by AG Barnett
She made her way down the wide staircase, which groaned underfoot like a sleeping bear, reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left. She moved across the hallway towards the back wall where a discreet door was set into a green baize panel, a remnant from days long before her time there, when servants had dealt with the cooking.
The kitchen was a large, functional space, divided down its length by a metal-topped bench with matching benches running along either wall.
Mary set to work, opening the third cupboard on the right and taking a glass before pouring herself a drink from the tap. She gulped at it greedily, feeling her throat return to some kind of normality as she shivered slightly in the chill of the room.
What had Dot meant by saying “she wasn’t sure what would happen” if Mary didn’t get back to work soon? Did she think that Mary was some sort of emotional wreck who was going to crumble without the high-profile role she had become so used to?
She felt a pang of concern run through her as she pictured herself back in her flat in London, sprawled on the sofa, with a glass of gin and tonic nearby. Damn it, maybe Dot was right.
A noise behind her made her spin around, sloshing water across the flagstone floor.
“Well, hello, Mary,” Dave Flintock said, grinning. He wore a dressing gown that was worryingly short, and not large enough for his ample belly. The shining silk fabric stretched around his protruding gut and finished just above his surprisingly thin and knobbly knees.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?!” Mary snapped. “You frightened the life out of me!”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged. “Maybe you and I could keep each other company for a while?” He grinned, moving towards her, his hand snaking towards the gown that covered her breasts.
She slapped him hard across the face and brought her knee up at the same time, doubling him over in pain as he fell softly to the floor.
“Go to bed, Flintock,” she said, her voice like steel. She grabbed her glass of water and strode out, leaving him groaning softly on the flagstones.
She was heading back up the stairs when a movement above caught her eye. Emily Hanchurch was rushing along the hallway, her long pale legs flashing in the dark from under her dressing gown. She stopped at a door and knocked. The door opened almost immediately to reveal Steve Benz, who ushered her in before closing the door. There was no mistaking the intention there, thought Mary.
She began climbing the stairs and as she reached the top, another door opened and a figure emerged.
“Oh, hi, Mary,” Freddie Hale said as he approached her. “Just thought I’d see if Melanie was OK, she had a bit of a dicky tummy earlier.”
“Oh, right,” Mary said, hoping he couldn’t see her blush in the gloom. “Well, I hope she’s feeling better. Night, Freddie.” She turned away as he knocked on Melanie’s door and called her name, stepped into her room and locked the door behind her.
Who knew there was so much activity after dark? She sighed to herself before crawling back into bed and once again falling into a restless sleep with various visions of her unknown future tumbling through her mind.
Chapter Seven
Mary woke to a room transformed from its appearance in the night. Golden light filtered through the embroidered curtains and bathed everything in a warmth that could not help but raise a smile, even with her head feeling as though it was full of cotton wool. As a child, she had loved the glow this room had had in the mornings.
Her thoughts were derailed by the recollection of Dot and Pea’s concern that she would go off the rails without the focus of her job, and the truth they seemed to be keeping from her. Rather than face this with worry as she had done last night, the morning light seemed to have filled her with new vigour. She would show them that she was more than just an actress whose career was on the slide. She would find out what on earth their little hushed conversation had been about, and she would reinvent herself too. As what? She didn’t know, but even that unknown only seemed exciting, rather than daunting.
She hopped out of bed and moved to the en suite bathroom with its antiquated plumbing and sang to herself as she showered.
A few minutes later and she was stepping out into the hallway where Freddie Hale was standing a couple of doors down, rapping his knuckles on the solid wood in front of him as he had been when she’d retired for bed.
“Have you been there all night, Freddie?!” Mary laughed, thinking of him gently knocking for Melanie in the early hours.
“No,” he said, his face set in grim concern. “Melanie wouldn’t answer me last night, so I gave up, but she’s still not responding.”
Mary looked at her watch. “Well, it is only nine.” She shrugged.
“I don’t care what bloody time it is,” Freddie snapped, “I want to know she’s OK!”
As she looked at this overgrown boy, Mary felt a little sympathy for Freddie. Being in a relationship with Melanie Shaw would be enough to send anyone crazy. It occurred to Mary that maybe Melanie simply didn’t want to see Freddie. She moved down the hall to him and knocked on the door herself as he stepped aside.
“Melanie? It’s Mary. Can you just let us know you’re all right?”
There was no sound from the other side of the door.
“It’s locked, I’ve already tried it,” Freddie said as Mary tried the handle. “I’m going to break it down.”
“Now, just wait a minute,” Mary said, holding her hand out flat to stop Freddie advancing on the door. “Let’s go and ask Pea first, it’s his house after all.”
She realised as she spoke that there was a part of her that was annoyed about this. Of course, she hadn’t really wanted anything to do with the place after her father had gone, but still, it had been her home once too, and now it was Pea’s alone. Despite the money she had regularly contributed to its upkeep, this was no longer the family home. Maybe this was why she avoided coming here now?
“Anyway,” she continued, “maybe he’s got some sort of master key or something.”
She turned and walked the length of the hallway to Pea’s room at the far end of the corridor. She rapped on the door until she heard moaning from inside.
“Bloody hell!” she heard Pea exclaim. “What the hell’s going on? Is there a fire or something?!”
“Just open the door, Pea,” Mary shouted. “It’s an emergency.”
She listened to the muffled sounds of swearing from the other side until a dishevelled, hastily dressed Pea emerged with a pale face and an annoyed frown.
“What’s the matter?!” he said, running his hand through his uncombed hair.
“Melanie’s locked in her room and she’s not answering her door.”
“So? She’s probably just a heavy sleeper or something.”
“Have you got another key to the rooms?”
“Of course I haven’t!” Pea said. “I haven’t turned the place into a hotel!”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea. Anyway, Freddie’s about to barge the door down unless you can think of something else?”
He leaned around her and looked down the corridor to where Freddie was still thumping on the door. The other guests were beginning to appear from their rooms. Emily Hanchurch, Mary noted, emerged from her own room, which was past Melanie’s, and not Steve Benz’s. Steve himself exited his room with Dave Flintock and Dot following closely from theirs.
“What’s happening?” Dot asked, bustling to the front next to Mary and Pea.
“Melanie’s locked in and she’s not replying,” Mary answered.
“She’s probably just hungover and sleeping it off,” Flintock grumbled. He was the only one of the group who was dressed, and a part of Mary’s brain that wasn’t preoccupied with the situation breathed a sigh of relief at not having to see him in his silk robe again.
“Percy,” Freddie said, turning to Pea who was rubbing his eyes and clearly still trying to wake up. “I need to break the door down, she was feeling ill last night and anything could have happ
ened.”
“Yes, of course,” Pea answered miserably, rubbing his forehead. “If we have to.”
As Mary watched Freddie walk back to take a run up, she became aware of a rising sense of panic in her chest. A few laxatives couldn’t actually harm someone, could they? It was only a couple over the recommended dose. Then again, what if it had reacted with some other medication she had been on that Mary didn’t know about? She gripped the front of her dressing gown tightly as Freddie ran at the door, threw his shoulder into it and bounced back across the hallway, landing with a soft moan.
Flintock burst out laughing before catching himself and asking his client if he was OK. Freddie muttered an expletive and pulled himself up, rubbing his shoulder.
“These are solid oak doors,” Dot said, moving to the doorway and peering down at the lock. “You’ll probably break your shoulder before you break this door down.”
“Shall we call a locksmith?” Emily asked anxiously.
“No need,” Mary said before reaching up and pulling a hairpin from Dot’s tight bun. She was now desperate to get inside herself and see what horrors she had caused to Melanie’s digestive system.
“Hey! What on earth are you doing?” Dot exclaimed as her hair fell about her shoulders.
“Has anyone got a sheet of paper?” Mary asked, ignoring her.
“I’ve got some on the desk in my room,” Pea said as he stared at Dot. He tore his gaze from her before hurrying off to get it.
“Are you all right?” Emily said, crouching next to Freddie and looking at his shoulder.
“Fine,” Freddie said irritably, pulling away and standing up. “You’re not seriously suggesting you’re going to be able to pick the lock, are you?” he asked Mary.
“No,” Mary said, her mind whirring, “because there’s no need to.”
She took the sheet of paper from Pea as he returned and slid it under the doorway.
“These doors are thick, but they’re old and there’s a decent gap at the bottom of them,” she continued as she took the hairpin and moved it to the lock. “So, all I need to do is push the key out.” The clanging of metal on wood rang out from the other side of the door. “And then pull the paper out,” she finished, doing as she said and removing the paper, on which rested the key.
Freddie moved down and snatched it up, ramming it into the lock and throwing open the door in a flash.
There was a collective gasp from the small group huddled around the doorway.
There, in the middle of the room, lay Melanie Shaw, a small pool of blood haloed around her head.
“Oh my god!” Freddie said, his weight falling against the doorframe.
Dot rushed forward and bent over the still form of Melanie Shaw.
“She’s dead,” she said coolly. “Somebody phone the police and nobody else come into the room.”
“I’ll call,” Pea said in a shaky voice, walking down the hallway to his bedroom.
“The window’s open,” Steve said, pointing. The group’s eyes moved to the window on the far side of the room where the curtains were flapping in the cool morning breeze.
“It has been a while,” Dot said, “it’s bloody freezing in here.” She got up and made her way back to the door.
“Do you think someone broke in?” Emily said in a horrified voice.
“I’m not sure,” Pea replied. “It would be one heck of a climb up from the outside. She probably fell and hit her head on something. Come on, I think everyone should go downstairs and have a cup of tea. We need to leave everything just as it is for the police.”
There was a muttering of agreements, mostly from people in a state of shock. Mary, on the other hand, was locked in a guilty silence. Could the pills she had given Melanie have caused her to become woozy enough that she would fall and fatally hit her head? She had no idea, but the thought was twisting her stomach into knots. Freddie was leaning against the wall, his eyes wide, his cheeks drawn and pale.
“Come on,” she said to him, taking his arm and turning him away from the door.
“I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head.
“None of us do,” Mary patted his forearm, “let’s just get you sitting down with a cup of tea.”
Which I need as much as you, Mary thought.
Chapter Eight
Mary cradled a cup of tea in her hands and watched from across the room as Dot talked to a uniformed officer. She appeared calm, business-like, as if this were just some small issue at work.
Mary had seen her friend in this mode many times over the years, but never when a dead body had been involved. Mary found her efficiency a little disconcerting given the circumstances.
“I can’t believe this has happened here,” Pea said next to her on the sofa. “Do you think I’ll be charged with manslaughter?”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Pea,” Mary chided. “It wasn’t your fault, accidents like this could happen anywhere at any time.” She took another sip of tea, her hand shaking slightly. She was trying to convince herself more than anyone. Hoping against hope that the laxatives she had given her the night before had not had an effect that had led to Melanie’s death.
“Yes, I guess so,” he sighed. “I just can’t help feeling at least partly responsible. I know the place is a bit rough around the edges, but I didn’t think anyone would get hurt like this.”
Mary frowned as the scene that had confronted them in Melanie’s room flashed across her mind.
“How big is that room do you think, Pea?”
“Which room? Melanie’s? Oh, pretty big as bedrooms go. Why?”
“I’m just wondering about where she was when we opened the door,” Mary said, looking up at the vaulted ceiling in thought.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if she fell down and banged her head, she must have hit it on something, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, what was it? She was lying almost in the middle of the room, her head was about as far away from any piece of furniture as she could be.”
Pea paused before answering. “Maybe she fell, hit her head, and then crawled out into the middle of the floor?” Pea said, looking back at her.
“Maybe,” Mary said in a doubtful voice. “I need some fresh air,” she said suddenly. She rose and placed her teacup on the coffee table in front of her, noticing that she had now caught the attention of the rest of the group who were sitting in various chairs around the space.
“Where are you off to?” Flintock asked, apparently annoyed with the entire world.
“I’m just going to get some fresh air,” Mary replied.
“I don’t think the police will like it if you leave,” Steve Benz said, frowning.
“Oh, I won’t go far,” Mary said dismissively before moving towards the doorway.
She felt Dot, and the officer she was talking to, turn towards her as she passed them.
“Mary?” Dot said, her face full of concerned questioning.
“I just need some fresh air for a minute.”
“I’m afraid no one can…” The officer stopped talking mid-sentence. Mary recognised the familiar face of someone who has just seen someone from one of their favourite TV shows.
“Oh, Miss Blake. Well, I’m sure a few minutes won’t hurt, please don’t go too far though.”
Mary gave him a quick smile and left before Dot could offer to join her. She headed out of the main hall and into the crisp morning air. A thin layer of mist clung to the green grass that sloped away in all directions, but the sky itself was becoming bluer by the minute as the strengthening sun burned off the haze of the morning. The wind that had risen in the night had vanished and left the morning still and calm.
She glanced at the multiple cars in the driveway, now joined by two police cars and turned left, making her way along the front of the building.
She had not wanted to turn right, as it would have brought her past the windows of the sitting room where the rest of the group would have seen
her. She passed the tall library windows and ran her eye over them to ensure that everything was as it should be before she reached the corner of the house and turned left again.
Ahead of her, just visible through the haze, a church steeple peered through the distant trees. She again felt the nostalgic pang of these places that reminded her so much of her childhood.
As a family, they had often walked down to Bloxley village and enjoyed a pint in the pub, The Gardiner’s Arms. That had been before, when her mother had been alive and her father’s mind still as sharp as a tack. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She needed to focus on what was happening now. There was a reason she had come out here, and she needed to see for herself.
She rounded the corner of the building and began looking up. Her eyes landed on the row of first-floor windows and mentally counted along until she was sure she had reached Melanie’s. Her room, she knew, was the only one other than Pea’s on the far side of the building to have two windows, being larger than the others, so she counted three across to find the window to Melanie’s room. This was confirmed as she spotted a uniformed officer pass across the still open window frame. She moved to the wall underneath and looked upwards.
The wall was a sheer and unforgiving surface. Apart from a few areas of crumbling mortar, there were no signs of easy handholds or things to climb. She looked along the wall until she saw an iron drainpipe that ran from the ground to the flat roof above. If someone had scaled it, they might have been able to make it to the window adjacent, but it was two more windows across to Melanie’s room. Unless the attacker was a veritable trapeze artist and able to leap from windowsill to windowsill, Mary couldn’t see how they could possibly have climbed up there. Even then, there was the question of how they could have climbed down again.
“Doesn’t look like someone could make it up there, does it?” a voice said from behind.
Mary spun around and her big toe thwacked into something solid, sending her sprawling on the grass.
