The Philosophy of Disgrace

by Ann Troup

  Angela had to dig deep for another tissue to stem Edie’s renewed bout of crying. ‘What happened to Del?’

  ‘They took her to hospital, took the baby away there. They took her womb too. Val had really messed her up. She was fifteen, we were all fifteen.’

  ‘Why didn’t she report it?’ Angela wanted to know.

  ‘She was ashamed. Her mother was dying, she thought her family would disown her’.

  ‘But surely they found out? She was in hospital.’ Angela reasoned.

  Edie shook her head, ‘Lena went round there, told her dad Del was staying with them because of her mother being ill. He was grateful, Lena helped him nurse Elsie, right up to when she died. Del stayed in hospital the whole time, never told a soul, kept her mouth shut even when the doctors called your lot in. She never said a word. Never saw her mum again either. She discharged herself the day she died. Course the doctor came round, told her dad all about it, no confidentiality back then. He beat her black and blue and threw her out on the street, never spoke to her again, wouldn’t even let her go to her own mother’s funeral. I don’t know what happened to her after that, never saw her again.’ She said with a loud sniff.

  Angela handed Edie another tissue and wondered who the tears were for, Del Brent, or herself.

  The old woman just sat in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘Well well well.’ Was all she said.

  Angela had been expecting some kind of moral tirade, but it seemed Edie’s story had shocked her mother into something near silence.

  ‘What happened to Lena, and Valerie after that?’

  ‘To be honest I didn’t have much to do with them, I sort of kept my distance from them. I do know that Del got money from her, money to keep her mouth shut. I can’t say I blame her, she had to live on something. As for Val, I know she had a kid, which was weird given what Lena did for money.’

  ‘Perhaps what happened to Del put her off.’ Angela suggested.

  Edie just shrugged. ‘Dunno. Maybe. She married some rich bloke, I know that much.’

  She got more than she bargained for though, Angela thought. ‘What about Del, what happened to her?’

  Edie shrugged, ‘Not sure, it’s all such a long time ago, we’re talking about the 1950’s.’

  The old woman spoke, ‘I know what happened to her, she went on the game, had a pimp called Barrington Jones, big black fella. She shacked up with him, supposed to have married him, but I never believed it. He had women all over, poncing of all of them. Nasty piece of work he was, rough. Got himself killed in a fight. They found him dumped in an alley with his head stoved in. I remember that like it was yesterday.’ She mused.

  ‘Ask her what she had for breakfast this morning and she wouldn’t be able to tell you’. Edie whispered to Angela with a brave little smile.

  The cogs in Angela’s mind seemed to be on a go slow, it took several seconds for her to put two and two together. ‘Was Del short for Delia by any chance?’

  ‘That’s right. Delia Brent, we always called her Del.’ Edie said, before blowing her nose loudly into her tissue.

  Angela had certainly established the link between Valerie Porter and Delia Jones, and quite a disturbing one at that. Now, sitting here at Rachel’s bedside, she wondered if William Porter had known that he was marrying an abortionist’s daughter, well niece to be correct, but even so... She wouldn’t mind betting that Valerie had kept that quiet from her new family.

  The story definitely explained the connection between the two women, and gave quite a picture of Valerie’s early years. What it didn’t explain was Delia’s loyalty to the Porters, by rights she should hate them. Valerie had ruined her life, might well have killed her in fact. No wonder Valerie had felt obliged to employ her, it would have been the least she could do.

  It was only at this stage, as she was mulling things over, pitching the story in her head that an obvious fact occurred to her. Charlie. If Edie had been telling the truth about Delia, how on earth had Charlie come into the picture?

  She needed to get hold of Ratcliffe, talk it through with him. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt if she left the ward for a few minutes. After all, she didn’t even know what she was doing there in the first place. Did Ratcliffe think Rachel was going to come round and suddenly reveal some big secret that would be the final key to the whole case?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ratcliffe had drafted in another DS to assist with the interview, Benton wasn’t around, besides she’d shown a decided lack of interest in the twists and turns of this case, so he’d just nabbed someone out of the office who wasn’t doing anything better. The Sergeant in question was one Nick Haddon, nice kid in Ratcliffe’s opinion, not pushy, and that was just what he needed, someone quiet who would let him do the talking.

  They were in the interview room, he’d done the blurb for the tape, and had explained yet again to Frances what her rights were, and what would happen to the tapes. She had responded affirmatively to all his questions so far. ‘Now, Mrs Haines, Frances, you stated to me earlier, in the presence of PC Kelly, that you were willing to explain the circumstances of Roy Baxter’s death.’

  ‘Yes.’ She said, leaning slightly towards the recorder so that she could be sure that it had picked up her answer.

  Ratcliffe wanted to tell her that there was no need, but he didn’t want to put her off.

  ‘Go on’. He urged.

  Frances closed her eyes, if she had to talk about this, she had to go back to it, re run it in her head like a scene from a film. ‘After Patsy Jones’ death Roy had become increasingly unhappy, very aggressive, and unpredictable. He was often violent towards Stella, and though he’d never physically attacked any of the rest of us, we were all very afraid of him. He could send Rachel into a fit just by looking at her. Most of the time we would just stay out of his way. He’d got it into his head that mother had money hidden somewhere in the house, started tearing the place apart, shouting and yelling at everyone, kicking the furniture. Mother was yelling back at him, telling him that he’d had everything she had and that there was no more. Anyway, he went upstairs and tried to get into her bedroom. She always kept it locked, none of us were allowed in there, it was her private space.

  There was a scuffle on the landing and he hit mother, he wanted the key to her room, convinced she had cash hidden in there. I tried to pull him off her, but he pushed me to the ground, he was dragging mother along the landing by her arm, she was screaming and screaming. Stella was there too, she just curled herself up into a ball in the corner, she always did when he got started. Anyway, I don’t really remember how it all happened but Delia appeared out of nowhere, I didn’t even know she was in the house. She had the iron in her hand, must have picked it up from downstairs, I think Stella had been ironing a shirt for him. That’s what he wanted money for, he wanted to go out. Anyway, she hit him, hard, over the back of the head. He fell on the floor. I remember getting up and going over to him, he was out cold. I felt for a pulse, I couldn’t find one. I thought he was dead’.

  Ratcliffe interrupted, ‘are you telling us that Delia Jones killed Roy Baxter?’ it was hard to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

  ‘Please, I haven’t finished’. She said impatiently, eyes still closed, still picturing the scene.

  ‘He lay on the floor not moving. She stood there with the iron in her hand. Mother was hysterical, I was terrified. It had been bad enough when Patsy had died, now there was another body. I didn’t think any of us could face all that again. Mother kept saying, ‘get rid of him, get rid of him’ so we did. Delia and I dragged him downstairs. We rolled him onto an old blanket and carried him on that. I thought we were going to bury him, or put him in the boot of his car and dump it somewhere, but Delia said no, there was too much risk he would be found. She told me how long it would take to dig a grave, how hard it would be. I had no idea, I had never disposed of a corpse before. Mother had the idea of using the trunk. Delia and I dragged him out there, and lifted him in. I c
an remember how heavy he was, a dead weight. Oh my god, I remember now!’ she gasped and put her hand over her mouth, ‘Delia had gone outside, I was on my own, trying to force his arms into the trunk, but they were stiff, it was really hard. He woke up! He grabbed my wrist. I screamed. I thought he was dead. But he grabbed me. I think I must have passed out. I vaguely remember Delia with a shovel in her hands. I think she must have hit him again. Anyway, I went inside, made a cup of tea.’ She gave a slight laugh at the incongruity of this part of the memory. ‘Delia and mother covered him in salt. Rock salt, the kind used for gritting roads. God knows why but he’d bought tons of the stuff, had it stored in one of the sheds. I think it must have been one of his dodgy deals. Mother seemed to think it would stop him rotting, stop him causing a smell. Like curing bacon she said, which was what you did with dead pigs.’

  ‘What happened then?’ Ratcliffe asked.

  ‘We drank tea. Agreed that we would say he’d left. Stella packed his clothes and his things; we put it in the car. Delia drove it somewhere, got rid of it. I don’t know where. I didn’t care. That’s what we told Rachel, that he’d just left. She was the only person who ever asked where he’d gone. The next time I saw him was when we cleared the house.’

  ‘But you knew the body was there, you knew he would be found.’

  ‘Yes. Of course I knew.’

  ‘Why didn’t you report his murder to the police at the time?’ This was from DS Haddon.

  ‘It wasn’t an option’.

  ‘Why not?’ he demanded.

  ‘Mother would never have allowed it. Besides we were all involved, all implicated. We all played a part in it.’

  ‘But it was Delia Jones who struck the blow, only she killed him.’ Ratcliffe stated.

  ‘Delia Jones had struck many blows. She had my mother in the palm of her hand, Stella was more terrified of her than she was of Roy. None of us argued with Delia, not if we knew what was good for us.’

  ‘I don’t understand, she was your cleaner.’ Haddon said, glancing down at the file in his hand.

  ‘That’s what people were told, that’s what we allowed them to believe. But Delia was never a cleaner. Not for us anyway. Mother called her “my nemesis”. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know, but she had some hold over her, over all of us. She knew all our secrets, all our weaknesses. She made threats to expose things, things that would hurt us.’

  ‘Like what?’ Ratcliffe asked, he was curious now, he still didn’t believe a word of it, but he was curious.

  ‘I don’t know what Stella told you when she was here, but it doesn’t matter now, it’s not going to hurt her or mother. Her father used to rape her. We all knew, but no one did anything. Mother despised him by then, and so did I. Not that I understood what was happening at the time, I just thought he preferred her to me. You know that Rachel is their daughter I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, that has been confirmed.’ Ratcliffe said.

  ‘Well Delia knew too, she and mother delivered Rachel. I can remember sitting on the attic stairs, listening to Stella scream. Rachel didn’t cry when she was born and it’s my fault she lived. They didn’t know I was there. I saw Delia come out of the room with mother. She had a bag, an old shopping bag, one of those with the zip across. She put it on the floor on the landing. Father was still there then, he was shouting downstairs, he was drunk. They went down. When they had gone, I crept down the stairs and looked in the bag. There was a towel inside, it was moving. Just slightly, but it was moving. I opened it up and saw a baby there. I hadn’t even known Stella was pregnant, I just thought she was getting fat. I was only fourteen. I picked it up, the baby, I was fascinated. I could hear Stella crying in her room, so I went in. She was crying for the baby so I gave it to her. She told me they had tried to kill it. Delia had held the towel over its mouth when it was born, and had put it in the bag. Mother had told her to get rid of it. Stella told me to lock the door, so I did. We locked them out. I asked Stella where it had come from. She told me about her and father. I didn’t know much at the time, but I knew that was wrong. I can’t really remember how it all came about, but Mother threw father out that night, I think he went to the flat above the shop for a while. She agreed to let Stella keep the baby, but only if we all pretended it was hers. Delia had to agree because Stella and I both said we would go to the police if anything happened to it. So that was Rachel. I’ve often wondered if that was the cause of her epilepsy, what Delia did to her when she was born. Anyway, we all had something on each other then. Delia had something on mother, we had something on her. We were all tied together in a great big mess. By the time Roy got killed, it was a way of life.’

  ‘What did Delia want from your mother?’

  ‘Money. It’s what everyone wanted, her, Roy, Patsy. They all did. It was why we never had any. Too many hands in the pot.’

  ‘What did Patsy Jones have to do with it?’ Haddon wanted to know, he was still playing catch up from the file.

  ‘She found out about Rachel’s parentage. She and Roy were going to run off together, she was convinced there must be money to be had somewhere. Roy hadn’t managed to bully it out of us, so she did some rooting, put two and two together and came up with four. She tried to blackmail mother. Mother just laughed at her, so she tried Stella, threatened to have Rachel taken into care. Stella had pretty much lost the plot by then. Rachel was the only thing she lived for. She panicked; it was Stella who killed Patsy. She got a kitchen knife and stabbed her, left her in the hallway, then went to pick Rachel up from school as if it never happened. Of course, Charlie found her there, and he was charged with killing her. But it wasn’t him.’

  ‘You knew this and you let an innocent man go to prison?’ Haddon asked.

  ‘She was family; he was the son of a woman who had dominated us for years. He was nothing, Patsy was nothing. What would you have done?’

  She said it so calmly, as if it were a matter of fact, it stood to reason, that for a fraction of a second Ratcliffe felt himself inclined to see her point. ‘Did you witness Stella kill Patsy?’

  ‘No, but I knew she had. She was the only one in the house; everyone else was out. She did tell me though, later. I knew it wasn’t Charlie, I saw him walk into the house just before Stella and Rachel did’.

  It was as if she was describing an average, normal event, like the dustbin being collected on a Monday.

  ‘So did you keep your mouth shut to get some kind of vicarious revenge on Delia Jones?’ Ratcliffe asked.

  ‘Maybe, I don’t know. It just seemed simpler to allow things to take the course they did.’

  Ratcliffe was having trouble getting his head round just how fucked up this family was. Haddon was flicking through the file like a mad thing, trying to bring himself up to speed with all the characters in this mad play.

  ‘What about the other body. The child. What can you tell us about that?’ Haddon asked.

  Frances looked thoughtful. ‘I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I honestly didn’t know anything about it, but I think it must be down to mother. She had a miscarriage, or that’ what I was told. I was quite young when it happened, it wasn’t that long after she married father. I do remember her being quite big. I wonder now if maybe it wasn’t a miscarriage but a stillbirth. She desperately wanted a son. She even called Rachel Daniel all the time. I don’t think she ever really got over the miscarriage, it was when things really started to go down- hill. When Delia arrived. Yes, I think it was around that time. In fact, I think it was Delia who helped her through it. I think he was still born and she kept him. It was after that we were never allowed in her room. She would spend hours up there, every day.’

  Ratcliffe had a macabre image in his head that he just couldn’t shake off. ‘So you didn’t know about the existence of the other body?’

  ‘Not until my husband informed me no. Where is my husband anyway?’

  Ratcliffe looked away, didn’t speak.

  ‘He’s left me hasn’t he? I thought he might.’ S
he said with unreasonable resignation. ‘He never did like a mess.’

  Ratcliffe leaned forward. ‘You’ve told us quite a story Frances. There’s only one problem, there is no one who can corroborate it.’

  ‘Oh yes, my mother can.’

  ‘Your mother is dead Mrs Haines’. Haddon said coldly.

  ‘Yes, I realise that. But she kept a diary. I didn’t find it in the house, so it must have been with the other body. It’s all in there.’

  If there hadn’t been a tape running, Ratcliffe would have sworn. He would have uttered the worst, most profane words in his vocabulary. ‘A diary’. Was all he said.

  ‘Yes, it’s red, with a little lock.’

  ‘So we’re looking for a red diary in a house that’s just burned down?’ He added.

  Frances shrugged. ‘She will have left it with the other body’. Ratcliffe knew for a fact that there had been no diary with that body, just like he knew there had been no ring on Roy Baxter’s finger. He had stuck his neck out to listen to a fairytale. ‘So what do you think happened to Stella? And who do you think burned down The Limes?’ he asked, unable to hide the weariness in his voice.

  ‘Delia Jones of course. It’s why I asked you to place someone with Rachel. She’s not safe. Now that Roy’s body has been found none of us are safe. She killed Stella, she burned down the house to hide any other evidence. And she’s out to get Rachel. She knows we’ll talk. None of us has anything to lose’.

  ‘But Rachel doesn’t know any of this, why would she be at risk?’ Or was there something Rachel hadn’t told them, Ratcliffe wondered.

  ‘No, she doesn’t know anything. But she is back on the scene, with Charlie. Delia won’t allow that. Rachel is a threat.’

  Ratcliffe suspended the interview there. He had heard enough. If he had been allowed to, he would have thrown both tapes in the bin there and then. Back in the office, he apologised to Haddon.

  ‘S’alright Guv. Quite entertaining really. I’ve always wanted to be in on a case where the butler did it. It was a bit like Cluedo in there, housekeeper, on the landing, with the iron.’ He laughed.