Handsome Brute: The True Story of a Ladykiller

by O'Connor, Sean

  At about 4.55 p.m., they then went back to the Burley Court Hotel, so that Rylatt could change for the party in Wimborne and then took a taxi to ‘Moorings’, the country home of a Mrs Comyns who was entertaining about twenty people for cocktails and dinner. Again the topic of the hunt for the Notting Hill murderer was hotly discussed over the martinis and gin slings. Rylatt got on particularly well with a Major Holford of the 12th Hussars and his wife, so he and Brook arranged to meet the Holfords for dinner in Bournemouth later that week. They took a taxi back to the Tollard Royal at about a quarter to midnight – Rylatt kept the taxi waiting as he had a nightcap with Brook before he took the taxi on to his own hotel, running up a fare of £2.

  Earlier that day another new guest had arrived at the Tollard Royal. Peggy Waring was an attractive 37-year-old divorcée from London, a student of psychology and philosophy. She had come to the Tollard Royal to stay with a friend of hers, Anouska Symon. Peggy had only intended to stay for a couple of days but found herself staying much longer. That night, in the bar at the Tollard Royal Hotel, she met Group Captain Rupert Brook. He was to have a profound effect on her – and she on him.8

  He told me his name was Rupert Robert Cadogan Brook. I was introduced to Brook by some acquaintances of Mrs Symon, Wing Commander and Mrs Wilkes. Wing Commander Wilkes said he had known Brook in the RAF where Brook had been a group captain. Brook himself told me that he had been demobilized from the RAF and was then a test pilot at the Auster Aeroplane Company.9

  Both Peggy Waring and Peter Rylatt’s statements are crucial in attempting to gauge Brook’s state of mind during his stay in Bournemouth yet neither of their statements was discussed at the trial and neither of them was called as a witness. From their subsequent relationship, it is clear that Peggy Waring had a great influence over Brook, but in the extraordinary game of cat and mouse that developed between them in Bournemouth, what were his intentions towards her? Was he genuinely romantically fixated on her or was he grooming her for some darker purpose?

  The next morning, Peter Rylatt was playing tennis with Wing Commander Wilkes and saw Brook at about 12.30. Brook claimed he’d had a heavy night and stayed up drinking until 2.30 a.m. Rylatt went to the Highcliff Hotel to meet the girls from Wolverhampton they had danced with the day before, but Brook said he wasn’t keen to do so. Rylatt then lunched with him at the Tollard Royal. On each occasion they dined together at the hotel, Brook added it to his bill, telling the waiter, ‘Put it on my crime sheet, will you?’ Rylatt left him talking in the lounge with Wing Commander and Mrs Wilkes, Anouska Symon and Peggy Waring. From this point on, Peggy found Brook increasingly in her company, to an obsessive degree.

  [He] attached himself to me, so much so that we were together most of the time. He drank excessively. On the day after my arrival he asked me to marry him. I refused and he then asked me to have an affair with him. This I also flatly refused but each day he pressed me to allow him to come to my room or me to his room. This I would not allow but my sympathies were aroused for him, particularly when he told me his wife had left him for another man in South Africa. As a consequence of this I decided to stay on and try and help him, and this is the reason I altered my original plan. I talked to him of my religious beliefs and my belief in the goodness of people to such an extent that he ceased drinking to excess although he called me a ‘bloody fool’ and said I should think of myself more and not so much about other people. He still persisted in trying to have an affair with me and wanting to marry me.10

  That day another significant change took place; Brook changed rooms. According to hotel records, this move was in order to suit the management, as Room 71 had already been booked.11 Brook himself, despite later speculation to the contrary, did not make a request for this change in order to have a room with a gas fire, which might imply that at this point he was contemplating suicide. His new (and cheaper) room, number 81, was situated on the second floor to the west of the building and faced West Hill Road, looking out over the main entrance of the hotel and in the direction of the Bournemouth chines.

  Peggy Waring’s arrival had certainly altered Brook’s behaviour and was beginning to have an effect on his friendship with Peter Rylatt. Brook and Rylatt lunched together again on Thursday at the Tollard Royal and Brook complained that he’d had a champagne party the night before until 3 a.m. and was still feeling the worse for it. Rylatt had arranged to meet the Holfords that evening whom they had met in Wimborne. Perhaps in an attempt to clear Brook’s head, they walked along the promenade, past the private beach by Branksome Towers, with Branksome Dene Chine to their right – a stroll of about a mile. Rylatt was already feeling peeved with Brook as he had not offered to contribute anything towards the taxi fare from Wimborne. He had often seen Brook pay in cash for rounds of drinks and cigarettes and he invariably over-tipped the waiters, so money didn’t seem to be a problem.12 They walked on to the next chine, passed through the stone defence blocks in the car park and walked up the Chine Road, ending up on the main street at Sandbanks. They then returned to their respective hotels.

  Later that afternoon, Brook rang Rylatt and said he was feeling ill and asked if he could be excused that evening’s party. Rylatt told him that this would be extremely awkward and very embarrassing. Two young ladies had been invited specifically to entertain them. He insisted that Brook attend the party whether he felt sick or not. Brook refused. Exasperated and angry, Rylatt told Brook how difficult the evening would be without him. Brook didn’t appear to care.

  The next day, when they met outside the hotel, Peter Rylatt was still annoyed. The dinner party had been a failure, just as he had expected. Reluctantly, Rylatt had an awkward drink with Brook, Peggy Waring and Anouska Symon in the lounge, but refused the offer of lunch. At some point he commented that Brook’s escape map scarf looked rather dirty. Peggy agreed that it could do with a wash. Relations between them still frosty, Rylatt wished Brook goodbye as he would be returning to London the next morning on the 8.20 a.m. train. He left Brook alone with Peggy in the hotel lounge.

  With Peter Rylatt gone, over the next twenty-four hours, Brook’s relationship with Peggy developed an unsettling intensity, with Brook apparently struggling to control himself in Peggy’s presence.

  I should say he was abnormal, inasmuch that when he even kissed me quite normally, his passions seemed to be so roused that he was compelled to become rough with me and then to control himself, he would immediately leave me. On other occasions when he has held my hand, I could tell the effect it had on him, because he would thrust it away from him.

  Brook told Peggy that he was flying in the air display that Saturday and was eager for her to watch him, though she had already made it clear that she wanted to return to London. He was so keen, even desperate, for her to stay that he offered to pay her expenses at the hotel, but she refused. Though she had only intended to stay in Bournemouth for two days, she reluctantly promised that she would extend her stay, watch the air display and then go home immediately afterwards on the late train on Saturday night.

  At about 8.30 on Saturday morning, her last day in Bournemouth, Peggy was dressing in her room when Brook whistled up to her from the garden. She waved at him. He went and stood on the opposite side of the road and pointed to the writing room of the hotel, meaning he would wait for her there. She joined him about an hour later. For the next hour Brook phoned to the meteorological station at Shoreham to see if it was possible to take a light aircraft up that day. Finally he told Peggy that it was too windy to fly – a great disappointment as he had been talking about the air exhibition ever since he had arrived in Bournemouth.

  They were then joined by Lieutenant Colonel Tutt from Thurnham who was having a break in Bournemouth following the recent death of his mother.13 The three chatted in the writing room until 12.30 p.m. when Peggy excused herself. She wanted to go for a walk, but promised to come back in time for lunch with Brook. But his insistent, obsessive behaviour was troubling her. At about 1.10 p.m. she telephoned
him at the hotel and said that she wouldn’t be coming back to lunch after all. Brook fired questions down the phone, wanting to know where she was, why she’d gone out alone, and where she was going. Peggy was vague and said – quite honestly – that she just wanted to be on her own. In fact, her afternoon couldn’t have been more uneventful. She visited the Russell-Cotes Museum, just east of the pier, and took some notes about its celebrated collection of Victoriana. She returned to the hotel later that afternoon. Brook had apparently gone out with Colonel Tutt, so Peggy went up to her room. She was soon joined by Anouska Symon, who pleaded with her to change her mind about leaving Bournemouth that night as Brook seemed so distressed at the thought of her going. But Peggy had had enough of the constant strain of his intense and demanding behaviour. He was just too needy and jealous without reason. She broke down in tears.14

  A few moments later, Brook himself knocked on Peggy’s door and said he wanted to speak to her, so Mrs Symon left, leaving Peggy alone with Brook. He seemed very distressed and perspiration was pouring down his face. He asked Peggy where she’d been and said he couldn’t be doing with being given cryptic messages. Peggy said that she had been to the museum. He said he didn’t believe her. Exasperated, Peggy was in despair. Brook then begged her to stay on in Bournemouth. Once again she told him that she wouldn’t sleep with him and she wouldn’t marry him either, but she would like to be his friend. At this point she held out her hand to him and asked him to sit next to her. She wanted him to know that she cared about him. But this proximity to her just seemed to exacerbate his extraordinary behaviour. ‘He seemed terribly distressed at the thought of being so near me and he shook his head violently and his face was contorted, at what I took to be emotion,’ she later stated.

  Brook then left the room telling her that she should rest and that he’d wait for her downstairs. Again, Peggy burst into tears, full of pity for Brook, but also feeling pushed to breaking point herself.

  After about an hour, Peggy pulled herself together and went downstairs to join Brook and Colonel Tutt for tea. They then went for a walk, returning to the hotel in time for dinner. They sat in the lounge afterwards until Colonel Tutt left Brook and Peggy alone in the drawing room. This was the first time she had been alone with him since his extraordinary outburst that afternoon and Brook proceeded again to plead with her not to leave that night, doing so for another forty-five minutes. But by 11.00 p.m., Peggy was adamant. She was going for the 11.30 p.m. train as she had planned. Her luggage was packed and she was ready to go. Just as she was about to leave, he said to her: ‘You have won yourself a magnificent victory. I only hope you congratulate yourself on Monday.’15

  Leaving him behind, Peggy felt only ‘pity and tenderness’ for Brook. As a student of psychology, she cannot have hoped for a better subject to study at close quarters. The well-intentioned aim of her relationship with him had been simply ‘to try and help him to believe in people’.16

  After she returned to London, Peggy wrote Brook two letters, later to be found in his jacket pocket. He telephoned her at home in St John’s Wood on Sunday and Monday, saying that he would be coming to see her in London on Tuesday 2 July; he did not arrive. Her steadfast refusal to give in to Brook’s relentless demands may well have won her more than a ‘magnificent victory’ – it may even have saved her life.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Miss Marshall

  3–4 JULY 1946

  MURDER IN LONDON’S PARKS!

  After a spate of gloomily psychological murder dramas, it is a pleasant change to turn to Wanted for Murder, a new British thriller which has been built around a case of schizophrenia or dual personality, a straightforward thriller abounding in hearty chills and thrills. Eric Portman gets one of the juiciest roles in his career as a pleasant-mannered gentleman who quite frequently strangles unwitting young ladies. This, believe it or not, is due to a streak of sadism inherited from his grandfather, who was the finest public hangman of his day. His crimes take place in and around the familiar spots of London, the police eventually catching up with him in Hyde Park.

  Film section, Harrow Observer, 13 June 1946

  Twenty-one-year-old Doreen Marshall had served as a Wren during the war and was discharged from the service on Thursday 27 June. After a recent bout of measles and ’flu, her father suggested a holiday in Bournemouth; the sun and coastal breeze would do her good. The family had visited the town before, so it would be familiar to her. On Wednesday 26 June, Doreen and her father had bought two first-class return tickets from the Polytechnic Tours Office in Regent Street, each costing £1 13s. 2d.1 Doreen’s mother, Grace, wanted Doreen’s older sister to accompany her on the trip, but for some reason, at the last minute, Joan had decided not to go. But with an independent spirit and a WRNS training behind her, Doreen was happy to holiday alone. Doreen herself sent a letter to the Norfolk Hotel in Bournemouth, making a booking for ten days from the Friday of that week. She arranged to return home on 8 July.

  Just before leaving for Bournemouth, Doreen was at home spending the evening with her mother. The murder of Margery Gardner had been front-page news for days and the search for Neville Heath continued to dominate the papers. Mrs Marshall remembered:

  I was reading details of the Margery Gardner case in the Daily Mail and mentioned something about it to [Doreen]. Doreen was sitting opposite me and snatched the paper out of my hand saying, ‘Don’t read such things, Mummie.’ She scanned the headlines before putting the paper down but didn’t read Heath’s description or the text of the story.2

  This seemingly casual, apparently insignificant moment was to prove fatal. The newspapers, though permitted to publish a description of Heath, were forbidden to print any photographs of him. By the time the police had changed their minds and given a directive for photographs of Heath to be published, Doreen’s own young life would have been brought to an end in an orgy of horrific, terrifying violence.

  Like many men of his generation, Charles Marshall had seen the full horror of the Great War having fought in the front line at the Battle of the Somme – his feet giving him acute pain for much of his later life as a result of trench foot.3 A salesman by profession, he had married Grace Merritt in 1913 – both of them having been raised in Hackney. After the war, they had two daughters, Joan Grace, born in Harrow in 1921, and Doreen Margaret, who was born in Ealing in 1924. Mr Marshall had a close relationship with both of his daughters, but a particularly strong bond with his older daughter, Joan. Joan’s surviving daughter remembers Charles as a lovely, gentle man, in contrast to his wife who came across as rather stern, the inevitable impact perhaps of the loss of her daughter.

  Joan Marshall had married Charles Cruickshanks of the Royal Navy Reserve just after Christmas, 1941 and as he was on active service she lived with her family for the duration of the war. The Marshalls had moved into a semi-detached house in Kenton Road in the newly built suburb of Kenton in 1930. Kenton had been developed to take advantage of the tube expansion into Metroland with the intention of attracting middle-income commuters just like Charles Marshall, now the director of his own company. The Marshalls’ house, ‘Kenilworth’, was typical of the period; bay-fronted with an Ideal boiler for hot water, a Radiation gas cooker, three bedrooms, a bathroom and separate toilet. For thousands of families, houses like ‘Kenilworth’ were an achievable dream of modern comfort and convenience – all for an affordable £800.

  In early 1943, like thousands of other young women, Doreen had followed her older sister into the Women’s Royal Naval Service (‘Join the WRNS – and free a man for the fleet!’). Joan had worked at the admiralty decoding messages. Only seventeen, Doreen started two weeks’ intensive training at the WRNS training depot in Mill Hill. All ‘on shore’ naval bases or ‘stone frigates’ were named after Royal Navy vessels and though it may have sounded grand, intimidating even, ‘HMS Pembroke III’ was, in reality, a disused cancer hospital. As a probationer, Doreen had been put through both medical and written tests in order to establi
sh a suitable division for her experience and aptitude. In her first weeks, she was taught about the backbone of the service: discipline, routine and tradition. The Royal Navy was dominated by traditions and rules evolved over many centuries. These traditions, of course, had been evolved by and for the exclusively male intake who made up the ‘Senior Service’. Women had briefly been able to join the service in 1917 but this initiative had been disbanded two years later. A further attempt to create a Women’s Royal Naval Reserve had been mooted in the mid-1930s but after due consideration by the Special Sub-Committee of Imperial Defence, it was ‘deemed not desirable’.4 It had taken the darkening events in Europe in the late 1930s for the admiralty to accept that the need for a Women’s Naval Reserve was pressing. Effectively, Doreen had joined a new and innovative organization of women that would have an impact not just on each Wren individually, but on a generation of young women who felt that being part of the WRNS in some way emancipated them from pre-war strictures and conventions.

  The WRNS exposed young women like Doreen and Joan Marshall to a way of life a world away from their suburban backgrounds. They had to learn a completely different vocabulary relating their new, unfamiliar world to naval lore; a room was a ‘cabin’, the dining room was the ‘mess’ and the floor the ‘deck’. All work was divided into ‘watches’ with ‘divisions’ held in the Assembly Hall and Holy Communion in a small chapel every day.5 Crucially Wrens were forced to engage with other classes of women that they had never had the opportunity to meet before. For the first time in her sheltered middle-class upbringing, Doreen came face to face with women from a range of different backgrounds. For Doreen, her time in the WRNS was defining – the job, like the war, having spanned her adult life. She spent her career in the WRNS serving at various sites around the London area, mostly at accounting bases like HMS Pembroke III and HMS Westcliff. Much of her work was clerical, covering everything from submarines to post-hostilities planning and by 1946 she was working in Whitehall with senior figures in the admiralty at HMS President I.