Frank had run his pushchair into the coffee table and managed to tip it
over, and with it two pot plants in ceramic containers. He’d also tipped
himself over and banged his head against a corner of the table. Ellie snatched him up and inspected the damage. He was going to
have a bump there. ‘There, there!’ she said. ‘Granny’s here. Let me kiss it
better.’ She took him into the kitchen and bathed his head. He was scarlet
with fury and hurt. Ellie found a drink and a biscuit for him, which he
rejected. A scoop of ice cream went down better and soon his sobs
subsided as he sat on her knee and kneaded a biscuit into crumbs while
she fed him the soothing mixture.
Ellie glanced at the clock. Time was hurrying on, and she had to be at
the church, showered, properly dressed and in her right mind for the
service in half an hour. Still there was no sign of Stewart.
‘I’ll just have a word with Miss Quicke, then,’ said Ms Willis. ‘Please do. If you can get her to come down. I haven’t got her the clean
towels for her shower yet and she won’t appear till she’s properly groomed
and ready to meet her public.’
‘Forgive me,’ said Ms Willis, in a tone at variance with the words, ‘but
you don’t appear to be taking this matter very seriously.’
‘Oh, I do. I assure you,’ said Ellie, putting the damp cloth to Frank’s
temple again. ‘And if it weren’t for all these domestic chores, I’d probably
be able to put my thinking cap on and help you.’
Ms Willis snorted. ‘We don’t need your kind of help, thank you.’ Ellie lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. Little Frank was clinging to her
like a limpet. His breathing was slowing. He slid further down her lap, still
holding on to her. Was he actually going to have a little nap? The poor
little love.
Also, Praise be, because she needed to get herself ready and to church. Ms Willis said, in her inimitable menacing way, ‘Why do I get the
impression that you’re hiding something? That you know exactly who’s
been tampering with the electrics, and don’t want to tell me? Have you
forgotten that a woman died?’
Ellie sighed. ‘No, I haven’t forgotten, but you’re quite right. I do have a
lot on my mind at the moment and her death was just an accident, wasn’t
it?’
Ms Willis pointed. ‘That kettle wasn’t an accident, was it?’ Ellie had to admit that it wasn’t.
Ms Willis finally left with ‘Dearie’, without having seen Miss Quicke, but
with a promise to return later that day. To which Miss Quicke replied that she would be hither and yon, and she was not prepared to wait in for
anybody.
Surprisingly, Ms Willis kept her temper. Only, as she left with the kettle,
she gave Ellie a sympathetic look. ‘You have your work cut out at the
moment, don’t you?’
Ellie nodded, saw the policewoman out, deposited Frank in his
pushchair and fastened him in. His head lolled to one side. He looked
like a fat cherub, with biscuit crumbs all over his face. He needed changing,
too, but if she tried that he’d wake up …
It could wait.
Ellie dived back into the sitting room, righted the coffee table, scooped
most of the earth back into the flowerpots, took a brush and pan to the
rest, mopped up some spilt water, regretted that the water had stained
the coffee table, but couldn’t stop to polish it again. She stepped backwards
onto the waste-paper basket which immediately upended itself on the
floor.
She could have wept with frustration. Until she saw that among the
debris was a piece of paper, torn into pieces and thrown away. She
pieced the bits together like a jigsaw.
It was a letter, handwritten in the same biro as the discarded envelope
that had been addressed to Miss Quicke. There was an address, some
flat in the same tower block in which Rose lived. No phone number.
‘Dear Miss Quicke,
I am sorry you have no cleaner. I can work for you again, full-time, or move in as discussed. ASAP.
Tracy Samantha Sugden.’ ‘Tracy,’ murmured Ellie to herself. ‘Now where have I heard that name before? Is she one of the cleaners my aunt used to have? Sounds like it. I suppose I may well have seen her at some time. A bit pushy, isn’t she? Aunt Drusilla obviously isn’t interested, or she wouldn’t have torn the letter up.’
Into her mind came the image of the lumpy girl who had accosted her outside Miss Quicke’s. Was that Tracy? Ellie supposed it might have been. She nearly threw the pieces back into the waste-paper basket but had second thoughts. She took them through into the study and put them in a clean envelope in the bureau.
A glance at the clock showed her it was time to get ready for church.
Fourteen
There was the usual fever of excitement and expectation in and around the church as people arrived for the wedding. Women air-kissed one another, tilting their heads so their hats didn’t collide. Cars drew up, failed to find a parking space and disgorged passengers so that the drivers could explore the side roads for a vacancy. Parishioners crowded into the back pews to see Joyce married to the scoutmaster. Those who hadn’t been invited to the reception wore ordinary clothes.
In spite of the March wind, there were lots of summery outfits and hats on view. The ushers wore morning coats, as did the bridegroom. The Reverend Gilbert Adams, back for this one occasion only, stood in the porch, cassock fluttering in the breeze, greeting old friends. Ushers dodged past him, guiding guests to their pews – more or less evenly divided since both parties to the wedding were local born.
Ellie glanced despairingly up and down the road but Stewart’s car was nowhere in sight. Aunt Drusilla had managed to ease herself down the stairs and was now installed in the conservatory with her newspaper and a third cup of coffee. She couldn’t be expected to look after little Frank.
Ellie had tried to raise Diana on her mobile but had no luck. It was switched off. Diana was probably still in bed with Derek Jolley.
‘I really must go,’ Ellie said to her aunt. ‘Tell Stewart I’ve had to take Frank with me to church. I’ll try to find someone to look after him during the service. If not, I’ll have to drop out of singing in the choir.’
Aunt Drusilla nodded. ‘That charming girl Kate said she might pop in later if she’s got any information for me.’
‘Don’t let anyone into the house while I’m gone. Workmen, I mean.’
Aunt Drusilla didn’t reply to that.
Ellie looked over the garden to the church grounds. Dear Rose was descending from a car and straightening her hat – or rather, pushing it further awry. The mother of the bride looked both happy and fraught.
Ellie put her wedding hat into a large plastic bag, hung it from Frank’s pushchair and manoeuvred it down the garden path to the alley. For some reason she was loath to leave the house. Anxiety fluttered along her nerve ends. Surely nothing could happen to Aunt Drusilla if she didn’t let anyone into the house?
She eased the pushchair up into the Green and took the path to the vestry door. If Stewart didn’t arrive by the time she reached the church, she was going to have to make her apologies to the choir … and what about the mess the church hall had been left in last night? She’d thought she might be able to get up there early this morning to put it to rights, but of course that hadn’t happened. She felt both guilty and defiant.
No Stewart. She drew a deep breath and went in by the vestry door, tugging the pushchair behind her. Frank was waking up, grunting and squirming. Pray heaven he didn’t fill his pants again now. W
hen Ellie had been a young mother, everyone automatically trained the children to the potty. Nowadays it seemed you waited for the child to train itself. Which might be fine for some people, but not for a granny with a bad back.
Jean saw her first. ‘Well!’ she exploded. ‘Look who’s here! I thought you of all people could be trusted to clear up last night! You said you would and …’
Ellie opened her eyes wide. ‘I did clear up. Every single cup and saucer and plate was washed and dried and put away and the kitchen left spotless. It took me hours, but I said I would do it and I did. I didn’t know who was supposed to clear up in the hall. I suppose they had to leave early and meant to come back this morning to do it?’
Sympathetic looks were sent in Ellie’s direction and Jean subsided, grumbling. They all knew Ellie would have done her share. They all knew that Jean ought to have found someone else to clear the hall, and she knew that, too.
Mrs Dawes’ majestic head emerged through the neck of her gown. ‘Ellie, you’re late. And why have you got the child with you?’
‘A breakdown in communication between the parents,’ said Ellie. ‘Is there anyone I can leave him with, do you think?’
‘There’s a couple of young mothers who’ve come to see the wedding and are looking after their children at the back of the church. Try them.’
Ellie flew around the outside of the church and found a cluster of young mums with pushchairs making their way into the pews at the back. They did agree to look after young Frank, who had woken up and was eyeing a brightly coloured toy which another boy was holding. Then she fled back to the vestry and rushed into her gown, thanked Mrs Dawes for having found her the right sheets of music and the first hymn in the hymn book, and tried to still her breathing.
Timothy the curate popped his head round the vestry door. ‘Ready, everyone? I don’t think Joyce will be late, do you?’
Everyone smiled or tittered. Joyce was never late.
They filed into the choir pews and looked down the aisle while the organist played for time. The church was reasonably full. Mrs Dawes scanned her flower arrangements, checking to see that none of the flowers had drooped when she’d turned her back on them. White and blue. Of course. There were two magnificent arrangements by the rood screen, and little baskets of flowers on the end of every other pew, all the way down the church.
Rose sat in the front pew with a dour-looking cousin and his wife who’d come up to Town for the occasion and didn’t look as if they were enjoying it. Rose’s hat was still askew. Ellie wanted to jump out of her pew and rush across to give Rose a hug and straighten her hat for her.
The scoutmaster and his best man waited opposite, looking as if they’d got the wrong size shirt collar on, but otherwise neatly turned out. The vicar appeared at the end door, now fully robed.
There was a stir at the big doors. A chill wind lifted skirts and hats. And settled. The organist brought her hands down and everyone stood as the bride entered on Roy’s arm. She was wearing white with a long veil. A very long veil. No wonder they’d had to have a practice for the wedding, or she’d have lost the veil halfway down the aisle. Two bridesmaids in blue, chosen for their homely looks and lumpy figures, by the look of them. They certainly made Joyce look like a film star by contrast.
Joyce looked up at her husband-to-be with a misty smile. At least for the duration of the service it was possible to believe that she would be a loving wife instead of another shrew.
For a second or two, Ellie felt tears gather as she remembered Diana’s wedding to Stewart, not so many years ago. Her dear husband Frank had been so proud, displaying his handsome daughter on his arm as he walked down the aisle. Diana had worn a slender robe of ivory satin with a short veil, and all her flowers had been white … on bridesmaids. Stewart had turned his head to watch her come up the aisle, just as the scoutmaster now turned his head to watch Joyce.
And that was ending in tears.
Ellie prayed that Joyce and the scoutmaster would have a better life. She prayed that Joyce would be understanding and forbearing when required, and that he would be able to stand up to her, assert his rights as an equal partner in the marriage.
Rose had her handkerchief out.
Ellie remembered herself standing in that place, wearing a hat chosen for her by Diana. The same hat she had brought with her this afternoon to wear to the reception. Diana had said, ‘Now, don’t disgrace me, mother …’ and Frank had said, ‘Don’t fuss, Ellie. Who’s going to look at you?’
That thought hurt. Frank had sometimes been a little unkind. Without meaning it, of course. It just showed what a good marriage hers had been, her making allowances for things he didn’t really mean, and his taking good care of her.
Well, it was one sort of marriage. Not the sort she understood they usually had nowadays, with both parties claiming pole position and only too ready to seek divorce if they didn’t get it.
Ellie listened to the old, old words of the marriage service and slipped into prayer for those about to be married and those thinking of divorce. For all her friends. For her family. Especially for poor, unhappy Diana … who was probably at that very moment having it off with Derek Jolley …
No, perhaps not on a Saturday. Estate agents were always very busy on a Saturday. Perhaps he’d asked Diana to help him out, show customers around houses for sale?
Ellie thought she heard Frank give a yell of frustration during the anthem. Her first impulse was to go to him but she couldn’t, hemmed in as she was by the substantial figure of Mrs Dawes on one side, and an equally large alto on the other.
She began to fret about Stewart’s absence. Where was he? It wasn’t like him to forget his son. How much longer before they could all be released from the service?
After the service there was the usual interminable wait while the photographer posed the newly married couple in the doorway of the church. No one could leave till they had finished that.
Ellie stripped off her gown in the vestry, and rescued her handbag. Pretty nearly all the choir had been invited to go on to the reception, but Ellie’s mind was on little Frank, wailing at the back of the church. How could she have left him for so long? She ought never to have sung in the choir. Her first duty must always be to look after her family.
She almost ran down one of the aisles inside the church to the back – the photographer was still holding everyone up in the porch and no one could get out. Frank had by this time got to the stage of red-faced yelling. Ellie rescued him, unstrapped him from his pushchair, and tried to soothe him. She apologized to the two young marrieds who’d been trying to keep him quiet and thanked them for looking after him. All the time she was wondering what had happened to Stewart.
Instead of waiting for the main door to clear, Ellie carried Frank back to the vestry, tugging the pushchair after her. Then out through the vestry door into the sunlight. The wind was keen, but the daffodils were quite a sight.
Round the corner of the church she could hear whoops of laughter as confetti was thrown over the newly married couple by the guests, to be captured on film and video by photographs both amateur and professional.
Ellie put Frank down, encouraging him to toddle along beside her. He couldn’t walk far yet, but the effort usually wore him out satisfactorily, and she really couldn’t carry him that far, no, she really couldn’t.
His attention was caught by the daffodils. He strutted among them, somewhat unsteadily, making whooshing sounds. Ellie hoped he wasn’t going to move into destructive mode.
Where on earth was Stewart?
She encouraged Frank to walk along by the pushchair, holding on to it. Making remarks about ‘din-dins’ soon. Frank loved his food. He grabbed a daffodil and tore it off its stalk, retaining just the head in his hand. Stood and stared at it. Picked at it. Tasted it.
Were daffodils poisonous? Ellie hoped not. No, she remembered now. It was the bulb that was poisonous, not the flower.
She tried to urge Frank on, but he wouldn’t
budge. Daffodils were something new to him. So brightly coloured. He breathed heavily, exploring the feeling of this new toy.
Ellie almost danced with impatience, but controlled herself. There was no use trying to hurry a toddler. And toddlers couldn’t understand the notices that were all over the Green, ‘Please do not pick the flowers’.
Eventually Frank consented to move on a few paces and there, thank goodness, came Stewart striding up through the trees, looking anxiously around for them.
‘Ellie, you’ve got him safe? Such a terrible thing happened … no, no. Nothing that desperate, don’t look so alarmed.’ He picked up little Frank and gave him a hug. Frank dropped the remains of his daffodil and crowed with pleasure.
Stewart seized the pushchair in one hand and set off back to Ellie’s house, throwing words over his shoulder at Ellie. ‘I was on time, well, early in fact, and just on my way back here to relieve you when Diana rang me.’
‘She rang you?’
‘I couldn’t believe it was her at first. The thing was, she said she was being taken to the police station for questioning, she didn’t know how long she was going to be, and would I fetch her!’
Ellie gasped. Her worst fears had been realized. ‘You mean, they’ve arrested her?’
‘I shot down there, of course, but I couldn’t get them to admit it or deny it. They said she was helping them with their enquiries. This was about half past eleven.’
Ellie tried to get her mind working again. ‘Why did she ring you? I gave her the number of my solicitor.’
‘Did you? She said she didn’t know who else to ring.’ His voice was grim. ‘I suppose I ought to be flattered.’
‘But …’ Too many questions, too few answers.
He opened the gate into Ellie’s garden. ‘I couldn’t get through to you – you’d got your mobile switched off. I tried ringing Derek Jolley, thinking he ought to take responsibility for her now, but his secretary said he was out all day today. I tried ringing Great-Aunt Drusilla, but she’s permanently on the phone. I couldn’t remember the name of your solicitor. I knew it was Bill something … but what? So I prayed you’d be able to look after little Frank for a bit longer. I waited around for a bit, at the police station, trying all three of you again. Then I thought it best to come back here, see what you think we ought to do.’
Murder By Accident Page 19
