A VOW OF COMPASSION an utterly gripping crime mystery

by Black, Veronica

  ‘Would you like me to follow you to the hospital?’ Sister Joan asked.

  ‘Would you, Sister? That’s very good of you. I’ll get the pickup.’

  He went off, bewilderment surrounding him like a mist.

  ‘He’s taken it very well,’ Constable Petrie said, looking after him.

  ‘He’s in shock,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Look, I’ll just put these boxes inside and then I’ll follow you.’

  ‘Better lock the caravan for him,’ Constable Petrie suggested.

  ‘Oh, the Romanies don’t steal from one another,’ she assured him. ‘Only from other people when need drives them. I’ll see you at the hospital.’

  She picked up the first of the cardboard boxes and carried it up into the caravan. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in the Lee household and, as usual, she was filled with admiration for the shining apple-pie order in which it was kept. Every inch of the available space was cleverly utilized, even to the board on which Edith and Tabitha pinned their childish drawings and poems. Nobody would ever have guessed that the mother of the two children was an alcoholic who, even when stone-cold sober, would have carried off first prize as the most careless housewife in town. Dishes were ranged on the glass-fronted shelves; Madge’s shoes, polished to shining perfection, stood in a row near the low double bed. A large photograph of their wedding hung framed on the wall. Setting down the second box, Sister Joan stood up and looked at it, feeling a sudden pang of grief as she saw a younger Padraic, a devil-may-care sparkle in his eyes, his arm around the slim young figure in the elaborate white dress, with a large bouquet of carnations held in front of her like a shield. What hidden stresses and strains had caused Madge to start drinking? Or had it been in her blood, legacy of a family weakness? To know all would be to understand all, she thought, turning and making her way down the steps again.

  Padraic hadn’t yet left. He was coming across the rough ground towards her.

  ‘I’ll need that lift, sister,’ he said. ‘The pickup won’t start. Seems like it just isn’t my day, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I put the boxes inside. Is that all right?’

  ‘Boxes? Oh, the new dresses for the girls. They’ll be tickled pink with them, Sister. At the age now when they start to take a real interest in how they look. I reckon it won’t be long before they’re giving lads the sideways glance. Well, if they’re as happy with their mates as I’ve been they won’t go far wrong.’ He paused, sending her a shrewd look. ‘You think I’m saying that because it’s not nice to speak ill of the dead? No, it’s the plain truth, Sister. Madge was the light of my eyes years ago. It was after the girls were born — she had a hard time with the birthing of both of them, and afterwards she couldn’t get herself together again properly. She did try though. She did try very hard. And she was never noisy or quarrelsome, Sister. That’s what I can’t fathom. Why did she start a brawl last night down at the pub?’

  ‘Because the landlord wouldn’t serve her?’ Sister Joan suggested as they went towards the car.

  ‘Jim wouldn’t have served her anyway,’ Padraic said. ‘She must’ve got the drink some other place. The off-licence maybe. But she wouldn’t have started a street brawl, Sister. I know my Madge and she’d never have done that!’

  FIVE

  The journey to the hospital was made in silence, Sister Joan tactfully quiet, Padraic sunk in his own thoughts. The full shock of what had happened hadn’t yet dawned upon him, she thought, but when it did he would need privacy in which to grieve.

  When they reached St Keyne’s, Dr Geeson came forward to meet them, hand outstretched, his manner marginally more sympathetic than usual.

  ‘Mr Lee, I’m extremely sorry about what has happened,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid there was nothing we could do.’

  ‘What exactly happened, Dr Geeson?’ Constable Petrie had joined them, looking grave and slightly uncomfortable.

  ‘Mrs Lee was brought in at eleven fifteen last night.’ Dr Geeson sounded as if he was already giving evidence at an inquest. ‘She was drunk and quite abusive. That was unusual for her. Mrs Lee wasn’t an aggressive person. I’m afraid her alcoholism had entered into a new phase. Anyway, she passed out shortly after her arrival here so was placed in a side ward to sleep it off. She was checked every half-hour by one of the duty nurses in case she had vomited but she was sound asleep. This morning she woke up complaining loudly of headache. I was just going off duty but I did examine her. She was still slightly drunk; certainly she’d’ve been unfit to drive a car since the level of alcohol in her blood was still quite high. I told Sister Collet to give her as much water as she could drink and some dry toast together with a couple of painkillers — aspirin. She was somewhat dehydrated so it was necessary to get as much liquid down her as possible.’

  ‘And then?’ Constable Petrie asked as the other paused.

  ‘I went off duty then, snatched a couple of hours’ sleep,’ Dr Geeson said. ‘I was called back at — eleven thirty. Mrs Lee had apparently suffered a convulsion and died. There was a carrier bag by the bed with a bottle of brandy — perhaps I should say a bottle with the dregs of brandy in it. Sister Williams informed me that she had come on duty at ten, relieving Sister Collet, and that Mr Lee had come earlier this morning with a carrier bag containing some things for his wife. Sister Collet informed me that she hadn’t looked inside the bag.’

  ‘If she had she’d not’ve found any bottle of brandy or anything else,’ Padraic said.

  ‘She wasn’t present when Mrs Lee actually died?’ Constable Petrie enquired.

  ‘She had looked in on her twenty minutes earlier and found her still sleeping. She had to take a message over to the children’s unit and when she got back she looked in on Mrs Lee again and immediately raised the alarm. That was when I was recalled.’

  ‘The constable talked about an inquest,’ Padraic said. ‘I don’t want that, Doctor Geeson. Everything splashed over the local paper and the whole town talking. It’d hurt my Madge cruelly if that happened.’

  There was an uneasy and sympathetic silence. Then Dr Geeson said wearily, ‘I’ve been treating Mrs Lee for alcoholism for some time. She has spent three separate periods in drying-out clinics without any lasting benefit and she attended only two meetings of the local AA group. Somehow or other, and I am prepared to accept that Mr Lee wasn’t responsible, she managed to get hold of a bottle of brandy, drink most of it and that was it. I would have no hesitation in declaring that she died of acute alcohol poisoning. I see no need for an inquest.’

  ‘So you’d sign the death certificate?’ Constable Petrie looked rather relieved than otherwise.

  ‘I’ll inform the coroner to that effect,’ Dr Geeson said. ‘Mrs Lee hadn’t been twenty-four hours in hospital but she had previously been under my care and all the symptoms were indicative of a sudden acute onset of alcohol poisoning. The brandy bottle clinched it.’

  ‘Which I never took in to her!’ Padraic repeated stubbornly.

  ‘As you say,’ Dr Geeson said without emphasis.

  ‘You’ll want to make arrangements with the almoner about the registration of the death and the funeral,’ Sister Joan said. ‘You can manage all that?’

  ‘I’ve been managing things for years,’ Padraic said. ‘Excuse me, Sister. Dr Geeson, I know you did what you could but she was a sick woman was Madge. A very sick woman.’

  ‘Excuse me too.’ Sister Joan made for the door followed by Constable Petrie.

  ‘Seems straightforward enough, wouldn’t you say?’ He strolled with her across the forecourt. ‘Nothing to gain by holding an inquest after all. Padraic Lee will come to see it as a blessed release before long. I wonder if he did bring in the brandy. It doesn’t seem likely to me but then when you remember that he’d just heard his wife was in the hospital after a brawl he might’ve grabbed the first carrier bag he found and shoved in some things he thought she’d need. He must’ve been worried, not wanting to leave the two children alone and having to wait until this morni
ng to come over here.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d have checked the contents of the bag even if he hadn’t done so last night,’ Sister Joan said frowningly.

  ‘If you want my opinion, Sister,’ Constable Petrie said, pausing as they neared the van, ‘I reckon that he did put in that bottle of brandy maybe thinking that a hair of the dog that bit you is a good idea. He simply doesn’t want to think that he indirectly caused her death. Now I could make a fuss, start asking a lot of questions but where’s the good of it when the poor woman’s gone and Padraic’s left with two girls to rear?’

  He waited for her reluctant agreement, wished her good day, got back into the police car and drove away.

  He was right of course, she argued with herself. It would be needlessly cruel to pursue the details of what had clearly been an accident. Madge had woken up and groped in the carrier bag, found the brandy and drained the bottle deeply. Already hungover and dehydrated she had reacted immediately to what proved a fatal dose.

  Suddenly she was heading back into the hospital, pace brisk, chin at an angle that her friends would have recognized as stubborn.

  She headed for the stairs, a quick glance around the reception area having assured her that both Dr Geeson and Padraic were nowhere in sight. The latter would be making the inevitable sad arrangements that attended any death; the former had probably gone to catch up on his sleep.

  Sister Williams was in the surgical ward, chatting to one of the patients. She excused herself as Sister Joan came in and hurried up to the desk.

  ‘Is there something I can do for you, Sister?’ she asked.

  ‘I wondered if I might collect Mrs Lee’s effects on Padraic’s behalf,’ Sister Joan said. ‘It’s always so upsetting having to do that when someone’s just died. He’s dealing with the almoner at the moment.’

  ‘They’re still in the cubicle,’ Sister Williams said promptly. ‘The clothes she was actually wearing when she was brought in will be in the laundry now but the carrier bag is there.’

  ‘It must’ve been a dreadful shock when she was found,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘I ought to be getting used to it by now.’ Ceri Williams lowered her voice. ‘I mean very sick people do come into hospital and die, don’t they? I know that in my head but it’s awfully upsetting when it happens.’

  ‘And unexpectedly,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Lee was very drunk when she was brought in last night so Sister Collet said.’

  ‘You were off duty?’

  ‘Yes. I took over from Sister Collet this morning at ten,’ Ceri Williams said. ‘She told me that Mrs Lee was recovering from a binge in one of our side wards — cubicles really. I was to look in from time to time to make sure she was all right, but Sister Collet said that drunks were usually best left to sleep it off.’

  ‘And then Sister Collet went off duty?’

  ‘We overlap in the duty roster.’ Ceri Williams explained. ‘One comes on at ten — that was me this morning and the one she’s relieving goes off at eleven, and so on. It gives the one going off duty plenty of time to bring the incoming nurse up to date and have a final look over the patients.’

  ‘Which Sister Collet did?’

  ‘She had to go over to the children’s unit with a message,’ Ceri Williams said. ‘She told me to wait until she got back so we could go round together. So it was past eleven when we went round. To be absolutely accurate it wasn’t me who found Mrs Lee. I was just behind Sister Collet when she went into the cubicle. Poor Mrs Lee was half off the bed. She must’ve had the convulsion and threshed about for a minute or two.’

  ‘You didn’t hear her?’

  Ceri Williams shook her head.

  ‘One of the patients wanted a cup of tea. It wasn’t strictly time for one but Sister Collet had just brewed up in the sluice so I went to get a cup. You can’t hear much with the kettle whistling. Would it have made any difference if I’d heard something? Oh, that’s just awful!’

  ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference at all,’ Sister Joan said. ‘One other thing: did you see the brandy bottle?’

  ‘Not straightaway. It had rolled under the bed. It was caught up in the bedcovers and they were slipping down the side. There was brandy spilt all over the sheets and the floor. She must’ve grabbed it out of the carrier bag. One of the headsquares in the carrier was on the floor too.’

  ‘Well, I’ll take the carrier bag down to Padraic Lee,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Which cubicle is it in? I can sign for it of course.’

  ‘In Side Ward B,’ Ceri Williams said. ‘We had to clean up the place once Dr Geeson had been and she was taken to the mortuary, but it still stinks of brandy. Do you mind going and getting it yourself? I’m not really supposed to spend too much time away from the main ward.’

  ‘Fine. See you in a minute.’

  The side ward was a three-walled space with a white curtain providing the fourth wall. A bedstead with a flat mattress and two pillows on it, a small white locker and a chair comprised the entire furnishings. Sister Joan sniffed but only the acrid scent of strong disinfectant reached her nostrils. The carrier bag stood in the corner. She picked it up, hesitated and returned to the ward.

  ‘I’ll take this down to Padraic. I’d better sign for it, though I haven’t looked inside.’

  ‘Sign here.’ Ceri Williams proffered a notebook. ‘We didn’t look inside ourselves. Just put back the headsquare, that’s all. It seems so heartless to start going through a dead person’s belongings when they’re only just gone.’

  ‘I know what you mean. What happened to the brandy bottle by the way?’ Ceri Williams looked at her blankly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Someone must’ve picked it up. It wasn’t me because I ran to alert Dr Geeson.’

  ‘Who was off duty,’ Sister Joan reminded her.

  ‘Yes, but he’d told Sister Collet to call him if Mrs Lee needed anything. So Sister Collet sent me over to the staff quarters to get him.’

  ‘Who was on duty?’

  ‘Dr Meredith was but he was down in casualty. The trouble is that we’re so short of staff that we’re all kept perpetually on the move. Mrs Lee was Dr Geeson’s patient anyway.’

  ‘And by the time you got back the bottle wasn’t here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ceri Williams said. ‘Yes, it must’ve been because I remember Sister Collet showing it to him, but I don’t know what happened to it after that. It was only an ordinary bottle of brandy with a bit of liquid dribbling out of it. Sister Collet must’ve washed it or thrown it out. I was sent down to the mortuary with the body. Dr Geeson said it was all good experience for a student nurse.’

  ‘And when you got back to the ward?’

  ‘Sister Collet was cleaning up. It was awfully nice of her because officially she was off duty. I took over and finished doing the floor. Sister, is anything wrong? All these questions—’

  ‘Probably not,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Oh, one more thing! Did you see the cap? The one that was on the bottle, I mean.’

  ‘It might’ve been in the carrier bag,’ Ceri Williams said. ‘There were things in the waste bin that I took out to the incinerator but not a bottle top.’

  ‘Thank you for your time.’ Sister Joan picked up the carrier bag again. ‘I’d better catch up Padraic before he leaves the premises.’

  In the main reception hall she met Padraic just emerging from an office further down the broad corridor. He still looked shell-shocked, she thought, his face tight with the emotion he refused to allow himself to reveal.

  ‘That’s the carrier bag!’ he showed a touch of animation as he saw it. ‘There never was a brandy bottle — never! in that bag, Sister. If there was then someone else put it there.’

  ‘Would you mind if I looked through the contents?’ she asked.

  ‘You help yourself, Sister. I’ll wait by your van if you don’t mind.’

  ‘My—? Oh heavens, I forgot your lorry was out of action,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Look, take the keys
and sit inside. Have a smoke. You look as if you need one. I won’t be very long, but I’ve a couple of things to do here before I leave.’

  The first one was to examine the contents of the carrier bag. They were exactly as Padraic had described, only poignant because the woman for whom they’d been intended was dead. There was nothing resembling a bottle top. Sister Joan put the various items back into the carrier bag and hurried out.

  The staff quarters occupied a corner of the forecourt, with entrances prudishly separate for the two sexes. Most of the permanent staff had their own homes outside the hospital premises but the staff quarters provided bedrooms where medical staff could snatch a few hours’ sleep, and a couple of common rooms.

  Sister Collet hadn’t retired to bed despite her night on duty. Sister Joan caught sight of her seated by a downstairs window, gazing out vacantly into the border of drooping roses that was pretending to be a garden. She had obviously had a bath. Her hair looked damp and was pulled back from her face and she’d slipped into a tracksuit.

  Sister Joan went in and tapped at the common-room door as she entered.

  ‘Sister Collet, forgive me for disturbing you—’ She stopped, shocked by the extreme pallor of the other’s face as she turned her head. ‘Are you all right, Sister Collet? You must be worn out after being on duty for so long!’

  ‘I’m overtired and can’t drop off easily,’ Tracy Collet said tonelessly. ‘I suppose I ought to go and talk to Mr Lee. I saw him walking across the forecourt a few minutes ago. The trouble is that I simply don’t know what to say. I was never very good with relatives.’

  ‘Padraic’s still trying to come to terms with what’s happened,’ Sister Joan said. ‘It was the greatest bad luck that Madge Lee got hold of a bottle of brandy in her condition, but I suppose alcoholics can be very cunning.’

  ‘When they’re hellbent on a drink, yes,’ Tracy Collet said.

  ‘Padraic swears that he never brought anything alcoholic in for his wife.’