Death at Dawn

by Noreen Wainwright

  “I said, lunch-time, around 12.30, a bit inconvenient, but I can get that woman from the agency…dear me, Sadie, that’s her name…I can ask Sadie to prepare a bit of something cold for me.”

  The whole unsatisfactory nature of her aunt’s domestic arrangements struck Edith again, annoyingly distracting her. She and Archie were really going to have to give this some thought never mind how happy he was to keep his head in the sand or how stubbornly independent Aunt Alicia could be.

  “Yes, that’s fine, Aunt Alicia, I will come round to you, of course I will.”

  Aunt Alicia gave a little trill of pleasure.

  “Oh, dear Edith, that would be lovely.

  Edith hung up the receiver and telephoned Henry to tell him about her aunt. She’d still go out to see Julia but make it on her way to Aunt Alicia’s house. Suddenly, there was a cold sensation in the pit of her stomach and–for a moment she was terrified.

  She tried to find rational reasons for this feeling. Daphne Sheridan’s death had been a shock and of course it was distressing. Seeing how upset, Julia had been by that Inspector Greene, yesterday of all days–all of that was surely enough to make anyone feel nervous. But, Edith knew that wasn’t really it. The way she was feeling was about what was going to happen rather than what had already happened. She knew, just knew that Giles’s death and that of Daphne were connected and that somehow that girl, Elsie, coming from here in North Yorkshire and working for the Sheridans down in London was involved.

  Julia’s tone was despondent, “I think they’re watching me, Edith. A constable or sergeant, not completely sure which it is, keeps dropping by to see how I am - if you can believe that reason. I can’t, I think neither he nor Inspector gives a row of beans how I am. I think if he had the slightest bit of evidence against me, Inspector Greene would take great pleasure in having me carted off to Harrogate police station cells,”

  There was a catch in her voice on the last word and Edith saw that her friend was on the edge. She had talked fast ever since Mrs. Sugden had led Edith into the sitting room.

  Now, Edith said something, just inane words trying to soothe her friend, but it was difficult because she thought that perhaps Julia was right - Inspector Greene was just waiting for his chance to arrest Julia. Arrest Julia! The very idea of it was ridiculous.

  “Anyway, apparently he and Sergeant Brown have gone to London today. I suppose I should make the best of my reprise…but, I can’t somehow,”

  Edith thought she saw Julia glance fleetingly up at the ceiling and asked. “Did you talk to the boys?”

  Julia nodded and bent her head.

  Again, Edith noticed her neck and the shape of her face, the hollowness of the cheeks. She would have bet that Julia had lost weight.

  After a pause, she spoke.

  “I think it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and considering some of the things you and I had to do…that’s saying something.”

  “Oh, Julia,” Edith hesitated and then went across and stooping down, put an arm around her friend. Julia leaned against her for a few seconds and Edith heard her sigh. Then she stiffened and pulled away and Edith turned away, standing up again and going across to the French windows. She wanted to give Julia a minute to compose herself.

  “It’s done now. I had no choice but to tell them before someone else did. We all learn, eventually that the adults we look up to have feet of clay. But, not usually in such a brutal fashion. Edward was angry and didn’t want to talk about it which is absolutely fine, how they are taught to behave at school. On the other hand, Charles…”

  Edith saw her put a hand up to her face and she felt a leaden weight of sympathy in her chest.

  “For, some reason, Charles seemed angry with me; whether because he blames me for his father straying or just for telling him. Edward just told him to shut up. That was enough for me; cowardly no doubt, but I had to leave them to it at that point.”

  There was no more to be said about the miserable business of telling the boys and their reaction.

  Edith thought about mentioning the connection she and Henry had discovered between the Bishop family and Daphne Sheridan but she stopped herself. It wasn’t the time; Julia had more than enough to contend with.

  Chapter 33

  They’d walked in silence along the Mall and Horse Guards’ Parade at a fast pace. Bill Brown tried to look around him and take in his surroundings without provoking Inspector Greene’s irritation for dawdling. The building was as grand as you’d expect from a war office of what was an empire, albeit one on its last legs. It was the kind of place, high ceilinged and wood panelled that filled Brown with a sort of joy, which was pretty ridiculous, considering…but, which also made him feel a bit like an insignificant insect. He told himself to stop being stupid and bring himself back to the matter in hand. The uniformed and very military–looking man in front of them was so exactly like the type to be working in a place like this that Brown had to make an effort not to stare.

  He was also paying attention to what his boss was saying, being far too used to Inspector Greene and far too wary of him to drift too far away. It was clear that Greene had to work hard to convince the man of the urgency and the gravity of the case. This was sensitive material and he seemed defensive but Major Stewart was such an austere man that it was easy to imagine something and attribute it to him. Maybe he wasn’t defensive at all, Brown thought. Maybe he was just irritated by Inspector Greene’s insistence on seeing Giles Etherington’s complete war record. Brown had the feeling that there were those in the higher ranks of the military who would think themselves well above the foot-plodding police, even one with the rank of inspector. Major Stewart was one such, Brown was sure. He looked at them over the top of his reading glasses. He had a fine-boned face and close-cropped hair that could have been blond or grey. His physique was spare and he was the kind of man who would pride himself on his fitness.

  He sat behind a large polished desk, which Brown recognised as rosewood with a leather inlay. He had a file in front of him and he rested a protective palm on it.

  “This is highly classified information, Inspector. I’m not happy sharing it with you and it certainly can’t leave this office. However, I do recognise where my duty lies and if you think the man’s murder is somehow connected with this unhappy incident, then I accept your need to see the details.”

  Brown felt the distancing from the events of 1916 in the way Major Stewart referred to an unfortunate incident–that was a very understated way to put it. A man had been shot, executed and people on his own side, in the war, had taken that decision. That was a lot of things, but an “unfortunate incident” wouldn’t have been how Brown would have described it.

  There was an uneasy silence punctuated by Greene’s heavy breathing and the occasional noise of paper being turned. Brown felt the urge to cough and swallowed hard to prevent it.

  He felt the strong urge to see the words written on the document and at the same time dreaded the thought of doing so.

  “This is the story, or the main points of it…” Major Stewart moved his chair back and held the file at a distance as though he was short sighted. Brown was sure that the man knew the contents without reading them, again.

  “Giles Etherington was involved in two court martials while based in France in 1916. The first was more serious. A young lad…and I mean young, just turned eighteen, clearly enlisted before he was of age…never the same after the second battle of Ypres, according to his comrades, crying, fits of shaking, the gas you know…nerves clearly shot to pieces; made a couple of attempts to be sent back home, including a botched attempt to shoot himself in the leg…”

  Bill Brown’s stomach dropped.

  Stewart continued, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Then, he went away, ran away, I should say on the eve of a battle. He was found in a barn on a nearby farm. This whole event was made infinitely worse by the fact that his battalion had suffered heavy losses and morale was poor. It was a crucial stag
e in the war, at a time when Britain was facing its toughest test–when the scale of how outnumbered we were, was becoming apparent. It was crucial that no rumblings of discontent should go unchecked. It’s a tight place to be, men; when the good of the group is at stake and everything that had been sacrificed up to now could be as for nothing.”

  Bill Brown had heard this argument before and to his mind it stank. If it were true, then it really meant that the life of the individual soldier was worthless and that was surely rubbish not to mention anything he had learned either at his mother’s knee of at Chapel on a Saturday. But, anyway, he would have to keep a tight lid on thoughts like that now.

  “Giles Etherington was a wonderful soldier and his men, on the whole liked him and definitely respected him. He couldn’t be seen as weak, so if one person could be held to have signed the death warrant, then yes, it was him,”

  There seemed no more to say; except, of course, to ask about the man, or, really, the boy, who had been executed.

  “He was a Yorkshire lad, of course. His name was Jack Peters and his family come from about four miles outside Ellbeck. They’re small farmers or smallholders.”

  Brown and Greene sat in a café and for a change, Bill Brown’s appetite had fled. However, probably thinking of the journey ahead, the inspector ordered, without consulting his sergeant, a couple of meals of meat pie and mash.

  Brown shook his head and really for once not holding his tongue and watching his step, burst out, “It must be terrible for them, the family, sir, really terrible.”

  Inspector Greene nodded. “A double loss, their son and then there’s the shame as well.”

  Brown opened his mouth.

  “Don’t bother saying it, lad. I know what you’re thinking but no point in denying it; can’t have been too good for them when it was Armistice Day and bonfires were being lit, eh?”

  He pushed his chair back from the table.

  “And it gives someone a bloody good motive for murder,” he said.

  As they sat on the train returning to Ellbeck, Brown wondered about that. It can’t have escaped the inspector that a fair bit of time had passed for anyone to be now looking for revenge. But, there must be a connection. He had thought the murder had its roots in Yorkshire; the inspector believed it had something to do with Giles Etherington’s politics. Maybe, in a strange way, they were both half right.

  Chapter 34

  “You’re looking very well, Edith, dear. Come in, come in. I thought we’d talk to the girl in here,” Aunt Alicia led the way into her sun-room. She was dressed as usual, brightly, in her mix of colours and beads and a fringed cream shawl.

  Edith’s spirits lifted at being told she looked well, though in fairness, Aunt Alicia had a tendency to the glass half-full view of life and she was one to see the best in people when at all possible. Esther Kirk had tested that but even then, she’d tried to ignore her doubts and it was only later that she’d really told Edith of her unease.

  “Tell me again how this girl came to ask about the job,” Edith asked. It was all vague, nothing new when it came to her aunt. It was amazing to think of the responsible job she’d once held down, or maybe she was just becoming more absent-minded with age. Edith definitely didn’t want this whole thing to be more about the girl’s need for employment in the dale rather than her aunt’s needs. For a start, it was someone in the house all the time, night and day that was really needed. Help in the house wasn’t all that difficult to come by, for all that Aunt Alicia’s house was rather off the beaten track. Lots of women and girls had bicycles these days. Edith sometimes wondered if the popularity of the bicycle had done more for the cause of women in a practical way than almost anything else.

  “Well, the young woman rang me up. I know the parents; good people, Chapel people. They’ve had more than their share of troubles. One of the boys hasn’t been quite right…” She lowered her voice over the last couple of words.

  “Since the war, nerves, you know. Plods along most of the time helping his father with game-keeping duties and does casual farm-work but then, well I think he becomes quite peculiar…”

  She broke off and Edith saw the expression on her face and knew what the awkwardness was about.

  She put a hand on her aunt’s arm and said.

  “Aunt Alicia, there’s no need to walk on eggshells around me you know, I can stand a mention of nervous trouble.”

  Aunt Alicia’s face still looked troubled and she also looked frail, Edith thought.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang and Edith went to answer it. The young woman who stood there was dressed in a navy blue suit that, to Edith’s eyes, had been made by herself but made with flair. There were details around the collar and cuffs which made Edith think the girl had been to one of the stylish dress shops and studied the fashion there.

  “I hope you don’t mind me coming to the front door. I wasn’t sure…”

  The girl’s tone was low and lacked the distinct dales accent and Edith felt that her time away from this place must have influenced her, both in her manner and her dress.

  Aunt Alicia was fluttery and as if she wasn’t sure of the protocol on hiring domestic help which was ridiculous as she’d always been completely confident and sure of her place in the world. Seeing her in front of someone else like this, made Edith think she’d missed the signs that not all was well with her aunt.

  “You must have heard that my aunt was looking for some help?” Edith said when it seemed as though her aunt wasn’t going to begin the interview.

  “Yes, I heard that Miss Horton wasn’t suited, not completely, ever since…I heard about what happened with her previous companion.”

  She blushed painfully, her angular face changing from a sallow look to bright pink.

  Edith thought it hardly surprising that news of Esther Kirk had reached Vera and tried to rescue her.

  “That’s all right. Perhaps you’d like to tell us where you’ve been working and how exactly you see things working out here, with my aunt.”

  Edith glanced at Aunt Alicia, suddenly conscious of how much she was taking charge and how she might need to pull back and let her aunt lead the way.

  But her aunt was looking at the young woman, studying her and Edith thought she looked content.

  “Well, I’ve been working in London, Miss Horton,” as she said that she looked from one to the other, clearly trying to include both.

  “I came back to Yorkshire, about six months ago.”

  She shifted in the chair and Edith saw an unease cross her face. She hoped the girl wasn’t lying to them.

  “I came back to be with my family. My brother hasn’t been the same since the war and I could tell by my mam’s letters that she was worried. Her and my dad, they’re getting on. Davy has always been a worry but…I’m not sure if it is that he’s getting worse or my parents are getting older but…” Her voice trailed off.

  Aunt Alicia folded her hands in her lap and giving a quick glance at Edith began talking to the young woman.

  “I fully understand, dear, that you felt the need to be near your family. But, how have you been living since you came back up here?”

  “I had some savings,” Vera said.

  She licked her lips, looked nervous and Edith was sure now that she wasn’t telling them everything.

  “I think I realised that it wasn’t so much that mam and dad needed someone living in the house–Davy doesn’t need looking after in that way…I mean he can see to himself and all that. It’s more that they need someone close by.”

  She looked directly at Aunt Alicia now.

  But, it’s crowded or at least it seems that way to me now, I suppose I’ve got used to my own bit of space, like.”

  Aunt Alicia looked at her, puzzled now.

  “But, you mean you could live in?”

  It almost broke Edith’s heart to hear the note of hope in her aunt’s voice. Evidently she had been putting a brave face on things and was a lot lonelier, than she admitted.<
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  The girl’s voice was hesitant.

  “Yes, please if that would be possible, like, Miss.”

  “And you don’t have a young man?”

  There was a heavy silence. Edith could hardly believe her aunt had just come out with the question, but she was shrewd as usual because it was clear that she’d hit on something.

  “I did have. It was part of the reason I came back up ‘ere if I’m honest. But, now it’s over.”

  She clamped her mouth tight shut at that and Edith was sure there was a story there.

  Edith dared to probe a little more. “Mrs. Braithwaite…works for my brother and me. Well, her daughter, Cathy knows your sister, Elsie. Strange, I suppose that as you’ve come back to your home village as she has left it.”

  Vera laughed, a forced kind of laugh.

  “Yes, I suppose so, right enough, Miss. She went to London, wanted to see the bright lights.”

  Again, a pause fell and Edith wondered whether or not to mention Daphne Sheridan and what happened. She needn’t have worried because Vera obviously knew about it though not much time had elapsed since the murder.

  Edith told herself not to be so stupid. Something as sensational as that happening and so soon after the shooting of Giles Etherington would spread through this dale surroundings with shocking rapidity.

  “I’m not sure what will happen now. Elsie probably won’t be wanted in London after what happened to the mistress, will she? But, I can’t see our Elsie wanting to come back here. I don’t reckon she’s seen anything like enough of London life, yet.”