Nursery Tea and Poison

by Anne Morice

  ‘And you say she doesn’t know yet?’

  ‘No, not a whisper and I rely on you not to breathe a word. I begged Pelham to leave it to me to find the right moment and he was only too happy to agree. Fortunately, there’s no hurry. They’ll be going back to the States quite soon and I think it will make it a tiny bit easier if they’re not actually on the spot.’

  ‘So they don’t plan to move in right away?’

  ‘Oh no, Jake still has a year of his lease to run and they can’t force him out if he doesn’t wish to go. Pelham talks about wanting the child to be born in this country, so I presume they’ll come over a month or two before it’s due and take a flat in London until the house is ready for them. It gives one a small breathing space.’

  ‘Furthermore, I’d give you even money that Lindy will talk him out of the whole scheme, once they’re back in America. From the way she spoke to me about the prospect of living at Chargrove I would expect her to put up quite a fight.’

  ‘Yes, maybe, but we can’t rely on that and what I must put my mind to now is finding some diplomatic way to prepare Primrose for the worst. Any contribution towards that end will be gratefully received.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The change in Lindy was immediately apparent. It was not that she grew up overnight, for her new fantasy life revealed just the same fundamental immaturity as the old one, but in this short space of time she developed from the child sprite to the child madonna, no longer prancing about with trills and gurgles, but moving among us with sad sweet smiles, in an aura of solemn tranquillity. She did not now perch on the floor, hugging her knees in the Peter Pan style, but sat demurely in the most comfortable armchair, a footstool at her feet and hands folded over a stomach which was still in the concave form, gravely accepting all the little attentions we bestowed on her. It was a good job Primrose was not present, having gone with Jake to an agricultural show in Warwickshire, or it might have penetrated even her miniature brain that something was afoot, and Robin, meeting Lindy for the first time, appeared quite awestruck.

  ‘There was nothing particularly immaculate about that conception,’ I reminded him, as we walked out into the park after tea on Friday.

  ‘No, I gather.’

  ‘And she’s only in her second month. It’s a bit soon to be playing the suffering heroine, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I do believe you’re jealous, Tessa!’

  ‘Me? Jealous of Lindy having a baby?’

  ‘No, jealous of Lindy snatching the star part from under your nose.’

  This remark being irrelevant, as well as untrue, I rapidly switched to another topic, asking whether he had received my letter. Most annoyingly, he had not, so I had to give him a verbal report on that and on the circumstances that had led to my writing it.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’ he asked when I had finished. ‘That you had recorded Nannie’s last words, I mean, and thought they might be significant?’

  ‘But I didn’t think so, Robin, that’s the whole point. Writing them down was purely a kind of instinctive reflex, but they seemed quite meaningless when I read them the next day. It’s only the fact that someone has now gone to the trouble of rifling my bag and removing that one item that makes me realise that it must be important in some way.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry. You know what the posts are like nowadays? It will probably be waiting for me when I get back. That is, if you remembered to put a stamp on.’

  ‘Certainly, I did. First class too, which is more than can be said for the other one.’

  ‘Which other one?’

  ‘Oh, there was a letter already in the box when I put mine in. In an airmail envelope.’

  ‘Unstamped?’

  ‘Not enough for America. I nearly went upstairs to get another one to add to it and then I thought: “What the hell? That’s one man who can certainly afford to pay at the other end.”’

  ‘Why? Was it addressed to a Rockefeller?’

  ‘No, to a doctor in Los Angeles. Lindy’s shrink, without a doubt.’

  ‘Well, he won’t have to pay a cent because it will be sent by surface mail. You might have thought of that. Too late now though, and in the meantime can you remember exactly what you wrote in yours, or shall we have to wait to find out?’

  ‘No. After writing it out three separate times, I should think you would find it engraved, like Calais, on my heart.’

  ‘Then I suggest that tomorrow morning you write it out once more for my benefit. We’ll find an excuse to go for a drive and study it in the privacy of some country lane. Do you suppose it was the reason for your room being searched?’

  ‘Hardly, since no one else knew of its existence.’

  ‘Plenty of people knew that you were the last person to see Nannie alive. They might have suspected you of making some record of the event.’

  ‘That would have been a very lucky shot, don’t you think? My theory is that someone may have been looking for her glasses, thinking I had appropriated them, possibly to produce as evidence when the time was ripe.’

  ‘And who, specifically, have you in mind?’

  ‘Oh, they’re all equal starters in that race. At least, to be fair, I suppose Primrose is the favourite, since her room is so close to mine and she never needs to account for her presence on the top floor, but any of the others could easily have found an excuse for being up there. Even Jake could have pretended to be looking for Primrose, and Mrs Thorne would only have needed a duster in her hand or the water carafe.’

  ‘Any chance that Mrs Thorne believed the vindictive old nurse to have been responsible for her child’s death and decided to get even by sprinkling poison on her porridge?’

  ‘Well, if you put it like that, I suppose there was nothing to stop her, but why wait for nearly twenty years? On the other hand Nannie was in the top bracket of the scandalmonger brigade, who made Mrs Thorne’s life such hell after the tragedy, so that could conceivably have festered into a kind of murderous resentment. What’s more, she might have had the mistaken idea of doing Serena a good turn by knocking off the old harridan.’

  ‘But you’re not convinced that either is a strong enough motive?’

  ‘No, and opportunity is nothing, on its own. There is really no reason why I shouldn’t bash you over the head with one of these lumps of wood we keep tripping over, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.’

  ‘I am so thankful to hear that. So having eliminated Mrs Thorne, who’s your fancy?’

  ‘Oh, Pelham, I suppose. Or maybe Pelham and Lindy as a team.’

  ‘Always assuming he’s an impostor?’

  ‘Yes, naturally.’

  ‘Which, if you’ll forgive me, I think you assume a little too lightly. It’s not all that simple to impersonate a dead man.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I think it could have been done. Let’s say that this Pelham, the one we know, is actually John Smith. He was a friend of the real Pelham and they used to go off to the wilds together, on fishing trips and so on. The real Pelham either dies or is bumped off by J. Smith, who then pinches his passport and other essentials and switches identities. Pelham is a bachelor, with no relatives in America, so it’s up to Smith to identify the remains and no reason why anyone in that remote place should doubt him. Any questions?’

  ‘Not on my own behalf, but Smith’s relations might want to hear a few more details when they learn of his death.’

  ‘I expect he’d cut loose from them years ago, perhaps when he did his first stint in a British gaol. Because he’s an Englishman too, don’t forget. That may have been what brought them together in the first place, two expatriates droning on about the Palladium and the Lords’ Tavern. John Smith could be an assumed name anyway.’

  ‘Almost bound to be, I should think. So, having acquired a new one, what next?’

  ‘He hops over to New York, joins up with his female accomplice, who has already acquired a passport in the name of Lindy Hargrave, as well as a fictitious backgr
ound of poor but honest farmers in the Middle West. They then take off on a world trip, proposing to dawdle along in easy stages until the dust has settled. Although it’s possible that they have no real intention of ever returning to America; much more likely to pick somewhere like South Africa or Australia, where nothing is known of either John Smith or Pelham Hargrave.’

  ‘Meanwhile, what do they live on?’

  ‘Pelham’s money, of course. He’s made a packet in real estate, quite apart from the family inheritance, so now his impersonator puts it around that he’s married and retired, and the banks in California and London have instructions to remit regular sums to their various foreign branches. I forgot to mention that John Smith had done his first stretch for forgery, but he’s become more proficient at it now. Any more questions?’

  ‘Two, but I’ll try you with the easier one first. Presumably, the ultimate object of this scheme was to establish himself as lord of Chargrove and either live there in great splendour or turn it to some profitable account, but do you seriously imagine they could get away with it? It’s one thing to carry off the sort of bluff you’ve described, but he’d run into all sorts of legal problems before he could step into Pelham’s shoes over here.’

  ‘I’m not sure that it was the ultimate object. I expect they kept it in mind as a possibility, and they came here to spy out the land, but you’ll have noticed that from the moment they got the general picture they’ve disclaimed all intention of settling here. So what had they got to lose? So long as they continued to pass themselves off as visiting relatives, who had popped in to say how do you do, and were never going to make any claim on Chargrove beyond what Pelham had already been receiving ever since Rupert’s death, it wouldn’t occur to anyone to demand proof of identity.’

  ‘Except Nannie, perhaps?’

  ‘Right, I’m sure John Smith must have heard about her from Pelham during those long chatty evenings in the log cabin, but he couldn’t have known for certain whether she was alive, or still had any of her wits about her. I’d guess it came as a sad blow to find the answer was yes to both, because if anyone knew Pelham, warts and all, and was unlikely to be fooled it was she. The only saver was that her sight was failing, so the first move was to pay her a joint visit, in which Lindy was to snatch her glasses while Smith/Pelham chatted her up. Once this was accomplished it was safe for him to spend hours with her in the nursery, while she did all the talking and he caught up with his own childhood. The big snag was that she wasn’t very hot on dates and apt to attribute quite recent events to the distant past and vice versa.’

  ‘Like the death of Alan Thorne?’

  ‘Right. He might have heard about that in a letter, as he afterwards claimed, but he couldn’t possibly have known it at first hand. There was another little anecdote too, concerning myself, although neither Serena nor I had any recollection of it. I think he’d seen the danger signals even before the spectacles were found, but that must have put an end to all his schemes because she was a smart old number and once she got a real good look at him the whole game could be up.’

  ‘So Nannie, plus specs, became a danger and had to be removed?’

  ‘With all possible speed. That very night, in fact. It’s a good theory, don’t you think?’

  ‘Not bad, although I don’t see how you reconcile it with the small point that he has now decided to settle at Chargrove. He must see what hazards it will lay him open to. Surely, the sensible course would be to cut his losses and move on?’

  ‘I daresay he will. It would never surprise me if he were to vanish again as soon as the case is officially closed and then write to say he’s changed his mind. Meanwhile, since it has now become public that the heir to Chargrove is only seven months away, which may well be the reason why Pelham strove so assiduously to keep Dr Soames away from Lindy’s bedside, he may feel that the clever thing would be to appear to modify his attitude to the ancestral home. Besides, nothing can be put into effect for another year and a lot can happen in that time. He may wish to leave the options open. Was that your last question?’

  ‘No, I have one more, and steady yourself because this is my ace. If you can piece all this together so smoothly, don’t you think other people, much more closely involved than yourself, might have had a go too?’

  ‘Oh, sure! Why not?’

  ‘Serena, for one?’

  ‘Yes, Serena, definitely. In fact, although she has never admitted it, I’d say that was her principle reason for inviting me here. I believe she had her suspicions about Pelham from the start. It worried her and she wanted an ally.’

  ‘Then can you explain why she hasn’t spoken up? Not a hint of a sign has she given you and furthermore you told me that every time you broached the subject she shied off it and talked of something else. So why? You’d think she’d be only too keen to get your unbiased opinion and, if it coincided with hers, so much the better. If Pelham’s a fraud, wouldn’t it be to her advantage to make it known?’

  ‘You’re so right,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Why didn’t I think of that before?’

  ‘Even if she’d begun by letting things slide,’ Robin went on, rubbing salt in the wound, ‘she would certainly take action now that he’s threatening to upset things for Primrose.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘However tiresome and boring she may find her, I’ve noticed that she’s very protective towards Primrose.’

  ‘Yes, she is. It’s partly guilt, I believe. She’s always trying to compensate for having neglected her as a baby, because she’s convinced that contributed to making her into the creep she is.’

  ‘So the set up is not quite so simple as you’d imagined?’

  ‘Too right.’

  ‘Pity!’

  ‘Are you gloating, by any chance, Robin?’

  ‘On the contrary, I always hate it when your theories fall apart. Frustration doesn’t become you. I hoped that by needling you a bit I’d inspire you to find the explanation.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I told him, ‘there’s one on the way. The trouble is, it’s one I’d prefer to be without. I’d better not tell you any more, otherwise you might feel duty bound to follow it up.’

  ‘Although you won’t hesitate to do so yourself, I daresay?’

  ‘If only to be proved wrong. Sometimes the best way to blot a thing out is to bring it into the open and look at it from all sides.’

  ‘It can sometimes be quite a good way of getting oneself blotted out too,’ Robin reminded me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  There was a thump on the door of the apricot box, which could only have been delivered by one powerful fist and, before I could pull myself together, Primrose marched in.

  ‘Saw your light on,’ she announced, plumping down on the stool. ‘Thought I’d look in and say goodnight.’

  ‘That was very civil of you.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. I’m never civil, as you jolly well know. Can’t be bothered. Fact is, I get the creeps up here at night. Keep thinking about . . . well . . . you know . . . can’t get used to her not being there any more. Always used to go in for a bit of a natter before I went to bed.’

  ‘She was pretty old, you know. She’d probably have dropped off the hook anyway, in a year or two.’

  ‘Oh, don’t give me all that drivel. I’m fed up with it. People ought to know it doesn’t make it any better.’

  ‘Did you go in and talk to her on the night she died?’

  ‘You know damn well I did, I told you so. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered if she’d said anything special. Something which might have given a clue to what was on her mind and so on.’

  ‘Yes, of course she did, she went on and on about how ill she felt and, like a clot, I didn’t take it seriously. I’ve told you already, if anyone’s to blame it’s me.’

  ‘Oh, stop it, Primrose! You can’t still be on that dreary old tack? It’s such rot.’

  ‘It bloody well isn’t, then. Can’t you understand? If only I’d g
ot hold of Richard . . . no, maybe not him . . . but . . .’

  ‘Why not Richard?’

  ‘I just wouldn’t have, that’s all, so mind you own b. I’d probably have got an ambulance and had her bunged straight into the hospital, where they’d have known how to bring her round. ’Stead of that, I just thought she was putting it on, to try and stop me going out.’

  ‘Why would she have been so keen to do that? It was a warm night and not all that late. Besides, you told me that you had a very pressing mission to perform?’

  ‘Oh, that wouldn’t have cut any ice with Nan. She didn’t really want to stop me doing things, but she couldn’t get it through her head that I was grown up. She still expected me to be in bed by nine o’clock with an apple and a cup of Ovaltine. Not that I minded particularly. At least it showed she cared, which was a damn sight more than anyone else did.’

  ‘Remove that mask of tragedy, Primrose, it doesn’t suit you. Any fool can see that your mother cares about you tremendously.’

  ‘Oh, baloney! You must be a frightful nit if you can’t see through that act. My mother’s always loathed the sight of me. She hated me when I was born because I wasn’t a boy, and then if I had to be a girl she’d have liked me to be the same sort as her, all frilly and feminine, instead of like my father. I mean, imagine calling me Primrose, for a start!’

  ‘I can’t see why that denotes ill will on her part. It’s quite a pretty name.’

  ‘I bet you’d never have chosen it for me though, and neither would I. I think it’s the most grotty name anyone could be stuck with. Anyway, Nan didn’t care a hoot what sex I was, or whether I was ugly or pretty or anything else. She loved me at first because I belonged to my father and then she just loved me for myself.’

  ‘And was it she who filled you up with all those silly tales about your mother?’

  ‘They aren’t silly tales. That just shows what a fat lot you know about it!’

  ‘Anyway, the sun will soon shine for you again, won’t it, Primrose? You’ll have Jake to tuck you up at nine o’clock with your Ovaltine now.’