This time, Sylvia’s hand on her arm was firmer. “Now, stop this, Ivy. I never had you down for self-pity.”
Ivy inhaled sharply.
“I’m sorry, I know it was a mean thing to say, but you’re taking it much too hard. For one thing, nobody with any sense will take a blind bit of notice of anything that woman says. Everyone knows what she’s like.”
That calmed Ivy, just a bit.
“The housekeeper asked Vera. Vera said she explained to her that Miss Elizabeth was angry that I’d decided to leave. Not only that, how she’d been accusing me of stealing things from her room, and about young Beryl leaving because of her…that woman.”
“See, what did I say? Your job will still be there for you, you’ll see. Her wickedness has done her no good, and she who laughs last laughs longest.”
Ivy’s breathing returned to normal, and her heart rate slowed a bit.
“I hope you’re right. Vera did me a good turn, and I hope she convinced the housekeeper. All the same, though, Sylvia, my new start—it’s been sort of spoilt. No matter what Vera said, that housekeeper is going to look at me differently, watch me.”
* * *
Albert Greene walked all the way from his cottage to the station, leaving his Anglia at home. He didn’t know why - just that he felt like the walk, and he wanted the security of leaving a marker behind, something to show that someone lived there. That was completely ridiculous. He wasn’t a man for fancies and notions, but after the night he’d had his mind wasn’t working right, it was like a misfiring engine.
What the hell was he doing anyway, going into work as though everything was normal? Apart from Margaret, no-one even knew his wife had returned. He didn’t have scores of friends. As he’d tried to explain to young Brown, friends and police work didn’t mix well.
Neither was he given to talking about what was going on in his private life. Where would you even begin? Guilt and irritation fought within him whenever he thought about his wife. He should never have married her. But, he had married her.
It hadn’t been too bad until he’d come back after the war. The damn war, it had changed everything. For him, it had changed what he found tolerable and not. But, that was not fair on Bet. She wasn’t stupid, and she saw what was happening. It brought out the worst in her.
The fault lines grew into fissures. Then her head had been turned by some primped up manager in that department store, and he felt the same sense of relief as he had when he had first set foot back on English soil, in 1918.
It had all been left too loose, though, no divorce, no line drawn under it. The peace and freedom of her absence had been enough, and he hadn’t wanted to know about contacting her, or whatever he needed to do to tie up loose ends. Solicitors, all that malarkey, he hadn’t wanted to be bothered with any of it.
It wasn’t as if he was ever going to get married again. With his record of poor judgement of character and marital misery, he’d have needed to have his head examined if he’d ever even been tempted.
He’d reached the station, and if anybody had asked him to describe one element of his walk, he would have been hard pushed to do so. It was cold, that was about it, and the keen wind had made his eyes water. He was no nearer a solution. It was crazy to carry on as normal. His wife was not a stable woman. Absolutely anything might have happened to her. He should do something. Telephone Margaret. That was something. He’d do that much. She’d probably be back there. It was the logical thing for her to do. Logic wasn’t Bet’s middle name, but she always turned to her big sister when things fell apart.
* * *
“I called out to Swallow Hall, today,” Archie had put his head around the tiny office door, where Edith was searching for invoices.
Archie was careless about money, and about whether he was paid. It was endearing, but exasperating. There were large holes in the books too. Money was taken out for personal expense. She didn’t like to ask because that would be crossing that line again. The whole thought of dissolving this practice caused a swishing in her stomach a bit like when you drove through that unseen hollow on the Ripon road.
“Seeing old Mrs. Turner?”
“Yes, she called for me. I’d seen her not too long ago, but I suppose with all the carry on, she was looking for something. I’m not sure what. I wouldn’t think it was reassurance because she has more ego than anyone else I know, man or woman.”
Edith raised her eyebrows. “From what I’ve heard about her, she’d be enjoying all the drama.”
Archie laughed. “She is. But, it’s all getting her down too, because she doesn’t know what happened. I’m pretty sure of that. The thought that there are goings-on, as she puts it, that she’s unaware of, well, she’s as angry as a bag of cats. I feel sorry for the lot of them.”
“Hester went back to London and her job, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so glad to shake the dust of Ellbeck from her shoes—even you. Sorry, Archie, that’s my attempt at a joke.”
“Well, ha, ha, then.” Archie grinned, and for a second Edith caught a glimpse of how he’d been when they’d all been young, and the world had been full of possibilities. This was the right decision for Archie. Going to Canada was his true chance to do what he wanted, and maybe he’d never had that before. Edith knew she’d doubt it all again, in the coming months, and she’d be sad when he went, but she’d try to hold on to this moment of certainty.”
“I didn’t know her in London, not really. She wasn’t one of your crowd, was she?”
Edith frowned. “No, I wouldn’t say that. She was a good nurse, and she was fun. Nice really, though that’s a feeble word. But she was different.”
It was difficult to explain and only in the context of what had happened at Swallow Hall had she ever given it any thought.
“I think Hester would have been a suffragette, given half a chance. She’s never shown the least bit of interest in getting married, or as far as I know, in any man. She’s interested in politics, not only in this country, but she’s travelled with one of the Parliamentarians too, to the League of Nations’ meetings. Big, high-powered events.”
“I think you’re saying that she thinks like a man?”
This was meant as a compliment. It wasn’t the first time Edith had heard the expression, but it was the first time it had grated on her nerves so much. Would they ever see the day when no man would dream of uttering such a patronising comment? Maybe.
“Mmm. Anyway, can you imagine someone like that putting up with the shenanigans at Swallow Hall? One not talking to another. Elizabeth throwing things at the maid. Serena…”
“What about Serena?” Edith made a snap decision and told him more of the conversation she’d had with Serena.
“I found her in a vulnerable state, and as soon as we met in the teashop, I think she’d pulled herself together enough to regret saying anything in the first place. She was a distraught woman, though. Not a doubt in my mind that she’d been in love with Sean Bracken and was devastated by his death.”
“He never mentioned her when he told me he was leaving. I got no impression at all that he was involved with any woman either here in Yorkshire or anywhere else.”
“That’s very odd, Archie. Sort of creepy. There’s her thinking he’s the love of her life, and he doesn’t even mention her when he’s discussing his future plans.”
“She may have wasted her life, then, is what you’re saying.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. If she lived in that place with those relatives for years and years because he was here…then, he just discards her.”
“More fool, her,” Archie said.
This wasn’t the first time he’d shown an unsentimental, pragmatic side when it came to romance.
“She had no-one to talk to. The aunts…well. Her mother… I didn’t get the impression they’re all that close. Then she summons Hester to intervene. But, Hester is the wrong person to confide in over a broken romance. She’d just wonder what the fuss was about,
and go back to reading the newspaper.”
“Sensible woman.”
“Oh, Archie. So, what’s your impression then of all of them? You’ve been going into that house more often than anybody else over the years.
“Old Muriel Turner is at the root of it all, of course. If she’d been born a man, she’d have been a captain of industry. As it is, she took her fun where she could. Principally in meddling in her children’s lives, and exerting control over them. Then she despised them for their weakness. It’s often the way, people destroy what they have created.”
“That’s awfully cynical, Archie.”
“It may be, but it’s also often true. Two people interest me in that house. Hubert and Kate. Probably because neither of them is quite as much under Muriel Turner’s thumb as the others.”
“Yes, what’s he doing there? Surely he isn’t hanging on for his inheritance as well?”
Archie stretched his legs out in front of him, and she thought again how much better he looked. A medical fright, a big decision and patently a big sense of relief.
“He’s an enigmatic character. Drinks a bit, I think. Also, has his eye on Serena, I think. Again, I’m not sure. Rolled up here after the war. Probably had nothing better on offer at the time. When Mrs. Turner offered him a job, he may never have intended staying as long as this. Then, I suppose you stay so long, and it gets difficult to get up off your backside and move. Also, I have no idea whether the man is motivated by greed, but he’s a great favourite of Mrs. Turner’s. We are talking about a woman of ninety. Plenty would think he’d be mad to walk away at this point.”
“Yes,” Edith said.
“Actually, maybe Hubert, out of all of them had least reason to move. He has his own accommodation. The work obviously suits him. I don’t know where he was in the war?”
“He was one of the tunnellers. Horrible job.”
“There you are. Now, he’s in the outdoors, probably largely left to his own devices. Presumably, he gets a wage.”
“And one of the few people Mrs. T treats well,” Archie said.
Chapter Twenty
“Tell us everything you knew about the dead man.” Greene’s voice was flat.
“Inspector,” Hubert held his hands up in a mocking gesture.”
“I keep telling you, I had one run-in with him. That’s it. I didn’t like him He didn’t like me. He was Serena’s friend. I nodded to him and was civil if I saw him around the place. I didn’t kill him. I had no reason to kill him. He mattered not one jot in my life.”
“It would have mattered though if he’d been involved with a woman you were fond of.” Greene was dogged today. Grumpy, morose and dogged. The three of them were seated on upturned wooden crates in a large glasshouse.
To Brown, it seemed an odd place to be having a conversation. But, Greene had bearded his man, enquired where he was and when Kate said he was potting up, they’d trooped down the sodden garden path, trouser legs getting wet, rain dripping from hats onto shoulders.
I should have been a carpenter, thought Brown, as he occasionally did. He’d been good at woodwork at school. Imagine it. In out of the weather in a nice cosy workshop.
Hubert only glanced at them when they came in, showing no consternation and little interest.
Actually, it wasn’t bad in here in the glasshouse, in a sea of green; away from that claustrophobic house. The smell was almost heady; earth and tiny plants. Hubert had it cosy in here, away from everyone, working away at his own pace. Not a bad billet.
Now, he started filling a pipe he’d taken out of his top pocket and made a performance out of tamping down the tobacco and lighting it and drawing the smoke in. Playing for time if Brown wasn’t a Dutchman.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not involved, as you put it, with any woman. If you’re looking at that as a solution for a case you can’t solve, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
He was unperturbed, either completely innocent or a cool customer. Then, when you thought about the type of work he did during the war, he’d have to be cool. Brown’s knowledge of the work the men did in the tunnels was hazy, but you didn’t need to know much about it to realise that it would be dangerous and claustrophobic.
“So, you stayed on here. Why exactly?”
The man drew on his pipe deeply, and in the tendons in his neck you could maybe see anger. “I needed a job, Mrs. Turner needed a man around this place. Have you seen the size of it here? There’s enough work here for two men.”
“Why stay? What is there here for you in a place like this? It seems you work hard, and I can’t imagine the household is the most congenial. The latest housemaid is off, I hear?”
He was overstepping the mark. Brown glanced at the inspector and at Hubert, who was looking out through the glass at the rain.
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this conversation, Inspector Greene. I have to work and earn a living. I’m not interested in living in a city. Above all, I’m not a housemaid. So, whether the woman in the house are uncongenial or not, isn’t of concern to me.”
“I’m told that Mrs. Turner sees you as a bit of favourite.”
His laugh was more like a bark.
“Aw, the penny drops. What you’re getting at is whether I have expectations of benefiting when old Mrs. Turner finally dies. If you think the prospects of maybe coming into something has made me hang on here, putting my life on hold, like the rest of them, you’re wrong. Difficult as it may be for you to understand, I’m not all that bothered about legacies. On the other hand, if you mean, did she ever say she would leave me something in her will, then, yes, she has.”
The way he spoke gave the impression of honesty. But, then, if anyone else, or Mrs. Turner herself was to tell them the same thing, well, wasn’t he maybe just getting in first?
* * *
On the way back to the station, Brown’s thoughts went from one or other of the people living - or in the case of Hubert—working at Swallow Hall. Mary was the only one they’d overlooked. Maybe not overlooked, but they hadn’t spent time with her. He cast his mind back to someone he’d encountered in a previous case. There was a lesson there, perhaps. She’d been a nervous wreck. A woman you wouldn’t think capable of making a decision, let alone carrying out an act. The lesson he learned was not to overlook the nervous people, the ones who tended to be passed over.
They’d been told that Mary was lying down with a headache and could not be disturbed.
“It’s a shame we couldn’t speak to Mary,” he risked saying, now.
“Yes, she’s elusive. We’ll come back and hopefully, she’ll have recovered from her headache or whatever it is actually keeping her from speaking to us. She does seem the type to be lying down with a headache. In the meantime, after you’ve dropped me back, I need you to go out again to The Drovers’ Arms and talk to the landlord. We need to get to the bottom of this woman visitor of Bracken’s. Someone must know who she was.”
Brown’s mood plunged down like a lift down a shaft. This was the sort of thankless, drudgery that Robinson should be engaged upon. It would involve pinning down a timescale with a landlord who would have better things to do, and trawling through possible dates that the woman had been in the pub and no doubt, visiting the train station and even Denis Harvey’s taxi firm.
“Take young Robinson with you. Let him do some of the donkey work. The lift had stopped plummeting down the shaft. All it took was a few words, sometimes. He glanced sideways at his boss. Craggy, frowning and miles away.
“All right, sir,” he said.
* * *
“I don’t understand, Archie,” Edith’s heart beat fast, and a pulse low in her stomach made her wrap her arms protectively around her middle.
“Can’t you just leave it, Edith? I’ll sort it out. Why did you need to go poking about in this, anyway?”
A surge of indignation threatened tears, and she blinked. That certainly wasn’t the way to go.
“I was not poking or prying or anything else. You spring something huge on me…that you are thinking of going to Canada to live and work. I was anticipating that there would be a lot of sorting out to do, tying of loose ends. That’s all.”
Had it been all, though? Had there been another motive behind her scrutiny of cheque books and bank statements? If so, it had been well hidden, even from herself. It had been a shock. The hole in the middle of the surgery’s practice accounts had been a shock as had the personal drawings. There was no obvious explanation.
Her small amount of wages were accounted for as were Hannah’s and Phoebe’s. She knew about the drawings for household expenses, petty cash, bills…But there had been regular private drawings of amounts up to hundred pounds at a time. Why? What on earth had Archie been spending this money on? He didn’t have a lavish lifestyle or an expensive hobby such as golf or motor sport. Crazy thoughts and impressions chased each other across her mind. His unexplained chest pain and collapse. Most of all, his decision to go to Canada. He claimed it hadn’t been a sudden decision but…had it? Had it been precipitated by something?
“I don’t want to pry, but I work for you, Archie. I should have noticed this before. If I’d been prying, I definitely would have done. Look, don’t tell me then.”
She sat down, put her hands to her eyes. Too much, this was all too much. In the last few days, she and Henry had announced their engagement, she’d listened to Serena Grant going through some sort of crisis, and she’d had the fright of her life when she thought her brother was dying. Not to mention, his decision to up sticks and go and live thousands of miles away—her closest living relative.
“Actually, Archie, whatever it is that’s been going on about money, I don’t want to know.”
She got up and got Max’s lead. She needed to walk and feel the rain on her face and get the blood pumping through her body. She needed the release that only came through fresh air and exercise and getting away from people.
Swallow Hall Murder Page 17
