‘Derek works for a newspaper.’ Realising this made Derek sound like a fiendish and insensitive opportunist, I added, ‘Perhaps it was an instinctive reaction.’
Before I had time to clarify, the constable asked, ‘Is he a reporter, or a photographer for the paper?’
‘Neither. He works in the library.’ It was my turn to ask a question. ‘Constable, where are my friends?’
‘Mrs Murchison is being taken care of by my sergeant’s wife, Mrs Hudson. At Dr McCracken’s suggestion, she will rest and be helped with her state of shock until the doctor can examine her. Miss Rufus and the gentlemen are in the Sunday school tea room.’
‘And our husbands?’ Mrs Porter asked. ‘Mrs Hood and I should like to return to my home.’
‘Mr Porter and Mr Hood have offered their services to Sergeant Hudson.’
Mrs Porter rose. ‘I suppose I ought to have known they would be needed.’
The constable once more turned to me. ‘Sergeant Hudson is arranging for a room to be reserved above the Co-operative Society store. Statements will be taken from those in the vicinity of the accident. Would you please make yourself available there, along with your friends?’
That made the decision for me, about where I must go next. He had not asked the most important question, and so I volunteered the information. ‘When I saw Mr Murchison’s wound, I applied pressure, to try and stop the bleeding.’ Mother gave me a nudge to shut up. ‘Mother has my gloves. They are covered in his blood.’
‘My daughter spent five years nursing,’ Mother explained. ‘You have an evidence bag, Constable?’ He looked at her blankly. ‘Then I shall give the gloves to your inspector.’
‘We have no inspector in Haworth. It’s a sergeant’s posting.’
‘Sergeant then,’ Mrs Porter said. ‘Thank you, Constable Briggs.’
He acknowledged his dismissal.
Mother spoke to Mrs Porter in a low voice and they came to some agreement.
Mother put her arm around Harriet. ‘Come on, Harriet. We’re going to take you back to Laverall Hall. You need a lie down in a warm bed with a hot water bottle.’ She looked at me. ‘Do what you need to do, Kate. Harriet will be safe with us.’ Then in a low voice she added, ‘I’m surprised at you. Never answer a question that has not been asked.’
‘I could hardly withhold evidence.’
She smiled. ‘Don’t worry about Harriet. Think of yourself now.’
I knew Harriet would be well looked after, but I also felt responsible towards those in my party, as the constable had put it. Carine was in the company of strangers and may be in no fit state to deal what was to come. My three other companions, Edward, Rita and Derek, who must all at some point have wished Tobias dead, would be feeling wretched now that he had died in such a dreadful manner.
Why had he chosen to use a swordstick as an aid, and how could he possibly have mortally wounded himself with the wretched thing?
I wanted to escape to Laverall Hall with my mother and Harriet, but the constable had left me no choice. Now I must find out more about what had happened, and give comfort to my friends. After all, I was the one who had decided we should forgo all other suggestions and plump for Ponden Hall and this momentous event in Haworth.
Mrs Porter gave me a tight smile. ‘It’s all right Kate, I can drive our car and take your mother and Harriet back to the hall.’
Mother and I exchanged a glance. She drew Harriet close to her. Harriet did not resist. I knew that she would be better off staying at Laverall Hall. ‘Go with your Auntie Ginny, Harriet. She’ll take good care of you. I’ll come for you just as soon as I can.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
View Finder
The Haworth Co-operative Society took up a long stretch of the main street, with its separate shops: butcher’s, bakery and general store. Alongside the shops, a separate door stood open, with stone steps leading to the floor above. This must be where the police were taking statements. Now that Harriet was safely with my mother and Mrs Porter, I could think more clearly about the horror of what had just happened, and how and why.
As I entered the building, Derek was on his way down. He looked pale and gaunt. His eyes were unusually bright. Something dreadful, and yet exciting, had happened.
‘Kate, you’ll make that constable listen. He won’t say what will happen to my film, or when I’ll get my camera back.’
‘Be patient. He’ll follow procedures. Your photographs of the scene could be useful.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Did you see anything, Derek? Did you see what happened?’
He ran his hands through his hair. ‘No! I wish I had. I wasn’t taking notice of any of us. I was watching the presentation and listening to the speeches.’
‘We all were.’
‘I saw Carine go, looking a bit queasy, and I didn’t even offer to go with her. I wanted to be able to write an eye-witness account of the parsonage event.’ He slapped his forehead. ‘I’ll be a laughing stock at the newspaper.’
‘You were standing behind me. When you get back to Ponden, would you do a diagram of who was on either side of you, and who was roundabout?’
‘You’re investigating aren’t you?’
‘I’m simply anticipating what will be needed when the detectives step in.’
‘I was just asked that very question. I couldn’t remember who was where. It was so crowded. There was a bit of pushing and shoving, people trying to see what was going on. I saw Elisa, and a chap with her. They were near us.’
‘Give yourself time. It’s a shock for all of us. When you’re alone, and feeling calm, you might remember.’
Something else popped into my head. It was the thought that Tobias Murchison ought not to have come to Stanbury. He should certainly not have stayed at Ponden Hall and risked a hostile reception. It would be just like him to imagine that he had changed over the years and would not be recognised. Or perhaps he thought that Elisa’s sister had kept their affair a secret.
‘Derek, in the Kardomah, when we were deciding on a destination –’
‘You were deciding.’
‘Did you ever find out who else suggested Ponden Hall?’
‘No, I forgot all about it. Why?’
‘No particular reason.’
Of course, I did have a particular reason for asking. Harriet had said that Tobias expected to be staying at the Black Bull, yet he had fallen in with going to Ponden Hall. There had been one other suggestion, ‘Ponden, Stanbury’. I had thought it might be Carine’s handwriting. Yet the person most likely to know of Tobias’s past sins was his comrade and former pal, Edward Chester.
At that moment a woman in a blue hat came down the stairs. We waited until she had gone.
‘The police officer wanted to know what kind of man he was. I told him the truth.’
‘And did you tell the officer that you are in love with Carine?’
He blushed. ‘Well, no.’
‘You probably didn’t need to. It must have been written all over your face.’ For a moment it looked as if he might stamp his foot and walk away. I remembered that he is still so young, and felt a kind of pity for him. ‘Be careful, Derek.’
‘I have nothing to be careful about. In fact, I’m going to be very objective and telephone in a report to my newspaper. I don’t suppose you can give me change for the telephone?’
‘No I can’t. If you telephone in – and you must seek police permission first – give the briefest details and leave it to someone with more experience.’
He frowned. ‘Why, when I’m on the spot?’
‘Go back to Ponden Hall, lie down in a dark room and try and come up with your diagram of the scene.’
The room above the Co-operative Store looked as if it might be used as a dance hall or a meeting room. Three trestle tables had been set in a row, two were manned.
To my surprise, I saw that my father sat behind one of the tables, speaking to a young man in baggy trousers and tweed jacket.
Dad caught my eye and gave the slightest of nods towards the nearby table. Naturally, it would not be quite the thing for me to give a witness statement to my own father.
Behind the other table was the constable I had talked to in the parsonage garden. He was interviewing Elisa Varey.
I waited my turn.
As she left, Elisa gave me a nod and indicated that she would wait for me.
After a polite enquiry after Harriet’s welfare, and a thank you for my co-operation, he began his questions.
‘Mrs Shackleton, it has been suggested that Mr Murchison fell on his sword. As someone close to him, would you regard that as a possibility?’
It was not a good question. Close might mean personally close, as in well-acquainted, and having an insight into Tobias’s mental state. It might also mean physically close, as in near enough to stab him.
‘I suppose that is a possibility, officer, but he would have had to stoop to lean onto the blade. Unless his stick retracts, it would have struck the people in front. We were in such a crush. My only thought, when I realised what had happened, was to stop the bleeding. But he was beyond help.’
‘Why was that?’
‘The blade had pierced his heart.’
Now that I gathered these images and put these experiences into words, I knew that if Tobias had turned his swordstick upside down and fallen onto it, the chances of the blade piercing his heart would have been slim. I tried to picture how a person might aim for his own heart, especially in such a crowd, but the image would not come. If Tobias had fallen, or been stabbed by his own secret sword, it would probably have caught him under the chin.
I waited until Constable Briggs had finished writing.
‘There’s something else.’
‘Go on.’
‘When I saw the swordstick on the ground, the blade was shining and unmarked. No one could have stabbed himself in his own heart, withdrawn the blade, and wiped it clean.’
‘You are very observant, Mrs Shackleton.’
He made this sound more like an accusation than a compliment. I indicated my dad, seated at the nearby table. ‘Then I’m my father’s daughter.’
Elisa Varey was waiting for me in the street.
‘Will I show you the way back along the road, Mrs Shackleton?’
‘You mean to walk?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m going to take the bus. If we walk along the road, we’d risk being run down by departing motorists.’ The truth was that I could not face a two-mile walk. I also needed to talk to Edward and Rita. I felt sure they must be back at Ponden Hall by now.
‘I’ll show you to the bus stop. I suppose you’re feeling the loss of your friend.’
Was she testing me? I thought of the conversation between Mrs Varey and Elisa that Harriet had reported to me. Mrs Varey had retreated to her box bed, unable to bring herself to look upon the man she blamed for her elder daughter’s death. If I were to find out anything from the Vareys, they would need to know that I was not enquiring out of compassion for Tobias.
‘It’s a dreadful thing to have happened, and I’m sorry for his death, but Tobias Murchison wasn’t my friend.’
By the time we reached the stop, the bus was about to leave. I took Elisa’s arm. ‘Come on, take the bus with me.’ I had change in my pocket and paid our fares.
Elisa knew the driver. They talked together, in low voices, while I went to sit down. When the bus set off, she joined me. We were silent for the first part of the journey. Yet there is something about sitting side by side on a bus that eventually may lead to chatting. If I began by asking questions, she would clam up.
Eventually, Elisa said, ‘I came into Haworth on a cart with Timmy Preston. Timmy works for us on the farm. He was supposed to be taking me back.’
‘Did you miss each other?’
‘No. He came to find me, to tell me. He has been enrolled as a special constable, him and a few others.’
‘I wonder what they will be doing as special constables?’ I said.
She shook her head. ‘Search me. When a child was lost, everyone searched. We had no need for specials. They’re full of self-importance when they take that on, swear an oath and think themselves sheriffs of Nottingham.’
I smiled. ‘You don’t have such a great opinion of them.’
‘Oh, they’ll do what’s expected.’
‘The local sergeant and constable sprang into action quickly enough.’
‘That’s true. And I suppose you know about these things. I heard your parents are staying with the Porters and that your father is in the force.’
‘Yes.’ Now I understood. She knew a special constable, I knew the top brass. Was it too strange to imagine that she was trying to enrol me as her informant? We verged on dangerous ground, and for the rest of the journey said little.
I looked out of the window. The sun had retreated. Buildings took on a dark and brooding appearance. The stretches of land between seemed barren and empty. After our long silence, Elisa asked me, ‘How did he die? I was too far away to see.’
‘Even though I was so close that he fell on me, I can’t say for certain.’ She would already know, or soon find out from Timmy Preston, that Tobias was stabbed. It would be better to tell her what would become common knowledge. ‘He was wounded through the heart.’
But perhaps you already know that, I thought. You were close enough to kill.
She might well have been speaking to herself, her voice was so low. ‘His heart?’
The bus driver, who took little notice of official stops, dropped us at the end of Ponden Lane. Elisa had fallen into silence. We walked together, passing the mill, keeping pace along the side of the reservoir.
A change swept through her. It was not simply that she grew quiet, but as if the core of her being had shut down. I do not know how to describe the feeling of walking beside her. Some impulse made me take her arm. The thought came to me that if she was a candle, she would have been snuffed out.
The feeling lasted until we had passed the reservoir. She ought not to live here, if this was the effect that the stretch of water had. ‘Is it always like this for you?’ I asked.
‘Not always. You have heard the story, I suppose?’
‘Mr Porter told me about a young woman who died here. Am I right in thinking she was your sister?’
‘Yes, my big sister. Picotee.’
‘What a beautiful name.’
‘She was a beautiful sister. And it would never have happened if he hadn’t got her in the family way and then left her. She shouldn’t have been hoisting herself over that damn wall.’ The anger felt raw, as if all this happened only yesterday.
‘And the man?’
‘She never told us his last name, only that he was called Toby. I teased her. I said his surname must be Jug.’
‘It was Tobias Murchison?’
‘Yes.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘He was a cyclist in those days. I found out his name a long while ago. One of the old Keighley Cycling Club members came here for tea. He told me his name.’
‘Is that why your mother has not put in an appearance? She and I exchanged letters. I expected to meet her.’
‘I wrote the letters.’
‘If you don’t mind my saying, you seem to do everything.’
She shrugged. ‘I have help from women in the village. Mam sometimes needs to keep to her bed. My brother takes care of the sheep, and we have Timmy, when he is not commandeered by the police.’
We were almost back at the Hall when I released her arm. She squeezed my hand in a brief acknowledgement.
‘Elisa, perhaps someday you will be able to move away from here.’
She shook her head. ‘Not now. It’s fate, though once the Vareys had a fine name. We held land, farms, woods and a grand house.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Across the border, not so far off. I went to look once.’ We had reached the courtyard. Elis
a said quietly, ‘And before you think it – or if you do think it – I didn’t kill that man.’ She stretched out her hands. ‘Do you see blood?’ She wore no gloves, and nor did I. Mine had been covered with Tobias’s blood when I tried to stem the flow.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Camper
Edward and Derek were seated on the stone bench in the courtyard. Derek was nursing a colourful woollen cloak. He raised it towards Elisa, who ignored him.
Edward stood. ‘Kate, I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.’ He turned to Elisa. ‘Elisa, is there anything I can do to help you?’
Elisa paused and looked at him. ‘A certain account has been settled.’ She strode to the door.
Derek jumped up and followed her. ‘Elisa, excuse me, Elisa, the thing is my gran’s cloak needs washing. There is a stain.’
Elisa looked at the cloak. ‘You can’t easily wash that.’
‘The stain is only in one place.’
‘What’s the stain?’
‘Blood. We covered Mr Murchison with it.’
‘His blood?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wash it yerself.’
‘But you’ll have to tell me what to do. Is it salt you put on it? Gran will go mad with me.’
His words were lost to us as he followed Elisa into the house.
Edward sat down again.
The afternoon stillness was broken only by the sound of the bees in the kitchen garden behind us.
Edward lit a cigarette. ‘I can’t believe this has happened. I don’t understand how Toby and I could come through what we did, those four years of death and injury and mayhem, only for him to die on a sunny Saturday near a parsonage garden.’
‘It’s shocking. And poor Carine, I can’t imagine how she’s feeling.’
He lowered his head. ‘She was in the refreshment room in the Sunday school when we carried in Toby’s body. I’ll never forget the look on her face, the pain, and it was as if I wasn’t there.’
‘What happened?’
‘The police sergeant’s wife, Mrs Hudson, she’s a very motherly sort of woman, took Carine under her wing. The doctor said she should be taken somewhere to rest. He would visit her later. She’s at the police house on Mill Hey.’
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