by Mark Place
"Is it - is it Lady Ravenscroft, you mean?"
"No, of course I don't. Ah, you don't remember as well as I do. It was the sister."
"Her sister?"
"I'm not sure now whether it was her sister or his sister. They said she'd been in a kind of mental place for a long time, you know. Ever since she was about eleven or twelve years old. They kept her there and then they said she was all right again and she came out. And she married someone in the Army. And then there was trouble. And the next thing they heard, I believe, was that she'd been put back again in one of them loony-bin places. They treat you very well, you know. They have a suite, nice rooms and all that. And they used to go and see her, I believe. I mean the General did or his wife. The children were brought up by someone else, I think, because they were afraid-like. However, they said she was all right in the end. So she came back to live with her husband, and then he died or something. Blood pressure I think it was, or heart. Anyway, she was very upset and she came out to stay with her brother or her sister - whichever it was - she seemed quite happy there and everything, and ever so fond of children, she was. It wasn't the little boy, I think. He was at school. It was the little girl, and another little girl who'd come to play with her that afternoon. Ah, well, I can't remember the details now. It's so long ago. There was a lot of talk about it. There was some as said, you know, as it wasn't her at all. They thought it was the ayah that had done it, but the ayah loved them and she was very, very upset. She wanted to take them away from the house. She said they weren't safe there, and all sorts of things like that. But of course the others didn't believe in it and then this came about and I gather they think it must have been whatever her name was - I can't remember it now. Anyway, there it was."
"And what happened to this sister, either of General or Lady Ravenscroft?"
"Well, I think, you know, as she was taken away by a doctor and put in some place and went back to England, I believe, in the end. I dunno if she went to the same place as before, but she was well looked after somewhere. There was plenty of money, I think, you know. Plenty of money in the husband's family. Maybe she got all right again. But, well, I haven't thought of it for years. Not till you came here asking me stories about General and Lady Ravenscroft. I wonder where they are now. They must have retired before now, long ago."
"Well, it was rather sad," said Mrs. Oliver. "Perhaps you read about it in the papers."
"Read what?"
"Well, they bought a house in England and then"
"Ah, now, it's coming back to me. I remember reading something about that in the paper. Yes, and thinking then that I knew the name Ravenscroft, but I couldn't quite remember when and how. They fell over a cliff, didn't they? Something of that kind."
"Yes," said Mrs. Oliver, "something of that kind."
"Now look here, dearie, it's so nice to see you, it is. You must let me give you a cup of tea."
"Really," said Mrs. Oliver, "I don't need any tea. Really, I don't want it."
"Of course you want some tea. If you don't mind now, come into the kitchen, will you? I mean, I spend most of my time there now. It's easier to get about there. But I take visitors always into this room because I'm proud of my things, you know. Proud of my things and proud of all the children and the others."
"I think," said Mrs. Oliver, "that people like you must have had a wonderful life with all the children you've looked after."
"Yes. I remember when you were a little girl, you liked to listen to the stories I told you. There was one about a tiger, I remember, and one about monkeys - monkeys in a tree."
"Yes," said Mrs. Oliver, "I remember those. It was a very long time ago." Her mind swept back to herself, a child of six or seven, walking in button boots that were rather too tight on a road in England, and listening to a story of India and Egypt from an attendant Nanny. And this was Nanny. Mrs. Matcham was Nanny. She looked round the room as she followed her hostess out. At the pictures of girls, of schoolboys, of children and various middle-aged people, all mainly photographed in their best clothes and sent in nice frames or other things because they hadn't forgotten Nanny. Because of them, probably, Nanny was having a reasonably comfortable old age with money supplied. Mrs. Oliver felt a sudden desire to burst out crying. This was so unlike her that she was able to stop herself by an effort of will. She followed Mrs. Matcham to the kitchen. There she produced the offering she had brought.
"Well, I never! A tin of Tophole Thathams tea. Always my favorite. Fancy you remembering. I can hardly ever get it nowadays. And that's my favorite tea biscuits. Well, you are a one for never forgetting. What was it they used to call you - those two little boys who came to play - one would call you Lady Elephant and the other one called you Lady Swan. The one who called you Lady Elephant used to sit on your back and you went about the floor on all fours and pretended to have a trunk you picked things up with."
"You don't forget many things, do you, Nanny?" said Mrs. Oliver. "Ah," said Mrs. Matcham. "Elephants don't forget."
Chapter 8
MRS. OLIVER AT WORK
Mrs. Oliver entered the premises of Williams & Barnet, a well-appointed chemist's shop also dealing with various cosmetics. She paused by a kind of dumbwaiter containing various types of corn remedies, hesitated by a mountain of rubber sponges, wandered vaguely toward the prescription desk and then came down past the well-displayed aids to beauty as imagined by Elizabeth Arden, Helena Rubinstein, Max Factor and other benefit providers for women's lives. She stopped finally near a rather plump girl of thirty-five or so, and inquired for certain lipsticks, then uttered a short cry of surprise. "Why, Marlene - it is Marlene isn't it?"
"Well, I never. It's Mrs. Oliver. I am pleased to see you. It's wonderful, isn't it? All the girls will be very excited when I tell them that you've been in to buy things here."
"No need to tell them," said Mrs. Oliver.
"Oh, now I'm sure they'll be bringing out their autograph books!"
"I'd rather they didn't," said Mrs. Oliver. "And how are you, Marlene?"
"Oh, getting along, getting along," said Marlene.
"I didn't know whether you'd be working here still."
"Well, it's as good as any other place, I think, and they treat you very well here, you know. I had a rise in salary last year and I'm more or less in charge of this cosmetic counter now."
"And your mother? Is she well?"
"Oh, yes. Mum will be pleased to hear I've met you."
"Is she still living in her same house down the - the road past the hospital?"
"Oh, yes, we're still there. Dad's not been so well. He's been in hospital for a while, but Mum keeps along very well indeed. Oh, she will be pleased to hear I've seen you. Are you staying here by any chance?"
"Not really," said Mrs. Oliver. "I'm just passing through, as a matter of fact. I've been to see an old friend and I wonder now -" she looked at her wrist watch. "Would your mother be at home now, Marlene? I could just call in and see her. Have a few words before I have to get on."
"Oh, do do that," said Marlene. "She'd be ever so pleased. I'm sorry I can't leave here and come with you, but I don't think - well, it wouldn't be viewed very well. You know, I can't get off for another hour and a half."
"Oh, well, some other time," said Mrs. Oliver. "Anyway, I can't quite remember - was it Number Seventeen or has it got a name?"
"It's called Laurel Cottage."
"Oh, yes, of course. How stupid of me. Well, nice to have seen you." She hurried out plus one unwanted lipstick in her bag, and drove her car down the main street of Chipping Bartram and turned, after passing a garage and a hospital building, down a rather narrow road which had quite pleasant small houses built on either side of it. She left the car outside Laurel Cottage and went in. A thin, energetic woman with grey hair, of about fifty years of age, opened the door and displayed instant signs of recognition. "Why, so it's you, Mrs. Oliver. Ah, well, now. Not seen you for years and years, I haven't."
"Oh, it's a very lon
g time."
"Well, come in then; come in. Can I make you a nice cup of tea?"
"I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Oliver, "because I've had tea already with a friend, and I've got to get back to London. As it happened, I went into the chemist for something I wanted and I saw Marlene there."
"Yes, she's got a very good job there. They think a lot of her in that place. They say she's got a lot of enterprise."
"Well, that's very nice. And how are you, Mrs. Buckle? You look very well. Hardly older than when I saw you last."
"Oh, I wouldn't like to say that. Grey hairs, and I've lost a lot of weight."
"This seems to be a day when I meet a lot of friends I knew formerly," said Mrs. Oliver, going into the house and being led into a small, rather over clustered sitting room. "I don't know if you remember Mrs. Carstairs - Mrs. Julia Carstairs."
"Oh, of course I do. Yes, rather. She must be getting on."
"Oh, yes, she is, really. But we talked over a few old days, you know. In fact, we went as far as talking about that tragedy that occurred. I was in America at the time so I didn't know much about it. People called Ravenscroft."
"Oh, I remember that well."
"You worked for them, didn't you, at one time, Mrs. Buckle?"
"Yes. I used to go in three mornings a week. Very nice people they were. You know, really military lady and gentleman, as you might say. The old school."
"It was a very tragic thing to happen."
"Yes, it was, indeed."
"Were you still working for them at that time?"
"No. As a matter of fact, I'd given up going there. I had my old Aunt Emma come to live with me and she was rather blind and not very well, and I couldn't really spare the time any more to go out doing things for people. But I'd been with them up to about a month or two before that."
"It seemed such a terrible thing to happen," said Mrs. Oliver. "I understand that they thought it was a suicide pact."
"I don't believe that," said Mrs. Buckle, "I'm sure they'd never have committed suicide together. Not people that age. And living so pleasantly together as they did. Of course, they hadn't lived there very long."
"No, I suppose they hadn't," said Mrs. Oliver. "They lived somewhere near Bournemouth, didn't they, when they first came to England?"
"Yes, but they found it was a bit too far for getting to London from there, and so that's why they came to Chipping Bartram. Very nice house it was, and a nice garden."
"Were they both in good health when you were working for them last?"
"Well, they felt their age a bit as most people do. The General, he'd had some kind of heart trouble or a slight stroke. Something of that kind, you know. They'd take pills, you know, and lie up a bit from time to time."
"And Mrs, Ravenscroft?"
"Well, I think she missed the life she'd had abroad, you know. They didn't know so very many people there, although they got to know a good many families, of course, being the sort of class they were. But I suppose it wasn't like India or those places. You know, where you have a lot of servants. I suppose gay parties and that sort of thing."
"You think she missed her gay parties?"
"Well, I don't know that exactly."
"Somebody told me she'd taken to wearing a wig."
"Oh, she'd got several wigs," said Mrs. Buckle, smiling slightly. "Very smart ones and very expensive. You know, from time to time she'd send one back to the place she'd got it from in London, and they'd redress it for her again and send it. There were all kinds. You know, there was one with auburn hair, and one with little grey curls all over her head, Really, she looked very nice in that one. And two - well, not so attractive really but useful for - you know - windy days when you wanted something to put on when it might be raining. Thought a lot about her appearance, you know, and spent a lot of her money on clothes."
"What do you think was the cause of the tragedy?" said Mrs. Oliver. "You see, not being anywhere near here and not seeing any of my friends at that time because I was in America, I missed hearing anything about it and, well, one doesn't like to ask questions or write letters about things of that kind. I suppose there must have been some cause. I mean, it was General Ravenscroft's own revolver that was used, I understand."
"Oh, yes, he had two of those in the house because he said that no house was safe without. Perhaps he was right there, you know. Not that they'd had any trouble beforehand as far as I know. One afternoon a rather nasty sort of fellow came along to the door. Didn't like the look of him, I didn't. Wanted to see the General. Said he'd been in the General's regiment when he was a young fellow. The General asked him a few questions and I think thought as how he didn't - well, thought he wasn't very reliable. So he sent him off."
"You think then that it was someone outside that did it?"
"Well, I think it must have been, because I can't see any other thing. Mind you, I didn't like the man who came and did the gardening for them very much. He hadn't got a very good reputation and I gather he'd had a few jail sentences earlier in his life. But of course the General took up his references and he wanted to give him a chance."
"So you think the gardener might have killed them?"
"Well, I - I always thought that. But then I'm probably wrong. But it doesn't seem to me - I mean, the people who said there was some scandalous story or something about either her or him and that either he'd shot her or she'd shot him, that's all nonsense, I'd say. No, it was some outsider. One of these people that - well, it's not as bad as it is nowadays because that, you must remember, was before people began getting all this violence idea. But look at what you read in the papers every day now. Young men, practically only boys still, taking a lot of drugs and going wild and rushing about, shooting a lot of people for nothing at all, asking a girl in a pub to have a drink with them and then they see her home and next day her body's found in a ditch. Stealing children out of prams from their mothers, taking a girl to a dance and murdering her or strangling her on the way back. If anything, you feel as anyone can do anything. And anyway, there's that nice couple, the General and his wife, out for a nice walk in the evening, and there they were, both shot through the head."
"Was it through the head?"
"Well, I don't remember exactly now and of course I never saw anything myself. But anyway, just went for a walk as they often did."
"And they'd not been on bad terms with each other?"
"Well, they had words now and again, but who doesn't?"
"No boyfriend or girlfriend?"
"Well, if you can use that term of people of that age, oh, I mean there was a bit of talk here and there, but it was all nonsense. Nothing to it at all. People always want to say something of that kind."
"Perhaps one of them was - ill."
"Well, Lady Ravenscroft had been up to London once or twice consulting a doctor about something and I rather think she was going into hospital, or planning to go into hospital for an operation of some kind, though she never told me exactly what it was. But I think they managed to put her right - she was in this hospital for a short time. No operation, I think. And when she came back, she looked very much younger. Altogether, she'd had a lot of face treatment and you know, she looked so pretty in these wigs with curls on them. Rather as though she'd got a new lease of life."
"And General Ravenscroft?"
"He was a very nice gentleman and I never heard or knew of any scandal about him and I don't think there was any. People say things, but then they want to say something when there's been a tragedy of any kind. It seems to me perhaps as he might have had a blow on the head in India or something like that, I had an uncle or a great-uncle, you know, who fell off his horse there once. Hit it on a cannon or something and he was very queer afterwards. All right for about six months and then they had to put him into an asylum because he wanted to take his wife's life the whole time. He said she was persecuting him and following him and that she was a spy for another nation. Ah, there's no saying what things happen or can happen in fa
milies."
"Anyway, you don't think there was any truth in some of the stories about them that I have happened to hear of, bad feeling between them so that one of them shot the other and then shot himself or herself?"
"Oh, no, I don't."
"Were her children at home at the time?"
"No. Miss - er - oh, what was her name now, Rosie? No. Penelope?"
"Celia," said Mrs. Oliver. "She's my goddaughter."
"Oh, of course she is. Yes, I know that now. I remember you coming and taking her out once. She was a high-spirited girl, rather bad-tempered in some ways, but she was very fond of her father and mother, I think. No, she was away at a school in Switzerland when it happened. I'm glad to say, because it would have been a terrible shock to her if she'd been at home and the one who saw them."
"And there was a boy, too, wasn't there?"
"Oh, yes. Master Edward. His father was a bit worried about him, I think. He looked as though he disliked his father."
"Oh, there's nothing in that. Boys go through that stage, I think. Was he very devoted to his mother?"
"Well, she fussed over him a bit too much, I think, which he found tiresome. You know, they don't like a mother fussing over them, telling them to wear thicker vests or put an extra pullover on. His father, he didn't like the way he wore his hair. It was - well, they weren't wearing hair like the way they are nowadays, but they were beginning to, if you know what I mean."
"But the boy wasn't at home at the time of the tragedy?"
"No."
"I suppose it was a shock to him?"
"Well, it must have been. Of course, I wasn't going to the house any more at that time, so I didn't hear so much. If you ask me, I didn't like that gardener. What was his name now - Fred, I think. Fred Wizell. Some name like that. Seems to me if he'd done a bit of - well, a bit of cheating or something like that and the General had found him out and was going to sack him, I wouldn't put it past him."