by Nicola Upson
‘No, I’ll give him that. He genuinely wanted what was best for Elspeth, and he put that before his hatred for Vintner. Arthur was gone and his mother wasn’t able to raise a child on her own – and he knew how much we loved her. She was happy with Walter and me, you know, in spite of everything. So Aubrey sent the money and the notes, but there was no more pressure than that. He had a deadly patience, Walter once said. In the end, they came to a sort of unspoken agreement: Aubrey wouldn’t disrupt Elspeth’s childhood by raking up the past before she was old enough to deal with it; and Walter would tell the truth about what happened when he felt the time was right. I don’t suppose he thought it would be on his deathbed, but that’s how it worked out.’
‘So Aubrey got what he wanted?’
‘Yes. Walter wrote it all down – it was one of the last things he did. He was so ill by then that I had to help him with it; perhaps that’s why he told me, but I prefer to think he did that because he 226
wanted to. Aubrey came to collect it, and he spoke to Walter. I don’t know what he said but afterwards it seemed that Walter was happy to die. Like he’d found some peace.’
The existence of such a document could well explain why someone had been willing to take the risk of entering Aubrey’s office on the night of his death, Penrose thought; its removal was vital to anyone wanting to protect Vintner’s reputation. He wondered how Josephine’s ordeal fitted into the pattern of events. ‘When did Walter die, Mrs Simmons?’ he asked.
‘In September last year. It was just after that trial, and of course Vintner committed suicide shortly after that. Everyone assumed it was because he lost in court, but it wasn’t that – it was something far deeper. He knew by then that he’d soon be back in the dock.
Vintner was stupid to bring that case with Aubrey on the other side, but he thought he was invincible. It was another way to taunt Aubrey for the past, but it backfired on him. He lost, and Aubrey took the opportunity to make it clear that it was only a matter of time before he’d lose far more. Vintner had no idea that Walter and Aubrey had been in contact, you see, but by then it was too late for him to do anything about it – Walter was beyond threats and Aubrey implied that the police had already been told.
So Vintner took the coward’s way out, but it was Aubrey’s taunt-ing that drove him to it.’
So Vintner had simply been using Josephine to get at Aubrey. All the anguish, all the remorse she had suffered after Vintner’s suicide was because she had been caught up in a deadly game between two men. No wonder Aubrey had been so loyal in his support for Josephine, but how could he have allowed her to assume responsibility for someone’s death when the blood was anywhere but on her hands? Penrose had watched as all the joy had been stripped from Josephine’s success. He had sat with her for hours, trying to convince her that she was not to blame for Vintner’s decision to take his own life – but nobody could tell you that you weren’t responsible for someone’s death; you had to feel it in your heart. If anyone understood that, he did.
‘I kidded myself that Vintner’s suicide would be the end of it,’
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Alice Simmons continued, ‘but of course it wasn’t. Death wasn’t enough for Aubrey – at least not if it came at a time of Vintner’s choosing. Aubrey wanted his name linked to what he’d done, to expose him as a murderer rather than as some sort of broken man who deserved pity. His plan was to bring everything out in the open as soon as Elspeth turned eighteen. He’d put all the money from Richard of Bordeaux in a trust fund for her – I suppose he thought that was some sort of justice with all the trouble that had gone on. She would have come of age next month, but someone was obviously determined that should never happen.’
‘Was there anyone else involved in Arthur’s murder?’
‘No, just Walter and Vintner. No one else knew until Aubrey found out.’
So who on his list could have been close to Vintner? Who would kill to protect his name? In a book, this was the moment when a striking resemblance would suddenly spring to mind, Penrose thought drily, but he would have to do it the hard way, and his heart sank at the thought of tracing endless family trees. Was that why the number for Somerset House was on Aubrey’s blotter, he wondered? Had Aubrey been trying to make the link himself before he died? And had he been successful? At least those questions might be answered in the morning when everyone got back to work after the weekend. In the meantime, he must talk to Josephine to see if she had learned anything about Vintner during the trial. And, just as importantly, to give her some sort of freedom from her unwarranted guilt.
Alice Simmons seemed to read his thoughts. ‘Betty told me about Miss Tey and her kindness to Elspeth,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry she went through what she did because of Vintner. I know there’s no consolation for that, but it will have meant so much to Elspeth to have met her – she so loved her work. Will you tell her that for me?’
Penrose smiled kindly at her. ‘It would be nice if you told her yourself – she’ll want to meet you and talk. And knowing Josephine, that’s exactly what will console her for what she went through.’
‘I’d like to see her. You know, Elspeth always thought I hated the-228
atre but I didn’t. I was just afraid of it. It hurt me so much not to be able to share that with her but I was so scared of her being pulled into another life, one that I couldn’t compete with. I wonder if all women who adopt worry about their happiness being snatched from them, or if it was just because we didn’t do it properly? It was even worse after Walter died and I had to face it on my own, and when Aubrey told me about the trust fund I knew things would never be the same. It would have made her so happy, to be welcomed like that into a world she loved but could only dream of. It’s right that she should have had that chance, but I’d be lying if I said I was glad about it. I thought she’d forget about me, and the love we had was the one thing that made what Walter did bearable. If that went, everything would have been in vain. So much loss and pain and evil, all for nothing.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I knew I’d lose her eventually, but I never expected it to happen like this. I suppose you have to believe in some kind of judgement, though, don’t you?’
‘I don’t think judgement is something we’re entitled to pass, Mrs Simmons,’ Penrose said softly, ‘either on other people or on ourselves. It’s too big a word. But if it helps, I don’t think there’s anything to regret in loving Elspeth or wanting to protect her. I know you feel that Walter did what he did for you, but it was his decision.’
She met his eyes, and Penrose could all but trace every moment of the last forty-eight hours in the lines on her face. ‘That’s kind, Inspector,’ she said. ‘The trouble is, if it meant missing out on those years with Elspeth, I wouldn’t give that boy his life back even if I could, and that is something I’ll be judged for when the time comes.’
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Fourteen
Peace was an infrequent visitor to 66 St Martin’s Lane, but one which Josephine welcomed with open arms whenever it arrived; on a Sunday afternoon, when there was so much for her to think about, it was more eagerly greeted than ever. She looked at her watch, reckoning to have half an hour or so of solitude before she was disturbed – time to collect her thoughts and bring some sort of order to the studio’s chaos. The doorbell rang before she had made much headway with either.
‘Archie! What a nice surprise! I thought you were Marta.’
‘Oh God, are you expecting the redoubtable Miss Fox?’ he asked, feigning a look of horror. ‘Perhaps I should have brought Bill for back-up after all.’
She laughed, and kissed him. ‘I’m afraid she is imminent. I telephoned them earlier to see how things were after last night, but Lydia was out. Marta sounded so down that I found myself asking her over for tea. They’re having problems, I think, and she said she needed to talk.’
‘Do you actually like her? Or is this just support for Lydia through another romantic crisis?’
Amused by his cynicism, Josephine led him thr
ough to the studio.
‘Don’t sound so weary about it. Lydia can’t help being a little . . .’
‘Flighty?’ he suggested provokingly as she paused to find the right word.
‘Unsettled,’ she countered, smiling. ‘And yes, I do like Marta –
very much, in fact. I hope they’ll work it out, but it would take a remarkable woman to be happy to play second fiddle to Lydia’s career. Marta may prove to be remarkable, of course, as well as 231
redoubtable – we’ll see. But don’t worry – if she turns up while you’re still here, I’ll look after you. Not that you need protecting –
that parting shot you delivered last night was chastening to the point of humiliation. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble.’
She gave up trying to find an uncluttered space on the room’s incongruous collection of chairs. ‘Let’s sit on the floor, but I’ll get you some coffee first. You look shattered.’
‘No, don’t bother. I need to talk to you and it sounds like we haven’t got much time on our own. You are on your own? There’s no one lurking in the kitchen?’
‘No, the girls have gone out to lunch with George and the Snipe is with her maker – in the temporary sense, I mean. You know how it is on a Sunday.’
‘Of course.’ Archie laughed but only half-heartedly, and Josephine had an ominous sense of déjà vu. What was he going to tell her now? Surely there was no room left this weekend for yet more tragedy? ‘Is this about Hedley White?’ she asked. ‘I gather you’ve caught up with him.’ Archie raised an eyebrow questioningly, so she explained. ‘That’s where Marta said Lydia had gone –
to the Yard, to see if you’ll let her see him. You must have just missed her. Apparently she’s worried about him. Are you as convinced as she is that he’s done nothing wrong?’
‘I certainly don’t think he’s killed anybody,’ Archie said. ‘I’m fairly sure he’s lying about where he was when Elspeth died and, if so, he’s persuaded Rafe Swinburne to give him an alibi, but I don’t honestly believe there’s anything sinister in that. He wouldn’t be the first suspect to assume things would look better for him if he could prove he wasn’t on his own. We’re doing the usual tests but I don’t think he’s got anything to fear from the results.’ He told her how upset White had seemed at the news of Aubrey’s death, and added, ‘His troubles won’t go away just because we think he’s innocent, so I’m pleased Lydia’s supporting him. He’ll need help to get him through losing two people he loved. But Hedley’s not why I’m here – things have moved on since I spoke to him. I got your message about the iris. Was the reference to the flower of chivalry in Vintner’s book, by any chance?’
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‘Yes it was,’ she said, surprised. ‘I started to read Marta’s manuscript this morning and it reminded me of Vintner’s novel – not the story, that’s modern and completely different – but the style. I know she admired his first book. But how on earth did you guess?’
‘Because he’s raising his ugly head in the unlikeliest of places, and judging by what I’ve heard about him in the last couple of hours, irises would have been on his mind when he sat down to write The White Heart. Chivalry, on the other hand, wouldn’t be something he was qualified to talk about.’ He noticed that her face had clouded over as it always did when Vintner’s name was mentioned, and the anger he had felt since speaking to Alice Simmons was only partly tempered by the knowledge that he could now dispel Josephine’s guilt once and for all. ‘I need you to listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you, and to believe me,’ he said. ‘You are not responsible for Elliott Vintner’s death.’
‘It doesn’t help to keep going over this, Archie,’ she said dismis-sively, and started to get up. ‘You and I will always disagree about it and it just makes it worse for me if . . .’
He caught her arm and gently turned her face towards him. ‘But this time it’s not just my voice. Would you believe it from someone who knew Vintner? Someone who would swear that his suicide was down to something that happened years ago, long before you ever wrote a play or heard his name?’
Josephine looked at him, confused by his words and hardly daring to acknowledge that they hinted at a reprieve for her. ‘But he left a note explaining why he did it,’ she said. ‘It was read out at the inquest. He claimed that losing the court case had ruined him, financially and emotionally, and the papers went to town on it because he blamed me for everything.’ Contrary to the advice of all her friends, Archie included, Josephine had attended Vintner’s inquest, determined to face her demons. Not even in her worst nightmares could she have predicted how unpleasant it would be, though, and she would never forget the anger she had felt when she first heard the contents of that suicide note. Sitting in a swel-tering court room, flanked by Ronnie and Lettice who had insisted on going with her, she had listened as the last words of a dead man 233
accused her of stealing his work, and the law of sanctioning her theft. What frustrated her most, however, was not the smug, self-righteous tone or the unfairness of the charge but the irrational sense of shame which overwhelmed her then and which had dogged her ever since. Afterwards, despite numerous requests from journalists and several newspaper stories which painted her as the villain of the piece, she had adamantly refused to speak out in her own defence, partly from a determination to guard her privacy but mostly from a fear that she would not be very convincing. ‘It was a masterly piece of prose, that note,’ she added bitterly now. ‘Much more affecting than most of his books. He even asked for God’s forgiveness on my behalf. He could afford to be benev-olent, I suppose, because I’m sure he knew I’d never forgive myself.’
‘Exactly. I’m not saying that Vintner didn’t resent you. He was a spiteful bastard and I’m sure he took a great deal of pleasure in knowing he could go on hurting you long after he was dead, but that isn’t why he killed himself. It was a smokescreen, Josephine.
You were caught up in a deadly game between two powerful men and it was convenient for them both to use you, one more mali-ciously than the other.’ He paused to make sure she was taking in what he was saying. ‘You see, if Vintner had given the real reason for deciding to take his own life, it would have been a confession to murder.’
She listened, at first incredulous and then shocked, as Archie outlined the connection between Elliott Vintner and Bernard Aubrey. He had not got far before her relief was dispelled by an immense sadness. She had thought nothing could be worse than the burden of responsibility which she carried, but she had reckoned without an act of pure evil that had cut so many lives short and filled others with pain and loss. Now, who could say when this new nightmare would be over? Several minutes passed before she was aware that Archie had stopped talking and was waiting for her response. The truth had been his gift to her, she knew, and he wanted her to be comforted by it, but all she felt was grief – grief for those who had died so suddenly and for the horror which she 234
felt sure was still to come, and a deeper, less tangible sorrow for the fundamental cruelty of the world.
‘Are you all right?’ Archie asked gently.
‘Yes and no,’ she said. ‘I will be, but all I can think about now is how sorry I feel for Elspeth. I keep remembering something she said about hoping her real family had some theatrical blood in it.
Never in her wildest dreams could she have hoped to be related to the father of the West End. She would have been so thrilled, and yet it’s the very reason she’s dead.’
‘Aubrey set up a trust fund for her from the profits of Richard of Bordeaux, you know.’
‘That makes sense. Lydia said he’d given money to a charity to help families who’d suffered losses in the war. Funny, isn’t it, how something that’s broadly true can hide so much.’
‘Yes. In this case, the charity really did begin at home. Elspeth would have come into the money next month when she turned eighteen – and he planned to tell her everything then, as well. Alice Simmons was terrified of the effe
ct it would have on their relationship. She thought she was going to lose the only thing that mattered to her.’
‘I can understand that. It’s so hard for anyone on the outside to know how families work, but Elspeth didn’t strike me as a girl who’d forget love. There’s no doubt she would have embraced a connection to something she was so passionate about, but not at the expense of the life she already had. If anything, knowing where she came from might have settled her and satisfied the restless curiosity that Betty spoke about.’ She sighed heavily. ‘It hardly feels right to sit here speculating over lives we didn’t understand and people we didn’t know when there’s no future left for any of them. Elspeth didn’t make it to eighteen, for God’s sake, and I can’t even begin to contemplate what hell Alice Simmons is going through. In all of this, I think it’s her I feel for most. What a burden that must be to carry. Confession is a very selfish thing, it seems to me. I’m sure Walter felt much better afterwards, but I can’t help thinking it would have been kinder of him to take his secret to the grave rather than pass the guilt on to his wife.’
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‘That’s all very well, but are you honestly telling me that if you were in her position you’d rather not be told the truth?’
There was an urgency in his words and Josephine understood that he was asking two questions, only one of which was about Alice Simmons. She thought before answering, realising what was at stake, and said eventually, ‘You’re right, of course. I would have wanted to know – when the time was right. But I’d rather not have had to wait until one of us was on our deathbed.’ Archie had walked over to the window now, and she had no way of knowing if he realised the significance of what she was saying. When he did not speak, she continued, but on safer ground. ‘I wonder what happened to Elspeth’s real mother? Or how much she knew about what happened to Arthur?’
