Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5)

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘Nor did she. Dorothy told Hawksley that her father was ill and she wanted to take Katherine up to see him. But he wouldn’t let her take his daughter, so she went up to Cumberland on her own. She didn’t go to visit her parents because her father was ill, she went to ask them if they would take her and Katherine in, because she was going to leave her husband. They said yes, but when she returned to the marital home, Hawksley had gone and taken Katherine with him. She had no idea where they were.

  ‘She went to the police and told them her husband had kidnapped their daughter. She told them that her parents had offered Katherine and herself a home, and that she wanted custody of Katherine.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They said they’d look into it. But Hawksley must have had a copper, if not several, in his pocket, because a week later they informed her that she would not be getting custody of Katherine due to complaints that Sir Gerald had previously made, about her drinking. While Dorothy Hawksley was in Cumberland, Hawksley had told the police that he feared for his daughter’s safety when his wife was drunk. He also said some of the men his wife took back to the house when he was away on business were unsavoury characters. He hadn’t seen them himself, he said, but friends of his had.’

  ‘She hadn’t taken men to the house, had she?’

  ‘No, but Hawksley provided the police with the names of several men who would swear in court that she had. He also had a doctor on his payroll who was willing to testify to Dorothy Hawksley’s excessive drinking. He must have been planning to get rid of her, one way or another, for some time. Not only had he made a statement to the police, he had consulted a solicitor. The accusations he made were in black and white. Dorothy Hawksley didn’t stand a chance of getting Katherine back.

  ‘At the time, he told the police that he’d had to leave the family home and go into hiding with his daughter, because he feared his wife would become aggressive - again - and harm Katherine. The bastard even said he hoped his wife would get help for her addiction, and would one day lead a normal and fulfilling life. But regrettably, he said, it would not be with him and his daughter.’

  Bess let out a long breath, blowing out her cheeks. ‘The poor woman.’

  ‘She employed a private investigating agency. They searched for months, but couldn’t find Hawksley and the girl. It was as if they had dropped off the edge of the world. The agency concluded that Hawksley had taken Katherine abroad. Dorothy was heartbroken. She believed that if she stayed in the house, even though it held the most awful memories for her, her daughter would know where she was and would one day come back to her.

  ‘Instead of Katherine coming back, two of her husband’s thugs turned up. They gave her a one-way train ticket home and a message; Leave by train now, or in a box later.’

  ‘How could Hawksley do that to the mother of his child?’

  ‘Dorothy said he was unhinged, and the higher he climbed up the fascist ladder the worse he became. She said if Hawksley didn’t get his own way, lost a business deal, or had a fall-out with someone in the fascist movement, he’d bubble up like a volcano. She said he never took it out on the person he was angry with at the time - he was too canny for that - he would wait until he got home and take it out on her. He beat her regularly, but he never laid a finger on Katherine.’

  Ena shook her head. ‘Dorothy wouldn’t have left Katherine with Hawksley when she visited her parents in Cumberland if she thought for a second he would harm her. He worshiped the child. It was Dorothy who he’d taken exception to. She told me that the only reason she took the train ticket that Hawksley’s goons had given her was because, if she hadn’t, they would have killed her - and she wouldn’t be any good to her daughter dead.

  ‘Dorothy Hawksley left the house that day in the clothes she stood up in. She had no money of her own, Hawksley had frittered away her inheritance. Once back in the north west she changed her name, got a job with a distant relative, and saved every penny she earned. Eventually she employed private investigators again. This time they found Hawksley and Katherine in London - and again when they moved to Kirby Marlow. Dorothy wrote to Katherine every week and sent birthday and Christmas presents. When Katherine didn’t reply, she knew Hawksley had intercepted the letters and Katherine hadn’t seen them. She kept writing to her daughter in the hopes that one day they would be reunited. From then on, whenever she took a holiday she stayed in the village or town nearest to Katherine’s boarding school.’

  ‘Did she ever see Katherine?’

  ‘Yes, several times, but she never told her who she was. It was enough for Dorothy to know her daughter was alive and safe.’

  ‘And Katherine believes her mother never wanted her, abandoned her when she was a child, and has since died.’

  ‘Yes. Dorothy didn’t know Hawksley had told Katherine she was dead. Until a few days ago, Dorothy’s plan was to introduce herself to Katherine on her twenty-first birthday.’

  ‘Because once she came of age, her father wouldn’t have control over her.’

  ‘Or his wife.’

  ‘Wife? Dorothy isn’t still married to the man, surely?’

  ‘She is. If Hawksley ever intended to divorce Dorothy, he didn’t go through with it. And she wouldn’t dare divorce him, because then he’d be able to find out where she lived. After all this time she’s still terrified of him. Which is why Henry and I think it’s best if she stays in Cumberland until Hawksley has been arrested.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘Sorry for rabbiting on. What was it that you wanted to tell me?’

  Bess looked down. She was still holding the programme from the Prince Albert Theatre in 1940. She showed it to Ena.

  ‘When we visited Margot she told us the baby’s name and Nancy said, that’s my mummy’s name. I thought nothing of it. I assumed her mother was called Natalie or Elizabeth. But in the early hours of the morning I was woken by a noise in the sitting room. I knew it could only be Nancy, so I got up and went in to her.

  ‘She had opened the bottom drawer of the old dresser and was looking at my photographs. She pointed to one that Bill had taken of Margot when she was an usherette at the theatre. I think Margot sent us all one.’ Ena nodded. ‘Anyway, Margot was standing with some of the dancers and Nancy said, “That’s my mummy.” And this is the dancer she pointed to.’ Bess gave the programme to Ena. ‘Margot’s friend, Goldie.’

  ‘Who Sutherland beat up and almost killed?’

  ‘Yes. And Maeve told me Nancy’s mother was dead.’

  ‘Which means, if Goldie is Nancy’s mother, Goldie is dead. Oh my God.’ Ena said, suddenly, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Henry saw Maeve at Sutherland’s funeral.’

  ‘He didn’t tell me.’

  ‘No, because the Vicar’s wife said that, as members of the congregation, she had asked Maeve and another woman to attend the funeral or there wouldn’t have been any witnesses to Sutherland’s passing.’

  ‘And Henry believed her?’

  ‘He had no reason not to.’

  ‘If Maeve is… was… Goldie’s cousin,’ Bess said, ‘I suppose she had more reason than most to want to see him buried.’

  ‘And more reason than most to want to see him dead,’ Ena added.

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Bess felt the need to defend Maeve, and herself for that matter. ‘I went to his funeral too. It was stupid of me, I know, but at the time I thought seeing him interred would give me some sort of closure. I expect that’s why Maeve was there.’

  ‘She could have killed him,’ Ena said. ‘She was working on New Year’s Eve.’

  Bess shook her head. ‘The only people Margot and I saw anywhere near where Sutherland’s body was found in the spring was Sutherland himself and Katherine. We spent quite some time down there; we’d have seen Maeve. Besides, she was on reception. She brought us tea and coffee when the police arrived, remember?’

  ‘Strange though, that she didn’t tell you she knew Sutherland,’ Ena said. ‘I bet she knew he was living at Hawksley
’s place in Kirby Marlow when she applied for the receptionist’s job here. Too much of a coincidence if she didn’t know.’

  ‘You’re probably right. She worked in communications somewhere near Kirby Marlow in the war and was billeted with the Reverend and his wife. She told me she came back to see them quite often, so it’s more than likely that they told her Sutherland was at Hawksley’s. And yes, it’s also likely that he’s the reason she came here for a job, but none of that makes her a murderer, so stop assuming the poor woman is guilty by association.’

  ‘Hasn’t she said anything to you about her sister and Sutherland?’ Ena asked.

  ‘Goldie was her cousin,’ Bess said, ‘but no she hasn’t mentioned a connection. She told me that her cousin, Nancy’s mother, had died. It was tragic the way she--’ Tears filled Bess’s eyes. ‘That man! That bloody, bloody, man!’ she shouted. ‘I have never wished anyone harm, but Sutherland? He was the damn devil! Will the hurt and destruction that evil man caused never end?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ‘Nancy?’ Donnie lifted his head from his hay basket, gave Bess a weary sideways glance and shifted his weight from one leg to the other making it clear she was disturbing him. ‘She’s not here eh, boy?’ Bess left the old pony in peace to eat his supper.

  ‘There you are,’ she said, seeing Frank and Nancy crossing the courtyard from the direction of the pigsty. ‘Your aunt Maeve has just telephoned, Nancy. I told her you’d call her back.’ Nancy ran into the hotel ahead of Bess.

  ‘I’ll check Donnie has fresh water, I’ll be in in a minute,’ Frank called after them.

  In the office, Bess offered Nancy her chair and when she was seated dialled the number that Maeve had given her. When the telephone was answered, Bess passed the receiver to Nancy and left. She hadn’t been in reception more than two minutes when Nancy peeped round the door and beamed a smile at her. Bess pretended to hurry back to the office to hear what Nancy’s aunt had to say. ‘Well?’

  ‘Aunt Maeve will be back tomorrow teatime,’ Nancy said, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

  ‘Then you had better fill in the last square, hadn’t you?’ Nancy collected her coloured crayons from the seat beneath the window and returned to Bess’s chair. ‘What colour are you going to use for today?’ Bess asked, taking the calendar down and placing it in front of the child.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Nancy shouted, ‘Red!’ And, concentrating, she began to fill in the square. When Frank came in, Nancy looked up and waved her crayon at him. ‘Aunt Maeve is coming home tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, that is good news,’ Frank said, looking from Nancy to Bess.

  ‘Done it!’ Nancy shouted.

  Moving to stand next to his wife, Frank looked down at the calendar. ‘That’s very good. You haven’t gone over the line once. We’ve got another budding artist in the family, Bess. I think we should buy Nancy pencils and drawing paper like we bought Aimee, don’t you?’

  Bess followed his gaze. The other squares had been lightly coloured in blue and green, yellow, orange and purple. The last square was a solid block of red, reminding Bess that Nancy’s aunt Maeve was the most important person in her life - and the nearest thing she had to a mother. It also reminded her that Nancy would be going home to Kirby Marlow the following day. ‘Excuse me,’ Bess said. And standing up she edged out from behind the desk and left the room.

  That night, as Bess had done every night when she put Nancy to bed, she read her a story. Halfway through she noticed the child had fallen asleep. Not wanting the time she had left with Nancy to end, Bess lowered her voice and read on. When she finished the chapter, Bess closed the book and put it on the rug at the side of the bed. Watching the little girl sleep, Bess thought of Aimee and the times she had read to her, either at Claire and Mitch’s house in Oxford, or when Aimee had stayed with her Grandparents at Foxden. Bess smiled to herself. Aimee would fight to stay awake, only giving in to sleep when her eyes grew so heavy she could no longer keep them open.

  Bess stood up and started to pack Nancy’s suitcase. Except for the nightdress she was wearing, and a clean set of clothes for the next day, every item of Nancy’s clothing had been washed and ironed. Folding her blue dress with the sailor collar brought back memories of Aimee’s birthday party and how she and Nancy had become friends. Bess made a mental note to ask Maeve to bring Nancy over when Aimee next visited. Huh! she sighed. That will be when they get back from Canada. Probably not until next year.

  Bess took the letter she’d received from Claire, which her sister had written the day they landed in Canada, from the mantle shelf. Mitch would be in hospital now, Bess thought. And taking the letter out of its envelope she wondered how he was responding to treatment.

  She flicked open the letter and began to read. “It was all such a rush in the end,” Claire wrote. “The Royal Canadian Air Force arranged everything. They flew us from France to Canada, with only a twenty-four-hour stopover in England to pick up our clothes and personal belongings. We expect to be in Canada for three months.”

  Three months felt like a long time. Bess had hoped with her brother Tom, his wife Annabel, and their daughter Charlotte coming to Foxden for Christmas this year, the whole family would be together for once. Three months, she sighed, would mean Claire, Mitch and Aimee would be in Canada for Christmas.

  Bess remembered Mitch saying the ‘Fall’ in Canada was similar to the autumns in England, but the winters were much harsher with lots of snow and the temperature below zero for much of the time. Bess hoped Claire had taken plenty of winter clothes for her and Aimee.

  She looked back at the letter. “From the apartment,” Claire went on to say, “where Aimee and I are living it’s a short bus ride to Mitch’s father and step-mother’s house. And the military hospital, which specialises in men who have suffered mental breakdowns after what they have seen or been through in the war, is a couple of stops further on in the city centre.

  “We took the bus to his father’s house this morning. Aimee stayed with Mitch’s step-mother and his father drove Mitch and I to the hospital in his car. The doctor said he was eager to start Mitch’s treatment, which would begin as soon as Mitch had been assessed. He didn’t say when that would be, so we’ll have to wait and see.”

  Bess was apprehensive. She wanted to know more, but until her sister wrote again there was nothing she could do except hope and pray, and wait.

  Bess put Claire’s letter back in the envelope and slipped it into her pocket. She hated the idea of her sister being so far away, but she knew if Claire and Mitch were ever going be happy again, Mitch needed to have specialist treatment. Claire was strong. All the Dudley girls were, but Bess had always thought of Claire as being the strongest of them. If being hospitalised in Canada was what it was going to take for her husband to recover from the mental torment he has been suffering since being in a POW camp in Germany, then Claire would deal with it. And, Bess thought, so would Aimee. Her niece was a Dudley girl through and through.

  Bess smoothed Nancy’s clothes with the palms of her hands and closed the suitcase.

  ‘Ena? Miss Hawksley?’ Astonished, Bess strode across the hall to meet them. ‘Won’t you come into the office?’ She looked at Jack as she passed. No words were exchanged. The young receptionist took a suitcase from Ena, and one from Katherine Hawksley, and pushed them up against the inside of the desk so they couldn’t be seen.

  ‘My father has been arrested,’ Katherine cried, as soon as Bess closed the door. ‘They took him away in handcuffs. That policeman from London and some other men.’ Katherine shot a look at Ena.

  ‘Henry and I were with them. Henry thought it best if I went along to take care of Katherine. Can she stay here?’

  ‘Of course. I’m so sorry, Katherine.’ Bess felt for the young girl. She wasn’t sorry that her father had been arrested, she was delighted about that; she was sorry that the fascist movement and everything associated with it had ruined Katherine’s life. What kind of man woul
d expose his daughter to that? ‘You look all in,’ Bess said to the trembling girl. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘I think it would be best if Katherine had a lie down,’ Ena said.

  ‘I’ll ask Jack if there’s a room at the back of the hotel. One that looks across the fields,’ Bess said, pointedly. She didn’t want Katherine looking out of the window and seeing the lake. After the arrest of her father, the poor girl didn’t need to be reminded that she was the last person to see David Sutherland alive - except for his killer. ‘I’ll see what we have vacant,’ Bess said, making for the door.

  ‘Hang on, Bess!’ Ena stopped her sister in her tracks. ‘My room is at the back of the hotel, and it has twin beds. Katherine could stay with me. That way if anyone comes looking for a guest who booked in today, there won’t be one.’

  Bess went out and asked Jack for the key to Ena’s room. ‘Except for Ena, no one but you and I, and Frank when he comes in, knows Miss Hawksley is staying here,’ she said. ‘And it must remain that way.’ With a sympathetic smile, Jack nodded slowly, assuring Bess that he understood. Bess took Ena’s room key into the office and gave it to her.

  ‘I’ll take Katherine up and stay with her until she’s settled,’ Ena said.

  Bess followed Ena and Katherine out of the office and into reception. As she stepped behind the desk, Jack picked up Katherine’s suitcases. ‘I’ll take these up, Mrs Donnelly,’ he said, making light of the cases as he swiftly crossed the marble hall ahead of Ena and Katherine.

  Jack returned as Frank and Nancy came in from feeding the animals. Apart from a little dirt on her shoes, Nancy was as clean as she had been when Bess dressed her that morning.

  Because it was important that no one knew Katherine Hawksley was staying at the hotel, Bess didn’t want to tell Frank in front of Nancy. If I’m being melodramatic it’s too bad, she thought, but an eight-year old child might innocently say a name, which, if overheard by the wrong people, could be disastrous.