by Ali Carter
‘What you going to do today?’
‘I’ll make my way over to the house and see if there is anything I can help with. Also I want to try and encourage Diana to let Asquintha do something helpful.’
‘Poor Asquintha, she really does not get a look in. Never has.’
‘I know.’
With hungry, morning stomachs the conversation paused for us to eat the majority of our honeyed porridge.
‘Well, I’m going to take the boys to playgroup in a minute, and then I’ll be having lunch with them and shan’t be back here until late afternoon. Are you in for dinner tonight?’
‘Yes. Would you like me to cook? I love cooking and particularly when it’s for someone other than just me.’
‘There’s not much in the cupboard,’ said Nanny apologetically.
‘Don’t worry about that. I should be able to find time to go to the shops today and, if not, I like a challenge.’
‘Sounds good to me. Thanks Susie.’ Nanny pushed herself up from the armchair. ‘Right that’s me finished. Shall I take your bowl?’
‘Yes, please.’ I stood up as she took it and went to have a shower.
Nanny had put on her blue pinny and gone by the time I was dressed and on my way out.
I met Sid, the groundsman, as I crossed the yard in front of the Manor.
He doffed his cap with a ‘Mornin’ Miss Mahl.’
‘Morning,’ I replied, thinking word must have gone round I was staying in Rose Cottage.
‘It’s nice to see you but I’m sorry about the circumstances of your visit.’
‘Yes, it’s very sad news.’
‘Haven’t seen Lady Greengrass today but I hear no one knows yet how his Lordship died.’
‘Oh, I’m not sure that’s true,’ I answered slightly surprised by Sid’s forthrightness. There’s nothing like a country estate for gossip among the staff.
‘It was just something I heard…and that he was in the pub on Saturday night. That’s queer for sure, Miss Mahl, as he never does nowt like that.’
Where was this new gossip coming from? I attempted to quash it. ‘Well, the family received a report last night and so I’m certain we will all be told the reason soon enough.’
‘If you ask me, I reckon he passed out and knocked his head for dead.’
‘Did he pass out often?’
‘Once in the fifteen years I’ve been here. He was a thin man, Madam.’ Sid looked at me with appraising eyes. ‘You should put some weight on too, or you’ll be passing out.’
I felt a little startled, but he was already turning to go with a ‘Righty ho, I need to rake the gravel in the back yard. Got fair ruffled up in that storm last night.’
‘See you Sid,’ I said, but he’d turned and gone, whistling into the wind.
On the doorstep of the Manor sat a cat. A tiny, velvety-black one with very short hair and a bell around its neck to scare off the birds before they could be eaten. It could have been a kitten, although its quizzical expression added a few years. It was awfully cold for any sort of animal to be outside, let alone such a delicate one. I was sure it didn’t belong to the Greengrasses, but there’s no way I was going to leave those pleading eyes on the doorstep. I scooped it up, its body trembling as I opened the front door. The main hall was dark and I couldn’t hear anyone. The cat began to purr loudly.
‘Diana,’ I called out, to no response.
Immediately there was a shattering clatter from the kitchen, just off to the left, and Mary came out into the hall looking a bit shaken. The poor cat leapt for its life and was cowering under the hall table.
‘Morning, Madam. Sorry, I dropped a saucepan lid when I heard you shout. Are you looking for Lady Greengrass?’
I was down on all fours under the hall table.
‘Yes,’ I said over my shoulder. ‘I found a cat on the doorstep.’ I stood up and held it close.
‘Oh Madam! Oh Madam!’ said Mary, as if she was standing on hot stones.
‘What is it?’
Mary was very anxious. ‘Get it out, quick, before anyone sees. It’ll be all right. I know the cat, belongs to a couple in the village. Quick, quick shoo it away.’
She seemed so frantic that I put the poor black bundle out of the front door, hoping it would find its own way home.
‘What was that all about?’ I asked Mary.
‘Shh, don’t let Lady Greengrass hear. Lady Cornfield’s allergic to cats, which means no one else can have one. Makes Lady Greengrass cross to talk about it.’
Now that I thought about it, in all the many ancestral portraits hanging on the walls or the family photographs grouped on every side table, I’d never seen a cat. I’d never heard Diana talk about cats either. Dogs, yes, but cats, no.
‘Did you say you were looking for Lady Greengrass?’ asked Mary.
‘Yes, but I don’t want to disturb her if she’s busy.’
‘She’s alone upstairs in the family sitting room and has been for a while. I was just going to take coffee up. Would you like some?’
‘Yes please, but I’ll wait and take it up for you.’
‘No, no, you shouldn’t be the one having to carry it.’
‘Oh Mary, please let me. I’m going that way anyway.’
‘If you’re sure. It’s almost ready.’
Mary shuffled back into the kitchen, leaving me gazing at a full-length portrait visible halfway up the imposing oaken staircase. It was of Alexander’s father, James, at the age of about forty. He was dressed in the estate tweed, holding a shotgun and there was, of course, a loyal, black cocker spaniel sitting attentively at his feet. As is often the case, it was rather a better portrait of the dog than the man.
‘Good morning, Madam,’ said a male voice behind me.
I turned. ‘Oh, Shepherd, hello. Have you been away?’ I asked, as this was the first time I had seen him since Lord Greengrass’s death.
‘No, not me, Madam. The house has been quiet and I didn’t want a man’s presence to upset Lady Greengrass. I knew my Mary would fetch me if she couldn’t cope…’ Shepherd grinned over my shoulder. ‘Talk of the devil,’ he said quietly and I realised Mary was coming up behind me. When she was close enough to hear he joked, ‘Doesn’t stop me hovering in the kitchen for tit bits, mind you. Perks of the marriage.’
Having relieved Mary of a tray of coffee for Diana, I climbed the stairs, cups rattling in their saucers all the way up to the first floor, then along the landing and into the family sitting room.
‘Good morning, Diana,’ I said as my right foot pushed the door open.
She didn’t even attempt to get up to help me but I suppose this was forgivable in her circumstance.
‘Morning, Susie, I was hoping you would come.’ She sounded strained.
‘I have brought coffee. Would you like me to pour you some?’
‘Yes please,’ she replied, her voice carrying much better now she could stage-manage my arrival. ‘Why not put the tray down on the pouffe between the sofas? It’s steady enough.’
I squeezed between side table and sofa to get to it. There was in fact a round, Baroque walnut table against the wall but its entire surface was covered with large hardback books of country houses, garden designs and catalogues from the latest exhibitions at the Royal Academy. The penny dropped and I made sense of the phrase ‘coffee-table books’.
‘Milk and sugar?’ I offered, pretty sure the answer was yes to both.
‘Yes please. Two lumps of sugar. I have a real need for it at the minute.’
Diana was sitting in one of two elegant armchairs in the bow window.
‘Mind if I turn the lights on?’ I asked wanting to brighten the place up as the morning light was so gloomy.
‘Do, Susie. The switch for the chandelier is to the left of the fireplace and the wall lamps go on at the door.’
With only one, albeit large, window in the room, turning the lights on made a great difference. I picked up the coffee cups and joined Diana in the free armchair
next to her.
‘Are you warm enough Susie? I could get Mary to come and light the fire.’
‘No, no, it’s lovely and warm in here.’
What should you talk about if you were sitting in a posh sitting room with a woman whose husband has just died? I didn’t have a clue. Like everyone else, I wanted to know the cause of death but I didn’t feel that I could ask. Diana didn’t initiate conversation either. Instead she stared down the room at the elegant fireplace, deep in thought, apparently oblivious to me sitting next to her. When my coffee cup was empty I had an excuse to break the silence.
‘Would you like any more coffee?’
Without moving her head, Diana ignored my question and said, ‘Susie, I hate to ask you but I wonder if you’d mind drafting a death notice for the paper? If you wrote it now I can send it to The Times and the Telegraph as soon as we have a funeral date.’
‘Of course, but are you sure I am the person to do it?’
‘Yes.’ She briefly glanced in my direction, then returned to gazing across the room. ‘I’d rather not ask Arthur until we have a draft for him to review, and I know that Asquintha would use all the wrong sorts of words and phrases.’
I didn’t have the heart to point out that I am too young to have paid particular attention to death notices, and so I hoped Diana had an example I could follow.
‘Do you have an old newspaper I could consult?’
‘There’s a Debrett’s on the hall table which will help you with the wording and layout.’
I knew that Debrett’s – famous for being ‘the trusted source on British social skills, etiquette and style’ – would keep me on the right track, and so I replied, ‘Oh perfect. I’ll do it straight away.’
But Diana wasn’t ready for me to leave just yet. I got up and refilled both cups. Then it was as if the sugar in Diana’s coffee had given her a burst of chatty energy.
‘Are you comfortable in Nanny’s bungalow?’
‘Very,’ I said, about to elaborate, but Diana’s mind was darting about and she started talking as I was answering.
‘I suddenly remembered last night that my car is still in the village.’
‘I’ll go and fetch it, if you like?’
‘Well, I asked Arthur, but he’s meeting with the servants this morning to reassure them all that things will continue as normal. Helpfully, Asquintha is going to put aside time before lunch to pick it up, but thank you for the offer.’
Diana was implicitly suggesting that the report I’d picked up from the mortuary yesterday had stated the reason for Alexander’s death. But she was not forthcoming on the matter. I placed my empty coffee cup back in the saucer and carried it to the tray. Diana still had plenty to drink in hers.
‘I’ll go and draft the notice now and bring it back up for you to read,’ I told her.
‘Thank you Susie, you’ll find a pen and pad of paper all ready on the hall table next to the book.’
I hadn’t ever opened a copy of Debrett’s. There it was on the hall table, sitting on top of Debrett’s Peerage & Baronetage; the essential reference book for the British aristocracy. It really is quite something to have a bible for your social class.
I flicked through the index of the handbook and found what I was after. On the Death Notices page it said:
‘The public announcement of the bereavement and details of the funeral and/or memorial service are usually published in a death notice placed by the family in local or national newspapers. They vary in length, but should be kept simple and to the point. Essential details include the name of the deceased, residence (town or village), date of death, where and when services will be held and whether to send flowers.’
I couldn’t help thinking that most people would have worked this out without looking it up in this aristocratic handbook. However, reading between the lines, what Diana really wanted me to consult the book for was the wording.
The upper-classes have vehement rules when it comes to language, and anything ‘ungentrified’, as they put it, is met with scathing judgment. Silly little sayings such as, ‘the only thing which has a jacket is a potato’ are repeated by parents to remind their children, in this case, that a blazer must never be referred to as a jacket.
Language is an easy way for the aristocracy to single out the wannabes, I knew. Terms such as train station1, countryside2, horse riding3, drive way4, gamekeeper5, salad dressing6, perfume7, wealthy8, passed away9 and many, many more if used in grand company, will expose your lowly place in the social pecking order. These subtleties, not to mention being in the know when it comes to pronunciation – ‘Belvoir’, for example, is incomprehensibly pronounced ‘Beaver’ – are inherited with birth.
I copied the example notice, changing names, dates and places accordingly so that it read,
GREENGRASS – Alexander Michael, 9th Earl of Greengrass. Beloved husband of Diana, Countess of Greengrass; father of Arthur and the late Amelia. At home on 26th November. A funeral service will be held on xxth November x o’clock at Spire Church, Spire, Dorset BH203PC. Family flowers only.
Although Lord Greengrass had died in the graveyard as the church was in the grounds of the estate, technically this was a ‘home’ death, I thought.
Once done I tore the sheet of paper from the pad and turned to go back up to the family sitting room. As my foot was about to land on the first step of the staircase, the loud shrill of the telephone sounded. I went back to the hall table and picked it up.
‘Hello?’
‘Detective Inspector Grey here.’
‘Inspector, it’s Susie Mahl. Can I help?’
‘Susie? Oh yes, Vicky…I must remember to call you Susie. I was hoping for Lady Greengrass.’
‘I can transfer you Inspector, but would you mind me asking if you’ve found a cause for death?’ I knew it was presumptuous of me to ask but I was desperate to know.
‘Not exactly and that’s why I am ringing. It’s a far more complicated case than any of us anticipated, Susie. You can expect a call from Officer Moss in the next hour or so. As for now, if you could please get me Lady Greengrass on the line.’
‘Give me a second and I’ll pass you on.’
I raced upstairs and found Diana sitting in the same armchair, vacantly looking out of the window.
‘Inspector Grey on the telephone,’ I said as I handed her the receiver.
She cleared her throat before putting it to her good ear. ‘Inspector?’
At that moment I realised I’d left the draft death notice downstairs. I went out of the room and hovered in the corridor ashamedly listening in to Diana’s half of the conversation.
‘Murder?’
‘My husband?’
‘In Spire.’
‘Never.’
‘No one.’
‘I couldn’t possibly.’
‘What do you mean, you can’t confirm?’
‘If it’s murder you have to be absolutely certain before you start such accusations.’
The conversation ended abruptly and I started tiptoeing down the corridor on the way back to the hall, but before I’d even reached the staircase I heard Diana call out, ‘Susie! Susie!’
I retraced my steps to find her looking puffed up and on the edge of her seat.
‘My dear, they say he may have been murdered!’
‘Murdered?’ I tried to sound shocked.
‘Yes.’
It was bad news for the Greengrass family undoubtedly, and I tried to tell myself that no one could know for sure until the inquest had delivered its verdict, and the inquest hadn’t even been opened yet, and might not be for a while, let alone deliver a verdict as the inquest would probably be adjourned on opening.
Still, undeniably, a thrill sparked inside me.
Murder…
How many people find themselves in the centre of a murder case without either, a) committing it, or b) being a member of the jury or the legal profession?
Hardly anybody, that’s who. Other than me! I
felt transfixed.
I waited for Diana to go on but she kept silent as she looked at me, with her chest heaving and a furious expression on her face. She was clearly unaccepting of the likely cause of Alexander’s death.
I gently moved into the room and sat down on the firm, estate-tweed sofa. It itched the backs of my calves through my tights, and as a distraction I picked up the cushion beside me and placed it on my lap as if in some innate way this would give me comfort. It had large curly white numbers embroidered on it. The year of Amelia’s birth. I looked up and caught Diana’s eyes on it.
‘Darling Amelia, and now my husband. Why me, Susie? Why me?’
I didn’t have an answer, and I don’t think she expected one. Life can be so incredibly sad at times and particularly when there is no explanation for its pattern. My heart went out to her and Arthur. I silently recited a Hail Mary for them to find the strength to get through another death in the family.
Diana continued. ‘Alexander and I grew apart physically with age, but we remained very fond of each other. I did love him Susie, however much he irritated me at times.’
She wiped her eyes with a corner of her handkerchief and turned to look once more out of the bay window, softly murmuring, ‘How am I meant to rattle around this big house with no company?’
I didn’t think this was the moment to draw her attention to the fact that the house now belonged to Arthur, which would mean, as had been discussed yesterday, that soon enough Diana would have to move out. In the interim, Lord and Lady Greengrass’s ostracism of Asquintha could now work in her favour, if she wanted it to. She’d certainly be best equipped for keeping spirits high day to day while everyone got themselves sorted, and Diana’s vulnerability might just give Asquintha the opportunity to show how capable she could be in time at running the estate. Arthur had shadowed his father for the past nine years and I’d be happy to bet that during this period she would have picked up lots of information regarding the ins and outs of Beckenstale Manor.
‘What did Inspector Grey say exactly?’ I asked. I felt immensely curious.
‘Murder! Alexander didn’t have many friends but nor did he have many enemies, and so to suggest he could have been murdered is absurd.’ Diana shook her head.