Marsh Blood (The Endel Mysteries Book 2)

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘I’ve known more than a few that do. Could be as so much of my life was spent amongst people with just enough to keep the rent-book straight providing the grocer’ll leave it on the slate for another week. You need money and time to waste both on fancy men or fancy women, and not many men in our street had that and none of the women. It was only when I moved up that I discovered both were as common a hobby as golf amongst the better-heeled. Or is that one of my chips showing?’

  ‘No. From what I’ve seen of my married chums here and when I was married, you’re dead right again.’

  We had left the lights of Harbour behind and directly ahead and all around was darkness lit only by the approaching lights of the inn. I felt they should have been welcoming but, possibly as they looked so lonely, the sensation they gave me wasn’t one I welcomed.

  ‘David.’

  ‘Yep?’

  ‘Perhaps fancy man was just aiming at a duck when he accidentally got Johnnie.’

  ‘If it was fancy man who pulled that specific trigger.’

  ‘Must’ve been, surely? Mike and me dad are sure of it.’

  ‘Mike and me dad are sure I’m your fancy man. If they can be wrong once why not twice. If they’re not wrong twice, yes, I agree. Somewhere on this marsh there’s one bloody lucky duck.’ He crawled the car over the last bridge and into the yard. ‘And right now, love,’ he added unemotionally, ‘I know just how that feathered bugger feels.’

  Chapter Seven

  Mrs Evans-Williams welcomed us as if we were back from South America. She had exchanged her multi-coloureds for five rows of mock-jet beads and, from the way her hand reached for them every time she mentioned anything connected with David’s car, she was wearing them in mourning for its demise. She didn’t touch them when she said his bathroom had been temporarily repaired by Biggs of Cliffhill and was quite safe for what she delicately termed normal purposes, but dear Johnnie would be happier if the bath remained unused until the whole ceiling was taken down and reconstructed. ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind using the staff bathroom in the attic, Mr Lofthouse?’

  I said, ‘He can borrow my bath if you don’t object.’

  ‘So kind ‒’ She ducked into the office to pull out and push in a couple of plugs in the small switchboard, listen momentarily to one of the headphone earpieces, then ducked back. ‘Just Angie ringing off. Had a lovely outing?’

  David said the exhibition had been interesting and we’d dined at the Wheatsheaf.

  ‘How delightful. Good food?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. So my insurance bloke comes out at ten tomorrow? Good. And how’s your husband tonight?’

  ‘A little tired and sore but dear Nick says that’s only to be expected and has managed to persuade him to have an early night. We’ve had a really peaceful evening as everyone’s a little tired after the best day out yet! You should see the cold store ‒ can’t turn round! So nice for them all.’ She smiled indulgently at the four farmers propping up the bar watching Trevor refill their pints in a contented bleary silence. ‘The McCabes are watching some special late documentary on television, the others are in the lounge and if you’d care for coffee or any other hot drink Trevor can slip out for it. Harry should be back any moment. He’s sleeping in again ‒ such a comfort. Would you care for anything?’

  ‘Not for me, thanks. I’d like to go straight up. How about you, David?’

  He glanced at the farmers. ‘I think I’ll have a nightcap in there first. Would you care to join me in one, Mrs Evans-Williams?’

  That evoked one of her girlish giggles. ‘How kind ‒ I’d love to but I don’t think I should. No head at all. One sniff of a barmaid’s apron and I’m woozy! But thank you so much, Mr Lofthouse ‒ so kind.’

  ‘Sweeties, you’re back!’ Angie sailed out of the residents’ corridor with both arms outstretched. She had topped her black velvet pants with a scarlet sweater and looked vividly attractive and even happier than in the yard last night. ‘Sweeties, we’ve had the most fabulous day! Absolutely exhausting but fabulous! Just everything went right ‒ what am I saying?’ She slapped a hand over her mouth and flapped her eyelashes at David. ‘Do forgive me, sweetie! I am the world’s most tactless woman and I never remember things ‒ but your car ‒ your poor car ‒ and whatever it was that happened to your bath ‒ the blood froze! It absolutely froze! Have you always been accident-prone?’

  ‘Personally, my dear,’ drawled Renny, ambling after her, ‘as I said earlier, I think the dear boy was born lucky. Good to see you back, dear people. I hope you’ll both join us for a final drink before we push on up. I’m allowing myself one extra tonight as we really have had a splendid day’s shooting, if a trifle long for yours truly. Anno Domini catching up, alas.’

  David said quickly, ‘I was just hoping you’d join me, I dislike drinking alone and Rose is opting out. She’s ‒ er ‒ rather upset,’ he paused deliberately, ‘for a reason I know she’d prefer me to explain in her absence.’

  I was glad to get away but puzzled by his method of arranging this. When it came to handing out gratuitous information on personal matters, David normally had much in common with Mr Smith. I heard the low murmur of his voice but not what he was saying, as I went up the stairs. I was on the landing when I heard the mock-jets hitting the floor like machine-gun fire. I glanced down. David and Renny were on their knees picking up beads, Mrs Evans-Williams with eyes popping was clutching her bare neck and Angie was exclaiming dramatically, ‘I knew it! I knew it! Didn’t I tell you, Renny, sweetie, something ghastly would have to happen to a third person?’

  I was undressed, in my kaftan, and about to run a bath when I remembered her scarf. I cursed and took it out of my bag. I was in no mood to go down again tonight. I shook the scarf free of creases to refold it properly, looked at it more closely and carefully picked off a few strands that weren’t blue wool. I held them in the palm of my hand, looked at them for a few moments, then went over to my anorak that was hanging on the back of the door, dug in both pockets and took out the messy collection of mohair I had picked up in the nethouse. The purple and green strands from the scarf were identical. I realized there was a possibility the scarf had picked them up in Mike’s toolbox but, probably as Sue was so much on my mind, I was sure they had come off the fodder. Sue would have thought a roll in a nethouse rather gorgeous. Angie, absolutely fabulous. Sue had stopped overworking ‘fabulous’ some time last year. And then I remembered she had used it this morning, and David’s remark about people doing odd things when steamed-up. Was that what had niggled me at dinner?

  I sat in an armchair to think. I was still there when David knocked softly a good hour later. He looked surprised by the speed with which I unlocked the door. ‘From the silence I thought you’d dropped off with the light on.’

  ‘Just brooding. Come in a minute.’ I closed the door, showed him the mohair and explained. ‘He’s local. Only locals know about nethouses. Good wake?’

  ‘I’ve known better though I had it for free. How to make friends and influence people. Miss death the odd time and have a good gory tale to tell.’

  ‘Why were you so keen to tell it? And shove me out first?’

  He said gently, ‘I thought I might as well get it over and stop them bombarding you with questions. They were bound to hear from the helps in the morning. I only beat the McCabes by a short head. There was a bit about it on the local late-night news. Nick remembered the name from your conversation with Renny last night. They came charging into the bar with the tidings. Have you finished with your bath or shall I come back?’

  ‘Have it now. And, thanks.’

  ‘Any time. Right.’ He paused and seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. He went for his things and after a very quick bath, paused again and smoothed down his damp pale-gold hair. ‘Gordon?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t get rid of the feeling that she was murdered.’ He looked at me in silence. ‘You think so too or you’d have slapped that down.’

  ‘What I thi
nk right now is that you need a sleeping tablet. Got any?’

  ‘No. I hate ’em.’

  ‘So do I, but there are times when we all have to do things we hate and this is one. I haven’t any. I’m going to knock on McCabe’s door. What’s the use of a doctor in the house if you don’t use him?’

  ‘David, no, you mustn’t bother him ‒’

  ‘Stuff that. Why else did he take the Hippocratic oath?’ He vanished before I could protest further and was back with Nick McCabe in less than a minute.

  Nick was sweet. ‘Why, surely, Rose, I appreciate you require a little help with sedation for one night. You have had a kind of real traumatic experience.’ He opened his neat medical case and hesitated over his decision before taking out a bottle of capsules. ‘If you are not accustomed to nocturnal medication I guess just the one of these will suffice, but I’ll leave you the two.’

  David was interested in the contents of the case. ‘You’ve come prepared to deal with most things.’

  ‘I would not say that. I merely have the basics such as insulin, adrenalin, morphine, cardiac stimulants and so forth.’ He studied me clinically. ‘You look real tuckered out tonight, Rose. You’ll feel a lot better after a good sleep ‒ oh, Linda said to tell you she is real sorry but will not mention this to you as we both surely appreciate you will not care to talk about your friend. I have been in Britain the five years and having married with a Britisher I guess I have come to understand your British reserve. Not that it was too hard for me as my parents were both from Scotland ‒ down the Lowlands ‒ and folk do not come much more reserved than from those parts. Okay now? Have a real good sleep.’ David held out a glass of water. ‘Knock it back as the doctor says, Rosie. That’s it.’

  ‘David, you’re a hideous bully.’

  He grinned, ‘Sleep well.’ He went out with Nick.

  I went out like a light directly I got into bed and the next thing I knew was Doreen shaking me. It was half past eight, my tea was getting cold, and I was wanted on the telephone. ‘Sorry to wake you again, madam, but Mrs Evans-Williams said she was sure you’d not mind going down in your dressing-gown as there’s no one around now they’ve all gone shooting and it’s that poor gentleman as lost his poor wife in the Ditch yesterday afternoon ‒ and the turn that gives me when Mrs Evans-Williams says as she was a friend of yours ‒ never, I says, not that poor young lady as been poorly ‒ here you are, madam, and your slippers …’

  ‘Thanks, Doreen.’ I tore down the corridor rubbing my eyes and was only half awake when I reached the alcove and went into the wrong box.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Mrs Evans-Williams’s breathless voice. ‘I’ll change over ‒ through now.’

  ‘Thanks. Francis? Rose.’

  ‘I’ve woken you ‒ but I had to. I’ve been walking the marsh for hours and’ ‒ he was trying to steady his voice ‒ ‘I just had to talk to someone who understands and I know you will. Can I come over and see you? I’ve got to come over to collect that damned coat I forgot yesterday ‒ and there’s so much I’ve got to do ‒ but I must see you. Can I come?’

  There was only one answer. ‘Of course. Do you want to come to breakfast?’

  ‘My God, I can’t eat!’

  ‘I know you don’t want to but you must. Please.’

  ‘If you say so I’ll have something here. I’ve got so many calls I’ve got to make ‒ about ten? Too early?’

  ‘Any time’ll suit. Francis, I am so sorry ‒’

  ‘I know ‒ don’t say any more ‒’ He slammed down his receiver.

  The log fire in the lounge had stopped spitting and the heap of uncleared white ash below the iron basket glowed red when Hilda came in with our coffee. It was closer to eleven than ten when Francis arrived. David had long disappeared in his insurance man’s car to look over the remains in Joe Wattle’s backyard. Hilda’s chubby face was unnaturally solemn. She moved on tiptoe and spoke in a whisper. Old English tribal customs died as hard on the marsh as in the rest of the country. She eyed Francis covertly and approved of his drawn, white face, black tie and the dark-grey business suit he had told me he had on for the Smiths’ sake as they had insisted he lunch with them.

  I put his coffee at his elbow. ‘I know you’re trying to chuck smoking,’ I said when Hilda closed the door behind her as if it were thistledown, ‘but if you’ve got any on you, have one. If not I’ll get you a packet from one of the machines in the bar.’

  ‘I’ve been chaining all night.’ He produced a squashed packet and wasted two matches before he was able to light the cigarette. ‘I knew you’d understand.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘I’ve been thinking in the night ‒ all night ‒ that you’re just about the one person I know who can understand how I feel at this moment. That’s why I had to come to you.’ He paused as if he were having to haul each word from his battered mind and had to be sure it was the right one before he voiced it. ‘I want to tell you why. You ‒ you won’t like it and ‒ and I won’t like saying it ‒ but I must ‒ I must be honest with someone and I know you’ll understand. Can you bear it?’

  He was my friend and neighbour and I’d been engrained with old English tribal customs. ‘You say anything you want to say, Francis.’

  His strained dark-blue eyes appraised me unhappily. ‘First I want to say how much I’ve always admired your loyalty to your husband. I’ve never heard you say one unkind word about him or about your marriage, though ‒ though I’ve always suspected it wasn’t happy. No, please ‒ I’m not going to ask questions ‒ I just wanted you to know ‒ I’ve known and understood your attitude and ‒ and shared it more than you’ve ever known.’ He saw the expression that flickered through my eyes before I could stop it. ‘I’m not blind. Rose,’ he said in a harsh tone I’d never heard him use before, ‘and like you I married for love. And in one way I’ll always remember Susie with love though I’ve known ‒ my God, have I not known ‒ for years ‒ that she wasn’t the girl I had thought I married. You knew that too.’ He caught my hands with both his and his hands were icy. ‘Don’t turn away! Don’t try and pretend any more. It’s too damn late. You can’t hurt her now and I know she often upset ‒ no, saddened ‒ you as much as she hurt me. I know that as surely as I know that when you married ‒ like me ‒ when you said for better or for worse, you bloody meant it.’ He dropped my hands, got up, roamed the room, then swung round, savagely. ‘Know what you and I are? Couple of crazy anachronisms! Believing in marriage vows! Huh! How olde worlde can you get? And you did, didn’t you?’

  I felt as if I had been kicked in the chest. I just nodded.

  ‘And didn’t you keep hoping one day ‒ somehow ‒ one day ‒ things would work out? That one day you’d be able to stop pretending to yourself ‒ not merely to the world ‒ to yourself?’ I nodded again. ‘My God, Rose, don’t I understand! Haven’t I had to pretend to myself ‒ but I had to! I loved her. God, how I loved her and ‒ yes ‒ yes ‒ I know she was fond of me but she never loved me as I loved her and don’t you now dare to pretend she did!’ He spat the words. ‘You’re so kind, but don’t you dare try and be kind to me about that now! Different for her parents and they’re another reason why I had to keep on pretending. I ‒ I bloody like my father-in-law tremendously. I wish he were my real father. I mightn’t if I could remember mine but I can’t. And though my mother-in-law is one of the most infuriatingly silly women I’ve come across, she means well and she’s been good to me and she ‒ and he ‒ so adored Susie and were so proud of her. How could I hurt them?’

  I had never liked him so much as I did at that moment, and yet, strangely, I felt as if I was with a stranger. He neither looked nor sounded the man I had known as Sue’s husband. It was as if the cellophane wrapping had suddenly been ripped off exposing the genuine article beneath. ‘You couldn’t hurt them, Francis. You’ve been a marvellous son-in-law, and I’ve got to say it, a marvellous husband. Never forget that. Whatever else you think you must forget, never forget that.’

  ‘I did try ‒’
His voice cracked, he covered his eyes with one hand and turned away. He walked to the far end of the lounge and stood hunched over one of the glass cases with his shaking shoulders towards me. I was glad for his sake that he had the relief of tears, even though, after what he had just said, I was a little surprised he still had tears to shed. He had touched so many of my old scars that I couldn’t avoid remembering how I had shed so many tears in marriage that, when it was abruptly ended by a plane crash, my eyes had run dry.

  Eventually, I went over to him. ‘Come and sit down now and have that coffee.’

  He gave a long shuddering sigh, turned, put both hands on my shoulders. ‘Yes. Thanks.’ His voice was calm and beneath the reddened eyelids his eyes had calmed. ‘I need it ‒ and you ‒ to help me pick up the pieces. You will, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘God bless you, my dear.’ He bent his head and gently kissed my cheek. ‘I was feeling so alone. You don’t know what it means to know you’re ‒’ He broke off and jerked up his head as the door was quickly closed behind us.

  I glanced round. ‘Hilda back?’

  ‘Hilda ‒?’ He was frowning. ‘The maid? No. I’m not sure who it was. Some chap in outdoor clothes. Gone too soon to see who.’

  ‘Probably David back from Harbour as I don’t think more than the staff are around.’ I took him back to the sofa and, to give him time to get himself back in control, told him about David’s car.

  He was aghast. ‘Went up? Just like that? Why?’

  ‘Not sure. David thinks probably a combination of faulty wiring and a petrol leak.’

  ‘He should know. With his knowledge of electronics there can’t be much he doesn’t know about wiring. In fact ‒ God ‒ what am I thinking? I must be crazy!’

  I was curious. ‘What were you about to say?’