Death at Dawn

by Noreen Wainwright

  Edith had felt a prickle of sweat on her top lip and glanced at Julia. She was staring ahead and Edith had an odd feeling as though they were poised on the edge of something.

  “Things aren’t great, you know, Edith.”

  Edith nodded.

  “I mean between Giles and me–obviously,”

  Edith felt the clichés push their way into her mind…it’ll take time…it’ll get better…it was bound to be hard for a while. But, she managed to bite them back. “What’s the most difficult bit?” she asked. Maybe it was a stupid question, but it was her best effort.

  “The most difficult thing is that he’s become restless again. It frightens me, Edith, because when I look back now at last year, there were so many signs that things weren’t right. When I look back, actually, I’m so angry with myself for being so…so stupid. He was always irritable with me at that time. Nothing I did was right. When I found out about his affair, that was what made me screaming mad, that he’d turned me into the villain.

  “But, I suppose that’s the perfect smokescreen in a way. He had me looking at myself all the time, you see, so I couldn’t see he was the one who had really changed. He isn’t like that now, not irritable with me, I mean.”

  Her words, though almost whispered, still resonated in the somnolent atmosphere of the place. The waitress was aged and worn and Edith had almost expected the lemon cake to taste of dust, but it didn’t, it was delicious.

  Edith wasn’t sure what to say. She thought she understood a reasonable amount about human relationships, but the thing was, she’d never been married, never lived with a man, so there would be huge gaps in her experience, there must be.

  “Maybe now you are reading more into his moods though, you know, as a way of making sure you don’t miss the signs again or something.”

  Julia smiled. “Yes, how to go from heedless to paranoid in three easy steps. You might be right. I am probably gauging his mood all the time, looking for tell-tale signs.”

  “Don’t do that,” Edith heard herself blurt it out and bit her lip. “It was like that when I was in St. Bride’s. I always felt like my every mood was being judged. And I don’t think that was just my own mental condition. It’s what the nurses and the warders did, it is their job to see whether the patients were up or down, manic, talking too much or too wildly or too silent, morose…depressed.

  “It’s terrible, you get so self-conscious, you almost forget what it’s like to feel like yourself. It puts an awful strain on you–the inability to just be–you know, quiet sometimes, irritable, bored. They’re all normal things, but not if you’re under scrutiny.

  “I know this isn’t about me, but there were times when I went into that dayroom in St. Bride’s though I would have given anything for just a bit of peace and quiet on my own. I was frightened that they would think she’s depressed, withdrawn, write it down in their report book…”

  “I try to keep it to myself. You’d be proud of me, Edith. I’ve become a great actress. But, Giles is restless whether I’m paranoid or not, and I dread to think of the reason behind that restlessness.

  “I don’t know whether he is seeing that woman again or he is thinking about seeing her again, either would be a disaster. Then, he gets so angry, so worked up about the state of the country; what needs doing. He seems to have all the answers or knows people who have all the answers. These political friends are shadowy, back-door men, too, not your ordinary MP.”

  “You obviously don’t feel as though you can ask him about any of this?”

  Julia shook her head. “Come on, let’s talk about something else. I’m being a complete wet blanket. Tell me to shut up.”

  “Shut up,” Edith said and it had been the right response. They could have talked about Julia’s nebulous feelings of unease all morning and it wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference. But, it had crept under her eiderdown of sleepiness tonight.

  After the cocoa, Edith had settled; somehow the racing thoughts of earlier had been banished. As always, when this happened these days, it seemed like a triumph.

  Chapter 8

  “Inspector Greene.” Archie led the other man into the sitting room.

  There was no mistaking the tension in her brother’s face, the tightening of his features, and the fixed look in his eyes.

  Echoes of the past. Not too long ago, the man haunted this house, determined or so it seemed to Archie, to pin Mrs. Butler’s death on him.

  Edith and Archie hadn’t really talked about it much after the case had been solved, but that the anger still burned deep in her brother. You could say what you liked about the police just doing their job, but Archie had taken it personally. He’d been a suspect, and in his view, he’d been hounded. Greene had, as far as he was ever going to be capable of it, tried to build bridges when the real murderer had been found, but with, Edith was sure, limited success.

  For a minute, the three of them stood. Edith had quickly risen from the armchair, resting her book on the arm. The inspector stood on the hearthrug and her brother near the door. Archie seemed to come to himself and looking at Edith, said, “I’ll be across in the surgery, should you need me.”

  It was a bit pointed, and Edith cursed the heat that flushed her face. Yes, well, no point in all that. She had her own reasons for feeling uneasy around this man. But he was here to speak to her. They’d better get on with it.

  “Did you know your friend’s husband had been having an affair?”

  Anger clenched her stomach and made heat rise again in her face. What could she say here? It was one of those questions designed to trick you. “I’d have thought it would be far better to ask Julia about something like that.”

  “Yes, don’t worry, Miss Horton. We will have that conversation with your friend. But, I’m asking you, just now.”

  “Well, I don’t want to discuss the matter with you at all. I can see no possible reason why I should. Surely, what I know or knew or didn’t know is irrelevant?” She felt the world’s biggest prig, hated the words coming out of her mouth, but she wasn’t going to be bullied or trapped into talking to this bombastic man.

  “All right, Miss Horton. Take that stance if you must. But, I think you’re misguided, and what’s more, I think you’ve answered my question anyway.” He took his hat from the small table and made for the door.

  Edith went out of the house, taking a coat from the hall stand. She didn’t say a word to Archie or to Hannah who was in the kitchen. It was drizzling and the cool, wet air was wonderful. She turned left out of the gate and passed the Dalesman, not really seeing the splashes of colour from the baskets and tubs, just barely acknowledging and nodding to the two old boys who sat on the low wall outside, in their usual position, chatting, taking in all that went on, which in Ellbeck was generally not a lot. She was a mile outside the village before she calmed down. The smell of the countryside, manure and new-mown hay competing, slowed her pace and eventually she leaned on a stone wall.

  “Just be,” she told herself. The drizzle had stopped and a peach-yellow and pink sunshine made the countryside softer, the hues more subdued.

  He had got to her. But, she couldn’t make it personal like this. It was his job to wrong-foot people, to catch them unawares and get in there. He’d found out that Giles had been having an affair, not that unusual, unfortunately, but now the man had been shot.

  She searched in her mind. What, if anything much, had Julia said about the woman, this Daphne? Because surely there was a strong chance she featured, somewhere in this and as she was married, also that her husband might feature.

  Chapter 9

  It was the next day and she was walking again, but this time with Henry.

  “Just look at it,” he said now.

  Edith was glad of the chance to stop for a few minutes.

  Soon they would reach the Dale-Side Tearoom and they could have a proper rest and the best cup of tea in the world; the one you had after a long uphill walk.

  Sometimes the view
from this hillside leaning over a five-barred gate was almost too much, too much vista so you felt greedy at the abundance of beauty and worried you weren’t appreciating it properly.

  She said so to Henry. “Looking down the valley from here, it’s ridiculously beautiful.”

  “Giddying,” said Henry and at his use of that word, so innocuous from his lips, she smiled.

  But, there was always the stone in the shoe, the niggle.

  Like he read her thoughts, he said, “I went to see Julia last night as I said I would. What a business, post-mortem, the children. I thought she was really suffering, you know.”

  For a moment, Edith almost felt wrong-footed and shook herself. It wasn’t a competition for the friend with whom Julia could be most honest.

  “I think she probably tries to spare me a bit, you know, Henry. That’s the most damnable thing–sorry…this feeling that people will always now treat me with kid gloves as though I might just embarrass them by losing my reason completely, or something.”

  Henry touched her arm. “Come on, let’s walk another bit.”

  They were quiet for a few moments, saving their breath for walking and, in Edith’s case, thinking hard. Well, she’d been with Julia a lot in recent days, Julia had leaned on her, but she hadn’t really let Edith see how bad things were.

  Henry was a clergyman, though. This didn’t mean anything to many people, but nevertheless, like doctors and solicitors, there was that aura of trustworthiness about the dog collar.

  She was Julia’s friend and was, maybe, too close to be always the best source of comfort.

  “I don’t think it’s that, you know,” Henry said as soon as they got into their stride. This was the steepest bit of the narrow lane and Edith welcomed the slight increase in her heartbeat, feeling that the exercise must be doing her good. She seemed to have spent a lot of time indoors in the past few days. Since her breakdown, exercise had become more than something that was good for her. It had become essential to her well-being.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t think it was anything at all about sparing your feelings. I caught Julia at a bad moment. Inspector Greene had left minutes before, and I think he had been giving Julia a very hard time.”

  Instantly, Edith was indignant. “Can he do that…I’m sorry, Henry. I know the man has a job to do. But surely he can’t just drop out there and hound her like that, whenever he feels like it. That’s a strong word, but I may as well say it, as that’s what it looks like to me.”

  Henry took a deep breath, and she stopped in her tracks and looked at him.

  “Something is bothering him, Edith. I don’t think he’s hounding her for no reason. I don’t know what it is, but he’s convinced she is lying to him. He’s suspicious of her.”

  Edith’s temper threatened. But she fought it. What was the point in shooting the messenger? What he was saying was unpalatable, to say the least. But, he was not the man to be swayed by gossip. He wouldn’t be saying this unless he was really troubled.”

  They walked for a few minutes without speaking.

  “You’re not saying anything, Edith.”

  “I’m not sure what to say. Julia is my closest friend. I feel disloyal to be talking behind her back, speculating about whether or not she’s telling Greene the complete truth. But, I know you’re not just indulging in idle gossip here. You see, I don’t suppose she is going to be too keen to let Inspector Greene in on every up and down in her marriage.”

  “I think it’s more than that, Edith. He knows about the affair. Well, you know that. He also seems to be implying Giles had taken up with that woman again, recently. Julia is adamant that there’s nothing in that.”

  “What do you think, Henry?”

  They had reached the tea shop and he opened the door to let her in. She glanced round and was pleased to see there was a group of ramblers in one corner and a young couple in another. It was easier to talk when you weren’t the only people in the place.

  They sat down and ordered from the chatty middle-aged waitress. “Good day for it, a nice walk, I mean.”

  Edith put her best polite head on regardless of the fact that she badly wanted to get back to the conversation with Henry. “Have you been busy?” she asked the waitress.

  “Been a bit too hot, but that will all change soon. September tends to be our busiest time. Hello, you’re local aren’t you? I was in church last week. You’re the vicar. I liked your sermon.” She nodded. “Yes, you talked a lot of sense, I thought.” She looked closely at him.

  Edith resigned herself. The woman would go eventually.

  “It’s strange to see you out here, like. Anyway, what can I get you sir, and you madam?” She produced a dishcloth and began cleaning the oilcloth on the table though, as far as Edith could see, it was spotless.

  She then removed the stub of a pencil from her pocket and a tiny notebook. She squinted as she took the order for Welsh rarebit and tea and maybe cakes later.

  “In a cupboard,” Henry said as soon as the woman had disappeared into the kitchen.

  “What cupboard?”

  “That’s what they think of vicars, Edith. You do know that, don’t you? That we’re wheeled out on Sundays, for weddings, funerals, and baptisms and then put away in a cupboard until next time…it must be most disconcerting when we are seen doing things like hill-walking or drinking tea.

  “You’re being an idiot, Henry.”

  Her eyes met his and for a moment, a connection was made. Then she went back to worrying about Julia.

  He poured the tea and Edith took off her walking jacket. Someone had lit the fire and it sent out a message of impending autumn, of cold faces and warm fires, the smell of tea and toast, and evenings by the fire.

  “Do you think the affair was over, completely over, I mean?”

  Edith frowned and looked at Henry.

  “I do. I think they were both trying to put things right, and though I had my own doubts about Julia giving it another go, she isn’t a fool, and Giles will have known that. He took a risk, he was found out, and he would have been stupid to jeopardise it again. Giles wasn’t a fool.”

  “No,” Henry shook his head.

  “But, sometimes the other person doesn’t easily get the message in situations like this. Maybe the other woman didn’t want it to be over.” Edith felt a tiny shiver of something she couldn’t, didn’t want to name.

  “How well did you know, him, really, Edith?”

  Edith began to speak and stopped. The question wasn’t as straightforward as all that. She leaned back in the wicker chair. “There was a time when I would have answered that I knew him really well, as well as any woman can know a man she is neither related to or in love with.”

  “So what changed?” Henry’s voice was interested and she could really see why people felt they could talk to him. It was simple; he was a good listener.

  “I don’t know; we got older. I knew him best when they first met, he and Julia. I was the best friend and he was the boyfriend and it was light hearted and he could make us laugh. Then I met Alistair, and it became the four of us.”

  She hesitated. “It was…a different world, you know, Henry, more innocent and maybe a bit more ignorant too. I don’t think any of us had a serious thought in our heads.”

  “And then the war came,” Henry said.

  “Then the war came and it was all frantic, but still fun when he and Alistair came on leave. The strange thing was that we didn’t know then…what they were going through…no, we did know a little because of our own experiences, but we didn’t know what it was doing to them, the fact that someone wasn’t killed, that he’d come home was everything. How it was changing them, though…that didn’t become obvious until much later, not until it was all over.”

  Henry touched her arm, and she jumped as if in the past, as she was, she had forgotten him.

  “Sorry, I suppose I was just thinking that you didn’t even see that with Alistair, didn’t see whe
ther he was affected or in what way.” Henry’s tone was gentle.

  “No, I didn’t, and I didn’t with Giles either. To be honest, I’m not sure if even Julia saw it straightaway. What I could see though, was that the light-hearted joker was gone, dead. I’m still not sure what sort of man came back.

  “When they did get back together, were reunited, I was the bridesmaid, and I was a jealous and bitter one, I may tell you. I did my best to hide it, but I was.

  “Anyway, family life and business took Giles’s attention, and life seemed very serious. I don’t think he was ever cut out for the country gentleman, landowner, for what it’s worth. That’s why he hedged his bets, hired a farm manager, let out some of the land, and got involved in the aviation business in London. I think he needed to get away from the Dales, you know, on a regular basis.”

  “Do you understand that, Edith? The need to get away from Yorkshire?”

  All her attention was on Henry now; that was perceptive of him. “Yes, I think I understand. I hated London and I loved it too. I craved the countryside, the fresh air and the green and blue colours, the streams, the undulating landscape, the stone farmhouses…little villages. My heart ached to get back here. But, there was an energy in London even as bombs fell that was intoxicating too.”

  There was a silence.

  “I can see that you’re restless, Edith, and I’m not sure what to suggest.”