m sorry, Maddy,’ I said. ‘You’ve only just come home. And there’s nothing we can do.’

  She sniffed and stood up. ‘Don’t you go apologising, Miss Violet. It’ll do no good.’

  ‘You can call me Violet,’ I said, as I always did, but Maddy paid it about as much attention as did Oliver.

  ‘You’re quite a miracle, aren’t you, boy?’ she said to him. He just blushed and looked away.

  ‘Right.’ Maddy straightened her skirts and turned to my mother. ‘There must be a lot to be done. Just let me know, ma’am, and I’ll get started.’

  Mother took a deep breath, and then she climbed to her feet too. ‘Come along to the kitchen,’ she said.

  As Mother drifted away, Maddy looked back at me and placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘You know in your heart that he’s done no wrong, don’t you, miss?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  ‘Then there is something you can do,’ she said quietly. ‘Come and speak to me tomorrow once I’ve helped your mother. I’ll tell you what I know.’

  he next morning was a sombre one. Even Bones seemed out of sorts. I let him out of the back gate, only to have him solemnly stare back at me from the graves instead of going for his usual bounding run.

  The front door of the shop had remained locked, the desk unoccupied. Mother had hung a sign on the door that read –

  CLOSED DUE TO UNFORESEEN CIRCUMSTANCES. PLEASE RETURN AT A LATER DATE.

  It wasn’t going to be good for business, that was for sure: the dead don’t wait around for an undertaker. Everything must be sorted as quickly as possible. That meant that all our potential customers would be heading straight for our rivals, Flourish and Co.

  But however bad for business it was to be closed, I felt sure that the rumours would be worse. I’d peered out of the front window to see a gaggle of girls around my age pointing at the shop, whispering and looking horrified. I couldn’t hear their words, but the gossip from the funeral filled the space well enough. I knew what they thought of my father.

  I turned to find Oliver sitting in the back garden in the weak sunlight, whittling a piece of wood with a small knife. ‘Good morning,’ I said, not even convincing myself. ‘Haven
’t you got anything to do?’

  Oliver scrambled to his feet. ‘Not at the moment, miss. There’s a funeral for tomorrow, and several for the rest of the week, but then all the …’ he cleared his throat … ‘coffins we have will be … used.’

  ‘The people buried, you mean?’ I said.

  He winced a bit, and sat back down again. ‘Yes. Sorry. The work is good and honest but …’ He took a deep breath, as if he wasn’t sure whether to continue. ‘But I can’t stop thinking that it could have been me, miss. It chills me to the bone.’

  Bones came trotting back in, probably thinking his name had been mentioned. He sat at Oliver’s feet and put his head in his lap.

  I patted Oliver gently on the shoulder, once I was certain that Mother wasn’t there to see. ‘That’s another reason why we need to get to the bottom of this. We need a plan, Oliver.’

  I was expecting him to argue, so I was a little surprised when he nodded in agreement as he absent-mindedly tickled Bones behind the ears. ‘You’re right. What are you thinking of?’

  I rubbed my hands together for warmth. ‘Maddy said we could talk to her. Father may not tell us anything, but I think she will. She’s worked here for a few years – she knows him well.’

  Oliver agreed. ‘We’ve got nothing to lose there. So long as your ma don’t find out, course.’

  ‘Hmmph!’ I snorted. ‘It’s not exactly dangerous investigating, is it? It’s just talking to Maddy. I don’t see how she can tell me off for that.’

  We found Maddy in the corridor upstairs, frantically dusting. She looked hot and flustered. ‘I don’t know where all this came from!’ she was muttering. ‘I wasn’t gone for long!’

  I sidled up to her, Bones squeezing along beside me. ‘Maddy, you said we could talk to you?’

  She brushed a lock of hair from her face and glanced quickly down the corridor, then she tilted her head towards the stairs to the attic. ‘Come on then – five minutes. Up there.’

  We hurried after her as she dashed to her bedroom (Bones was always happiest when people were moving quickly). Oliver hesitated on the threshold, but I dragged him inside.

  Maddy’s bedroom was plain but homely. She had a quilt that had been sewn by her mother spread across her bed, and some needlepoint pictures that I’d made for her hanging on the walls. There was a rather wilted flower in a jug by her bed, probably from one of her many admirers. Bones tried to jump up on to the bed and she quickly shooed him off and sat down herself.

  Oliver took out his notebook and pencil, but I tapped them meaningfully with a finger.

  ‘Remind me to teach you to write,’ I said. ‘Or those won’t be any use.’ I turned back to Maddy as his cheeks reddened. ‘What did you want to tell us? Can you help me prove Father innocent?’

  She folded her arms and bit her lip. ‘All right …’ she began. ‘I know you’ll have been told not to get into this, but I also know you, Miss Violet, and that you’ll stop at nothing. So if there’s anything you can do with the things I’ve heard …’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps it’ll help you.’

  ‘Please,’ I said urgently, ‘if you know something about who might be responsible for this … Anyone who might have a grudge against him for any reason?’

  ‘I might,’ she said, still looking uncertain that she should even be telling us about this. ‘Do you remember Mrs Brean?’

  ‘Oh, of course!’ I said. Mrs Brean had been our cook for years, before Father had to let some of the servants go. I’d really liked her. She was tall and skinny, which seemed unusual for a cook, but she always had a jolly outlook on life. Plus her cooking was wonderful. Mother – bless her – was not so used to the task.

  Maddy pulled on a lock of her hair, her eyes seemingly focused on the past as she tried to recall it. Bones stared up at her, unblinking.

  ‘When I first came to work here, she told me about something that had happened with one of the other staff.’ She paused, fidgeting uncomfortably. ‘Maybe she was gossiping, or it was a warning to me – I wasn’t sure. But she said things started to go missing. That someone was stealing.’

  ‘She didn’t say who it was?’ Oliver asked, leaning forward eagerly with his notebook. Maddy shook her head.

  ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘What sort of things went missing?’

  ‘Leftovers and food at first, but then some household things. A few valuables and clothes, even. Mrs Brean said it was right strange. Nobody ever saw anything being taken. But then Mr Veil must have found out who it was, because a woman was sacked.’ She winced. ‘The others had to be let go, difficult times and all that, and of course that was awful, but it was all on good terms. Whoever she was, Mrs Brean thought she got sacked for certain. Very messy apparently.’ She got up. ‘I’ll say no more. I must get back to the dusting.’

  Sacked? I thought. Being sacked was much worse than being let go. It meant that the servant couldn’t get another job. I didn’t remember anyone being sacked – but then perhaps it was at the same time as the others were let go. In which case it could be any of them.

  I didn’t remember hearing about any thefts, either. Had it been kept from us? ‘Does Mother know about this?’ I asked, before Maddy could run back to her dusting.

  Maddy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. Mrs Brean said it was very hush-hush. I think she overheard Mr Veil dismissing the lady.’

  Oliver looked at me. ‘Well, if your pa was the one who sacked her … it would give her the perfect motive to falsely accuse him,’ he said.

  he very idea that one of our former servants might have falsely accused Father was so disturbing, I found it hard to think about.

  Our servants had always felt like a part of our household, of our family, even those who may have sometimes been cold or harsh when I’d got under their feet a few too many times. These were people we had shared our home with. If it was true, that one of them had been stealing from us and was now targeting Father … how could they betray us in this way?

  I racked my brains as I tried to think back through all the women who had worked for us – which wasn’t so many compared to the older, richer families further along the street like the Winstons and the Braithwaites. There were the maidservants, the governesses, the cook …

  I remembered our Nanny Mishka, who looked after us until Thomas was about five. She always wore brightly coloured plaster jewels over her black dresses and told us fascinating stories about animals and mystical markets where you could buy anything from singing butterflies to potions that made your hair curl. I was sure I could rule her out – she had a sweet and pleasant nature, and the last I’d heard she’d boarded a ship to the Americas. And if our sacked servant was indeed the same person as the Black Widow, Nanny Mishka looked nothing like her.

  Mrs Keaton, the housekeeper, was just as keenly engraved on my memory. She was always a sunny presence, which wasn’t easy in a family so deeply surrounded by death. The business never bothered her – she acted as if all we did was sell pretty flowers for a living. I was devastated when she left, and would have been surprised to hear if she’d harmed a fly.

  As for the others … I was losing track of their names. Some of them I thought must be too young. Maddy had said a woman, not a girl.

  I felt sure, though, that we had records of who had worked for us. They would be amongst Father’s files in his office at the back of the shop, surely?

  I told Oliver about it that afternoon, once he’d finished helping out Father’s men for the day.

  ‘Good idea, miss,’ he said. ‘Can’t hurt to look.’

  Oliver helped me search, although I knew that he couldn’t read any of Father’s cursive writing. Nevertheless, I was glad not to be alone. It didn’t take long for me to find the ledger where Father had recorded all those we’d employed. I heaved it on to the desk with a thud, and a small cloud of dust came out.

  As I flipped through, I saw that it had all sorts of detail about the household accounts and who was paid what. Father, who was always organised, h
ad kept a list of the servants’ names in the back.

  I ran my finger down the names. ‘Too young. Too young. Too old …’

  Oliver hovered nearby nervously, and Bones was doing the same, his tail flicking as his eyes darted back and forth between the both of us. ‘Are we looking for the Black Widow?’

  ‘I think so,’ I said. ‘It’s all we have to go on. If she dropped those mysterious notes …’

  Those had been playing on my mind. Especially the fact that she seemed to be spreading rumours. She could well have been accusing Father.

  He wrung his hands. ‘What if it’s not her? Or what if she has an accomplice?’

  I shot him a look. ‘That might be, but you’re just complicating matters.’ Truth be told, the notion that we were on completely the wrong track had occurred to me, and it was terrifying. We were Father’s only hope. The detective inspector didn’t look like he was interested in running after other leads when he had a perfectly good scapegoat locked up in a cell. ‘It has to be her.’ I paused. ‘Though I have to admit, I don’t remember any of our servants having a scarred face.’

  ‘Scars can happen any time,’ Oliver said, rubbing his head. I caught a glimpse of the red welt under his hair. Bones nuzzled his leg sympathetically. ‘And it don’t mean a person is bad.’

  Seeing Oliver’s point, I nodded and carried on looking through the list. ‘Hmm,’ I said aloud. ‘Mrs Jane Barker, our governess. She was about the right age, and she looked fairly similar to what I’ve glimpsed of the Black Widow …’

  ‘She ever act strange?’ he asked.

  I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure. Mrs Barker was pretty strange, from what I remembered. She had a glass eye, and when she sang she sounded a bit like a howling dog. If Bones had been there, he would probably have tried to join in. ‘Well, she wasn’t boring, that was for sure.’ Another detail came to mind. ‘Ah, but then she walked with a crutch.’

  Oliver frowned. ‘It can’t be her then. The Black Widow seems to hurry along with no trouble.’

  ‘Exactly.’ I slipped my finger down to the next name in the list, and that was where I stopped. ‘Oh …’