by Alice Castle
‘I raced round to the bench where I could see Alfie, just sitting there, with his back to the house. He seemed not to have a care in the world.’ Wendy bit back a sob. ‘I didn’t realise it then, but that’s because he wasn’t in the world any more. Poor, poor Alfie.’
‘So, let me get this right, you left the grounds of Belair House, and went into the Park itself?’
Wendy glared at her resentfully through moist eyes, but Beth knew she had to plough on. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, I don’t want to spoil your moment, remembering Alfie and all, but we do need to get the details right.’
Wendy sighed. ‘Oh, I suppose you do. You’ll be no help, otherwise,’ she sniffed.
Beth swallowed down a retort. Now that they were so close to getting the real facts, she didn’t want to derail Wendy’s train of thought.
‘Yes, yes, I left by the gate. It was open; it always is in the daytime. I think they shut it at dusk, like Dulwich Park, you know?’ Her mother was right, the gates were left open during the days then padlocked overnight. In the case of Belair Park, it was a little pointless, as the fence was not high. But still, standards had to be seen to be kept up.
‘Wait a minute, your eyesight must be amazing, to see Alfie sitting on a bench in the Park, from the window. It’s quite a long way, isn’t it?’
‘It is, yes. The house hasn’t kept all its original grounds but the lawns at the back are still extensive. But I wear my glasses when I’m playing bridge, you know, dear. My sight may not be quite what it was, but I’m not blind. And besides, Alfie was wearing his hat.’
‘His hat?’ Beth wrinkled her forehead behind her fringe.
‘Yes, he always wears a bright red bobble hat, winter or summer. It’s one of his things, you know. Well, it was,’ she added with a lugubrious sniff.
‘And he was wearing it that day? It wasn’t that cold, though.’
‘You young people with your hot blood. It’s not the same for us oldies,’ said Wendy.
‘Oh, Wendy, you’re not old,’ said Katie obediently, hitting exactly the right note. Wendy preened a little and gave Beth a triumphant smile, which she chose to ignore.
‘So, you saw Alfie in his red hat. I suppose it could have been someone else wearing the same, or a similar hat, and you wouldn’t have known the difference?’
‘Yes. Except it was Alfie, of course. As I discovered when I went up to him on the bench,’ said Wendy with a delicate shudder which caused her scarves to tremble like aspens in a breeze.
‘And what, exactly, did you see?’
‘Really, Beth, you needn’t sound so prurient. This is upsetting, you know.’
‘I’m well aware of that, Mum, honestly I am. But your eye-witness account is vital. I’m not going to get access to any crime scene photos, so if I – we – have any chance of getting to the bottom of this, we need to hear absolutely everything you can remember,’ Beth said earnestly, looking at Katie for approval. Katie nodded her head vigorously.
‘I see. Well, it’s painful, of course, but I’ll do my best,’ said Wendy, composing herself with a brief shake of her beads. ‘I went up to Alfie. I’d been walking quite fast, because we didn’t have much of the break time left and he really needed to come back. Time was ticking on; we had several more rounds to get through that afternoon and there’d be hell to pay if we caused a hold-up. The trouble with the people at the Bridge Club is that they really like to stick to their schedules,’ Wendy said confidingly.
Beth sucked in her breath. Her mother was the worst culprit ever for this, adhering to her bridge timetable more tenaciously than a reduced sticker to a birthday present. But Beth buttoned her lip and Wendy took up the narrative again.
‘I was calling out, “Alfie, Alfie,” as I got closer, and I thought it was very odd he didn’t respond. If I’m honest, I thought he was being quite rude. First of all, he’d left me in the lurch. Then he was ignoring me. Well, of course he wasn’t, but I didn’t know that then. So I’m afraid I did shout a bit. And as I got near enough to the bench, I took hold of his shoulder and I – well, I shook it.’ Wendy shut her eyes, as if to banish the memory.
‘What happened next?’ Beth prompted, hoping to cut the theatrics to the minimum.
Wendy’s eyes flicked open and gave Beth a hard stare. She turned to Katie instead, and to Beth’s horror, the tears formed again, and this time broke the banks and started to trickle down well-powdered cheeks.
‘He–he–he just sort of collapsed, onto his side. All in one piece. Not like someone who’s asleep. More like a… a… plank of wood,’ Wendy said, her voice rising to a wail.
Immediately, the waiter popped his head out of the kitchen. This might be the worst café in Dulwich but that didn’t mean you could make a scene here. Outside, Colin finally raised his voice in protest. That was it, as far as Beth was concerned. If a dog as patient as Colin had had enough, then she didn’t even want to think about what Teddy was doing to Katie’s curtains.
‘Mum, let’s meet again tomorrow, at Belair Park. You need to show us the scene of the crime.’
Chapter Seven
Beth looked at her watch at nine the next morning. It wasn’t like Katie to be late, especially when she’d got her way and insisted on meeting at her favourite café rather than the dreaded Aurora again. Jane’s was packed already, and it was destined to stay that way until it finally shooed its clientele out onto the streets at seven that evening. Beth had only managed to grab a table by sheer luck – and the fact that she’d accidentally-on-purpose kicked a toddler’s well-chewed elephant toy under the counter. When he’d screamed the place down and his harassed mother had bundled him out, Beth had swooped.
As she waited, Beth wondered anxiously about Ben. He seemed to have survived his first day at Wyatt’s yesterday without obvious scars, but he’d gone to bed early, sans the usual nagging, and had still looked a bit haggard this morning. She briefly wondered whether it was all going to be too much for him. Perhaps Belinda had been right; perhaps the tutoring meant he wasn’t going to cope.
Thank goodness. She saw Katie’s blonde halo of hair shining as she paused on the threshold and waved at her friend. Beth had already got the coffees in, ready for a good debriefing on Wendy, but Katie plunged in straight away. ‘Did you do ok with that maths homework?’
‘What maths homework?’ she asked in horror. Oh no. Don’t say it was starting already. Ben had always had a bad habit of pretending tasks were “optional”, as she’d frequently discovered to her embarrassment and the teachers’ frustration. She’d already told him that wasn’t going to wash in big school. And he’d told her never to refer to it as “big school” again.
‘Don’t worry. They’re probably in different sets, or something,’ Katie said. Instantly, Beth fretted that Ben had already been consigned to the bottom rung of the maths ladder while Charlie was speeding away to the upper echelons. Katie was still talking, though. ‘But listen, are you going later on?’
‘Going where?’ asked Beth, taking a spoonful of delectable milk froth from her coffee. Mm, it was getting a bit cool but was still heavenly.
‘The coffee morning. At Belinda’s, of course,’ said Katie with a little shrug.
‘Not invited. Obviously,’ said Beth.
‘Really? No, she won’t have left you out. She wouldn’t… would she? Here, check your phone.’
‘No point. You know what she’s like. Ever since… well, for ever, she’s given me the cold shoulder. Or just tried to knock me out with that damned bag of hers, like she did yesterday. She’s made a decision. She’s not going to have me over again.’
Katie tutted. ‘I can’t believe that. Honestly, she’s… silly sometimes.’ Beth thought this was much too mild an assessment but remained silent. ‘Would you rather I didn’t go?’ Katie looked up with guileless blue eyes, and Beth didn’t have the heart to admit that, yes, actually, she’d much prefer it if Katie boycotted Belinda forever, out of solidarity.
‘Course not. You go, and report back
. I want to know everything. New au pair, new appliances, new girlfriend for Barnaby… the works.’
‘She’ll be getting rid of the au pair. And I’m sure she was talking the other day about tightening her belt.’
‘That was just a boast. She was saying she’d lost weight, not that she wanted to economise. Hell hasn’t got that chilly; not the last time I looked, anyway. You’ve probably got to shoot off, then,’ Beth said, hoping she didn’t sound too despondent.
Katie looked guilty. ‘Well, I’ve got a bit of time… Listen, how do you think it went yesterday?’
‘What, with my mother? The usual mess of twaddle, precious few actual facts… I think we’ll need to know an awful lot more before we decide if we want to get involved…’
Katie looked shocked for just a moment. ‘No, I meant with the boys. First day, and all.’
‘Oh. That. I think it was fine. You know Ben, he was quite tight-lipped. Like he’d taken an oath or something. Deflected all my questions, even the really cunning ones. Wanted to ask what Colin and I had been doing all day instead. I can’t believe he’s using the distraction technique against me.’
Katie nodded in solidarity. Though Beth reckoned Charlie wasn’t quite as wily a customer as Ben, Katie too had spent years wheedling out the truth in the face of determined opposition. ‘Charlie was the same. Maybe they just need time to process it all before telling us.’
Beth nearly snorted, but refrained in her best ladylike manner. She didn’t want to cast aspersions on Katie’s lovely optimism – and she didn’t want to risk spraying her cappuccino foam around the café either. ‘Ben was tired, though, no question. It’s a lot, the first few days.’
She thought back to her own work debut at Wyatt’s. Added to the enormous size of the place, and the dauntingly shiny air of competence that everyone radiated, for her there had also been the unfortunate matter of her boss’s sudden death. She was willing to bet that, however things were really going for Ben and Charlie, it wouldn’t be quite as bad as that. ‘I dare say they’ll be fine.’
Katie’s eyes were troubled for a moment, then she sipped her drink. ‘Well, you know the place. I’m so glad you’re on the spot.’
‘I haven’t exactly been ever-present so far. What with my mother yesterday, then going to Belair Park today…’
‘Ah yes, that,’ said Katie. ‘Listen, do you mind if I take a rain check on that? The coffee morning… like you said, one of us should go.’
Beth looked at Katie. She’d never been sure that her friend was really dedicated to being the Hastings to her Poirot. And sidling out of an important fact-finding trip to a murder scene was not a promising sign. But, on the other hand, someone did need to know what Belinda was up to. ‘That’s absolutely fine, of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know what I find out. And vice versa?’
‘Scout’s honour,’ said Katie.
***
It wasn’t until later, as she pored over a perfectly ordinary-looking bench in the deserted green space of Belair Park, that Beth remembered neither of them had ever been Scouts. Or Brownies, come to that, though Beth had tried to make up for that by eating her weight in them many times over.
It was a distinctly autumnal day. The shrubs tufting through the fence at the perimeter of the park were changing from green to rusty brown. Though it was almost eleven now, the bushes still looked drenched with the night’s dew, or perhaps it had been drizzling slightly when she’d been in the lovely warm café. Fingers of cold stroked her neck and cheeks, reminding her that the year was all downhill from here, weather-wise at least. Presumably, two hundred-odd years ago, a rather grander planting scheme had held sway, but today this bit of Belair Park was mostly uninspiring lawn, an also-ran compared with Beth’s favourite open space, Dulwich Park.
She focussed on the bench again. What could it tell her? Surely something? But the harder she looked, the more uncommunicative it seemed. An iron frame, painted a municipal dark green. A very plain functional design. It didn’t look comfortable. She sat down gingerly, not afraid of getting anything on her jeans – she really wasn’t precious about them, and with good reason – but still filled with an irrational sense of revulsion. Someone had died here. There might be no outward sign, no remnants of police tape, no X marking the spot, but she did feel a lingering malignity in the atmosphere. Just as she was telling herself not to be so silly, that there was nothing supernatural clinging to the place and she was being ridiculous, there came a sudden shout of ‘Oi!’ Beth jumped a clear foot in the air.
When she came back to earth, she looked around frantically for the source of the noise. Who was yelling at her? The only person she could see was a little old lady with an even smaller dog on a lead, the mutt resplendent in a tartan coat. Surely such volume could not have emanated from such a diminutive form. As she watched, the old lady put her head on one side, the dog tilted his to the other, so that they looked like matching bookends. Cross bookends.
‘Um, hello?’ Beth ventured. The pair came forward. Slowly, very slowly. The dog, now she saw it more clearly, was very stout, the coat not buckled underneath its low-slung tum but held on with a piece of string. Its owner was no less generously proportioned; almost wider than she was high. Though Beth felt a momentary excitement at finally having met someone in Dulwich who was around her own height, the angry look in the lady’s eye was definitely daunting.
‘What do you think you’re doing, sitting there?’
After the bellowed ‘Oi,’ Beth had been expecting to have to decode a rich south London accent, but this sentence was all cut glass, of the type that once would have shone brightly on the dining tables of John Willes. Beth had an idea, and sat up straighter.
‘I said get orf, not get comfy,’ the voice came again, as the lady shuffled inexorably closer.
Beth considered her options. She could either continue to sit and be shouted at, she could stand and wait to be told off, or she could close the gap between them and maybe have a bit of a chat. She chose the third path.
‘I’m sorry, what’s the problem with me sitting there? This is a public park, isn’t it?’ she said as she loped forward.
As she’d hoped, the lady looked horrified. ‘Don’t you know what happened there, young lady? Such a short time ago. People have no respect these days. None at all. Shocking, shocking.’
Now that she’d got her way over the seating arrangements, the lady seemed to have lost interest in Beth and started to amend her trajectory and shuffle towards the park gates instead, her little dog plodding just as slowly at her heels.
‘Hang on a second,’ said Beth, catching up in a stride. ‘Is there something about the place where I was sitting?’
The woman looked up at her – a delicious feeling that Beth couldn’t help savouring – and then gave a loud, disgusted sniff. ‘Well, if you don’t know, then I’m certainly not going to tell you. We’re not like those youngsters who waste their money tying flowers round lampposts and all that sort of silliness. Not at our age!’ Then she started shuffling again.
Beth wasn’t sure quite what she was being accused of, so she edged along to keep up. ‘It’s just, that bench, well, from what I understand…’
‘Yes? And what do you understand, a gel like you?’ This time, this little Miss Tiggywinkle of a lady had stopped short (very short) and was waving a shaking finger up into Beth’s face. ‘No respect. That’s what it is.’ At this, her minuscule dog started to growl, the sheer unfriendliness of the sound quite at odds with his jaunty tartan wrappings. ‘That’s right, Tinker. You tell her!’
‘I’m very sorry, we’ve really got off on the wrong paw, er, foot. I just wanted to ask you… some questions, if I could? About that bench?’
‘I thought I’d made it perfectly clear. I have nothing to say!’ With that, the lady hugged her flapping coat around her, took a firmer hold of Tinker’s lead, and swept off. The trouble was that her steps were so mincing that her finest sweep advanced her by only a matter of centimetr
es.
Beth took half a pace forward and was abreast with her again. She took a deep breath, and plunged in.
‘I’m just looking into the death of Alfie Pole. My mother, Wendy, well, she’s in the Bridge Club that plays at Belair House, and she’s asked me to investigate a little… Alfie was her partner.’
Immediately, it was as though a switch had been pulled. Both the old lady and the dog melted as fast as marshmallows by an open fire. ‘Wendy? Well, why on earth didn’t you say, dear? How absurd. Did you hear that, Tinker? Wendy asked her to. Wendy. Yes, Wendy. Wendy, Wendy, Wendy,’ she cooed, rubbing Tinker’s tummy as he writhed on his back on the damp grass.
Beth looked on, bemused. She certainly wouldn’t have permitted Colin to get himself quite so thoroughly snuggly on the muddy ground, but maybe this lady was less phobic about the smell of wet dog. She hoped poor Colin was ok. She’d thought that she and Katie would be super-busy this morning, so she’d left him guarding the sofa, under strict instructions not to let Magpie near it. She had reckoned without Belinda’s coffee morning disrupting proceedings. Bloody Belinda, forever lobbing a spanner in the works.
Now she felt obscurely guilty, as she was in a park, without her dog. It seemed wrong, somehow. She consoled herself that Colin might have accidentally eaten or stepped on Tinker if she’d brought him, as the little pooch was so weeny. Neither of them would have wanted that on their conscience. And if she didn’t tell him about the park, Colin would never know. That was the great thing about dogs.
‘Um, I’m trying to gather as much information as possible about that day, the day when Alfie, well, you know… on the bench. Just to put my mother’s mind at rest, you see,’ Beth said, edging round and trying to get more of the lady’s attention. She was still lavishing tickles on Tinker’s belly, but she gave him a final couple of pats and straightened up, smiling now at Beth.
