The Convalescent Corpse

by Nicola Slade

  ‘You’re right, I concede the point. Our whole family is odd.’ With Alix on the step we were level for the moment so we leaned forward till our heads rested together briefly in an uncharacteristic display of affection. ‘Thank God we have each other, Alix; it’s overwhelming sometimes, isn’t it. I do worry about Addy. Apart from Granny we’re all she’s got, and she is eccentric, whatever we say. What on earth is to become of her?’

  Friday, 15th March

  Alix and I had another of those brief, frustrating discussions about Lt Trevelyan’s death and my probably irrational suspicions but came to no conclusion. Despite my worries, a surprisingly peaceful night restored my courage and I decided to make the most of the present rather than speculating about the fate of our fly-by-night parent or chasing that elusive ‘something’ that wouldn’t go away whenever I thought about the poor young officer. On balance I think I’d rather worry about the war than wonder whether Papa might still be alive and lurking somewhere up to no good. As for the threatened appearance of a London lawyer bent on causing trouble, I would deal with that when it happened. I was too busy to think about it now.

  The two maids arrived bright and early on Friday morning, with Bella ready to scrub, dust, polish and generally take on the world. ‘I’m going to wash all the windows, Miss Christy. The sun’s shining through and the dirt has to be seen to be believed.’

  Thank the Lord for a cheerful woman. I gave Bella’s shoulder a grateful squeeze and discovered that her little sister was just as bouncy. Young Penny was eager to show off her newly-acquired parlour maid skills and to hang around Mrs Peebles in the hope of learning more tricks of the lady’s maid trade, so that was the bulk of the day’s domestic tasks covered.

  Further blessings rained down on the house when Addy emerged from our dining-room and informed Granny and me that Miss Evershed proposed to take her new pupil out to luncheon.

  ‘I have some errands to run,’ the schoolmistress explained. ‘Addy will be company and I’ve asked her to show me the town. It’ll be good practice for her to describe the sights and to discuss local history in a lucid manner. Every girl should learn the art of conversation and clear thinking. It will assist her to set down her ideas logically during her examinations. There is an art, too, to suiting one’s discourse to one’s audience. Adelaide must study that as well.’

  ‘It’s just us then, Granny,’ I said as I went to check the larder. ‘I’m off to town as well. I should bank some of the rent money from the lodgers. I don’t like having so much cash in the house.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ she said. ‘I always feel a warm glow at the notion of hard cash in the bank and at least we don’t have to worry about your father taking the money. Ah, I nearly forgot. Fetch me those bones that the butcher gave Addy, please.’

  ‘What are you planning to do with them? I see you’ve only let the dog have one.’

  ‘There’s a fair amount of meat on them and marrow too,’ Granny replied. ‘I’ll take off what I can and make a cottage pie, as well as soup. Keep an eye out for vegetables when you’re in town or it’ll be turnip crumble again.’ This was one of Granny’s wry jokes, harking back to a week when a glut of turnips had meant – as Addy declared – turnips for every meal, including turnip crumble. (It wasn’t quite that bad but turnip had featured prominently on the menu.)

  I came home laden with spoils in the shape of compliments from the bank manager when I paid in most of the rent money. He quickly concealed his surprise but was generous with his praise. I also had a sack of carrots from the farmer just up the road from us. I didn’t even have to carry them myself,

  ‘I’ll send them down later today but you’ll need to use them up quick, Miss Christy,’ he warned when I met him at the market. ‘They’ve overwintered and they’re on their last legs, so to speak. I’ll throw in a cabbage or two, as it’s you.’ His eyes were sad and I knew he was thinking of his youngest son, Bertie’s childhood playmate, who had died at Passchendaele.

  He lingered for a few minutes, taking a kindly interest in our welfare and I knew that, just for a moment, he could still feel a link with his boy so I felt guilty when I was distracted by the sight of a burly man in a dark overcoat. There was silver hair showing beneath a dark hat and he was jotting down the times of the omnibus for Winchester. I don’t know what it was that made me stare for I only saw his back view and then he disappeared into the crowd.

  The vegetable largesse made up for an apology from the fishmonger.

  ‘I’m that sorry, Miss,’ he said. ‘There’s not a fish left in my shop and on a Friday, too. What I had was on the turn and in all decency I can’t give it away, let alone sell it. It’s not even fit for your cats.’

  He took pity on me and offered three tins of sardines instead so I thanked him and decided we could make a fish paté for a savoury in the near future.

  The sack of carrots arrived during luncheon, augmented by three large cabbages and some leeks as well as parsnips which were also at their last gasp. Granny and I used up some of the vegetables, peeling, chopping, grating and boiling as we made soup, steamed carrot puddings and creamed parsnips. Granny assembled a huge vegetable casserole as well. Luckily our north-facing larder is like the arctic, what with the marble slab and the freezing blast that blows through the airbrick. At least we can guarantee that meals cooked ahead will stay fresh for several days, a great saving in time and money.

  The butcher, whose shop was just over the bridge from us, had indeed been very generous with the beef bones he gave Addy, so I also made consommé and hoped the lodgers would be impressed tonight by a three-course dinner for a change. It was after three o’clock and I was just heaping mashed potato on tonight’s two cottage pies and hoping the generous quantity of vegetables would make up for the skimpy pickings from the dog’s marrow bones, when Addy bounced into the kitchen, followed by Henry.

  ‘Miss Evershed’s gone up to her room,’ she announced. ‘Can I take her a cup of tea before she goes up to the Hall?’

  ‘May you,’ Granny and I said in unison and exchanged a grin at Addy’s sniff of disdain.

  ‘I’ve had a simply ripping time,’ she went on. ‘I’ll tell you all about it but Henry’s got a present for you and I’m dying to see what it is. We met him by the bridge and walked up together.’

  ‘It’s from Cousin Bertha,’ he said bashfully, setting a brown paper parcel on the table. ‘She was so interested to hear about you and your lodgers yesterday and she thinks you’re wonderfully brave.’

  ‘Brave?’

  He chuckled at my expression. ‘I might have laid it on a bit, but… but you are brave, all of you. Anyway, Cousin Bertha has sent you this month’s Home Chat magazine because there’s a section all about wartime cookery that she thought you might find useful. And,’ – he unknotted the string and opened up the parcel – ‘she was awfully worried that you might be offended but she can’t bear to think of young girls not having anything new for Spring so she’s sent you some trimmings that she says she had by her. She was so sorry it’s not more.’ He glanced anxiously at Granny who gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder when she came to look.

  ‘Goodness!’ The short note from Miss Makepeace hoped we would find a use for the enclosed trimmings. ‘Look, Granny, ribbons and lace and a card of pearl buttons too. How splendid. You can’t get this in the shops now. I’ll write straightaway to thank her.’

  While the others exclaimed over the parcel, I looked hopefully at Henry. ‘It’s all right,’ he said quietly, ‘Addy’s stray dog isn’t going anywhere. Cousin Edgar thinks I’ll make a go of it so I’m to start my training as soon as I pass my Medical Board. To begin with I’ll need to catch up, as I’ve been away from the law for two years. Edgar and Cousin Bertha have invited me to stay with them while I get my bearings.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ I said, squeezing his hand.

  It was peaceful in the kitchen after the orgy of cooking. Mother was upstairs, lost in another world and throwing her heroine
into the willing arms of the Reverend Montagu Wroxeter. Granny was reading in her room, and Addy was in the dining-room doing her homework for Miss Evershed who had reluctantly departed for the Hall.

  Our youngest employee, Penny, willingly agreed to deliver my letter of thanks to Miss Makepeace, Henry’s Cousin Bertha, on a roundabout journey home to help her mother for the afternoon. I gave her sixpence for her trouble which delighted her but she was worth it, and already proving a great help.

  Henry insisted he was not expected up at the Hall until after visiting time, so he and I sat beside the range, toasting our toes. He had brought home his Cousin Edgar’s copy of yesterday’s Times and read out snippets of news until I begged him to stop. ‘I don’t want to hear about the war,’ I explained crossly as I sat darning Grandpapa’s last decent pair of socks so that Granny could wear them inside her boots on cold, wet days. ‘If Granny had been given charge of Kaiser Bill, things would be different.’

  ‘The hen?’ Henry looked puzzled so I gave him a chilly stare.

  ‘The Emperor, of course.’

  Talk moved on to Addy’s escapade at the butcher’s shop.

  ‘All she really wants to do is investigate dead bodies to ascertain the cause of death,’ I said despairingly. ‘Nobody will ever let a young girl do that, it’ll be considered unladylike unless the War has changed everything. And even so, she’ll still need to train as a doctor.’

  ‘Is that so out of the question?’ Henry looked up from the paper.

  ‘I suppose we might manage it somehow,’ I sighed. ‘It’s not just the money though, it’s Addy herself. You really ought to be kind and thoughtful, with a modicum of tact, if you’re to be a doctor. Addy’s bedside manner is about as sympathetic as Kaiser Bill’s.’

  ‘The Emperor?’ He looked even more puzzled.

  ‘The hen, silly. Do keep up, Henry.’

  At that moment Addy appeared dressed in her outdoor things. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it was just on half-past four. What a good job the dinner was in hand for I had quite forgotten about it.

  ‘I’m going to walk up and meet Miss Evershed,’ Addy announced, heading for the back door.

  ‘If you wait half an hour,’ Henry offered. ‘I’ll walk up with you.’

  She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’m going across the park to the river to see if the swans have begun nesting this year. It means climbing a stile and it’s rough walking, so you’d better not.’

  ‘Well, that’s told me,’ he said as she banged the back door behind her. ‘Don’t look like that, Christabel,’ he said. ‘I’d be a poor thing if I let Addy upset me.’

  I changed the subject. ‘Has there been any talk about Lt Trevelyan’s death?’

  ‘Not really. I think one or two of the chaps might have thought it unexpected, as I did, and there was a bit of chat about it last night after the party: who was up and about early on Monday morning, but what could we say?’

  ‘Who was up and about?’ I asked, trying not to seem too eager. ‘Does it matter?’ He frowned, then shook his head. ‘Nobody owned up to being awake, though Larking harrumphed a bit and poor Halliday just looked blank, which is nothing new. Major Peebles, whose bed was in the bay with Trevelyan’s, caught my eye during the discussion, such as it was. We said nothing but I suspect he had the same idea, that someone helped the poor chap out of it. It won’t have been him, it’s a standing joke that he snores all night long! He just raised his eyebrow and I shrugged and that was it. I like him, he’s a shrewd old fellow.’

  ‘I like his wife too,’ I smiled. ‘She’s also pretty shrewd.’ The grandfather clock in the hall wheezed out the hour and I jumped. ‘Heavens, is that the time?’

  ‘I’d better head up the hill,’ Henry grumbled. ‘Pity, it’s so snug in here. Is it too cold for you to walk up with me? Bobs won’t object.’

  ‘Let me put the cottage pies in the oven,’ I said. ‘The vegetables are ready to cook and Granny’s made individual blancmanges in her little moulds, so I can take twenty minutes. The consommé won’t take long to reheat and I’ve cut a pancake into thin strips to put in it. That was Grandpapa’s sole contribution to the art of cookery; an Austrian friend of his introduced him to the recipe. Not that Grandpapa ever did anything practical or domestic, naturally. That was women’s work.’

  ‘Three courses?’ Henry admired the shepherds’ pies. ‘I hope your lady lodgers appreciate such munificence.’

  The dog was delighted to accompany us and I let him gallop up the hill while Henry and I followed more slowly.

  ‘Poor old Bobs.’ I felt guilty. ‘He’s only had a short walk today. Granny took him down to the bakery by the station and he had to stay on the lead. If it’s a fine day tomorrow, perhaps we could take him for a decent outing.’

  Henry was about to answer when we heard a shout.

  ‘Miss Christy, Miss Christy, come quick.’

  The dishevelled figure running down the hill had tears running down his cheeks and his mouth in a wide O of distress. It was Nigel – Niggle, rather – brother to our two maids.

  ‘What is it?’ I ran towards him and took one of his shaking hands. ‘Hush, now, it’s all right. Calm down and tell me.’

  Henry limped anxiously after me. ‘Can I help, Christy?’

  I waved him away and took the young gardener’s other hand. ‘Just a minute,’ I called. ‘It’s all right, Niggle, hush now – you’re quite safe. Whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘Miss Addy told me to run and find you, Miss Christy,’ he gasped, but he was breathing more steadily now. ‘There’s something nasty in the ha-ha. She said to come quick!’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I’ll see to it, don’t worry.’ Henry had caught up with me so I sent the shivering lad down to our house. ‘Go and tell my granny all about it,’ I told him. ‘She’ll give you a cup of cocoa and something to eat. Off you go, there’s a good boy.’

  As he ran past Henry on the path, he straightened his skinny shoulders and snapped off a salute, which Henry returned before arriving at my side.

  ‘What do you suppose all that’s about?’

  ‘No idea, he does get in a state, but I’ve never seen him quite so scared. We’d better go and find Addy.’

  We hurried up the hill, Henry keeping pace with me very well, considering the state of his wounded leg. I worried whether he was overdoing it but he brushed aside my concern.

  ‘Never mind that, what about that poor chap? You said it was shell shock?

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ I sighed. ‘He should never have been sent to the Front, it was criminal. He’s gentle and sweet but he goes at his own pace, poor dear. Did I tell you that he’d been trapped under a wall when a barn was shelled? He can’t bear to be indoors for very long so all the neighbours are kind and give him outside jobs. Today is one of his days up at the Hall.’

  By now we’d reached the ha-ha that formed the boundary between the garden at Groom Hall and the woods and small park that surrounded it. A plank bridge spanned the muddy ditch, and below it…

  ‘Oh, good heavens! Addy?’ I was panting as I slithered down the steep bank, shouting an urgent warning to Henry to watch his step.

  My sister Addy, in floods of tears, and yet again with ominous splashes of blood all over her blouse, was kneeling in the mud as she tried to support a limp and bedraggled body in her arms.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  I slid to a halt and wrapped my arms round her.

  ‘Addy? Dearest Addy, you’re safe, I’m here.’ I looked up to the bank and called out to Henry.

  ‘Fetch Dr Pemberton, please. Hold on…Wait… what is it, Addy?’

  ‘She’s trying to say something.’ Addy’s tears dripped on to her blouse as she bent over the woman whom I now recognised as Judith Evershed.

  ‘She’s still alive?’ I knelt in the mud and felt for a pulse. ‘Good Lord, you’re right. I thought all that blood on your blouse…’

  The faintest
whisper reached me from the pale lips and I bent again to ask, ‘What is it, Miss… Judith?’

  ‘Your house. Not hospital…’ With that she sank into unconsciousness and Addy stared at me with fear in her eyes.

  ‘Do as she says, Christy, please. I said just now that we’d get her up to the Hall and she was very agitated. Please, Christy, I’m frightened.’

  I hesitated but Addy was white with terror and Judith Evershed’s whispered request had been… disturbing. I made my decision.

  ‘Henry,’ I called again. ‘Please ask Dr Pemberton to come here and to bring a stretcher and two men to carry it. And try to get a message to…’ The small anxious face of our youngest maid peered round Henry’s shoulder. ‘Penny? Is that you? What on earth are you… oh, never mind. Run down to tell Lady Elspeth that we’re bringing Miss Evershed to our house and ask Bella to make up a bed in the dining-room for tonight. Off you go, there’s a good girl.’

  I checked poor Miss Evershed for injuries and discovered that she had no broken bones as far as I could tell. By some miracle she had landed with her head out of the water. I must remember to ask Addy how she was lying when she was found, but at least, being half drowned wasn’t one of her problems.

  There was movement in her arms and legs and I realised that all the blood was coming from the back of her head. Choking back her sobs, Addy warned me. ‘Her head, Christy, mind her poor head.’ When I raised Miss Evershed a little I cried out at the sight of the wound.

  ‘How could she have hurt her head like this if she fell off the bridge on to mud,’ I gasped, but broke off as Addy clutched frantically at my hand.

  ‘Christy? Is she going to die?’

  ‘I don’t think so, darling,’ I whispered and prayed that I might be proved right.

  In a remarkably short time we were joined by two of the orderlies from Groom Hall who manoeuvred Miss Evershed on to a stretcher and, shooing aside a crowd of anxious or curious onlookers, took their cue from me and headed down to our house. I scrambled out of the ditch and made Addy go with them.