True Love Ways

by Sally Quilford

  “We should get Peg Bradbourne on the case,” said Peter Mortimer. It was only then that Meredith realised the whole carriage had stopped to listen to the old policeman. Drew looked at Meredith and raised his eyes heavenward. She sensed he didn’t believe a word the old man said.

  “You know Peg Bradbourne?” asked Meredith.

  “Why yes, she lives in Midchester. Why, do you?”

  “She's my aunty.”

  “Goodness, you're not little Meredith, are you? Mary's girl?”

  “Yes, that's right.”

  “Do you know I've been sitting here wondering who you remind me of,” said Peter Mortimer. “I don't suppose you know me, Meredith. I remember you though, coming to the vicarage with your aunt, in pigtails.”

  “I thought I'd seen you somewhere before. It's been a while since I was at Midchester. I've been living with my other aunt in Sheffield.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember your aunty Sheila coming to take you away. I take it you know about Peg's broken ankle.”

  For the next half an hour, Meredith talked happily with Reverend Mortimer about her memories of Midchester and visits to her Aunty Peg's cottage. “I can still smell her strawberry jam,” said Meredith. “And her boiled fruit cake. Aunty Sheila tries her best, but Aunty Peg got the best baking skills, I think.”

  “How did your aunts come to raise you?” asked Clarice.

  “My mother died during the war. She was the youngest. Aunt Sheila and Aunt Peg were in their late teens when she was born, and my grandmother died giving birth to mum. So in effect they were her mothers. Then they became mine.” Meredith smiled sadly.

  “What about your father?”

  Meredith shrugged. “I don't know much about him. He died before I was born.”

  Edith coughed slightly, and seemed to be about to say something, but then changed her mind. She sat with her lips tight together, in a disapproving way, contemplating her coat buttons. It occurred to Meredith that Edith knew the truth about her illegitimacy, as did the Reverend Mortimer no doubt. Not that it had ever bothered Meredith. She had been given nothing but love. Even Aunty Sheila, who was the more prim and proper of the sisters, had never treated Meredith as if she had brought shame in the family. Despite that, she found herself looking at Drew, wondering what he would think if he knew the truth.

  She had also lied to her new employers. Well not exactly lied. Just didn't tell them. She guessed that the headmistress of Willowmead Academy would not appreciate someone born the wrong side of the blanket teaching the daughters of royals and industrialists.

  “Of course,” said the old policeman, sounding peeved at having lost his audience, “vicars are the ones you've really got to watch. Have their hands in the collection box more often than not. And would kill to...” He stopped talking and looked around the carriage. Drew appeared to have frozen in time, and Edith's head shot up, forgetting about her coat buttons. Even the younger people in the carriage had stopped whispering to each other and looked at the old policeman.

  “Yes?” said Meredith.

  “What? Oh nothing. I'm going to get a cuppa from the buffet car. Excuse me.”

  Chapter Two

  When the old man had gone, Drew sat down in his place, opposite Meredith and smiled. “I wonder how many airings those stories have had over the years.”

  “He's probably lonely,” said Meredith. “Getting mixed up in murder, even at an official level, must help break the ice and start a conversation.”

  “Humph,” said Edith. “It wasn't much of a conversation. And accusing men of the cloth of dishonesty. I don't care what the Church of England says, or who they send...” she cast a hateful look in Drew's direction, “they won't find any wrongdoing in Reverend Mortimer's church.”

  “I don't think he was accusing Peter,” said Clarice, gently. “He was merely talking in general.”

  “In general indeed,” said Edith. “He meant to cause offence, and he did. All that talk about deceitful housemaids too. It's only in fiction you get that sort of thing.” Edith stood up and left the carriage.

  “Oh dear,” said Peter. “I'd better go and calm her down.”

  “Why?” asked Clarice.

  “Because if she gets in a mood we shan't eat tonight.”

  “I could whip us up something.” Clarice laughed.

  Peter kissed her nose. “Of course you could, darling.” He left the carriage anyway.

  “I suppose I ought to go and pour oil on troubled waters too,” Clarice said to Drew. “She's determined not to like me.” It was something that Clarice appeared to find mystifying.

  “I'm going for a smoke,” said Jimmy. Betty left with him, with Bert following soon after.

  “Was it something we said, do you think?” said Drew, on finding he and Meredith were alone in the carriage. “Not that I'm complaining.”

  “Are you really investigating Reverend Mortimer's church?” asked Meredith.

  “Oh, you picked up on that did you? Yes, I'm something of a troubleshooter in the Church of England. You know, travelling around, checking all is in order. Or simply taking over when some vicar has run off with an actress.” He smiled wryly. “Not that I blame them. There have been a few discrepancies in Reverend Mortimer's church. But it'll be something quite simple, I'm sure. He doesn't seem to me to be a dishonest man.”

  “No, nor to me. Not that I know him that well. I didn't even recognise him at first. It's a long time since I was in Midchester.”

  “You don't know Edith then?”

  Meredith shook her head. “Not at all. Or if she was around then, I don’t remember. Careful, the old man is coming back.” She heard the old policeman's voice in the corridor.

  “Religious mania,” he was saying. “People kill for religion.

  “I suppose I ought to give him his seat,” said Drew. But the man didn't come into the carriage again. He seemed content to stand in the corridor, talking to a new audience.

  He droned on in a monologue, hardly seeming to draw breath. Every now and then his voice rose, as he became excited by some aspect of murder. “Wouldn't be surprised if they murdered the uncle too... Stole the car and went to sea, I reckon … Oh, about twenty thousand pounds in all … with a hammer then put it back on the shelf as cool as you like … I never forget a face ... came to me like a flash. Luckily I'm too much of a professional to give the game away.”

  Eventually his voice died down as he moved away, presumably back towards the buffet car. Meredith felt uneasy, but could not fathom why. The air seemed to crackle with malevolence.

  After a few minutes, Betty and Bert appeared outside the door, and leaned against the window in the corridor. “Have you told him yet?” asked Bert.

  “No, it's like I said, I need to find the right time.” She lowered her tone. “Jimmy's … well, you know what he's like. I don't want him to hurt you, Bert.”

  “I can take care of myself. He flashes that knife around, but he's nothing really.”

  “He's your best friend,” hissed Betty.

  “You didn't think of that when...”

  She stopped him by putting her fingers to his lips. “Shh, do you want everyone to know?”

  “Well, yeah, actually I do.”

  “Don't.” Betty flounced into the carriage and sat down a couple of seats away from Meredith.

  The rest of the passengers in the carriage returned, but the old policeman was nowhere to be seen. Clarice, Reverend Mortimer and Edith sat on Drew's side of the carriage, whilst the three younger passengers were on Meredith's side. Betty muttered to Jimmy, “Where did you last have it then?”

  “Shh, don't take on so,” Jimmy whispered. “Bert, have you got it?”

  “No, I told you. I don't know where you put it.” Bert, who was next to the door, folded his arms, and turned to look out of through the carriage door into the corridor. Jimmy turned the other way, with Meredith between himself and the external window. Betty sat between them, rolling her eyes and sighing.

  “I
think our policeman friend has probably found a more willing audience,” said Reverend Mortimer. “Boring some chap back there about his heyday in the force.”

  “It isn't right to take that much pleasure in murder,” said Edith. “He's as bad as Peg Bradbourne.” She clamped her lips together. “Sorry, Miss Bradbourne, but it's the truth. Your aunty takes too much delight in other peoples' suffering.”

  “My aunt is a staunch defender of justice,” said Meredith, hotly. “She believes that to take another life is the worst sin anyone can commit, and I happen to agree with her.”

  “Hear hear,” said Drew, putting his hands together in a silent clapping motion.

  Meredith began to wish the journey was over. There was a tension in the air which disturbed her greatly. She looked around her fellow passengers but could not tell where it originated. So instead, she gazed out of the window, and was relieved when the blue remembered hills of Shropshire began to appear.

  Half an hour later they pulled into Midchester station. As she stepped out onto the platform, Meredith found herself looking back into the train, searching for the old policeman. There was no sign of him that she could see, but that didn't mean anything. He could easily be tucked away in a carriage somewhere or in one of the toilet compartments.

  “I can't see him either,” said Drew. Meredith looked around at him startled, not least because he understood what she was doing. “Do you need any more help with that suitcase?”

  “No, thank you, Reverend Cunningham...”

  “Drew.”

  “Drew. Aunty Peg's isn't far away. On Station Road in fact, in the old Constable's house. Quite fitting for en elderly sleuth, yes?” Why Meredith felt the need to give him her exact whereabouts she did not know.

  “Almost as if it was meant to be. Well, perhaps I'll see you around Midchester.”

  “I'm sure you shall. Though I'll be with Aunty Peg a lot.” Should she invite him around? She wanted to, but shyness prevented her. She wasn’t a natural when it came to chatting up men, and the fact that he was a vicar seemed to put a glass wall between them.

  As Meredith spoke, the train pulled out of the station. Once again she searched for the policeman, hoping to see him in one of the carriage windows, but to no avail. All the other passengers who shared her compartment had already left the station. She could see Reverend Mortimer, his wife and their housekeeper waiting at the taxi rank. Meredith remembered that the vicarage was at the other end of the village.

  “Don't worry,” said Drew. “I'm sure he'll be tucked away in a corner somewhere, reliving his glory days with all those who got on the train at Midchester.”

  “Yes, of course. And he doesn't get out till Hereford, does he? So he’s got plenty of time to go through it all again. I'd better be going. Thank you again for your help.”

  She was just about to pick up her case and leave the station, when the Hereford train drew to a screeching halt just beyond the station. A guard jumped off and ran back up the track, speaking to one of the porters. “Get the ambulance and the police!” he shouted. “There's a man injured in the toilet! He’s been stabbed!”

  ***

  The constable's cottage was much as Meredith remembered it, with roses around the door, and a well-stocked country garden. Not that it had been a constable's cottage for a long time. A purpose built police station had been built at the turn of the century. But as with all small towns, the old names of buildings endured. The cottage had once been a two up two down, not counting the old jail cell at the back, which now served as a larder. It had been built onto over the years, adding a new section with an extra room downstairs, which served as the drawing room, and an extra bedroom upstairs.

  “Nice place,” Drew had said, after he'd insisted on carrying her suitcase for her anyway.

  “It's my favourite place in the whole world,” said Meredith, tears stinging her eyes. She was home at last. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen it. Thank you for helping me again. I'd invite you in but...” She didn’t want him to go. She wished he would put his arm around her and tell her that everything would be alright. Which was silly. She hardly knew him. But she was shaken by what had happened to the old policeman, even though if she were honest, she had been expecting it.

  “No, you go and see your aunt. You’ll both have lots to talk about. I'll call on you tomorrow perhaps, to see how you are?”

  “I'd like that, Drew.”

  Meredith let herself in through the front door, which was never locked in the daytime “Aunty Peg,” she called.

  “Meredith! It’s my darling girl, in here! In here!”

  Meredith heard a chastening voice say, 'Now, now, dear, we don't want to get over-excited.”

  “You might not want to, Nurse Chalmers, but I certainly do. I haven’t seen her for fourteen years!”

  Meredith found her aunt in the drawing room. Aunty Peg sat on a chair near to the fireplace. “Oh darling, come here!” She ran to kneel by her aunt, and was engulfed in lavendar scented arms. Immediately she was fourteen years younger, and ready for the type of adventure only Aunty Peg could offer.

  “Oh Aunt Peg, I’ve missed you so much.” The tears that Meredith held back in front of Drew began to fall.

  “Let me look at you.” Peg held Meredith at arm’s length, and wiped a stray tear from her niece’s cheek. “You are so beautiful. Just like Mary.”

  “Now,” said Nurse Chalmers, who was an efficient looking woman in her fifties, “I'll leave you both alone for a while, but promise me Miss Bradbourne that you won't talk to your aunt about murders and things. We don't want her getting upset.”

  Aunty Peg waited until Chalmers had gone from the room before saying to Meredith. “Ignore here and tell me exactly why I've just heard the Hereford train stop outside the station.”

  Chapter Three

  “He'd been stabbed in the back with the teddy boy's flick knife,” Meredith told Aunty Peg over a cup of tea and a slice of hot, buttered toast. Her joy at returning to her aunt's was somewhat subdued by the awful events at the station. She had since learned that the old policeman's name was Alfred Turner. “He’d bled to death. But Jimmy – that's the teddy boy – had gone from the station by the time they realised. I knew something would happen to Mr Turner, as soon as he started spouting about his old cases.”

  “Old policeman talk about their cases all the time, dear. Like old soldiers reliving battles. They don't all get stabbed for it.” Aunty Peg sat in a huge chintz covered chair, with her foot, incased in plaster, resting on a stool. As far as Meredith could see, she had not changed at all. Her strawberry blonde hair was a little greyer, but her lined face still had tremendous vitality, and her green eyes sparkled with intelligence.

  “There was an atmosphere, Aunty Peg. I could feel it.” Meredith told her aunt about the old policeman's pause when he mentioned murderous vicars.

  “I know of Turner,” said Aunty Peg. “He was stationed in Hereford, but sometimes they came out this far out to help us in our own enquiries, Hereford being the largest headquarters in the area. He was a rather stupid man, talked far too much about the case to all and sundry. A detective, I believe, should always keep their cards pretty close to their chest. But as I say, he’s retired, and all old policeman discuss their cases.”

  “He obviously never got on the same train as one of the murderers before. If that is what this is about,” said Meredith.

  “You're not certain, dear?”

  “The knife that killed him belonged to Jimmy. There's something going on between Betty – Jimmy's girlfriend – and his best friend, Bert. It occurred to me that if Jimmy didn't do it, then Bert might have.”

  “To get Jimmy out of the way, you mean. Yes, that is possible, and more likely than Turner suddenly coming face to face with a killer after so many years. A bit tawdry perhaps, but murder is seldom a classy affair.”

  “But,” said Meredith, who was enjoying herself far more than she felt she ought to, “it might not be that long. He r
etired just ten years ago, and when he was speaking, he didn't give details of how long ago things might have happened, and he didn't mention names at all.”

  “No. That makes it difficult. List for me again what cases he mentioned.”

  Meredith ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke. “There was a housemaid who murdered her employer, but too soon to get the money. Oh, before that he mentioned a man who murdered his wife but got away with it. Then some teenager who stabbed a dozen people...”

  “We could probably half that figure, allowing for exaggeration,” said Peg. “Not that stabbing six people isn’t bad enough.”

  Meredith nodded in agreement. “He also said something about a child. He didn't think much of children at all, and claimed that a parent was hanged for the murder of the other parent, but he thought the child did it. Then there was the bit about vicars with their hands in the till. But he was also talking to someone in the corridor. He mentioned religious mania, someone stealing a car and going to sea. Someone hitting someone else with a hammer then returning it. Oh, he said something about twenty thousand pounds before that. Then he went on about never forgetting a face, and that something had come back to him like a flash. I wasn't really listening Aunty Peg.”