Death at Dawn

by Noreen Wainwright

  “Whatever more can they do to our Jack, father?” Then, she laughed, shortly.

  The kettle sang and she went to fill the pot, her movements sharp; all the sound seeming loud–the water splashing into the pot, the bang as she put it down again on the stove. She stirred the pot with a large spoon and took mugs out of a cupboard. She was jerkily going through the motions of a hospitality she certainly didn’t feel.

  That’s when the Inspector took control of the situation and for once, Brown was glad at his high handedness.

  “I’m sorry to have had to come up here like this and bring any more trouble to your door. But, nevertheless it’s my job. Giles Etherington was shot and now a young woman has also died in suspicious circumstances.

  Both of the Peters looked up at this.

  “We have to follow every possible connection with Giles Etherington.”

  He paused.

  “In spite of your understandable anger, both of you, I still hope that you will give me that. We have to ask questions and in the course of that, sadly we have to rake over old coals.”

  He stopped then and Brown hoped he wasn’t imagining the loosening of the tension in the room.

  Somehow, the inspector had struck the right note. In this case, Brown recognised that he’d just been honest with them.

  “We do understand, Inspector,” it was Mr. Peters who spoke.

  “Life may have stopped for th’missus and me up here, but we know that isn’t the case for the whole world.”

  Brown glanced at her and saw her lips compressed and her eyes downcast. It was clear that tears were not far away.

  Still, Inspector Greene ploughed on and Brown recognised that it was the only way to go here, quickly and straight to the point. However unlikely it was that either of these people would have shot Giles Etherington–in fact it was ludicrous, there might be someone else here, a sibling maybe.

  “What was done to our lad was brutal Inspector. And when I say, lad, that’s what he was. Think about it, eighteen years old; not very long before he’d been running round the field at the back with a football and pushing an old cart he’s knocked together with a few other lads, down yon hill. What they did to him, destroyed him, ruined his nerves and then as a final insult, shot by ‘is own side; sentenced and shot to death by the very people as should ‘ave been looking out for him. Actually, no, Inspector…that’s not even the final insult–that’s that his family received no pension and lad’s name’s not on the monument in the village.”

  Brown felt like there was a weight pressing down on the back of his neck. He supposed he’d no right to feel like that, but he couldn’t help it. The story weighed him down.

  “I’ll tell you something Inspector,” Mrs. Peters continued, her voice stronger.

  “I stayed away from Chapel for a few years since the day we got the news and I’ve never voted, ever since, since women got the vote that is. I’ve nothing against Mrs. Etherington or her children, but I can feel no sorrow for what befell th’man–that’s how it is. All we ask now is to be let get on with our lives up here.”

  “I can see your point, Mrs. Peters but I still must ask you a few questions. Is it just the two of yourselves, here now?”

  She saw what he was getting at and Brown saw the flash of anger in her face and her battle to contain it.

  “Yes, Inspector–there’s no one left in this house to do any harm to Colonel Etherington. Our two remaining children have long gone. Our Jimmy took hisself off down south, not far from London, working on the railways. The girl, our Kitty is fairly local though, married and settled. I daresay it wasn’t easy for them living in this house in the time after the war. We’re not big mixers, Inspector, but there was a party in Ellbeck on Armistice; a bonfire, a brass band, that sort of thing. Can you imagine how that made us feel? We stayed away, but it were hard to miss the signs of it when I went to The Miss Sowerbys for my bits and pieces of shopping.”

  Again, there was a silence and Brown felt a twist of pity for them, in his chest.

  They drank their tea and the conversation seemed painful–dragged out. After such a grave subject, it was difficult to lighten the mood.

  As they drove away, Brown couldn’t see that the answer to the case lay in Outer Ellbeck but surely, there must be some connection?

  Chapter 36

  Daisy threw herself into hay-making; the last lot of the summer, dad said and that they’d better get on with it as the days were already drawing in and the evenings were cool.

  Round and round her head it went, what Bea had said, about the man and about being frightened.

  “Can Bea come and help us?” she’d asked her mother, “you could ring up and ask and maybe go and fetch her if Aunt Julia us too busy…and…”

  But, her mother had shook her head, “Not today, Daisy. Bea needs to spend time at home with her mother and her brothers too, they’re going back to the school at the weekend.”

  No, she doesn’t Daisy thought. She can’t talk to them, she can only talk to me. Suddenly, the urge to confide in her mother was so strong that she opened her mouth and then, in her mind’s eye, she saw Bea’s face, how she’d looked with wide eyes and terror in them as she’d made Daisy promise not to tell. Maybe, she could tell her mother and make her promise…but, she knew once this information was passed to an adult it just wouldn’t stop there. Her mother wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.

  So, in the hay-field, her younger brother looked at her as she moved the hay so fast that he could hardly keep up with her. Her arms hurt and her legs ached and she tried hard to block out thoughts; to stop thinking.

  It was a terrific rush to get all this last lot of hay in, they all knew that thunder was coming. Men had appeared from neighbouring farms and Daisy knew that her dad would be doing the same when it came to their harvests. Normally, she really enjoyed these times, nothing ever tasted as nice as the lemonade her mother made and brought out in stone bottles. The combination, of sharp lemon and sugar, deliciously washed away the dust and the dryness and the ham sandwiches tasted about a million times better than when she had them from her school lunch box. One of the best things about helping with haymaking was the delicious sleepiness that made you almost too tired to wash before falling into bed and going to sleep instantly. But, now, her mind was filled with Bea and what she’d said. Then, at last it was time for a rest and she was sitting with her brother apart from the men and he was rattling on and on about football.

  The men were laughing now and she caught the words and her skin prickled–one of them was really swearing, every other word was a swear word. He was big and dark and had a bad leg. That was all she knew about him.

  Her brother, Tim looked at her and grinned.

  “Shut up man, kids can hear you.” Someone said and for a few seconds there was silence.

  Daisy wanted to get away from there urgently–she wanted to be back in the farm kitchen with her mother and her dog–Barney hadn’t been allowed to come in case he got in the way.

  “I’m going back,” she said to Timmy and got up and ran across the field over the stubble–her feet wouldn’t move fast enough. The sky looked black and if it was tilting down to meet her and then she tripped and someone moved towards where she lay, and she sobbed.

  Julia swallowed back temper. What was she doing feeling like this? She didn’t want to feel angry with her daughter, but she couldn’t help this surge of frustration and rage that she was trying to suppress.

  “Beatrice, darling…please.” She kept her voice deliberately calm and low.

  “Bea, if there’s anything I can do, or Lottie? What would make you feel better?”

  Beatrice just stared at her and in her eyes Julia thought she saw triumph.

  No, she was being stupid.

  Then, Beatrice spoke and Julia felt her heart rate quicken.

  “Daddy,”

  Julia went across to where Bea was sitting and put an arm around her.

  “I know darling, I know.”
/>
  It was inadequate, but Julia was out of her depth.

  Then, Beatrice put her hands over her eyes.

  “I’m frightened, mummy. The bad man…”

  Julia saw her eyes widen and felt her own stomach lurch.

  “What are you taking, Beatrice? What do you mean about a bad man? Do you know something?”

  Beatrice shook her head and said, “I want Lottie.”

  “I’ll get her,” Julia swallowed back her annoyance, her jealousy. Her daughter had spoken–that was a huge step. This business about a man. It made her uneasy, but it could mean absolutely nothing. After all, someone had killed her father, and it was likely that a man had done it. Or, it could mean something. Had Beatrice seen anything when she had found Giles’s body? Surely, she’d have said something? But, what if she too was frightened to speak? Had her silence of the last couple of weeks been because she was too frightened to speak? Julia needed help and advice. She would telephone Edith.

  “She wants you, Lottie. She’s been upset, but one good thing…she has actually spoken.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Etherington, that’s a big step forward. I haven’t been able to get a word out of her. Nothing works. You know she even seemed frightened about going to the stables and seeing Frankie. She hasn’t wanted to go riding and neither has she spoken to me so as I say, it’s a real step forward.

  They went upstairs together and Julia went to telephone Edith. Edith was at home with Henry and agreed to come and see Julia.

  Julia sat with Beatrice and stroked her hair. She wasn’t sure whether the child was asleep, but gradually the shuddering sobs turned into steady breathing and she guessed that her daughter had thankfully, drifted off. She’d stay with her, for now though.

  It hadn’t felt like a breakthrough–the opposite–she’d been so upset but at last Bea had been pulled out of that state she’d been in, since finding her father’s body. After a couple more minutes, Julia tucked the eiderdown around her daughter’s shoulders and went back downstairs to where Edith was waiting.

  “How is she?”

  Edith looked at her friend and was desperate for her, for things to somehow get better. It was unrealistic to expect a rapid recovery from what had happened, but if the perpetrator was caught, then maybe they would all find some peace. The boys were going back to scout camp on Monday.

  “I’m dreading it,” Julia had told her but added that it was also for the best.

  “Edward needs to get back to his routine and hard as it is to admit it, Charles needs to get away from me, at least for a while.” Her voice wobbled at that but Edith hadn’t contradicted her. It was true that the boy needed time and distance from home to think through what had happened and to stop blaming his mother.

  Now, Julia said, “I don’t know what happened today. I haven’t allowed her out on Frankie, though it was only today that she said anything, showed any interest.” She hesitated and looked at Edith.

  “I’m worried about her safety.”

  Edith felt her stomach grow cold, icy, just for a second.

  “In what way, Julia? What do you mean?”

  “She hasn’t spoken since that morning. I was at the point of taking her to see Archie, again. Then, this morning she said something about being frightened. She spoke, Edith, but she wasn’t herself.”

  “What did she say, Julia.”

  “She said that the man was watching her and that she was frightened. She was crying and shaking. I don’t know whether she’d seen something or heard something…oh, Edith, I really don’t know.”

  Julia put her arms out in front of her, palms up, utter frustration in her stance.

  “I’m wondering if she saw something or heard something or, I don’t know, just remembered something from when she found Giles’s body…”

  Edith’s mind raced and she felt the confusion of incipient panic, being unable to think straight. There was something lurking in her mind, some sense of danger. She was being stupid. Beatrice was safely upstairs. She saw Davey Bishop in her mind’s eye, remembered how he’d plucked at the back of his collar, his elbow sticking out.

  “Has Inspector Greene been back today?” she asked, but really her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was back at the Bishop’s house, back in the homely kitchen where the air of turbulence was almost palpable under the surface. Or, was that nonsense, all in her own head?

  Julia’s voice sounded as if it was coming from a distance away.

  “No, he went to London, I believe. Edith! What’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Edith shook her head and brought her mind back to the here and now.

  “I don’t know Julia, that’s the truth. I don’t know what’s wrong. I went to the Bishop’s house today; one of the girls, women, has applied for the position with Aunt Alicia–you know she needs someone in the house.”

  Julia frowned in remembrance and understanding.

  “Gosh, yes, poor woman. Quite a responsibility to get it right. Bishop…do I know them?”

  Edith hesitated. This had never been mentioned. It was more than sensitive.

  “I think Davey Bishop and another brother too, served under Giles in the war.” She paused and watched Julia’s expression change from being mildly interested to being watchful.

  Edith decided she’d have to continue. Someone was going to bring this up, this connection. Maybe if it was her, then it wouldn’t be such a shock.

  She took a deep breath.

  “I think there might be a connection, Julia; a connection between the war and what happened to Giles, his murder.”

  Julia looked unblinking at her for several seconds, then got up and went to the window. She looked out towards the garden and then turned back to Edith, half-turned back to Edith, so her face was not clearly visible.

  Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke.

  “No, Edith, no…please don’t say that. Don’t talk about that time. I don’t think I can bear it.”

  Edith’s heart raced uncomfortably for a few seconds.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it and the last thing I want to do is to upset you, Julia, but I think it will be brought up.”

  She hesitated, Julia said she didn’t want to talk about what had happened in France and she would respect that; but she knew about it.

  “Giles talked about it, then?” she ventured, ready to pull back if Julia gave the slightest indication of being unwilling to answer.

  “Yes, not often but he told me what happened and I knew him well enough to see that even though he completely denied it, what he did played on his mind; not all the time, not often even,, but I think, when it did, it was bad.”

  Edith felt a mixture of pity, though she wasn’t too sure who for and relief that this subject had been raised and Julia seemed to have calmed a little.

  The sound of the telephone ringing shocked both of them out of the intensity of the moment.

  Julia rushed to the door; Edith thought she was glad of a distraction something to break the tension and the pain conjured up by their conversation.

  When she came back into the room, her eyes were wide and her lips and face pale.

  “That was Georgina, Giles’s sister. Little Daisy has gone missing. She didn’t come back after hay-making and they can’t find her anywhere.”

  Edith took in a deep breath Calm down, she ordered herself. This was bad. What she did next was crucial.

  “God, Edith, they’re distraught, just telephoned the police. Should I go up there, do you think?”

  “No, Julia, we need to think. There’s something…a connection, there’s bound to be. We need to think.”

  Though she heard herself repeatedly saying that they needed to think, Edith was finding it very difficult as images and snatches of conversation chased through her mind. The Bishop’s house, Davey Bishop talking about Giles in that way; what had Vera said…Daphne Sheridan coming up here.

  “Can I go up and talk to Bea…I mean with you?”


  “Of course, but Edith she’s hardly uttered a word. Do you mean we should tell her about Daisy?”

  Edith fought down impatience; of course they had to talk to the child. She’d seen something when she found her father’s body. It was obvious…yes, maybe not obvious to Julia, yet that was hardly surprising; the woman had had shock upon shock thrown at her in the past weeks.

  “We have to, Julia…we have to ask her what she saw and what she told Daisy.”

  Julia seemed to come to herself at Edith’s words. Her colour was normal again and she touched Edith’s arm. “You’re right…of course you are. We must try to find out everything or anything that’s going to help here.

  Chapter 37

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Another sob escaped, but Daisy pressed her hands over her eyes, pushing back the tears. Her hands were wet. Why hadn’t she waited for Tim before deciding to run home through the fields? Why had she run away at all? She’d wanted to get away from that man, but she would have been safe if she’d stayed where there were other people. She should have brought Barney, no one would have dared to touch her with Barney around. It had happened so quickly that she hadn’t even had time to be frightened. Rough hands had grabbed her and lifted her high and she’d been thrown into the back of some sort of truck. It had smelled–of old clothes, damp, bad smells. She hadn’t noticed the smells so much at first, now the atmosphere was so disgusting that it had taken her over and that with the rough swaying of the truck was making her stomach hurt. A tiny worry that she’d be sick had turned into terror. If she was sick in this man’s truck, he’d kill her.

  She shouldn’t have panicked, but recognition had gradually built in her mind and she hadn’t had the time to guard against showing it. If only she’d kept her thoughts to herself until she’d got home. Tears spilled out again and her nose was blocked and the sick feeling rose again. She must stop this–she must stop the panic. If she made any noise or was sick, she would be killed. This man had killed Uncle Giles and she must somehow stop him killing her. She must make a plan.