Shroud of Silence

by Nancy Buckingham

  Other missiles followed, a hail of smaller tools. Too weak now to try dodging any more, I stood rigid on my tiny island rock, my hands feebly warding off the bombardment.

  And then I saw Corinne pick up the toolbox itself, lifting it high in the air with both hands. But she didn’t throw it. Her head was half turned, as if again she could hear something.

  And then I too heard it. Men’s voices, and quite near. With a sudden curious clarity I heard Drew’s surprised exclamation.

  “Look, Bill, over there. Something’s wrong.”

  I screamed out wildly, an incoherent yell for help. At the same instant Corinne launched her last desperate shot, flinging the cumbersome, toolbox straight at me. It fell short. But the wash swept me from my unsteady perch on the boulder.

  I thrashed about madly, hope injecting me with a new strength. Drew was coming.

  My cry to him came out as a feeble whimper. But it was enough to be heard.

  “Kim’s in the pond!” Drew’s voice seemed to be reaching me across oceans of wild dark water,

  But then a light stabbed out, very close, right by the bank. It swung around, searching, and centred on me.

  Drew shouted, “All right, Kim. I’m coming.”

  With a crash his body hit the water. Within seconds his powerful hands were gripping me, supporting me.

  His voice in my ear was urgent: “Keep still, Kim. Don’t struggle.”

  I hadn’t known I was struggling.

  Relaxing, I gave myself completely into the security of his lifesaving hold. I lay back on the water, and the moon smiled down at me.

  As we moved with the current towards the farther bank, I was aware of an odd feeling of detachment. Freed now from all responsibility for my own safety, I was even able to absorb something of what was happening on the road.

  Corinne had run to the car. I saw it start with a jerk, headlights still blazing, and accelerate away from the stocky figure running after it in vain pursuit.

  I shall never be certain what was in Corinne’s mind at that moment. Did she realize that there was no hope for her, no chance of getting right away? Or was she still intent on murder?

  I watched the car pull up abruptly some fifty yards off where the road widened. It reversed and spun in a tight turn to come hurtling back, engine screaming, heading straight at Bill.

  At that moment I was sure Corinne meant to kill him, just as she had meant to kill me. For one horrible second I thought she was going to succeed. Bill’s silhouetted figure, arms waving in a frantic appeal to stop, was in the direct path of the car.

  Corinne didn’t slacken speed, but at the last instant she braked hard, and the car went into a sickening skid. With tires screaming, it slewed violently across the road, seemed to hang for long seconds on the very brink, and then slid sideways into deep water.

  The wash went right over our heads. But it helped to carry us to the bank. Drew reached out and grabbed a hold, and I tried weakly to do the same.

  Bill had got there already, his flashlight playing on us.

  “Here, Bill,” Drew gasped. “Look after her for me.”

  I reached up, but Bill spurned my hands. His fingers clamped around my wrist and in one rapid movement he had hauled me out of the freezing water

  Drew was already swimming strongly across to where the car had gone down. Now nothing showed above the surface. Only a thousand ripples in the beam of Bill’s flashlight.

  Bill dumped the torch on the grass as he wrenched off his thick-knit sweater. “Here, get yourself into that,” he ordered.

  And then he was gone, running around the perimeter of the pond, shining the light down to help Drew locate the car beneath the water.

  Without warning, Drew disappeared under the surface. I cried out involuntarily, and kept my eyes clamped to the spot, as if in some way that would protect him. My teeth were clattering and I felt piercingly cold, but I was far too tense to think of putting on Bill’s sweater.

  The black water swirled suddenly as Drew’s head, came up. But he paused there only long enough to gulp a huge breath, and then he had dived again.

  This time he stayed down for an age. Surely it was impossible that he could survive for so long without air? I felt a pain in my own lungs and found I had been holding my breath in sympathy.

  It was difficult even to get up on my feet, but I had to help if I could. I stumbled round the pond to where Bill was lying stretched flat on the road, reaching out over the water.

  I crouched down beside him, asking in a frightened whisper, “What’s happening?”

  “He’s got her out of the car.” Bill’s voice too was hushed. He added in the merest thread of a murmur. “But whether she’s ...”

  I could make out vague movement, an agonizingly blurred drama in slow motion deep below the surface. Then suddenly they came bursting up in a tumult of surging water, Drew gasping painfully and Corinne limp and lifeless in his arms.

  Hastily, I grabbed the torch from Bill to give him both hands free. He got a grip on Corinne and dragged her body out of the water and up on to the road. Still gulping tortured breaths Drew began heaving himself up. I gave him my hand and pulled with a sudden strength that surprised me.

  There had been no sound at all from Corinne. Snatching the torch from me, Drew shone the light where she lay on the road, Bill kneeling beside her.

  Even with her clothes torn and clinging wetly, she was still a beautiful woman. Her glorious red-gold hair lay streaked across her face, and Bill smoothed it gently aside to free her nose and mouth.

  In the cold light of the torch we could see dark red blood on her forehead spilling from a savagely gaping wound,

  It was impossible to believe that Corinne could still be alive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sound of tiny waves lapping the sandy beach was oddly comforting. The quiet rhythm helped to wash away the recurring nightmare of that other water, the brutally avenging water of Mildenhall.

  Tansy was in a deckchair, placidly knitting. I lay on a rug watching Jane as she played with Badger at the foamy fringe of the sea,

  It was still September, and hot in the morning sun.

  Today Drew was coming. Today I would see him again.

  He had sent us away from Mildenhall. Sensing my reluctance, he was firm, using his strongest weapon.

  “It will be better for Jane,” he insisted. “You can’t deny that.”

  Jane had accepted her mother’s death calmly, and after only a few days away from the repressive atmosphere of Mildenhall I noticed a definite improvement in her speech. I sensed a new eagerness about the child an awakening of confidence.

  I’d not attempted much in the way of actual speech-therapy. This was to be a holiday. I taught her how to swim, and we fished for crabs in rock pools and played ball games on the beach. In place of her former shyness and sullen silences, an excited stream of talk began to bubble forth. Jane still stammered, but the great thing was that it didn’t bother her any more. That was the biggest step yet towards being cured.

  Without doubt, coming away from Mildenhall had been better for Tansy too.

  I had been full of apprehension about her attitude towards me after her abusive attack on that last dreadful evening at Mildenhall. For the first two days at the sea she was very quiet and withdrawn, drifting through time, hardly aware of what was happening. But then suddenly she seemed to make a big effort to pull herself together and take notice again. She responded to my conversational openings with a gentle friendliness, and I had a growing feeling she was on the verge of a confidential talk.

  She finally managed to get around to it on the third evening of our stay at the Regency Hotel. Jane had been put to bed, and Badger with her in a basket provided by an indulgent management. Tansy and I were having after-dinner coffee in the lounge.

  She sat very still, but I could see that the hands on her lap were tightly gripped together. When she spoke, the words came out in a nervous flurry.

  “I want t
o apologize to you, Kim dear. I’ve said some terrible things and I want you to know how truly sorry I am.”

  “That’s all right,” I said uncomfortably. “I think I understand. Please forget about it.”

  “No no, I can’t do that—not until I’ve tried to explain why I was so against you. Why I was so horribly unfair. I knew all along you were just the person to help Jane. But when you started asking so many questions I got dreadfully afraid of what might come out.” She had begun to tug at a button on her dress, quite unaware what she was doing. “I kept trying to persuade Drew to send you away, but naturally he refused. And then one evening I had a chance of frightening you away from Mildenhall. I switched off the outside lights at the fish ponds so that you were left stranded in the dark ...”

  “You did that!” I cried out in bald astonishment I’d been taking it for granted that Corinne had somehow been responsible.

  Tansy nodded her head in shame. “It was such a wicked thing to do. You might have fallen in and ... but you see, Kim dear, I was almost out of my mind. When I realized you were getting interested in how my son had died, it made me feel quite desperate.”

  “How did you know about that?” I had taken such pains to avoid upsetting Tansy. “Did one of the others tell you I was asking questions about Brian?”

  She bit at her lower lip. Then, looking down at her lap, she confessed: “I found a newspaper report of the inquest in a drawer when I was ... dusting your room.”

  “I see!” So she’d been snooping! I was long past feeling angry about that, I was almost faintly amused.

  But I still couldn’t understand her fears about me and my questions. What was it she’d been so scared I might discover?

  Explaining this to me was her worst moment. She had a painful struggle to speak at all. The words, when they came at last, were stark, wrapped in nothing but anguish. “I believed that it was Drew who killed Brian,”

  “You thought Drew ... !” My reaction, swift and strong, was an anger that she could ever have suspected Drew. But then I began to remember. There had been moments when I too had felt the stirrings of suspicion that Drew was somehow involved.

  I flushed and turned away so that Tansy wouldn’t see my face. “Why did you think it was Drew?” I asked her hoarsely.

  Again I had to wait. At last she said in a small, timid voice: “I had just told Drew about Corinne and ... and my son.” She looked at me quickly. “You know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I know about that.”

  “Drew was out of the house that evening. He was dreadfully angry because Corinne had kept Jane out until late, and at midday I’d overheard them having a terrible argument. I thought ... I thought Drew must have met Brian by chance and they’d started to quarrel and ...” Her voice broke off and she turned her head to stare out the window at the darkening sky.

  “So all along you were trying to protect Drew? Is that why you confessed to having killed Brian yourself?”

  She turned slowly to face me again. “I’d do anything for Drew. Anything! I’ve loved him more than I could ever bring myself to love Brian. Can you believe that, Kim dear? Drew means more to me than my own son did.” She was watching me with a wondering look, as if she couldn’t understand herself. “Even as a child Brian was always ... I should have tried harder with him—I should have made him see what is right and what is wrong.”

  She was crying now, and I was glad we were alone in the hotel lounge. I stood up, putting my arm around her shoulder.

  “You mustn’t blame yourself, Tansy.”

  That evening marked the real beginning of our friendship. We had always been at one in wanting the best for Jane. And the best for Drew. Now we could pull together in the same direction.

  Tansy talked to me a lot about Drew, and about his disastrous marriage to Corinne. “She wasn’t the sort of wife he deserved—always so extravagant and so selfish! Of course, she was incredibly beautiful, and I suppose that’s why ...” Tansy frowned with distaste. “The way she carried on with men! And poor Drew having to put up with it all for little Jane’s sake. Do you know, Corinne managed to make him feel guilty always, because she was supposed to have sacrificed a brilliant singing career to marry him.”

  Corinne was dead now. There was nothing I could find to say to her credit, so I preferred to keep silent.

  I had only seen Drew once since we’d left Mildenhall, and that was on the day of the inquest. He had looked haggard and strained. The searching questions must have been a terrible ordeal for him.

  We only exchanged a few brief words. He asked about Jane and Tansy, and I told him they were doing fine.

  “Thank you, Kim,” he said with a faint smile. He touched my arm lightly. “I know they’re in good hands.”

  Gwen had come down from London for the inquest, though this time there was no question of her being involved. She was looking a great deal better than when I had last seen her. It must have been an enormous relief for her to feel free of responsibility for Brian’s death.

  Bill Wayne took us both out to lunch. It wasn’t a cheerful occasion, but it was preferable to being alone. Gwen astonished us by refusing anything to drink.

  “I’m better off without it,” she said decidedly.

  She told us of a plan she had to ask Tansy to help her in the Chelsea shop. “She loves the sort of old things I deal in, and she’s really quite knowledgeable. I think it would help her. I think it would help us both.”

  I hadn’t a doubt it would help Tansy, but my first thought was for Drew. “How will he manage without her?” I asked.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean right away,” Gwen said hastily. “We’ll have to see how things work out, but I expect Drew will get by all right.” I caught a quick glance of amused understanding pass between her and Bill.

  I had been surprised not to see Verity and Felix at the coroner’s court, but Bill told us they had already left Mildenhall.

  “They lost no time moving out, and I doubt we’ll ever see them back. Pinky tells me Verity walked off with all Corinne’s clothes.”

  “It always beat me,” said Gwen, “the way Drew put up with that pair of spongers.”

  Bill pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I reckon they must have had some sort of hold on Corinne. They understood how her calculating mind worked, and between them they probably guessed enough to put the screws on.”

  “But if that was the case,” I put in, “you’d think they’d have been more careful what they said about Brian’s death.”

  Bill shrugged. “Felix could never resist the fun of stirring up trouble, whatever the consequences. I bet all that bothers either of them now is that they’ve lost themselves a nice soft pad.”

  I could believe that. Each of the three Harpers was utterly self-centered. Just once, though, Felix had seemed to be playing out of character. He had appealed to me not to make more trouble for Drew. I could see it now as an attempt to stop any further probing into Brian’s death, an eleventh-hour bid to preserve his own comfortable position at Mildenhall.

  Bill drove me back to the coast afterwards, and our conversation circled around the one inevitable topic. We were nearly there when I said wryly, “To think how wrong we were about the jacket! It simply never occurred to us that Brian could have taken it off himself.”

  “It was just as well we were so steamed up about it.”

  Bill observed mildly. “If Drew hadn’t insisted on me showing him just exactly where I’d found the thing, we wouldn’t have come down to the fish ponds that night.”

  I was silent, fingering my cheek where the wildly flung sickle had slashed across it.

  Bill dropped me off at the hotel, not wanting to come in. “Be seeing you, Kim,” he said lightly.

  “Thanks for everything, Bill.”

  He took my hand in both of his, holding it for a moment.

  “Kim ....”

  I waited.

  He squeezed my hand hard, then let it go. “Never mind.”

  I stood and watched
while he jumped in the car and started off. “Good luck,” he called back, with a cheery wave.

  I was thinking about it all as I lazed on the beach with Tansy, idly keeping an eye on Jane as she dug a channel for the incoming tide. Suddenly she dropped her spade and started to run, streaking past us with Badger tumbling after her.

  I sat up quickly and turned round to see what the excitement was all about.

  Drew was walking towards us across the sand. He threw out his arms to Jane and caught her up, hugging her to him rightly.

  I jumped to my feet. All at once I was absurdly self-conscious in my bikini, and reached for my wrap.

  “You’re early,” I said awkwardly. “We didn’t expect you until this afternoon.”

  Setting Jane down he smiled at Tansy and me. “Luckily I was able to get away sooner than I thought.”

  Immediately after lunch Tansy took Jane off for a walk along the shore. “I expect Daddy has things to talk about with Kim,” she twittered.

  I had to forgive Tansy’s archness. She meant well. Tansy had always meant well.

  Drew watched Jane and Badger gaily prancing off, Tansy in breathless pursuit.

  “It’s wonderful to see Jane looking so happy,” he said. “She’s taking it all better than I dared hope.”

  “She doesn’t understand, of course,”

  “No,” he said grimly. “She didn’t see it this time, thank God!”

  “You mean ... ?” I had guessed wildly, that hideous night in the pond.

  He was frowning angrily. “When Corinne pushed Brian into the pond that night, Jane was in the car. She must have seen it happen. Now we know what caused her stammer.”

  “No, Drew.” I shook my head. “I’m sure it wasn’t quite like that. Jane was too young then to interpret anything she might have seen.”

  “But thinking back, I’m certain, that her stammer started then.”

  “She was probably affected by the atmosphere that developed at Mildenhall afterwards.” A thought struck me suddenly. “If Corinne was scared of Jane giving something away, she might have clamped down hard on her natural urge to chatter. That sort of repression would be terribly bad for a child, and could well trigger off a serious speech difficulty.”