From the window he saw Damaris walk up the drive. He waited to hear her enter the house, but instead she turned right and walked around the path. He could hear her steps crunching. He looked at the clock. He had time to talk to her, if he did so immediately. Slipping his coat over his shirtsleeves, he walked quickly down and through the side passage, stopping in the kitchen to see if she was there.
“Miss Damaris?” replied Ada to his question. “No, she nipped in to get some stale bread. She’ll be in the garden feeding the birds if you want her.”
Thanking her, he wandered outside and pushed open the gate, latching it carefully behind him. Damaris was sitting on the bench near the fountain, watching the antics of a couple of doves who were chasing each other for the crumbs she threw them. She looked up at him as he approached.
“May I join you?” he asked.
“Of course, Mr Carr,” she answered with a sweet smile that lit up her face.
When she smiled, she had an attraction all her own, based mainly on the magnificent eyes that dominated her face. Like her brother, they were a dark treacle brown, fringed with thick lashes, and she could put more expression in them than many girls could manage with an entire face. And yet Alistair was unsure of his ability to read her. Her eyes could talk volumes, and she could also veil them, shutting out ingress.
“Come to do more sniffing out?” she asked, her smile gently mocking.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered, sitting down beside her. “Part and parcel of investigation.”
“Please ask away. I find it all terribly interesting.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “You were here when Mrs Creed disappeared. You and your brother and Mrs Evans.”
“Yes. I had a week’s holiday planned, my first since I started at the hospital, and Julie went out of her way to make sure I had a good rest.”
He had wondered before about why she had chosen to work as a nurse. It was a noble calling, he had no doubt of that, but the work was hard and distinctly unglamorous. It was not the work he imagined Damaris had been brought up to.
“When did you leave Sancreed to become a nurse?” he asked.
“About six months after Juliana came here,” she said. “Jamie was gone and life at Hendra was unbearable without him. Mother was incensed at Adrien marrying Juliana; she never shut up about it. I don’t know why. I could have told her it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to marry Belinda.”
“Could you?” he asked.
“It was obvious,” she said with some asperity. She unbent a little and managed a smile. “Actually, I think I was the only one who knew it. Everyone else, including Adrien at one point, seemed to think that it would be a good idea.”
He nodded. “Were you in love with him yourself?” he probed, wondering if that was a question too far.
Damaris just laughed at this. It was an appealing sound, and her eyes sparkled.
“You mean, was I jealous? No,” she replied, and then her mouth quirked, as though she had suddenly remembered something. Alistair thought back to his talk with her mother.
“How about Helena Clevedon?”
She looked surprised. “How did you…? Oh, you’ve been talking to Mother, haven’t you? Of course she would say something. She thought it hilarious and made sure everyone else knew. Sylvia was furious over it. Poor Helena. She really did adore him, and she was mortified that everyone seemed to know about it.”
“But you were not of the same opinion?”
“No, I was not. Adrien is a good man, and I’ve always liked him. I simply didn’t think Belinda would be enough for him. She’s dull as dishwater once you get past the lovely face. She’d have bored Adrien to sobs within a year. Even Helena would have been a better match. She’s not dull at all, although her constant organising would have driven him mad!”
He smiled at this pragmatism. “What did you think of Juliana? It must have been a bolt from the blue.”
Damaris nodded. “It was a surprise, certainly, but I liked her. She was kind, and funny, and I enjoyed the time I spent with her. And before you ask, so did Helena. She was upset initially, but we all settled down nicely after they came home. But I couldn’t take any more living at home, so I packed my bags.”
“And you became a nurse?”
Damaris nodded again, shrugging. There was a cool look in her eyes as she spoke now.
“There were very few avenues open to me. I had next to no money, and Jamie wasn’t much better. I needed to be independent. Nursing gave me that.”
She stretched out her arms, linking her fingers and pressing her palms out. Having stretched out sufficiently to crack several knuckles, she linked her hands behind her head, sighing.
“I’d had some experience, during the War. An old family friend started a convalescent home, turned most of her own house into a hospital for officers. I used to go in to read to them, or write letters for them.”
She paused here, her brow furrowed. “It wasn’t much, but I did it, for two years,” she said. “There was a non-stop stream of them, but with Jamie overseas, at least I felt that was doing something positive!”
Damaris looked over at him. Her eyes were troubled. There was a peculiar light to them, the same kind he had known of old, when discussing those awful years and the death and injury that had gone alongside.
“I got more experience towards the end of the War,” she said quietly. “A couple of times there were emergencies, and I had to help out when they were short of nurses. Then Jamie and Simon came home. And I had to toughen up, quickly.”
Alistair looked at her closely. There was a tremor in her voice that gave away her emotion; her face showed nothing. She was a sphinx again.
“Jamie and Simon came home at the same time?” he asked, thinking.
There he was again. Simon Cundy. Why was it that his name kept appearing? Alistair was curious to meet the man, but forced himself to concentrate on what Damaris was saying.
“Returned practically on the same train,” she replied. “Rather fitting, seeing as they left on the same one. But Jamie was the one I looked after. Simon was officially in the charge of Uncle Bob. He was in a dreadful state. I thought he might do something terrible at one point, he was so violent and angry, but I couldn’t do much to help him. I had enough to do at home. Jamie needed someone with him, all the time, and he didn’t want to be in hospital. I remember him begging to be able to stay at home. He had some awful stomach problems that lasted for months, and his nightmares… well, he needed nursing, and I was worried Mother would simply pack him off to the cheapest hospital she could find.”
For a moment her dislike of her mother’s behaviour was written so clearly on her face that Alistair was horrified. He had realised that Damaris had no time for Fancy, but here was evidence that she was well on the way to hating her.
“She hadn’t liked him joining up. And she certainly didn’t like what came home. She didn’t want to be woken up at night by him screaming. Wouldn’t think of cleaning out his pot, or changing his bedlinens. Or simply holding him after he’d cried himself sick. She had no time for a son sliding towards a complete nervous collapse. She thought he was a coward!”
Her lip curled, and her round eyes were cold and dark at the thought of her mother’s rejection of Jamie.
“You had to step up,” Alistair said.
“I wanted to!” she said fiercely. “Jamie’s the other half of me. You couldn’t have dragged me away from him. That is what love is. Being there when you are needed, even if it is unpleasant!”
He changed the subject. “Simon saved Jamie’s life, I’ve been told?”
“And vice versa. Simon’s effort was a good deal more theatrical,” she said with a tired smile, “but he always says that if Jamie hadn’t saved him first, then neither of them would have come home.”
William had said something of the kind the other day. Jamie had admitted it earlier. An added bond between the two, enduring through the horror and still holding true now.
<
br /> “So when you decided to leave home, it was natural that you should take up nursing.”
She nodded. “I was of age by then, so Mother couldn’t do anything. I know it’s not what people expected of me, but it’s not a bad life, all in all. Meals all provided, a room of my own, enough to get by.”
“You could have given it up, with the legacy from Mrs Creed. Tell me, did you know that she had written you into her will? Before the accident?”
Damaris looked at him and her eyes narrowed. “No, I didn’t. Why? Do you think I pushed her?” she asked caustically.
“It is an important question, given what happened, Damaris. I asked Jamie too.”
Damaris looked thoughtful.
“I didn’t know,” she said finally. “It never crossed my mind. And I think that if Jamie had known, he’d have told me. He tells me everything. It was a complete surprise to me.”
“A nice one?”
She looked hard at him. “Mmm. It was useful, anyway. If you’ve been talking to Jamie, then you know he used his to get Simon into that hospital in Scotland.”
Alistair nodded.
“He paid for that himself, although I’d have helped if he had asked. To be honest, I never touched mine,” she said. “It’s still in my savings account. Every penny.”
“Really? You didn’t want to use it? Did you never think of doing something else other than nursing?”
Damaris looked back at him, a smile hovering on her mouth. She didn’t reply immediately.
“You didn’t need to work as a nurse then,” he pressed. “It’s a tough job.”
“I didn’t want to give it up,” she said finally. “Even scrubbing floors and cleaning bedpans, I found that I enjoyed it. Do you know, the day I got my belt was the proudest of my life. I got a post on Women’s Surgical, and I have no plans to leave. At least…”
Alistair waited. He knew that Damaris wanted to talk, and that given space, she would do so. She didn’t continue with what she had been saying, though, and took off on another track.
“I always thought that I would marry. Settle down and have lots of children. Make the kind of home we never had. And then came the bloody war.”
She stopped here and looked up at the sky. Alistair could see the wet in her eyes and stayed silent. Damaris would not thank him for interfering. After blinking hard several times, she looked back down at her hands, rubbing the reddened knuckles thoughtfully.
“I was engaged, once. Mother didn’t know, but I loved him. And then he died before his next leave, when we were going to get married.”
She looked sad, but she was not crying now.
“Once the War was over, I realised that my dreams were going to remain just that. So many men didn’t come back. So many women left without the future they had been promised. Surplus to requirements, like a pile of boots that had been ordered in the wrong sizes. Nursing was not just a way to get out from under my mother, it was a way to make a future for myself. It kept me sane. So, Juliana’s money or not, I needed my work. I still need it.”
They contemplated the birds, who had finished all the bread, but still hoped for more. Eventually she turned her head.
“You are rather good at this, aren’t you?” she said with surprise. “I would not have put you down as someone who could winkle out information with such ease.”
“Winkle? I don’t think I do that!” he said with a grin.
“You are very easy to talk to. Perhaps no winkling is required,” she replied, smiling back, her eyes clear again. “Perhaps everyone just feels the need to talk to you. I can’t remember the last time I thought about Theo, let alone talked about him. I try not to, usually.”
“I am sorry if I brought up sad memories,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head. The sunlight on her hair made it gleam a rich brown. Her hands lay at peace in her lap. “It felt rather good to get it all out to air. Mother would have a fit.”
Alistair realised that her wounds from the War had been dealt with much like her brother’s. Swept under a carpet and ignored by the one person that ought to have cared.
“I imagine there will be a lot more of this to come,” he apologised. “I really need to know what everyone remembers about the day that Juliana vanished. You were all here, you see.”
“We were, although Jamie left in a huff late afternoon, and Mother took to her bed straight after, so I was on my own. I’d been in to town earlier to meet a friend, but when I got home the atmosphere was rough.”
“Did you see anyone else around that day? Later on, perhaps. Any strangers?”
“No,” she replied. “Just the family. I didn’t find out Juliana was gone until the next morning. I still blame myself for that. I should have gone through to check on her. I knew she was upset.”
“She and Adrien were not happy together, I am told.”
“They were arguing a lot. For some reason, they couldn’t work it out. That day they had a fearful row, just after Jamie left. I avoided them after that. I didn’t want to have to take sides.”
She gazed at him. She looked sad and uncomfortable, her mouth pursed like an unhappy child.
“This is all very real now, isn’t it?” she asked.
Like Juliana, she understood that the investigation was going to probe into unhealed places and cause hurt along its path, not only for the guilty.
“I have to find out what really happened.”
His voice was gentle, but she heard the purpose in it. She turned and looked straight at him.
“And if you don’t?” she asked. “What if we never do find out?”
“That would not be good, Miss Evans. Living with that kind of uncertainty is corrosive. It will taint everyone, every relationship. I’ve seen it happen before. Uncertainty is like acid. It eats away at all that is fine and positive.”
Chapter 19
Back in his room, Alistair was confused. Of all the people in the house who might have provoked someone into pushing them over the cliff, it was not Juliana who sprang to mind. It was Fancy Evans. So far her daughter had provided evidence enough that she was in a fair way to hating the woman who had borne her. The doctor’s wife, Daphne Cundy, had admitted to an enmity with the woman that had been as unexpected as it had been clear. Daphne did not take the middle road; she loved or hated, and she had admitted as much the previous afternoon. Jean had not been so explicit, but it was obvious that there was little true friendship between herself and Fancy Evans. Helena had been mocked over her love for Adrien, and her mother had been angry about it. Adrien had lived with Fancy for three years and she had finally pushed him to admit he wanted her gone.
Alistair had heard no one speak of her with love or affection. Even William Saxby had admitted he found her a difficult woman, and although Jamie clearly craved her attention, that was a far cry from a normal relationship between mother and son. Fancy’s life must be, by her own making, a very lonely, bitter existence. It might explain why she had been drinking that afternoon, and not openly.
He sat by the unlit fire and looked at the notes he had made. He would meet the Clevedons this evening and have a chance to talk to them. The one person who remained out of reach, but kept appearing in conversation, was Jamie’s friend Simon. Several people now had talked of his troubles on returning from France. It sounded like a classic case of shell shock to Alistair. Inability to cope with normal life. Terror of loud noises. Episodes of anger and violent behaviour. He wondered if Simon had been anywhere near Sancreed when Juliana was pushed.
Putting his head back, he realised how tired he was. Closing his eyes, just for a second, he thought not of Simon Cundy and Cornwall, but of home. Of a tall pink castle, early-morning mist spiralling around the pale harled walls, lead-paned windows still dark and awaiting a touch of sunlight. With a smile touching his lips, he fell asleep.
He awoke with a start to find that he had missed tea and was in a good way to being late for dinner. He had to rush to manage
to be downstairs when the others assembled. Damaris saw him slip down behind everyone else and she gave him a quiet grin. He flushed, hating to be thought ill-mannered. Back at home, being late for dinner was practically a hanging offence. Damaris slid over to him and took his arm.
“Don’t worry, no one else noticed,” she murmured. “Did you take a nap?”
He smiled at her, seeing an affectionate gleam in the eyes that were on a level with his own. Whatever she had felt in the garden earlier, she was not bearing a grudge and he liked her all the more for it.
“An unexpected one,” he replied. “I only woke up about five minutes ago.”
“Well, you don’t look like it,” she said, looking him up and down and approving. “You look fine. Let’s go. You can walk with me.”
The Island was only a few minutes’ walk away, as Juliana had discovered last weekend. Sylvia greeted them at the door with a wide smile on her face and ushered them into the main drawing room, a handsome room with a fine parquet floor partially covered in a very old, but good, Axminster. Margaret ran to them as they entered, hugging and bestowing kisses, like an eager puppy, as her sister dispensed drinks and freshly made cheese straws.
Alistair watched Helena from across the room. She was busily settling her father into his chair, ensuring that he was comfortable and had all that he wanted. Geoffrey put up with the fussing with a good-humoured ease. It was clearly easier to simply allow her to do what she wanted. Watching Helena move from her father to Jamie, who had apparently not tied his tie to her satisfaction, Alistair smothered a smile. Jamie bore her ministrations with a grin, even when she wiped at a spot of shaving soap just below his ear, and thanked her cheekily afterwards. She gave Jamie a good-natured shrug of her magnificent shoulders and pretended to aim a cuff at his head.
Her influence was clear on her sister. For the first time, Margaret’s appearance was polished, and showed what a beauty lay underneath the oil and overalls. Her hair had been brushed to a burnished perfection, then coiled and pinned neatly on her head. There was powder on her nose, and her mouth bore signs of lipstick. Her frock had been pressed, her shoes cleaned, and she was for once free from oil.
The Dead Woman Who Lived Page 29