They ate their strawberries and cream in silence, both lost in thought. A moment had passed between them, and neither of them knew how to move on from it. Meredith looked around the cafe at the other diners. Tables were piled high with delicious cakes, and the cafe had a homely feel about it, despite being in the centre of a bustling town. In a film, she'd have realised she was in love with Drew whilst standing looking over a stormy sea with violins playing in the background. In reality, love was a warm, cosy feeling that lent itself to a place like this cafe, where life went on as normal, and the revelation of growing love was a quiet, and somewhat hesitant whisper rather than a crashing symphony.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Drew, breaking into her reverie.
“Violins.” The word was out before she could stop herself.
“I can't hear any.”
“No, that's the point.”
“Would you rather they were playing?”
She shook her head. “I like things just as they are,” she replied, smiling dreamily and eating another strawberry.
“So do I.”
They paid the bill and left the cafe, each still lost in their own thoughts. Meredith had never been in love before. She wasn't sure what one did. Should she tell him? No, that wasn't a good idea. What if he didn't feel the same way? He was kind to her, and he seemed to like her, but that didn't mean anything. Drew was kind to everyone. It was what she loved most about him. His humanity, and ability to accept people for what they were, instead of what society thought they should be.
They went to Shrewsbury Cathedral. Its cool interior did wonders for Meredith's increasingly feverish head. They stood close together, but barely touching, as if to do so might break the spell between them. At least the holy place in which they walked prevented Meredith from just reaching up and kissing him.
“Now what are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Suggestibility,” she said, to cover up her true thoughts.
“Excuse me?”
“The way I was able to talk Jimmy around so that he didn't end up threatening to harm Bert in front of the police officer. I’m only a beginner, but you have a lot of power over people that you probably don't realise, because you're a nice person.”
“I'm not quite sure where this is going. Only that I don’t much like it.”
“Aunty Peg thinks you might have inadvertently suggested to Bert that the woman he saw talking to Turner was Edith.”
“Hang on a minute, Meredith. I'm not an idiot. I just...” Drew ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh.”
“What is it?”
“It was me who said her name, not Bert. But he described her clearly enough, right down to her head scarf. No, no.” Drew shook his head. “Your aunt is wrong. It was definitely Edith.” But he didn't look so sure. “Perhaps we should go and talk to him again. Both of us. Then you can hear for yourself. Come on, we'll go back to Midchester now. Clear this up once and for all.”
“Can we go to the library first? I'd like to look up some old newspapers from this area. Aunty Peg said it's not worth it yet and to keep things local, but since we're here...”
They found the library and spent a while reading through all the old newspapers. They sat at a table in the centre, with Meredith on one side, and Drew at a forty-five degree angle to her at the end.
“Shropshire seems to be a deadly place to live,” said Drew, browsing through his stack of old newspapers.
“I wouldn't say so,” said Meredith. “These papers are spread over more than twenty years. I'm not an expert, but I suppose one murder every couple of years is average for any county, given that the murders don't all happen in one town.”
“That's still one murder every couple of years too many,” Drew said with feeling.
“Yes, I agree.” She went back to reading through the newspapers, but could not find anything that resembled the stories told by Mr. Turner. She was on the last in the pile when something caught her eye. “Oh... Drew, listen to this.”
Drew looked up from his own newspaper.
The headline at the top read Husband Hanged For Murder of Wife. The newspaper was from nineteen-twenty-nine. “Arthur Patterson was hanged in Hereford yesterday for the murder of his wife, Victoria Patterson (formerly Trefusis)” Meredith read, “known as Queenie to her family and friends,” Meredith read. “Patterson was convicted of the murder late last year, after Queenie Patterson was found stabbed in her bed. Patterson confessed to the murder immediately, and refused counsel. ‘Our married life was based on a lie,’ said Patterson at the time. The Pattersons had a teenage daughter, Maud, who has since moved abroad and changed her name.”
“You think the daughter is the real killer?” said Drew.
“It fits with what Turner said. About a parent hanged for the murder of another parent.”
“But he said a child, Meredith.”
“You said it yourself. To him a teenage girl would be a child. Besides, it doesn't say how old she is. She could be anything from thirteen to nineteen. But that's not the most important thing. Mrs Pendleton's maiden name was Trefusis. I'd bet anything that she was related to Colonel Trefusis. And Turner said something about someone murdering their uncle for twenty thousand pounds, then stealing a car and driving away. Oh it's all fitting together, Drew.”
“Wouldn't people in Midchester have known if Colonel Trefusis had a relative who was murdered? It's not the sort of thing one can hide.”
“Aunty Peg said that people hardly knew him in Midchester. They hadn't had time to pry. He'd only lived there a few weeks when he was murdered. Remember, Edith was just about to start work for him. He'd barely set up his household. And even if people had connected him to Queenie Pendleton, he only had to deny it for the gossip to stop. I remember him, you know. Vaguely. He seemed at the time to be a lonely, unhappy man.”
“No, darling, I think you're just believing that now because you believe he's related to Queenie Patterson.”
“Edith would be just the right age,” said Meredith thoughtfully. She was trying to ignore the fact that Drew had called her darling, but the warm tingle in her spine wasn’t going to let her forget.
“Don't you think Trefusis would have known if he was employing his own relative?”
“Perhaps he did know. Perhaps he just wanted to help her. Then Edith arrived earlier than she pretended, killed him, inherited his money...”
“Then with twenty thousand pounds in the bank, worked as a housekeeper for the vicar?”
“Yes, but she’s in love with Peter Mortimer. Anyone can see that. She’d be his slave if he asked her to be.”
“Make up your mind, Meredith. She's either a matricidal witch, intent on attaining a fortune, or she's a hopeless romantic, willing to hang around the place where she's just murdered someone else so she can keep an eye on the love of her life.”
“We're not dealing with a rational person here, Drew. If she's a psychopathic killer...”
“Why psychopathic? I thought she murdered Trefusis for the money.” Drew frowned.
“But that’s not why she killed her mother, if she did. Who knows why she did that?”
“Unless her mother had a fortune to leave her. But,” Drew ran his hands through his hair. “Didn't Edith's mother die just before Edith came to work for Trefusis?”
“She could be lying. So that no one knows her mother died many years earlier than that.”
Drew looked at his watch. “If we're going to make dinner with the Mortimers, and talk to Bert first, we'd best be going.”
“Just give me a moment to write this down,” said Meredith, taking her notebook out of her handbag. “And I need to drop in on Aunty Peg. You can come if you want. We can tell her what we know so far.”
Chapter Six
When they returned to Midchester they found Betty working alone in the strawberry field. Drew and Meredith picked up a punnet each from the table at the entrance, paid their money, and went into the field.
“I
'm beginning to feel like that Agatha Christie book,” said Betty, pouting. “The one where all those people on the island die off one by one.”
“When did you last see Bert?” asked Meredith.
“This morning. We had a row...” Betty paused. “Miss Bradbourne...”
“Call me Meredith.”
“Meredith, can I talk to you alone for a bit? Sorry, Drew, but there's some things I can't discuss with you.”
Meredith felt a brief swell of pride. It was nice to know she had her uses.
“I'll go and pick some strawberries for Aunty Peg,” said Drew, wandering off to another lane somewhere in the distance.
Meredith knelt down next to Betty, and started picking a few strawberries herself, so that she wouldn't get Betty into trouble. “What is it Betty?”
“I don't know what to do for the best,” said Betty, her eyes filling with tears. “You see, I love Jimmy, but I think I'd be better with Bert. He's got an O-level. In woodwork. And he's got plans. Wants to start up his own furniture shop.”
“That's a good plan.”
“So he'll make a better dad for my baby, you see.” Betty put her hand to her tummy.
“Oh, yes, I see,” Meredith said gently. “But whose baby is it, Betty?”
“It's Jimmy's.”
“Do either of them know?”
Betty shook her head. “No, I haven't said anything yet. I'm only a couple of months gone. So I could let Bert think it's his, couldn't I?”
“Do you think that would be a fair thing to do, Betty? Bert's a sensitive lad. If he ever found out the truth...”
“But I can't marry Jimmy,” said Betty, her voice rising hysterically. “He's not stable. Anyway, he might be hanged for murder. I can't tell my baby that his daddy is a killer.”
“Jimmy won't be hanged if we've got anything to do with it. I think … I think what's happened has taught Jimmy a lesson. I've got a feeling he won't want to touch a knife ever again. He's still got a lot to learn, but perhaps finding out he's going to be a father will be the making of him. You have to give him that chance, Betty. If he lets you down, then be honest with Bert. I think you'll find Bert will want to help you, no matter who the baby belongs to. But don't start a life together based on a lie... Oh...”
“What is it, Meredith?”
“I've just thought of something. I wonder... Never mind. It's up to you what you do, Betty. You don't have to choose to have any father for your baby. All that will matter is that the baby is loved and cared for.”
“I don't want my baby born illegitimate,” said Betty, with some passion. “It's got to have a better life than I've had. Pushed from one home to another. Treated like dirt because ...”
“But it won't be like that, because your baby will have a mother who loves it. A child can survive anything as long as it's loved. And I know you're going to give that child your very best.”
“You've got more faith in me than I've got in myself,” said Betty, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Well someone's got to believe in you for a change, Betty.”
To Meredith's surprise, Betty threw her arms around her. “Thank you. I know the right thing to do now.”
Meredith got up, feeling her knees creaking slightly, and went back to Drew. He'd filled the punnet with strawberries, and was eating one of them.
“Haven't you had enough strawberries today?” she asked.
Drew stood up, and offered her one. “There's no such thing as too many strawberries.”
After they'd paid for their crops, they walked back to Aunty Peg's. The sun shone overhead, and Meredith realised that there was no better place on earth to be than Midchester in the summer. Or anytime for that matter. The back of her hand kept brushing Drew's fingers, and once or twice she was tempted to hold his hand, but shyness prevented her.
“Do you know, the sound travels quite well across that field?” said Drew.
“Oh,” she said, her heart dropping. “What did I say wrong now?”
In response, he swept his hand around her waist, and pulled her towards him. His lips found hers, as her punnet of strawberries, looking like tiny red hearts, tumbled to the ground.
***
“Have you been running, darling?” Peg asked Meredith, when they sat in the drawing room ten minutes later. “You look a little flushed.”
“I'm … oh it's a warm day,” said Meredith, trying hard not to look at Drew.
“Tell me what you've found out.”
Meredith and Drew told Peg what they'd learned that day, and how Meredith had linked it all together.
“So you think Edith is the colonel's relative?” Peg thought about it for a while.
“I'm sure that if she was, you'd have found out when you investigated fourteen years ago,” said Drew. Meredith wasn't sure, but she thought she sensed a question in his voice. Why hadn't Aunty Peg tried harder to find out about Trefusis?
“I'm afraid I failed over Colonel Trefusis,” said Peg. Her old eyes became misty. “It was a bad year for me, and … well … the death of a man I'd only known a few weeks became less important to me.”
“Because it was then that Meredith went away,” Drew suggested, kindly.
“Yes. I missed her so much when she'd gone, I didn't do much of anything.” Peg wiped away a tear, and Meredith felt her own eyes stinging. “It's the only time I've ever failed to track down a murderer, but now I realise that was meant to be. Because my girl had to come back and help me.” She smiled. “Now, Reverend Drew, tell me all about yourself.”
“Am I being auditioned?” Drew's face broke into a smile.
“You certainly are, young man.”
“I've already told Meredith I was a naughty boy in my youth.”
“Oh I think all men should be. Actually all young people should be. We expect far too much of our young. In fact we expect them to behave better than we ever did. Is it any wonder they rebel? Who are your parents?”
“I'm afraid I can't speak for my father,” said Drew. “I never met him. My mother was an actress... Or at least that's what she told her elder sister, Gloria. I'm afraid it may not have been true. She died when I was three years old, and I went to live with my Aunty Gloria, who is both terrifying and wonderful in equal measure.”
“As all aunts should be.”
“You're not terrible,” said Meredith.
“Oh that's because I didn't really bring you up, dear. Aunty Sheila did. Had I had the day to day care of you, I promise I'd have been every bit as strict as she was. As it is, I could afford to spoil you when you came to me for holidays because I didn't have to deal with the consequences.” Peg winked. “Are you going to carry on travelling around troubleshooting or will you settle in a parish with a pretty young wife, Drew?”
“Aunty Peg!” Meredith protested. “That's none of our business.”
“I fully intend to treat myself to a pretty young wife one day soon,” said Drew. “As for a parish, unless I can choose Midchester, I'm not sure I'd want to be anywhere else.”
“Well, there's always hope for that,” said Peg.
“Have I passed your test … Aunty Peg?”
Meredith looked from her aunt to Drew, and felt she'd come into the conversation halfway through.
“Oh yes, you'll do very nicely,” said Peg. “Now, Meredith, fetch some scones and strawberry jam from the kitchen. We'll have afternoon tea. Reverend Drew is staying, of course.” It was a command rather than an invitation, and one which Drew accepted graciously.
“I think that if I eat anymore strawberries today, I'll pop,” said Meredith, looking in the mirror over the fireplace.
Drew had left half an hour earlier, to give him time to change for dinner. He'd offered to walk back for Meredith, but she assured him she could manage to find the vicarage on her own. Since their kiss, she hadn't known what to say to him. It had been easy in the presence of Aunty Peg, who was able to keep a conversation going all on her own. But when she showed him to the door and they were
alone, she became tongue tied again. Her awkwardness increased when he kissed her lightly on the lips.
“It's the season, dear,” said Peg. “Strawberries with everything. Never mind, Edith makes a nice strawberry flan. In fact we had that the night I went to dinner there.”
“When you broke your ankle?” Meredith tweaked an unruly curl. Her hair always refused to look as sleek as she would like it to. She wore a dress of pale green chiffon, with a tight bodice and full skirt. Around her neck, because she felt self-conscious about the low neckline, was the same scarf she had worn that afternoon.
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