Trembine Halt

by Ivan B

Sarah took the milk, “Oh that’s great, how come Rupert didn’t bring it himself.”

  Julia beat her arms against her sides, “He’s at the farm, I’m staying at Ambrose House.”

  Julia noted the mystified look on Sarah’s face, “The big house on the other side of the cottages.”

  Sarah nodded, still not quite sure of the geography. She proffered the milk, “Coffee?”

  “Wonderful.”

  Sarah went into the kitchen while Julia took off her duffel coat and gum boots before walking into the kitchen, “Had to come past anyway as I was going home for some clothes.”

  She looked around, “Say, Rupert’s opened up the old kitchen.”

  Sarah laid out some mugs, “Seemed silly to leave it in mothballs, it’s such a lovely room.”

  Julia gave her a quizzical look. “You mean he let you open it up?”

  “Sort of.”

  Julia wriggled onto a kitchen chair, “Didn’t think he’d been in here since his sister committed suicide.”

  Sarah shot her an anxious look, “You mean you know she committed suicide?”

  Julia rubbed her face to try and warm up the cheeks, “Everybody knows she committed suicide; everybody apart from Rupert. The coroner said it was suicide, the police surgeon said it was undoubtedly suicide and the police traffic inspectors could offer no other solution. Rupert, on the other hand, can’t – or won’t – believe it. As far as he is concerned Anna was a saint.”

  Sarah pushed over a mug of coffee, “But she wasn’t?”

  Julia cupped her hands around the mug, “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but attentive and doting mother, yes; saint, no.”

  Sarah chose her words carefully, “Is it true she used to get drunk?”

  Julia laughed, “Absolutely and totally ratted every Friday night, but to be fair only Fridays as she didn’t have to drive Peter to school the following day or go to church.”

  Sarah sipped her coffee, “Did you know her well?”

  “Not really, we came across each other, couldn’t do anything else in a small place like this, but were really ships passing in the night. I didn’t understand her world and she didn’t understand mine.”

  Sarah raised a questioning eyebrow. Julia took a swig of coffee. “I worked for a living, she lived off child benefit and Rupert’s charity. Oh she looked after Rupert all right, and believe me he’s one of those men who need looking after, but her world was Peter, Peter, Peter and alcohol in that order.”

  Sarah nodded and Julia looked her up and down. Her mother had told her, on the phone, that Rupert had turned up clean shaven, wearing fresh clothes and dreadfully anxious to get milk for Sarah. Anxious enough to traipse through the freezing snow rather than ringing up to ask. She wondered what sort of woman could have that effect of Rupert, after all nobody and nothing else had. “Dad says that that’s your train in the station.”

  Sarah grinned, “Well and truly stuck in the station. Before I can move it I’ll have to check that none of the brakes are frozen on and hope I can get enough traction to pull away, and I can't do that until they’ve repaired the signals.”

  Julia automatically looked out of the window onto the freezing landscape. Sarah followed her gaze, “I don’t suppose your dad could dig the snow away from the sides of the power unit. I’d like to start the engine to charge the batteries.”

  Julia grinned, “No need to ask, there’s a ditch digger on the back of the tractor in the car-park and I’ll do it – after another cup of coffee!”

  Sarah laughed and put the kettle on. She liked Julia and her easy manner and, if tackled nicely, she might get further information from her about Rupert that she could get nowhere else.

  While Julia was out of the house Buster had another good search for the electronic diaries and found nothing. He stood in the hall and mentally went round every room, at least one good thing about a minimalist house was that there were few nooks and crannies to hide anything. He went back into the lounge and re-investigated the sofa. He pulled off the cushions, felt around the cracks and found nothing, except a little slit in the fabric almost in the left hand corner of the settee. He tried to put his hand through, but it was too small. He sighed and took out his trusty flick knife. Two cuts of fabric later and his hand was delving inside the depths of the settee. To his amazement he recovered Maria’s diary, a diamond ring, a small ladies penknife (open) and a lipstick. He sat back on his haunches and thought. Maria must had cut the fabric and then pushed the items through, to do so she must have been really anxious. Buster felt around the other end of the settee, but here there were no slits. He put the cushions back on the settee, pocketed his findings and went down into the basement, part of the house he had not yet shown Julia. He took a shotgun out of the gun cabinet and laid it on the small workbench. The shot gun had never been used in anger, like the Land Rover it was part of the image Jeremy and Maria had wanted to project, or perhaps believe. He found a saw and took off two thirds of the barrel. Next he pushed the sawn barrel end behind the workbench, picked up a box of cartridges and took the shotgun to his bedroom. He reasoning was simple, he now knew that the hit had not been an in and out affair. There had been enough time for Maria to hide her valuables and she had been killed in a different room; that took time and possibly planning. If that were the case the killer, whoever they were, was extremely dangerous and the more insurance Buster could muscle up the better, and in his book a sawn-off shotgun was very good insurance indeed.

  Sarah waved and Julia shouted something like ‘up with girl-power’ before driving away on her tractor. Sarah grinned to herself, she had begun to like Julia and had instantly felt at ease with her, more so that anybody else she had met. She paused and listened to the thrum of the locomotive’s engine instantly knowing from the sound that all was well despite the bitter temperatures. As she checked over her locomotive she thought about what she had learnt from Julia. Rupert, following Anna’s death, had had a terrible nervous breakdown. On the other hand she was full of praise for the way Rupert had taken Anna in and helped her to break free from drugs. He was also apparently quite tolerant of her Friday night drinking, providing she didn’t go back to the vicarage; apparently he let her sleep it off in the church vestry. She’d also learnt that Rupert was loved by the community and respected for his efforts in looking after them as Vicar. As for individual relationships, Julia had fallen about laughing. “Would you have him, he’s just too scary for words?” She’d said in paroxysms of laughter. All in all he appeared to be an enigma, his attributes obviously endeared him to the community, but not to individuals, and especially not to members of the opposite sex. She went back to her cab, turned the heater full on and called up her boss.

  Norman carefully opened his bedroom door and looked inside, his bed was empty. He sighed with relief and walked into his bed room. The door closed behind him and a pair of bare arms draped themselves across his shoulders. She whispered in his ears, “Hello big boy, come back to rescue a damsel in distress?”

  And, despite his misgivings, he smiled in anticipation.

  Mark watched out of the window as Simon plodded through the snow down the farm track. Mark wondered where he was going and hoped that Simon realised that Lunch would be in under the hour and not walk too far before turning back.

  Chapter 15

  Unravelling or Tangling?

  Julia walked back towards Ambrose House carrying a couple of carrier bags of clothes and some toiletries. The air was clear and crisp and she enjoyed the stroll despite the bitter cold. She noted the set of boot prints going down the drive and then into the lane. She idly noted that she’d lost them in the confusion of tracks and prints between the station and the vicarage before picking them up again on the other side of the vicarage. When she got to the lane beside the church that led up to Ambrose House she noted that the tracks went straight on. She walked up the lane, waved to the Happleberrys in their lounge and diverted to talk to them. Once she had been assured that they were alright she
continued up to Ambrose House.

  A few minutes behind her Jill and Harriet made their way home to the Crossing Keeper’s Cottage, they were not going to stay, but pick up a few items and go back to the farm. In truth Jill had been unprepared for isolation through snow and did not have a fully stocked larder, or a deep freezer full of food. Jenny Flosse had gently teased this out of her and then suggested that Harriet and her stay at the farm. Jill had been bowled over by the open hospitality and welcome and the fact that Julia, whose room they would be occupying, seemed totally unconcerned about vacating the room for them. Harriet suddenly spoke, “They’re nice aren’t they?”

  “Who?”

  “Colin’s mum and dad.”

  “Very nice.”

  “If you marry Colin, would we live in the farmhouse?”

  “We’ve not thought about it, Our house isn’t very far from the farm.”

  Harriet screwed up her face in concentration, “But Colin couldn’t park his tractor outside our house without blocking the lane. You have to keep your car in the church car-park, be nicer for it in their big barn.”

  Jill stopped and turned to Harriet, “Would you mind if I married Colin?”

  She shuffled from foot to foot, “Of course not. You should do it before you become an old maid or he finds someone else.”

  Jill laughed and started walking again. Harriet said, over casually, “Would Rupert marry you and Colin?”

  “I expect so, he is the vicar.”

  “Scary,” said Harriet. “You might end up married to anyone.”

  Jill laughed again, she felt like her world was opening up for the better. “He’s not that bad.”

  “Not,” said Harriet firmly, “if you want a paper frog, but he is weird, really weird. He didn’t even know what Pop Idol is.”

  Jill stopped before her front door, “There are more important things in life Harriet.”

  “Yeah, like getting married. You know what you’re always telling me.” She put on a voice, “Look after the small things and…”

  They entered the house laughing, despite the snow, or maybe because of it, life was good.

  Sarah noticed a movement on the platform and saw Rupert waving at her. She opened the cab door and he climbed in. He waved a thermos and shouted over the engine noise, “Hot soup.”

  Sarah looked doubtful, she’d been through Rupert’s larder and usable tins of soup there weren’t. He gave a foolish grin, “From the farm, Jenny Flosse’s best.”

  Sarah nodded and turned the engine off, she’d run it for nearly an hour and figured that in the equation of battery top-up verses fuel spent she’d probably reached equilibrium. He poured out the soup, Sarah took the tin cup, “Thanks for getting the milk, it’s so much better.”

  He beamed with pride, “Least I could do.”

  He pointed to the signal, “Still no workee?”

  “Apparently some farmer up the line pulled up all the cables while clearing snow on a level crossing. The repair team can’t get there, not that that matters, in theory signal control can give me the verbal go-ahead to crawl along at a snail’s pace, but the line’s still blocked by the other train and its driver has managed to get home.”

  “I’m glad,” said Rupert.

  Sarah swung her head to look at him, “Pardon?”

  He momentarily look horrified at his statement before clearing his throat, “I said I’m glad. It means I’ll have your company for another day or two.”

  Sarah stared at him and he hung his head and looked away mumbling in short staccato sentences. “It’s been different having you. Normally I don’t like guests. They get in the way. But you’re easy to be with. You understand. And… And I like having you around.”

  As if exhausted he slumped against the side of the cab. Sarah sought for words and first went for practicalities. “If I were you, I’d take my head off of that window, it’s so cold your ear might stick to it.”

  Like a dutiful schoolboy Rupert sat up straight. Sarah sought for words to reply to his statements whilst trying to analyse her own feelings. She realised that over the last couple of days, despite the tensions surrounding Rupert and his odd behaviour, she’d been content, in fact more content than for many a year. She replied carefully, “I’m enjoying my stay too, although I must admit that it’s been difficult at times.”

  He twisted a fistful of his old duffel coat between his hands, “You mean sleeping in Anna’s room?”

  Sarah laid a hand on his knee, “I mean trying not to be Anna. It’s no good expecting me to take her place and you slotting into your old routine as if nothing’s happened. I’m not Anna, I’m Sarah and I’m a different person.”

  She thought, from the look of utter despair on his face, that she might have gone too far, so she added, “But I know what you mean. It’s nice having a meal and not having to talk to be polite, yet it’s good when we do talk over coffee.”

  His eye’s lit up, “That’s what I mean about you understand.”

  “Did Anna ‘understand?’”

  He sighed, “She sometimes took silence as an indication of tension.”

  He poured himself some soup using the cap of the thermos flask. They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the tick tick tick of the cooling engine and watching the white landscape. Rupert broke the silence by murmuring in a sort of hoarse whisper. “I’ve been thinking and I’ve had an idea.”

  He shuffled in his seat while Sarah dreaded what might come next. He licked his already moist lips and ran his hand through his untidy hair. His idea came out in a fast burst of speech as if by saying it fast he’d get Sarah to hear it all before she answered. “I wondered if you’d like to make Anna’s room your own and from time to time come and stay and maybe we could go out walking together - I’m not proposing anything untoward, I just thought that you might like to…”

  He tailed off into silence and watched Sarah from his deep set eyes like an animal seeking affection from an uncertain master. Sarah considered his words and tried to think what lay behind them. “Can I think about that for a moment?”

  He nodded glumly and went to stand up, saying something like “I’ll go and leave you to it.”

  Sarah put her hand out. “Don’t go, just let me think.”

  She poured herself, and him, some more soup and, once again, they sat in silence.

  “Lipstick?” Queried Julia, “why her lipstick? I know some people get attached to certain colours, but I hardly think that would qualify it as among your valuable possessions.”

  Buster, who had not even considered this point, picked up the lipstick and took off the cap. He screwed the brightly coloured lipstick in and out. Julia stared at it and said, bewildered, “It’s not even the colour she was wearing when we…”

  Buster went to the kitchen and came back with some kitchen roll. He screwed the lipstick as far as he could out of the container and then grasped it in the paper towelling. Having pulled it out of it’s holder he looked inside and shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.”

  Julia studied the lipstick. “Got your knife?”

  He opened his knife and handed it to her. She started to cut the lipstick up into thin slices. Before she got half-way a diamond rolled onto the paper surface. She continued to slice up the lipstick and then chopped up the slices. She found three diamonds. Buster examined them and put them down. “They always shared the load, and if she’d hidden three diamonds then I’d bet my bottom dollar so did he.”

  Julia wrinkled her nose, “But men don’t wear lipstick, so where…”

  While they were thinking Julia examined the diamond ring that had also been in the settee. Buster watched her eyes, “Like it?”

  “It’s exquisite, see how the ring curves above one diamond and below the other, but it’s so well made that if you turn it over it looks exactly the same.”

  Buster looked at the ring. Maria had had it made as a thumb ring, but on Julia’s podgy hands thumbs were out of the question. He reached over and took her l
eft hand, he placed the ring on her second finger, it just made it over the knuckle. She grinned and went to take it off, but the movement of the skin under it made the knuckle that little bit larger, so it wouldn’t come off. Buster grinned, “See, it’s ordained.”

  “What’s ordained?”

  “You and me.”

  She stopped trying to take the ring off and examined it, and the implications of which finger it sat on, again. “You serious?”

  “Wouldn’t say it otherwise.”

  She rotated it on her finger. “If I wear it for the moment I’m not saying yes, I’m just not saying no.”

  “That’s fine by me.”

  She stood up, “Deodorant. There’s a deodorant stick in the toilet bag in Jeremy’s briefcase.”

  They moved as one towards the study.

  Colin tossed another log on the fire and went back to his armchair. He and Mark were waiting for the start of the football coverage. “I can’t understand it, dad’s vehemently against me having a divorce, won’t recognise it and then in the space of one weekend tells me how grand he thinks Jill is and why haven’t I brought her home before!”

  Mark chuckled, “I suspect mum’s got at him. Anyway you’ve probably got Julia to thank.”

  “Julia?”

  “Dad may be worried about the dubiousness, in his eyes, about the relationship between you and Jill, but believe me he’s more worried about that Buster fellow.”

  Colin flicked his eyes to the clock and then back to Mark, “Where did she get him from? I can’t remember Julia ever having serious boyfriend and then she suddenly pulls a rabbit out of the hat and turns up with him.”

  Mark shook his head and smiled, “Did you hear dad trying to get information out of him? It was a lesson in answer avoidance and generalities. Buster told him everything and nothing”

  Colin picked up the TV remote. “Do you think she loves him?”

  Mark burst into laugher, “If I know our Julia any man she’d fall for would be a super-athlete, not a butler, or whatever he is.”