by Ann Purser
Gus, thinking that this would be one in the eye for Roussel, agreed.
Thirty-four
“SHE’S MUCH TOO attractive to be a reverend,” whispered Deirdre, as Dorothy hailed them from the bottom of her garden. Tall and willowy, and with the stiff white collar of her office, which she miraculously made attractive, the lady under discussion smiled broadly and said how pleased she was to see them, and what could she do to help?
“It’s about Miss Beasley and Mr. Goodman,” explained Gus, with his most winning smile. “I believe their banns will be called for the second time tomorrow?”
Dorothy nodded. “We’ve been unable to trace that man who ran off from the vestry,” she said. “I can only think it was a practical joke, though it was very far from funny! So, yes, I intend to go ahead. Is there a problem?”
Gus explained, and brought out the message. “This is the second message we’ve received,” he said. “I am sure you’re right, and it’s just some idiot’s idea of a joke, but I am not prepared to risk it.” He had no idea what he would say if she asked what exactly he would do to prevent it, but hoped that he sounded authoritative enough.
Dorothy stared down at the paper in her hand. “I must say I agree with you, Mr. Halfhide,” she said slowly, “and I presume you will hand this to the police straight away? Do I understand that Miss Beasley and Mr. Goodman know nothing about this second message? And if so, are you going to tell them?”
Deirdre spoke up. “I see no point in worrying them with it. We can surely think up some reason why the banns can’t be called tomorrow, without giving them another horrible shock?”
Dorothy replied that in her opinion Miss Beasley was more or less shockproof. “And surely if Enquire Within is still working on the case, you’ll have to tell the other two?”
“She’s right,” Gus said to Deirdre. “Shall we ask them up to Tawny Wings for supper tonight, and break it to them after a glass or two of wine?”
“Ivy’s teetotal, she always says, though she frequently breaks the rules,” Deirdre said. “And anyway, what shall I do about the squire?”
“Mr. Roussel?” said Dorothy, looking puzzled. “Does he come into this somewhere?”
“Not at all,” said Gus firmly. “He is of no importance whatsoever.”
• • •
AFTER SOME HESITATION on the part of Miss Pinkney, who, though quite happy for Gus to pick up Ivy and Roy and take them to Tawny Wings for supper, was worried in case Mrs. Spurling should look in last thing to check that everyone was safe and sound. Then Ivy settled the matter by saying that she was not a prisoner in Springfields, and would be ready to deal with Mrs. Spurling if the question should arise.
• • •
“COME ON IN,” said Deirdre, as they arrived. “I’ve rustled up something rather special for supper, but let’s have a drink first and relax.”
Ivy’s eyebrows were raised. “I am perfectly relaxed, Deirdre,” she said. “As far as I am aware, we have no reason to be otherwise. But I know Roy likes a small whisky around now, and I am partial to a sweet sherry. Thank you very much for inviting us. A nice surprise, wasn’t it, Roy?”
“I think so,” he replied slowly. “Though I can’t help wondering if Gus and Deirdre have something to tell us? Maybe something unpleasant?”
Gus and Deirdre exchanged looks. No fooling the old man, then. “We might as well tell them and get it over with. Then we can enjoy supper,” said Deirdre.
Gus reluctantly took out the now-crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Ivy.
“Oh dear me, not another missive from my well-wisher,” she said calmly, and read it out to Roy in a perfectly steady voice.
Roy, on the other hand, looked quite nervous, and as Ivy was moving towards the fire, obviously about to consign the message to the flames, he put out a hand to stop her.
“Give it to me, dearest,” he said. “I think we should hand it over to Inspector Frobisher. He would not be pleased to hear we had destroyed it.”
“Quite right,” said Gus, and rescued it from Roy to return it to his pocket. “I shall be going into Thornwell on Monday and will drop it at the police station.”
“So the banns will be called again tomorrow? I really see no reason to pander to this lunatic.” Ivy’s face was red with annoyance, and her voice sharp.
“Well, actually,” said Deirdre, clearing her throat, “apparently there are still one or two formalities regarding the challenge to sort out. We met Rev. Dorothy, and she explained. Should be fine by next week.”
“That’s right,” said Gus. “Nothing to worry about, though. Now, how about those drinks, Deirdre? Would you like me to do the honours?”
• • •
AFTER IVY AND Roy had been taken back to Springfields, Gus collected Whippy from Deirdre and made his way home. He parked his car, and walked back to his cottage. To his dismay, he saw a figure, unmistakeably Miriam, waiting for him by the front door.
“Augustus Halfhide!” she said, when he was close. “This is the end! All those times you have eaten my food, and asked me to mind Whippy, and dozens of other favours, and you haven’t even the decency to let know you wouldn’t be back for supper! I repeat, this is end of our relationship. Find yourself another slave! Good night!”
“But Miriam, my dear, I remember you offering supper, but I didn’t say yes or no, and you said ‘just come in.’ Isn’t that right?”
She stood in front of his door, arms akimbo. “Trust you to twist the truth!” she said fiercely, not budging.
“It is the truth,” Gus replied mildly. “And I am rather tired, if you wouldn’t mind allowing me to go into my house. I am sure we can sort all this out in the morning. You know I value your friendship highly, and would never have knowingly hurt your feelings.” He sighed, and wondered if he had gone an encouraging step too far.
Miriam stood silently for a moment, then, like a deflating balloon, put a swift forgiving kiss on his cheek, and moved to one side. “Oh, all right, then,” she said. “Let’s forget all about it. Rabbit pie’s still edible, and what’s more you can eat it!” She laughed, pleased with the old joke.
He nodded, patted her on the shoulder and moved to unlock his door.
“Oh, and by the way, you had a visitor. Big bloke, with a bald head. I didn’t go outside, though he looked vaguely familiar. Starting to grow a beard, or fashionable stubble. One or the other. He knocked and knocked, but of course you were not there, and he finally went away, looking furious. I would have gone out to help, but it was nearly dark by then and, as I said, he was a big bloke.”
“Did you notice if he had an earring?” said Gus urgently.
“No, of course not. I said it was nearly dark. Anyway, why shouldn’t he have an earring? Lots of men do. Can’t say I approve, but I’m old-fashioned, I suppose.”
“What time was this?”
“Not sure. Sometime after the six o’clock news. Why, anyway? Was he important? Should I have gone out?”
“No to all those questions. Now, off to bed, Miriam. I look forward to rabbit pie lunch tomorrow. Night-night, love.”
Miriam went off very happily to bed, and dreamt that a big man wearing diamond drop earrings was holding her hostage, and Gus came along to rescue her, declaring she was the only one for him.
Thirty-five
THERE HAD BEEN a hoarfrost in the night, and when Deirdre drew back her bedroom curtains she saw a glistening white world in front of her. The sky was a heavenly blue, and sunlight filled the garden. She would not have been at all surprised if a fairy had landed on her windowsill and offered to fly her to fairyland.
But Deirdre was made of stern stuff, and such whimsy was immediately banished from her thoughts. She had work to do today, even if it was the Sabbath. She had lain awake for an hour or so last night after the others had gone, and thought about Theo Roussel, who had sounded so sad and disappointed when she had called him to cancel their drinks get-together. He complained that he had not seen
her for ages, and was she by any chance avoiding him?
She didn’t know the answer to that one herself, and skirted the question, saying that she would be at home anytime he liked to call in. She suspected the truth was that middle age was catching up on her, and she couldn’t be bothered to carry on a relationship that was clearly going nowhere.
Now she put all thoughts of love and marriage out of her head and considered what she should do today to carry on enquiring. The little Jossland family came into her head. That lovely baby! Perhaps she should have insisted with Bert and had one or two of her own. Anyway, Bella had said they would be pleased to see her again at any time, and she decided to drive over to Settlefield. Perhaps this morning? She doubted they were churchgoers, but you could never tell these days. But it wasn’t that far, and she could always come home if they were out.
• • •
AT THE FARM, William Jossland had got up early as usual. He had a small milking herd, and was out in the yard before six. Bella had fed Faith, and the tiny girl was now sleeping sweetly, snuffling in her milky dreams. The morning sunshine streamed into the bedroom, and Bella slid quietly out of bed and into the bathroom. She would give William a surprise, and have breakfast all ready with something special, as it was Sunday. Bantams’ eggs? The little flock of black-and-white bantams was hers to care for. She had taken a fancy to them in the Oakbridge cattle market, and William had indulged her, saying bantams were useless layers, but if she wanted a hobby it was better than yoga or some such nonsense.
She put the chalk-white eggs on to boil for a couple of minutes, and set the table. She could see William out in the yard, and knew that he would be in very shortly, ravenous and cheerful.
Such a pity they had to waste a lovely day visiting Aunt Ethel Goodman. As they were the only relatives in their generation, they felt obliged to visit the old lady once a month, regardless of the fact that she had no idea who they were, and usually snored her way through their visit.
“Breakfast’s ready,” she said, as William came stamping into the kitchen. Lumps of mud fell off his boots, and he stood them outside the door, coming in with his thick socks squelching on the stone floor. “Walked over the pond, and the ice broke!” he said, kissing her fondly. “How’s our young lady?”
“Fast asleep,” said Bella. “Let’s see if we can have breakfast before she wakes. I suppose we’ll have to take her to visit Aunt Ethel? I hate the smell of that place. It seems all wrong, taking a new baby there.”
“Rubbish,” said William. “We needn’t stay long, anyway. The old thing has no idea who we are or where she is.”
“Poor old lady,” said Bella. “Can she go on much longer? It’s not much of a life, is it?”
“Who knows. She might be having lovely, lurid dreams of the past. And the staff say she’s still strong as an ox. No, she’ll go when she’s ready. The last of the Goodmans, more or less.”
“Well, that branch, anyway. Oh, listen! Wasn’t that Faith? Why don’t you go and get her and she can have a cuddle while we’re having breakfast.”
• • •
DEIRDRE DROVE INTO the farmyard around ten thirty, and parked in a spot she hoped would not be in William’s way. Now she was here, she was struck by how unsuitable it was for her to be calling on a Sunday. But farm life was different, surely? Cows had to be milked, livestock fed and watered, eggs collected, every single day of the week. Perhaps she should just turn around and go home. But they had probably spotted her by now. Anyway, they would not be likely to see her off the premises with a shotgun!
She decided to ask how they were, and if they had any problems, apologise for it being Sunday, and leave. Unless, that is, they insisted on her going inside, and then she would play it by ear.
Before she reached the flight of steps leading to the back door, it was opened and Bella stood there holding Faith in her arms and smiling broadly.
“How nice to see you, Mrs. Bloxham! Come on in and have a coffee. William’s gone up to check on the water supply in the barns. He went through the ice on the pond this morning and was not best pleased!” She laughed cheerfully, and Deirdre followed her into the warm kitchen.
“And how is little Miss Jossland today?” she said.
Bella handed her over and Deirdre sat marvelling at the tiny person in her arms. “Just to think she will grow into a beautiful young girl,” she said.
“It does make you think,” Bella said. “We have to go and see my old aunt, Ethel, this morning, and since Faith arrived I’ve tried to remember that this horrible old woman was once a lovely baby, too. Visiting is from ten to twelve, and we usually stay about half an hour, so I’m afraid we can’t talk for long this morning.”
“Is she in a good home?” Deirdre said, her brain working fast. “I have another client I visit, and she’s fed up with where she is.”
“Auntie’s been in the Firs for years. Alzheimer’s got hold of her when she was only about sixty-five. Poor old thing. She had an unhappy romance in her youth, apparently. We don’t talk about it! So anyway, the Firs seems to be quite a nice place. It’s a nursing home, really, so they don’t have many bright ones in there.”
“I must have a look at it sometime,” said Deirdre, and was delighted when Bella rose to the bait.
“Why don’t you come along with us?” Bella said. “We don’t stay long. Not much point, really. You could have a look around, I’m sure. And who knows? Maybe Aunt Ethel Goodman will be stimulated by a visit from a stranger. Though I doubt it!”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Deirdre replied, and looked round as William came in, cursing the weather and saying couldn’t Bella go on her own to visit Aunt Ethel? Then he saw Deirdre, and managed a smile.
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Bloxham. Sorry we can’t sit and chat this morning.”
“I’ve suggested Mrs. Bloxham comes with me to do the Aunt Ethel visit,” Bella said. “Why don’t you give it a miss this morning? We can be all girls together!”
“Really? Would you mind, Mrs. Bloxham? It would be really helpful just now. The path across to the pigs is like a skating rink, and I have to see to it before one of us gets a broken ankle.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Deirdre said. “I’m here to do what I can to help. And anyway, it will be useful for me to see the Firs.”
“Afraid Aunt Ethel Goodman won’t have much to say. In fact, nothing. But Bella will be glad of some company. Right, splendid. I’ll be off up to the pigs, then. See you later, love and little love. And Mrs. Bloxham. Bye.”
• • •
THE FIRS WAS a large, redbrick house, dating back to the thirties, and had belonged to a builder who had spared no expense in making a quality home for himself. Modern wings had been added, however, with narrow corridors barely wide enough for the several wheelchairs, and these contained the private rooms of the residents, each with a door that opened out onto a scrubby garden. The roomy ground floor of the old house had been converted into lounges and a main dining room for the inhabitants. There were one or two vases of wilting flowers, and the smell of disinfectant was powerful.
Deirdre followed, struck immediately by the difference between Springfields, which was more like a four-star hotel, and this place. But now they arrived in Aunt Ethel’s room, and drew up chairs by the side of her bed. She was asleep, and snoring. Deirdre looked closely at her, trying to see some similarity between her and dear old Roy, and noticed that one eye was half-open. Was she feigning sleep?
“Shall we wake her?” she said to Bella.
“We’ve tried, but she never does. They say she does sometimes, but never talks. Just moans. That’s why I dread coming here, and am really grateful to you!”
“Yes, we can just chat, and then go away again. Do you think she knows we’re here?”
“You can’t tell, can you?”
“Well, we’ll just ignore her, and talk about something else. Would you like to hear about my other work? It’s an enquiry agency, and we take on cases of all sorts,
usually one at a time. But at the moment we’ve got three things we’re investigating.”
“How exciting!” said Bella. “What is your agency called, just in case we have a mystery to solve on the farm?”
Deirdre described Enquire Within, and when she named the other members of the team, Bella looked surprised. “Goodman? Mr. Roy Goodman? He must be one of the other family branch over at Barrington. What a coincidence! And who are you investigating? Or is it all confidential?”
“Not really. It’s all been in the papers. You must have seen the report on Steven Wright, found dead in bed in a furniture store? That’s one thing. And then there’s a funny old chap living in Barrington who wants us to get rid of his wife. Legally, I mean! He’s called Lowe. Lowe by name and low by nature, I reckon. Still, I mustn’t go on about confidential—”
The sleeping figure stirred and her eyes opened. Then she said, suddenly and perfectly clearly, “Alf Lowe, he’s a rotten sod!”
Bella and Deirdre froze.
“Never was any good,” said Ethel. “Rotten sod. Burn in hell, I ’ope.”
And then her eyes closed and she began to snore once more.
“Good heavens,” said Bella. “What was all that about?”
“Something in her past, I expect. How strange,” added Deirdre. “It must have been something I mentioned. Alf Lowe, she said, didn’t she? How extraordinary.”
Now it was Faith’s turn to stir and stretch. She gave a tiny yawn, and began to squeak.
“Feeding time coming up,” Bella said. “We’d better be off now. Auntie’s not going to say anything else, is she?”
“Probably not,” Deirdre said. “Perhaps we could have a quick look around before we go? It has been a most interesting morning.”
“Well, you certainly managed to get more out of Aunt Ethel than anyone else has. Must have been the sound of a new voice, do you think?”
“Could’ve been. I know my cousin, Miss Ivy Beasley, has lots of conversations going with usually silent old persons in Springfields, just by provoking them, and being her usual sharp self.”
