The Bockhampton Road Murders

by Pat Herbert

  “Yes, you must, dear,” he said. “But I’ll make up that powder for you, anyway. I’ll leave it here by the bed so if you need it you will not have to go far for it.”

  “Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. Why couldn’t he go and leave her alone?

  “Come on Daddy,” cried their little daughters, entering the master bedroom. They were jumping up and down in eager anticipation. “Are we going soon?”

  “So you have already told them?” She looked at him askance.

  “I did mention it. I thought you would be happy to come. I got Martha to make us up a picnic. I thought we’d make a day of it.”

  “Well, I hope you enjoy it,” she said. “Please, Jemima,” she said to her eldest child. “Stop pulling at my dress. I have a headache. Papa will take you to the zoo.”

  Ignoring both little girls’ protests, she turned back to the mirror and continued to brush her hair.

  “It’s a pity it’s Martha’s day off,” said Herbert, shooing the girls out of the room. “I’ll ask her to change her day so that she can stay and look after you.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” She was more vehement than she needed to be, she realised. “I mean, I don’t think it’s fair to make her change her day. She probably has plans.” She spoke more calmly now, but she could see her husband was taken aback by her outburst. She didn’t blame him, because she had never bothered about how Martha was feeling before. Martha was there to do her bidding, and that was all. Any private life she might or might not have had was of no concern to Edith Lomax.

  “Very well, dear. Whatever you say.”

  To her relief, he finally set off with the girls jumping and skipping around his heels. She could hear him protest as he unlatched the front gate. She watched from the bedroom window as she heard him say: “Do be careful, children. You’ll make me drop the hamper.”

  She turned to the bedside table and saw the powder lying there. She picked it up and took it downstairs to the kitchen, dropping the contents of the paper packet down the sink and flushing it away. She smiled to herself as she turned off the tap. Headache? What headache?

  She was almost ready to go out. She was to meet Abraham in the park as usual and bring him back to the house. Martha would be out by then and, luckily, her husband and children had already gone. When she had made the arrangement, she had expected Herbert would be on his rounds as usual. His announcement he was taking the day off had been a shock but, as it turned out, had proved more conducive to her purpose. A day at the zoo would serve very well to keep him out of the house, and the children too. That was the one thing she had been worried about. With Martha on her day off, the children would have been on her hands. She would have made them stay in the nursery, of course, but this was much better. Much, much better.

  4

  “I have never felt like this about any woman before. I love you, Edith Lomax, more than life itself,” whispered Abraham Smollett.

  He was holding her hand surreptitiously under the table as they sat in their favourite teashop, enjoying a buttered muffin and a pot of Earl Grey. The sun shone through the glass, warming them through.

  “Please, Abraham,” she protested, rather weakly. It was really much too hot to bother. “We can be seen, and I’m a married woman. Or had you forgotten?” She withdrew her hand.

  “But you do love me, don’t you?” he persisted.

  “I’m not free to love you,” she hissed at him. He was becoming tiresome now. “We are loving friends. Let us just remain so.” She tried not to think what she had promised him at their last tryst as she stirred some honey into her fast-cooling tea. She looked around her. No one seemed concerned with them, to her relief. Although it wasn’t very flattering as, in her opinion, there was no one more interesting than herself. Certainly not in this silly little teashop, anyway.

  “That is not what you said at our last rendezvous,” he pointed out. His manner was guarded now. He had lowered his voice, and she felt suddenly frightened. The promise had been made; it could not be broken.

  “What do you mean?” She started to fan herself vigorously. It was suddenly very hot in the little tea shop. A waitress came over to her.

  “Are you all right, madam? Can I get you a glass of water?” she asked solicitously.

  “I’m feeling a little hot, that is all. But some water would be welcome,” said Edith, relieved at the interruption. It gave her time to think. She was beginning to realise she knew nothing about the man who was sitting opposite her. She had confided her innermost feelings to him, but he had not responded in kind. He was probably just as married as she was. She swallowed the water the kind waitress had brought in a single draught.

  “I think it is time we were going, don’t you.” It wasn’t said with a question mark, even though he was smiling his most ingratiating smile.

  “Go?” she enquired. “Go where?”

  She couldn’t go through with it, no matter what she had promised. It was the time to run away. If she broke off from him now, all would be well. She could go back to her stultifying life with her dull doctor husband and irritating daughters. Nobody would be any the wiser. But she knew she didn’t want that. She craved excitement above all else. If she turned her back on him now, she would never see him again, and that thought terrified her.

  “You know very well, dear. Please let’s stop this play acting. I believe you live not far from here. We may as well go there as stop here. I have no more money for tea.”

  The menace in his eyes was unmistakable. Why was she unable to break away from him?

  “But what about my husband?” she asked. “I have two children.”

  “So, you are saying you value your reputation above our love?” He seemed milder, kinder this time, but there was steel in his usually inexpressive grey eyes. If she broke her promise to him, what form would his revenge take? She was sure he would exact some penalty if she had the temerity to walk away. But she couldn’t walk away, and she didn’t want to. Danger was better than boredom. At least Abraham made her feel alive.

  “It is easy for you. You have nothing to lose. It is harder for a woman, especially a married woman. You must give me time to think.”

  Abraham tried to reach for her hand again. But she rebuffed him. “Please, don’t,” she said.

  “The time for prevaricating is past, Edith dear. You told me your husband has taken your daughters to the zoo for the day and your maid is out, too. We can be alone together where no prying eyes can see us. What could be better?”

  Edith began fanning herself again. “We cannot be seen going back together, Abraham.”

  “But why not? I am your brother after all,” he smiled.

  She had to admit that he was right. If he was supposed to be her brother, there could be no harm in him coming back with her. But there were her nosy neighbours to consider. All they would see was a young man entering the house with her. She couldn’t risk that.

  “I know. But it would be less of a complication if my neighbours didn’t see you.”

  “Very well,” he said. “Whatever you say.” She could tell he was impatient to go, but she delayed him by pretending she had lost a glove. It was soon recovered by Abraham who had noticed her deliberately dropping it on the floor in the first place.

  She had no excuses left. He took her arm and led her gently out of the tea shop.

  

  The waitress who had brought Edith the water turned to her companion. “I think there’ll be tears before bedtime with them two. I bet they’re not married. Well, not to each other, anyway.”

  Her companion giggled. “They’ve been coming here for nearly two months, you know, Gert. I always thought they looked like they were secret lovers. But for all we know, ’e could be ’er brother.”

  “Go on! Pull the other one. You know that’s Dr Lomax’s wife, don’t you? ’E’s your doctor ain’t ’e, Rube?”

  “Well, ’e’s my mum’s actually. I ain’t never ’ad cause to consult ’im mysel
f. ’E seems very nice, though. I don’t like ’is wife much, though. A bit hoity-toity, if you ask me.”

  “Hmm, I know what you mean, but if she’s being unfaithful, you can’t really blame ’er, can you? I mean, wouldn’t you like to ’ave someone like ’im? ’E’s obviously well-off and you ’ave to admit ’e’s ever so good looking.”

  “Yeah, well, ’andsome is as ’andsome does.”

  The waitress called Gert, who had never understood the meaning of that proverb, grinned at her. “Come on, Rube,” she said. “Who are you kidding? Wouldn’t you just swoon if ’e so much as winked at you?”

  “Ruby, Gertrude,” snapped a voice behind them. The tea shop manageress loomed from behind the counter. “Stop chattering and clear the tables. At once!”

  5

  Edith turned to watch Abraham as he sauntered slowly some way behind her, as she had asked him to. She had reached her garden gate and was looking nervously around for any prying eyes.

  “I think you’d better go round the back,” she said, darting glances up and down the street.

  “Very well,” he said, seemingly bored with the whole charade. “How do I approach from the back?”

  Edith directed him to the corner of the street, instructing him to turn left and double-back down the parallel alley until he reached the back of her house. She would then let him in through the scullery door. She could see he didn’t like the idea of this mode of entry, obviously unused to being treated as if he were a mere tradesman. He seemed about to protest, but fell in with her plan, if somewhat reluctantly.

  “I will see you shortly,” he said. “I will make sure no one sees me. Your reputation is safe with me.”

  Edith’s hands shook as she unlocked the front door. She rested her back against it once inside and tried to focus her thoughts. For all her wish for adventures, she was strapped inside the corsetry of an England that frowned on adulterous affairs. She hadn’t cheated on her husband so far, but now it looked as if she was set on the path that led poor Madame Bovary, in the racy novel she had just finished, to her destruction. If all went wrong for her, Edith made herself a vow. She wouldn’t be taking arsenic to remedy the situation, not like poor Emma in the tragic Flaubert tale.

  She made her way through the scullery to the back door, but just as she was about to open it, the front door bell rang. It was the sound of her salvation, even though she was unaware of it. Abraham was tapping gently on the scullery window, but she couldn’t let him in now. She avoided looking into his eyes as she turned to answer the door. It was just as well because she would have seen something akin to hatred there.

  She opened the front door slowly and peeked around it. It was her neighbour, Elsie Proudfoot, the nosiest woman in the street and the bane of her husband’s life. She never let a week go by without consulting him about her back or her arthritis or her wretched bunions. And, if it wasn’t her, it was one of her ever-burgeoning brood (all boys) who had gone down with some lurgy or other. She was a perfect nuisance, all round. However, today, Edith wasn’t so annoyed at seeing her on the doorstep.

  “Hello, love,” said Elsie cheerily, wiping her hands on her apron. “I just thought you ought to know there’s a strange man lurking in your back garden. ’Andsome devil, mind you. Wouldn’t mind ’aving ’im lurking in my garden. Still, ’e looks a bit suspicious to me. D’you know who ’e is?”

  “No, I do not,” said Edith, giving her an imperious look. “My husband is not at home, so I am all alone at the moment. I will make sure I keep my door locked.”

  “You do, ducks. I wouldn’t like nothing to ’appen to you. I’m sure the doc wouldn’t neither, not to mention your two darling girls.”

  “I will be very careful, thank you, Mrs Proudfoot.”

  She tried to close the door, but her neighbour remained where she was. “Would you like to come next door for a nice cup of tea, love?”

  “It’s very kind of you, but I really must get on. I have a lot to do and my husband and children will be home soon.”

  “Why don’t you leave it to your Martha? Don’t she usually prepare the supper?”

  “Not today, it’s her day off.”

  “Oh, of course. I forgot. She was only telling me the other day she was planning to visit ’er sister in Bognor. Well she’s got nice weather for it, I must say.”

  “Indeed. Now, please Mrs Proudfoot. I must get on.” Edith made another attempt to close the door.

  “All right, dear. I’ll love you and leave you. Make sure that man isn’t still lurking.”

  “I will. Thank you again. Goodbye.”

  Edith closed the door and rushed through to the scullery. She peeped through the window just in time to see Abraham’s retreating back. She was about to shout after him, but realised this would draw attention, and she was sure Mrs Proudfoot would still be on the lookout.

  It seemed her afternoon with Abraham was not to be, after all. Divine providence in the shape of the roly poly Mrs Proudfoot, had intervened at the last moment. Maybe, she thought, someone was trying to tell her something.

  

  Edith walked up and down the living room, her mind a cauldron of conflicting emotions. Abraham Smollett had got under her skin and, although she didn’t trust him or even like him now, she still wanted what she could get from him: a thrill. But she knew she was heading for disaster. The danger had been averted this time, but surely there would be a next time, if she wanted a next time. And that was what bothered her. She wasn’t sure, anymore, what she wanted.

  Questions raged in her head as she continued to pace the floor. Who was this man? What did he do with himself all day? Was he married? Did he have a family? Her thoughts were interrupted by her returning husband and daughters.

  “We’ve had such a lovely time, Mama,” said Georgina, her blonde ringlets bouncing up and down as she ran into the room. “We saw lions and tigers and heffalumps and monkeys and....”

  “That’s nice, dear,” she said, brushing her daughter’s hair lightly with her fingers. She wished she could feel the sort of affection for her that most mothers, so she was told, felt for their offspring. But all she could feel was a mild pity. “Now off you go and play, both of you. Supper will be ready soon.”

  “Yes, Mama,” said Jemima and Georgina in unison. They were wise enough not presume on their mother’s goodwill for too long. So, still excited by their trip to see the lions and tigers, they raced up the stairs, arguing who was going on the rocking horse first.

  Edith felt her husband’s eyes boring into her now that the children were out of the way. She felt herself flush as she tried to avoid looking at him.

  “Edith, my dear, you appear somewhat distrait. Are you still feeling unwell? How is your headache? Let me make you another powder.”

  “I’m fine, Herbert, please don’t fuss so.” She waved his hand from her brow.

  “But you still seem a little feverish. I do think you should let me prescribe something for you.”

  “Please.... I am feeling perfectly well. How was your day? I’m glad the girls enjoyed themselves.”

  Herbert strode over to the fireplace and took his favourite pipe from the rack on the mantelpiece. As he sucked it into life, he continued to study his wife with concern.

  “Yes, we all had a lovely time. But we would have preferred it if you had been with us.”

  “Herbert, dear, you know the girls prefer your company to mine. I’m sure they had a much better time without me.”

  “How can you say that, Edith? You’re their mother!”

  “You know it is so. I don’t seem to be able to inspire any affection in them. They even prefer Martha to me.”

  “Maybe if you spent more time with them,” said Herbert, a look of reproach in his eyes, “they shouldn’t prefer Martha. That worries me.”

  “It can’t be helped,” she said with a shrug. It was as if they were discussing a broken vase, not the misplaced affections of their children.

  Herbert sighed and cha
nged the subject. “Is Martha home yet?”

  “No. She was due to catch the four o’clock train from Bognor Regis so she should be here soon,” Edith informed him. “But I will start the supper.”

  “Are you sure, dear? I thought you might not be feeling up to it tonight.”

  “I’m feeling perfectly all right. I had a little headache, but now it has gone.” It had never been there in the first place, she thought with irony, although it was there now.

  “Very well, dear. You know best.”

  Having won that little battle, she turned and left the room. He drove her mad sometimes, always fussing over her. She wandered into the scullery and stared at the gas stove, but she couldn’t concentrate on cooking now. To even thinking of peeling a potato made her head throb. She decided to wait for Martha’s return, after all.

  6

  Dr Lomax lingered over breakfast reading his newspaper, much to Edith’s annoyance. She was anxious for him to depart on his rounds as she had made another assignation with Abraham. After much debate with herself, she had decided to meet him once more. As long as they were in a public place, all would be well. Mrs Proudfoot had seen him and that had been too close for comfort. Edith would not be inviting him back to her home again. However, she was still anxious to see him, human nature being what it was. She had to ensure that Abraham was still as smitten with her as ever, even though he had been thwarted the last time.

  “Shouldn’t you be going, Herbert? The time is getting on, you know.”

  “In a minute, Edith. Just let me finish this article, it’s very interesting.”

  Martha came into the parlour to clear away the breakfast things. Good, she thought. This was usually the signal for her husband to move himself. But he obstinately remained seated, reading intently.

  “What is it that has caught your attention so, Herbert?” she asked him, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.