Shroud of Silence

by Nancy Buckingham

  The choice of puppies was bewildering. We saw black Labradors and tiny King Charles spaniels; a matching pair of Dalmatians and poodles of every colour. But Jane was in no doubt at all. She pointed to a quick-eyed urchin of a terrier, white with blobs of black and brown, and ears flopping in every perky direction. He splayed his front legs wide and angled his head at us.

  “I want that one,” she announced clearly.

  “But he’s no good,” said the kennel man. He lifted the ecstatic lump and held him up for us to see. “Bit of a mistake, this one. No breeding at all, if you know what I mean.”

  “B-b-b-but I w-w-w-want him,” Jane persisted weakly. Now she was stammering badly, imagining the adult ranks closing against her.

  A show of support was needed. I took the puppy from the man’s hands and passed it over to Jane.

  “Careful with him, darling. Remember he’s only a baby.”

  She cradled the dog as if it were made of fragile glass. He snuggled his chin against her shoulder, his ears pinned back in sharp delight.

  I laughed. “He looks like a little badger.”

  “Badger,” said Jane without hesitation. “Hello, Badger.”

  Drew was smiling too. “How much?” he enquired, taking out his wallet.

  “I can’t ask more than a few pounds for that little runt,” the man muttered, disgruntled at being deprived of a more profitable sale.

  Jane was in seventh heaven. Going home she wouldn’t sit up with us in the front of the Land Rover, but climbed into the back and settled on a rug, hugging her new treasure. We could hear her crooning baby talk to it.

  Drew turned to me and smiled cheerfully. “Who would have believed it? I’ve never seen her so ... so natural before.”

  All at once the job I’d taken on seemed that much less difficult. My mind ran away with happily confident plans about the next few steps.

  “What were you doing in the newspaper office this morning, Kim?”

  Drew’s question rocked me with its sheer unexpectedness, and I gaped at him.

  So he’d seen me coming out. I had no evasive story ready-made, and for the moment I was as tongue-tied as Jane could ever be.

  He apologized quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  On an impulse I decided to grab this chance of some straight talking. Jane was safely oblivious, lost in a doggy daze.

  “As a matter of fact I went there to look up the report of the inquest on Brian Hearne’s death,” I. said bluntly, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to meet Drew’s eye.

  His voice had gone down twenty degrees. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Miserably, I said, “You see, I thought it might help me to understand. I can’t help feeling that there’s some connection between his death and … and the reason for my being here.”

  “But that’s not possible,” Drew snapped. He was silent for pretty well a full minute, and then he said slowly and carefully, “You mean you think it was the shock about Brian that caused the trouble?”

  “Oh, I don’t mean directly. She was far too young for that sort of effect, I’m sure.”

  “Then what?”

  Throwing a cautious ear back to Jane and the puppy, I heard mock growls and gleeful giggles. Clearly, she had no attention to spare for us.

  I took a deep breath. “I feel there must be a tie-up somewhere. Ever since his name was first mentioned by Felix, I’ve been aware of an extraordinary tension at Mildenhall. You all avoid the subject like the plague. Such a strength of bitter feeling is bound to react badly on a child.”

  He came back at me scornfully. “Would you expect us to make a tragedy like that a matter of everyday chitchat? Of course we avoid talking about it, if only for his mother’s sake.”

  “But it happened two years ago,” I protested, sticking grimly to my guns. “Surely by now you should be able to mention him without such emotional tension.”

  Drew’s handling of the Land Rover seemed to be slipping. Twice he brushed the grass verge as we took bends in the lane. At last he spoke again.

  “What you say might be true in ordinary circumstances. But you must have seen that my Aunt Tansy is not altogether ...”

  “And is that the only reason you all act as you do?”

  Again I had to wait for an answer.

  “What other reason could there be?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Barrington. I don’t know.” To myself, I added, But I’ll find out, you can be sure of that.

  From then on the atmosphere between us was hideous. He dropped Jane and me at the front door of Mildenhall, and drove straight on down to the trout farm.

  But by evening he’d had second thoughts. He caught me alone in the hall sometime before dinner, and delivered a carefully measured half-apology.

  “I’m sorry to have been so abrupt this afternoon, Miss Bennett. But I do assure you that you’re on the wrong tack.”

  Despite his return to formality, I managed to break down my set expression into a sort of smile.

  “I’m sorry if you think I’ve been interfering too much. I hope you understand that I’m only trying to do my job. Before I can really do much to help Jane, I’ve got to pin down the fundamental cause of her trouble.”

  I don’t know what he might have said to that. Felix’s voice broke in on us as he came running lightly down the stairs.

  “What are you two up to? Whispering sweet nothings?”

  Drew flushed with annoyance and walked away. I felt like doing the same, but somehow I thought that would be conceding too easy a victory to Felix. Instead, I said stiffly, “I’m afraid I don’t appreciate your rather peculiar sense of humor.”

  My reproof did nothing to alter his smile. “Go easy, Kim. Don’t be like that.”

  “You can hardly expect ...”

  He clipped in, softly, “Maybe I act this way because I’m jealous. Have you thought of that angle, my sweet?”

  “Oh, don’t be absurd.”

  But all the same I could understand how successful he must be with women. If I hadn’t witnessed his baiting tactics, cruelly stirring up trouble within the family, maybe I’d have softened towards him just a bit. After all, flattery must get a man somewhere with any woman, unless she’s fully case-hardened to resist it.

  He was giving me the treatment now. His smile slowly faded, replaced by a tentative brushing of the soulful.

  “You’re a very attractive girl, Kim. But you must have been told that often enough.”

  I adjusted my armor. “Let’s get this straight, Felix. There’s nothing doing. Absolutely nothing. I’m here on a job.”

  “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

  “Maybe. But that’s how it’s going to be.”

  His grin came back, a glint of malice underneath. “It must be nice to be wanted.”

  So my crack back at him still rankled. He’d deserved a slap down on that occasion, but had I been a mite too savage?

  “You did leave yourself wide open,” I muttered.

  He sensed my part-way remorse, and he wasn’t having any of that.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” he said, his grin quite gone. “I can look after myself.”

  And that was how we left things between us—an armed truce. We both had reserved the right to use our weapons if the need arose.

  * * * *

  Corinne arrived home in great commotion just before dinner. Her new hairdo looked terrific. I reckoned she’d had a facial, too—the whole works, in fact.

  At the table she hogged the conversation with an account of her shopping spree in London. It was angled so as to rouse green-eyed envy in Verity—and no doubt in me too, as a bonus.

  “Such a gorgeous suit, and only ninety-five guineas. And there were two dresses I simply couldn’t choose between—an aquamarine and a crushed pink.” She gave a pretty laugh. “In the end I decided to take them both.”

  As usual, Drew appeared to
ignore his wife completely. I wondered if he paid her extravagant bills with the same stony indifference.

  Tansy came napping in with a dish of vegetables,

  “Have you seen the darling little puppy Drew has bought for Jane?” she inquired chirpily.

  Here was another of my suppressed worries bobbing up to the surface. I’d been thinking since the deed was done that perhaps Drew had made a big mistake in not consulting his wife before rushing to buy Jane a dog.

  “It was Kim’s idea,” Tansy rippled on brightly. “So clever of her, don’t you think?”

  Corinne’s face was coldly blank. I guessed she was preparing a few barbed words on the subject.

  Felix helpfully egged her on. “So that’s what Drew and Kim were being so cosy about just now out in the hall.” He stretched mocking eyes at his two sisters. “Honestly, you should have seen them. The way they had their heads together.”

  “Don’t be a damn fool, Felix,” said Drew sharply.

  Corinne decided after all to control her fury. “Of course,” she announced, her voice only a mere shade too loud for perfect calmness, “the dog will have to be got rid of immediately. We can’t possibly keep it.”

  Drew looked at her without raising his head.

  “The dog will not be your responsibility, Corinne,” he said levelly. “No one expects you to take any part in looking after it.”

  “But Jane is my daughter ...”

  “And mine. Miss Bennett says the puppy will do Jane good, and I agree with her. I should have thought of it before. There was always a dog at Mildenhall when I was a child.”

  If I’d had any doubt left about Corinne’s raging hostility, it disappeared now. I think that she could have killed me. She didn’t say another word throughout the meal, and that worried me more than any verbal attack. Bottled up, her venom was even deadlier. She might end up by striking wildly.

  During the next couple of days I called in every bit of diplomatic talent I possessed. I was determined to succeed with this job I’d taken on, whatever the odds piled up against me. I think I worked harder on Corinne than on Jane herself, doggedly asking for her approval of every step I took.

  I felt I was making a small but measurable progress. Immediately after lunch Jane and I—and naturally the puppy too—would go up to her playroom. We got along fine together as long as we weren’t interrupted. For the moment the great thing was to get her to like me. To trust me.

  The puppy was a godsend. I wasn’t one to go goofy about dogs, but I couldn’t resist this soft bundle of wriggling, tail-thumping fur. Jane adored Badger. I encouraged her to play with him all she wanted. And in between I’d slip in a bit of play-work. Or work-play. Jane couldn’t read yet, but she liked to pretend she could. We went through her story books over and over, and as with all stammerers the repetition made it easier. By maybe the fifth time round she was “reading” with hardly a fluff.

  Poor Tansy fretted when we were shut up together and would break in on us with the flimsiest of excuses. She’d wonder if we would like something to drink. Or whether Jane was warm enough without her cardigan. Tansy loved Jane, I knew. But over-protection never did a stammerer any good. Somehow I had to strike a clear chord of reason in the jangle of Tansy’s mind.

  I got Jane singing whenever I could, both in chorus with me and on her own. The phenomenally free flow of words was still a thrilling new experience for her.

  One time we were going through a part song when Corinne burst in abruptly.

  “What on earth was all that noise? I thought you were supposed to be working.”

  Jane’s thin little body went rigid.

  I smiled at her gently, and tried hard to include Corinne in the warmth.

  “Jane sings very nicely, doesn’t she? And she picks up new songs so quickly.” In a quiet aside, I added, “It’s considered to be an excellent form of therapy.”

  Her look was calculated to wither me.

  “I should have thought I was in a better position than you to judge my daughter’s voice, Miss Bennett, She was hopelessly off-key.” She swung round on Jane. “Now listen! This is how it goes!

  London’s burning. London’s burning,

  Fetch the engine, fetch the engine ...”

  She sang it through to the end at full volume, a concert performance.

  The terrified Jane was made to try it for herself. She gagged hopelessly at the first burning, and gulped into silence.

  Corinne was triumphant. “It doesn’t look as if your ‘excellent therapy’ has achieved much, Miss Bennett.”

  I could have felt triumphant too, at the way I held on to my patience.

  “Mrs. Barrington, I noticed a tape recorder downstairs. I wonder if I might borrow it. I’d like you to be able to hear some of the things Jane and I are doing together.”

  She shrugged carelessly. “It belongs to my husband. If he’s fool enough to let you play about with valuable equipment, and it gets broken, that’s his funeral.”

  She was scanning the room for something new to pick on. Badger was curled up fast asleep in a patch of sunlight.

  “Just you see that dog doesn’t make a mess on the carpet,” she warned.

  Jane fought off terror in defense of her pet. “B-b-but B-B-Badger wouldn’t...”

  “He’d better not, or there’ll really be trouble.” On this unmotherly note Corinne made her exit.

  I asked Drew about the tape recorder later. H« agreed at once. But all the same I had an idea he was feeling new doubts about the wisdom of having me at Mildenhall. Sometimes, across the room, I would catch his pensive eyes, gray eyes whose depths I couldn’t fathom. And always his gaze would be swiftly withdrawn.

  On Wednesday evening there were people to dinner, two married couples and an unattached girl called Rona. They were Corinne’s friends, every one of them as hard and brittle as she was. It was obvious that Drew scarcely knew them, and didn’t want to- know them, either. As soon as the meal was over he slipped quietly away in the direction of his study.

  Tansy, too, faded gently out of sight. I guessed she had a standing evening date with Miss Pink and the television.

  The visitors were properly insistent that Corinne should sing for them, and the party headed for the music room, I hung back, glad enough to see them go. But Felix wasn’t having any. I might have been fooled by his persuasive charm if I hadn’t guessed what he was up to. All evening he’d been piling it on, and the girl Rona could hardly keep her jealous eyes off him. For that matter, neither could the two wives. Felix clearly worked on women in devious ways.

  If I pointedly spurned an invitation to hear Corinne sing, it would only drive her to fresh fury against me. So reluctantly I went along with them.

  Accompanying herself at the piano, Corinne whacked out a selection of big-time stuff. She’d just finished singing “I Could Have Danced All Night” when Bill Wayne’s head slid diffidently around the door.

  “Mrs. Hearne told me to come on in.”

  From the sofa Felix waved a wide arm. “Hi there, friend and neighbor. Get some booze and perch yourself—that is, if you can stand Corinne’s yodeling.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Bill grinned, “it’s Kim I’m after.” He looked across at me. “I was wondering if you’d like to come out for a drive around?”

  “You’d better watch out, Kim,” Felix shoved in. “He’s a lousy one-armed driver.”

  Corinne had so far ignored Bill completely. Now, ready for her next song, she said to him aggressively, “Well—are you going or staying?”

  “No, I’m not staying, Corinne. I’ve only come to collect Kim.”

  She smiled falsely at me and her silvery laugh trilled higher than her singing voice.

  “I didn’t know you’d already found a ... a follower, Miss Bennett.”

  Still not broken into Corinne’s complete bitchiness, I couldn’t check a flush.

  But Bill just laughed. His words pointed, his eyes hammering them in, he remarked, “Unlike some peopl
e I know, Kim wasn’t even on the lookout for one.”

  I just couldn’t have stayed after that if I’d wanted to. Discretion told me to clear out of the room, and fast. Corinne’s slit-closed green eyes sped me on my way.

  It was a warm evening and I didn’t need to stop to get a coat. As we walked straight out, Bill was chuckling.

  “‘Hell hath no fury…”

  What was he suggesting? Could it be that Corinne had once given him the come-hither and got a slap-down for her trouble? That would have maddened her, all right. With her looks, her figure, her terrific dress-flair, she wouldn’t expect any man not to come to heel when she whistled.

  Corinne was plainly on very bad terms with Drew. I’d not heard a single civil word pass between them. Even so, would she really dare to try playing around right on her own doorstep? Or was Bill Wayne just talking big for effect?

  Bill opened the car door. His hand on my arm as he helped me in was more intimate than courteous. Jumping in himself he started off and swung down the drive towards the trout farm.

  “You don’t mind if I stop for a minute? I’ve just remembered something I wanted to check at one of the ponds.”

  We pulled up close to the packing shed, and Bill hopped out. “I’ll have to put the lights on,” he said as he disappeared inside. A moment later overhead lights came on, a dozen or more, floodlighting the whole place.

  Bill came hurrying out and headed for the water. Then he stopped, looking back.

  “Want to come with me?”

  “All right.”

  Up by the smaller ponds he took my hand to lead me through the maze of narrow concrete paths.

  “I’ve got an idea one of the screens is punctured,” he explained. “I should have checked it this afternoon. If I leave the blessed thing overnight the fish will all get mixed up and we’ll have to regrade them.”

  Bill knelt down at the sluice between two ponds, slid up the sleeve of his casual shirt, and fumbled around under the water.

  “Damn. I’ll have to go and fetch another screen. I’ll only be a few minutes. You stay put, Kim.”

  I whiled away the passing time by trying to spot baby trout. It wasn’t easy, because a soft evening breeze was rippling the surface of the water, reflecting the overhead lights in a thousand twinkling pinpoints. Eventually I squatted down on my heels and leaned forward, shading my eyes. I bent lower still....