My voice was a feeble astonished croak. “Tansy actually told Drew that his wife and her son were having an affair?”
Gwen nodded gravely. “You see, she was desperately worried about it. She’d already talked things over with me, and I’d told her to send Brian away from Mildenhall. I thought that would break it up—if they were separated. But Brian wouldn’t go. He had it so damned easy living here. He never had to bother about getting a proper job, but just made a bit on the side buying and selling second-hand cars – and other things for me.”
“And stealing,” I put in.
Gwen reddened. “Tansy doesn’t know about that. I’ve never told her.”
Uncharitably, I reflected it wasn’t sisterly love alone that restrained her tongue. Gwen would be in trouble if her dealings with Brian, and the fatal consequences, ever came out.
I wished I could break through the tangled mystery of Mildenhall. Nobody else could know of Gwen’s part in Brian’s death. Why then were they so extraordinarily touchy at the merest mention of the accident? If they thought it was a plain case of drowning, surely by now it would have fallen into place like any other tragic happening. Time might not heal everything, but it covers over an awful lot.
Here it was, two years later, and Brian’s death was still a fiercely taboo subject at Mildenhall. It just didn’t make sense.
Through the dustcloud of my mind I could see Gwen’s ungainly figure still perched on the edge of my bed. I saw her forming a question, nearly asking it, holding back; and then letting it come out in a little rush.
“Kim, how did you know about Corinne having an affair with Brian?”
I was almost grateful to her for pinning down my attention.
“Bill Wayne told me,” I explained. “Apparently he knew all about it at the time....”
The expression on Gwen’s face checked me. She looked scornful and somehow bitterly amused.
“Bill Wayne! He’s a fine one to talk!”
I should have realized what she meant, but stupidly I asked her to explain.
She eyed me slyly for a moment. If she was regretting what she’d implied, the pleasure of indiscretion soon won.
“What do you think I meant? Bill Wayne himself and Corinne—they had quite a thing before Brian took over.
Chapter Fourteen
Every scrap of my professional instinct was welded now into one solid hunch. I was certain that Jane’s stammer rooted from the unhealthy atmosphere at Mildenhall following Brian Hearne’s death.
She would be fully cured only if Mildenhall could become a normal home again, with normally reacting people in it. If Tansy could regain a balanced outlook, and Corinne show a spark of genuine interest in her child. Above all, perhaps, if Drew could emerge from his iceberg existence into the warmth of real fatherhood.
But it was one thing for me to understand the cause; quite another to tackle it.
Somehow I had to find a way of breaking through the soul-destroying pattern of life at Mildenhall. It needed something drastic to shake them all up and touch off a chain reaction of improvement.
Perhaps I had the very thing.
Brian’s jacket!
I tried to picture myself tossing it down challengingly, slap across the family conversation. Had I courage enough for that?
First, anyway, I’d have to convince Bill Wayne and get him to hand the jacket over. And I’d have to choose a time when Tansy wasn’t within earshot. It would be too cruel to involve Brian’s mother; even a strong-minded woman might be expected to take it badly.
The weekend dragged by, with me in a torture of indecision. I avoided both Gwen and Bill Wayne and concentrated on my work with Jane. But I had no heart for it now. I knew that any progress wouldn’t be lasting while Jane’s background remained unchanged.
By Sunday evening my mind was at last made up.
As we went upstairs to bed I followed Gwen to her room.
“Will you be going back to London in the morning?” I asked her.
“Yes, dear, of course. First thing.”
“Then I want to talk to you now, Gwen,”
“I thought you would,” she said in a dull, fatalistic voice. She’d been avoiding me, too. We hadn’t exchanged a private word since Friday evening. I think she was actually hoping I might let my inquiries drop, and smother all the disturbing facts that had come to light.
I told her of my plan, and she turned ashen. Her eyes stared huge and pale from behind the black-rimmed spectacles.
“But Kim, you can’t!”
“I’ve got to. Don’t you want to help Jane?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, then ...”
She looked ill with fear, and I tried my best to reassure her.
“I won’t drag your name in if I can possibly help it.”
But it was a long time before she finally agreed. “If you must, then I suppose you must,” she said unhappily. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I decided to tackle Bill Wayne at his cottage after he had finished work. I wasn’t looking forward to it one bit.
His greeting was far from friendly.
“Kim! What the devil do you think you’ve been up to? Do you realize I’ve tried to see you four or five times over the weekend? What’s all this nonsense of Pinky’s about you being ‘not available’?”
I flushed. “I’ve been busy with Jane.”
“But you knew perfectly well I’d want to talk to you,” he said angrily. “What’s been happening? What did you get out of Gwen?”
“She told me several interesting things,” I said in a level tone.
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that at one time you and Corinne...”
“Oh, so that’s it.” He shifted his feet and looked sullen.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Bill? You were ready enough to tell me about Corinne and Brian.”
Bill’s lips were set hard. Then his expression relaxed. He put his hands on my shoulders and spoke gently.
“I didn’t tell you, Kim, because I didn’t want you to know what a bloody fool I’d been. It’s hardly something I’m proud of.”
“But Drew’s wife,” I said reproachfully, moving away from him. “How could you, Bill?”
He gave a bitter, worldly smile. “With a sexy, predatory woman like Corinne it’s only too easy. And don’t imagine that I was really hurting Drew. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else—she made that very plain. But all the same, I felt rather shabby about it. I was the one to break it up, and that’s what Corinne can never forgive. That’s why she hates the sight of me now.”
I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand. I just had to accept it as one of those things that happen,
“Kim darling, it wasn’t important. It didn’t mean anything to me. Please don’t let it spoil things between us.”
I refused to acknowledge the implication of his words.
“Did Drew know about you and Corinne?” I asked faintly.
Bill looked embarrassed. “He’s never said anything, never so much as hinted, but I think he must have known. Just as he knew about Corinne and Brian.”
My heart was suddenly beating fast. “According to Gwen, it was Tansy who told Drew about that. Just the very day Brian was drowned.”
“No.” Bill shook his head emphatically. “I’m certain Drew knew about it long before then. It’s something he’s had to live with—I mean, the way Corinne sleeps around.”
“Poor Drew. I wonder why he puts up with it?”
“For the child’s sake, I imagine. I shouldn’t think anything else would keep him tied to that bitch.”
I had an odd feeling, almost of happiness. I suppose it must have flowed from a sense of relief. If Drew had long since lost his illusions, then it was of no relevance that Tansy had spoken to him, only a few hours before the accident, about Corrine’s behavior. That fact was just a coincidence.
Not, of course, that I had ever really imagined oth
erwise.
I began to explain my plan for confronting the family with Brian’s jacket.
“Will you let me have it, Bill? Please!”
He looked staggered. I guessed he was choking back something pretty violent, but he simply asked, “And what do you hope to achieve by that?”
“I don’t know, exactly,, But somehow I’ve got to give them an almighty jolt. It’s the only way I can think of to help Jane.”
Bill said nothing, eyeing me curiously,
“I’ve got to, Bill. Don’t you see?”
“Kim, are you sure that’s the reason? Just to help Jane?”
“Of course it is. Why else?”
“It could be that you want try to prove something to yourself.” He began to pace around nervously, shaking his head. “I don’t like it, Kim—I don’t like it one bit. They’ll want to know the lot, of course. They’ll ask how you got the jacket, and just where it’s been all this time.”
“I wasn’t going to tell them,” I protested. “They’re bound to recognize it as Brian’s. That should be enough for them.”
“You’d still have to explain how you came by it.”
At that moment it looked as if Bill was going to be adamant. But suddenly he gave way.
“Oh, all right then, take the damned thing if you must. I’ll be glad to get rid of it.”
It was seven o’clock in the evening when I walked alone from Bill’s cottage back to Mildenhall. A still, quiet, golden evening. But as I came to the big house, entombed in dark forest, my sense of foreboding grew. More than ever before, I felt reluctant to enter that gloomy cavern of a hall. I wanted to turn and run away.
There was nobody around and I got to my room unobserved. I hid the loathsome parcel, pushing it under the bed because I couldn’t bear it to be any closer to my own clothes.
In my mind I had fixed the showdown for immediately after dinner, as soon as Tansy had slipped away out of the room, as she always did. Somehow I’d have to keep Drew from disappearing too, until I could produce the jacket.
The meal was unbearable. The good food might have been tasteless straw for all the interest I could take in it. I pushed a tender escalope of veal around my plate, uncomfortably aware of Drew’s thoughtful gaze upon me.
Verity and Felix must have sensed my preoccupation. Seeing their chance, they made a two-pronged attack, but I just let their jibes bounce right off.
At last we finished with the fruit course. Tansy busily put the remaining dishes on the trolley and pattered off with it.
I stood up quickly before anyone else could make a move. Not looking at Drew, not looking at anybody really, I said in a compelling voice, “I’ve got something I want to show you. Could you please all wait here for a moment while I go and fetch it.”
I hurried out of the room to forestall any questions, and clattered up the stairs to my bedroom, I dragged the parcel from under the bed, and with bits of dried mud scattering through the loose wrapping paper, I raced back to the dining room. I could scarcely have been away for more than a minute. The four of them were still in their places, looking as if they’d not moved an inch while I was gone. As if they’d not uttered a word.
I tossed down my dirty bundle dramatically, slap on to the immaculate white damask tablecloth.
Corinne jumped up, backing away. She was furious.
“Really, Miss Bennett! Have you gone mad?”
I ignored her protests and kept my eyes on Drew. He was watching me in astonishment. I searched his face for a trace of fear behind the unvoiced questions.
Felix made a weak attempt at mirth. “Exhibit A for the prosecution!”
I leaned over and pulled aside the brown paper, exposing the filthy crumpled tweed.
“Do any of you recognize this?”
I glanced quickly around, testing for their reactions.
Corinne was still standing, still angry; and, I think, genuinely puzzled. Verity was no more than mildly surprised, and Felix looked rather stupidly at a loss.
Drew was on his feet, staring in horror. There was no doubt now of the fear in his eyes. I knew he recognized the thing I had thrown down,
But all the same, in a barely audible voice, he asked, “What is it? What’s that you’ve got there?”
I waited for several calculated seconds before announcing, loud and clear, “It’s Brian Hearne’s jacket. The one he was wearing when he was drowned.”
Silence! A waiting silence, heavy and filled with high-sprang tension. I knew my drastic plan was working—so far.
Corinne wasn’t puzzled any more. She was horrified, and plainly scared. She took a slow step nearer the table, peered at the jacket as if she couldn’t believe it was real, and then backed away in revulsion. I glanced quickly at Drew and saw that he too was watching his wife.
For once, Felix and Verity made no impact on me at all. It was just as if they weren’t in the room any more. The real drama lay between Drew and Corinne, while her brother and sister only touched at its edges,
At last Drew spoke again. It seemed he had to wrench his eyes away from Corinne as he turned to me and asked, “Where did it come from?”
I was prepared to dig my heels in hard. They were going to do the talking, not me.
But I felt nervous under Drew’s demanding glare. Almost like a small child in trouble. And like a child, I stared at the floor mutinously as I answered.
“It ... it doesn’t matter where I got it.”
“Of course it matters,” he protested. “How can we be sure it really is Brian’s?”
I discovered the courage to meet his eyes again.
“You know it is.”
When his gaze wavered and fell away from mine, I felt no sense of triumph. Seeing Drew beaten like this, I almost wanted to back down.
We had reached a curious deadlock. With every moment of continued silence, the tension mounted unbearably. Something surely had to give; somebody had to break.
The rap on the door was loud and sharp. But nobody else seemed to hear it. Drew and Corinne, not even looking at one another now, were still locked in some intangible battle; a fight that sprang from depth of mutual understanding.
Drew and Corinne. Corinne and Drew.
And I was shut out. I was just an onlooker.
The knock came again. When still nobody answered it, the door opened and Bill Wayne came walking in.
I exclaimed in surprise and thankfulness. “Bill, I didn’t expect ...”
“I reckoned you’d need some support,” he said gruffly. His first glance had taken in the jacket on the table. He looked quickly around at each of the others in the room, and then back to me again.
“Well? Where have you got to?”
“I’ve said nothing, Bill, Except that it’s Brian’s.”
He swung round. “I’m sorry, Drew, but there it is. We can’t dodge the issue any longer.”
The room seemed full of eyes. Eyes that challenged; eyes that concealed. Felix and Verity were watchful, waiting.
Corinne was wary now. She moved suddenly, pulling a chair well back from the able and sitting down. Perhaps she needed to.
Bill said loudly, “I was the one who found the jacket, you see.”
That snapped through Drew’s preoccupation with his wife.
“You found it?”
Bill nodded, just the smallest jerk of his head. “Yes, when the inquest was all over. The jacket was lying under a gorse bush near the rainbow pond.”
“But how...?”
“It had been in the water,” said Bill. “That much was obvious. It was muddy and still quite, wet, though we’d had no rain.”
“Oh, my God!” Corinne sprang up again. Her mouth was quivering as if she was going to say something more, but before she found the words she was interrupted.
It was Felix who cut in. Felix the suave, the callously ironic. Now he was fiercely indignant.
“‘And what do you think that proves?” he shouted at Bill. “You come here making crazy accusati
ons! There isn’t a shred of evidence.”
Verity reached out and pulled his arm. It was a quiet hint that he’d already said too much and mustn’t go further.
In a level tone Bill pointed out, “But I haven’t made any accusation, Felix.”
He looked at Drew apologetically. Corinne looked at Drew. I looked at Drew.
“We’re simply trying to establish the truth,” I said quickly. I wanted now above everything else to take some of the heat out of the situation. But I only made things worse.
Corinne exploded at me. “Who the hell do you think you are, Miss Bennett? My husband and I are employing you to treat our daughter, not to poke your inquisitive nose into things that are none of your business.”
The outburst seemed to do her good. She looked to her brother and sister for approval in something of her usual way. But she avoided catching Drew’s eye.
I wasn’t going to be scared by a few hard words from Corinne Barrington. I smacked right back at her.
“It would be more fitting, Mrs. Barrington, if you stopped this constant sniping at me and thought of your daughter. She badly needs help. You should keep that fact well in mind.”
Yet even as I said it, I knew I had made a mistake. Giving Corinne an excuse to shout at me was getting away from the point.
Bill Wayne said pacifically, “I’m afraid it’s all my fault, really. I happened to mention to Kim that I’d found the jacket, and she thought you ought to know about it.”
At last Drew came to life. He said quietly: “Thank you, Kim. I’m sure you meant well.” He hesitated, moistening his lips. “But I’d rather my Aunt Tansy didn’t get to hear about this. She’s in no fit state.”
“That’s why I waited until she had left the room,” I explained, anxious for him to know I’d not been entirely thoughtless.
“That was considerate of you.” He glanced away from me to Bill Wayne. “Well, now, I suppose the best thing is to get rid of the jacket. Destroy it.”
Faintly etched over his words was a large question mark. Have I your permission? Will you let me hush this thing up? Will you keep quiet too?
What really astonished me was that Drew hadn’t demanded more of an explanation. I’d have expected him to want more detail about just when and where and how the jacket had been found. And why it hadn’t been produced long ago. Two years ago.
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