‘And…did he? Bring a friend with him?’
‘Oh yes…I went down the road to the pub, like we’d arranged, at half-past eight, ’cause I knew Priscilla would have finished her choir practice by then, but she wasn’t there. Jeff was there – I’ve met him before, so I knew who he was – and his friend, Alec. He introduced us and we had a drink and chatted a bit. But I was worried about Priscilla and so was Jeff.’
‘So…what happened?’ asked Luke. ‘Do you want to tell me?’
‘Jeff went to look for her, but he came back after about twenty minutes and he said he couldn’t find her. He’d been up as far as the church, he said, and walked round the green, but there was no sign of her. So when the pub was closing Jeff and Alec walked home with me, and then they were getting a lift back to the camp…and that’s all I know.’
‘Jeff didn’t go up the little path and into the churchyard?’
‘I don’t know. He didn’t say so. He only said he went as far as the church. You don’t think…? No, it couldn’t be Jeff. He really liked Priscilla… Oh dear; it’s all so awful. I can’t stop crying.’
‘Have you had anything to eat?’ asked Luke, knowing that the policeman had probably disturbed their lunchtime. ‘You really should, you know.’
‘No,’ said Miss Thomson. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t. With that policeman coming we haven’t had time. Jennifer is not usually here at lunchtime and I usually have a little something on a tray. I will make some sandwiches and a cup of tea in a little while.’
‘My sandwiches are still in my bag,’ said Jennifer. ‘I brought them back with me. We can have those, and I’ll make a few more.’ She got up, seeming a little more composed, and smiled sadly at the older woman. ‘You stay and talk to the rector, Miss Thomson, and I’ll go and see to things.’
‘She’s a good girl,’ said Miss Thomson. ‘Well, they both are…were. That poor poor girl! Such a nice well brought up young woman she was, you could see that. She came from Leicester and she’d been a shorthand typist. The policeman said that they would break the news to her parents and that I didn’t need to do anything. And they will make arrangements for her body to be sent back if that is what her parents wish. It is all so dreadful, so impossible to believe. There has never been anything like this in Middlebeck. It used to be such a nice quiet little place.’
‘No,’ agreed Luke, ‘there hasn’t. That is just what my wife said. Now, Miss Thomson, I am going to leave you to have your lunch. Make sure you eat something, and Jennifer as well. And if there is anything at all you want, if you feel in need of a little comfort or support, then Patience and I are only across the green. God bless you…Amelia. You have the strength to cope with this; I know you have.’
‘Maisie has gone up to her bedroom to read for a while,’ said Patience when he returned to the rectory. ‘At least, that is what she told me. She seems a little more composed now, but I think she wants to be on her own. Luke…there is something else that I want to tell you. No, darling…’ She smiled understandingly at him, seeing his alarmed expression. ‘It is not more bad news. In fact, it’s just the opposite. I went to see the doctor this morning – that’s where I had been when I came back to find Inspector Davies here – and, Luke…it is really the most amazing news…’
‘What…?’ He looked at her rapt expression and he could see, behind the sadness in her eyes, another very different look, one of wonder and joy. ‘What is it, darling. You don’t mean… You can’t mean…’
‘Yes, I do,’ she nodded. ‘We are going to have a baby at last. A child of our very own, darling.’
‘Oh, my love, my dearest love…’ He took her in his arms and hugged her so hard she could scarcely breathe. ‘This is incredible. But what a day to find out about it. So much sadness, and then this utter joy. I really…I don’t know what to say.’ He released her from his arms and stood looking at her in amazement. ‘It’s a miracle, my darling; it really is.’
Patience smiled. ‘Maybe… But it was an extra special Christmas, wasn’t it? You remember…?’
‘Of course I do.’ In spite of the horror of recent events they found they were able to smile at one another. ‘Is that when…?’ She nodded. ‘So the baby will be born…late September?’
‘That is what Dr Forrester has estimated,’ replied Patience. ‘He is going to book me into Middlebeck hospital straight away. He says everything should be all right, but…’
‘But you will have to take care; I realise that,’ said Luke. ‘And I shall make sure that you do. But you could certainly do without shocks, especially like the one we have had today.’
‘Yes, that’s true…’ Patience nodded her head, the awfulness of Priscilla’s death coming over her again. ‘I don’t think we will tell the children yet, about the baby, I mean. It might help to take their minds off other things, I know; but I would prefer it to be our secret, just yours and mine, Luke, for a little while.’
‘Yes, I think that would be best,’ agreed Luke. ‘I can’t get over it. We had resigned ourselves to having no children at all, and soon we will have three; four, if we count Maisie. That little girl will always have a special place in our hearts, won’t she, even though she doesn’t belong to us…You have no regrets, have you, darling, about Audrey and Tim, considering what has happened now?’
‘Of course not. I feel – I know – it was the right thing to do. And maybe God has decided to send us a little extra blessing…’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps that is rather fanciful, but I do think that looking after the three of them has made me more…receptive, more ready for motherhood.’
‘You will be a wonderful mother,’ said Luke, kissing her gently. ‘Now, you sit there and have a rest, and I will make us a cup of tea.’
‘No, Luke,’ she said firmly. ‘My pregnancy is not going to be one long round of rests and cups of tea. I will carry on as normal and take a break when I need to. Don’t worry; I will be sensible. I want this child more than anything else in the world, but at the moment it is better that I keep myself occupied. The children have had a terrible shock and we must help them to get through it as best we can. I’m going up to see Maisie now. I don’t want her to be on her own for too long…’
But Maisie did not want to talk. She seemed more composed and was no longer weeping, but Patience was a little disturbed by her unusual quietude. Normally, if Maisie had something on her mind she preferred to talk about it rather than keeping it bottled up inside herself. However, she left her on her own, and when the other two came home from school Maisie came downstairs to join them.
‘Nobody’s said anything at school,’ said Audrey. ‘About Priscilla, I mean. I don’t think anybody knows yet.’
‘And you didn’t even tell Doris?’ asked Maisie.
‘No, of course I didn’t. Why should I?’ said Audrey. ‘Aunty Patience said we hadn’t to tell anybody, so we didn’t, did we, Tim?’ The little boy shook his head solemnly.
‘Is Doris OK?’ persisted Maisie.
‘Yes; why shouldn’t she be?’ replied her friend. ‘She doesn’t know yet. She’ll be upset though, like we are, when she finds out.’
‘I thought her dad might’ve said something to her, about Priscilla not turning up for work. She worked on Mr Nixon’s farm, you know.’
‘I know she did,’ said Audrey, a little impatiently. ‘But she hasn’t said anything. I don’t suppose her dad tells her much about what’s going on on the farm. Why should he? I don’t like him much, Doris’s dad,’ she added. ‘He’s not very friendly…’
‘Now, come along, you two,’ said Patience, determined to steer them away from morbid talk. ‘You can help me to set the table. I think we’ll have boiled eggs for tea, as a special treat. Mrs Nixon let me have six from her market stall, although new laid eggs are becoming quite scarce. And Tim, would you go and tidy your bedroom up a little, please, dear. You’ve left your clothes all over the place.’
‘I’m going across to the schoolhouse to see Charity and Anne,’ Luke told he
r quietly. ‘They will have to be told, and I think it is better coming from me, rather than hearing it as village gossip. And it’s just as well that it’s the weekend as far as the school is concerned.’
In the early evening Luke went into his study to add the finishing touches to his sermon, and to adjust parts of it in view of recent events. It would be a tough one to preach to a traumatised congregation. Some five minutes later he heard a quiet knock at his door.
‘Come in,’ he said, although the other members of his household knew that he should not be disturbed whilst he was working on his sermon.
Maisie’s head appeared round the door. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, in a voice that was almost a whisper. ‘I know you’re working, but I’ve got to tell you something. It’s very important. Please, Luke, can I come in and tell you?’
‘Of course you can, Maisie,’ he replied a little resignedly. He knew he must try to be patient, though, no matter how busy he was. This little girl must be feeling very confused and sad, more so than the other two children, as she had been closer to Priscilla. He guessed that that was what she wanted to talk about. ‘Come along in and sit down, my dear.’
She perched on the edge of the leather chair and looked at Luke steadily across the desk. ‘Luke…’ she began slowly. Then she went on, talking more quickly, ‘I know who did it. I know who it was that killed Priscilla…’
He frowned in puzzlement. ‘Maisie…whatever are you saying, dear? How can you know? What do you mean?’
‘I know you might not believe me, but I know, honest, I do. I heard ’em, the other night, Priscilla and…and Doris’s dad.’
Luke felt himself turn cold. He knew that Maisie was not a fanciful child. She had had a great deal of trauma in her own life and was not one to make things up. He had always found her to be truthful. ‘Maisie…I do believe you,’ he replied. ‘Just tell me exactly what you have heard, or seen. There might be a simple explanation.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m sure it was him. It was last night, see. You remember when I came back from choir practice I told you and Aunty Patience I’d forgotten my gloves? Well, I went back for them, but the door was locked and everybody had gone. And it was then that I heard ’em; on that little path they were, that goes past our back gate. But they didn’t see me. I kept ever so quiet, and then I crept away.’
‘And what did you hear, Maisie?’ Luke asked gently. ‘And how did you know it was Priscilla and…Mr Nixon?’
‘Well, I know Priscilla’s voice, don’t I, and I heard her say, “Leave me alone.” And then the man said something like, “You know you don’t mean it,” and then she said, “Let me go, Walter; what d’you think you’re doing?” So I knew it was him, Mr Nixon. Then he said something about knowing it was what she really wanted an’ that she was acting all prim and proper. I can’t remember exactly…an’ I came away then. I’ve seen him looking at her, though, at choir practices. He sits opposite us an’ he sort of stares at her as though he – I dunno – as though he thinks she’s real pretty. Well, she is…was, I mean…’
The little girl would not know the meaning of the word lust, but Luke could imagine that was the way Walter Nixon had looked at the girl. ‘And you are sure that Mr Nixon didn’t see you?’ he asked. He had no reason at all to doubt the child, and what she was saying was of great significance.
She nodded her head. ‘Quite sure. They were further along the path, but I could hear what they were saying ’cause they were shouting. Well, Priscilla was when she said “Let go!” D’you think it was him that killed her?’
‘I have no idea, Maisie. We mustn’t jump to conclusions. The police are investigating the… matter.’ He did not want to use the word murder, but that was what it was, and it looked very much as though Maisie, unwittingly, might have discovered the culprit. ‘I really think we ought to leave it to them to find out.’
‘You’re not going to say anything, then, to the police?’
‘No…I don’t think so, Maisie. I don’t think it would be right.’ Luke was not a Catholic priest and did not listen to confessions. He was not sure that he agreed with the practice, but he was aware that there were many of that faith who would wish to talk to a priest, knowing that their confidences would go no further. He looked upon Maisie’s disclosure now as confidential. He did not think she would have told anyone else, but he had to make sure.
‘Listen, Maisie…’ he went on. ‘What you have told me, it must remain a confidence – a secret – between you and me. You mustn’t tell anyone else at all, do you understand?’
‘Not even Aunty Patience?’ she asked.
‘No…not even Patience. Your aunt has enough to think about at the moment. And I need to think very carefully about what I should do, and I must say a prayer and ask God to help me as well.’
Maisie was silent, then she said, ‘If they catch…whoever it was that killed Priscilla…would he be hanged, d’you think? I know that’s what happens,’ she added, seeing the look of alarm on Luke’s face. ‘I’m not a little kid, an’…an’ I have heard about it.’
Luke got up from his desk and came and put his arms round Maisie. ‘My dear child, please…please, don’t think about things like that. It does not always happen. Sometimes they go to prison… I have told you; we must leave the solving of this crime to the police.’ He kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘God bless you, and thank you for telling me. You have done the right thing. Now, off you go back to Aunty Patience. You can tell her that you wanted to talk to me because you were feeling sad. And that’s the truth, isn’t it? You’ll feel a lot better now you’ve told me; really you will…’
And now it is my problem, he thought, as the little girl went out of the door. And what an enormous, horrific problem it was. The child’s words about hanging had chilled him to the bone, and yet that was the ultimate punishment for murderers. It was the law of the land, indisputable and unchangeable. But how could he possibly contemplate this happening to one of his own flock, a member of the church choir?
Patience did not question Luke, but he told her that Maisie had been to have a talk with him because she was feeling confused and very sad. She nodded understandingly. All three children had seemed glad to retire to bed that night, rather earlier than usual.
By the next morning Luke had decided what he should do. He would go to Walter Nixon’s farm and see if he could find the man on his own. He would talk to Walter, which would be a perfectly reasonable thing to do in view of what had happened, and see what came out of the conversation. He felt sure that the guidance he was seeking would become clear to him.
He caught sight of the farmer at the far end of a field. He was relieved that he had not needed to call at the farmhouse to enquire of Mrs Nixon about her husband’s whereabouts; it was best to keep his visit confidential at the moment. It was Saturday, though, market day; so she might not be at home in any case.
Mid-March was the start of the lambing season, as Luke knew, having lived in the countryside for so long. As he approached he could see that one of the ewes had not long since given birth. A spindly-legged lamb was tottering around taking its first steps whilst the mother sheep watched it attentively. Walter, too, was looking broodingly at the little scene, his forehead creased in a frown and his mouth set in a grim unsmiling line. On seeing Luke approaching he raised his hand in greeting. His lips moved a fraction in a half-smile, but his blue eyes were wary. He looked worried, but Luke realised he could well be imagining that because of what he knew.
‘Hi there, Luke,’ called Walter. Those who knew the rector well, and others who did not regard him with overdue awe as a ‘man of the cloth’, called him by his Christian name. ‘This ’un’s just given birth. It’s allus an awesome sight watchin’ t’ lamb get to its feet, no matter ’ow many times yer sees it. This little ’un ’ll be reight enough now. I’ll leave it with its ma.’ He walked towards Luke. ‘But I know you’ve not come to talk about lambs and suchlike.’
‘Not really,’ said Lu
ke. ‘I was so sorry to hear the dreadful news about Priscilla. I know she was one of your land girls.’
‘Aye, so she was. It’s a bad do, Luke, it is that. She were a nice lass…and so is Jennifer, the other ’un we’ve got. She’s quieter though, but she’s a good worker. She’s real upset though, is Jennifer, about her friend.’
‘She is sure to be,’ replied Luke, watching Walter Nixon surreptitiously, but very much aware of every nuance in the man’s voice and demeanour. It seemed as though Walter felt he must keep on talking as normally as possible. ‘Have you had a visit from the police?’ Luke asked. ‘I suppose you must have had by now.’
‘Oh aye; they came on Friday afternoon to tell us about finding…Priscilla. We were wondering what had happened to her when she didn’t show up for work, like, and Jennifer had gone home to see if she’d turned up there. I can tell you, Luke, we had the shock of our lives, me and the wife.’
‘Yes…I am sure it must have been a dreadful shock for you…’
‘Anyroad, they asked me when I’d last seen her. They had to do that o’ course; it’s just routine. And I’d seen her the night before, as it happened…’
‘Yes, at the choir practice…’
‘Aye; we left at about the same time, Priscilla and me, and Tommy Allbright an’ all; he were with us. We chatted on t’ path for a while, and then we all went home… An’ that was the last I saw of her, the poor lass.’
Luke nodded. ‘I see… And did Priscilla say where she was going?’
‘No, not as I can remember. She didn’t say owt. But it seems now as though she might’ve been going to meet some feller she’d met, a soldier from Catterick. And…and they’ve taken him in for questioning, or so I believe.’
Luke regarded him steadily. ‘You mean…the police have arrested him?’
‘Well, I don’t know as you’d say arrested, but they certainly want to talk to him.’
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 35
