Down to the Sea

by Sue Lawrence

  ‘But how do you know the companion had died?’

  ‘Well, the Yank moved in while we were moving all our furniture and so on from our house and she said she had inherited the house from her great aunt, presumably the companion. There was no one else to ask, so we just assumed that was the truth.’

  ‘And was it not?’

  ‘It can’t have been, Rona. The Yank’s obviously been lying all these years and the great aunt must have been that poor old lady Ian and your husband rescued from the fire.’

  ‘Who told you about the fire?’

  The staff had been briefed not to say a thing about what had happened and if anyone asked about Jessie, they were just to say she was a temporary resident, staying until her family made their house wheelchair-friendly.

  ‘Never mind who said, it’s not important.’

  Ian was becoming a bit of a gossip. Rona would speak to him.

  Mrs Bell removed her spectacles and wiped the lenses on her cardigan. ‘Where is the American?’

  ‘That’s what we’d all like to know. Especially Jessie.’

  ‘Who’s Jessie?’

  ‘That’s the name of the lady in Room 10. From the fire.’

  ‘I see. Well then, it isn’t the same woman. If I recall, her name was Miss Janet Mc-something-or-other.’

  ‘No, that’s her, but she likes to be called Jessie.’

  ‘Can’t you ask her about the Yank?’

  ‘She refuses to speak – or can’t, somehow. The doctor says it might just be the shock, so we don’t want to push her.’

  ‘Curious. And yet I recall one of my great nieces refused to speak till she was four. They called it selective mutism. Caused by anxiety, the doctors said. Milly’s now a barrister so obviously her condition has gone. I am sure Jessie will get better.’ Mrs Bell lifted her head and stared at Rona. ‘But as for the American, can’t someone go into the house and check to see if she’s still in there but refusing to answer the door?’

  ‘She must’ve gone, I mean otherwise she’d have no food or anything.’

  ‘She’s a cunning person. I only met her twice before I came across her in here again, but both times I mistrusted her greatly. One of those times she even made a pass at my husband, who, I have to say, lapped it up. Ridiculous. He must have been forty years older than she.’

  So it wasn’t just Craig and Ian she flirted with. Rona stood up. ‘Thanks, Mrs Bell. And I’m going to read through your husband’s papers tonight. There’s always been something getting in my way.’

  ‘He may even have included an addendum about the Yank, since she came to the house while we were moving into our bungalow.’

  ‘I’ll have a read tonight.’

  ‘And Rona, why not get Craig to go up into the attic after dark? See if there is any sign of life? I’m sure you can see the lodge house and garden from up there.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Rona and Craig sat at the table after dinner, discussing baby names.

  ‘I really don’t like Henry, sounds like some fat king. Far too southern-sounding for my Hebridean relatives anyway.’

  ‘Hamish?’ Craig was smirking.

  ‘Now you’re talking!’ They both clinked glasses of milk and smiled at each other.

  ‘And girls’ names – I really like Emma or Hannah.’

  ‘Not sure. Didn’t you have a girlfriend called Emma?’

  ‘Yes but …’

  ‘No way.’ Rona laughed and stretched. ‘Anyway, once we’ve cleared the plates away, can you nip up to the attic just as Mrs Bell suggested, please?’

  ‘I’ll wait till it’s darker. If Martha’s in there, she’d only put a light on if it was pitch black. Maybe just before we go to bed.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Craig took the glass from Rona’s hands. ‘You go and sit next door, get your feet up. Look through that history stuff you’re keen to read. I’ll do the dishes.’

  Rona was only too glad to follow orders. She wandered through to the living room, picked up Mr Bell’s folder of notes, flicked through to where she had left the story and spread out the pages. It was the mid 1870s before Wardie House had been converted into a poorhouse.

  Isabella Ramsay, the elder of the Ramsay sisters, had discovered that her brother had had an affair with the captain’s wife and that the woman was making slanderous accusations about him; when she was widowed he had refused to marry her and had finished their liaison. Isabella suggested Andrew Ramsay give the woman some expensive jewellery in order to placate her. The family thought that was that, until the woman arrived in Edinburgh one day to have a meeting with the editor of The Scotsman, who ran a full-page article about the fact that she had been given a diamond by Andrew Ramsay, the owner of the illustrious jeweller Ramsays. The trouble was the diamond, although large and striking, was not real. Paste diamonds in the late nineteenth century were made from artificial lead glass moulded into the shape of a diamond and polished. When set into a piece of jewellery with a closed back setting, it was difficult to see the artificial coating underneath the stone. The mistress had been to a jewellers to have it valued, which was when she discovered the treachery. She had gone to the newspaper to publicly shame him. It worked and the public disgrace brought the family business into disrepute.

  They sold on the jewellery business but Andrew and Isabella Ramsay decided that, in order to keep the house, they would convert it into a poorhouse and they would become Governor and Matron. They believed their status in the community would rise since their work was charitable and was endorsed by the local churches. They presumed that their lack of finances was temporary and soon they could regain their splendid house for themselves, perhaps after a few years.

  Before their demise, the Ramsay family had boasted of a precious family diamond. This was a large, rough South African diamond that had arrived at the port of Leith with Ramsay’s South African mother who died in childbirth. It was cut in Amsterdam soon after her arrival and was an extremely valuable 15.5 carat ‘round’ cut diamond.

  In 1899 another scandal hit the Ramsay family. This caused the poorhouse to shut its doors and occurred around the same time that the Ramsay family diamond mysteriously disappeared.

  The scandal that took place in 1899 involved—

  ‘Rona, Mrs Bell’s idea was genius.’ Craig sat down on the sofa beside her. ‘There was a really faint light at the back in the kitchen. She must be in there with a torch. Want me to go round now?’

  Rona looked up at the clock. ‘Why don’t we both go round first thing?’ She yawned. ‘Let’s go to bed, I’d no idea it was so late.’

  Chapter 38

  1899

  ‘You’ve got to go and take that dress off right now, Effie.’ Jessie was fighting the urge to scream; she had to remain calm. ‘Do you have any other clothes in this house?’

  Effie was staring at the bloodied body of Matron, her mouth wide open. She stepped aside and beckoned for Jessie to follow her. Together they walked round the body then out and along a dim corridor.

  They entered a small room with a bed and wardrobe. Effie opened the wardrobe and pulled out a plain gown. She unbuttoned her dress with trembling fingers, shuffled it off then slipped on the other. Jessie buttoned it up then Effie handed her bloodied dress to Jessie who took it and held it at arm’s length. ‘Come and wash your hands, Effie. We’ve got to go back into the kitchen now and think what to do.’

  In the kitchen, they twisted their heads away as they stepped around Matron’s body. Effie washed her hands at the small sink. Jessie opened a drawer and took out a couple of kitchen knives. She held each one up, measuring them, then put one back. ‘Do you know when the Governor usually comes back home?’

  ‘On one of his nights down at Leith – late.’ Effie was drying her hands, which were still shaking, on a cloth. ‘He’ll be in a drunken stupor when he returns. He always goes straight to bed with all his clothes on.’

  Jessie bent over Matron’s body with the kitchen knife. She screw
ed her face up in disgust as she inserted the knife into one of the deepest gashes in Matron’s dress where blood was flowing. You’re gutting a herring, Jessie, that’s all, she told herself, trying to steel herself against the horror. She turned her head away as she twisted the handle, then removed the knife, now daubed with blood.

  Jessie then went out into the corridor and laid the knife on the floor just beneath the gas lamp. She lifted her smock up, wiped the handle all over and then went to the front door and looked back. Yes, it was visible from there. Surely he would pick it up.

  For the first time, Jessie looked down at her own clothes. Her dress was black all over, covered in soot and coal dust. There was soot on the floor. There was no time for her to change. She ran and fetched a broom at the back door and began to sweep.

  Effie was standing, immobile, gazing down at the blood that had seeped into stagnant puddles around her sister’s body.

  Jessie put the broom back and came to stand beside her.

  ‘Effie, this is what we need to do.’ Effie scratched her fingernails on the wooden table. ‘I will go down the tunnel to Newhaven with the gutting knife. I’ll get rid of it down there and I’ll take your dress too. I’ll think about what to do with that.’

  Effie’s face was pinched as she swivelled her head from side to side. ‘But Winzie, they’re going to blame you. If you run off, they’ll blame you. They’ll come and find you.’

  ‘I’ll come back. I’ll come back tonight and get into bed and then I’ll say I know nothing. You can go back down to the cellar or into bed here. When the Governor comes back, he’s bound to pick up the knife. Then he’ll get the blame.’

  Effie nodded.

  ‘Is that what you want?’

  Effie nodded again. ‘He laughed when she killed my baby.’

  ‘If you’re asked what happened, say you have no idea, you were down in the cellar. But then you might be asked if it was possible he could have killed his sister in a rage and you could say he was drunk.’

  ‘Drunk. Yes, yes, he’s often intoxicated. He used to hit me when I scratched his walls after he had been drinking. No one else would see, only Bella and I knew. Yes, Andrew will be inebriated.’ Effie screwed up her face. ‘Will everything be in order, Winzie?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s all we can do. I’m going back down the tunnel now and I’ll be back to bed before he gets home. Are you going to be all right, Effie?’

  Effie nodded then looked up, her eyes narrow. ‘She deserves it. They both do. They killed my baby. We loved each other you know, Paul and I. He was the most wonderful artist; he taught me so much. He had to go back to France when they found out about the baby.’ She began to scratch up and down her dress. ‘I often wonder what happened to him.’

  There was the booming noise of a foghorn again and Jessie headed for the coal cellar. She wrapped the gutting knife in the bloodied dress and bent down as she came to the little door. ‘Go now, Effie, back to the pram in the big cellar. Stay down there. And shut this door behind me.’

  Jessie cowered down to go through the little door then as she clambered over the coals and into the pitch black of the tunnel, she could hear the key turning in the lock. She held out her hand with the knife wrapped in the dress, like an unlit torch, all the while wondering if the curse would ever leave her.

  Chapter 39

  1982

  Rona and Craig shut the door to Wardie House and headed round the corner towards the lodge house. Donnie the postman was coming out of Martha’s gate carrying a parcel.

  ‘Good job I saw you. Could you take this in for Miss Sinclair please? There’s no one answering her door.’

  Craig reached out to take the parcel. ‘No problem. I know you’ve not been on this round too long, Donnie, but do you know if Miss Janet McCallister’s been getting post at the lodge house too?’

  Donnie moved his glasses up his nose and peered at them through thick lenses. ‘Yes, but not often. Why?’

  ‘It’s just that no one’s seen anyone else living in the lodge house. Just Martha.’ Rona smiled in encouragement.

  ‘Oh, I saw them both. But just the once. It was really foggy, I could hardly see the end of my nose. I was on the afternoon post and was popping a letter through the box just as the door was opening. I saw Miss Sinclair beside a wheelchair with an old lady in it. As soon as she saw it was me, she pushed the wheelchair to one side, grabbed the letter from me then slammed the door in my face.’

  ‘So that was the only time?’ Rona continued.

  ‘Yes and the next time I had something for her, Miss Sinclair opened the door to me by herself and she apologised. She was so sweet, said how her aunt was staying with her and she wasn’t feeling well. She was worried she’d catch a cold in the thick fog. She was really nice about it, ran off to get me some delicious little chocolate cakes to take away with me. Brownies, I think she called them. My oh my, they were delicious. Doreen and I really enjoyed them. An American recipe, she said it was.’ Donnie looked at his watch. ‘Must be getting on, I’ve got to meet the van driver for the afternoon deliveries. He’s always telling me I’m late. Bye, then.’

  They walked along the path to Martha’s house. Rona pulled Craig’s sleeve and whispered, ‘So presumably she won’t answer the door. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Let’s just wait and see.’

  They placed the parcel on the mat, then knocked on the door and rang the bell. As anticipated, there was no reply.

  ‘Did you go round the back before?’ Craig asked.

  ‘Yes and you can’t see a thing, all the curtains are drawn.’ Rona followed Craig around the back and watched him hammer on the door. He went over to the bin in the garden and looked in. It was full of bin bags. ‘Looks like she didn’t put the bin out yesterday.’

  ‘She’s obviously not inside, she’d have answered. Let’s go.’

  ‘Rona, I’m positive she’s in there but not answering. Where else could she have gone?’

  Craig gestured for them to go round the front of the house again and bent down close to Rona. ‘Go and open and shut the gate then come back here quickly,’ he muttered. Once she had returned, he whispered, ‘You watch the front windows, I’m going to watch the back ones.’

  They both stared at the windows with their fully drawn curtains until, just as Craig predicted, there was a flicker of movement from one at the back.

  Craig bounded over to hammer on the door again. ‘Martha, open the door! We need to speak to you.’ Rona joined him round the back. Craig hammered again on the door. ‘I know you’re in there, Martha. Open the door or I’ll have to call the police.’

  Slowly the door creaked open and Martha stood there in a towelling dressing gown, pale and without a scrap of make-up, her hair lank and unkempt. She seemed to have aged ten years in the intervening two days since the fire.

  ‘Are you okay, Martha?’ Rona whispered.

  ‘Not really. I’ve been ill since the fire and everything still stinks of smoke inside and my asthma is back and …’

  ‘Then open the windows, for God’s sake, let in the air,’ shouted Craig as he forced the door wide open and pushed past her. He leant over the sink, yanked the curtains back and unlocked the window, opening it wide. Rona stood at the kitchen door. The dingy kitchen obviously had not been changed since the 1950s. Only the cooker looked relatively new. Craig unclasped another window lock and pushed the pane wide.

  Rona turned her focus to Martha, who had taken a seat at the small table. Martha looked up through the mat of uncombed hair. ‘Sorry. I know you’d come to see me but look at me, I couldn’t answer the door like this.’

  ‘It’s all right, Martha,’ Rona said, patting her shoulder. She must be really ill, Rona thought, as Martha started to snivel.

  ‘Yes, you could have answered the door. And you could have answered the phone,’ Craig yelled. ‘Were you not even interested in what had happened to Janet McCallister?’

  ‘I saw you two and Ian wheel her into Wa
rdie House, so I knew she’d be all right.’

  ‘That was two days ago, why the hell have you not made contact?’

  Martha shook her head. ‘I couldn’t, I just couldn’t, I didn’t feel up to it.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

  Craig opened his mouth to speak but Rona held up her hand.

  ‘Martha, you’re obviously not well. And this place still stinks of smoke, it can’t be healthy for you.’

  Craig went out into the corridor. ‘I’ll go round and open all the windows. You need to air the house, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Martha, d’you want to come and stay with us for a night or two? Just till you get better?’ Rona felt sorry for the woman before her, a shadow of her former confident self. ‘I’m sure it’d help Janet’s recovery too.’

  ‘What’s she been saying?’

  ‘Nothing, that’s the trouble, she won’t speak. But perhaps if you came to see her, you could get some more out of her? And, in fact, could you get some of her clothes and things from her bedroom?’

  Martha nodded. ‘All right, I’ll shove some stuff in a bag. And then I’ll come to Wardie House for a couple of nights. I’ll be able to sleep in clean, fresh air.’ She stood up and glanced in a tiny mirror on the wall behind. ‘Give me half an hour though, guys. I look 100 years old.’

  Chapter 40

  1899

  Molly sat at the kitchen table, wringing her hands. ‘How could this have happened, Jessie? How? I just don’t understand why he would have killed her. And in such a horrible way.’ Molly wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. ‘I mean, I know he was a drinker – his room always smelt like an inn – and he had his rages, but this!’