“She's asked me to help her out at the youth club tomorrow night. Give me an idea of how the parish does good works and all that. I don't mind if you tag along.”
“Tag along?”
“Come on, give me some credit, Meredith. I've discovered the first useful bit of information.”
“You may think that, but I couldn't possibly comment.”
“Oh, well, if you know something I don't, please do share with me.”
“Actually I don't,” Meredith admitted. “Okay, I'll come and help out at the youth club tomorrow night.” She would never admit to anyone but herself that the real reason was that she wanted to see more of Drew.
“Great.”
“But you mustn't ask her anything until I get there.”
“Scout's honour,” said Drew, putting his fingers up to his forehead in the familiar salute of boy scouts everywhere.
“By the way,” said Meredith, before she walked on, “since you've shared your tips with me, let me share mine with you. Aunty Peg says that you shouldn't trust people just because you like them.”
“Meaning?”
“Just because you like Jimmy, Bert and Betty doesn't mean you should take everything they say as gospel.”
“Thank you, Miss Marple. I'll remember that.”
Meredith waved over her shoulder and walked back to Peg's with a lighter step and a big smile on her face.
Chapter Four
Meredith could not deny that Drew had a way with the youngsters in the youth club. They were drawn to the circle of other young people around him, as he discussed with them the music of the day, the sadness of Buddy Holly's untimely death, and the best James Dean films.
For her part, she was left standing next to a tight-lipped Edith Sanderson, who seemed to resent that the children she could not connect with had found common ground with Drew.
“Of course,” she said to Meredith as they filled paper cups with orange squash, “it's because he's new here. Reverend Mortimer is loved just as well by his young parishioners, but he understands that children need a patriarchal society to guide them, not a brotherhood.”
Meredith was tempted to point out that Jesus preached brotherhood, but she wisely kept her own counsel. “You've been with Reverend Mortimer a long time,” she said. “You must have seen lots of changes.”
On their way to the village hall, Drew had coached Meredith on the importance of asking open questions. “Never ask a question to which the answer could be yes or no,” he had said. “That's what they call a closed question, and it doesn't always get you very far, especially with someone who's known for their reticence.”
“Not really,” said Edith. “In Midchester changes happen slowly, and that's how we like it.”
“I admit it hasn't changed much since I was last here,” said Meredith. “Whereas in Sheffield where I live, all the old houses have been knocked down and replaced by council estates.”
“Heaven forbid that should happen in Midchester,” said Edith. “Though there are plans with the council for an estate of that type to be built near to the railway station. With any luck we'll get them refused.”
“But people need somewhere to live, especially those who were bombed out by the war,” said Meredith.
“Let them live elsewhere. Midchester does very well as it is. It doesn't need new ideas, no matter what the vicar's new wife says.”
“I take it Clarice Mortimer is all for the new estate.”
“Well, not exactly that, but she's determined to build onto the vicarage. I mean, it's not as if she and the vicar will have children. She's far too old.” There was a gleeful tone in Edith’s voice. “The vicarage is very nice as it is.”
Meredith wanted to ask Edith about her parents, but found it much harder to come up with an open question than she realised. So she just came out with it. “Were your parents born here?”
“No.” At least Edith's short answer proved Drew's point.
“Oh, sorry,” said Meredith. “Aunt Peg said you were related to us somehow, way back in time, and that our ancestors were from Midchester.”
“My great grandfather was an architect,” said Edith, proudly. “He had family connections up here, but he wasn't from Midchester. He built many of the newer houses here. He also helped extend your aunt's cottage when it was the old constable’s house. But I'm not from Midchester. The Sandersons weren't based here. They were based on Devon. That's where my mother was born, God rest her soul.”
“How long ago did she die?”
“Eighteen years ago, a few years before I came to Midchester. She'd lived to a good age. She was seventy-five.”
“That is a good age,” said Meredith. “How long had you known Alfred Turner?”
“Who?” The question seemed to Meredith to be rather loaded. She got the impression that Edith knew exactly who she meant, but was playing dumb.
“The old policeman who was injured on the train.”
“I didn't know him at all.”
“That's odd. I thought I saw you talking to him in the corridor.”
“I wasn't talking to him.” Edith opened a packet of bourbon biscuits and tipped them out onto a plate. “Children, your drinks are ready.” With those words, she illustrated why she did not connect with the teenagers in the village hall. They clearly did not like being referred to as children, and crossed the room sulkily. “Just one biscuit each. Come along, don't all push in.”
“Anything?” Drew muttered to Meredith, whilst the children were busy getting their drinks. She walked away from the table and he followed, so they were out of earshot.
“No. She says she wasn't talking to him. Oh, and her mother died at the age of seventy eighteen years ago.”
“She must have been an old mother,” said Drew. “I thought Edith was about fifty-five now.”
“Yes, I think she is. They're from Devon. I don't know if that makes any difference.”
“Edith,” said Drew, going back to the refreshments table. “I've been meaning to ask. What brought you to Midchester?”
The teenagers had dispersed, and were either playing games, snooker, table tennis and darts, or just near the stage area, listening to Buddy Holly on the record player.
“It's a funny story, Reverend,” said Edith. Despite her disapproval of him, she had a natural deference for a man of the cloth. Or probably for men in general. “Well, not a funny story. A quite sad one really. I was supposed to come up here to work at Bedlington Hall, for a Colonel Trefusis. But he died just before I arrived. I decided to come up anyway, and luckily Reverend Mortimer and his first wife – she was such a dear lady – were looking for someone.”
“I remember that,” said Meredith. “Colonel Trefusis's death, I mean. It was the last time I stayed with Aunty Peg.”
“It was all very cloak and dagger,” said Edith, managing to sound disgusted and delighted all at once. “He was murdered, and they never found out who did it. He'd no immediate relatives, so all his estate went to a distant cousin. Twenty thousand pounds in all.”
Meredith's eyes opened wide. She exchanged looks with Drew, who nodded imperceptibly to let her know he also remembered what Turner had said to his companion in the train corridor. “What about Bedlington Hall?” asked Meredith. “Who inherited that?”
“No one as far as I know,” said Edith. “The Colonel didn't own it. He rented it from the Bedlington estate. The owners live abroad I think. The other funny thing is that his car was stolen, and they never found it.”
“Of course,” Meredith said. “I remember that, yet when I heard Mr Turner say it yesterday, it didn't occur to me that he was talking about Colonel Trefusis. It's been so long since I thought about the colonel...”
“Why are you even interested?” asked Edith.
“Oh, you know,” said Meredith. “Just trying to get some local colour, and fill in a few of the things I've missed by not being here.”
“And what about you?” Edith looked at Drew.
“Sam
e thing. Local colour and all that.”
“Well it's nothing to do with the money going missing from the church funds, I'm sure. And if you ask me, Reverend Cunningham, I don't see why you're even looking into that. Peter Mortimer is the most honest and upright man I've ever met.”
“But the money has gone somewhere, Edith,” said Drew.
“Maybe it has, maybe it hasn't. But I'm telling you that he hasn't taken it!” Edith's voice rose a few octaves, so that the teenagers all turned around to listen.
“Come on,” said Drew, speaking to them all. “Turn the music up. We'll clear the snooker table out of the way and dance.”
“I don't think you should have to music too loud, Reverend Cunningham,” said Edith. “Some say it's the devil's music.”
“I don't believe in the devil,” said Drew, ignoring Edith's stunned expression. “At least not one in a place called hell. There are more devils walking the earth.”
“What are you thinking about?” he asked Meredith, a short while later. They were dancing to a Buddy Holly song, called True Love Ways. Despite her trying to keep a suitable distance, he held her close to him. It was very disconcerting.
“Religious mania,” said Meredith truthfully.
“I'd hoped you were thinking of me,” he said.
“Maybe I was,” she replied, mischievously. “You're not like any vicar I've ever met before.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad?”
“I haven't decided yet. You horrify Edith.”
“Good. It might make her think. You can't treat kids as if they're all products of the original sin, as she does. They need space to be themselves. There's a saying. If you love someone, let them go. If it's meant to be, they'll come back. That's how I believe God treats His children. Never mind how the Bible has been interpreted down the years. I've no time for all that hellfire and damnation rubbish.”
“My, you must be popular in the Church of England.”
“Why do you think they've put me in this job, which involves travelling all over the country? It keeps me out of their hair.” They danced in silence for a while. “Now what are you thinking?” he asked.
“I'm thinking that I like the words to this song. The way it charts the highs and lows of a love affair.”
“Have you ever found true love, Meredith?”
She shook her head. “No, but I'm not sure I'd even know what it was if I found it. I'm determined I'm not going to...” She stopped there, reluctant to share with him her own thoughts on wanting a child born into a marriage, with two parents who loved it. She hardly dared admit it to herself most of the time, because she did not want to judge her mother harshly for the choices she had made. She knew, without Drew having to tell her that she was lucky compared to Betty, Bert and Jimmy. She'd had the unconditional love of Aunty Sheila and Aunty Peg, and their constant reminder that she was a special girl worthy of their love. But she also realised that too many people who knew about her beginnings judged her in the way that Edith Sanderson did. She had made a vow to herself many years before that no child of hers would be born into the same circumstances. So when boyfriends had tried to take the relationship to the next level, Meredith had pulled away, determined that she would make no mistakes that could, in the future, impact on a child. In essence she had switched off the part of herself that responded to men in a romantic way. It wasn't that she didn't sometimes find men attractive, as she did Drew, but she never let it go beyond that. She preferred to admire from afar.
“If you ever do think of me, Meredith,” said Drew, “just try and remember that the dog collar is just an item of clothing. I'm a man, like any other man.”
It was that fact which frightened her most of all.
After the youth club had closed, Drew walked Meredith home, whilst they discussed Alfred Turner and what they had learned so far. It felt nice, walking alongside him. As if they’d known each other forever.
“I wonder,” said Meredith, “how many more of his stories joined up. I thought he was talking about different cases, but what if the part about someone stealing the car, and the twenty thousand pounds are the same case?”
“I don't see what that’s got to do with Turner being murdered now,” said Drew.
“It might if the murderer was on the train and thought he might recognise them. You said that Jimmy stole cars...”
“Yes, but as far as I know, he didn't have a rich uncle leave twenty thousand pounds to him. Anyway, how long ago is it that this Trefusis chap was murdered?”
“Just over fourteen years. Aunty Peg was trying to find out who'd killed him when Aunty Sheila took me away.”
“Jimmy is twenty-four years old. Yes, he might have started young, but I don't think he was even capable of murdering someone and driving away a car at the age of ten.”
“But Turner mentioned a child, one he claimed was evil.”
“Jimmy is not evil, Meredith. He's misguided, and a bit of an idiot sometimes. But he's not evil. Besides, who knows how old the child that Turner mentioned was? Bear in mind he was an old man. Anyone under eighteen would be a child to him.”
Meredith had to admit that Drew had a point. “All the same I might ask Aunty Peg more about Colonel Trefusis in light of what we've learned.”
“I think we're in danger of becoming sidetracked,” said Drew. “But it's up to you, of course.”
“We have to explore all avenues,” said Meredith.
“Fair enough. Now, onto more cheerful subjects. Will you come out with me for a drink one night?” They had reached the gate to the constable's cottage.
“What? To talk about the case?”
“If we must, but I really meant you and I. As a man and woman.”
“A date?” Meredith's heart began to hammer. She felt she ought to feel safe with Drew, given his career choice, but her physical response to him told her differently.
“I'm sorry if that's such an unwelcome suggestion...”
“No, it isn't. I mean … yes, we could go on a date. It doesn't have to lead anywhere, does it?” Her mouth was so dry, she could barely get the words out.
He half-laughed, half-sighed, sounding irritated in the process. “Not at all. In fact, if you have a drink with me just once, I promise never to darken your doorstep again.”
“I didn't mean...”
“Drew, Drew! Wait.” Betty came hobbling down the street on her high heels, interrupting them. “Oh Drew, I don't know what to do.” She threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Meredith didn’t think that was absolutely necessary, frowning as Drew’s arms encircled the crying girl.
“What is it?”
“It's Jimmy. They've found him over in Shrewsbury and arrested him. Please come, Drew. He hasn't got anyone else.”
“I'll borrow Reverend Mortimer's car and come straight away.” Drew seemed to have forgotten Meredith was there.
“I could come and help,” she suggested.
Betty glared at her. “No, not you. You think he attacked the old geezer. He needs friends around him, not enemies.”
Meredith's face burned scarlet. “I do want to help,” she said.
“You'd best stay here,” said Drew. “It's not as if you know Jimmy very well. You're practically a stranger to him.”
Meredith swallowed hard, feeling like she was going to cry. Then, as was her manner, she pulled herself together. This wasn't about her feelings. It was about Jimmy and the predicament he was in. “Yes, I understand,” she said. “But tell Jimmy I'll do my best to find out who the real attacker is.” Betty need not know that a few minutes before, Meredith had been convinced it was Jimmy.
“What I'd like to know,” said Peg over a cup of hot cocoa, “is how Bert knew it was Edith talking to Turner. I can't imagine he knows her. The youngsters who come up for the strawberry picking aren’t exactly churchgoers.” The drawing room was dim, illuminated only by the lamplight on the table next to Peg's chair.
“She denies it anyway,” said Meredith.
“That's not my point, dear. Boys like Bert can be suggestible. I'd like to know exactly what your Reverend Drew asked him, and what he replied.”
“You needn't worry, Aunty Peg. Drew is an expert detective.”
Peg smiled benignly. “He's also a man with a lot of power over young minds. He's probably too nice a person to realise it.”
Meredith sank down into the armchair. “It's true they all love him. I'm not doing very well, Aunty Peg. No one likes me or trusts me enough to tell me their secrets. Edith disapproves of me because she knows I’m illegitimate and the youngsters just don’t trust me in the way they trust Drew.”
True Love Ways Page 4
