The Circle of Sappho

by David Lassman

  With the key in her possession and therefore a more clandestine way back to the school, she could leave the boat; so giving the impression the couple had rowed themselves across, rather than coming via the underground passage.

  Returning to the present, Elsa now pushed the stone as hard as she could and finally felt it budge. She managed to get it far enough open to allow herself to step through and into the temple. She would now attempt to find out exactly what it was that she had left on the island. The temple was in semi-darkness as she entered. She saw the place where she had left the bodies; a tragic boating accident Miss Jennings had called it. She laughed. It did not matter, she had thought; if she could not be Miss Leigh’s ‘special girl’, she would assume the Circle’s leadership and choose her own.

  As she moved toward the entrance, a voice spoke from the shadows.

  ‘I am interested to know what you believe is here on the island which will incriminate you as a murderer.’

  Elsa immediately turned back toward the passageway but Swann blocked her way. She turned again and ran out of the temple. Swann pushed the stone to its closed position and then headed towards the entrance himself. The only way off the island was by boat, and as that was moored on the other side of the lake, the girl he now knew to be the murderer of at least three people was therefore trapped on the island.

  Swann had arrived at the school while the girls were inside the assembly hall, at prayers. He had found Miss Jennings in her office and informed her of the Circle of Sappho. They had then talked to Tom and Swann had told them exactly what to do. They had carried out his instructions to the letter, as Elsa was now on the island. Once the plans were set, Tom rowed Swann across to the island and then returned with the boat, leaving Swann there. He had tied the boat to its mooring on the school side again, so giving the impression the island was deserted.

  The diary entries had confirmed his increasing suspicion that there was another way onto the island, other than by water; that suspicion having been aroused after seeing the second inscription against the far wall of the temple, and witnessing the apparent ‘disappearance’ of a person he believed he had disturbed whilst trying to unearth the diary.

  On the way across the lake, Swann had finally discovered why Tom had been acting suspiciously. The gardener had been in love with Miss Leigh and although she was always friendly towards him, his love had been unrequited. After he had come across the dead bodies, and recovered from the shock, he had found the suicide note beside Miss Leigh. He could not believe what he read and in panic, had hurriedly put it in his pocket; he said he wanted to protect her reputation. Tom also confessed that he had seen the boat was missing during the morning – which Swann now assumed was actually taken by Elsa – and thought the teacher had taken it. Not wanting Miss Leigh to find herself in trouble, he had not mentioned it at the time to Miss Jennings, as he hoped it would be returned before the rest of the school returned from church. He had destroyed the letter, but remembered the essence of it, which he related to Swann as he rowed.

  Swann had been waiting for an hour on the island, but the wait had proved worthwhile.

  He now went through the temple entrance and out onto the island. It did not take long for him to find her. She had headed straight for the jetty, believing Swann had rowed the boat across in the time it had taken her to come the subterranean route. It was, of course, not there. She turned and saw Swann approaching down the path from the temple. She ran around the perimeter of the island trying to find a suitable place from which to dive into the water.

  ‘There is nowhere to go,’ shouted Swann. ‘You might as well give yourself up.’

  Undeterred, she continued looking until she found a little grassy outcrop, upon which she now climbed. By the time Swann caught up with her, she was in the process of discarding the dress she was wearing, realising the heavy material, once saturated, might drag her under the water. She now stood, naked, on the rock, her back to Swann.

  ‘Do not jump, it is dangerous!’ he shouted. ‘There are rocks under the surface.’

  His warning went unheeded and the next moment Swann saw the pale white body disappear over the edge. He ran forward to the outcrop and looked over. There floating in the water, face down, was the girl, a halo of blood starting to spread out beneath her. Swann assumed she had smashed her head against a submerged rock as she dived into the water. He broke off a branch from a nearby tree and tried to hook the body closer to the shore. As he touched her back with the branch, the body rolled over; as it turned face up Swann momentarily recoiled: along with two fully formed breasts, the body also displayed male genitalia. He had read about this kind of phenomenon – hermaphrodites they were called – but he had never seen one for himself. From what he could remember, the origin of the name had derived from the physical union between the Olympians Hermes and Aphrodite, and the name given to the resultant offspring: Hermaphroditos.

  This was, Swann assumed, the ‘condition’ Miss Leigh had not revealed to Grace regarding Elsa, and, as much as the teacher had felt threatened by her, she had also perhaps felt sorry for her, which was why she had not told anyone about it.

  Swann realised his efforts to retrieve the body would be unsuccessful and stood up to carry out the pre-arranged signal to Miss Jennings, the shooting of his pistol, which would bring Tom across to the island in the boat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  With the murders at the school resolved, Swann turned his attention to the next pressing matter; that of finding out the truth about his father. He believed he knew someone who might be able to help him. She lived about an hour’s ride away, so he hired a horse, waited for it to be saddled, and then rode off.

  Mrs Hunter had been the Gardiners live-in nanny for as long as Swann could remember. She would be old now, if still alive. Swann realised he had not kept in touch or seen her since she had retired and left the Gardiners’ employ. He assumed if she had died, he would have been informed, given he owned the property in which she lived.

  When Mr Gardiner had passed away and Swann inherited the majority of his adoptive father’s property, the solicitor acting on behalf of the estate informed Swann about the provision which had been made for Mrs Hunter. Mr Gardiner had purchased a cottage near his former employee’s birthplace, to be held in perpetuity – or at least for her lifetime – where she would live rent-free, along with a yearly allowance. When Swann had inherited the estate, including the cottage, he was asked by the solicitor if he wished for this provision to continue. Even though Mr Gardiner stipulated the arrangement was ‘in perpetuity’, the solicitor had said, somewhat conspiratorially, that if he wished to take back possession of the cottage there were ‘certain ways and means’ that could be instigated in order for this to be made possible. Swann immediately responded that the provision was to continue and no more had been said on the matter.

  Despite this, the fact he had never visited Mrs Hunter made him feel guilty. She had played an important part in not only Mary’s life but his own too as they were growing up, and he held affectionate memories of her kindness at the time of his father’s death and in the period following it. Before his father was murdered Mrs Hunter had worked closely with him, therefore if anyone knew what his father was really like it would, hopefully, be her.

  As Swann rode the horse through fields and over hedges, letting the animal have its head across the flat land, he determined that if he was going to die tomorrow, he would learn the truth about his father first.

  On reaching his journey’s end, Swann brought the horse to a halt, dismounted and tied the reins around a tree that stood outside the cottage. He had arrived at the village and asked the first person he had seen for directions. They pointed towards a small wood, beyond which the cottage stood. As he walked to the door of the cottage, he remembered Mrs Hunter’s warmth, the way she used to stroke his head when he could not sleep in the days, weeks and months after his father’s death. But now here he was, arriving unannounced to visit somebody he had no
t seen for many years. For all he knew she might not even remember him. He hesitated for a moment, then knocked. If there was something to find out about his father from Mrs Hunter, then he at least wanted the chance to learn it.

  The door was opened by a woman in her sixties. She was younger than Mrs Hunter would be and he wondered for a moment if he had come to the right cottage.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Hunter?’

  ‘Oh no, my dear, she is inside. Who shall I say is calling?’

  ‘Jack. Jack Swann. I was adopted by the Gardiners, who Mrs Hunter worked for before she retired.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  The woman left the door ajar and went back inside. At least Mrs Hunter was still alive, Swann thought to himself.

  The woman returned.

  ‘Come on through,’ she said. ‘She has been expecting you.’

  Swann paused momentarily. Expecting him? How could that be? He ducked his head under the front entrance and went inside the cottage. It was not too different to the one in which Mrs Leach lived, in Frome. In the corner, sitting in an armchair, was an elderly woman, but she was far too thin and frail-looking to be the robust, heavy-set Mrs Hunter he remembered.

  ‘Jack, is that really you?’ asked the old woman in a soft voice.

  ‘You will have to go to her, my dear,’ said the woman who had answered the door. ‘She cannot hear very well and is almost blind.’

  Swann went forward and knelt down in front of her. He touched her hand with his own.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Hunter. Please forgive me for arriving unannounced.’

  ‘You do not need to apologise, Jack,’ she replied. ‘It is so wonderful you are here.’

  She put her free hand against his face and stroked his cheek.

  As she did this, he sat and looked at this woman who had given him so much comfort and kindness when he had been growing up. He remembered her as a strong, capable woman, who would stand no nonsense but could always be charmed with a smile. But here she was now, her face drawn, her body shrivelled and the skin on her hand, which now stroked his cheek, was stretched almost translucent over a myriad of blue veins.

  Now he was here, he did not know how to ask the question he had ridden all this way for. Although almost blind and deaf, she sensed there was something on his mind and she knew what it was.

  ‘Your father was a good man,’ she said.

  ‘How do you know I am here about my father?’ Swann enquired.

  ‘Most of the time I hear snippets of information and once I put them all together I add my own dollop of wisdom and usually find the truth somewhere within that,’ she said profoundly. ‘I know you seek the people who killed your father.’

  ‘But how; I have not seen you in many years.’

  ‘I always knew what you were up to. I remember you would find your way to the servants’ quarters,’ she said, ‘I would always find you there. From what Mary tells me, you have not changed. I …’

  ‘You have seen Mary?’

  ‘She comes to visit me once a week. How wonderful she has at last found someone and they are to be married. It was Mary who arranged for Mrs Bailey to live here and look after me.’

  At this, Mrs Bailey stepped forward and offered Swann a drink. He thanked her but declined. Mrs Hunter asked for her usual. Mrs Bailey smiled fondly as she turned and went into another room.

  ‘She used to come in to see me every day, then go home at night. When her husband died three years ago she moved in here permanently. It is much better, I think, and she looks after me well. Oh Jack, it is so nice to see you. I have thought of you often.’

  She leant forward a little. ‘After your father died,’ she said, ‘I told you that you could cry if you wanted to, but you never did. I am truly sorry about what happened to your father, Jack. I still blame myself for it after all these years.’

  ‘Why do you blame yourself, Mrs Hunter? It was not your fault.’

  ‘Your father should not have been in the house that night. If only my sister had not been ill, God rest her soul.’

  Mrs Bailey returned with a tray which she laid on a table. She took the glass off it and placed it in one of Mrs Hunter’s hands, guiding the fingers around it.

  ‘A little drop of port never did no one no harm,’ said Mrs Hunter, swallowing a mouthful of the dark liquid.

  ‘I’ll be in the back garden if you require anything, Mrs Hunter,’ said Mrs Bailey as she left the room.

  Alone once more, Swann took Mrs Hunter’s hands and looked into her face.

  ‘I need to know the truth about my father, Mrs Hunter.’

  ‘You will have to speak a little louder Jack, I’m still as deaf as I was, but as I am almost blind I can no longer lip-read.’

  ‘I said, I have to know the truth about my father,’ Swann repeated loudly. ‘Was he a gambler, did he have a sickness?’

  ‘Do not think badly of your father, Jack. He was a good man with a kind heart. But yes, he did gamble, although I saw it as a weakness, not a sickness. He did not know when to stop, he always believed his luck was about to change and that he would win enough money to give the start in life he wanted for you. He only wanted what was best for you, Jack. He told me that himself. He didn’t want you to go into service, like he had. If you want my opinion though, I don’t think your father ever recovered from losing your mother. It was very hard for him bringing you up on his own, and I think he gambled to take away the pain.’

  ‘Where did my father go to gamble?’

  ‘I do not know exactly where your father went,’ said Mrs Hunter, ‘only that he would always return late, having lost all his money. Your father would always make sure you were asleep, once he had read to you, before he left. I would then hear him come back, several hours later. I would make him a drink and he would tell me his plans, for when he won a lot of money. He wanted to make a better life for himself, for both of you. He wanted you to become a gentleman. He said he knew he could not afford to do that on his wages – even though he considered himself well-treated by the Gardiners – so that’s why he gambled. I am sorry you know the truth, Jack, but perhaps after all this time it is for the best. It does not take away what your father felt for you. He always made sure you were provided for first.’

  ‘What about the night he was killed? Do you remember anything?’

  ‘As you know, I had to look after my sister and so your father did not go out. I stayed the night with her, and when I came back the following day I heard what had happened. That’s all I know.’

  Swann’s many years as an investigator meant he knew immediately that Mrs Hunter was lying.

  ‘Mrs Hunter, please, I need to know the truth.You will probably not tell me anything I have not heard myself, it is just that I do not know whether to believe it or not.’

  ‘Then believe it is not true.’

  ‘What do you know? Mrs Hunter, please, I need to know.’

  Mrs Hunter sighed and held one of Swann’s hands again.

  ‘One of the servants that worked for the family, he wasn’t there long, he had certain relations that were a little bit on the … well, you know what I mean. He told me a story not long after your father was killed. I told him I did not believe him, but he said it was true. Your father used to gamble at the same club all the time – as I said, I do not know what it was called. What I do know is that it was run by some nasty types. Your father became heavily in debt to them, through his gambling, and they gave him a chance to pay them off. He told them Tuesday evenings were the staff’s night off and the Gardiners always went out until late. The only ones in the house would be us and we would not cause them any trouble; you would be asleep and I would most likely not have heard them. What happened that night was never planned though, I am certain of that. It was just tragic your father did not go out that night.’

  ‘If he knew they were going to break into the house, why did he try and stop them?’

  ‘I do not know. Perhaps a change of heart
, perhaps protecting you.’

  There was a silence between them, both lost in thoughts of the past and comforted by the other’s presence, once more, after all these years.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Swann was already inside the Fountain Inn when George and Bridges entered. He had arrived shortly before seven and ensconced himself in one of the alcoves. He had been in various drinking houses in the Avon Street district for the last hour or so, in disguise, listening out for any news or information regarding the Scarred Man’s whereabouts, but had come to the Fountain without hearing any mention of him. It was the same response when he asked the two thief-takers.

  ‘If this man you want is in the area, Mr Swann,’ said George, ‘no one is talking about him, at least not when we were about.’

  Swann accepted this with quiet sanguinity. ‘The evening is yet early,’ he said, ‘and so we may still hear something. The information I received did report he was due here sometime tonight.’

  Bridges tugged George’s arm. George nodded.

  ‘Mr Swann, Bridges would like to say he appree … appreesh …’

  ‘Appreciates?’ injected Swann.

  ‘Yes, sir. Bridges appreeshates what you have done for Rosie. It was a good thing you did for her, Mr Swann.’

  ‘I was only too happy to assist, George, although I believe it will turn out to be mutually beneficial.’

  ‘Mute what sir?’

  ‘Mutually beneficial, George; it means that finding a room for Rosie might help me as much as it helps her.’

  ‘What do you mean, sir?’ For a moment George looked a little suspicious of Swann’s motives.