Swallow Hall Murder

by Noreen Wainwright

  The day was cold, and the air cut through her, in contrast to the heat of the building she’d just left.

  A jingle of a bell as she pushed open the blue and white door sounded at the same moment as she was hit by the combined smells of frying bacon and cigarette smoke. More of a café than a tea-shop then. It was half-full, mainly with a gang of workmen. Then, she saw Serena Grant.

  She sat, on her own at the right-hand, far end of the café. Her stillness and utter misery compelled, even though Edith only knew her by sight. Rarely had she seen anyone looking so lost.

  It wasn’t her place to intrude, but she couldn’t shift her attention from the woman and the questions her presence conjured up. Serena worked at the hospital, and this place was next door, but there was a staff refectory in the hospital. Though determined not to draw Serena’s attention, Edith’s quick glance took in the cup of tea and the ashtray from which a trail of smoke rose and dissipated into the general fug.

  Edith sat at a table three away from Serena’s and waited for the busy waitress to approach. She wished she’d brought a book, but hadn’t expected any delays. There was a newspaper, which looked like the Daily Mirror, on the table across the aisle from her own. It had been left by the elderly man who now moved towards the door.

  Edith went and picked it up. It would be something to look at and a distraction from Serena. Not that she would be aware of anything going on around her. She read the headlines, and the waitress came to the table with a tiny notebook and pencil in her hand.

  She ordered tea and toast. Stupid, the trivial things that could bother you, but it seemed a waste of the waitress’s hard-pressed time to just ask for tea.

  “Excuse me,” Serena stood by Edith’s table, with tears pouring down her face. Her voice was small, her demeanour shrunken.

  This was awful. People must be staring at her, and she needed protecting. Obviously, the woman had broken down completely under whatever strain she was under. Her presence here in the café made sense. She had probably been sent home from work and had needed a few moments before facing the journey.

  “Sit down, a minute…Mrs. Grant. Serena, isn’t it?”

  She seemed reluctant to do so, and she clearly was battling for control. Edith gave a quick glance around the café. None of the men showed the slightest interest in the scene; probably hadn’t even noticed. Thank goodness it wasn’t one of the more genteel tea-shops. A roomful of women would have been a different proposition.

  She half got to her feet and put a hand on Serena’s arm.

  “Sit down a minute, please. Look, I’ll call the waitress and get you a cup of tea.

  Serena sat down. “I’m sorry, and I don’t know what possessed me. I don’t suppose you’re going back to Ellbeck?”

  “I’m fetching my brother back from the hospital. I’ve come in here because he isn’t quite ready. He will be shortly, though. You’re welcome to have a lift with us.”

  “No, I can’t get in the way like that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You seem very upset.”

  It was as if the words released something in her, and the tears came again. She searched in her handbag for a handkerchief.

  “Look, can I help? We need to get you out of here. I’ll cancel the order.”

  Serena shook her head, agitated now as well as upset.

  “No, please. Don’t. I need to find the ladies. Wash my face. I’m so sorry. It’s like I can’t stop crying. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Her tone was frightened.

  The waitress came at that moment and put a pot of tea and a plate of toast down in front of Edith.

  “Could you bring another cup and saucer, please? My friend would like some tea too. Thank you very much.”

  “I’ll find the ladies. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Edith spread butter on the toast. Seeing someone else in a state made you calmer. Just as well. It had been a difficult forty-eight hours. What would Archie say about another passenger on their journey home? It wasn’t ideal, but what could she do? She couldn’t just abandon the young woman and let her wait for one of the infrequent buses.

  Serena must have come into work and become upset and been sent away.

  She came back and sat down. “I’m so sorry about this and so embarrassed. I thought coming in here would just give me a little bit of time to compose myself. It doesn’t seem to have worked, though.”

  She did look a bit calmer, and she’d combed her hair and probably splashed some cold water on her face.

  “In fact, I will be all right now. I’ll go for a walk, maybe in one of the parks. I’ll get a bus back home. The last thing you need is another passenger. Did you say your brother has been discharged? He’s my grandmother’s doctor, isn’t he? Doctor Horton? I hope he’s all right?” She sounded calmer, but also as though she was making a huge effort.

  “Yes. He was taken suddenly ill on Tuesday. We had a bit of a fright, but they’re sending him home, so hopefully it was a false alarm.”

  Was it, though? This whole conversation, this scene was so strange. She didn’t know the woman across the table, and here she was telling her something she had barely discussed with anyone else apart from Henry. She was talking mainly to take the focus away from Serena’s own troubles and to allow her time to compose herself.

  “I’m glad. My grandmother likes him, and that’s saying a lot. She doesn’t warm to many people. It’ll probably be because he stands up to her.” She smiled; a fleeting, transformative smile that tugged at Edith’s heartstrings.

  “I don’t know what came over me…not really.”

  Edith’s spirits drooped. She was always interested in the dilemma of others. What else was life about apart from stories and humanity and the tangles it got tied in? But, just at the moment…She didn’t have very long, for one thing. She didn’t want to keep Archie waiting. He’d be desperate to get home. But, this wasn’t something she could put off until it was a more convenient time.

  “The man who was killed, Sean Bracken…” She swallowed, and the tendons in her neck stuck out, blue against the pale skin. “I loved him, really loved him. And he’s dead.” She swallowed again, and tears filled her eyes. It was just as she said, she had no control of her emotions, her tears.

  Edith remembered a dark time when she would walk down the street back in Ellbeck, and unbidden tears would pour down her cheeks, and she’d have a fleeting thought that if anyone she knew were to pass her—and that covered almost everyone in the village -they would think she’d gone mad. Then, she had. Gone mad, for a while.

  “I told Inspector Greene that he was just a friend. I was frightened. I couldn’t, just couldn’t tell him anymore. He would have delved into things, made me talk. I couldn’t talk about it—any of it. He knows I wasn’t telling him the truth, though. He’ll be back, he’s bound to come back, yet again.”

  “Isn’t there anyone else you could have spoken to? I mean in the house, at home. I gather from Hester that you live with several of your relatives.”

  “You must be joking.” There was anger in her voice. “I might live with three aunts and a grandmother but when it comes to having someone to talk to—well, I may as well be living on my own.”

  Edith almost asked about Hester, but it didn’t need saying. If she’d been able to talk to her cousin, she would have done.

  “Hester is going back to London. But, well…her life is there. I suppose she came up here because I asked her to do so. But when it comes down to it, I don’t suppose I really want her coming up, laying the law down and then sodding off back to London, and forgetting about the lot of us.”

  There was a whining tone in Serena’s voice, and Edith didn’t envy Hester. What a thankless position. Being asked to come and sort them all out and being resented probably by all of them for doing so.

  “I came into work and thought it would be all right, you know what I mean… that it would make me feel normal again. As soon as I went into the pharmacy, I kne
w it was a mistake, and there was a barrage of questions too. My colleagues had read about what had happened. I’m not blaming them…but, it was all too much.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Serena’s face was white, and the muscles in her neck, taut. She clasped the teacup so hard, Edith feared she would break it.

  What timing though. Today, Archie had to be her priority. However, it was impossible to leave someone who was in extreme distress. It would seem that having plucked up all her courage or plumbed the depths of despair, she’d be left high and dry. Maybe Edith should have stopped the other woman in her tracks before she started. Don’t be stupid. She was capable of tact. There was a clock on the wall behind the counter. It was almost twenty minutes since she’d left Archie and she’d have to allow herself a few minutes to get back to the ward.

  “Would you like to meet me back in Ellbeck, say this afternoon? About two. I’ll have my brother back home and settled by then. But, the offer of a lift still stands, by the way.”

  Thankfully, this had the effect of switching Serena away from her own despair to concentrate on somebody else. “I’m so sorry. I’m rambling on about my own problems. You need to collect your brother… Are you sure? You have enough on your plate by the sounds of it.”

  “No, it’s fine, Serena. I’ll settle my brother by the fire with the newspaper and meet you. Do you know the Old Schoolhouse?”

  She nodded and as Edith stood up to go she was heartened to see the hint of colour back in Serena’s cheeks.

  * * *

  Last night had been beyond strange. When Greene arrived back, all had seemed normal. Actually, that was a frightening thought. There was nothing normal about this situation, and he was doomed if he began to see this as his life now. How amazingly quickly humans could adapt to changed circumstances.

  “I’ve made some supper—a shepherd’s pie.”

  “Thank you.” He took a breath and weighed up the wisdom of starting again. He was compelled to talk to her about their situation as though by sheer willpower and persistence, he could make her see their situation as he did. But, had last night changed everything? Or could he somehow reverse it? Maybe. He’d come through the door tonight, his stomach leaden with dread. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting; that she’d try to resume last night’s intimacy? Not that it was intimacy. It was sex and had been a massive mistake.

  One thing you had to hand Bet. She rarely failed to surprise. She made no overtures and no reference to the previous night. In a way, that was more disconcerting. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.

  She put the food in front of him.

  “Aren’t you eating or have you had yours?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Are you not feeling well?” Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? Be glad that she wasn’t chattering pointlessly or playing happy couples like she had been doing. Because the way she was being was really throwing him, that was why.

  An idea came to him, and it was like it had been sent by an angel. March was moving on, the daylight stretching out just a little bit. He had a garden shed and a glasshouse, and it would help give him an excuse to escape. He could have driven out to one of the local pubs but without understanding why, he was reluctant to start doing that. It would be some sort of acceptance of the situation—the comedian’s routine on a bad marriage. Man escapes to the pub and to do that would be as though he was accepting that their marriage existed again and make it almost normal. No, he wouldn’t do that.

  “I’m going outside for a while, potter in the garden while there’s a bit of daylight.”

  She said nothing

  “Bet?”

  “Yes, I heard you.”

  * * *

  “Are you all right?”

  “How many times, Edie? I’m all right; no chest pain. I’m a bit tired that’s all. I might have been in a private room, but you can’t get any rest in a hospital.”

  She took the hint and went into the surgery to check that all was tidy and ready for the locum who had agreed to come and cover the week Archie had eventually agreed that he needed. She needn’t have worried. Young Phoebe Arkwright was efficient and a conscientious worker.

  She sat there unable to go back in the main house and take up her knitting, or settle to listen to the wireless. Her mind was racing not only with worry about her brother. but with the conversation she’d had in the tea-room with Serena Grant.

  “Thank you for coming, and I’m sorry for making a complete fool of myself earlier today. You were very kind.”

  “Not at all. I felt bad at having to rush off, but my brother…”

  “How is Doctor Horton?”

  “I’ve left him by the fire in his armchair tutting over the newspaper. To be honest, it’s what he needed; a bit of peace and time to himself without me and Hannah, the housekeeper, clucking over him—as he refers to it.”

  Serena smiled. She had calmed down, and Edith wondered if she regretted her earlier confidences.

  It seemed not.

  “When it comes down to it, I’m shocked to find how few friends I’ve made in the time I’ve been back in Yorkshire. So, when I’m desperate to speak to someone, I have to burden someone I barely know. It’s a sobering thought.”

  It was difficult to know how to respond to that. It was clearly true.

  “No one in the house? Your cousin Hester?” Edith realised she was now repeating what they’d said in the café this morning.

  “Tch…” She shook her head, a glance of irritation passing over her face. “I thought maybe. But, I was wrong. I know you and Hester go back a long time, Edith. But, my cousin has her own ways, and one of the things she believes is that no woman should waste her time on romance. She might not come out and say that, but it is what she believes, so she’s the wrong person to speak to about erm…matters of the heart. Well, that’s what she claims anyway—to despise the male sex, more or less.” A wintry smile turned up the corners of her mouth but only for a second, and it had looked like sarcasm rather than humour.

  “Maybe just as well she didn’t come wedding clothes shopping with me, after all, then.”

  “Are you getting married?” The smile looked genuine this time.

  “Yes, in September to Henry Wilkes, you will probably know him. He’s the vicar at St. Ethelbert’s.”

  She nodded. “Yes, he actually comes out to see my grandmother. Brave man.”

  A pause fell. A glance at Serena and Edith could see her lick her lips, and almost hear the questions going on in her mind about what, if anything to say to this virtual stranger. That was one of the problems with confidences. It was easy to blurt out your secrets when you were in the grip of strong emotion. But, second thoughts were common when you had time to compose yourself. Well, it was up to Serena.

  “This is a stupid question, but have you ever really, really loved someone? I’m sorry. That’s an intrusive question, especially to someone who has just mentioned her wedding.”

  “Don’t worry. Yes, I have.”

  Why had Alistair been the first face to flash in front of her mind’s eye at Serena’s question? She wasn’t going to waste a lot of time wondering about that. Because he was her first serious love, that was why. That and the poignancy of his death in the war.

  “I have. I loved my husband, and before him, there were girlish crushes, I suppose. But, from the moment I met Sean…I knew I couldn’t live without him.”

  But, she was going to have to.

  “I was married then. But we got married too young. It was before the war. Just before the war. Sean was living in London.”

  That was odd. For some reason, Edith thought he had lived at home in Ireland until he joined up.

  “He was writing then too, for newspapers, magazines. Not poetry—that came later. My husband brought him back to our flat for drinks. That was it…”

  She took a handkerchief from a small silver-grey clutch bag. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I’m crying again…”


  It wasn’t uncontrollable this time, though. She wiped at her eyes and swallowed a couple of times.

  “I’m sorry. You must be absolutely tired of the sight of me blubbing.”

  Edith poured some tea. “You’re upset, grieving. Tears are natural.”

  “We didn’t do anything about our feelings for a long time. He had had a religious, Irish upbringing. Adultery was unthinkable. Then, it was the war, and they both joined up - different regiments. And my husband did officer training of course.”

  Edith fidgeted slightly. This was beginning to get uncomfortable. Talk about affairs, especially when a person’s husband was away fighting. Mm, it didn’t sit easy, no matter how she tried to live and let live. People say that normal standards don’t apply so much at wartime. A “grab at happiness” attitude takes over.

  “I met Sean when he came on leave, and that was it. We spent every moment together. He’d changed. All the Catholic guilt and morality had gone. I think what he’d seen made all of that seem…erm…irrelevant, I suppose.”

  It would. In the midst of such horrors, that sort of consideration would seem petty. Grab at happiness, indeed.

  “Then Stevie was killed. The telegram came. I was at work at the time. You’ll think me the most awful hypocrite, Edith. But, I was very cut up when I got it.”

  She bent her head, and her right hand was clenched tight on the teacup handle.

  “Sean came back,” she prompted.

  “Sean came back. Angry. Bitter. It was a horrible time actually, and I thought he’d, well, leave me. He did for a while. Then, he came back, saying he needed me.”

  Edith heard the words, but there was something off-centre about Serena’s attitude. Difficult to put your finger on it. In a flash, Edith wondered what Sean’s version of events would be.

  “He didn’t want to work in journalism anymore. A few of his articles had been turned down. I’m not, or I wasn’t surprised. Inflammatory, you might say.”

  How frustrating that would have been. Wanting to get his words out.