The Bockhampton Road Murders

by Pat Herbert

  The police had asked Henry about his father’s moods but, as the little boy was usually in bed by the time his father got home from work, he couldn’t really throw any light on the subject. He did say, however that his daddy was always happier when he took him out at weekends, but that didn’t lead the police anywhere except up a blind alley. And it seemed that, unless either the ‘pretty lady’ or the blood-stained poker turned up, the murder investigation was more or less at an impasse.

  

  The Freemans’ parish vicar, Reverend Bernard Paltoquet, was more concerned about the fate of their son than the identity of their murderer. He had become involved from the first, being the one to discover the bodies and on hand to console little Henry before he went to live with his maternal grandparents in Cambridge.

  Bernard had promised to visit the little boy as soon as he was settled in his new home, and so, on a cold, grey day in early March, several months after the murders, he arrived at Cambridge train station. He had been looking forward to meeting the grandparents, Mr and Mrs Maltravers, but had also been a little nervous. Would they know how to deal with such a traumatised child? he had wondered. But his fears were soon put to rest at the sight of the pleasant couple who, although in their early sixties, seemed at least ten years younger. They both ran up to him on the platform, waving as they approached. Alf Maltravers shook him firmly by the hand, while Winnie Maltravers hugged him and started to cry.

  “Sorry, Reverend,” said Alf with some embarrassment. “It doesn’t take much to set Winnie off these days. We’re still very much in shock over our daughter’s senseless death. And John’s too, of course. He was such a good, kind man. We were so happy when Carol told us they were getting married. He had a good job in the Civil Service, so we knew that she was set up for life. And when Henry came along we were so happy for them.”

  Alf was chatting away while they drove the two miles from Cambridge to Long Stanton where the couple had a small bungalow in a quiet cul-de-sac.

  “Where’s Henry now, by the way?” Bernard asked.

  “He’s at school. He’s just started at the local infants this week,” said Alf. “We kept him at home for a few months because we didn’t think he was up to being with other children yet. But we thought it was about time he had something like a normal life again. We’d hate to think he’d suffer because of what happened. He’s a bright little boy, and we think he’ll get over this terrible time once he’s settled in here.”

  “I’m so glad he’s going to school. And I’m sure he’ll be able to come to terms with the loss of his parents with you two to take care of him,” said Bernard.

  Winnie, who was sitting in the back of the car, started to cry again. “Thank you, Vicar. We do our best, but our house hasn’t been the happiest of places lately, and I’m afraid Henry must have felt this pretty badly. He cried himself to sleep night after night when he first came here, but we gave him the best Christmas we could and, since then, he has started to improve. They say that children are resilient, but can any child ever really get over the violent deaths of his parents? Especially when the poor little mite saw it all happen.”

  Bernard sincerely hoped that Henry was young enough to put it all behind him and grow up to be a well-balanced, contented human being. He said as much to Winnie and hoped it didn’t sound too glib. He trotted out platitudes to his parishioners when needed, often not knowing the answers himself, and sometimes not even believing in his own propaganda.

  When they reached home, Winnie took Bernard into the well-appointed kitchen and sat him down with a cup of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits.

  “Alf has gone to fetch Henry from school, so you’ll soon see if he’s made any progress since you last saw him. We hope we’re doing the right thing, sending him to school. He’s quite reserved these days, and I’m worried that he won’t make friends very easily.”

  “It’s bound to take him time to come out of his shell, Mrs Maltravers – ”

  “Winnie, please – ”

  “Winnie. And you must call me Bernard. Has Henry told you anything more about what happened?”

  “We haven’t ever brought the subject up. We feel it’s up to him to say if he wants to talk about it.”

  “Do you think you’re right not to encourage him to talk about it? I’m wondering if it would help him – it might get the horror out of his system more quickly. I’m not an expert, and you’re his grandparents and responsible for him, but it might be an idea to try and bring him out of himself.”

  Winnie sat down at the kitchen table and took her hanky from her apron pocket. As her tears started to fall, she looked imploringly into Bernard’s gentle eyes. “The truth is, Bernard, I’m being selfish. I don’t think I could stand to hear about what happened to my Carol, and I couldn’t bear to see Henry go through all that trauma again. It would break his little heart. He’s fragile enough as it is.”

  “I’m sorry, Winnie. You’re right, of course. I’m just an interfering old fool.”

  “Oh no, of course you’re not! I think you’re probably right and I should encourage Henry to talk about my Carol and John – not just about the murders, but about his relationship with them before that. I believe he’d be happy to remember the good times.” She dabbed at her eyes, but the tears still managed to escape down her cheeks.

  “Please try not to upset yourself so. Henry will be here soon, it wouldn’t be good for him to see you like this.” Bernard put his arm around her shoulders.

  “No, no. I always try to hide my sadness in front of Henry. He has enough to put up with as it is.” Winnie blew her nose as they heard the key turn in the lock. The little boy ran into the room and hugged his grandmother fondly. As he turned and saw Bernard, his little face screwed up and tears welled in his eyes.

  “Granny, please! Tell that man to go away. I don’t want to talk to him!”

  “But you remember Reverend Paltoquet, don’t you?” said Winnie. “He looked after you for a little while. You said you liked him.”

  The little boy looked at the vicar out of the side of his eyes. “I remember. He saw what happened. He thinks I killed them, but it was the pretty lady!”

  Bernard got up and went over to him, the last of his chocolate biscuits in his hand. “Of course, I don’t,” he said, “and, to prove it, I’m going to give you my last chocolate biscuit. There!”

  Henry took it from him slowly and began to munch.

  “What do you say to the kind man, Henry?” asked Winnie, watching him with amusement.

  “Thank you,” said Henry, through a mouthful of crumbs.

  19

  Henry finished the biscuit, all the while staring at Bernard. It was a truce of sorts, but the adults could see it was a precarious one. A word out of place at that moment could tip him over the edge.

  “Come on, Henry love,” Winnie said gently. “This gentleman is your friend. He only wants to comfort and help you now, if he can.”

  Henry’s tears had dried now, and the look on his face had changed from suspicion to curiosity.

  Bernard said, “Henry, would you like to go for a little walk with me round the garden?”

  “No!” Henry screamed. “No. Go away!” The chocolate biscuit hadn’t quite done the trick.

  “Look,” said Bernard, reaching into pocket. “I’ve got a nice sherbet sweet for you. Would you like it?”

  Henry blinked and looked at him. “Yes, please.” Bernard wondered if his grandparents were concerned he was bribing Henry with teeth-rotting sweets, but it was in a good cause.

  Bernard bent down to him and ruffled his hair. “Here you are,” he said, unwrapping the sweet and popping it in his mouth. “Come on, let’s go into the garden, shall we?”

  “All right,” said the boy. “Is it all right, Granny?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Winnie. “Now put this on and wrap this round you.”

  An extra layer of coat and scarf, and Henry was ready to go. Bernard held out his hand and the boy took it
without protest. It felt warm to the reverend’s touch. But tiny, frail. Bernard thought his heart would break.

  They walked among the carefully tended flowerbeds. Daffodils and narcissi were thriving, despite the cold March wind and, although the afternoon was overcast, a promise of spring was in the air. He sat the boy down on the bench by the greenhouse. Henry was calmer now and seemed content to be in his company.

  “How do you like your new school, Henry?” Bernard began.

  The child didn’t reply immediately but continued to suck on his sweet thoughtfully.

  Bernard persevered. “Have you made any friends yet?” he asked.

  This question seemed to animate him slightly. “I met a boy today called Trevor. He says he wants to be my best friend.”

  “That’s very good. I’m pleased,” said Bernard, smiling. “Is he a nice boy?”

  “I think so. He gave me his second-best marble. Look.” Henry pulled a large, multi-coloured, round piece of glass out of his trouser pocket and showed it to him proudly.

  Bernard admired it dutifully. He was relieved to see the little boy doing the things that little boys did. “Henry?” he said gently.

  The boy looked up from his marble. “I’m gonna give Trevor my Nigerian stamp in exchange. It’s a double.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be pleased. You’ll make good friends, you two.”

  “Yes, we will.” Henry put his marble back in his pocket and patted it gently.

  “Henry?” Bernard tried again. “What made you think that I thought you’d killed your parents?”

  Henry’s eyes began to brim with tears. Bernard gave him a hug.

  “I don’t want to upset you by making you talk about that terrible time again. But you know I never believed such a wicked thing of you, don’t you?”

  “I thought I did. But the lady told me that people will think I did it because she wasn’t a real person and they wouldn’t believe me.”

  “When did she tell you that?” Bernard was intrigued.

  “When I came into the room after she’d killed them. She was standing there with the poker in her hand. She was in a sort of mist, like not really there.”

  “Henry, do you mean like a ghost?”

  “I suppose so. She looked furry.”

  “Furry?”

  “Well, there was like a furry ring round her. She was dressed in a long frock, and her hair was all piled up on top of her head.”

  “Did she look like an old-fashioned lady? Like you sometimes see in history books?”

  “Sort of. She was pretty, but I didn’t like her.”

  “Had you ever seen her before?” Bernard asked. Henry was beginning to come out of his shell now, and he seemed to be at ease with the vicar, as they sat side by side in the garden. A few drops of rain began to fall, and Bernard took off his coat and wrapped it around the boy.

  “Yes. I’d seen her lots of times. Except she sometimes looked different.”

  “Different?” asked Bernard, unwrapping another sweet for Henry, as well as one for himself. “In what way?”

  “Just – different frock. Different hair.”

  “I see. Could there have been two pretty ladies?”

  “Two? No, I don’t think so. There were two little girls, though.”

  “Two little girls? What girls?”

  “Two little girls that were there all the time. They were dressed funnily too. They had lacy knickers on. They peeked out from under their frocks and they had curly hair. They were very pretty, and we played together lots. Well, until that lady told them they couldn’t have tea with me.”

  “So, the lady who you say killed your mummy and daddy was there before that day then?”

  “Oh yes, she and the girls had lived there for ever so long. Years and years and years, they said.”

  “Henry, did you ever think that, if that were so, why weren’t they any older?”

  “No. I never thought of that. I’m silly.”

  “Of course, you’re not, Henry. The reason they weren’t any older was because they were no longer living in the way we are. We get older all the time, but they had already died. They were the age they were when they died. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Henry’s little face was a picture of bewilderment. “I – I’m not sure. Sort of. They were haunting our house?”

  “Yes, Henry, I think so. Was the pretty lady their mother, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose so. They seemed to do what she told them and belong to her. But I never really saw them together. And they never spoke to her when I was in the room.”

  “I see. Henry, I believe this old-fashioned lady and the two little girls you played with were in your house because of something that happened to them there many years ago.”

  This was all too much for Henry and he returned to his marble. Bernard smiled. “I’m sorry, Henry, you mustn’t mind me. I get carried away. I read too many ghost stories.”

  Henry looked up at him with concern. “You needn’t worry. I was never afraid of them – well, not until that day.” Bernard could see that he was about to cry again.

  “Let’s get back to the house. It’s starting to rain quite hard now.”

  They raced back into the kitchen where Winnie had made them mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

  “You’ll stay to supper, Reverend?” asked Winnie, when they were sitting in front of the living room fire with their drinks. “Alf and I would love you to stay the night as well.”

  Bernard looked around the cosy room and at the two adults and small child. What a serene picture they made. No one would think, coming upon them now, of what manner of horror they had all lived, and were still living, through.

  “If it’s not too much trouble, I would be delighted to stay.” Bernard could smell the stew simmering on the stove, and he realised he was very hungry.

  Later, after supper, Bernard was sitting with Henry’s grandparents in front of the fire, a large brandy by his side. The boy had long since gone to bed.

  “I think Henry is a very bright little boy,” said Bernard.

  Winnie and Alf looked proud. “Oh, yes he is,” said Winnie eagerly. “His schoolteacher said so only last week. One of the brightest in her class, she said. Already, and he’s only been there a week.”

  “Yes, and I believe he’s telling the truth about what happened to Carol and John,” said Bernard. “He doesn’t quite understand, but I believe he’s beginning to, that their deaths were caused by something – ” he paused.

  “Something?” queried Alf, pouring him another brandy.

  “Something not of this Earth.”

  “Are you trying to say they were killed by a ghost?” Alf looked bewildered, Winnie less so.

  “I think you’re right, Bernard,” said Winnie. “I know you don’t believe in ghosts, Alf, but I do. And, anyway, what other explanation is there?”

  “Well, not ghosts, for God’s sake, pardon me, Vicar,” said Alf, grumpily. “A load of twaddle!”

  “So, would you prefer to believe your grandson is a liar?”

  “No, of course not. Just that he’s mistaken, that’s all. He was traumatised by what he saw.”

  “Well, if it wasn’t ghosts,” said Bernard calmly, “what or, rather, who do you think did kill them?”

  Alf shrugged. “I don’t know. A burglar caught in the act, probably.”

  Bernard sighed. “You’re probably right. It’s the more rational explanation, of course.”

  “Good,” said Alf, obviously satisfied he had got his point across. Bernard could see who ruled the roost in that household, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if Winnie wasn’t the one who got her own way most of the time.

  “Any more brandy in the bottle?” asked Bernard.

  Alf laughed and poured him another generous measure.

  PART THREE

  MILES & CROSBY CONTRACTORS LTD

  Wood Lane, Enfield

  Tel: Enfield 6401

  Mr B.
Allardyce

  18 Potters Way

  Stevenage, Hertfordshire

  15th January 1966

  Dear Mr Allardyce,

  This is to confirm your appointment as Site Supervisor for the project currently in progress at the Grenville site in Coldharbour Way, Earlsfield. We feel you are eminently suited to this role and have therefore agreed to the following:

  You will reside at 57 Bockhampton Road, Wandsworth, being a suitable domicile for yourself and your family and being within travelling distance of the Grenville site. Miles & Crosby will be responsible for paying the first three months’ rental, after which the responsibility will revert to yourself. If you then decide to remain in London after the project is finished, we will ensure that the property can be rented on to you afterwards. We would also hope that you remain in our employ as we have several more projects in the pipeline in the South West London area which we would like you to oversee.

  We will provide a car for you to travel to and from the site, and you may also use it for domestic purposes for as long as you are in our employ.

  In addition to the increase in salary (please see attached contract for details), you will also receive luncheon vouchers to the value of two shillings daily.

  Please read the enclosed contract carefully. Once you are satisfied with the conditions stipulated therein, please sign and date it, and return it to us in the s.a.e. provided.

  May we take this opportunity to wish you every success in this new venture you are undertaking with us. We are a rapidly expanding company and are pleased to promote staff who we feel deserve it. As a valued member of our team, therefore, we are pleased to offer you this opportunity, which we trust will give you job satisfaction and security for the foreseeable future.

  In the meantime, please do not hesitate to contact our Personnel Manager, Arthur Spinks, who will be happy to answer any queries or concerns you may have.