Forgotten Voices

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Even if that’s true.’

  ‘The only truth is, Ellen, that you and your children own that place now. Jeb left the place to you and to them, not to his mother. You both did your best by her and by that useless brother-in-law of yours. Now your only duty is to do the best by yourself and your children.’

  She picked up her secateurs again and snipped the stem of a spray chrysanthemum. ‘You listen to an old woman, Ellen. Get out from under her thumb. There’ve been enough members of the Tailor family put down by their womenfolk for you to be another one.’

  Ellen had cast a curious look in her direction, but Vera had chosen not to elaborate. Instead, she had carried her arrangement to its place in the side chapel and announced that she was getting the kettle on.

  ‘When Ellen got home that day,’ Diane said. ‘I happened to phone and she told me what Vera had said. I’d been saying the same thing for ever, but this time it seemed to have stuck. She said she was going to start with some of the cupboards in the spare room and what had been Daphne and her husband’s room. Ellen had hardly gone in there. Just covered everything with dust sheets and let it be and I said it was just a waste. The only time she used the guest room was when I went to stay. I don’t think Daphne’s old room ever really got used for anything except storage and as a general dumping ground.’

  ‘So,’ Mac asked. ‘Did she start to clear stuff out?’

  Diane nodded. ‘Ellen said she got a load of bags and started with the wardrobe. Daphne had left a couple of old coats there and some shoes and other bits. I swear, when you went into that room it was like she’d never really left. Like she wanted to keep an outpost in someone else’s house.’

  ‘She never thought about it as someone else’s house, though, did she?’

  Diane shook her head. ‘It was still her farm. Even though she’d only married into it. The Tailors had kept the place going for about four generations but each new generation had sold off a bit more and a bit more of the land. Ray had inherited from Daphne’s father; she told you that, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, and she said he’d run the place into the ground and then sold up.’

  Diane nodded. ‘She was mad as hell. As far as Daphne is concerned she’d lost her entire birthright and what she’d married into to strangers. I mean, I could understand what she must have felt. Ellen really felt for her, which is why she felt so bad about everything, put up with so much from her, I suppose.’

  ‘So, she started sorting through the cupboards.’

  Diane nodded again. ‘The first day it was just bits and pieces. Clothes, ornaments, all her father-in-law’s old clothes too. She put them in bags and sent the lot to charity, I think.’ Diane smiled. ‘I remember reminding her to check the pockets. She said she found a twenty-pound note in a coat of Daphne’s. I told her that was Daphne’s bad luck. She put it in the kids’ account. Somehow, if it went to the kids, then it was all OK.’

  ‘And the deposits she made later. The bigger deposits?’

  ‘It was about a couple of weeks after she’d started. There’s like a built-in cupboard in that room and it was full of junk. There was an old vacuum cleaner in there, Christmas decorations, lord knows what else. At the bottom was a whole stack of books. Old encyclopedias that she thought the kids might like to look through. So she took them out. When she had, she noticed that the floorboards were loose. Under the floorboard was a box and in the box, wrapped up in a cloth, there were all the coins. All the time they’d struggled and penny-pinched, especially when Jeb was so ill and all the time—’

  ‘All the time she’d had a fortune hiding in the wardrobe.’

  ‘Yeah. All that time.’

  ‘She told you about them?’

  ‘Not at first. She said she felt so guilty. It was obvious Daphne had no idea. She said she told Daphne that she’d found a few old coins and let the kids have them, was that all right? Daphne was sniffy, said her husband had collected a few when he was a child and she didn’t care one way or another. The kids must have told her that Ellen was having a clear-out because she was furious about it. Ellen told her she’d bagged everything up and put it in the barn and Daphne was welcome to come and get it. She never did and like I said, I think Ellen gave anything she could to charity.’

  ‘And Daphne continued to see the children?’

  Diane nodded. ‘We’d had no family so Ellen didn’t think she could say no. She thought she ought to keep the peace for the sake of the children. But we decided, after her husband was diagnosed, that there was no way Daphne was going to get them if anything happened to Ellen. Not that we ever thought it would. The will was just a precaution, you know?’

  Mac nodded. ‘And the reality is hard, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is. I’m not ready for kids. I’m about the most unprepared person you can imagine, but I guess we’ll make it through one way or another. Not much choice, is there?’

  ‘And the coins?’

  ‘Ellen had done her homework. She figured she could sell the sovereigns without too much trouble. At bullion prices, they made a good amount and she spread herself around. A couple here, a couple there, but it was a slow process. The more specialist stuff, well that was more complicated. It meant finding dealers who’d know what the coins were and give her a good price. I wanted her to just get shot of the lot in one go. I knew she might not get quite as much money that way, but it would still be a lot more than either of us would ever see in our lifetime short of robbing a bank. She was scared stiff of being found out but I was pretty sure that Daphne would get wind of things sooner or later and I was right.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Little Megan. She noticed that her mum was researching coins and their values and looking at gold prices. Ellen wasn’t very savvy when it came to covering her tracks but both the kids are really computer literate. Megan must have mentioned something, and Daphne remembered what Ellen had said about finding a few old coins and put two and two together. She was furious. Came to the farm one day and demanded Ellen hand over what she’d found. Ellen said that anything in the farmhouse now belonged to the children. Daphne threatened police and lawyers and trouble. Ellen called me. Really worried. That was about a month before she died. Before she was killed.’

  ‘So where does Philip Soames come into the picture?’

  Diane sighed. She got up and filled the kettle, rinsed their mugs at the sink. ‘Philip Soames,’ she said. ‘Right. That was one hell of a stupid idea, wasn’t it?’

  ‘What did you do, Diane? Was it you who sent him that card?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I persuaded Ellen to do that. She really didn’t want to but … Look, I hated the man. Still do. I saw what he tried to do to my sister and then … then I suppose I threw her back into his path again, didn’t I?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Because I’d been keeping tabs on him ever since he went to prison the first time. I was scared that he’d go looking for her.’

  ‘All this time, you’ve kept track of him?’

  ‘Yeah. You see, whatever you may think, Inspector, I actually loved my sister very much. I didn’t want to see her hurt again. There was this young PC, not much older than us and well, we saw one another for a bit and we stayed friends and he helped me at first, then I hired a private detective when Soames came out of jail the first time. Then again when he came out this last time. In between, well you could say that the stalker got himself a stalker of his own.’

  ‘That takes a certain single-mindedness.’

  ‘Wasn’t that hard. We’d got to know him because we had mutual acquaintances. They kept an eye open for me, told me what he was up to. He was in and out of jail like a bloody yo-yo anyway.’

  ‘And when he came out this time?’

  ‘Seemed like a lucky break when he got a job down south. So I made use of it.’

  ‘And did you have anything to do with that?’

  Diane frowned but did not reply directly. Instead she said, ‘We needed someone to fence the c
oins for us. We needed to act fast, before Daphne could interfere. I was banking on the idea that Phil would listen to Ellen. She wanted no part of it, but I managed to persuade her, just to talk. What I didn’t bank on was Soames telling us to fuck off.’

  ‘I can see that would have been a shock. Did he say why?’

  ‘Seems he really did want to go straight this time. He’d had enough. Marsden offered him a job, he’d got a place to stay and he’d come to view Ellen as trouble. Me, even more trouble.’

  ‘But he went to see her.’

  ‘Ellen said he just wanted to check things out. He’d convinced himself we were trying to set him up. That we’d found out where he was and were still out for revenge.’ She laughed harshly. ‘The stupid thing was, he was now as anxious about us as Ellen had been about him. Ellen said he begged her just to leave him alone and she told him she would. She called and told me, just after he’d left, that we’d carry on doing things her way, Daphne or no Daphne, but we’d just try and speed up the sales. I said to send some of the coins up to me and I’d see what I could do in York and Leeds. Manchester, maybe. More jewellers in a big city, easier to get lost in the noise and not be noticed.’

  ‘And is that what you did?’

  ‘That’s what I’d started to do. I’d got two grand stashed away waiting to go into the account. Now it’ll go towards getting somewhere big enough for the kids.’

  ‘And you still have some of the coins. Diane, don’t lie to me. I’m not interested in taking them away from you. Just in catching who killed your sister.’

  She nodded. ‘Everything in that house belonged to Ellen. Now it belongs to the children. I’ve got to have money to look after them until the sale of the farm goes through.’

  ‘You are determined to sell then?’

  Diane shook her head. ‘Not up to me, is it? Look, I don’t know what will happen yet, Daphne’s determined to challenge everything and it could drag on forever. It’s all such a bloody mess.’

  ‘You managed to keep your job?’

  ‘Yeah. I have a good boss. Actually, I hope he’s a bit more than a boss, if you know what I mean.’

  Mac smiled at her. ‘And how does he feel about a ready-made family?’

  ‘Oh, he’s got to get used to the idea, I guess. I’m hoping he will, but frankly that’s the least of my worries right now. You still have no idea, do you? Who killed Ellen?’

  Mac shook his head. He watched as she suddenly remembered she had promised more coffee and bustled with the kettle. ‘It was one sugar, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Thank you, yes.’ He took the mug from her. ‘I think Philip Soames is probably out of the frame. What about the family? Daphne? Ray?’

  Diane grimaced. ‘Look, I can’t stand Daphne. She’s a spiteful cow, but to take a shotgun and walk up to the window and shoot someone. Actually look in their eye and shoot them and that’s what the killer must have done with Ellen. No, I don’t see Daphne doing that and certainly not Ray.’

  ‘No? He must have been resentful?’

  ‘Ray?’ Diane laughed. ‘No, I’m not sure he was. I think he was just relieved, you know. He took the money and ran – and I expect the money did too. He never could keep it for long, you know.’

  ‘Strange that he came back when he did?’

  ‘No, not really. Daphne sent the summons and he came running, I suppose.’

  ‘And why did she want him to come back? Diane, the night Ellen ran to the Richardses’ house, do you think she was genuinely frightened?’

  ‘What sort of question is that?’

  ‘One that has to be asked. If she’d pretended to be upset, to be persecuted, put the blame on Daphne, it would have made things look bad—’

  ‘If it ever came to court. Hmm, I see what you mean. But no. She was scared that night and I do think Daphne was behind that. I’ve thought so from the start. Ellen was alone in the house, Daphne knew that. What better opportunity to get in herself and try to find the rest of the coins?’

  ‘Are they still at the house?’

  Diane gestured that she didn’t know. ‘Ellen didn’t say they had gone. But she didn’t tell me what she’d done with them either. I can’t believe she’d have left them where Daphne could get at them, but she might not have had the chance to do anything else and obviously, I’ve had no chance to go back to the farm.’

  Mac shook his head. ‘There was nothing there. It would have been found.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. So Ellen must have moved the box. That would make sense. But where?’

  Mac got up and took his coat from the back of the chair. ‘I’ll be off,’ he said. ‘If you think of anything else?’

  ‘I have your card.’

  ‘Just one small question,’ Mac said as he was standing at the top of the stairs. ‘Ellen had an old pair of trainers. No laces. I’m told she kept them in the porch and used them in the garden. Is it likely she’d have had them upstairs with her for any reason?’

  Diane’s look was quizzical. ‘That’s a strange sort of question?’

  ‘I know. It’s just a loose end. They nag.’

  Diane frowned and thought about it. ‘I know she’d been clearing out the attic space,’ she said. ‘She said there was no proper floor or anything. Jeb wanted very badly to go up there. Ellen wouldn’t let him. She said it was all rough joists and big nails, so I imagine she’d have wanted something on her feet. I suppose the old trainers would have been an obvious choice.’ She shrugged. ‘Sorry, I really wouldn’t know.’

  Mac thanked her, and left.

  Glancing back, he saw her waving from the kitchen window. Sitting in his car he called Miriam and told her not to wait up. He’d stop on the way and get something to eat, but expected to be late home.

  Back in the flat, Diane watched as the car pulled away. She stood beside the window until she was certain he had gone and then turned back to face Jeb and Megan. Jeb stood in the doorway, a look of suppressed excitement on his face. He held his games console.

  ‘You’ll need a screwdriver,’ Megan said solemnly as he set it down on the table.

  ‘Second drawer along. There’s a Pozidriv.’

  Diane almost held her breath as she undid the screws and removed the case. A small, cloth bag had been secured to the inside of the case with strips of tape. It chinked gently as Diane pulled it free. She emptied the contents on to the table and felt the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

  ‘Is it all right?’ Jeb asked.

  Diane nodded. ‘Thank you Ellen,’ she whispered softly. ‘We’re going to be OK, now,’ she told Jeb and Megan. ‘It’s all going to be all right.’

  THIRTY-TWO

  1943. Vera closed her eyes and imagined. She had read her father’s journals enough times to understand what they said, so that she could place herself where he had stood and imagine what he had seen.

  He stood on the ridge overlooking the farm. Smoke rose from the kitchen chimney and he could see the women moving about in the kitchen, drifting in and out of his field of view as they came to the sink or reached for plates from the rack. He could imagine the scene in the kitchen, table being set for the evening meal, the scent of food – rabbit stew, probably, if it was Nora’s turn to cook, and she’d probably have managed to rustle up a few dumplings as well. Nora could make a feast out of nothing and that was a skill of even more value now than it had ever been.

  He sat down with his back against the old beech tree whose branches hung low, almost brushing the ground. He’d climbed this tree as a child, hidden out beneath its branches when his mother was mad at him or when he just wanted to get away from everyone and read a book. His grandfather tolerated bookishness but his mother was all for practical skills. A favourite question was: ‘And what good will that do you? How will that help you out in the world?’

  He was starting to think it might be a better question than she knew.

  He wondered if they had heard that he was back. He doubted it. Most of the time he was based no
t ten miles from the farm but moving in such different circles and so confined by duties and commitments that he rarely even glimpsed his old life.

  He could have gone down now, though. Could have visited and sat down at the scrubbed table and eaten a great plateful of Nora’s cooking and the thought was, briefly, an inviting one.

  Fleeting.

  He knew in his heart that he had moved so far beyond them, so far in some other direction that he no longer belonged, either at their table or in their hearts. Not even in Nora’s. He thought of his parents, settled still in the little house back down the track from here. His grandfather was long gone and he was glad of that. The old man would have understood and right now, Bob could not bear to have anyone understand. That would mean that someone else had faced the hell he was going through and he found he could not bear the idea of that. Especially not of someone he knew and loved.

  Bad enough to be sharing his fate with strangers though he had decided that he could not even countenance that any longer.

  Slowly, Robert got to his feet and started his slow walk back.

  THIRTY-THREE

  October

  It had been a gloriously sunny day. Rina had wandered happily among the stalls in the large marquees and between the thronging re-enactors, escorted by Tim, looking very dapper in a pinstriped suit and Joy and Miriam, both sporting their hair in extravagant victory rolls.

  It was, she thought, excellent to see the old airfield brought back to life again and the owners, Lydia and Edward de Freitas had been very wise to stage the opening a couple of weeks before Armistice Day. A full service and concert had been organized for the weekend before November the eleventh. Frantham had, for a full month now been the focus for plays and music and art events, culminating in a weekend of activities at the refurbished aerodrome, including a fly-past by local enthusiasts and a half-dozen tanks, brought in on low-loaders and now excitedly used as climbing frames by the local kids. There were many locals among the crowd, but Rina was delighted to note the number of tourists and outsiders who had been drawn to the weekend and she’d had people knocking at her door, asking if she had any vacancies, Peverill Lodge still being, ostensibly a guest house, albeit with guests that had no desire to leave. It was a good sign; the extra trade at what would have been the end of the tourist season would be extremely welcome, Rina thought, after the past few recession-hit years. She could almost hear the community breathing a collective sigh of relief and any misgivings they may have had – incomers taking over the airfield and opening a computer games business, of all things! – had largely evaporated in the unexpected autumn sun which blessed the weekend. The de Freitases, it had been collectively decided, were doing all right. Not local yet of course, but they had made a promising start.