‘I’ve got the cats,’ came another voice from behind Rich. ‘I’ve let ’em out in the yard to stretch their legs. Plenty of ratting to be had.’
A large tabby strolled out from behind the donkey. Sybil Thorndike gave chase and as she and the cat disappeared out through the open back door, Laura saw the flashing lights of the police vehicles parked in the yard.
‘Could be time to beat a retreat,’ she said to Rich.
‘You mean…?’
Laura heard a familiar voice coming from a loudhailer. ‘We have you surrounded. Let go of the donkeys and come out with your hands up.’ shouted Inspector Phil Sandfield, as he ran in.
Chapter thirty-nine
Laura thought long and hard about how she was going to tell Venetia. She decided it was better to be away from the lure of the television and suggested they take a walk around the gardens. In the end she need not have worried, Venetia, after years of frustrated parenting remained sanguine.
‘Who’d have thought it, me, the mother of a murderer. She’ll be away quite some time I’d have thought.’ Venetia crushed a lavender head and held it to her nose. ‘They might even make a biopic about her, although I don’t suppose I’ll be around to see it.’
‘Don’t be silly, of course you will,’ Laura said.
‘Do you think so?’ Venetia dropped the lavender, taking more of an interest. ‘Tell me what the Inspector said again.’
They sat on a bench looking over the rose garden.
‘She tried denying Matilda’s murder until Phil Sandfield showed her the tin I found in the attic. It contained two sets of false eyelashes and a lipstick. The lipstick had both Matilda and Angel’s fingerprints on it.’
‘That doesn’t prove much,’ Venetia said.
‘I know but it was enough to make Angel crack. When Matilda refused to loan her any more money, I’m afraid your daughter simply lost her temper and pushed her, in her towel, backwards into the bath. She replaced the towel and took the wet one up to the attic where she used to stay.’ Laura watched as Parker trotted between the bushes, Sybil Thorndike following him more slowly. ‘As of Repton,’ she continued. ‘She said she’d gone to see him in the middle of the night to implore him to let the animals stay. Their previous home had been shut down under suspicious circumstances. She said she tripped and accidentally fell on him. I suppose she might get manslaughter for that.’
‘Of course with her weight anything’s possible.’ Venetia’s gaze followed the dogs. ‘He let Sybil Thorndike get very fat didn’t he?’
Laura studied the dog. Venetia was right. ‘It was probably Gladys overfeeding her,’ she said.
‘But Angel must have been very light on her feet when she was pretending to be the ghost,’ Venetia continued. ‘What did she say about that?’
‘Denied it.’ Laura frowned as Sybil Thorndike lay down panting. ‘But she had all that knowledge of the attics and staircases, it must have been her. They found a wind machine the photographers had left behind from the virtual wedding you got mixed up with.’
‘Don’t remind me.’
‘The Inspector reckons Angel used it on the night Strudel and Jervis and I were staying, the night Strudel’s scarf got tangled up in the banister and they all thought the ghost had created a tornado.’
‘Very clever. I can see the re-enactment on CSI.’ Venetia checked her watch. They had been away from a TV for some time.
Gladys was in her room sitting on a chair staring out of the window.
‘All I can see is one long vale of spinsterdom leading down to a bog of sexless death,’ she moaned.
‘I’m sure Ancient Eros will sort you out with a new man,’ Laura said.
‘But until that fateful night I had a man of such perfection. I shall never be able to replace Repton, and to think how I maligned him. Accusing him of molesting me when all along it was…’ Gladys gulped. ‘… Venetia Hobbs’ daughter who had her hand at my throat.’
‘To be fair on Angel,’ Laura said, ‘she did say it was a mistake. She took a wrong turning in the dark.’
‘But what was she doing there at that time anyway?’ Gladys asked.
Laura sat down on a chair opposite Gladys. ‘She was hiding there most of the time after she got out of prison. She had nowhere else to go. Then she had the hare-brained idea of turning Mount Cod into an animal sanctuary. She had no idea about Ned Stocking.’
Laura leant forward and held Gladys hand. ‘I spoke to Ned; he and Pom have moved in as caretakers until the will is formally read.’
‘I thought she was in The Priory?’
‘Ned has convinced her she was a blameless pawn in her sister’s game. I’m so happy for them.’
‘You are right of course.’ Gladys blew her nose on a tissue.
‘I was going to drop off Sybil Thorndike with them later,’ Laura said. ‘Unless you would like her?’
‘No, I only put up with the dog because of him.’ Gladys sniffed again and wiped a tear from her eye. ‘I suppose I shall just have to go back to Mr. Parrott and reopen negotiations on the fastigiate oak.’
‘That won’t be necessary. Victoria rang this morning; she’s arriving later with Vince. Edward Parrott’s in custody.’
‘Goodness Woldham police station’s never seen so much action, but why?’ For the first time Gladys looked her old self.
‘Actually he’s been remanded to Woldham hospital’s psychiatric unit. Doctor Todhunter shopped him when Reggie Hawkesmore turned up at the surgery with rickets.’
‘From malnutrition?’
‘Edward Parrott was part of James Hanley Jones’ care home master plan.
They knew each other from when they both worked in the theatre with Sir Repton. Their mutual loathing of Matilda cemented their friendship. James Hanley Jones was getting him to run down Wellworth Lawns just like they ran down private houses so he could buy it on the cheap. Parrott’s OCD behaviour was all part of a ruse that went too far.’
That afternoon Laura drove over to Mount Cod and delivered Sybil Thorndike. Ned and Pom met her hand in hand on the front door steps.
‘I’m afraid she’ll have to go on a diet,’ Laura said.
‘We’re hoping to have a bit of a get-together to celebrate my father’s life and the return of the eagles,’ Ned said. ‘There’re arriving next week. The crane’s booked. We thought we’d invite you, Aunt Venetia, Gladys, Strudel and Jervis and the Canon. All the people who helped dear father but sadly could not save him. The funeral will have to come later when the police release the body.’
‘And have you thought what you are going to do with this place?’ Laura looked up at the great stone porch.
Ned gazed at Pom. ‘We’ve had a few ideas. Perhaps by the time we all meet we will have a clearer idea.’
Chapter forty
As it happened, the little party at Mount Cod had to be postponed and it was not until a month later that Ned Stocking invited them to a lunchtime celebration. It was partly in honour of Sir Repton, partly an unofficial announcement of the engagement of Ned and Pom, but mainly to welcome the new arrivals.
Sybil Thorndike had given birth to three healthy pughunds.
Parker was a disinterested father, mainly on account of Sybil Thorndike’s maternal hostility to her former paramour, but he did not appear overly concerned.
‘So, what are your plans after you are married?’ Jervis asked Ned and Pom.
‘We’d like to stay on here but I don’t think that will be possible for a while. Pom is going back to drama school in London, so we will be based there for the time being.’ Ned reached over and touched Pom’s hand. ‘We will rent out Mount Cod for a few years and then hope to escape to the country and start a family.’
Pom blushed.
‘How charming.’ Gladys began to weep silently.
‘Delightful,’ Strudel said.
‘Escape to the country?’ Venetia put her knife and fork down and looked at her watch. ‘I might have to miss the pudding.’
; ‘We have asked Canon Frank to marry us in the chapel here,’ Ned continued.
Laura looked at the Canon. He was sitting opposite her at the table. His eyebrows were mid-flight larks ascending. They swooped in to land as he caught her gaze.
After lunch Laura dragged Venetia away from the TV and they all sat in the summerhouse and listened as Ned declaimed some of Sir Repton’s favourite Shakespeare sonnets. Gladys became tearful again and Laura took her back into the house to freshen up.
‘I’ll wait for you in the sitting room,’ Laura said, as Gladys went upstairs one last time.
The room was just as it had always been. The sofas; the table in the middle of the room where Canon Frank had broken his ankle on their first meeting at the séance; the gong and the fireplace where Repton’s absurd turban had fallen.
Laura walked over to the window seat and felt the heavy damask curtains. She sighed and went to sit on the red velvet tub chair remembering her first evening at Mount Cod. Poor old Repton.
She looked around her again. On the little table to her side stood the lead tea caddy. She put it on the lap of her skirt and lifted the lid to inspect the sculpted head. In a curious way it reminded her of Andwele.
She heaved a sigh of relief that at least for the time being that secret was safe, but as she did so, she felt a sudden chill descend upon the room. She turned and looked out of the window. The sun was still shining outside. Where was Gladys?
She felt a coldness creeping through her bones, an arctic tightening of her shoulder blades. Her lips were numb. Her fingers, wrapped around the lid of the tea caddy had turned the same shade of leaden blue. Parker began to whine beside her. Then he ran from the room.
She wanted to follow him but something was stopping her. The weight of the tea caddy lid seemed to be physically keeping her in her seated position. Her head fell back. She tried to move her hands but it was as if she was being turned to stone, ossified like a marble figure on the tomb of some ancient family, trapped forever in a dank mausoleum. She could see her features carved in an icy coolness where warmth would never penetrate, even in the sanctity of a holy place.
Her mind was wandering now. She thought she heard a distant voice. She wanted to call out to Gladys. What was the voice saying? She listened intently but a fog was descending. The fireplace was no longer visible. All around her was muffled in a miasma of frosted crystals. A deep hum had begun in the depths of her head. But it wasn’t a hum. It was a voice. ‘I’mm…’ A tiny residue of warmth remained deep in her brain like the single seed within an over ripe furry apple. ‘I’m here…’
‘There you are Lady Boxford.’
She felt a weight lift. Her eyes focused as Canon Frank took the lid from her hands and placed it back on the base of the tea caddy.
She felt the warmth return slowly to her face and then her body as she lifted her head.
‘My dear,’ he took her hand gently. ‘Are you all right?’ His eyebrows burrowed. She smiled up at him as he took her by the arm.
With his assistance, she managed to get to her feet.
‘The others are waiting for you outside,’ he said.
‘Where’s Gladys?’
‘She said she’d called out for you but as you didn’t answer she assumed you were with us.’
They walked back out into the warm afternoon sunshine.
‘I’m glad to see the colour coming back into your cheeks,’ he said. ‘For a moment back there I thought you looked like you’d seen a ghost.’
Copyright
Published by Clink Street Publishing 2018
Copyright © 2018
First edition.
The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that with which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBNs:
978–1–912562–13–8 paperback
978–1–912562–14–5 ebook
The Haunting of Mount Cod Page 27
