The House of the Hanged Woman (Albert Lincoln)

by Ellis, Kate

  ‘Horace was used to keeping people’s secrets but in this case he’d have felt obliged to do the correct thing otherwise the worry would have gnawed away at him.’

  ‘You’re right. Leaving him alive was a risk they couldn’t take.’

  ‘And they murdered that poor husband of hers too. Blighted by the war and then killed by his own wife and her lover.’ She gave a heavy sigh, just as Grace entered with a tray of tea and scones. Albert had smelled the scent of fresh baking when he’d entered the house and now he realised he was hungry. Grace poured the tea and offered a buttered scone on a dainty plate. Once Albert had taken one, Grace left them alone.

  ‘I heard that Dr Kelly and Mrs Pretting were acquitted.’

  For a split second Albert was tempted to confide in this woman who reminded him in many ways of his own late mother. Then the moment of temptation passed. He’d share his mistakes with nobody, not even with Sam Poltimore when he got back to Scotland Yard.

  ‘The Ogdens killed Mrs Pretting’s husband too of course. It’s obvious.’ She took a sip of tea and replaced her cup in its saucer. ‘You don’t look happy, Inspector. I would have thought you’d be pleased to have brought the matter to a satisfactory conclusion. And Mr Billinge has turned up safe and well too. You’ve done well, Inspector. Do help yourself to another scone.’

  Albert gave her a grateful smile and did as he was told. After a while she spoke again.

  ‘I called on Lady Cartwright yesterday. She mentioned her niece, Charlotte. She had an understanding with Simon Fellowes before the war, you know. Then she met her husband and … She’s a lovely woman, according to Lady Cartwright. And a good mother. She lost her own child to influenza, you know, and then she adopted a little boy. Horace arranged it all. The child’s very fortunate to have such a loving mother.’

  The words left Albert stunned and when he looked into Mrs Bell’s eyes he realised she knew the truth, which was something he hadn’t expected. The Reverend Bell’s famed discretion apparently hadn’t extended to all matters. It was possible he’d sought his wife’s advice as to how best to deal with a delicate situation. Or perhaps, being an intelligent and observant woman, she’d guessed about his relationship with Flora.

  ‘You can rest assured that young Johnnie has the best of everything,’ she said quietly. ‘And most important of all he is loved.’

  ‘She called him Johnnie?’

  ‘At the real mother’s special request. John was the name of her brother who was killed in the war.’

  This confirmed that Mrs Bell knew everything. Flora had been close to her brother, John, who had wanted to become a doctor like his father. John had died because the women of the Society for the Abolition of Cowardice had pressured him to return to the front. Because the wounds he’d received in war weren’t the visible kind, they’d accused him of being a coward. Flora had blamed them for his death and taken her revenge.

  ‘You know he’s Flora Winsmore’s child?’

  ‘I know a lot of things, Inspector. I guessed at the time that you were the father of Flora’s child.’ She smiled. ‘But I can keep secrets. I’ve had a lot of practice.’

  ‘If Johnnie’s my son, what should I do?’

  ‘As I said, Charlotte’s a loving mother to him and he wants for nothing. But you must do what you think best. The only thing I would ask is that you consider the matter carefully.’

  Albert drained his teacup and stood up. On impulse he bent to kiss Mrs Bell’s cheek and she took his maimed hand gently.

  ‘God bless you,’ she said. ‘I know you’ll do what is best.’

  Albert left the house, more perplexed than ever.

  Albert’s mother had always told him that if you slept on a dilemma, things would seem clearer in the morning. But on this occasion her advice didn’t work. When he left the Black Horse that Saturday morning he felt more confused than ever.

  Instead of reporting to the police station he took the train out of Wenfield on impulse, making the change in Manchester that would take him to Mabley Ridge.

  When he reached the village he walked from the station to Charlotte’s house. He thought of her as Charlotte. Even though he’d never met her, the fact that she was caring for his son, his own flesh and blood, seemed to create a sort of intimacy between them. On arriving at the front door he raised his hand to knock. But at the last moment his courage failed him and he stood there, head bowed, Mrs Bell’s words echoing in his head.

  He heard voices coming from the garden at the side of the house and without thinking he began to walk towards the sound. Then he saw her, Charlotte sitting on a wicker garden chair, dressed in a low-waisted white dress, smiling at the child playing with his coloured bricks on a tartan rug, chattering away to him. He watched the child toddle over to the woman and hand her a couple of bricks, which she took from him gently with a kiss and a show of thanks.

  She looked up for a second and when she spotted Albert the smile vanished, to be replaced by a wary frown. ‘Can I help you?’

  Albert thought quickly. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, madam. Inspector Lincoln. I’m a detective. Scotland Yard,’ he said, fumbling for the warrant card in the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘There’s been a report of a suspicious man in the area. Somebody said he was seen coming this way. I’m just checking that you’re safe.’

  The smile reappeared. ‘I haven’t seen anybody, Inspector. If I do, I’ll be sure to let you know. It’s good to know that the boys in blue are taking such good care of us.’

  ‘It’s what we’re here for, madam.’ He paused, unable to take his eyes off his son.

  ‘Lovely little chap. What’s his name?’

  ‘Johnnie.’ She picked up the child and as she kissed his cheek he grabbed hold of her hair with his chubby fist. She untangled it with great gentleness and bestowed another kiss. ‘He’s a great blessing. I lost a child and the doctors told me I could never have another. Then Johnnie came along.’

  ‘He seems very happy.’

  ‘We both are.’

  The child turned and gazed at him with Flora’s eyes. Albert hesitated. It was now or never.

  ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t telling the whole truth, Mrs Day.’

  He saw curiosity in her eyes – and a hint of fear. ‘I knew the late Reverend Bell and his wife. And … and I was a friend of Johnnie’s mother.’

  ‘I see.’ Her expression was hard to read. She drew Johnnie towards her and held him protectively, as though she feared that Albert might have come to take him away from her.

  ‘I don’t know how much you know about …’

  ‘The reverend told me he’d been born out of wedlock to an unfortunate girl who died. I thought it best not to ask too many questions. As far as we’re concerned, Johnnie is our son.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Albert quickly, his eyes fixed on Johnnie, who favoured him with a smile that melted his heart. ‘Actually I happen to be a relative of the father. He wasn’t in a position to do the right thing and marry the mother but … he still takes an interest in his son’s welfare.’

  He saw Charlotte back away with alarm, her grip tightening on the child.

  Albert raised his hands, a gesture of appeasement, of reassurance. ‘I promise you that he has no wish to interfere in Johnnie’s upbringing. As you say, Johnnie is your son now and obviously happy, so that is the last thing he would want. But if you were to allow me to visit from time to time – with your husband’s permission, naturally …’ He searched for the right words. ‘A boy can’t have too many uncles to take an interest and provide gifts on special occasions, can he?’

  Charlotte looked at him suspiciously. ‘You say you’re a Scotland Yard detective?’

  ‘I am.’ He blurted out that he’d just lost his wife and how he was up there investigating a case. He told her he’d made an arrest in Mabley Ridge – and that he’d been the detective who’d solved the murders there the previous year.

  She listened with interest and he waited for her answer, his heart b
eating fast.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ she said at last, her lips forming a smile that lit up her face. ‘A child needs exciting uncles.’

  Johnnie toddled over to him and placed a brick in his hand and he felt his eyes prick with tears.

  ‘I’d better be off then,’ he said, wanting to be out of there before he gave himself away.

  ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ Charlotte said as the child returned to her arms. ‘For everything.’

  Albert turned and walked away.

  Chapter 82

  When Albert reached Manchester, still in a daze, he saw the Liverpool train standing on the platform, belching smoke and steam like a captive dragon.

  He bought a ticket and rushed to catch it, wrenching open the door of a second-class carriage with his good hand as the wheels were preparing to move, narrowly beating the guard’s flag. Once in Liverpool he caught another train out to Aigburth, determined that this time his courage wouldn’t fail him.

  He walked to Gwen Davies’s road as quickly as he could manage, ignoring the pain in his leg. Eventually he found himself standing opposite a red-brick semi-detached house with a small, neat front garden and a bottle green front door. It was an unremarkable house like so many others but the sight of it set Albert’s heart racing. Last time he’d seen Gwen they’d been in Mabley Ridge. She’d endured pain of her own in the past and they’d become close. Because of Mary they’d agreed that nothing could come of their embryonic relationship and she’d returned to her family in Liverpool. But now the world had changed.

  He knew that lurking in the street staring at the house might arouse the suspicion of the neighbours. He had already seen a lace curtain twitch next door, so he straightened his back and walked to the front door. It was a Saturday, not a working day, so there was a chance she’d be at home.

  He removed his hat before ringing the doorbell and waited, more nervous than he’d felt in a long while. After what seemed like an age the door opened.

  Gwen Davies was standing there in a well-worn dress and long cardigan. She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then her lips turned upwards in a smile.

  ‘I’m sorry to call on you unannounced.’

  She took a step forward. ‘Don’t be sorry.’ There was a long pause, as though she was trying to find the right words. ‘Actually, I hoped you’d turn up one day.’

  ‘Did you? Did you really?’

  Albert saw a blush appear on her freckled cheeks. ‘Why do you think I gave you my address last time we met in Mabley Ridge? Give me a moment,’ she said quickly, glancing behind her.

  She disappeared into the depths of the hallway and returned a few seconds later wearing her hat and coat. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she said.

  Albert nodded, relieved that he hadn’t been forced to give awkward explanations to her family. Gwen shut the front door behind her and linked her arm through his. He walked in silence, unable to find the words to express how he felt about seeing her again. Elated. Hopeful. Nervous. He’d experienced the depths of despair but now he was filled with optimism for the future; a happiness he thought he’d never know again.

  ‘How have you been since Mabley Ridge?’ she asked once they’d reached the bottom of the road, turning to look him in the eye.

  He told her. Everything. About Johnnie. About Mary’s death. About the Reverend Bell and Abraham Stark. And she listened, saying nothing until he’d finished.

  ‘Will you be going back to London soon?’

  With those few tentative words everything became clear. ‘Not necessarily,’ he said softly. ‘There’s not much to go back for. And I dare say Scotland Yard can manage without me.’

  She nodded, unsmiling, and he watched her face, fearing that he’d been too honest; said too much too soon. Then she touched his hand.

  ‘Let’s walk in the park. You can see the river from there. My dad says it’s wider than the Thames.’

  She turned to face him. Then she stood on tiptoe and they kissed, gently at first then with more passion. They walked towards the park arm in arm and, as he felt the warmth of her body next to his, London and his old life seemed very far away.