by Amy Myers
‘Why should she kill him – and what did she do with the body?’ Peter asked. ‘Did she have Joe Baker’s help too?’
‘There’s no need for mockery,’ she said crossly. ‘It’s a viable idea.’
‘On paper, my dear Watson. But nothing to support it. After all, there are many drawings of Alwyn by Elfie. Have you seen any of Roy?’
‘One or two,’ she muttered.
‘As there were of the other Fernbourne Five members. No, I think you should admit defeat on this one.’
She was forced to see his point. ‘Then who?’
‘We end as we began. Gavin.’
‘Motive?’ she asked dispiritedly.
‘Not known unless you consider that blotting the Fernbourne Five’s copybook by rape is sufficient reason?’
‘I don’t.’ She hesitated. ‘And there’s Clemence herself. No motive known.’
‘Agreed.’
‘So if they were all there together, as Alice says, it hardly seems likely that Roy was murdered there.’
‘Unless,’ Peter said gently, ‘he was murdered by Alice’s “all”.’
The manor looked perfectly normal in the daylight. Georgia had not been here since Bonfire Night a week earlier, and she had half expected it would retain the creepiness and menace that they had encountered that night. It didn’t, of course. Their footsteps crunched over wet gravel, and the grounds were grey due only to the rain and cloud. Nevertheless they were both on edge. She, Luke and Peter had talked to the police, who were still considering charging Sean Hunt for assault, and this time Matthew had remained remarkably quiet. Peter had been eager to come at first, as there was something he wanted to ask Janie, but she couldn’t be here, and he had decided to leave the field clear for Georgia.
It had been Molly’s suggestion that they meet here, rather than at Luke’s office, perhaps because this would be her home ground. She ushered them into the living room with the large sofas.
‘Are you serious? Roy, murdered?’ Molly looked genuinely taken aback.
‘Very serious,’ Georgia replied. ‘We wanted your input on it.’ She and Peter were at stalemate again. Alice, when asked on the telephone about the day of Roy’s death, had been remarkably clear. Clemence had not been at Shaw Cottage that afternoon and even though Alice herself had left at six p.m. there was no way Clemence could have arrived there, with or without murder in her mind. She was suffering from chicken pox and was staying with her parents until she was over it.
So if, Georgia reasoned to her relief, they had ‘all’ been involved in his death, as Peter’s way-out suggestion had it, at least Clemence was off the hook.
‘It sounds unbelievable that Roy could have been murdered,’ Molly said frankly. ‘And you admit yourselves there’s no evidence.’
‘You could talk to Betty about it.’
‘No, thanks,’ Molly said promptly. ‘It’s true she occasionally burbles about brother William having persuaded their parents that the remains were Roy’s rather too easily, but I don’t think she ever thought as far as his being bumped off here. Have you talked to Clemence?’
‘She warned us off this line.’
Molly looked troubled, and echoed Georgia’s own thinking. ‘She’s afraid Gavin will get drawn in. You do realize that Matthew is not only a client and chair of the board but a friend of mine?’ she asked. ‘And that you’re telling me his father is a likely candidate for murdering Roy? Sorry, way out of my jurisdiction.’
‘Can you prove he isn’t?’ Georgia asked.
‘Why should I?’ Her tone wasn’t challenging, merely enquiring. ‘Now let’s get this straight. I thought I was here to talk about books and contracts with Luke.’
It had been Luke who had initiated this meeting at the manor. Georgia had at first been undecided how far to confide in him over Roy, but had then realized that it was too late to separate their interests now.
‘I’ve two courses,’ Luke had decided. ‘Either I publish nothing by this lot of jokers and steer clear of trouble, or I want the lot. I’m not playing by their rules any longer. I’ll tell Molly so, and to hell with the trustees. I’m a publisher not a private eye. She can stop pussyfooting around.’
‘I love you when you get this way,’ Georgia had said admiringly. ‘Where does that leave Marsh and Daughter?’
‘Marsh and Daughter, my darling, doesn’t yet have a story to sell me.’
She had fallen into that one with a loud clang. Now, in the cold light of day, she was hoping that her presence with Luke might provide just the thorn in Molly’s side that could help them both.
‘Suits me,’ Luke replied to what was virtually an ultimatum from Molly. ‘It’s mid-November, you’re opening in June. I’m prepared to make you another offer for reprinting Verses to Dorinda, A Mourning in Spring, The Woods Beyond the Stream and The Flight of the Soul. Provided, naturally, they are free of copyright problems. With time passing, I need yea or nay from you by the weekend.’
‘There are plenty of other publishers …’ Molly began.
Luke laughed. ‘Don’t give me that, Molly. I’ve been in the game too long. There aren’t and you know it. Not to do all of them.’
‘What about my biography?’ Molly countered.
‘That depends on its contents.’
‘All right,’ Molly accepted wearily. ‘I get the picture. We’ll negotiate everything else and either keep the biography on ice or …’
When she stopped, Georgia was appalled. ‘You’re unlikely to find another publisher.’
‘Ah,’ Molly shrugged, ‘but there is such a thing as self-publishing. And if – and it’s a very big if indeed – your cock-eyed theory has any truth in it, the board could rush out a biography in advance of you, Luke, assuming you publish the Marsh and Daughter book.’
‘A threat?’ Luke looked taken aback.
‘Once it would have been. Now,’ Molly said frankly, ‘I’m not so sure. I’m a trustee but I’m also a Sandford and independently minded. Not quite so many vested interests as my co-trustees. Tell me again how this murder theory goes.’
Georgia hesitated. Was she just providing fodder to be shot down? She decided to take the risk and recounted it carefully.
‘So, if your information is right, Alwyn and Birdie were on duty in the evening. Gavin and Elfie were around either at the cottage or at the manor and might have given Roy a lift to the station. Alice was around some of the time. But do we know Alwyn and Birdie were on duty, or are you saying they bumped Roy off before they left? From what you say,’ Molly continued, ‘no one had any known motive except …’
Georgia saw where this was heading.
‘Joe Baker,’ Molly finished as Georgia had predicted, ‘who drove Roy from the station to the cottage. You know what I’d do? Clemence isn’t going to squawk so go to see Birdie.’
‘In what capacity?’ Georgia asked her. ‘As Alwyn’s sister, as the woman who loved Roy, or with regard to Alwyn’s estate, which she’s handed over to the trustees? You weren’t too clear about that, but I take it that’s the case?’
Molly reddened. ‘I didn’t see why the board wanted it. Apparently Elfie maintained it was only fair as the trust were offering to pay Birdie’s fees at the home. She went into the home a year or two before Elfie died.’
It was interesting, but Georgia let it pass. ‘What did Elfie get under Alwyn’s will?’
‘Everything went to Birdie, I think, not that there was much.’
‘Despite the great love affair?’
A frown, as if this were the first time Molly had thought this odd. ‘They’d parted by then.’
Weak, Georgia thought.
How many of the answers they were looking for were locked up inside Birdie’s mind, Georgia wondered? Even if that mind was still razor sharp, nevertheless her body was frail, and Georgia realized she must take care with any questions they put to her – especially about Roy.
‘By the pricking of my thumbs/Something wicked this way comes,’ Peter
had declared last night. Far from abandoning his belief that Roy had been murdered, it had been strengthened after Georgia had told him the outcome of the meeting with Molly. She had found him in his room half-asleep, watching television when she called in to see him, but he had immediately jerked awake again, demanding to be told all.
‘You know, Georgia,’ he had said when she had finished, ‘that sense of personal involvement is getting stronger. Now Molly’s bound into it too, and she’s two generations down from Roy.’
‘Sean Hunt thinks it’s personal enough, especially as regards me,’ Georgia said ruefully. ‘And so for different reasons do Emma, Nick and Adam.’
‘The power isn’t coming from them. It’s coming from Matthew Hunt, from Ted Laycock, and Christopher Atkin, first generation down.’
‘And Janie and Clemence?’
‘The former a bystander, and Clemence – well, let’s hope she is too.’
‘You do believe she is?’ Georgia had a sudden fear.
‘I want to,’ Peter answered. ‘Very much.’
Georgia had decided to visit Birdie alone, without telling Christopher first, but either by coincidence or design he was once again there when she arrived. The home had probably notified him when Georgia rang them as a courtesy to tell Birdie she was coming. Fortunately he seemed happy to stay in the background as usual, but it was a sign that Matthew’s hand was ever present.
‘I wanted to talk to you about Roy, your love for him, and his death,’ she began carefully. ‘Do you mind, because I can leave it for another day, if you don’t feel up to it?’
Birdie reacted quickly. ‘Death? What about it?’
‘Can I talk about it?’ Georgia asked Christopher.
‘It pleases Mother to talk,’ he replied stolidly, sitting back with folded arms as though adjudicating on the proceedings. He and Janie made excellent aides in their different ways, Janie fluttering around solicitously while Christopher worked in the background, oiling the wheels of his mother’s life.
‘It was a tragic death for Roy to die in that air raid,’ Georgia began tentatively. ‘Especially since he was only there by chance. Could you tell me a little about him?’
If she’d hoped this would open the floodgates she was wrong.
Birdie nestled under her soft blanket. ‘Handsome, good looking,’ she began in a monotone.
‘Did you go out together, dancing, or to the cinema, or concerts? Would you have gone to the Café de Paris with him if you’d not been on duty?’
‘Of course I would.’
Georgia could hardly ask whether they slept together. ‘Was Verses for Dorinda written for you?’
She looked highly offended. ‘Yes,’ she almost spat. ‘Who else do you think?’
Wrong foot, but it was interesting that Birdie was so defensive. ‘Would Roy have taken Elfie instead of you to the Café de Paris, if Gavin didn’t mind?’
Birdie looked at her vengefully, but then to Georgia’s surprise began to laugh. As her face filled out, Georgia began to see the lovely girl she must have been in the past, and yet she was doomed always to be the sixth unsung member of the Five.
‘What’s funny?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Alwyn wouldn’t have liked that,’ Birdie chuckled.
‘Did Elfie love Roy too?’
A strange look this time. ‘Oh, yes, she did that all right.’
How to take that, Georgia wondered? With caution, she decided. ‘Did Elfie ever draw any pictures of Roy as she did of Alwyn?’
‘Don’t know.’ The mouth set firm. ‘I told you that Matthew took the lot.’
‘When Elfie died?’
‘He’s her son. Cleaned out the studio, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Nor could Christopher, could you, lad?’
The lad shook his head. ‘No, I tried to have a look, but he wouldn’t let me.’
What was going on here? Matthew couldn’t have been worried about what might be in Elfie’s papers, or he would have found the forgeries. Had he been worried that Elfie might have been in love with Roy, not Alwyn? Or that there might be explicit letters from Alwyn or Elfie there?
‘Would it be painful to talk of the day Roy died?’
Birdie looked drained of colour as if the fit of laughing had exhausted her, but she stirred herself to answer without apparent difficulty. As Georgia listened, a picture began to come to life. Roy arrived with Joe late on the Saturday morning. Alwyn was teaching in a nearby school and so was living at home, but his air-raid warden duties meant he had to be out that night. That annoyed Roy, because he wanted to go up to London for some fun. She was heartbroken at having to leave with Alwyn, because if Roy went to London she would miss his visit, as he wouldn’t bother to return on the Sunday. She never saw him again. The lawns at Shaw Cottage were dug up for vegetables in the Dig for Victory campaign, and she, Gavin, and Elfie worked hard during the afternoon. And yes, Alice was there too helping. Only Roy was allowed to relax. Then Alwyn and Birdie left. Gavin said he had enough petrol to get Roy to the station when they left to return to the manor.’
‘Did Elfie get on well with Roy?’
Birdie cast a shrewd glance at her. ‘Roy had friends everywhere,’ she said unhelpfully. ‘Gavin said someone rang him to invite him up to London.’ More helpful.
‘You’re sure Roy actually went and didn’t have –’ Georgia hesitated – ‘an accident here. There were air raids over Kent that evening.’
Christopher was the first to react at this sudden turn, but Birdie got in first. ‘Who would have wanted to hurt my Roy?’ she cried. ‘He loved me. Gavin, Elfie, Alwyn, Clemence, we all loved him. Didn’t we?’ she hurled at Christopher.
If Peter’s theory had needed support, here it was, Georgia realized, chilled. Accident? Birdie herself had immediately understood what Georgia was getting at.
The tears were running down Birdie’s cheeks as she looked into a past that Georgia only wished she could share. Birdie pulled herself together with remarkable speed however. ‘Next year,’ she said briskly, ‘I’ll tell them. Everyone. All those television people about my Roy, and how he loved me.’
It didn’t take long for the repercussions to strike home. Georgia’s mobile rang the next morning. It was Luke.
‘I have a visitor here, Georgia. Matthew Hunt would be obliged if you and Peter would join us in the oast house.’
‘Why should I jump at the ringmaster’s whip?’ Georgia grumbled. ‘Do you want to go, Peter?’
‘No,’ he said promptly. ‘If it’s for an apology over Bonfire Night it would mean nothing, so why give him the satisfaction?’
Luke met her at the oast house door. ‘I’m afraid Sean’s here too. Can you stand it?’
‘In handcuffs?’ she asked furiously. ‘Or to apologize? But, yes, I can stand it.’
Some hopes of an apology. Sean obviously felt secure in his grandfather’s presence. He merely gave her a considered look up and down, which made her flesh creep, as she felt those clutching hands once again.
‘I’ve come here, Mr Hunt,’ Georgia said directly to him, ignoring Sean, ‘but I’ve nothing to discuss with you without some kind of explanation as to Sean’s behaviour.’
‘Sean wishes to apologize for any misunderstanding the other evening. Youthful high spirits got out of hand.’
‘Can he speak for himself?’
‘Yeah, OK.’ Sean sounded bored and Georgia tensed in fury. ‘Sorry and all that.’
‘And now you can wait outside,’ Luke told him firmly, white-faced with anger. For once Matthew did not argue. Sean’s presence had obviously been at his bidding and for once Matthew must have realized his mistake. He made an effort at normality after Luke’s return, but it was forced.
‘I genuinely want to thank you for joining us, Miss Marsh. I suggested it as I’m sure you have had a hand in Mr Frost’s decision over the Five’s reprints. I’m afraid I have to tell you that there is no way the board would sanction publication of The Flight of the Soul.’
Luke sighed. ‘Here we go again. Does the board own the outright copyright in Alwyn Field’s work?’
‘It’s assigned to us as part of the agreement for our paying Miss Field’s fees in the home. Did Molly not tell you that?’
‘Yes, but I understood Miss Field has a say in what is done with Alwyn’s work.’
‘That need not trouble you. We hold the publishing rights.’
‘Obviously you are at least agreeing that Alwyn wrote the book,’ Georgia pointed out with relish.
A split second while Matthew rallied. ‘The case isn’t yet proven.’
‘You’re wasting our time,’ Luke said crossly. ‘Molly accepted the evidence about the forgery, as does Miss Sandford.’
‘She’s a confused old lady.’
‘Astute lady,’ Georgia corrected.
‘What’s so important to you about this issue, Mr Hunt?’ Luke asked curiously. ‘Don’t you like being wrong?’
Matthew looked taken aback. ‘The reputation of the Five, naturally. Apart from the unpleasantness of this plagiarism issue, you are claiming that Alwyn was murdered, Miss Marsh. I gather from Clemence that you now think Roy’s death mysterious and you’re pestering Birdie. To cap it all, you’re doing your best to manufacture lies about my mother.’
‘Why should you be any more upset about Elfie having an affair with Roy than with Alwyn?’ Georgia asked curiously.
He reddened. ‘I’ve spent too long on the project to be diverted by red herrings obviously aimed at attracting tabloid attention. This crazy idea that Roy was murdered is the last straw.’
‘And what about Alwyn’s reputation being ruined? That didn’t seem to distress you and that’s what I don’t understand,’ Georgia said.
‘Then you don’t understand very much,’ Matthew rejoined. ‘I’m not going to see a label of murderer hung round my father’s neck.’
‘It’s fortunate that we haven’t suggested it yet.’ Interesting, she thought, that Matthew immediately assumed Gavin was guilty.
‘I’ve made my point,’ he snapped.
‘You have,’ Luke agreed. ‘And so shall I. My offer for the books is again withdrawn and this meeting is over.’ He promptly rose to show Matthew to the door.
