The Body in Belair Park

by Alice Castle

  He held out one hand to Khan, who obligingly passed him a biro, and he marked a few quick hieroglyphs on the blank space that were as hard to decipher as any prescription the doctor himself could have written. Then he slipped the package into his pocket, patting it rather ominously. The doctor looked at him, suddenly seeming smaller and more frail.

  ‘Well, if that’s all, I might return to the game…’

  ‘Of course,’ said Harry, genial again. ‘I imagine your table will be getting impatient?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said the doctor. ‘I was the dummy. That’s why I could slip out to, er, assist you.’ He gave another smile, but it was rather tentative, as though he was on the brink of saying something else. Whatever it was, he thought better of it. Then he turned on his heel and made his way out of the room, walking with a slight limp now.

  Harry stared after him. For a moment, he wondered what the doctor had been about to say. But then all speculation was banished. He stared straight ahead, unseeing, at the closed door. Narinda Khan stood on the sidelines, looking at him strangely, but Harry York’s expression was completely blank and then, as though a mist had cleared, he started to smile. He’d had an idea.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beth sat in her little office in the Archives Institute at Wyatt’s. She’d had an idea.

  Naturally, it wasn’t about the outline for a life history of Sir Thomas Wyatt – the project she’d been working on, in a desultory sort of way, for so long. It was about her mother, about bridge, and above all about poor old Alfie Pole. Beth took an exasperated look at her in-tray, looming like a tatty sort of south London Matterhorn over her entire office.

  Colin, lying at her side with his head peacefully upon his two folded paws, looked up at the teetering collection of school notices, play programmes, copies of the Head’s speeches, and timetables of rugby fixtures, with a slightly wary look in his soft brown eyes. He seemed to hate filing almost as much as Beth did. Plus, he probably didn’t want that little lot cascading down about his silky ears. But he banged his tail on the floor encouragingly when Beth peered at him, and gave a tiny little snort, which could have been contentment or impatience, depending on how you read it. Beth, who’d got much better over the months in decoding Labrador, decided it was impatience. Perhaps he needed to avail himself of the facilities?

  She scrabbled in her drawer for the cache of plastic bags she now squirreled away all over the place for Colin’s doings, and got to her feet.

  ‘All right then, boy, you’ve talked me into it. Walkies.’

  Colin, a little surprised but never one to look a gift perambulation in the mouth, got stiffly to his hind legs. He was getting a bit rheumaticky in the back quarters these days, but he wasn’t one to grumble. He gave Beth’s hand a grateful lick and submitted to the lead being clipped onto his collar. He gave his tail an experimental wag or two before settling into the steady rhythm of an outboard motor and, thus propelled, followed Beth out into the fresh air.

  Beth’s motives in taking this unscheduled break were many and various, but there were few she wanted to acknowledge openly, either to herself, to the ever-patient Colin, or to anyone else. She happened to know that the bell was about to ring for break and that Ben had Latin at second period, so he would be walking across this particular corner of the asphalt playground just about – ah, there he was. Swinging his bag, lagging at the back of a gaggle of boys, walking along with, yes, there was Charlie. But there were a couple of others, too. Laughing and joshing with these new friends, Ben was also casually scuffing the shoes which had cost her a fortune – and so much angst – only a couple of weeks ago.

  Beth felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ben, never voluble about school even when he’d been in the cosy Village Primary, now seemed to have taken some sort of Trappist vow about what went on between the hours of 8.45am and 3.30pm. Sneaking the occasional glance, like this, did so much to reassure her that everything was going as well as could be expected at this point. And she could give some feedback to Katie, too. She’d be really interested to know that Ben and Charlie had both got to Latin on time without any undue incidents.

  Yes, she was actually doing this for Katie, Beth told herself as she dodged behind the science block, hoping Ben hadn’t caught sight of Colin’s distinctive chocolatey coat. Although she had a perfect right to be strolling the grounds of Wyatt’s. And she wasn’t spying on her boy, oh no.

  ‘Beth!’ said a loud voice at her elbow. She hadn’t seen Janice coming up, so intent had she been on the little group on the edge of her sightline.

  ‘Ah, I was just looking for you, Janice,’ she said, flustered.

  ‘Hmm, were you? Because I almost never hang out with the boys doing Year 7 Latin,’ said the imperturbable school secretary with a fond smile. ‘Come on, Beth. You know Ben’s doing fine. I’d tell you if he wasn’t.’

  ‘Yes, but what if even you don’t really know what’s going on, Janice?’ Beth burst out. ‘It’s not like he tells anyone anything. It would be much easier to get a full life story out of a clam than to get a simple hello from Ben these days.’

  ‘Listen, Beth, I hear you, you’re an anxious mother, that’s fine. We’ve all been there,’ said Janice patronisingly, seeming to forget she had recently called Beth up at 2am because her baby had ‘looked a bit funny’. She took a breath and carried on. ‘But Ben’s absolutely fine. Don’t you think I haven’t got the whole cohort of teachers primed and ready to report back to me if there’s the slightest problem? And why on earth should there be? He’s a lovely boy. You’ve got nothing to worry about,’ she said firmly.

  Beth felt silly. ‘You’re right. I’m being ridiculous. Colin, don’t do that,’ she said, pulling at the dog as he advanced inexorably on Janice. ‘I’m sorry. You know he’s got a fixation,’ she said, as Janice swung her shoulder bag across her body to protect her from Colin’s probing nose.

  ‘I take it as a weird compliment. A very weird one,’ said Janice.

  Beth wasn’t sure she should be so accepting – Colin was not particularly discriminating; for him, it was any crotch in a storm – but it was very sporting of Janice. Beth had tried to cure him of his obsession, and luckily he didn’t do it to her, but he was nothing short of an old perv sometimes.

  ‘Shall we go and have a coffee in the canteen? Take your mind off it all? And how’s Wendy? She’ll be out tomorrow, won’t she?’

  Beth wasn’t surprised that Janice had heard all about her mother’s travails. If there was a hamster sneezing anywhere amongst the Wyatt’s pet population, Janice had made a vet’s appointment by the afternoon.

  She sighed. ‘Yes, they’re going to discharge her tomorrow. I’m not sure if that’s too soon or not, but there’s a danger that she’ll milk the whole situation and take root in that bed. You know what she’s like. She just loves the attention.’

  ‘But it must have been so awful when you found her!’ Janice’s eyebrows were raised, and Beth immediately felt a pang that she’d switched so quickly from terror that her mother would die to irritation that her mother was very much alive.

  ‘Oh God, yes, yes, it was terrible. I really thought she’d… For a minute I was so sure… It was really grim.’ Beth’s hand went to her heart at the memory, and she was transfixed for a moment. She should be more patient. So what, if Wendy wanted to block an NHS bed for a bit? She’d had a ghastly experience. She probably needed a rest. And if whoever it was who’d done this had genuinely meant to bump her off, then she was certainly safer in hospital than out on the streets of Dulwich where, Beth realised with a frisson of horror, it would be the easiest thing in the world to have another pop at her.

  ‘Mothers and daughters, eh?’ sighed Janice with the smugness of someone whose own daughter was currently kitted out every day in a Babygro with bunny ears attached, and was entirely unable to remove the outfit or exert any sort of freedom of choice, sartorial or otherwise. It was quite clear Janice could never envisage a time when the dynamics between
them might be more complicated.

  Beth smiled inwardly. Long may her situation remain so blissful.

  ‘Do you have any idea yet who’d want to try and kill Wendy? Or her friend, for that matter?’ Janice asked earnestly.

  ‘It’s still a complete mystery. Well, maybe not so much with Mum. I can’t be the only one who’s tempted every now and again,’ Beth said it lightly, but Janice gave her a bit of a look. Beth recalibrated mentally. Even joking about matricide was not really on, she supposed, when they’d just had such a narrow escape.

  To her surprise, Janice then pressed her arm for a moment. ‘It’s been rough on you, I bet. And just when you want to be concentrating on Ben. Well, to reassure you again, he’s settling in brilliantly. I wish I could say the same for all the boys.’

  Instantly, Beth banished Wendy to the back of her mind – for now – as she scented a chunk of gossip. ‘Wait, it’s not Charlie, is it? Katie’s son.’

  ‘What? No, no, he’s another duck to water, that one. No, it’s someone quite unexpected, really. Well, it’s a big transition, isn’t it? Primary to secondary. And I have to say, the ones that have been tutored extensively to get in, sometimes relax a bit when they’re over the finishing line, so to speak. And that really isn’t a great idea. If they need that much extra help to pass the exams, then they probably shouldn’t be here, or they should continue with the tuition to keep up. We move along pretty fast, even at the Year 7 level.’

  Beth was beginning to wonder if she could make an educated, or tutored, guess at the boy who was struggling. The extra lessons part certainly rang a bell – a large, glitzy, Belinda MacKenzie-sized klaxon. But she suddenly felt it was a bit unfair to tattle about Billy, if it was indeed the poor lad. She couldn’t exactly say she’d grown fond of him in the brief time when she’d caved in to her own worst fears (and Belinda’s bossy urgings) and occasionally driven him, his brother, and Ben, to Camberwell for a bit of cramming. He was too loud, too sporty, too confident to win, or even to seem to need, a place in her heart. But there was no malice in the lad. What you saw was what you got, and there was plenty of it, if you liked that sort of thing. And it definitely wasn’t his fault that he was Belinda MacKenzie’s son.

  ‘Will you be, er, having a word with his mum?’ asked Beth.

  ‘For sure. Unless he picks up by the end of the week. It doesn’t take much to get left behind, believe me. This first phase is pretty crucial. Of course, the teachers do pile on the homework a bit, just to test the boys’ nerves. But there are also a few little exercises done in class, where no-one else can “help”, and that can really separate the sheep from the goats.’

  ‘I’ve never totally understood that phrase,’ Beth murmured, immediately worried about how Ben might be coping with any impromptu quizzes. They were among the many, many things he hadn’t mentioned to her.

  Janice looked at her sharply, then smiled. ‘You’re right, I shouldn’t really be discussing it with you. Bit close to home. Let’s go and grab that coffee.’

  ‘What shall I do with Colin?’ Beth wondered. The old boy had been suspiciously quiet as they’d walked and talked. Sometimes, she got the impression that he was actually eavesdropping. His head would nod when Beth was chatting with friends, he’d even pant wisely at times, but he’d always hold his own counsel. Not for the first time, she wondered what on earth he’d say if he could only talk. But they probably both preferred it this way, she thought, patting his velvet head.

  ‘He can’t come into the canteen, but everyone’s in classes for half an hour, so you can just loop up his lead here, outside, and I’ll get one of the catering staff to bring him a bowl of water. Everyone loves Colin,’ said Janice, who’d obviously forgiven him for his earlier probing.

  A short while later, Beth was having a very unusual sensation. She was rather wishing Janice would shut up. Her friend normally talked nothing but sense, but having just had a baby, she was now understandably obsessed with everything pertaining to tiny little Elizabeth Grover. It did not make her the most fascinating company. Beth thought back to her early days with Ben, and inwardly sympathised with everyone who’d had to listen to her droning on about nappies and feeds and sleeps and rashes and teething and… But Beth was devoted to Elizabeth. Not just because Janice had paid her the enormous compliment of borrowing her name and making her godmother, but also because the baby was a chip off the old block, the snuggliest and most gorgeous creature Beth had ever seen. Nevertheless, hearing endless details about the state of the child’s buttocks was doing her head in.

  Janice was halfway through a tale about Elizabeth regurgitating a feed, when Beth could take no more. ‘Can I just ask you, because you know everything, can you think of anyone in the Bridge Club who’d actually have a grudge against Alfie Pole? Or my mother?’ she said desperately.

  ‘Oh! Well, I don’t know… and isn’t that the sort of thing that you’re supposed to be working out? You’re the detective, after all,’ said Janice.

  ‘Oh, I’m not,’ said Beth. ‘I’ve just had a few lucky guesses in the past…’

  ‘More than that. Don’t be modest,’ said Janice over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘Now does it mean anything that there were specks of spinach in—?’

  ‘It’s just that you do know everyone in Dulwich,’ Beth blurted. ‘If there was some ancient grudge in the Bridge Club, well, you’d be the one who’d have heard all about it.’

  Janice halted again, reluctantly, but thought a little bit longer this time. She shook her head. ‘No. The Bridge Club always seems fine, runs like clockwork, thanks to Deirdre MacBride. I’ve heard the odd dispute does break out when she’s not around for any reason…’ Janice tailed off with a little cough when she remembered who she was talking to, while Beth stored the information away for later but said nothing. ‘But it’s not like the allotments, is it?’ Janice continued. ‘Or the gardening people? I mean, they’re really crazy.’

  ‘Crazy? Gardeners? Are they really? In what way? And by allotments, do you mean the strips of land down by the side of the school playing fields? Are the gardening people the ones who run them?’

  Janice sighed. ‘We might need some more coffee. This could take some time.’

  ‘I’ll grab some more, and some sandwiches, and we’ll take them back to my office, shall we?’ said Beth, delighted they were on the right track at last. A few minutes later, they were back in the Archives Institute, getting settled, with Colin lying at their feet.

  ‘So, tell me all about these crazy gardeners,’ said Beth, leaning forward over her desk.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Janice. ‘Yes, ok. Well, let’s see. Suppose I start with the Open Gardens set, then. They’re all lovely, they really are, but there are one or two… You see, what you’ve got to understand about Dulwich and gardens is that it’s…’ she tailed off, thoughtfully.

  Beth, on the edge of her seat, couldn’t hide her impatience. ‘Yes? It’s like what?’

  Janice shook herself. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so tired with Elizabeth waking up three times a night. I’m doing it all, letting Tommy sleep, as he’s got to do a full day…’

  As usual, Beth’s own mind went blank for a second as she computed the fact that the great Dr Grover, the head who had brought Wyatt’s on in leaps and bounds, was just plain old Tommy to Janice, and now talked about in faintly dismissive terms. Janice had little time for anything that wasn’t wearing pale pink accessorised with pureed apple at the moment.

  ‘Did Ben do that?’ Janice was still speaking.

  ‘Do what? Wake up? Oh, they all do. It’s standard issue. Breaks you in for everything to come,’ Beth shrugged. To tell the truth, she couldn’t really remember those early days. Mind you, she didn’t try. It had been a fog of weariness and confusion. She sympathised with Janice, she really did, but she didn’t want to go back there. Especially as they seemed to have hit on a promising line of enquiry at last. But she could see that her friend’s head was drooping like a tulip in need of water. The poor gi
rl was shattered.

  Beth quickly made a little pillow with Janice’s cashmere cardi, plumped it up on the desk, and then coaxed her head down onto it. She left the sandwich and one steaming coffee just out of elbow-jogging range, in case Janice had a nightmare about little Elizabeth.

  As she tiptoed over to her conference table, she was thinking furiously. Not about sleep deprivation and the delightful, precious menace of tiny babies, but of gardening clubs and allotments.

  By half-past three, Colin was also sound asleep and Beth herself was in danger of nodding off. She had scaled a couple of faces of her own personal Matterhorn of post, and had silently filed the essentials in her archive – nowadays, a sleek and efficient record of the school’s doings, a million miles from the tatty collection of dog-eared play programmes from the 1940s that she had inherited from her unlamented predecessor.

  She’d also downloaded Deirdre MacBride’s very efficient list of people who’d been dummy during the fateful hand of bridge when Alfie Pole had met the great director in the sky. Beth crossed off Alfie’s own name rather sadly. That left five. Some were a little surprising. R. Joyce – that definitely rang some sort of bell. Rosemarie Hadley – oh yes, the woman with the blonde helmet of hair. Peter Tilling – Beth had never heard of him. Dr John Kendall – if he was a medical doctor, and not a PhD (you could never tell in Dulwich), he might well be au fait with poisons. And finally, Christina Smith. Again, Beth didn’t know her.

  Was she just giving herself a lot more work with this little lot, or could it really crack the case? She really wasn’t sure. Before she could talk herself out of it, she decided to email a copy off to Harry at his Met Police address. Checking a whole bunch of alibis was much more the traditional police bag than her sort of thing. She liked to make intuitive leaps, she decided. Plus, she really didn’t have the time to do all that gumshoe stuff, trekking round and making herself unpopular by asking too many questions. I’ll let my boy in blue do that, she smiled as she hit send.