The House Across the Street

by Lesley Pearse

  At one point Katy had screamed at her, ‘Do you really believe he set fire to number 26? Because if you don’t believe it, then you must help him.’

  Her mother’s answer had floored her. ‘By consorting with that woman right under my nose, he deserves all he gets.’

  Katy had been tempted to slap her mother’s face to bring her to her senses. But she’d controlled herself; hitting her mother would just make things worse between them.

  It was another bitterly cold day, but it was good to be out of the house and away from her mother’s malevolence. Hilda had gone on and on about Albert’s supposed affair. But if she really believed he was having an affair, Katy thought, why hadn’t she tackled him about it before? Only a completely crazy person would wake in the night to see a fire, and jump to the conclusion that her husband had started it to cover his infidelity.

  Katy had said this to her. But her mother’s answer had been that, although she’d had her suspicions her husband was having an affair, it was only confirmed after the fire because of the way he kept looking sadly across the road at the burnt-out house. And then he’d cried openly when the stretchers were brought out. Katy pointed out that she’d looked at the house sadly too, and had cried, as had probably every single one of their neighbours. Did that make them suspects, too?

  After leaving her father’s things at the police station, Katy went down to the seafront to the Marine Café. It was one of the few cafés facing the sea which opened all year, and it was renowned for its full English breakfasts. It was Rob’s favourite café; Katy always went there with him when he came home for the holidays.

  Michael Bonham had said she would recognize him by his dark brown sheepskin coat, and she did immediately. He actually looked as if the coat wasn’t his. His hair was cut very short and slicked down with Brylcreem. The knife-edge crease in his navy-blue trousers, and the highly polished expensive shoes, would both have been happier paired with a dark wool overcoat. But Katy had a feeling he didn’t want to look like a lawyer, and the sheepskin coat was a prop.

  He had got a table in the corner, at the back of the café, where presumably they wouldn’t be overheard. Close up he was older than she first thought; he had a lined face, and his eyelids drooped over washed-out blue eyes. Even his hair was white rather than blond. She guessed him to be in his late fifties.

  ‘Mr Bonham?’ she said and held out her hand. ‘I’m Katy Speed.’

  He ordered coffee for them both, asking if she’d like something to eat, too.

  ‘No, thank you, I’m too nervous to eat anything,’ she said with a glum smile.

  He put his hand over hers comfortingly. ‘Yes, I’m sure you must be. But from what I’ve learned about your father, I really don’t think the police can make this charge stick.’

  After the waitress had brought them coffee, he asked her to tell him exactly what happened the night of the fire. Then he went on to ask her what she knew of Gloria Reynolds.

  ‘She was a good, kind woman,’ Katy said. ‘I really don’t believe for one moment that she and Dad were having an affair. And even if they were, why would Dad want to kill her? Mum would be terribly angry, of course – but she tends to be angry all the time, anyway – and really an affair would just have given Dad the excuse, if he needed one, to leave her. He wouldn’t be worried about Rob and me; we are old enough to be able to cope with divorced parents. Besides, who would kill a woman he cared for just to prevent his wife finding out?’

  ‘It has happened, many times, though mostly when the wife was the wealthy spouse. Speaking of which, your father is quite wealthy. Is there any possibility Gloria could have been blackmailing him?’

  Katy looked at the lawyer askance. ‘Do you suppose a woman who helps other women get away from violent husbands would even think of blackmail?’

  ‘One wouldn’t have thought so, but all kinds of people become blackmailers, Katy. I have to ask if it was possible.’

  ‘Remember, my father is a clever businessman,’ Katy said reprovingly. ‘He’s kind and generous, but not a fool. I don’t understand why the police aren’t looking for one of the violent husbands? One of them is far more likely to have done it.’

  ‘Yes, I agree with that entirely. But I don’t think the police knew she was helping other women. I didn’t, until your father told me. This is something I must speak to them about. The very nature of the help she gave needed to be kept a secret. If those violent men knew who was helping their wives to escape them, taking the children with them, they were very likely to seek them out and drag them home.’

  ‘So surely that makes one of them a prime suspect?’

  ‘To us it does. But as I said, the police didn’t know about these beaten women that Mrs Reynolds had been helping, at the time of your father’s arrest. As far as they were concerned, the paraffin can with your father’s prints on it, and the material in his shed – which was the same cloth as was used to start the fire – were enough.’

  Katy rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘From what you’ve learned about my father, did he strike you as a stupid man?’

  ‘No, of course not. Far from it.’

  ‘Well, if he had done this terrible crime, would he leave evidence like the can and the cloth in his shed for the police to find?’

  Bonham smirked. ‘No, I wouldn’t think so. And believe me, that is something I will put to the prosecution. You are not like him in looks, Katy, but you have the same direct way of speaking, I like that.’

  They talked for some time, Katy telling him about her job at the solicitors and the one she had just got in London. ‘I’m not sure they’ll want me in either job if this gets out,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘Sadly, it will get out, Bexhill being such a small place and your father being a prominent businessman. So first thing tomorrow you must tell the senior partner at your firm. If you tell him before he hears it from someone else, he’s more likely to be sympathetic. Okay, he may feel you must go straight away, but maybe not. As for the London job, I see no real reason why you should tell them anything. It won’t affect them in any way.’

  ‘What can I do to help my dad?’ she asked. ‘Will you be talking to Gloria’s other two children? I mean they may know what she thought about Dad?’

  ‘I do want to talk to them very much, and as the funeral has been arranged for this Friday I shall go and try to talk to them, and perhaps other close friends.’

  ‘I’d like to go to the funeral too, to pay my respects,’ Katy said. ‘But I don’t suppose I’d be welcome.’

  Bonham pursed his lips. ‘No, Katy, I doubt you would be. In situations like this it is usually better to keep your distance. But I shall try to talk to the daughter.’

  ‘There was a lady called Marleen who Gloria used to call on at busy times and whenever she needed time off from her shop,’ Katy suddenly remembered. ‘I got the idea she was a very old friend, not just an employee. She lives at Cooden Beach, but I don’t know the address.’

  ‘Now that is useful.’ Bonham beamed. ‘She might be able to tell me about the woman with the black Humber.’

  ‘I wish I could do something to help,’ Katy said wistfully.

  Bonham touched her cheek gently with the palm of his hand. ‘You could rack your brains to try and remember if Gloria ever mentioned any friends, or even people she disliked. You could try asking other people you know; sometimes a bit of gossip can prove useful. The police did question the immediate neighbours just after the fire, but maybe you know other people in the road who were friendly with her?’

  Katy nodded. She couldn’t think of anyone just now, but she would mull it over and ask questions anyway. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she said.

  ‘I must go now,’ Bonham said, getting to his feet, ‘I’ve got some relatives coming for lunch, and I’ll be in trouble if I don’t get back to give my wife a hand. Now you’ve got my number, Katy, if you think of anything, or find out something, however small, ring me! Also, if you do move up to London as you’ve planned,
let me know your address and telephone number.’

  Katy walked out of the café with him, and turned down a lift home in his car. ‘A walk will do me good,’ she said as she shook his hand. ‘It may calm me down enough to prevent me attacking my mother.’

  Bonham laughed and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘This is a difficult time for you, Katy. But keep your sense of humour, and believe in your father, and I’m sure it will all come right in the end.’

  At lunchtime on Monday Katy slipped out to get some aspirin from the chemist as she had a thumping headache. After seeing Bonham on the previous day she’d gone round to tell Jilly and her family what had happened, and ended up staying with them for lunch. Even though she’d phoned to say she wasn’t coming back, she still got it in the neck when she returned home at about six. Sometimes it seemed her mother had a degree in acting the martyr. She got the whole ‘I’m here alone all the time’ routine. Katy was tempted to say her mother wouldn’t be alone if she hadn’t told the police her husband was the arsonist. She didn’t say it, though, as she wasn’t sure if it was actually Hilda who had told the police.

  Then this morning she had to brace herself to tell Mr Marshfield about her father’s arrest. She had expected him to be horrified, to tell her to leave right away. But to her surprise he was sympathetic.

  ‘How utterly ridiculous,’ he exclaimed. ‘I can’t imagine anyone less likely to wilfully start a fire.’

  ‘I hope the police and prosecution will see that about him,’ Katy said. ‘But meanwhile, Mr Marshfield, I had intended to give you a fortnight’s notice today because I’ve found another job in London. But under the circumstances you might want me to leave right now.’

  ‘I realized you were going to move on when we were asked to give you a reference, my dear. But I certainly won’t be asking you to leave now, not when you’ve been such a first-class employee. In fact, if you decide you don’t want to go to London because of your father, you may stay with us as long as you like.’

  Katy could hardly believe this cold, humourless man could be so kind. It brought tears to her eyes. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said in a small voice. ‘You can’t imagine how touched I am at your reaction. But I’m afraid my presence here might impact on the practice.’

  ‘Why should it, my dear? You have been with us for years and know most of our clients. Your father is a well-respected man, and Gloria Reynolds was a good woman. I believe most people will see this for what it is: a mistake by the police. Now run along and get ready for dictation. The practice will grind to a halt if we don’t get letters sent out.’

  But the headache had remained, and it was so hard to concentrate when she had so much on her mind. She thought a brisk walk in the fresh air might banish the headache and make her feel less exhausted and fraught.

  She bought the aspirin and went down to the seafront. On such a raw day it was deserted, as she’d expected, and the waves were pounding on the beach, threatening to crash over the sea wall.

  It was too blustery to walk comfortably so after a few minutes she crossed over and went up a side street. Glancing ahead, she saw a car she recognized pulling in to park further up the street.

  The black Humber!

  She couldn’t believe her luck. Doubling her speed, she reached the car just as the dumpy lady she’d seen so many times before got out.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Katy said breathlessly. ‘But I believe you were a friend of Gloria Reynolds. May I talk to you for a few minutes, if you aren’t too busy?’

  The older woman frowned, clearly thrown by being accosted in the street. ‘Well, yes, but you do know she died recently?’

  Katy realized the woman thought she was from the press and the idea of speaking to a journalist scared her.

  ‘Yes, I do. I live opposite Gloria, I promise you I’m not from a newspaper. I liked her very much,’ Katy said. ‘But I really must talk to you.’

  The woman still looked scared. ‘Well, I can only give you a few minutes, as I have appointments this afternoon. But come in out of this wind.’

  It was a very ordinary semi-detached house, and as the woman opened the front door Katy noted the decor was from the early fifties, with a spindle-legged telephone table and yellow-and-black contemporary wallpaper.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know your name, but I’m Katy Speed. As I live opposite Gloria, I’ve seen you visiting there many times. Her death is such a tragedy.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, a terrible thing,’ the woman said and her dark eyes filled up. ‘I’m Edna Coltrain, and could you be Albert’s daughter?’

  ‘Yes, I am. Have you met him, then?’

  ‘Just once, but Gloria spoke of him often and pointed out his home. He helped her out many times; she was very fond of him.’

  After all the bad things that had happened, it was so good to hear something good.

  ‘If that’s the case, you’ll be shocked to hear he’s been charged with setting the fire and killing Gloria and her daughter,’ Katy said. ‘It is madness, he wouldn’t hurt anyone, let alone a woman he liked and admired.’

  All the colour suddenly drained from Edna’s face.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I’ve given you a nasty shock,’ Katy said and begged Edna to sit down while she made her a cup of tea. ‘Dad told me about what you and Gloria do. In my opinion, it’s far more likely the fire was started because of that.’

  Katy went into the kitchen and made the tea. When she came back Edna’s colour had improved a little, but she still looked really shaken. Her living room was also stuck in the fifties, with everything either red or grey, and a huge gold sunray concave mirror on the chimney breast. She guessed Edna was about forty-five. Although overweight and short, she had a pretty face with soft dark eyes and beautiful skin.

  ‘I couldn’t believe Gloria and Elsie, her daughter, lost their lives in the fire.’ Edna took her cup of tea from Katy, but her voice and hands shook. ‘I heard talk that it was arson, but I thought it was just talk. And now you say your father has been blamed! Why? Gloria thought he was a sweet, kind man.’

  ‘He is,’ Katy said. ‘Someone has gone out of their way to frame him; the police found a paraffin can in his shed.’

  ‘Surely half the men in England have some paraffin in their sheds?’

  ‘Well, Dad didn’t – we don’t have any heaters that need it. Last time he used the can, it was for petrol, and his fingerprints were all over it. There was also some curtain fabric, identical to pieces found at the burning house. I think the person responsible must be one of the husbands of the women you’ve helped.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Edna clutched at her neck, looking terrified. ‘I was always afraid one of them would come after us. I said that much to Gloria, but she said bullies are cowards; they hit their wives but are afraid of everyone else.’

  ‘It seems she was wrong,’ Katy said. ‘Will you come to the police station and tell them what you know?’

  ‘My dear, I can’t do that,’ Edna gasped. ‘I’d never be able to sleep at night again.’

  Katy sat down beside the older woman on the couch and took her left hand in both of hers. ‘Edna, from what I know of Gloria, she’d expect you to help the police by telling them all you know. They will look after you.’

  ‘I can’t, Katy, I just can’t. I have a violent husband, too. If he knew where I was, he’d come and kill me.’

  All at once Katy had a better understanding of what Gloria, Edna and those other women had been through. Always looking over their shoulder in case their man came after them. It wasn’t an irrational fear, either. Any publicity could alert the man.

  ‘I’m not saying you’d have to speak up in court. Just explain to the police what you and Gloria did. If they know you are afraid of your husbands, they will look after you.’

  ‘Don’t you believe that, my dear,’ Edna said indignantly. ‘We’ve all been to hospital with injuries and broken bones, and the police have been called. All they do is take the men in, read them the riot act, then let them
go, often to go straight home and lay into their wives again. I wouldn’t mind betting most policemen hit their wives. They have the attitude that it’s a man’s right to punish his wife if she’s done something he doesn’t like.’

  ‘Please, Edna, I’ll come with you,’ Katy pleaded. ‘If you won’t go to the police, then talk to Dad’s solicitor. I’m sure Gloria would want you to.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Katy,’ Edna said, wringing her hands. ‘Gloria and I succeeded in helping women start over after a life of terror by keeping what we did a secret. Some of these women were from middle-class homes, not just worn-down drudges from slum areas. As such they were married to intelligent, powerful men. The kind of men who have fingers in many pies. What you are asking could jeopardize the present safety of dozens of women and their children.’

  Katy suddenly realized Edna and Gloria’s partnership was something special. They were brave, selfless women who could have just laid low, happy they had managed to escape cruelty, but instead they had gone out of their way to help others in the same predicament. The deaths of Gloria and her daughter were evidence of the true dangers in doing such work. How could she now expect Edna to put her life on the line?

  5

  Mr Bonham telephoned Katy at the office just as she was leaving to go home on Monday.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ he said, confirming what she had feared. ‘I’m afraid the judge wouldn’t allow bail, as it is a capital offence. Your father asked me to ring you; he said to keep your chin up and that he believes the truth will eventually come out.’