True Love Ways

by Sally Quilford

  “That's right, dear.”

  “How did it happen again?”

  “I was coming down the stairs, and it was a bit dark, and there was a loose piece of carpet. Someone was behind me. I think they nearly fell too.”

  “Who?” Meredith spun around. That was the first time Peg had mentioned someone else being on the stairs.

  “I can't remember. I was a bit shaken, and … well my memory isn't what it used to be. By the time I was turned the right way up again, everyone was standing around me at the bottom of the staircase.”

  “Aunty Peg, what did you talk about at dinner that night?” Meredith stopped trying to make herself look presentable and sat down opposite her aunt.

  “Well, all sorts really. Of course the main topic of conversation was the loss of five hundred pounds from the church roof fund.”

  “Is that why you went? To see if you could find out who'd stolen it?”

  “Yes.” Peg smiled mischievously. “It's not exactly a murder, but they don't come along every year. Thank goodness. The ten shilling note from the collection box wasn’t too serious. Sometimes there are people who’ll take money out on the pretext of putting some in. Even in church, sadly. But five hundred pounds from the church roof fund. That was a different kettle of fish.”

  “Did you have any suspicions?”

  “Nothing definite. But well … the Reverend Mortimer was paying for an expensive wedding.”

  “You think the Reverend stole it.”

  “It did cross my mind. Middle aged men sometimes go funny when they marry much younger wives, you know. They want to impress her so she doesn't go off with anyone else.”

  “I don't think Clarice is much younger than him, is she? About ten years?”

  “It's enough, and she looks younger, doesn't she? She's very glamorous.”

  “Is she a resident of Midchester? I don't think I remember her from when I used to stay.”

  “No. I gather her people are from India. Or were before it became independent. She was an English teacher at Bedlington Hall School. She met the vicar when he borrowed the grounds for last year's fete.”

  “What were you doing upstairs at the vicarage? Snooping?”

  Peg looked offended. “I do not snoop, Meredith Bradbourne! Actually the downstairs cloakroom was out of order. That's the trouble with these septic tanks. So we all had to use the one upstairs. Only whilst I was in the bathroom, the landing light blew. So when I came back down, it was quite dark.”

  “Aunty Peg, I want you to keep Chalmers with you whilst I'm out tonight.”

  “Goodness, no, Meredith. I can't cope with that woman's twitterings. She's not interested in anything but enemas and bed baths.”

  “Please, Aunty Peg, for my sake. You see … I'm beginning to think that someone pushed you down the vicarage stairs.” To Meredith's amazement Peg's face broke into a wide smile.

  “Well done, darling. I wondered how long it would take you to work it out.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Aunty Peg, this is not a game or a lesson,” said Meredith, kneeling down by Peg's chair and taking her hand. “If you knew someone tried to ...” She found she could not say 'kill you', “...injure you, then you should have told me immediately. Oh, I should have realised it sooner.”

  “Now, now, don't distress yourself, darling.” Peg stroked Meredith's hair. “I did rather hold back on the information.”

  “Because you were waiting for me to notice, and I failed to. I'm sorry for Mr. Turner, and Colonel Trefusis and the others who have died, but you're more important to me, Aunty Peg. If anything happened to you...”

  “Now don't cry. You'll spoil your make up. Not that you need any. You're so much like your mother. It does my heart good to see what a lovely, intelligent young woman you've become.”

  “Not intelligent enough,” said Meredith, darkly. “I'm missing something big, and I don't know what it is.”

  “There's always a final piece of the jigsaw, darling, and when you have it, everything falls into place. It's out there, waiting for you to find it. Now, you run along and don't worry about me. If someone wanted to kill me, they'd have done it by now. No, I was simply got out of the way for a while. But whoever did it, didn't bank on my successor. Go on. Don't keep Reverend Drew waiting.”

  “I thought you said we shouldn't trust people just because we like them.”

  “He's different.”

  “How?”

  “Oh well, darling, if you can't work it out for yourself, I'm not going to tell you.”

  The truth was that Meredith knew exactly what Peg meant about Drew. He was different. She could no more imagine him sticking a knife into a man than Doris Day turning out to be a Russian spy. And she had to trust someone, otherwise she would go mad. It would be hard to accept there was any goodness in the world if she suspected everyone of being a cold-blooded killer. And she needed to believe there was goodness in Midchester, that it was a place worth protecting from the dark things in life. Otherwise what on earth were she and Aunty Peg fighting for?

  As she walked to the vicarage, she could see that goodness. Children playing in the street, families out for an evening walk, men washing their cars, whilst women sat in deckchairs, enjoying the cool evening breeze. Meredith was sorry she would have to leave to go to Willowmead School in September. She could quite happily spend the rest of her life in Midchester. A little voice told her that she would be even happier if Drew were there too, but she pushed that aside. One kiss … or one and a half kisses to be exact … did not signify a lasting relationship. He had made her no promises, and even if his life had been much like hers, that did not mean he would choose her as a wife. She knew for a fact she would make a terrible vicar's wife. She hardly ever went to church, except at Christmas, and she would probably find it hard to get excited about polishing pews.

  No, she thought, as she neared the vicarage. Best to put that idea out of her head straight away. Even if the image of her dressed in white, at Drew's side, whilst Peter Mortimer took them through their vows, kept returning to her.

  The vicarage looked festive when she arrived. There were fairy lights in the trees near to the door, and when she was ushered into the hall by Edith, who took her coat, she could see through the opening that the table in the dining room was set as if for royalty, with silver cutlery and crystal wine glasses. A nagging voice that told Meredith there were people starving in the world was quickly silenced. Why shouldn't a vicar and his wife have nice things? For all she knew they'd been handed down from ancestors.

  “Meredith, how lovely to see you again.” Clarice's warm smile dispelled any nerves Meredith might have had about eating in such opulent surroundings. “I've been longing to have a proper talk to you, but I've been so busy this week, up at Bedlington Hall. Come on into the drawing room. What can I get you? A sherry? Darling, pour Meredith a sherry, will you?”

  “Hello, Meredith. Nice to see you again,” said Peter Mortimer in his kindly way. He handed her a glass of sherry. “You already know Drew, of course.”

  “Yes. Hello, Drew.”

  He stood with his back to the mantlepiece, nursing a glass of sherry, and frowning. “Hello, Meredith,” he said, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

  “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

  “Drew's only worried because the car has been stolen,” said Peter.

  “Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” said Meredith. “We dropped it off this afternoon, didn't we?”

  Drew nodded, in agreement, but didn't speak.

  “Oh yes, I'm sure you and Drew took good care of it,” said Peter, hastily. “But when we returned it had gone. Edith didn't see anything, as she's been hard at work in the kitchen all day. It'll be some kids, I'm sure. Anyway, let's not allow it to spoil our evening. Let me introduce you to a few of our other guests, Meredith.”

  She was treated to an array of names that she found hard to remember. There were two other couples, local landowners as far as Meredith could make
out, and a woman in a tweed trouser suit. Her hair was very short, almost like a man's, and she smoked a thin cigar.

  “Beth Pendragon,” she said, holding her hand out to Meredith. “Headmistress up at Bedlington Hall.”

  “It's nice to meet you.”

  “Hear you're going to Willowmead in September.”

  “That's right, to teach English,” said Meredith.

  “Good school. Can afford to pay well, I'm sure. We could be better but not much money for staff. Most work for love. Course if we could attract decent staff, then we could charge more. Then pay more. You see how it is?”

  “Erm … oh yes,” said Meredith, feeling she was on trial for something, but not quite sure what.

  “Short one English teacher. You know what I'm saying.”

  “Yes, I think so,” said Meredith, frowning. Miss Pendragon's staccato tones were somewhat hard to follow.

  “Hard to get one by September.”

  “Yes...”

  “Let's all eat, shall we,” said Clarice, dragging Meredith away. “Ignore her, dear. She's always touting for staff. She wanted me to go back and teach, but now I'm an old married woman, I'm quite happy staying at home.”

  Clarice had excelled herself where dinner was concerned. A starter of vichysoisse was followed by Dover sole, then a meat dish of venison, and topped off with a strawberry and crème anglaise flan. Cheese and biscuits were on offer for those who felt they had not had enough to eat.

  Over the meat dish, Meredith chatted to Clarice. “I hear that you and Reverend Mortimer met whilst you were teaching at Bedlington Hall.”

  “That's right. It was when we had the fete last year. I helped him with many of the arrangements.” Clarice's words were punctuated by Edith slamming down a dish full of vegetables. “Thank you, Edith,” said Clarice, waving her away. For some reason it made Meredith blush. She supposed that as she was not used to having servants, she did not know how one treated them. All the same, she felt a little sorry for Edith. “It was love at first sight, wasn't it, darling?”

  Peter was at the other end of the table. He raised his glass to his lovely wife and said, 'It most certainly was.”

  “Are you from this area?” asked Meredith, despite already knowing that Clarice's family were from India.

  “No, I was brought up in India. Before the independence, of course. They were magical days.”

  Meredith was tempted to suggest that the Indian population might feel differently, but she liked Clarice, so did not argue the point.

  “And your parents are still out there?”

  “No, Mother and Father live in Malta now. The warmer climate is better for daddy, isn't it, Peter?”

  Reverend Mortimer nodded and smiled.

  “We called in to see them whilst on our honeymoon. We visited the Holy Lands, as part of a cruise.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Expensive, I shouldn't wonder,” said Miss Pendragon.

  “Well, yes it was, rather. But you only have one honeymoon.”

  “Reverend didn't. He's been married before,” said Miss Pendragon. Meredith suppressed a smile. There was something about Miss Pendragon she liked, despite the woman's abruptness. Or perhaps because of it. She had the feeling that the headmistress would always be honest, even if the truth hurt.

  “How did you come to be headmistress at Bedlington Hall?” asked Meredith.

  “My uncle lived in the place. Till he was murdered.”

  “Colonel Trefusis?” Meredith almost dropped her glass.

  “That's the one.”

  “So you're his niece?”

  “Said so, didn't I? Saw the place when I came up for his funeral. Thought it would make a good school. Didn't have the money then. Got some backers, and returned.”

  Meredith wondered whether there was an etiquette about asking whether someone had inherited a fortune. “Did he leave you the house?” She knew that Trefusis had rented the property, but could find no other way of opening up the subject of inheritance.

  “No. Rented it. Didn't leave me anything. Left it all to some girl.”

  “Another niece?”

  “That's what people thought. But I'm his only niece. Some young thing wrapped him around her finger, then got all the dosh. Pretty bad show if you ask me. Never met her. Would have given her a piece of my mind if I had.”

  “What was he like? Colonel Trefusis.”

  “Bit of a bad boy in his youth. Travelled the world. Girl in every port. Women love that. Can't see it myself. Married a girl over in India. Thought she could tame him. She couldn't. Loved her though. In the only way he could love. Never got over her death. That’s why he came here. To escape past.”

  “Queenie?” Drew's interruption almost made Meredith jump again. “He was married to Queenie?”

  She remembered the newspaper report. Queenie Patterson (formerly Trefusis). They'd assumed it was her maiden name.

  “That's right. Victoria. Pretty little thing, so I'm told. She left him for his friend. Never saw that coming. Him being the wild one. Poor Queenie. Made the wrong choice. Then she got in with the God squad … sorry Vicar.” Miss Pendragon bowed her head in Peter Mortimer's direction. “One of those American evangelical groups. Pay us fifty pounds and we'll wipe away all your sins.”

  “Religious mania...” Meredith murmured, remembering something else Turner had said.

  “Could call it that, yes. Poor Uncle. He might not have been faithful to her. Wouldn't have stabbed her in her bed.”

  “What a charming subject for the dinner table,” said Clarice, throwing down her napkin. Edith had arrived with the desert, but stood at the end of the table listening intently to the conversation.

  “Sorry, Clarice,” said Miss Pendragon. “Life sometimes nasty. Not like your warm, comfortable world. That's why I equip my girls for that.”

  “Beth believes that girls can become doctors and lawyers,” said Peter Mortimer.

  “Brain surgeons if they want to,” said Miss Pendragon.

  “Don't you?” Meredith asked Peter. But she was looking at Drew when she said it.

  “I'm afraid I'm the old-fashioned type, Meredith. I believe a woman's place is in the home.”

  “And I happen to agree,” said Clarice. “Which makes us the perfect couple. Doesn't it, darling? One day, Meredith, when you meet a man you fall in love with, you'll realise that all you want to do is make sure his dinner is on the table at seven o'clock sharp.”

  “Of course, it helps if you've got an Edith on hand,” said Drew, picking at his strawberry flan.

  “Well, yes, of course. When would I have time to make myself beautiful for Peter?” said Clarice, followed by one of her throaty laughs.

  Meredith looked at her aghast. She liked Clarice, but this little woman act was almost sickening.

  “I would hope,” said Meredith, “that the man I marry will be as supportive of my dreams as I am of his.”

  “Like mine,” said Miss Pendragon. No one at the table was adept enough at hiding their surprise, apart from Clarice who obviously knew. The idea of the masculine Miss Pendragon being married at all was a bolt out of the blue.

  “Beth's husband, Ralph Somerville teaches woodwork at the school,” said Clarice.

  “Use maiden name for career. My thing, you know what I mean.”

  Meredith knew exactly what she meant. “Where's your husband tonight?”

  “Looking after our son. He's ten. Got the measles. Try not to be a fussy mother. Boy's hate all that. Don't suppose you'd mind if I telephoned after dinner, though, Peter? Check my menfolk are alright?”

  Meredith looked at Beth Pendragon and decided she liked her very much indeed.

  “Miss Pendragon...” Meredith approached the headmistress after dinner.

  “Taking me up on that job offer?”

  Meredith was not entirely certain she'd been offered a job, but she shook her head. “I … I'd need to think about it. No, I was w
ondering. There's a boy I know. Drew knows him too. His name is Bert. He's got an O-level in woodwork and is looking for a job. I don't suppose Mr. Somerville needs an assistant?”

  “I'll ask him. Bert you say. One of the youngsters picking strawberries. Friend of the boy who was arrested. Think I've seen him around.”

  Meredith didn't doubt it. She expected Miss Pendragon to be aware of everything that was going on in Midchester.

  “I don't know if Bert will even want the job, so it might be best not to say I've mentioned it. He might not want me to interfere in his life...”