As he had done with Margot, the inspector walked Bess to the door and opened it.
‘You’re going to a lot of trouble for a Nazi sympathiser who drowned,’ Bess said.
‘David Sutherland didn’t drown, Mrs Donnelly, he was murdered.’ Bess’s pulse quickened, but she felt neither concern, nor surprise. ‘The coroner thinks it was as long ago as New Year’s Eve.’ Unmoved by the news, Bess showed no emotion. ‘That doesn’t worry you?’
‘What? That Sutherland was murdered? Or that it was on New Year’s Eve?’
‘That he was murdered in the grounds of your hotel, after an argument with you.’
‘Not at all. Since it wasn’t me who murdered him, why would it? Besides, I wasn’t the only person Sutherland argued with. Sir Gerald Hawksley had more reason to kill Sutherland than I did.’ The inspector raised his eyebrows. ‘My father had a saying, which I’m sure you’ve heard many times. If you live by the sword, be prepared to die by the sword. David Sutherland was an evil man who lived very much by the sword. Perhaps he got what he deserved.’
Walking along the corridor, Bess could feel the inspector’s eyes on her back. Her legs felt as if they were made of cotton wool, but she walked with an even footfall, her pace steady, and her back straight. Once she was outside she slumped against the wall and shook uncontrollably. Sutherland murdered? Her head was spinning. That was what Henry meant when he said foul play. She thought she was going to faint and bent over. With her hands on her knees, to keep her balance, Bess began to breath slowly and deeply until she felt less lightheaded.
When she had regained her self-control, Bess walked from the police station to Mrs Crabbe’s Café on Market Street.
Margot jumped up as she entered. ‘Did he tell you that Sutherland was killed, murdered?’
‘Yes.’ Bess put her hands around the tea pot. It was still warm. She poured herself a cup and offered the rest to Margot.
She shook her head. ‘You have it. The thought of it makes me feel sick. My tummy’s like a coiled spring.’ Bess topped up her cup and added milk. ‘I wonder who it was,’ Margot said.
Bess’s brow puckered. It took her a minute to grasp what her sister was referring to. ‘I don’t know. McGann suspects me,’ Bess said. ‘I think this London copper does too.’
‘Why would that nice inspector suspect you? He doesn’t know about you and Sutherland does he?’
‘No. I told him less than I told Sergeant McGann at New Year. You didn’t say anything, did you?’
‘No! How could you even think I would?’
‘I’m sorry, Margot. Of course you wouldn’t. I don’t know why I even asked.’ Bess swallowed the last of the tepid tea and pulled a face. ‘I’m just sick and tired of hearing that damn man’s name. Frank and I worked so hard to make sure everything was perfect for the opening of the hotel on New Year’s Eve, and then Sutherland turned up and did his best to ruin it. Because he didn’t show his face again I thought we’d seen the last of him.’
‘Well you have now.’
‘Thanks for reminding me. We’ll probably see cancellations for Easter too, once the newspapers get hold of the story.’ Bess shook her head. ‘Frank will be devastated.’
‘I think he likes the hotel business as much as you do,’ Margot said.
‘He does.’ In spite of feeling angry, Bess laughed. ‘He’s in his element when we have children staying. He loves taking them to see the animals, leading them round the paddock on the pony, and letting them collect the eggs in the mornings.’ Emotion rose like a lump in Bess’s throat and she looked down and swallowed.
‘It’s so damn unfair. You’d have made a wonderful mother.’
‘It’s worse for Frank.’ Tears began to fall and Bess didn’t hold them back. ‘I came to terms with not having children a long time ago. Frank says he’s okay with it, but I know he’d love to be a father.’
‘He probably would. But he adores you, Bess. As long as he has you, he’s happy.’
‘That’s what he says, but it must be hard for him. He’s the one who would make a wonderful parent. He’s so patient with children, so understanding,’ Bess wiped her tears and put on a smile. ‘Right!’ She looked at her wristwatch. ‘It’s time we left. Your bus will be here soon.’
Margot leant across the table and put her hand on Bess’s hand, to stop her from getting up. ‘There’s no rush. Let’s talk. I’ll catch a later bus.’
‘We’ll have plenty of time to talk on Sunday, when you and Bill come to the hotel for lunch. We’ll find a quiet corner after church.’ Bess moved her hand from under Margot’s and looked at her watch again. ‘Good Lord, I’ve been out all morning; Frank will wonder where I’ve got to.’
Margot looked up at Bess, her eyes glossy with tears. ‘What is it, sweetheart?’ Bess asked. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’
Smiling through her tears, Margot said, ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘But that’s wonderful, Margot.’ Bess leapt out of her chair. ‘Come here,’ she said, pulling her sister to her feet and hugging her. ‘I’m so pleased for you, darling.’
‘Thank you, Bess. You’re the first person I’ve told.’
‘I hope you’ve told Bill,’ Bess joked.
Margot made an effort to laugh. ‘I have. And he’s walking around like the cat that got the cream. But,’ Margot said, sitting down, ‘I haven’t told Mam, Ena or Claire. So don’t say anything if you see them. I’ll call in and tell Mam on Sunday morning. And I’ll tell the girls after church. I wanted to tell you first, because I didn’t want it to be a shock. I know how much you’d have loved a child.’ Margot’s eyes filled again.
‘Shush! This is supposed to be one of the happiest times in your life. Don’t spoil it worrying about me. I shall just have to be the best aunt in the world.’
Margot laughed again. ‘I’m sure you will be. Sorry, I’m feeling emotional - or even more emotional.’ Bess squeezed Margot’s hand. ‘The doctor said it’s natural when you’re having a baby. Like morning sickness. He says that’s natural for the first three months.’
‘So, when can I expect to have a new niece, or nephew?’ Bess asked, counting the months on her fingers.
‘We think the end of September.’ Margot bit her bottom lip and blushed scarlet. ‘They say sleeping in a strange bed can do it.’
‘What? Did you conceive on New Year’s Eve?’
Margot giggled. ‘I know it wasn’t a romantic night, with everything that happened, but when I got to our room I was cold, and…’
‘I get the picture. There’s no need to go into detail,’ Bess said, laughing.
Bess paid Mrs Crabbe and followed Margot out of the café and round the corner into Church Street. ‘I’ll see you on Sunday,’ Margot said, kissing Bess goodbye as the bus came into view. ‘Give my love to Ena, but--’ Margot put her forefinger to her lips.
Bess shook her head. ‘Not a word, I promise.’
‘You can tell Frank, but you must swear him to secrecy.’ Bess nodded. ‘I don’t want him to be shocked when I tell the family on Sunday, bless him. But don’t tell anyone else,’ Margot repeated, excitedly. The bus pulled up in front of the two sisters. ‘Tell our Ena I’ll be at the hotel early, so the four of us - I hope Claire can make it - can have a proper natter.’
‘It’s Easter, don’t forget, so we’ll be going to church,’ Bess reminded Margot, above the noise of the bus’s idling engine.
‘Oh, and Bess,’ Margot shouted as she boarded, ‘make sure you and Frank get someone to cover you. It would be lovely if we could all sit down together for once, and have a proper Sunday dinner.’
‘I’ll ask Maeve to come in.’
‘That would be great!’ Margot waved out of the window as the bus pulled away from the kerb.
‘Congratulate Bill for me,’ Bess shouted. Margot put her thumbs up, and then blew her sister a kiss.
Bess had twenty minutes to wait for the bus that stopped at Foxden and Woodcote, and several other villages en route to Marke
t Harborough. She decided to do a little browsing in Kimpton Smith’s. Kimp’s - as it was known locally - began life as a draper and haberdasher. Now, although there was still rationing, it stocked everything from ladies clothes and lingerie - to household goods. Mrs Kimpton Smith also owned the second-hand furniture shop on the left of the main shop, and the gentlemen’s outfitters on the right. Together, the three outlets were the nearest thing the small market town of Lowarth had to a city department store.
During the last year Bess had spent very little money on herself. She needed a summer nightgown, but having to spend so much money on the hotel, she’d put it off and off until it was winter. Now the nights were warmer she could wait no longer and strode into Kimpton Smith’s with determination.
Once inside, instead of going up the grand stairway in the centre of the foyer to women’s wear, Bess followed the sign for the children’s department. She had no intention of buying anything for Margot and Bill’s baby today - it was much too soon - but her eyes were drawn to a stand displaying little dresses in pink and cream with smocking on the bodices. Next to the dresses were summer coats. Bess’s eyes settled on a pink coat with a Little Bo-Peep style hat. She moved on. More practical for an autumn baby were the vests and socks, bootees and mittens - and winceyette nightdresses. Bess picked one up and held it to her cheek. It was very soft, and very pretty.
‘Are you looking for anything in particular, Bess?’ Mrs Kimpton Smith asked, with her head in an inquisitive tilt and a knowing glint in her eyes.
‘Not really. I’ve just had news that a friend of mine in London is having a baby. I thought I’d buy something that was suitable for a girl or a boy, and post it to her.’
‘I have just the thing.’ Mrs Kimpton Smith bobbed down behind the counter. ‘These have just come in,’ she said, springing up and putting a white box with a silver stencil of a sleeping baby on the glass counter top. ‘They’re not cheap,’ she warned, lifting the lid, ‘but then you can’t put a price on quality, can you?’
Bess caught her breath. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you can’t.’
The shop owner laid three shawls on white tissue paper. One was pastel pink, one powder blue, and the third was a delicate shade of pale yellow. Bess picked up the yellow shawl. ‘I’ll take this one, please,’ she said, forcing herself not to show the emotion that was bubbling up inside her.
‘A wise choice,’ Mrs Kimpton Smith said, and summoned a shop assistant to take over from her. ‘Wrap this shawl for Mrs Donnelly. It’s a gift, which has to go in the post, so use the sturdiest brown paper,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Bess?’
‘Not today, but the mother-to-be is a very good friend, so I’ll be in again.’
‘I look forward to seeing you soon, then.’ And with that Mrs Kimpton Smith left the children’s department.
The assistant waited for the owner to leave the floor and turned to Bess. ‘Would you like it wrapped in tissue paper first? I’ll tie a bow round it too. It’ll look much prettier. I’ll wrap it in the strong paper afterwards, so it’ll be safe to post.’
‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’ Bess watched the girl fold the shawl carefully and wrap it in white tissue paper, before laying it in its box. She then took several sheets of tissue paper and some ribbon, wrapped the box, and tied a bow around it.
‘I’d like to show my husband before I send it, so I’ll parcel it up for posting when I get home.’
The shop assistant cut off a length of thick brown paper, folded it, and put it in a bag with the box containing the shawl. Bess thanked her, paid, and left the shop, all thoughts of a summer nightdress for herself forgotten.
Delighted for Margot and Bill, and pleased with the shawl, Bess skipped down High Street to the bus stop. ‘Miss Hawksley?’
‘Mrs Donnelly?’ Katherine Hawksley looked as shocked to see Bess, as Bess was to see her.
Henry had advised Bess to stay away from Katherine and Sir Gerald Hawksley, but he hadn’t taken into account that Lowarth was a small place and the bus that went to Foxden went to Kirby Marlow - and beyond - where Katherine Hawksley lived.
Katherine’s face was deathly white and she looked as if she had lost half her body weight since New Year’s Eve. ‘How are you, Miss Hawksley?’ Bess ask, expecting the girl to say she was suffering from some dreadful illness.
‘Fine, thank you,’ she said, in a voice that was no more than a whisper.
‘You don’t look fine, dear. Would you like me to take you home in a taxi? It won’t take me a minute to--’
‘No!’ Katherine Hawksley spat out the word so quickly that Bess stepped back, startled. She put up her hands to signal that she understood and was careful not to move. The girl lowered her head and began to tremble. ‘Thank you, but-- I--’
‘What is it?’ Bess asked.
Katherine looked up, her eyes darting left and right. ‘I’m sorry,’ she cried, backing away from Bess. ‘I really am so, so, sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ Bess put down her bags and caught hold of Katherine’s arm to stop her from falling off the kerb onto the busy main road. ‘If it’s New Year’s Eve you’re referring to, none of what happened was your fault.’
‘It was, ‘she said, nodding frantically. ‘Everything was my fault. If it hadn’t been for me, Daddy--’ The girl looked like a frightened animal. ‘I have to go.’ All of a sudden, as if it was the first time she had seen Bess, she said, haughtily, ‘Sergeant McGann has warned me about you. He said I was not to speak to you, Mrs Donnelly!’
Katherine looked up and down High Street, as if she was waiting for a break in the traffic before crossing. Instead she ran in front of an oncoming car. The car swerved to miss her, as she zigzagged across the busy thoroughfare, mounted the pavement and almost hit Bess. The driver of the car made a fist at Katherine, then turned to Bess and mouthed, I’m sorry. When the car drove off, Katherine Hawksley had vanished.
CHAPTER SIX
Bess boarded the bus shaking. She was still wobbly on her legs when she left the bus at Foxden. Walking down the lane a thought stopped her in her tracks. Had Katherine Hawksley run in front of the car on Lowarth High Street on purpose? If she had, was it her intention to kill herself, or was it a cry for help? Bess felt a shudder go through her and forced her legs to jog the rest of the way to the hotel.
In her haste to get home, impatient to tell Frank that she had seen Katherine Hawksley, how ill she looked, and that she had almost got herself killed, Bess had hurried past her mother’s cottage. It wasn’t until she was at the top of the drive that she remembered she’d promised Margot she would call and ask her mother to come up to the hotel for a family lunch on Sunday. ‘Damn,’ she said aloud. ‘I’ll have to go back later.’
Seeing Katherine Hawksley in such a state had taken the joy out of buying the shawl. But Bess was determined not to let it dampen the exciting news that her sister was going to have a baby. ‘Hello Maeve,’ she called, entering the hotel.
The receptionist gave Bess a welcoming smile. ‘Mrs Green’s in your office.’
‘Oh good. Is Frank back?’
‘Yes, he’s feeding the animals. He said he was going to clean out the stable. We have two families booked in for the Easter Holiday and Mr Donnelly said if the weather is good the children will want to ride the pony.’
Bess laughed. ‘He’ll have them out there with the animals whatever the weather. I don’t suppose he’s had anything to eat?’ Maeve shook her head. ‘He forgets to eat himself, but he never forgets to feed the pony.’ Bess got as far as the door to the office and stopped. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. Would you put this box somewhere out of sight?’ She whispered, handing Maeve the parcel containing the shawl. ‘It’s a surprise for Frank, but I don’t want him to see it yet.’ Bess felt an embarrassed flush creep up her neck. She wasn’t a good liar, even when she was telling a white one.
‘I’ll put it in the bottom drawer.’ Maeve opened the deep drawer on the right-hand side of t
he desk and laid the parcel in it. ‘Jack’s coming in early; just tell him where it is when you want it.’ She looked at her wristwatch. ‘I’ll be leaving shortly, if it’s still all right?’
‘Of course,’ Bess said, looking puzzled. Maeve didn’t usually take time off without giving her plenty of warning.
‘Inspector Masters wants to interview me,’ she said. ‘He wanted to come here, but I thought it would be better for the guests if I went into the police station.’
Bess felt her cheeks colour. Maeve’s interview had gone clean out of her mind. ‘Thanks for reminding me. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. If Jack hasn’t arrived to take over from you by the time you need to leave, give me a shout and I’ll cover until he gets here. If I don’t see you before you go, good luck.’ Bess opened the door to the office, but before she went in she looked back at Maeve. ‘Thank you for being so considerate.’
‘Who’s considerate?’ Ena asked, jumping up from the seat under the window and throwing her arms around her sister.
‘Maeve,’ Bess said, hugging Ena. ‘She’s…’
‘What? You’re looking all mysterious. What did she do that’s considerate?’
They walked across the room together, Ena sat down in the window seat and Bess walked over to the table where the electric kettle was kept.
‘Well?’ Ena said.
‘It’s nothing really.’ Bess picked up the kettle and gave it a shake. It was full, so she switched it on. ‘It’s just that the inspector from London wanted to interview her here, but Maeve said no because of the guests. That’s what I meant by considerate. It’s uncanny, but she thinks like me. I mean, about things to do with the hotel. She considers the guests in the same way that I do. Guests come first, kind of thing.’ Bess laughed. ‘She could run this place with her eyes closed. I’m not sure I like that,’ she said, putting on a frown and pretending to be worried. ‘Seriously though, she’s very efficient. I don’t know what I’d do without her. If she ever leaves I’ll have a hard job finding a replacement.’
Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) Page 7