by K. J. Frost
“Yes. Miss Watson said Beth used to get very upset when her father had to go away and, as a result, some of her studies suffered.”
“And yet, just before she died, she told Daniel Milton she wished she’d never trusted him.”
“It’s quite a turn-around, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.”
I’m deep in thought when a crash of furniture brings me to my senses.
“What the…?” I look around the room and see Inspector Styles being lifted to his feet by a couple of junior officers. “What’s happened?” I ask, going over to them.
“It’s nothing,” Styles answers, raising his hands. “I fell, that’s all.”
He looks as white as a sheet.
“Come into your office,” I say, then turn to one of the men. “Get him a cup of sweet tea, will you?” He nods and disappears.
Once Styles is sitting at his desk, I close the door behind me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he replies.
“And now I’ll have the truth, if that’s alright with you.”
He looks up at me, then sits back in his chair and lets his shoulders slump. “I’ve been getting these pains.”
“Where?”
“In my chest.”
“Have you seen a doctor?” I ask.
“No. I haven’t had time. I’m sure it’s just because I’m so tired.”
“And I’m not. You need to see a doctor.” Memories of my father’s refusal to admit there was anything wrong with him just before he had the heart attack that killed him filter into my head.
There’s a knock on the door and the man I sent to fetch the tea enters, bringing it with him.
“Drink that,” I tell Styles. “And go and see a doctor.”
He gives me a vague salute. “Yes, sir.”
I leave his office and go back out into the main room, just as Thompson comes in through the door.
“Any luck?” I ask him.
“Depends on your definition of the word,” he replies, coming over to where Ellis is sitting. “I found both the girls,” he adds. “Just as we suspected, they were at Kate’s parents’ house.”
“How did they react to the news?”
“They were upset.” That’s not very surprising.
“And did they remember seeing Janet with anyone from the RAF?” Ellis asks.
“No.”
I turn back to Thompson. “Were they able to give you the names of the young men they were with?”
“They didn’t need to,” he replies. “The men were there with them.”
Ellis smirks. “I suppose that saved you some time.”
“You could say that,” Thompson replies.
“Did the young men remember anything?” I ask.
“No. I think they were all engrossed with each other,” he says, sounding a little disappointed. I wonder if there’s something he’s not telling me, but I can’t mention it here because we agreed to say nothing about our discoveries in Janet Gibson’s bedroom.
I look down at Ellis. “Has anything else come in?” I ask.
“No, not yet.”
“Nothing from the doctor?”
“No, sir.”
“Right. Do we know if Mrs Middlemas is back from Gravesend yet?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, go round there anyway. If she’s not in, leave a card asking her to call us. If she is, find out from her what she knows about her daughter’s movements on Friday evening, and who she might have been meeting, and if Gloria had any links with RAF officers, and then when you’ve done that, you can go on to the school, to collect the records. Thompson and I will go to Cavendish House and see if we can get any sense out of Millicent Templeton. Failing that, we’ll telephone Mr Templeton at his office and ask him the same question.”
“Right, sir.”
“I want to nail this RAF connection,” I tell them both. “It’s the best lead we’ve got at the moment, so we need to keep on top of it.”
“Yes,” Thompson agrees.
Ellis gets to his feet and we all leave the office together.
“Tell me what’s bothering you,” I say to Thompson as I pull the car out of the police station and onto the London Road.
He lets out a sigh. “It was just Kate Pendry’s reaction.”
“What about it?”
“I broke it to them as gently as I could, knowing her relationship with the victim, and she cried, just like the other young woman, but it was obvious she wanted to sob her heart out, and she couldn’t, not in front of her friend and those two soldiers, not without explaining why. Pauline was very sympathetic and, as I was leaving, she whispered something to Kate, and then she shooed the two men out of the house, and went with them – like she knew Kate needed to be by herself. It was all really rather poignant.”
I think for a moment. “Remind me… What was Kate’s address?”
“Number Two, Summer Road,” he replies.
“Right. We’ll go there now.” I speed up a little. “With any luck, she’ll still be there – and she’ll still be alone.”
“Do you have some questions for her?” he asks, sounding confused.
“Not some… just one.”
It only takes about ten minutes to reach Summer Road and I pull up outside Miss Pendry’s house – a charming Victorian villa.
“Bring your briefcase,” I say to Thompson. He obeys my instruction and gets out of the car, following me up the short garden path to the front door. I knock and wait, but not for long, as the door is soon opened by a young woman, wearing dark grey trousers and a black sweater. Her red-rimmed, swollen eyes tell me she can’t have stopped crying since hearing the news.
“Miss Pendry?” She nods her head and swallows hard. “I’m Inspector Stone, from Scotland Yard. You met my colleague earlier.” She glances over my shoulder to Sergeant Thompson and raises her eyebrows in acknowledgement. “Do you mind if we come in, just for a moment. I promise we won’t stay long.”
She hesitates, and then stands to one side, allowing us access to the hallway.
“Do you want to sit down?” she offers, seeming nervous.
“No, that’s fine.” I look behind her. “Are you alone here?”
“Yes. My parents have both gone away for a couple of days. It’s their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, you see… Pauline’s staying here with me though.”
“I see.” I move a little closer to her and she steps back, nervously. “Can I ask why you chose to join the Wrens, Miss Pendry?” That wasn’t what I came here to ask, but I’m curious.
Her brow furrows, but clears quickly. “If you want the truth, it was to get away from here.” She looks around the hallway at the patterned carpet, walls dotted with framed etchings, and flowers arranged on a small table – the image of suburban domesticity – and a sneer forms on her face. “We used Pauline’s address,” she adds, lowering her voice, as though I hadn’t already worked that out for myself.
I nod my head and turn to Thompson. “Can you give me those papers?”
He stares at me for a moment, and then opens his briefcase, removing the documents he hid in there this morning.
“Miss Pendry,” I say, taking them from him and turning back towards her. “We carried out a search of Janet Gibson’s bedroom this morning.” Her face pales, but I continue, “We found some letters and photographs, and I was wondering whether you’d like to have them?”
I offer them to her and she looks up at me, then lets her eyes drop to the bundle of papers in my outstretched hand.
“My letters,” she whispers. “And the photographs…” She reaches out and takes them from me. There’s a moment’s silence and then she looks up at me again. “You’ve read them? You’ve seen the photographs?” I nod my head and she closes her eyes. “I got it so wrong,” she whispers, leaning against the wall and clutching the documents to her chest. “I––I thought if we got far enough away from here, it would be okay
… but it wasn’t. If anything, being in a strange town was even harder than being here, in this closed-off, backward little village. At least here, we knew everyone’s routines, and when it was safe for us to be together. But once we left, nothing was the same. We had to snatch our moments – and that’s how Pauline found out about us. She caught us together one afternoon when we thought there was no-one else around. She agreed to keep our secret, of course. She’s very open minded, is Pauline.” She attempts a smile, but doesn’t succeed, then continues, “My parents had been on at me for so long about finding a young man to settle down with, and I really hoped that getting away would make things easier on that front as well. But then they started writing. They wouldn’t leave me alone. I––It all got too much for me and I decided that maybe I should try and toe the line… forget what my heart wanted, what my head needed, and do what they and the rules demanded instead. I couldn’t see a future for me and Janet… not one that society would accept, so I told her. I told her how I felt, how much pressure I was under. I said that while we were back here on leave, I was going to see what it was like with a man…” Her voice fades, but she swallows down her tears. “She was devastated. She begged me not to. She said she didn’t care about the risk anymore, as long as we could be together. She said I shouldn’t listen to other people, that I should be true to myself and to her, and I should do what I wanted. I was the one who’d instigated our relationship, you see, I talked her into it… she said I was betraying her, betraying our love. She was right, of course, but I didn’t listen.” She looks up again and this time tears are falling down her cheeks. “I should have told them to go to hell,” she cries. “I broke her heart… her beautiful, loving heart. I saw the look in her eyes last night. She knew what was going to happen… And that’s why she went off with him…”
“Went off with who?” I ask, every nerve in my body on alert.
“That pilot.” She sobs and then sucks in a breath.
“But you said you hadn’t seen her with anyone,” Thompson points out, before I can.
She looks at him. “I know. I’m sorry about that. But I could hardly admit that I’d been watching her the whole time I was with Tom, could I? Not when he was standing right there.” She looks back at me again. “Is he the one who killed her?” she asks. “The RAF pilot, I mean?”
“We don’t know.” I let her calm herself. “Can you describe him?”
She thinks for a moment. “He was probably just under six feet tall,” she replies. “And he had dark hair, and a medium, sort of stocky build.”
“He didn’t have a moustache, or wear glasses?” I prompt.
“No.” She shakes her head.
“And you definitely saw them leave together?”
“Yes.”
“What time was this?”
She pauses. “About nine-thirty.” She blushes and looks down at the carpet. “Pauline had gone to the Ladies’ and I think Philip was at the bar. Tom and I were kissing, but then I saw them leave… Janet and the pilot, over Tom’s shoulder. The pilot was guiding her out of the door, his hand on her elbow.” She sobs again and looks up. “I assumed she’d done that to teach me a lesson… to show me that two could play at that game.” She averts her gaze again. “So, once we’d all finished our drinks, we came back here – knowing my parents were away – and stayed the night.” There’s a pause and I wonder if she’s going to say anything else. I’m just about to speak, when she says, “He was nice enough, I suppose, but I wish I hadn’t done it. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t bloody worth it… And I can’t take it back now, can I? I can’t tell her how sorry I am…” With that, she slides down the wall and lets out a howl. Thompson and I both step forward but I get to her first and lift her into my arms. Thompson leads the way and opens the first door on the right, which is the sitting room, where I place Kate on the sofa.
“Can we get you anything?” I crouch down beside her.
“No.” She shakes her head slowly. “I’ll be alright.”
She could have fooled me. I want to tell her that it isn’t her fault, because I don’t think it is, but I doubt she’d believe me, and my words would just seem like empty platitudes in the face of her loss. I take out one of my cards and write the Kingston telephone number on the back, handing it to her. “This is my telephone number at the Kingston police station,” I say, pointing it out to her, on the reverse of the card. “If you want to talk, call me.”
“You mean if I remember anything about last night?”
“No. I mean if you want to talk.”
She stares at me as though she’s seeing me for the first time. “I know you’re trying to be kind,” she says, raising her voice, “but let’s not pretend you approve, or even understand…”
“My approval or understanding are irrelevant.” I’m a little taken about by her change of tone, but I try not to let it show. “You’ve lost a friend, and…”
“She wasn’t my friend, she was my lover, for Christ’s sake. And you have no idea how this feels. No-one does.” The raw emotion in her voice takes my breath away.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “We’ll leave you alone now.”
She doesn’t respond, but settles down, hugging the documents to her chest still, and I give Thompson a nod of my head, signalling we should leave the room. There’s nothing more we can say or do here.
Thompson picks up his briefcase from the hall and we let ourselves out.
“I know she was angry at the end,” he says quietly as we close the garden gate behind us, “but you did a good thing there.”
“No. I just did the right thing.”
Even though I know that’s the truth, I have a feeling that the look of hurt and blame in her eyes is going to haunt me for some time.
It’s just before noon by the time we reach Cavendish House, but I feel like it should be late afternoon at least, I’m so tired.
I park outside Aunt Dotty’s out of habit and Thompson and I get out of the car and walk around to the Templeton house.
“Mr Templeton is available, if you’d prefer to see him,” Sarah says, in answer to my request to see his wife.
“Oh… yes I would.”
She stands to one side and takes our hats as we enter the house. “This way please,” she says, placing them on the hall table and showing us to the drawing room.
Templeton is standing by the fireplace and looks up as we’re announced.
“Stone?” he says.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry to trouble you.” I decide to get my apology in early, before he has the chance to complain. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”
“I’m going back to London after lunch,” he says. “But if you weren’t expecting to find me here, who were you expecting to find?”
“I was going to speak to your wife.”
“What about?” He takes a step closer, and raises his voice just slightly.
It’s easy to see that he’s not in the best of moods. Again. “We just have one simple question. And it’s nothing too taxing.”
“Then ask the question,” he snaps.
“We need to know whether your daughter had a connection with any RAF pilots or officers.”
He stares at me for a moment. “No,” he replies eventually. “As far as I know she didn’t. But, to be honest, you’d be better off directing that question to Amelie, when she comes in from work. Unless you want to go and see her at the factory?”
I shake my head. “No… that won’t be necessary. I’ll come and see her later on.”
He nods.
“We’ll leave you to have your lunch then, sir,” I say, and we let ourselves out of the room and back into the hallway.
It’s only once we’ve collected our hats and are outside on the driveway that Thompson speaks. “Is he always such a stuffed fish?” he asks.
“Yes. But to be fair, I suppose he hasn’t had an altogether easy life.”
“Didn’t you say he’d been having an affair?”
“
Yes.” I turn to look at him. “But you haven’t met his wife.”
He chuckles. “I see. Like that, is it?”
“Yes.”
We get back to the car.
“Shall we stop for some lunch?” I suggest.
“Where?”
“Here.” I nod my head towards Aunt Dotty’s house. “This is my Aunt Dorothy’s. I’m staying here.”
He looks up at the building, doubtfully. “Your Aunt Dorothy’s?” he replies. “What kind of reception am I likely to get?”
“I imagine a welcoming one,” I say quietly, then add, “No-one in my family knows about what happened with Victoria, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He nods his head, looking a little self-conscious. “Thank you,” he mutters.
I use my key and let us in, calling out a, “Hello,” as we enter. Aunt Dotty appears from the rear of the house, wearing her blue painting overall as usual.
“Hello, dear,” she says. “Oh… you’ve brought a friend.”
“Yes.” I’m still feeling uncertain as to the accuracy of that statement, but I can’t help smiling at her quaintness. “This is Harry Thompson. Harry… This is my Aunt Dorothy.” He steps forward and shakes her offered hand.
“I presume you work together?” she asks.
“Yes. I’m a sergeant at Kingston,” Thompson replies.
“And we’d like to cadge some lunch, if that’s okay?” I ask. “I don’t know about Harry, but I’m starving.”
“Well, you didn’t have any breakfast,” she says, guiding us into the sitting room. “I’ll go and see Ethel in a moment and get her to make you something.” She gives me a grin. “I suppose I can’t offer you a drink?”
“Dear God, no.” I turn towards Thompson. “If she ever offers you a drink and you’ve got anything to do afterwards, other than sleep, say ‘no’. Actually, unless you’re used to very strong liquor, it’s best to say ‘no’ anyway, just in case.”
Aunt Dotty rolls her eyes. “Honestly,” she mutters as she leaves the room. “The youth of today… no stamina.”
Thompson laughs. “This is a lovely house,” he says, looking round the room.
“Yes. Dotty moved down here at the beginning of the year. After Uncle Sam died, she didn’t want to live in London any more.”
