Meredith crept around the side of the vicarage and onto the terrace at the back. The back garden still smelled of saltpetre, from the fireworks. The back door was unlocked, so Meredith tiptoed into the passageway, and passed the deserted kitchen. She could hear someone talking in the drawing room, so she pressed her ear against the door.
“You do see it's the best thing for all of us, don't you?” said Clarice.
“Yes.” It was a man's voice. Peter Mortimer. Once again he sounded like a man about to go to the gallows.
“We couldn't have let her stay. She'd have come between us, Peter.”
“Where has she gone?”
“Away. Forever. She won't come back. Now drink your milk, darling, then we can get some sleep.”
“Stop!” cried Meredith, bursting through the door. “Don't drink it, Peter.” He already held the glass of warm milk up to his lips.
“It's alright, Meredith,” he said. “Please, go away. While you still can.”
Clarice laughed. “That sounds a bit ominous. What are you doing here, Meredith?”
“I came to find Drew,” Meredith lied. “He was supposed to come and see us, to tell us how Bert was.”
“Bert?” Peter raised an eyebrow. It seemed to take him all his strength to do so.
“He's been run over by a car. I'd hazard a guess it's your car, Peter.”
“Now why would that be?” said Clarice. She stood up and placed herself between Meredith and Peter Mortimer.
“Because you took it after Drew brought it back to the vicarage. I imagine you found out he mentioned seeing you talking to Mr. Turner on the train. Where's Edith?”
“She's gone away.”
“I don't believe you. I think she's upstairs in her room and that you've done something to her.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
For the first time, Meredith saw the madness in Clarice's eyes. It was so obvious, she didn't know why she hadn't noticed it before. “Because you're Maud Patterson. Isn't that right, Peter?” Meredith appealed to the Reverend. Still holding the glass, he ran one hand over his face, as if he hoped to wipe away all the pain and anguish.
“Yes. I swear I didn't know, Meredith. Not until we returned from our honeymoon last Saturday. She told me it all. How she'd killed Turner. Why she killed her mother and Colonel Trefusis. Even about pushing Peg down the stairs. I swear I didn't know about that till then.”
“And about stealing money from church funds?”
“Yes, that too.”
“But he stood by me,” said Clarice, “because he's a good man. He loves me, don't you, Peter?”
“Yes. It's the worst thing I've ever had to do. Love you. I don't expect you to understand, Meredith. But she's sick.”
“And that justifies turning a blind eye to murder?” Meredith looked at him aghast. She had looked up to Peter Mortimer, but now she despised him for his weakness. “You're a man of God, Peter, and killing another is the ultimate sin. How can you even begin to ignore what she's done?”
“As I said, I don't expect you to understand.”
“So you're going to let Edith die. That's assuming she's still alive.” Meredith hoped that Edith had been drugged with a glass of milk, just as Clarice planned with Peter. If so, there might still be time to save her life. “And presumably you're going to let her kill me so I don't tell anyone. Where is it going to end?”
“It's going to end with this glass of milk,” he said.
“That's the coward's way out!” Meredith snapped. “For God's sake man, look at what she's brought you to.”
“She hasn't done it, Meredith. It was my choice. One I made last Saturday when she told me.”
All the time he was speaking, Clarice looked on triumphantly.
Meredith thought she heard a noise outside, but put it down to wishful thinking. There was no-one around at this time of night. She knew she had to keep talking, to give Drew time to arrive. Then they might at least be able to manage Clarice together until the police could be called. “Why, Clarice? Your mother, for a start. Why kill her?”
“She ruined my life,” said Clarice. “I had a father who adored me. He would do anything for me. And she got an attack of guilt and told him that he wasn't my father. That old fool Trefusis was.”
“I don't believe you. Oh I believe you killed her after she told the truth. But that wasn't the reason. Patterson wasn't a rich man, was he?”
“Oh very clever, Meredith,” said Clarice, her lip curling. It made her look ugly. “Very well, if you must. I deserve to have nice things. I'm beautiful. Everyone says so. And she hooked herself up to a bank clerk when my real father had thousands in the bank. Daddy … Albert Patterson … knew I'd done it, but he loved me enough to sacrifice his life for me.”
“But you've married a vicar. They don't earn much more.”
“I am capable of love, you know. Besides, vicars get other perks.”
Or, thought Meredith, maybe you're just getting too old to hook a richer man. “Like the collection box, and roof funds?”
“Exactly.”
“What about Trefusis? I suppose you told him you were his daughter.”
“Nope, I just played on an old man's vanity. Oh nothing untoward. I'm not into incest. But it's amazing what a man is willing to give away to a pretty young thing who hangs on his every word. He left me in his entire fortune.”
“Twenty thousand pounds. But it's all gone, I suppose.”
“I like to live well. And I would have been good after that, except that idiot Turner recognised me. I saw him looking at me in the carriage.”
“So when Jimmy left his knife on the table in the buffet car, you picked it up. I suppose when you went to fetch Edith a cup of tea.”
“That's correct,” said Clarice. “It was very clever of me.”
“But Turner had no proof you killed your mother. Why bother killing him?”
“Because mud sticks. If he'd gone around spouting that rubbish to anyone who would listen, everyone would have suspected me. Then out in the corridor, I heard him talking about Trefusis's death. He wasn't specific, but I knew the details. I told Peter what I'd done that night. I'd always promised to be honest with him.”
“And you were sure enough of him to know he wouldn't go to the police.”
“He wouldn't and he won't. He loves me. Then Edith found that letter. It's from an old friend in India, who heard I'd moved here. The blasted idiot.”
“So you're just going to go on killing? Until anyone who can identify you is dead.”
“I don't want to do it, but I have no choice. People just keep spoiling things for me. We were happy, weren’t we, darling?” Clarice turned to Peter. “Until that gossiping old policeman opened his big mouth.”
“If you leave here tonight, and they find three dead bodies in the morning, do you really think that no one will ask questions?”
“You're not that clever after all, are you, Meredith? What do you think the fireworks were for? It's a real tragedy. One accidentally went off in the vicarage, setting fire to it. You ran in to see if you could help, but were caught in the flames. There's only one survivor. She has to move away to escape her feelings of guilt.”
“Don't you love Peter, Clarice?”
Clarice wavered a little. “Of course I love him, but he's already on his way to not loving me anymore. I can see it in his eyes. I'd rather him die now, still loving me.”
“It isn't going to work, Clarice. My aunt knows I suspect you. She won't let my death go unpunished.”
“That foolish old woman, with her prattling and pretending to be senile. She didn't even realise I'd pushed her down the stairs.”
“She did. Perhaps she didn't know it was you, but she knew she'd been pushed. Drew will work it out too.” At the mention of Drew's name, Meredith's voice trembled. She prayed that he would get there soon. She was not sure how much longer she could keep Clarice talking. “He's neither old nor foolish.”
“Ah, young
love. It's a wonderful thing. He's not coming, Meredith. He came back here on his way to the hospital and I told him that we'd had a call to say that Bert had been taken to Hereford.”
Meredith wasn't sure if Clarice spoke the truth or not. Why would Drew have called back at the vicarage? “Did he, Peter?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Peter. “I'm afraid so. He needed money for the late train, and hadn't taken any with him.”
Trying hard not to burst into tears, Meredith held her chin up. It had been just over half an hour since she saw Drew. Hereford was an hour and a half away. He would still be on his way to the hospital and it would be at least two and a half hours before he returned. She spun around and tried to make a run for it, but Clarice caught her by the hair and dragged her back. “No, you don't!” Clarice's strength was surprising. Despite Meredith's best efforts, she could not break free. She was dragged to the sofa, and thrown onto it, jarring her elbow as she fell forward. Clarice pulled the scarf from around her neck, after which, she tied Meredith's hands.
“You're going to drink milk, like Peter,” said Clarice. “Then you won't feel a thing, I promise. Now stop struggling, you silly girl and ...”
The drawing room was flooded with light, and a voice said, “Let the young lady go.” From her awkward position, pushed face first into the sofa, Meredith was able to turn her head only slightly but it was enough to see several policeman standing by. They rushed forward and grabbed Clarice by the arms. She fought them like a tigress, but they eventually overpowered her. Meanwhile, Meredith felt strong hands undo her bonds.
“Meredith, darling!” It was Drew. When she was upright, she threw her arms around his neck, and held him tight, feeling as though she had just stepped off a boat after a week on a stormy sea.
“I thought you were in Hereford,” she said.
“That's what I hoped she would think,” he said. “But I'm not as stupid as Clarice thinks. I went to the cottage hospital first, and Bert was there. He's fine by the way. As soon as I knew that, I rushed back here. I happened to meet these policemen outside.”
“We were here to tell the vicar we'd found his car,” said one of the officers. “And that it had been used to run down the young man.”
“Edith!” cried Meredith. “I almost forgot. She's upstairs. I think she's been drugged.”
“It's alright, Miss,” said the officer. “We heard all that. Someone is up there with her now. The lady is unconscious, but we're bringing an ambulance. Sorry we didn't rush in sooner, but … well, you seemed to be doing very well at getting a confession out of Mrs. Mortimer. We didn't like to interrupt.”
“You were wonderful,” said Drew.
“Peter,” said Clarice, who had become calmer again. “Peter, you know I only confessed to save you, darling. Tell them the truth. About how you heard Turner's story and thought he was talking about me, even though I told him later he was being silly. So you stabbed him, didn't you, Peter? To protect me. Tell them. And the money from the church fund. You took it to keep me happy, didn't you, darling? Not that he had to. I told him that, officer.”
“Is any of what she says true, Reverend?” asked the officer.
Peter Mortimer appeared to think about it for a while, and it was as if time stood still whilst everyone awaited his answer. He finally shook his head. “No. None of it. She killed her mother. She killed Colonel Trefusis. Then last Saturday on the train, she killed Mr Turner, and stole the money.”
“Peter! Peter, how could you? They'll hang me for your crime. Do you really want that? Peter!” Clarice's voice rose to a screech, as the police took her away.
Chapter Ten
Peg and Meredith took a walk around the garden. “It is nice to be up and about again,” said Peg. “These weeks have flown by.”
“Yes,” said Meredith, thoughtfully.
“No word from Reverend Drew today.”
“He telephoned last night. He's tried to keep me informed, but you can imagine the ructions Reverend Mortimer has caused in the Church of England. They're telling the newspapers that he had a total nervous breakdown. It's the only way to explain his behaviour.”
“Poor man...”
“Do you think so?” asked Meredith. “I don't know, Aunty Peg. I understand that one can be so much in love with someone, you want to protect them. But she'd have gone on killing and he would have done nothing to stop her.”
“Oh but he couldn't have darling, even if he'd tried. Clarice believed that the moon and stars were put in place just for her. And she made others believe it too. She … well … I suppose she played God. Peter Mortimer fell so much in love with her, that he forgot his true God. The one he had been ordained to serve.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Look, there's Bert.”
Bert ambled across the road, and stood on the other side of the hedge. “Miss Bradbourne … Meredith … I’ve come to let you know that Mr. Somerville up at Bedlington Hall has offered me a job as his assistant in the woodwork department. I can live on site too. My own little flat above the garage.”
“That is wonderful news, Bert. Well done!”
“He says he'll sponsor me to get some proper qualifications. Become a real teacher, like.”
“Excellent!” Meredith smiled, genuinely happy for Bert.
“It's amazing, isn't it? He just turned up at the hospital and offered me a job. Just like that.”
“Stranger things happen at sea,” said Peg, mysteriously. Meredith saw her aunt look across the road. Betty and Jimmy were walking along hand in hand.
“I'd better go,” said Bert, when he noticed them.
“Hey, Bert, mate,” said Jimmy. He and Betty crossed the road to their friend. “Don't rush off. Look, we're okay, aren't we?” Jimmy held out his hand. “Because good mates are hard to come by. Betty explained to me how it was. How you took care of her, when I couldn't. I owe you for that. Besides, none of us have got family, except each other, and our baby's going to need an uncle he can trust.”
Bert took Jimmy's hand. “Mates for life, yeah?”
“Yes!” said Betty. She put her hand over theirs. “My two best lads, pals again. I couldn't be happier.”
“What are you to going to do now, Jimmy?” asked Meredith.
“We're sticking around Midchster. The vicarage needs a new gardener, and Edith Sanderson says she'll give me a trial,” said Jimmy. “I like flowers.” Judging by his tone he hadn't quite convinced himself of that, but he was obviously willing to try, for Betty and the baby's sake. “Old Edith says she wants the garden shipshape for when the new vicar arrives.”
“Did she say who it was going to be?” asked Peg.
“No. She says she doesn't know. Anyway, we'd best be going. Got to find somewhere to live. Come on, Bert. We're going to look at the flat over the post office. There's a spare room, for if you want to stay over.”
The three young people tripped off down the street together, and Meredith wiped away a stray tear. “It's good to see them friends again.”
“Oh Meredith,” Betty called back over her shoulder. “You will be godmother, won't you?”
Meredith waved and nodded. “Absolutely!”
Once again, Meredith was struggling with her suitcase at Stockport station, and cursing how many changes she had to make.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
“Drew!”
“Hello, darling. Where are you going?” He carried the suitcase up the steps for her.
“Home.”
“Oh.” His smile dropped.
“Why, where are you going?”
“To Midchester. I persuaded the powers that be to let me be the new vicar … but... well if you're going to be in Sheffield.”
“No, I told you. I'm on my way home. To Midchester. I only went back to Sheffield to fetch the rest of my things.”
“You've accepted the job at Bedlington Hall School?”
“Yes,” said Meredith, smiling. “I thought I'd rather teach girls who might go on to be brain
surgeons than girls who will only go on to host dinners cooked by downtrodden women like Edith, for the French Ambassador.”
“I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you're wonderful!”
They sat close together on the train, holding hands, as the hills of Shropshire came into view. “It's hard to believe this is where it all started?” she said, gesturing to the carriage. Luckily they had it to themselves. “Poor Mr Turner. He might have been a bit of a bore, but he'd served his country. In the police force and during the Great War. He deserved to die in his bed, peacefully. Not in the toilet compartment of a train with a knife through his heart.”
True Love Ways Page 9
