by Ali Carter
I took it for granted growing up that I’d get married and be a mother one day but now I’m in my thirties and still single, it crosses my mind that I might run out of time to have children and I’m never very sure how this makes me feel.
Out of step with my friends I guess, but then again, I channel a lot of energy into my work and I’d have to compromise this if I were to be a wife and a mother. There’s also the possibility of not being able to conceive. If this were the case I’d tackle it with my belief that whatever challenges life throws at you, you must rise and overcome them. Having children is not the be all and end all for me. If I’m meant to have them I will but if not there will be something else in the mix I’m sure.
So, in short, I answered Toby, ‘If I have children yes, I’d want them, but if I don’t it wouldn’t be the end of the world.’
‘Very diplomatic of you.’
‘I find life’s much easier to comprehend if I believe it’s outside of my control. I think if you start trying to order it, wishing for sunshine, putting words in peoples’ mouths, planning to the nth degree, you end up disappointed if it doesn’t pan out how you envisaged.’ I’d got the bit between my teeth but I just had to finish, ‘We’re all so spoilt for choice now and when we don’t get what we want we immediately blame it on something other than the rich pattern of existence.’
‘That’s all very well but sometimes life can be a real bugger. Look at Hailey. If she hadn’t been staying with Archie for the weekend she might still be alive, that comes down to a simple yes or no to an invitation.’
‘As sad and tragic as her death is I like to think it was outside of her control and that she died young for a reason unbeknown to us.’
‘Jesus Susie, that’s a tough line to take.’
‘I don’t mean it as harshly as it comes across, I just think for our own rationale it helps to believe there’s a heavenly afterlife beyond all of this and some people deserve to get there quicker.’
‘I doubt my mind will ever expand to that depth of comprehension but it’s a nice way of looking at it.’ Toby gave me a gentle admiring smile and switched on the car radio. Upon hearing the poem being recited on air, Toby’s childish grin knocked twenty years off him. Afterwards, he explained that it was ‘Sir Smasham Uppe by E.V. Rieu.’
‘That’s fantastic.’ I loved it. ‘What a great poem.’
‘Isn’t it? I learnt it as a boy, it was my first introduction to porcelain,’ said Toby, relaxing back into the seat as we drove through Canny’s gates.
‘Wine downtime,’ I announced as we got out of the car and Toby made a dash into the house to check on dinner.
The kitchen smelt as delicious as his arms looked when they tensed under the weight of the cast-iron pot he was lifting out of the oven.
‘Yummee!’ I exclaimed. Then, just as I turned to go upstairs, in need of a pee, Lucy’s landline rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Susie dear?’
‘Oh, hi Daniel.’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’
‘No, not at all.’ I looked at Toby. He was staring straight through me, his inscrutable face suggesting he might be a teeny-weeny bit jealous of Daniel’s communication with me.
‘I wanted to thank you for making me confess.’ Daniel sounded full of glee. ‘I’m no longer a key suspect.’
‘That’s great news, I’m so pleased for you.’
‘Have you heard?’ he said.
‘Heard what?’ I asked knowing it was indiscreet of me to be talking down Lucy’s telephone like this, but she wasn’t here so, for the time being, it was safe enough.
‘The investigators found a blond hair on the lampshade in Hailey’s room so that’s narrowed it down to Archie or Primrose apparently.’
‘Archie or Primrose?’ I exclaimed. ‘I’m very surprised they told you that.’
‘Archie told me. He was called to the station on account of his hair colour and as I’m fortunately not blond I’m no longer a key suspect.’
‘I see,’ I said with the thought that Daniel was wasting my time. I had blonde hair and no one had called me in.
‘I tell you Susie, it wasn’t Archie.’
‘You think it was Primrose?’ I retaliated.
‘I like to presume Hailey died of natural causes and that the hair is a false lead, although a most mysterious revelation.’
‘Daniel,’ I said, responsibility having got the better of me, ‘I think I should give you my mobile number for future calls. This telephone belongs to the girl I’m lodging with.’
‘I’m awfully sorry about that. Archie told me where you were staying so I looked up the number in the book. I never presumed you weren’t in your own digs. Not to worry though, I’m leaving Norfolk, off on a trip to Sicily at the end of the week so you won’t be hearing from me again.’
‘Never?’ I said sarcastically.
‘Never say never! But farewell for now.’
He hung up, leaving no time for me to say goodbye or work out why on earth he’d stayed at Fontaburn so long. Blimey, I thought, perhaps Archie and Daniel really are more than just good friends.
‘That’s a hotline to you,’ said Toby as I replaced the receiver.
‘It was Daniel again.’
‘What did he want?’
‘He told me a blond hair had been found on Hailey’s lampshade and therefore Archie and Primrose are now the only key suspects.’
‘And you?’ he said without missing a beat. ‘On account of the hair colour?’
‘It’s absurd.’ I pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. ‘I reckon he just wanted to tell me again that Archie didn’t do it.’
‘I reckon this investigation is going to end up driving you nuts.’
‘But why did Daniel ring me?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Toby rested his hand on my shoulder, ‘I hate to see it having a negative effect on you. Please don’t let Daniel get inside your head, he sounds like a pain.’
I looked up, as nice as Toby’s words were they didn’t stop my mind racing.
‘Maybe Archie was in Hailey’s room and if he was then it must have been Stanley who set off the alarm. But, why?’
‘Come on, let’s have a nice evening and stop this getting the better of you. It’s not your responsibility to solve it.’
I stood up, Toby’s hand withdrew, and I did my very best to reassure him. ‘I’ll stop tying myself in knots and put it out of my mind.’
It was insincere of me to say this as, deep down inside, I knew I had to keep all the clues in the forefront of my mind if I was going to solve Hailey’s murder.
When I scampered upstairs saying ‘I’m just nipping to the loo,’ I had every intention of shutting myself in my bedroom and telephoning Sergeant Ayari.
‘Thanks for calling, Susie,’ came Sergeant Ayari’s mellifluous tone. ‘I’m still in the office and will be for a long time yet.’
‘I thought I should tell you that I spoke to Daniel today.’ I wanted my feigned honesty to strengthen her trust in me.
‘That’s very good of you to ring and tell me.’
‘He told me the investigators found a blond hair on the lampshade in Hailey’s room.’
‘Mr Furr Egrant is absolutely right, but it hasn’t ruled out any individuals thus far.’
‘But I have blonde hair…’ Sergeant Ayari didn’t know me nearly well enough to see through the panic in my voice. It had the desired effect, her discretion was compromised and she reassured me, ‘The hair had Mr Wellingham’s and Mrs Gerald’s DNA on it.’
‘How strange.’
‘Not if Mrs Gerald ruffled Mr Wellingham’s hair at any point over the course of the evening, or vice versa. However, the main focus of our investigation is on the concentration of oxalate in Miss Dune’s system. Only once we get to the heart of this might supplementary information such as a stray hair come into play.’ Sergeant Ayari’s fine manner of outer professionalism and inner friendliness brought our conversation
to a natural end.
I hung up and went to join my wine glass and Toby on the bench outside. He’d kicked off his shoes and his bare feet were tickling Red-Rum’s tummy. It made me happy to see how at ease he was.
‘Don’t you just love an English summer?’ he said. ‘It’s the perfect temperature at this time of night.’
‘Isn’t it?’ I smiled, glad he hadn’t asked why I’d taken my time. ‘Were you born in the West Country?’
‘Yup, so I haven’t moved far.’
‘Well you have no need to move, it’s a beautiful part of the world. I grew up in London but never wanted to settle there.’
‘You say that, but sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out on a change of scene. I dream of quitting my job and moving abroad for a bit.’
‘Oh,’ I said with a shortness of breath. This wasn’t good news for our potential relationship. ‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘Europe maybe or America, I’ve never been there.’
‘Do you speak another language?’
‘Nope so I guess America would be a good option.’
I smiled and my thoughts drifted to a conversation I’d had with Hailey about moving abroad. I still couldn’t believe she’d quit her law training to come to London and find an English husband.
‘American girls love English men,’ said Toby smugly. ‘I’d have a fine time in their country.’
‘You’d have to love them too,’ I joked.
‘Only for a bit, I think I could do that.’
I gave him a reproachful look.
‘You could come too,’ he said.
‘Is that an offer?’
‘It’d be fun. We’d get a Winnebago, you’d bring your paints and I’d drive us across the continent. Think of the wonders we would see.’
‘The Kentucky Derby.’
‘Nashville,’ added Toby.
‘The Bonneville Salt Flats.’
‘Grand Canyon.’
And so it went on, Toby and I travelling across America in our minds…
‘Hoover Dam.’
‘Death Valley.’
‘Golden Gate Bridge!’ we both exclaimed.
‘How could you refuse?’
‘I’m in,’ I said wishing it were true.
‘Oh God!’ Toby jumped up and dashed into the kitchen, Red-Rum scampering after him. ‘Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!’
He reappeared with a wine bottle in his hand and a grubby tea towel over his shoulder. ‘I’ve overcooked the rice. It’s a mushy mess with a burnt bottom.’
I consoled him, ‘It’s too hot for rice anyway,’ and stood up offering to make a green salad instead. As I pushed past him, he didn’t even try to move out of the way. It was as if he wanted our bodies to touch – and the sensation was electrifying. Maybe tonight would be our night…
‘Lucy,’ I called out into the yard. ‘Dinner’s ready.’
She came bounding across the ménage, her youthful figure bouncing in all directions.
‘Thanks Susie, I’m looking forward to a good feast.’
Sure enough, and having guessed already from the tempting smell, Toby had made a pot of slow-cooked pork in a delicious marinade. We ate in the kitchen with the door open and the sound of birds rejoicing at the length of the days.
‘How was the museum?’ asked Lucy.
‘You didn’t miss much,’ said Toby. ‘Some lovely porcelain and a lot of dusky old photographs.’
‘Susie’s fair treating you,’ said Lucy facetiously. ‘There’s way more interesting places than that around here.’
It annoyed me to be put down in front of Toby, but when he replied ‘We’ll just have to come back and visit you again,’ I was thrilled he’d coupled us together as a pair.
‘Are you off then?’ asked Lucy. My heart sunk. I’d told Toby I was leaving on Thursday but hadn’t actually asked him when he planned to go and I was still under the illusion that these happy days were going to go on and on.
‘If it’s okay, I thought I’d leave on Thursday like Susie.’
‘No problem,’ said Lucy looking as happy as I felt.
‘You really don’t mind if we stay till then? I’ve actually finished working with the horses but I’d love a free day to get my stuff together and have a breather before heading back to the grindstone.’
I didn’t want to take advantage of Lucy’s hospitality but I knew if I could just stay another twenty-four hours I’d have a much better chance of getting to the bottom of Hailey’s death. Other than Charlotte no one in the house party had known Hailey long enough to pre-plan her murder, and Charlotte’s emotional response was either exceptional acting or as genuine as I believed it to be. The whole thing had a whiff of improvisation to it and I felt confident that if I could buy a little more time to identify the motive I’d uncover the truth.
‘Please stay till Thursday,’ smiled Lucy. ‘I’m not ready to be on my own again. I’m going to miss your company.’
‘If Aidan wants me to drop off the drawings in person I’ll be back again relatively soon.’
Lucy had her mouth full but it didn’t stop her from talking, ‘I hope he does, it’d be nice to see you again Susie.’
‘Well, as a thank-you for having me and Toby to stay, please can I cook dinner tomorrow night?’
‘You two are spoiling me. Never eaten so well in my life. Kitchen’s all yours if you mean it.’
‘Great, I’ll do us all a celebratory feast.’
Lucy asked if I’d mind making something with the lump of beef she had in the freezer.
‘Martin, the farmer across the way, gave it me and I’ve no idea what to do with it.’
‘That was generous of him,’ said Toby, and Lucy blushed for the first time ever.
When she explained, ‘It was a nice try on his part, but he’s got a wife,’ I was pleased to hear she drew the line somewhere.
After dinner, I was first to bed and I was wearing the green willow. Once again Toby and Lucy had hit it off. She had that youthful ability to flirt outrageously no matter what the consequences and Toby (understandably) was enjoying every bit of it.
I’d tried my very best to laugh along and join in, but, in truth, the opportunity to go to bed without making it a ‘thing’ couldn’t come quickly enough.
It was at last, when Toby offered us both another glass of whisky and Lucy jumped at the offer, that I apologised with ‘I’m so sorry to be such a party pooper but I’m exhausted,’ and said an early goodnight to them both.
I collapsed onto my bed with my telephone in my hands. I had three missed calls from Mum. A clear sign she was longing for a gossip rather than needing to speak to me urgently. If it was the latter she would have left a message, I knew that much. I didn’t want to but I had to ring her. It was unfair not to report back on how my night at Fontaburn Hall had gone.
‘Hi Mum.’
‘Susie, darling.’ She was already out of character. Usually I was poppet or sweetie, none of this Darling with a capital D. ‘Hang on a sec, I’m just going to go downstairs, don’t want to wake your father.’
‘I can call in the morning,’ I suggested but she’d hung up the receiver (wireless telephones are not something my parents are aware of).
‘Susie? Susie? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, Mum, sorry to call late, I’ve been very busy.’
‘HOW was the weekend? I’ve been LONGING to hear? I do hope you wore the necklace I sent you? You are naughty not to have given me a buzz.’
Mum had that maternal knack of going straight from slumber to fully alert. No intermediate waking-up period. A trait instilled in women after their first-born.
‘I enjoyed myself,’ I said as I twiddled a stray thread from the duvet.
‘Did you poppet? I’m so pleased. Were there lots of others staying? Any nice young men?’
‘None my type but all very nice.’ I listed the guests, each one prompting an interjection from Mum.
‘How nice for you there was an American girl amo
ngst them. They’re so good at breaking up a stuffy atmosphere. I hear Archibald has a lot going for him.’
‘He lives in a beautiful house.’
‘Yes, I got Silvia,’ (Silvia’s my mother’s young cleaner) ‘to pull up a picture on the Google, absolutely beautiful house I agree but it’s not the family seat, now that’s quite something.’
‘Yes, Mum. I see you’ve done your research.’
To give Mum her due she was as good at being teased as she was at admitting her own flaws.
‘Susie,’ she said. ‘I do like to live vicariously through you. It’s natural; you’ll be just the same when you have children of your own.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, hoping not.
‘When will we be seeing you next?’
This was my mother’s subtle way of saying it had been some time since my last visit.
‘I was thinking I could come up for the day and stay the night next Sunday?’ I did want to see them but I also thought if I was there for the night it would be a good opportunity to ask her in person why I was an only child.
‘This Sunday would be better.’
My parents rarely have plans and if they do they are hardly ever made over a week in advance. This Sunday, I knew, was better only because it was sooner.
‘I have Mel staying this weekend.’
Mum liked Mel. Mel had married young, a banker with good looks and good connections, and Mum continued to hope her life would rub off on mine.
‘Next Sunday it is,’ she said sounding happy. ‘We can eat in the garden; it’s been wonderful weather here. I hope the drawings are going well? It’s a big commission this one, isn’t it?’
Mum had asked after my work! Maybe after fifteen years she’s finally come around to the fact I would always be and only ever wanted to be an artist.
‘Yes, I have six horses to draw, it’s been tough but I’ve finally got enough material.’
‘Horses, that’s a new one for you,’ said Mum, making me sad she had no recollection that I’d talked her through the struggle of horses before.
‘Clever girl. Sleep well.’
