by Leo McNeir
Before Marnie could reply, the line went dead.
“Ben’s okay?” said Ralph. “What was going on there?”
“Willow was in a bit of a state. I think she sat down on the floor and some nurses thought she was in need of help. The main thing is Ben’s on the mend, and they don’t think he’s suffered brain damage.”
“Thank goodness.” Ralph sat down. “What a relief. I feel like I could use a brandy.”
“So soon after breakfast?” said Marnie.
“So could you, darling.” Ralph pointed at her.
“What d’you mean?”
“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but aren’t those tears running down your face?”
*
Marnie wasted no time when she reached the office. She immediately rang Anne on the mobile and caught her as she was going into her first class. Her joy at receiving the news about Ben was overwhelming, and for a moment Marnie thought she was going to burst into tears. Taking a few steadying breaths, Anne went into practical mode and said she would call in at the ITU after college and take some fruit for Willow and Ben.
Next, Marnie rang her sister, who was delighted but less ecstatic than Anne; she had not personally met Willow or Ben, after all.
“What about your other charge, Marnie?”
“Who?”
“You know, the Dutchman?”
“Maurice Dekker is not Dutch, I keep telling you. He just has a Dutch name.”
“Okay, but you know what I mean. So what about him?”
“I’m getting medical help for him. It’s on my list.”
“Oh well, if Anne’s on the case it’s got to be all right.”
Marnie wondered not for the first time if Beth was psychic She glanced down at the to-do list that Anne had left for her. Halfway down, she saw the entry:
Maurice – call doctor
Marnie’s next priority was to ring Margaret Giles at the school. More overwhelming relief, more struggling for self-control. Marnie was feeling drained by the outpouring of emotion before the working day had even begun. She promised to keep Margaret in the picture and was about to hang up when Margaret lowered her voice.
“Marnie, do you have any news about Valerie?”
“No idea,” Marnie replied, surprised at her own terseness. “And I don’t think I care.”
“I can understand how you feel, Marnie, but I think I ought to visit her.”
“Really.” Her tone was icy. “You’d better check that’s possible before you go. She’s sedated and being kept under police guard.”
“My goodness! I’ll phone her husband again and let him know about Ben.”
“Up to you, Margaret. I’m sure you know what’s best.”
Margaret lowered her voice. “I can’t believe Valerie would really try to harm Ben.”
“Perhaps she didn’t try to harm him,” said Marnie. “Perhaps she tried to kill him. There’s a difference.”
Marnie was looking up the number for the surgery when a call came in. It was Cathy Lamb checking when it would be convenient for her to come and take statements. Marnie suggested the afternoon when Anne would be back from college. They agreed on a time.
“Oh, Marnie? I’ll want to see … what’s his name … Donovan, is it? I’ll need to take his statement, of course.”
Marnie hesitated. Lamb continued.
“Is there a problem with that, Marnie?”
“Of course not. He’ll be here. He stayed on in view of what’s happened, but he needs to get back to London. He can wait until you’ve taken his statement.”
“As a matter of interest, why is he there?”
“He’s a friend … came for the weekend.”
“And he was still with you on Monday,” Lamb observed. “What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a student.”
“Doesn’t his course run on Mondays?”
Marnie could see a black hole looming in front of her. She sensed she was going to perform her usual trick of saying the wrong thing and alienating the police.
“Cathy, he’s a grown-up. He takes his own decisions. It’s not my business how he chooses to live.”
“No, of course not, Marnie. I’m acting like he’s a suspect – force of habit – when he’s just a witness.”
“More than a witness, I’d have thought,” said Marnie. “He did after all save Ben’s life.”
“Of course.”
“He’s a good lad, Cathy. And we’re lucky he was here, even if he had skipped a few classes.”
Cathy chuckled. “Young love, eh?”
“Yeah.”
*
Cathy Lamb arrived mid-afternoon, coincidentally just minutes after the doctor called to visit Maurice. Marnie sent Anne to fetch Donovan, who had shown the doctor the way to the boat.
While they were waiting for Donovan, Lamb took statements from Marnie and Ralph. They were brief to the point of being skeletal: a cry heard, Ben in the water, Valerie on the bridge having hysterics, Donovan jumping in, pulling Ben out and trying to revive him. Ralph added that he had called the emergency services.
“Cathy, have you heard the latest news about Ben?” Marnie asked.
“No. What is it?”
Marnie outlined the situation as told by Willow, adding that she was surprised the police were not in the picture.
“Some are, Marnie, but you know I’m been dealing with the Valerie Paxton side of the investigation.”
“Are you able to tell us anything about that?” said Ralph.
“Strictly speaking, no. But she has been questioned, and that’s not confidential.”
“We didn’t know she’d come round,” Marnie said. “When we last saw her she was saying she’d killed Ben. Is she still saying that?”
Lamb looked from Marnie to Ralph. “It’s not quite as it seemed.”
“Either she tried to kill Ben or she didn’t,” said Marnie. “How can there be any in-between?”
“It’s not as simple as that, Marnie. She’s saying she wished him dead, wished him to have an accident. He heard her on the bridge, looked up, started to stand and slipped on mud. He fell heavily, hit his head on the metal edging of the bank and ended up in the water.”
“Do you believe her story?” said Marnie.
“She’s not trying to get out of it. She blames herself for wanting him to die and distracting him so that he fell.”
“You can’t charge her on those grounds,” said Ralph. “Presumably your forensic people will be able to cast light on what happened?”
“They already have.”
“And?” Marnie urged.
Lamb shrugged. “Oh well, it’ll all come out at the inquest soon enough. Ben’s injury was caused by the metal edging. No doubt about it. We found traces of skin and blood on the steelwork.”
“So Valerie didn’t actually try to kill Ben,” said Marnie.
“She blamed herself, but did not actually touch him,” Ralph added.
“That’s right,” said Lamb. “In a way it was lucky that Paxton cried out. That alerted you all to what was happening. That was how Donovan was able to get to him in time to save him from drowning.”
“So that’s that,” said Marnie.
“There is another possibility, surely,” Ralph said. “Valerie could be lying. She could’ve attacked him and caused him to hit the edging by physical violence.”
“Quite,‘ Lamb agreed. “Which is why we have to check all the witness statements and question Ben, when he’s up to it.”
“And if he corroborates her story, she’ll be in the clear,” said Marnie.
Lamb agreed. “You can’t prosecute someone for their thoughts.”
No-one had noticed Donovan and Anne standing in the doorway.
“She’s lucky this isn’t the seventeenth century,” Donovan said quietly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
“What do you mean?” said Lamb.
“In those days she’d have been tried for witchcraft and
hanged.”
Chapter 51
TLC
In the remaining days of that week, life at Glebe Farm returned to normal. Donovan had driven back to London after giving his statement. Marnie and Anne worked on their projects, while Ralph flew off for his lecture tour of American universities and business schools. He would be gone for ten days and he left with some misgivings. Marnie assured him that all would be well.
Maurice Dekker stayed on his boat and told Marnie he was beginning to feel better. The doctor had diagnosed that he seemed to be recovering from flu. He recommended aspirin to lower temperature and relieve headache, plenty of fluids and bed rest. The colour was soon returning to his cheeks, which Maurice largely attributed to Donovan’s rum-lemon-and-honey concoction. He was cheered by the news that Donovan would be coming up on Sunday.
Anne learnt from Molly Appleton that Valerie Paxton had been discharged from hospital. The word on the street was that no charges were being brought against her by the police. A replacement school secretary had been appointed on a temporary basis. Valerie had initially been signed off for a month on the grounds of post-traumatic stress.
In hospital Ben was giving the medics a hard time, pleading with them. His headache had lifted, all systems were normal and he was restless at being confined to bed when he felt fit enough to return home. He was eventually discharged on Friday after the consultant had seen him during her ward rounds. He had told her he was one hundred per cent fine and wanted to be out in the fresh air. She acquiesced. When Willow told him that Anne would be collecting him in the Mini, he adjusted his personal assessment to one hundred and ten per cent fine.
Only Dominic Brodie continued to suffer. Further scanning had revealed a possible fracture to a vertebra close to the base of the skull. It should heal satisfactorily, but in the meantime the orthopaedic surgeon wanted to keep him under observation, and he would have to persevere with the neck brace a while longer. He would give Karen the news when she came up that evening. She would be distressed, but he knew she would continue to visit him every other day.
*
Late on Friday morning, Marnie was working on the design for the Willards’ hotel when Molly Appleton rang, sounding agitated.
“It’s your Mr Dekker, Marnie.”
Marnie let the your pass without comment. “What about him, Molly?”
“He was in here just now, came to check if he had any post. He seemed to be all right, then he just sort of crumpled. I thought he was going to pass out. Richard came out to support him, but he refused all our offers of help, said he’d be fine and went out.”
“Where is he now?”
“On his way home, I suppose, back to his boat. Marnie, he doesn’t look at all well to me.”
“I’ll come.”
Marnie reached the high street in the Disco to see Maurice shuffling towards the field gate. When she offered to help him into the car, he offered no resistance. But when she announced that she was taking him to hospital, he became alarmed to such an extent that Marnie had to stop the car to calm him down.
“I’ve had flu, that’s all. I thought I was over it, but I’m not as well as I thought I was.” His voice was hoarse and his words came out in staccato fashion. “Marnie, I just need rest. That’s what Donovan said, rest and plenty of fluids. He was right. When he was here, I felt better every day.”
Marnie could see that trying to take him to A and E would only make him more fretful. Reluctantly, she agreed to drive him back to Glebe Farm. She suggested that he might like to move into cottage number three for a few days. He refused the offer, insisting he was comfortable on the boat, where everything was near at hand and familiar.
Marnie took it as a sign of his infirmity that he allowed her to accompany him as far as the boat. She told him to get to bed and promised to return in half an hour with something for lunch. He protested at first, but allowed her to give him two aspirin. She stoked up the wood-burner before going back to the office.
Lunch for Maurice was a bowl of leek and potato soup that Marnie brought in a vacuum flask. It was homemade and smelled delicious. He sat up in bed, saying he was feeling better already. Marnie placed a warm roll in a small basket on the duvet beside him and added his mobile phone as a side dish.
“Call me any time if you need anything at all,” she said, adding with a smile, “I don’t want Donovan telling me off for not looking after you properly.”
“This is most kind, Marnie. Thank you.” He sounded weary, but there was a smile in his voice.
“You’re welcome. We’re going to get you better. I’ll look in later this afternoon. Don’t forget. Ring if you need me.”
*
Anne returned from town in the early afternoon, bringing with her a bundle of books for her next college assignment and Ben. When they came into the office, Ben looked outwardly normal, apart from the dressing on his head, but Marnie noticed he was treading a little more cautiously than before. He kissed her on both cheeks and asked Anne if she had a spare apple before going off to see Poppy and his mother.
Anne took off her blouson jacket while Marnie answered the phone. Molly seemed even more agitated than before.
“It’s in the evening paper, Marnie. I want you to know we didn’t tell them anything. We know how he likes to stay private.”
“Who are you talking about?” Marnie asked. She could think of two people in that category.
“Your Mr Dekker, of course.”
“Molly, he’s not –”
“One of them came into the shop the other day, said he was from the Chronicle. Anyway, he said he wanted stories about the floods and how they affected people’s lives. We said we hadn’t had any problems, being high up like this and all. Only, that Joanne Taylor was in the shop and she said the canal had been damaged, so people were stranded.”
“I’m sure you’re coming to the point any time now,” Marnie said.
“Sorry. The reporter asked her if she knew anything that might interest him. She said there’d been a man with a foreign name who’d tried to go somewhere and had to come back. Er …”
“What is it, Molly?”
“I think I might’ve let slip it was a Dutch name.”
“That wouldn’t do any harm.”
“Mrs Taylor then remembered it and told the reporter. Maurice Dekker, she said. She spelled it out for him.”
“I see.”
“I know. He took her outside to talk, so I didn’t hear any more.”
“And you say it’s in the paper?”
“Early afternoon edition, just come in.”
“I think I’d better see it.”
“Shall I get our boy to drop one in for you when he does his round after school?”
“Please.”
“I’ll make sure he comes to you first. I’m really sorry about this, Marnie. I don’t know why Mr Dekker likes to keep so private, but I know he’d be upset if he knew about the article.”
“Don’t worry, Molly. I’m sure nothing will come of it.”
*
Dominic Brodie had been transferred to a private room for the past few days. He enjoyed not having the bustle of the ward around him and the minor perks, like open visiting hours, a telephone and the newspapers delivered morning and evening.
When the local evening paper arrived mid-afternoon, he shifted in bed to try to find a reasonably comfortable position to settle down for a read. What counted as news for the district around Northampton was generally of little interest to him, but it helped pass the time.
He knew it was a slow news week when he realised that one of the main topics being covered in depth was the weather. When he turned to page five he found a large picture of narrowboats moored near a picturesque lock as background to the heading, Canal Chaos – Waterways in Disarray. One of the sub-headings seized his attention: Flying Dutchman grounded by canal closure.
The article contained few details – many boats stranded, unable to make progress because of land slippage, breac
h of the canal north of London, one boat in particular forced to turn back to Knightly St John. The one specific detail was the name of the hapless boater, Maurice Dekker, apparently known in the area as the Flying Dutchman. Dominic studied the photograph, but it appeared to be taken near a flight of locks that bore no resemblance to Knightly St John.
How ironic, he thought. The one time I have a clear lead on where Maurice is hiding out, and I’m stuck in a hospital bed immobile and in need of care myself.
*
Marnie looked in on Maurice throughout the afternoon, taking him warm drinks and keeping the stove burning. She had decided not to tell him about the newspaper article, which she knew would cause him anguish. She was convinced his condition had worsened, that he had an infection, possibly a virus, and she was planning to ask the doctor to call again.
Knowing that Donovan was planning to stay for Sunday and Monday, she conceived the idea of arranging a visit by the doctor after the weekend while Donovan was around. She thought that would sweeten the pill, metaphorically speaking. Having earned Maurice’s trust, Donovan would be able to reinforce doctor’s orders and make sure Maurice obeyed them.
Marnie had read in a magazine about a group of women who started a company in London making high quality soups. The article mentioned that they once devised a meal as an experiment consisting entirely of different soups, and this formed the basis of her policy for Maurice. Because he was happier when tucked up in bed, it was easier for him to take his meals as soup from a mug. During one trip to a client, she had called in at the supermarket and bought a supply of soups that would give him a balanced diet. The policy began to work, though Maurice still found it difficult to sleep at night. The lack of fresh air and exercise was making him sluggish.
When Marnie called in later in the evening to check he was all right and bank up the stove for the night, Maurice asked for one of his sleeping pills. She was reluctant at first, but Maurice insisted that Donovan – also initially resistant to the idea – had eventually relented. Marnie found a new box of tablets, pressed one from the strip and gave it to Maurice with a glass of water.