Angel with Two Faces

by Nicola Upson

  ‘No, I don’t think we would. I stayed away from the estate for a long time after Veronique died, but you can’t run away forever and I think coming back helped in a funny sort of way.’

  ‘I can understand that – you can see the lives you’re responsible for. Sheila’s happiness matters as much as the League of Nations. Personally, I think that’s as big an achievement as your war work. From what Ronnie told me in the car, you have something very special here – and not just because it’s beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he said. ‘It does heal, I suppose…’

  ‘Up to a point?’

  He smiled. ‘Yes. Up to a point.’

  Sheila arrived with a tray of coffee, and Archie and the girls soon followed. An old black Labrador trailed behind them and made straight for the hearth, and Josephine was amused to see how quickly William went over to move one of the chairs back so that the dog could stretch out in front of the fire. She handed Archie his whisky. ‘All measured up?’

  ‘Yes, although a steady stream of this throughout the week might not go amiss.’

  ‘It can be arranged. There’s another bottle back at the Lodge. I’ve got something for the Snipe, too – do you think now would be a safe time to give it to her? I’d like to say hello.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it’s a basket of everything she’s missing from the kitchen, is it?’ William asked. ‘That would make Sheila’s life a little easier.’

  ‘No, it’s a bottle of sherry – but it might have the same effect.’

  ‘Excellent idea, although if I’d known your luggage was largely drinkable, I’d have been more careful with it,’ Ronnie said. ‘Take it through now and put her in a better mood for the morning. There’s no point in ringing for her – she had the housekeeper’s grating blocked up when she first got here so that the bells wouldn’t disturb her.’

  ‘Yes, there was never any doubt as to who was in charge,’ William agreed, and pointed Josephine in the direction of the kitchen.

  In spite of Mrs Snipe’s reservations, the servants’ quarters seemed to be tidy and well ordered. The kitchen was not especially large – about twenty feet by twenty – but the ceilings were high and every inch of space had been put to good use. Sturdy wooden pegs were everywhere, set along the beams to hold pots and pans, as well as a few provisions – onions, garlic, a large flitch of bacon – which were presumably needed close at hand for regular use. How little must have changed here over the years, Josephine thought; she might easily be looking at an Edwardian or even a Victorian kitchen. Fascinated by the scale of some of the implements – in one corner, there was a slice of tree trunk bound with iron hoops to make a fine chopping surface; in another, a massive mortar stood mounted in a heavy wooden stand, with the long handle of its pestle held in a high wall bracket above – she realised that the Snipe must have a physical strength to match her spirit, and her opinion of the Motleys’ cook – which was already high – went up a notch or two. In the grate, a big black kettle hung on an iron bracket over the coals, but the fire was beginning to die down and the chairs on either side of the hearth remained empty. Sheila was still there, scrubbing down the large oak table ready for the next morning, but there was no sign of Mrs Snipe.

  ‘She’s through there,’ the girl said, nodding to one of three doors that opened off the kitchen. ‘Popped through to her sitting room, then told me to put the kettle on. I thought we were having tea, but she’s told me to go when I’ve finished this.’ She looked at the sherry in Josephine’s hands. ‘You go through – I’m sure she won’t mind being interrupted for that.’

  Feeling a little like the proverbial fly, Josephine did as she was told. She wasn’t surprised to see that the Snipe’s personal domain – at the end of a short corridor from the kitchen and well placed to overlook other areas of work – was a spacious, comfortable sitting room, plainly furnished but lacking nothing, and rivalling William’s library for faded but cheerful warmth. There was a jolly wall-to-wall carpet, matched with pleasant chintz curtains which had probably hung higher up the house in their younger days, and a pile or two of cushions made the old chairs look loved and inviting. The room was lined on two sides with well-stocked linen and china closets and, on another, with a mending table and desk which stood side by side. On top of the desk, grouped affectionately in the middle, there was a small collection of photographs of the Motley family which Josephine would have loved to explore – had she not realised immediately that she was intruding. At the round central table, where tea cups had been pushed to one side to make room for a large pan of water, Mrs Snipe was bending over another woman, gently bathing her face.

  It was the other woman who noticed her first. She jumped up from her chair, nearly knocking the pan over as she did so, and turned quickly away from Josephine – but not quickly enough to hide her injuries. Her left eye was so badly swollen that she couldn’t open it, and a cut to her lip had covered her jaw and collar with blood. Startled, the Snipe looked up.

  ‘Miss Tey,’ she said, horrified, and Josephine realised it was the first time she had ever seen the cook at a disadvantage. ‘I didn’t see you there. Is there something I can get for you?’

  Surely they weren’t going to pretend that nothing was wrong, Josephine thought. That was ridiculous. ‘Has there been an accident?’ she asked. ‘That cut looks like it might need stitches. Do you want me to call a doctor?’

  ‘No, please don’t.’ Panic-stricken, the stranger found her voice and took a couple of steps forward. She was about forty, Josephine guessed, although her fear might have made her appear older than she was. ‘I don’t need a doctor, really I don’t,’ she insisted, and there was a pleading, pathetic note in her voice which was dreadful to hear. She tried to pull her long, mousy hair forward over her face, as if covering up her bruised and battered features would convince them that she was not really hurt. ‘Just let me sit here for a moment and I’ll be fine.’

  Her face betrayed her words, but Mrs Snipe was quick to regain her composure. She led the woman back to her chair and handed her the soaked cloth for her eye. ‘It’s all right, my love, we’ll get you sorted just fine on our own. Stay here while I have a word with Miss Tey outside.’

  Josephine found herself ushered back to the kitchen, still holding the increasingly absurd bottle of sherry. She put it down on Sheila’s freshly scrubbed table. The girl had now left for the evening, and the room was calm and peaceful.

  ‘I know you mean well but I can handle this,’ Mrs Snipe said firmly. ‘Getting a doctor in would only complicate things.’

  ‘But that woman’s obviously been badly beaten, and somebody needs to do something about it. Who is she, anyway?’

  ‘Beth Jacks, the gamekeeper’s wife.’

  ‘Then shouldn’t someone fetch her husband and let him know what’s happened?’ Josephine’s naivety was reflected back at her in the look on Mrs Snipe’s face. ‘You mean he did it to her?’ she asked, shocked. ‘Then you can’t possibly keep it quiet – it’s assault and she needs to be protected from him. I’m going to fetch Archie – he can tell whoever’s in charge down here.’

  She turned to leave, but Mrs Snipe caught her arm. ‘Down here, no one’s in charge of what goes on behind closed doors between a man and his wife – just like anywhere else in the country. What do you think will happen if you get the police in? At best, someone will go round to have a word with Jacks and be palmed off with a load of lies and men’s talk, and the minute he’s gone, Jacks will knock Beth from here to next week, probably half kill her, and everything’ll go back to normal.’

  ‘What about William, then? He wouldn’t allow this to go on if he knew. Can’t he sort it out without the police?’

  ‘Oh, he’d certainly try. First whiff of any violence and Mr Motley would have Jacks off this estate faster than he could skin a rabbit. The trouble is, Jacks would force her to go with him, so she’d be destitute as well as beaten. Look, don’t think I don’t agree with you,’ she said, more soft
ly this time. ‘I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to pick up a knife and sort him out myself for her, but it wouldn’t do no good. I’ve seen it before with another woman from the village, and it only gets worse if you fight back. At least here she’s got friends to keep an eye on her.’

  ‘But you’re not here most of the time.’ Josephine sat down at the kitchen table, still unsure of what to do for the best. ‘What happens then?’

  ‘She’s always got Morveth,’ Mrs Snipe said. Josephine recognised the name of the woman whom Archie and William had spoken so highly of, but she couldn’t help feeling that it would take more than a bit of white magic to sort this one out. ‘Beth went there first tonight, but Morveth was out for some reason, so she came here instead. There’s a few of us she can turn to. Please don’t say anything, Miss Tey – not even to the girls or Mr Archie. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.’

  The words echoed those that Archie had repeated to her earlier when he was talking about Morveth and the funeral, and reluctantly she acknowledged defeat. She was an outsider here, although it was more the logic of Mrs Snipe’s reasoning that convinced her to keep quiet, at least for tonight.

  ‘This is for you,’ she said, pushing the bottle across the table. ‘You may want to share it, though.’

  The night air was anything but springlike by the time Archie walked Josephine back to the Lodge, but the beauty of the moon over the lake more than made up for the chill that partnered the clear skies. They paused at the end of the drive, transfixed by the silver light playing on the water, but – as magical as it was – Josephine’s mind was on other things.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Archie asked. ‘You’ve been a bit quiet since dinner.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘It’s just the journey catching up with me. It was a lovely evening, though, and William’s marvellous.’

  ‘He is, isn’t he? I knew you’d like him. In all the years…’

  A gunshot rang out through the woods, muffling Archie’s words and startling Josephine. ‘What was that?’ she asked, looking anxiously towards the trees.

  ‘Don’t worry – it’s only the gamekeeper, and it sounds closer than it is. That’ll be one fox less after the pheasants – unless one of those gypsies William mentioned has run out of luck.’

  He was joking, but the thought of Kestrel Jacks with a gun didn’t exactly reassure Josephine. Before she could ask him anything about the gamekeeper, she noticed a young woman coming towards them along the path from the direction of the Lodge. ‘Gets busy, doesn’t it?’ she said wryly to Archie.

  ‘That’s Morwenna,’ he said. ‘What on earth’s she doing wandering the woods at night?’

  ‘She’s probably just glad of the peace and quiet. From what you tell me, I imagine she’s had enough of company for one day.’

  Certainly, Morwenna showed no inclination to engage for long. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your brother,’ Josephine said when Archie had introduced them. Morwenna shot an accusing glance at him and, realising her mistake, Josephine tried to rectify it. ‘William told me about the accident,’ she said quickly. ‘It must have been a terrible shock.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said dismissively, but seemed to soften towards Archie. ‘I’ve been looking for Loveday,’ she explained, glancing at him and ignoring Josephine completely. ‘She went for a walk after the wake. You haven’t seen her anywhere, have you?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. Have you tried Morveth’s?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’ll go there now. I just thought I’d drop in at the Lodge in case she’d gone to say hello to you. She likes to see you when you’re home.’ It might have been her imagination, but Josephine thought she detected a slight emphasis on the last word. ‘We both do,’ Morwenna continued, and Josephine could only admire her for delivering such a loaded sentiment without a hint of coyness. She wondered if she should walk on and leave them to it, but Archie showed no sign of awkwardness.

  ‘I’m sorry we were interrupted earlier,’ he said, ‘but I’ll come and see you at the cottage. We can talk properly there.’

  ‘Thanks, Archie,’ she said, genuinely grateful. ‘I’ll see you then.’

  ‘All right – unless you need any help looking for Loveday?’

  ‘No – she’ll turn up. You know what she’s like – she runs wild everywhere at this time of year. I wouldn’t normally go out looking, but it’s been a long day and she’s over-excited, and the wake carried on at the Commercial Inn – God knows what state some of them are in by now.’

  ‘There’ll be a few wavering footsteps along the cliff path tonight, then.’

  She smiled. ‘Exactly, so I don’t want her getting into any trouble.’

  ‘Look, are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. You’re probably right about her being with Morveth – and I’d rather be on my own for a bit.’

  She was gone before Archie could argue. ‘Beautiful but difficult?’ Josephine guessed when they were out of earshot. ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to drop you in it, but there was no reason for her to assume you’d told me anything I shouldn’t know.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. She’s so on edge at the moment that anything you said would have been jumped on. And the difficult does tend to outweigh the beautiful.’

  ‘Even so, I imagine there’d be plenty of people willing to overlook that. Has she always been on her own?’

  ‘As far as I know. Her parents died when Loveday was still very young, though, and she’s brought her sister up. A lot of men round here might be happy to overlook difficult, but being saddled with a child as well is very different.’

  ‘She obviously thinks a lot of you,’ Josephine said, but Archie looked uncomfortable and she didn’t press the point. When they arrived back at the Lodge, she led the way round to the back door, shining her torch ahead of them and fumbling for her key. Suddenly she let out a cry and dropped the torch. The beam of light went out as soon as it hit the ground, leaving them in complete darkness.

  ‘What is it?’ Archie asked anxiously.

  ‘There’s something on the doorstep,’ Josephine said. ‘I thought I saw blood.’

  ‘Stand back a minute.’ Archie fumbled around on the floor to find the torch, and shook it back into life. Placing himself between Josephine and the door, he shone the light on the step. ‘It’s all right,’ he said with relief. ‘I suppose you could call it a present.’ He held up a rabbit. ‘I don’t know if you’ve come across our cat yet, but she obviously wanted to welcome you with something.’

  Josephine laughed, a little embarrassed to have made a fuss. ‘Is she black with white paws and very talkative?’

  ‘That’s her. She divides her attentions – and her appetite – impeccably between here and the house, so we call her Motley Penrose.’

  ‘Then we have met. She was sitting on the window sill when Ronnie dropped me off. She likes ham.’

  ‘If you’re on those terms already, this is probably a thank you. Don’t tell the Snipe, though – she accuses us of spoiling her, but she’s far worse than anyone else when she thinks no one’s looking.’

  Dora Snipe had more on her mind at the moment, Josephine thought, as Archie disposed of the rabbit in the bushes. She wondered again if she should say something to him now, in spite of her promise. ‘Shall I open that whisky?’ she asked, putting the light on in the kitchen and going over to fill the kettle.

  ‘It’s tempting,’ he said, washing the blood from the step with a glass of water, ‘but not tonight. You need a good night’s sleep and I wouldn’t mind one myself. We’ll have a couple tomorrow to toast our victory at the cricket match.’

  ‘Are you that confident?’

  ‘Not really. To be honest, the Loe House team is a bit of a motley selection, in more ways than one – but then the estate can’t be any less united than it was today. Sleep well – I’ll see you in the morning.’

  He kissed her goodnight and s
he watched from the door until the beam of light from his torch disappeared, vaguely aware of something she had meant to say to him but unable to put her finger on what it was. It was only later, as she lay in bed thinking about Kestrel Jacks and his wife, that she realised what had been hovering at the back of her mind: Loveday couldn’t possibly be at Morveth’s, because Morveth had not been at home. So where was she? She fell asleep, still trying to decide if she should telephone Archie or not.

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  Chapter Five

  Loveday sat for a long time on the Bar, midway between the lake and the sea, waiting for the tide to turn and the waves to get smaller. Now, satisfied that the sea was at its lowest point, she crept into the church through the side entrance. The moon shone through the open door, throwing its magical light on to the painted screen that stood just inside the porch. Harry had told her once that it came from an old ship, a galleon which had been wrecked on the beach a long time ago. He had shown her where the ship sailed from on a map, but she couldn’t ever remember the name and he’d had to keep reminding her. The aged wood was covered with exotic painted figures – men with dark faces and funny eyes – and they looked even stranger now in the moonlight. He had said that there really were people like that in the world if you went far enough away, but she hadn’t believed him and so he had promised to take her travelling one day and show her. She closed the door behind her and the faces disappeared. She was glad they were gone. Without Harry there, they frightened her.

  The church was quiet and dark inside, and she could barely hear the sound of the sea. It was a completely different place from earlier in the day, when so many people had come to see Harry. She walked up the middle aisle to the front and sat in the first pew, bowing her head solemnly. That was what you were supposed to do when you sat down in a church – she knew that, because she had watched other people do it. It was how she had found Nathaniel earlier this evening, sitting quietly in the pew with his face hidden. Now, she waited for what she thought was the right length of time, thinking how old and peculiar the church smelt, then lifted her head. As her eyes got used to the darkness, she could just make out the familiar figure on the cross. He looked so sad, she always thought. She remembered how Nathaniel had explained it all to her one day – the man was sad because people in the world did bad things and because of that he’d had to die. That didn’t seem fair, but Nathaniel had said it was all right because he came back, stronger and better than before. Thanks to the man on the cross, he said, it was the same for everyone. People never died if there was someone left to care for them. Love brought them back.