She entered the tiny office and stood while he came in behind her and closed the door.
“Please sit,” he said. He indicated the one chair behind the desk; the office was too small to accommodate any others.
“I think I would prefer to stand,” she said.
“As you wish, Miss Glynn. Now, I would simply like to ask you a few questions. As you no doubt have heard, a young girl was found murdered in the Sap Green Forest.”
“How do you know it was murder?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Wasn’t she hanged?” asked Coral.
“Yes, she was.”
“Then couldn’t it have been suicide?”
“No. Definitely not. We know it was murder.”
“How?”
“The evidence, the circumstances … I can be no more specific than that, I’m afraid. And five-year-old girls rarely take their own lives.”
“I see,” said Coral.
“She was found at a spot in the woods not far from Hart House. I understand you have been living there for some time?”
“Yes,” said Coral. “Until very recently.”
“How long have you been here, at the Swan?”
“Four or five days,” said Coral. “Since Monday.”
“May I ask why?”
“I am engaged to marry Major Hart, so of course we must live apart until the wedding.”
“Of course. And when will that be?”
“Next Saturday, I believe.”
“So soon! May I ask why?”
“We are eager to be married. We see no need to wait.”
“For how long have you been engaged?”
“A week—or two.”
“Can you be more precise, Miss Glynn?”
“Certainly, although I hardly see how it could matter. It was the day Mrs Hart died—no, the following day.”
“And how long have you known Major Hart?”
“What has that got to do with the girl in the woods?”
“These questions may seem odd to you, Miss Glynn—impolite, in fact—but I assure you that I must ask them. You are free to be silent if you prefer. I assume you have nothing to hide. Perhaps I am mistaken.”
“Of course I do not. I only wonder why you ask them.”
“You are a newcomer to our community, Miss Glynn. I am only trying to acquaint ourselves. Did you know Major Hart before you arrived at Hart House?”
“No.”
“And when was that?”
“I was there for about a month before Mrs Hart died.”
“Do you remember the date of your arrival?”
“It was the nineteenth of March.”
“And I assume you met Major Hart soon thereafter?”
“Yes. That same evening.”
“Very good. I understand you are a walker, Miss Glynn. Is that correct?”
“A walker?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I understand that you enjoy taking walks.”
“As much as anyone, I suppose.”
“Really? Mrs Prence told me you often went for walks.”
“Did she?”
“Indeed she did. She said you often walked in the Sap Green Forest.”
“I would not say often. Several times, perhaps.”
“Do you remember how many times?”
“Three or four times,” said Coral. “No more than that.”
“And given your abbreviated tenure at Hart House, would you not consider that often?”
“No, I would not. Occasional, perhaps, but not often.”
“Can you tell me, Miss Glynn, on these occasional walks of yours, did you see anyone or anything that appeared strange to you?”
“Strange?”
“Yes, strange. Out of the ordinary.”
“It would be hard for me to say what was ordinary in the woods, as I was unfamiliar with them.”
“I see your point. Did you see anyone while you were walking in the woods? Or near to them?”
Coral paused for a moment. “No,” she said. “I did not.”
“No one?”
“No one that I remember,” said Coral. “A dog, perhaps.”
“You saw a dog?”
“I said perhaps. Perhaps I saw a dog.”
“Very well. I have only a few more questions. For how long have you worked as a privately hired nurse, Miss Glynn?”
“Just a few years,” she said. “Since ’48.”
“I see. And how many patients, would you say, have you nursed in that time?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps six a year. Fifteen, sixteen, something like that.”
“And can you tell me, Miss Glynn, how many of those patients have died while receiving your care?”
“Well, all of the terminal patients have died. That is to be expected of terminal patients.”
“Like Mrs Hart?
“Yes,” said Coral. “She was a terminal patient.”
“Have you nursed any nonterminal patients, Miss Glynn?”
“Yes, I have. Several.”
“And have any of those patients died while being nursed by you?”
“No,” said Coral. “None. I am happy to tell you that they recovered.”
“And I am so happy to hear it,” said Inspector Hoke. “I am sure you are a very fine nurse.”
“I try my best to be,” said Coral.
“Well, I have no more questions for you at the present time, and I thank you very much for answering the ones I’ve asked. You’ve been most cooperative, Miss Glynn. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
The Inspector opened the door and motioned for her to pass through. “Ladies first,” he said, and smiled. “Oh, Miss Glynn…” he said as she passed him by.
“Yes?” She paused just outside the door.
“Will you and the Major be taking a wedding trip?”
“No,” said Coral. “At least, we have not planned one.”
“So you will be residing at Hart House after the wedding?”
“Yes, I will. We will.”
“Very good. I just want to make sure I know where to find you. If you do plan a wedding trip, please be certain to let me know. Is that asking too much?”
“We have no trip planned,” said Coral.
“You’d best wait for the summer weather,” he said, “and then take a proper holiday.”
* * *
She had breakfast in the dining room and then sat in the lounge, looking at pictures of horses in hunting magazines until she was sure the shops would be open.
Her entrance into Dalrymple’s Better Dresses was identical to the entrance she had made the previous morning: the bell jangled, the beads parted, and Mrs Henderson appeared. It was like stepping backwards, or sideways, in time.
“Oh,” Mrs Henderson said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” said Coral. “I am sorry about all the trouble yesterday.”
“Do you want the dress or not?”
“I said I was sorry about the trouble.”
“I am very sorry about it all as well.”
“I would like the dress,” said Coral. “I am getting married after all. There was just some difficulty yesterday…”
“Jitters,” said Mrs Henderson. “There are always jitters! They are a part of any wedding, my dear. I, myself, suffered terrible jitters when marrying Mr Henderson. I required a sedatival injection.”
“Can the dress be mended?” asked Coral. “I did not mean to tear it.”
“Of course you did not. You should not have attempted to put it on by yourself. I have already mended the seam. It is as good as new. Shall I wrap it up for you?”
“You needn’t do the box and everything,” said Coral.
“Nonsense! A dress does not leave Dalrymple’s without a box. I will have it ready for you in one moment.”
Mrs Henderson parted the beads and disappeared into the backroom. Coral
sat on the pouf at the centre of the room and looked out the front window into the High Street. Across the road, the sign in front of the newsagent’s read:
HANGED GIRL DEFILED?
MURDERER STILL AT LARGE
After a moment Mrs Henderson emerged with a box identical to the one she had presented to Coral the previous day.
“I hope you will be very happy in this beautiful dress, my dear. And if your jitters return, there is nothing more soothing than a hot bath and a glass of sherry. Enjoyed simultaneously, if possible.”
“Will you come to our wedding luncheon?” asked Coral.
“Your wedding luncheon!”
“It is on Saturday, at the Black Swan. It would mean so much to me for you to be there. You have been very kind to me, and I have no family or friends here…”
“Oh, you poor dear thing!” exclaimed Mrs Henderson. “Of course I shall come. I am moved beyond words. You say you have no family here?”
“I have no family anywhere,” said Coral.
“You poor child! It is too, too sad. But I have felt like your mother since the moment you first stepped in the door! That is why I found the unpleasantness so upsetting. Don’t move, my dear! I shall return in a flash!”
Mrs Henderson dove back through the beaded curtain and emerged a moment later with a small box wrapped in gold paper. “This is for you, my dear. A present for you—silk stockings, which have just arrived from Paris. You must wear them on Saturday with your dress. Silk, my dear, real silk!”
“Oh, I couldn’t accept them,” said Coral. “You’re too kind. It isn’t right.”
“Of course it’s right. I do not do wrong things. Take them and don’t say another word. Will you need help with the dress on Saturday?”
“A friend of Major Hart’s will help me, I think.”
“Well, if you need anything, or anyone, you must let me know. I will be there in a thrice. I’m so happy this has all worked out so nicely. I do so hate any unpleasantness where dresses are concerned.”
“Yes,” said Coral. “So do I.”
“Well, until Saturday, then. There’s nothing else you need—hat, gloves, shoes?”
“I am ready,” said Coral.
“And no more jitters!” cried Mrs Henderson. “I forbid them!” She leant forwards and embraced Coral. Coral felt her face pressed against Mrs Henderson’s plush bosom, smelt lavender and talc. Her own mother had not been the coddling kind, and physical affection—any affection, for that matter—was mysterious to her, like hearing foreigners speak their own language. She remembered how the man, the one with the rubber Johnny, had collapsed on top of her when he had depleted himself and mashed his wet mouth into her neck, like someone trying to eat something in the dark, rocking his body against hers like something being wound down; how he started to weep, all the while rocking, mouthing her neck, moaning, the juice leaking out of the rubber Johnny that shrivelled off his wilted penis, the cold, ugly dampness of his fluid on her thighs.
She clung for a moment to Mrs Henderson and then turned and hurried out the door, setting the bell pealing once again.
* * *
This is my mother, Florence Coppard,” Dolly announced when the two women had managed to squeeze themselves into Coral’s tiny room. “A marriage won’t be happy unless there’s weeping at the wedding, and Mother is a great weeper. You’ll weep, won’t you, Mother? You’ll weep for Coral?
“Yes, of course,” said Dolly’s mother. “I always weep at weddings.”
“This isn’t a church wedding, Mrs Coppard,” said Coral, who worried that Dolly’s mother’s sentimentality might be site-specific.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Dolly. “She’ll weep anywhere. Won’t you, Mother?”
Mrs Coppard allowed that she would, and said to call her Flossie.
“Sit down, Mother, over there on the bed, and stay out of the way.” Dolly pushed her mother towards the bed and turned towards Coral. “Now, have you bathed? What are you planning to do with your hair? Where’s your dress?”
“It’s in the wardrobe,” said Coral, electing to answer only one of Dolly’s many questions.
“Now, before we start, do you need a tipple, darling? You’re shaking like a leaf. Nerves! Have you got your flask in your bag, Mother?”
“Course I have.” Mrs Coppard opened her bag and withdrew a silver flask, which she handed to her daughter.
Dolly unscrewed the cap, which was attached to the bottle with a thin silver chain, and held it towards Coral.
“No, thank you,” said Coral.
“You haven’t got nerves! I’ve got nerves, and I’m only the bridesmaid.”
“The witness,” said Coral.
“It’s the same thing,” said Dolly. “Have a tipple.”
“I’m fine,” said Coral. “I just need help doing up the dress.”
“Would you like a tipple, Mother?”
“I might as well,” said Mrs Coppard, reaching out for the flask. She took a dainty sip and then stowed the flask back in her bag.
“Time for the dress!” announced Dolly. “It’s in here?” She indicated the wardrobe.
“Yes,” said Coral.
Dolly opened the wardrobe. “Oh, you shouldn’t have hung it on such a cheap hanger. Look, Mother, she’s hung her lovely wedding dress on a cheap hanger.”
“Well, it’s her dress, my dear. I suppose she can do whatever she wants with it.”
“Oh, Coral, it’s beautiful!” exclaimed Dolly. “It isn’t the one I thought at all.”
Coral opened the top drawer of the dresser and removed the small package wrapped in gold paper. “I’ve got these as well,” she timidly said.
“Got what?” asked Dolly.
“Stockings,” said Coral. “Mrs Henderson gave them to me. As a gift. They’re silk.”
“Silk! Real silk?”
“Yes,” said Coral. “From Paris.”
“I suppose she wants to get on your good side,” said Dolly, “seeing how you’re marrying Clement. She thinks you’ll be buying lots of dresses and doesn’t want you going up to London for them.”
“I invited her to the luncheon,” said Coral.
“Mrs Henderson?”
“Yes. And the boy at the flower shop.”
“Does Clement know you invited them?”
“Yes,” said Coral. “He said I might invite whomever I wanted. Since he invited you and Robin.”
“Well, we’re your witnesses, darling, of course we’re invited to the luncheon. It’s not even a question of inviting. But it’s a bit odd to invite tradespeople, wouldn’t you agree?”
“It might seem odd to you,” said Coral, “but it is not odd to me.”
“Well, fancy Mrs Henderson making you a gift of silk stockings. Perhaps it’s a tradition. What’s the poem, Mother? ‘Something bothered, something blue, a wedding gift from me to you’?”
“I don’t think that’s quite it,” said Mrs Coppard. “It’s certainly not ‘bothered.’ Why would you give a bride something bothered?”
“Words meant different things back then,” explained Dolly. “Like ‘cudgel.’”
“Cudgel? What’s cudgel?”
“It used to be a fish, I think. Some sort of eel. But now it’s something else. Or now it’s an eel and before it was something else. Words change. ‘Bothered’ used to mean something handmade, I think. Something you bothered over.”
“I think it’s ‘borrowed,’” said Mrs Coppard.
“It’s not,” said Dolly. “It’s bothered. ‘Borrowed’ makes no sense at all. You can’t give something borrowed.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Mrs Coppard.
“Why must you always contradict me, Mother?”
“I don’t always contradict you, my dear, only often, and that’s because you’re so often wrong.” Mrs Coppard opened her bag and rummaged in it, extracting the flask.
“No more tipples, Mother, it makes you disagreeable.”
“Those who speak th
e truth are always thought disagreeable,” philosophised Mrs Coppard. She helped herself and then held the flask out towards Coral. “Tempt you, my dear?” she asked.
“She doesn’t want any!” cried Dolly. “Put it away, Mother, and sit quietly, or we’ll send you down to the lounge.”
“At least I could get a proper drink down there.”
“No you couldn’t,” said Dolly, “since the bar doesn’t open until noon.”
Coral, who saw no end to this discussion, said, “Perhaps it would be better.”
“What?” asked Dolly. “Perhaps what?”
“If your mother— It’s only that it’s a tiny room, and with all of us in it … perhaps it would be better if she went down to the lounge. I’m sure they’d give her a drink if she asked.”
“Of course, darling,” said Dolly. “Did you hear that, Mother? Coral wants you to go down to the lounge. It’s too crowded in here.”
“No, it’s not that—it’s just that I thought she might be more comfortable…”
“Don’t say another word,” said Mrs Coppard. “It wasn’t my idea to come. Dolly thought that as you hadn’t got a mother, I might be a comfort to you, but if I’m in your way, I’ll make myself scarce.”
“It was lovely of you to come, Mrs Coppard, it’s only that I’d like to be alone with Dolly for a moment.”
It took awhile for Mrs Coppard to arise and collect her things, as she had settled herself quite completely upon the bed. When she had righted and reassembled herself, she kissed Coral and said, “I wish you all the happiness in the world, my dear,” and left the room.
As soon as she was gone, Coral held her hands to her face and began to cry.
“Darling!” said Dolly. “What’s wrong? Sit down here on the bed. Go on, sit.” She pushed Coral towards the bed and then down upon it, and sat beside her. “What’s wrong, darling? Do you want a tipple? Should I go get Mother’s flask?”
Coral shook her head and then wiped the tears away from her eyes with her hands. “Oh, Dolly!” she cried.
“What? What is it, Coral? Tell me, darling.”
“I don’t know what to do,” said Coral.
“Do you have doubts, darling? Jitters? Every girl has them. You oughtn’t worry, even if it does all seem too ghastly for words, I promise you it isn’t at all—”
“No,” said Coral. “It isn’t that.”
“Then what is it, darling? Tell me.”
Coral Glynn Page 10
