‘Well, I’m glad you’re coming, you don’t get out nearly enough.’
When the girls walked into the bar of the Royal Oak that summer evening, they were surprised to find it much fuller than usual. Fred greeted them warmly and gave them seats near the bar at a large circular table.
‘Here she is!’ he cried to the crowd in general. ‘The heroine of the hour!’
Clearly Fred had been in the pub for some time, judging by his high spirits. It seemed that he’d been regaling his audience with all the details, such as they were, of the inquest that morning. Perhaps, with the promise of a few free drinks, he’d embellished the story to suit his audience. Anyway, everyone, and there was quite a throng, appeared eager to hear Eve’s version of events. She sat at the table and took a healthy swig from the gin and orange set before her.
‘Nothing much happened that you don’t know already,’ she said, embarrassed by the powerful beam of attention. ‘The Coroner brought in a verdict of murder by person or persons unknown, and of course, they don’t know the identity of the body yet.’ She hoped that they’d leave her alone now as she had nothing more to report, but someone bought her another drink, although she hadn’t finished the first one, and pressed for more details.
‘Was it ‘orrible? Did they describe all the gory details in court?’
‘There wasn’t much to say, really, the body had been reduced to bones. They found she’d been bashed over the head.’
A gasp of horror followed these words even though Eve knew that the details had already circulated the village several times and no more juice could possibly be extracted from them.
‘Can we talk about something else,’ she begged. ‘I’ve had enough of murdered bodies for today.’
The Gossard twins, sipping gin and It and giggling at their daring at a table nearby, pulled disappointed grimaces. The rest of the crowd moved away, regret clear on their features, and Eve and Grace were able to enjoy their drinks in relative peace for a while. Grace was soon in deep conversation with Fred’s pretty young wife, Doris, who was displaying the first signs of her pregnancy. Fred treated her with almost overwhelming consideration, making sure she had everything she needed, in spite of his slightly inebriated state. Doris, who appeared to be a good natured girl, endured his ministrations with considerable patience and later started to chat to Eve about the evacuees.
‘They look a right handful,’ she said. ‘I’ve got quite enough work with the boys, and they’re at school a lot of the time and quite a bit older than your lot.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Eve, ‘but I don’t quite understand – you can’t be old enough to be the mother of a fifteen year old.’
‘Oh no, dear,’ Doris laughed, ‘they’re not mine, they’re Fred’s – I’m their stepmother.’
Eve seemed to remember Grace telling her that Doris and Fred hadn’t been married long and was about to ask a question when she was interrupted by a villager bringing her another gin.
‘Get that down ye,’ he said heartily, ‘thee’ve had a rotten day. I know what it’s like having to give evidence in court, takes it out of ye.’
‘Actually, I didn’t find it too bad,’ said Eve. ‘But thanks for the drink.’
Doris and Fred were deep in an intimate conversation when Eve turned back to the table so she rose and went to talk to Sarah Parker, the publican’s wife, who was standing behind the bar drying glasses.
‘I’ve got you to thank for this,’ Sarah said, with mock reproach, indicating the seething crowd of customers.
‘I would have thought you’d be glad of the business,’ said Eve.
‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am. I just hope we don’t run out of bitter, we’ve not had an evening like this in months. Look, even the Vicar’s here, lurking in his corner, miserable old sod. Don’t mind me, dear, I don’t mean nothing by it; we’re glad of the trade.’
Eve settled on a high stool and chatted to Sarah while her husband dealt with the steady stream of drinkers.
‘No, we’ve not been here long,’ Sarah said in reply to Eve’s questioning. ‘We were landlords of a house in Poplar, a right rough gaff, so we were thrilled to be offered management of this place. What could be better – out in the countryside and away from the Jerry’s bombs? I love it here.’
Eve thought she had found someone with whom she had common ground as soon as she heard Sarah’s cockney accent. They talked for a while about the horror of the Blitz and how wonderful it was to have the respite from the war that the countryside offered.
‘It’s bloody amazing how great it is to be in a place without all that wicked violence constantly going on around you every day and dead people lying around in the street, and people with nowhere to live. And the fires – I’ve always been terrified of fire and when they dropped them incendiaries on the docks I couldn’t stand it no more.’
‘We didn’t see quite so much of the bombing in Shepherds Bush, but it was bad enough. I stopped going down the shelter when the air raid siren sounded. I couldn’t stand being cooped up with all those terrified people for hours in the dark. In the end I stayed in my flat and took my chances,’ said Eve.
‘But it’s still going on, you know.’
‘Yes, but it’s not as bad as it was − since March really. I think Hitler’s turned his attention to other targets.’
‘Yeah. And now we’ve got a murder here – in this quiet little backwater. Who’d have thought it?’
‘I feel the same,’ said Eve. ‘I was involved in this sort of thing in London; helped the police. I never dreamed there’d be a murder here in this quiet spot. Sarah, you must hear a lot of gossip in the pub. Have you ever heard of anyone that’s disappeared from the village, or if there’s anyone here with a criminal record or a violent past? Someone who could be a murderer?’
Apparently Sarah had heard there was a man who’d been released from prison just before the war started, someone middle aged, but she didn’t know who it was or what he’d done. She’d been told that one of Mrs Gough’s boys, she wasn’t sure if it was the one at the Front or the one on the convoys, had been a troublemaker and was always getting into fights, particularly after a pint or two. The Gough boy was constantly down at the police station, in some bother or other, but probably not for much more than a fist fight or a bit of shoplifting. Apparently this was the sort of information that retiring pub landlords pass on to each other, as well as a list of the people who’d been barred from the premises. Fore-warned is fore-armed, as Sarah said.
This being the countryside, the crimes committed locally tended to relate to rural life. Lads stole milk churns from the farmer, or the occasional sheep or goat and sold them in the market in Highston. That sort of thing hadn’t happened since the War began though, because the penalties were now extremely severe, what with all the food shortages and rationing. Sheep rustling was rewarded with more than a slap on the wrist; you were more likely to get a spell in goal. Of course, there weren’t the lads around now to get into mischief – they’d all gone off to the war.
The landlord, Jack Parker, called to his wife as the bar became chaotic, nearing the time for last orders, and he needed her to help him pour drinks. Eve moved away from the bar towards the table where Fred and Doris had been joined by the doctor and his wife. It looked as if they were talking about the body again. Dr Russell’s rather drab wife appeared puzzled.
‘I don’t quite understand where the body came from. Did someone bring a dead body from somewhere else in the country entirely and bury it in our woods. It’s not a place you could take a car to, is it? You’d have to walk up there. And no-one, unless they were very strong indeed, could carry a dead body to the top of that hill.’
‘No, it certainly seems unlikely,’ said the doctor as Eve sat down at the table again. ‘Unless they walked up together and she was killed there.’
‘Then surely it must have been someone from the village?’
‘But it can’t be, my dear, no-one from the village is unaccou
nted for.’
Eve was facing the table where the twins were sitting and she was sure that Vera stiffened and looked as if she was about to speak. She must have heard every word that was spoken at their table. But at that moment her sister Emily spoke to her. They’d finished their drinks and Emily plainly thought it was time for them to go home to bed and had started to collect her belongings. The pub would be closing soon and everyone would be leaving. As the twins rose to go and they were saying their goodbyes as they weaved between the tables, Vera’s eyes strayed towards Fred with an expression that Eve found hard to fathom. She was beaming her full attention on him as if she wanted to wish him a special goodnight or say something important to him. Eve felt a flutter of sympathy. The poor lovelorn woman, she thought, it looks as if she fancies Fred Gardiner. Not a chance, my love, Eve thought, not now he’s got that lovely young wife to play with.
As the twins turned to leave, Eve saw Vera speak to Doris for a second – it seemed to be something about the baby as she stroked the girl’s stomach briefly in a gesture reminiscent of a blessing. Doris smiled her lovely warm smile, clearly thanking Vera for her concern. When she sat down next to Fred again his mood seemed to have changed and he snapped at his wife.
‘Don’t you think it’s time you went too, Doris? You’ll be tired tomorrow if you don’t.’
Obediently, Doris agreed and left the pub with Eve and Grace a few moments later. Fred, glaring morosely at his beer, practically ignored their farewells and ordered one last pint before closing time forced him to follow his wife home. Eve looked at him thoughtfully. Why had his temper changed so dramatically?
Chapter Eight
It was quite by chance that Eve bumped into Lady Passmore the next morning. Grace had sent Eve to the shop to get groceries. Her ladyship, a woman of uncertain age, probably about fifty five, was resplendently dressed in finery that Eve would have expected her to wear for lunch at the Ritz. Her stylish outfit was completed with a fox fur stole of alarming realism; its mummified head still attached and a tortoiseshell clasp holding the tail between its teeth. She was giving Mrs Forbes a hard time.
‘But I told you a week ago that I needed them. Why haven’t they been ordered?’
‘I did ask, milady, but there’s such a shortage and we haven’t seen any for months.’ Eve could almost hear her murmuring: ‘There is a War on, you know,’ under her breath, the common mantra uttered by people on whom unreasonable demands were made.
‘Well, it’s most unsatisfactory. I want them for a dinner party at the weekend. The Mayor is coming.’
‘I’m sorry, milady. We do what we can.’ Mrs Forbes withdrew her attention from lady Passmore for a moment. ‘Good morning, Miss Duncan.’
Lady Passmore wheeled around and regarded Eve with suspicion in her shrewd dark eyes.
‘Do I know you?’ she barked.
‘This is Miss Duncan, Lady Passmore, Mrs Pritchard’s sister,’ said Mrs Forbes.
‘Ah.’ Her ladyship stitched an almost-smile to her lips. ‘Yes, of course. Grace told me you were coming to stay.’
Eve regarded the woman with surprise. This dragon was on first-name terms with her sister?
‘I’ve come to help with the evacuees. It’s a lot of extra work for her.’ She felt defensive in the face of the woman’s attitude.
‘Of course it is – so unfortunate; one has no idea what sort of families these children come from or what they’ll get up to. Such a bad influence on the village children.’
‘They are a bit of a handful, but we’re managing all right, thank you.’ Eve resented the implication that the evacuees were beyond the pale. She could only assume that Lady Passmore was a terrible snob and would consider anyone from the East End of London undesirable.
Her ladyship continued – she seemed to have forgotten her dispute with Mrs Forbes.
‘Grace and I are great friends. I often present the prizes at the school’s Speech Day. Such a capable man – Hugh – such a good influence on the children. You must all come to tea. How about this Saturday?’
Eve nearly laughed when she saw, behind Lady Passmore’s shoulder, Agnes Forbes’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline.
‘Thank you so much, Lady Passmore, that would be lovely. I’ll tell Grace when I get home.’
The overdressed woman swept towards the door. ‘Good. I’ll see you at 3.30 on Saturday at the Dower House. You can bring the children and let them play in the Park if you like. But they can’t come into the house.’ She slammed the shop’s door behind her with finality, causing the glass panel to rattle.
Eve drew the shopping list out of the basket and gave it to Mrs Forbes.
‘Well,’ the shopkeeper said, ‘you are honoured, tea at the Dower House.’
‘Don’t. She’s terrifying, isn’t she?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about her, her bark’s worse than her bite. And she’ll give you a good tea; her cook’s my sister and she bakes a lovely sponge cake.’
‘They’re lucky to have enough eggs,’ said Eve.
‘They’ve got an enormous hen house on the estate and a gamekeeper to keep the foxes away and slops from the hospital kitchen to feed them. Don’t you worry, they’ve plenty of eggs.’
Eve completed her shopping and walked back to the house with her burden. On the way she passed the village school where the children were out in the playground for their mid-morning break. They were dashing around making an enormous amount of noise. She stopped for a moment and watched them. Little Stan spotted her and waved. He looked pleased to see her, a gappy grin spread over his face and, since his attention was diverted from the game he was playing, he missed the ball that was thrown to him amidst jeers from the other boys. Eve stepped away and continued home, thinking how fond she was becoming of the children and how she’d miss all this when she went back to Shepherds Bush.
When Eve got in she told Grace about their invitation to tea with Lady Passmore.
‘Oh, how kind of her,’ Grace said. ‘Don’t worry, she’s not as bad as she seems at first. I think she’s lonely with Lord Passmore and her children away.’
‘I didn’t realise she had children. But of course, she must have.’
‘Yes, they had to have an heir at least. There are two grown up boys and a daughter in the ATS. One of the boys is in London, working with Winnie in the War Office, he’s the Viscount, the heir, and the other one is working on something very hush-hush – we’re not supposed to ask and they won’t talk about it.’
‘Goodness, how exciting!’
Eve was quite looking forward to tea with the countess now and hoped they might have a chance to look around the ancestral home.
‘Yes, we’ll be able to go up to the Hall if there’s time. Lady P is always up there taking in books and things for the wounded soldiers and the convalescents. Some of them are in pretty bad shape, but a lot of them are nearly ready to leave and go back to the fighting. I think Lady P plays cards with them and draughts and so on; she can be quite good company when she puts her mind to it.’
‘I imagine some of them must be dreading getting better. It sounds as if they have a pretty comfortable time there.’
Grace smiled sadly. ‘Yes, I expect you’re right. But they have to go back; they don’t have any choice unless their wounds are so bad that they’ll never be fit again. There are quite a few amputees, you know. It’ll take a while for them to adjust to ordinary life.’
Eve helped Grace put the shopping away and contemplated the fate of the injured soldiers. If she had time she would like to meet some of them, she was sure they’d like some female company other than the snobbish Lady Passmore.
*
Saturday turned out to be sunny for once and at three o’clock, dressed up in frocks thought suitable for tea with the aristocracy and with Hugh in tow, wearing his habitual tweed sports jacket and grey flannel bags – he refused to put on a suit on a Saturday however lofty the company – they walked out of the village towards Passmore Hall. The children, ni
ne in all as June had given permission for her two evacuee girls to come, scurried around them, excited at the prospect of being allowed to explore the grounds of the stately home.
‘For goodness sake, behave yourselves,’ Hugh’d admonished before they left the house. ‘Keep all your clothes on, don’t walk on the flower beds and do as you’re told.’
It seemed that one of the under-gardeners, an asthmatic lad of nineteen who wasn’t fit for call-up, was to escort the children through the estate and see that they got up to no mischief. He met them at the intricately wrought gates to the property and took off with the children following in an excited gaggle.
Eve watched in trepidation as they trotted away, fully expecting the afternoon to end in disaster. But it wasn’t really her concern as Hugh and Grace had ultimate responsibility for the kids and they’d sanctioned this outing. You never know, she reminded herself, they may be fine. Eve had resigned herself to take pleasure in the afternoon. It would come as a tremendous relief to spend the time enjoying the comforts of a stately home and not have to even think about the horror of murder and dead bodies. She just hoped that Lady Passmore’s company didn’t prove to be too stuffy and judgemental; Eve hated being patronised.
Eve had brought Jake along and he was greeted at the gates by two over-wrought whippets, Lady Passmore’s pets, circling and sniffing with fast-wagging tails. Unlike his relationship with June’s bad-tempered pug, Jake took to these dogs immediately and the three tore off, dancing and leaping across the grass until they disappeared into the distance behind the children.
‘They’ll be fine,’ said Hugh. ‘Lady Passmore lets them run wild in the grounds. They’re very obedient and will come back when she whistles for them.’
Eve wished she could say the same for Jake.
They walked up the drive, at least a quarter of a mile long, under a green canopy of elm trees in full, rustling leaf and arrived at the Dower House on the dot of three thirty. Hugh knocked with the lion’s head brass door knocker. A maid in uniform opened the door and ushered them into the cool hall. If this was merely the Dower House, Eve thought as she walked into the tiled and panelled vestibule, what must the big house be like? The place reeked of wealth; only the very best of everything furnished this dwelling. She could see that more furniture than was usual crowded the rooms in a clutter of tables, chairs, cabinets and consoles. Paintings of all sizes covered the walls and more, some wrapped in brown paper, were stacked at the sides of the rooms.
Murders in the Blitz Page 23
