Death at Dawn

by Noreen Wainwright

  “He gets bad headaches and they’re made worse by any kind of pressure.” Mrs. Bishop’s tone was even but Edith knew there was admonition in her words.

  “Can I get you a cup of tea?” the woman asked, her manners so bred into her that she seemed able to fight her urge to be rid of Edith.

  Davey came back to the table with a glass of water. He was looking down.

  “No, thank you very much, Mrs. Bishop. I don’t think you’re able to help me and I’m sorry if I’ve upset…either of you.”

  Mrs. Bishop nodded and Davey sat down and took the tablets, still avoiding eye contact.

  It was as she was getting to her feet feeling awkward and defeated that Davey looked straight at her; true blue eyes in a face, so handsome it was breathtaking.

  “Young girl, taken? Not Colonel’s Etherington’s daughter.

  Edith looked across at Mrs. Bishop and sat down again. She hardly dared hope, but he knew something.

  “It’ll be Michael Benson. He were always going to do something bad, were Michael.”

  “Davey, what are you saying?” Mrs. Bishop’s tone was such that Edith changed her mind back again. Mrs. Bishop was in control here.

  “Let me be now, mam. My head is bad and I’m going to go to my bed. I’m sorry, Miss. I hope you find the little girl. He’s bad, Michael, always were bad to the core. He deserved ‘is punishment, drunk and swearing at an officer; confined to barracks, lucky to ‘av escaped shackles. Always ‘eld it against Colonel Etherington, though. You’re right mam, don’t know why I go to the pub with them…does my mind no good.”

  Edith couldn’t believe it when he got up and through a door at the other side of the kitchen that must have led to the staircase. Surely, Mr.s Bishop wasn’t just going to let him go like this when he could help them to find Daisy? The woman had lost two children and look at how damaged Davey was; surely she would do anything in her power to spare another mother, other parents.

  “Mrs. Bishop?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “When Davey gets them headaches he’s fit for nowt. I’m sorry but that’s how he is, how he’s been left. He can barely lift ‘is head from the pillow.”

  But, Edith thought, it just isn’t good enough. Her frustration filled her head making her feel as if her very blood was fizzing. She got up and turned to the door. Inactivity wasn’t possible. However, pointless she would have to do something.

  There was a commotion and the door leading to the stairs flew open. It was Davey and Edith’s heart leaped because his face was dark with anger.

  “I’ll find him, Miss.”

  He ignored his mother’s cry for him to calm down and stay put and made for the door.

  Edith followed him, ignoring Mrs. Bishop’s words though she heard them.

  “Oh, Miss Horton what have you done?,” the woman said.

  Chapter 43

  Daisy closed her eyes. If she couldn’t see him, maybe he couldn’t see her. That was stupid; something she’d believed as a small child. Her fringe clung to her forehead and her stomach cramped. The breaths hurt deep in her throat. She’d stopped running when she’d reached a place where gorse bushes stretched across half the field. When the gorse is out of flower, kissing is out of fashion. She and Bea had heard that and thought it was the funniest thing ever.

  It would be better if Bea was with her, now. She’d no idea where she was. After the first few minutes in the truck when she’d visualised them going down Back Lane and turning into the main road leading away from the valley where her farm was, she’d lost track. For now, she was safe because she crouched behind some of the bushes and she could see all around.

  A moth of fear fluttered in her throat. In not many minutes it would be pitch dark and what would she do then? Then, tears came and she couldn’t stop them. When she heard her own voice sobbing it shocked her. She’d have to stop this. He would hear her and catch her and kill her and it would be her own stupid fault. Michael would hear her–she knew his name. He turned up on the farm at times, when they were busy, with harvesting or when they were killing and dressing the turkeys for Christmas.

  A sudden loud noise made her close her eyes, again, in terror. Stop it, stop it, she told herself. It was an owl hooting and it was the loneliest, saddest thing she’d ever heard. How long had she been here? She really wanted to go home. Would Michael have given up by now, or would he be stamping through the hedges and bushes with a stick in his hand like she’d seen the men flushing out the game birds. She’d count to a hundred really slowly. In her mind, not out loud. Doing that made her feel worse. It was almost dark but she could see a gate. If she could get to the gate there might be a track and there might be a farmhouse. Like home and in her mind’s eye, she saw herself knocking on the door and someone coming and it being light and warm.

  She got up and her legs hurt where she’d been crouching. A tall figure was loping across the field straight towards her.

  Chapter 44

  Edith convinced Davey Bishop to get in the car. It didn’t feel, in the slightest, a dangerous thing to do; maybe, she’d wonder at the wisdom of it later. For now, she’d trust her instinct.

  “He’ll have taken th’little girl up Solomon’s Parks; there’s a stone building up there, derelict like. It’s ‘is home ground, like; always gone up there from a lad before the army.”

  Edith struggled to follow him. He showed no doubt that Michael Benson had taken Daisy but he spoke in a disjointed way on the journey and Edith didn’t ask questions not wanting to throw him further off balance. You either entered Davey’s world or you didn’t communicate with him and Edith reckoned that was what his family must have discovered.

  “He shouldn’t ‘av done it, Colonel Etherington. It don’t do to make an enemy of Michael and he’s been brooding about it ever since…off and on you might say. Might ‘av been all right but then Giles Etherington went in for politics, always in th’local paper, on about standing for parliament…riled Michael, that, so he could ‘ardly talk about anything else. Got up a trip, with me and Stephen to go down to London and interrupt one of his meetings…’ad it worked out that when Etherington got up to speak he’d butt in, like and tell the roomful of people what e’d done. Only, it didn’t work like that, did it? We was soon thrown out and that didn’t go down well with Michael…”

  Edith listened hard, it wasn’t always easy to follow his rambling talk but her mind buzzed with questions. What had Giles done to Michael Benson? She had an idea of what this had been about. Giles had been a harsh disciplinarian, but that was a long time ago and why had it had such an effect on Benson? More pressing was the thought of where they were going now and what they might be walking into. She glanced quickly sideways at Davey Bishop and hoped that he was right, hoped that she was not in danger of putting the child at further risk by turning up with Davey, unarmed, unprepared and with no authority whatsoever. What Inspector Greene and Archie would say…she shook her head; that thought would have to be put away for now.

  Chapter 45

  I’m going to choke, Daisy thought. The handkerchief, Michael Benson had tied around her mouth was tight and it smelt of oil and it was disgusting. Every few seconds a feeling of wanting to be sick made her mouth water and brought a stone cold feeling to the pit of her stomach.

  I can’t be sick, she thought, still in the grip of panic after he’d tied the hankie and swearing and shouting had thrown her into the stone shed. The shouting really frightened her because she thought he wouldn’t do that for fear of someone hearing him so they must be really far from any chance of that happening or else he was past caring and that thought made everything scarier.

  She made her thoughts dwell on Barney, on his coat and how warm and snuggly it was and how he licked her face and she pretended to be cross. She made her mind go through their trip to the brook at the bottom of the cow parsley meadow. She’d make a picnic which was just big slices of bread spread with damson jam and a bottle of milk and Barney would wag his tail
and be crazy with excitement despite the fact that they did this every day nearly in the summer holidays.

  Daisy came back though now, to the hard ground. Her daydream had almost worked. The sick feeling had gone and she managed to slow her breathing because in her panic she’d been trying to gulp in air around the handkerchief and that had made the choking, sick feeling worse.

  It was getting cold. He’d tied her hands too with a rope, pulling and pushing her roughly and swearing all the time. Her arms ached, but that wasn’t as bad as the sick feeling had been. Daisy heard a sound then, a shouting and a banging and her heart hammered.

  Chapter 46

  “Stop it!” Edith shouted. A wave of dizziness almost felled her. She clutched at the front of her jacket, feeling helpless.

  “Stop it,” she shouted again. Never had she felt more ineffectual and angry with her uselessness, she went right up to the two men who were rolling on the ground and after taking a breath, pulled at the back of Davey’s coat. For a second she felt his arm come back and thought she was going to be flung hard to the ground, himself. But, he stopped and she knew that she had reached him wherever he was.

  “Leave it for the police, Davey. Otherwise you’ll be the one locked up. The first thing is to get the child, to get Daisy,” she repeated, wanting to get through to him.

  “Can you hold him, restrain him, or something while, I get Daisy?”

  “Yeah,” he barked out, his voice sounding shaken.

  He’s far from well, Edith thought as she went over to the stone building. There was a door, which was battered and the wood was broken in parts. It was wedged shut with a huge coping stone. She pushed the stone aside and hands shaking, she opened the door.

  “Oh, Daisy, you poor child. Let me get those ties off you. Let me take you home. I’ll have you home soon, with your mummy and daddy.”

  As she spoke quietly to the child, Edith untied the dirty handkerchief and with more difficulty, the rope. She couldn’t properly see her in the dim light coming through the glassless window and the open door.

  Daisy was sobbing.

  Suddenly, she cried out, “Sick, I feel sick,” and Edith led her out of the shed, away from where–she hoped–Davey was just restraining Michael Benson and not killing him.

  Though she sobbed and retched, Daisy didn’t actually vomit.

  “Shh, you’re all right, it’s all right Daisy, it’s over. Come on–let’s take you home.

  “He’s the man who killed Uncle Giles, isn’t he?” Daisy seemed to have recovered. The fresh air and the knowledge that she was going home had transformed her and Edith wondered at the lightening mood changes of childhood.

  She didn’t want to answer her, didn’t want to jump the gun, but looking at the girl, she sighed. Why not be honest?

  “I’m pretty sure he is, Daisy, but,” she hesitated.

  “Maybe it’s best to stand back; you and me, I mean and let the police come to that conclusion…what do you think?”

  Chapter 47

  Daisy had run into the house; sore wrists, sickness, terror, seemingly forgotten, or, Edith thought, forgotten for now anyway. In the midst of the euphoria, of Georgina and Angus’s joy and gratitude, Edith saw Inspector Greene glaring at her. He’d said virtually nothing to her and such had been the chaos of talking to officers and relatives and sending a police car to secure Michael Benson, she was sure no-one had noticed. She was conscious of it and angered herself by adopting a retiring almost humble demeanour, telling everyone it was the merest chance that she had stumbled on the truth, by accident. But, she knew she would have to make a statement and answer to him.

  “I didn’t have time to come here or go to a police station or anything else, Inspector. I’m sorry, but all I can say is that I did what felt right at the time.”

  Sergeant Brown looked across at her and she knew she wasn’t imagining the sympathy she saw in his face.

  “It could have ended very differently for you, for the child.”

  Edith’s anger intensified, a bitter sour feeling. What was he talking about…she had done her best; made the best decision she could make at that moment.

  She would…no… tiredness blasted her so unexpectedly, not unpleasantly, like someone covering her with a warm blanket.

  She would sit here just for a few minutes longer like a naughty schoolgirl at the headmistress’s office. What did it matter? The child was safe; both children were safe and Giles’s murderer had been caught. There was something else too, something it wasn’t easy to share. She was very glad that it hadn’t been Davey Bishop. He had his problems but he hadn’t done this; he hadn’t killed Giles or taken a child. She would stay here and listen and then ask questions of her own. She was going to see Julia in the morning and she needed to have things clearer in her mind than the half-story she had now, which was made up of her own reasoning and the disjointed meandering of Davey in the car.

  Chapter 48

  “That’s strong.” Edith put the coffee cup on the table.

  “Sorry,” Julia said.

  “No, I need it. Look outside, the mist, it’ll soon be autumn.” Edith laid her head back for a moment against the blue-checked cushion. They were in the Etherington’s sunroom and Julia had poured the coffee. Neither of them was interested in the biscuits.

  “This Michael?” Julia’s tone was tentative and Edith knew she both did and didn’t want to find out. She would tell her, of course. Honesty, from now on.

  “He went out to France with the other local lads; a group of them, Davey Bishop was one and that other lad…”

  “The one who was shot.”

  “The one who was shot…Jack Peters. That tormented Davey, who as you could see has suffered his own problems anyway. It especially tormented him, when it seemed that Giles was going into politics; might even be elected. I think, it was, I suppose rubbing their faces in it; doing what he did and coming home and it seemed, or it must have seemed, even being rewarded..”

  “Stupid,” Julia said. “Stupid, stupid, stupid that party, what he was claiming to believe in; a bunch of throwbacks, oh Giles.”

  She sighed and Edith let a moment elapse.

  “Michael Benson was different, from what I can gather and from what I saw myself too…a nasty, cold-hearted thug. He preyed on Davey Bishop; the others, the others who had been friends, the little group. Saw his opportunity; encouraged Davey to get himself wound up, talk about what they would do to Giles, egged him on…I think Davey became so confused at one point that he thought he was responsible, that he’d shot Giles. When it came to Daisy though, when there was an obvious connection between her disappearance and Giles’s death something clicked and he knew that he couldn’t have done that and neither had he shot Giles. Thank God that something did click and thank God he came to Solomon’s Parks with me.”

  “Giles was…he was…” Julia put a hand to her forehead and looked lost. “I suppose his strengths were his weaknesses too.

  Edith nodded. That was it; the bravery and the carelessness of his own safety had a flip side. Maybe he lacked the ability to imagine the impact of some of his decisions. Davey had been bitter and fragile and at times obsessed by what had happened to Jack Peters.

  The punishment meted out by Giles on Michael Benson had a deeper and more devastating effect. He had been hauled over the coals, publicly humiliated, confined to barracks. From what Edith read and heard, it could have been worse, some miscreants had been treated even more harshly. One thing to imagine the effects of that on a character like Davey, something else again on what it would do to someone who was already what Davey had called, “a nasty piece of work.”

  Now wasn’t the time to talk to Julia about court martial and punishment.

  “Daphne Sheridan?” Julia’s tone was steady; mention of the woman no longer made her angry.

  “Elsie Bishop was Benson’s dupe and his spy in Daphne’s house, gave him information on Giles and her, their affair.” Edith paused.

  “I think when
he found out what Giles was…that he was involved with that woman, he felt things were going his way. He had even more ammunition. He will have tried something on Daphne; blackmail, extortion, nobody is sure and there’s no-one left to ask.” She paused.

  “But, why kill her?” Julia asked.

  “I think Daphne’s character; what you and I saw…that utter self-belief, her selfishness was her downfall.”

  “So, you saw it too, that selfishness?”

  “Oh, Julia, of course I did. I don’t know this for sure; it is guessing, but perhaps she thought she could work her charm…or whatever it was on Michael Benson.”

  Julia shivered.

  “It didn’t work.”

  “No, she underestimated him by a mile.”

  They sat in silence.

  A sound reached them, growing louder as Bea and Daisy approached the house.

  “She’s hardly stopped talking since Daisy came home,” Julia said.

  ABOUT NOREEN WAINWRIGHT

  Noreen is Irish and now lives in the Staffordshire Moorlands with her husband, a dairy farmer. She works part-time as a mentor at Staffordshire University and the rest of her time is spent writing. Many of her articles and short stories have been published and she has co-written a non-fiction book.

  She loves crime fiction, particularly that of the “golden age” and that is what she wants to recreate with Edith Horton’s world.

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  Blog - http://www.ahomespunyear.blogspot.com