Apportionment of Blame (19 page)

We ate in silence for a short time, while I considered whether I should say anything further. I kept my eyes focussed on my plate, all the while aware that Joyce was observing me from across the table. She was waiting for me to say more, and I wasn't sure what more I should say.

“This isn't the time or place.” I said eventually. “You're quite right. I have to get this mystery solved, and I believe I will solve it. But when it's done, perhaps we could go out.”

“What do you think we're doing now?” she said.

“You know what I mean. A proper date, not just a meeting to hear an update of what I am doing.”

Now she put down her knife and fork and looked at me hard.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited for you to ask me out?”

I was stunned.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, you idiot.”

Now it was time for me to go quiet.

“Why do you think I took a teaching post in the Midlands rather than staying round here to teach?”

“Not because of me?”

“Yes, because of you. I assumed you weren't interested, but I was crazy about you and I didn't want to risk us meeting constantly, feeling the way I did.”

“I had no idea.”

“Obviously.”

“You could have gone out with anyone. Fellers were falling over each other to get close to you.”

“I know, but I wasn't interested.”

“This is so funny. Are you serious?”

“I don't joke about things like this.”

I just looked at her, my fork now poised between plate and mouth.

“Well go on, then.”

“What?”

“Ask me out.”

I felt like a shy thirteen year old. This was so ridiculous. Or perhaps it wasn't.

“Will you go out with me?”

“Yes. Of course I will. At last.”

We both laughed and gradually got back to eating our meals, although I didn't find it easy to eat with the silly grin which I knew was spreading across my face.

We said little more until the coffee was in front of us.

“What do we do now?” Joyce said.

“I have a lot more enquires to make until I can tie everything together, always assuming it can be tied together.”

“I didn't mean about that. I meant about us.”

“I owe it to your parents to solve this case and find out what happened to Helen. Perhaps it wouldn't be a good idea to get too involved just yet. I need to concentrate. You've already proved something of a distraction.”

“How?”

“Just having you with me is a distraction. I find myself thinking about you rather than the case. I must try not to do that.

“So?”

“We know now how we feel about each other.”

“At last,” she said again, smiling.

“Once everything is sorted, we can spend as much time together as we like. Until then, can we just play it a little cool and keep things to ourselves?”

“That's not going to be easy, but I'll try.”

“Why won't it be easy?”

“My mum will know something's up, just by looking at me. She always can.”

It was my turn to smile.

“Just play it down for the time being. Hopefully it won't be for long.”

“All right. I'll try.”

I paid and we left for the car park, where our cars were parked about as far apart as they could have been.

Joyce turned towards me and I took her arms and drew her towards me and kissed her, for the very first time, on the lips.

When she finally eased away she said, “You expect me to play it cool when you kiss me like that?”

“I shan't find this any easier than you,” I assured her. “Listen, let me get some more work done, then come round to mine later. What do you say?”

“I say ‘Yes',” she said.

“Good.”

Pecking her on the cheek I made my way across to my car.

“Don't take too long with your work,” she called after me.

Later, we were sitting on my sofa, well half lying would be more accurate. Cold coffee was congealing in the bottom of two mugs on the floor.

“I've got to move,” I said. “My left arm's gone to sleep.”

We were so wrapped around each other it was difficult to get up, and when we did, we immediately fell back down side by side in fits of giggles.

I took her hand.

“Listen,” I said to her. “Can I get something clear in my mind?”

“What?”

“When I take you out, I want us to do what you like doing most. So is it going to be a film, the theatre, a meal, a night club? What would you prefer?”

Joyce snuggled up to me and smiled.

“All of the above.”

“That's going to be a long evening.”

She kissed me again.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“What do you think?”

The moments passed and my thoughts began to drift back to more serious things.

“Can I change the subject?”

“What is it?”

“If I tell you something, can you keep it from your parents till I can confirm things?”

“What is it? What have you found out?”

“Please don't say anything yet, but I've found the person who benefitted from your grandmother's will.”

She sat up suddenly.

“Where? Who is she? You didn't tell me.”

“Not yet. She doesn't know yet that I know, and I'm waiting for some confirmation in order to put two and two together. Can we go and see your parents? There is something I want to ask them.”

“Of course. Do you want to go now?”

“No. Tomorrow will do. Now, I want you to tell me which day you are free to go out.”

“You choose. I've waited this long and I have no other plans.”

“OK. I'll set something up and let you know.”

“Lovely.”

We snuggled back down together and I forgot all about the case completely.

The following morning I drove back to Dedham.

It felt suddenly strange, coming into the house after what had just happened between us. When I was last there it was on business, although I had been before, of course. Now I felt oddly conspicuous and tried to shrug off the feeling, aware that I had to get back to business in order to solve the persistent mysteries that remained.

Joyce's mother appeared at the door to let me in, looking no happier than when I had last seen her.

“Hello, Greg. Do you have any news?”

Joyce, who had appeared alongside her mum, exchanged glances with me.

“What?” Joyce was right. Mothers don't miss a trick.

“I just wanted to ask you a few more questions,” I said, hoping to avoid confusing the visit with personal matters.

She looked disappointed.

“Oh. All right then.”

She gave Joyce a puzzled look and led us into the living room, where Oliver was reading the newspaper.

“Hello, Greg,” he said half-heartedly.

Joyce and I sat on the sofa, but unnaturally apart, or so it seemed to me.

“Two things, really,” I began. “And I'm sorry to return to distressing matters. After Helen was found, I assume that all she had with her was brought back here.”

“Yes. Eventually. It was retained by the police, but then they returned it. I think they said it had no material connection with the case.”

“Could I see what it was?”

Joyce's parents exchanged looks, then her mother said, “Yes. I'll get it for you.”

She brought in Helen's handbag and I took it to the dining table and began to take things out. When I found the photographs I knew that another piece had fitted into place.

“Who is this?”

“We don't know, but we found the pictures in a trunk of Annie's things that was stored in the garage.”

“You have a trunk of Annie's things here?”

“Oh, yes. Didn't we mention it?”

“No. Could I see it later?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you think Helen had these photos with her?”

“I don't know. We think the person is the same in each picture. Helen was convinced the pictures meant something. Perhaps she just stored them in her bag so she would have them with her.”

“Do you know if she tried to find out who this is?”

“No. It was only just before she died that we found the pictures.”

Surely this was relevant. I had recognised Ilse immediately, but kept it to myself.

“Now. Before I look in the trunk, can you think of anything or anyone Annie mentioned? Think back as far as you can. Whoever this Ilse Chambers is, I'm sure she must have some link with Annie.”

Joyce's mother sat down on a dining chair and stared at the photos still lying on the table.

“Annie once said something strange. It was the day of Alan's funeral.”

“My grandad,” Joyce added.

“She said that if she moved south she would be able to visit a friend in the Midlands more often. But when I asked about the friend, she changed the subject.”

She looked at me.

“Do you think that is important?”

“It could be,” I said. “Do you have any idea who this friend might be?”

“No. None at all.”

“OK. Let's see what I can find in that trunk. Would you like to help?”

Joyce's parents looked at each other.

“We went through it before with Helen,” her mother said, continuing to look at Oliver as she spoke. “It'll seem strange doing it again.”

Oliver nodded, and she added, “But if you think it would help.”

“Well it's likely that you'll make more sense out of some of the contents than me.”

It took us ages to work our way through the whole trunk. We separated everything out into irrelevant, not likely to be relevant, and possibly relevant. Then we separated each of those piles into known or recognised and unknown items.

The floor had become strewn with empty coffee mugs and plates of crumbs from the biscuits and sandwiches we consumed. We sat round in a circle, faced by six collections of assorted material, all precious to Annie in one way or another. Most of it a mystery to us.

“What now?” Joyce asked me.

“I think it's likely that we need to start in the collection of unknown and possibly relevant. Something in there might give us an entirely new lead to sorting out what has happened.”

I leaned forward and began to dig. After a few minutes I found a small pack of something wrapped in newspaper. I unfolded the paper and found a collection of photographs of a wooded area.

“Do you know where this is?”

The pictures were passed round.

“No idea,” they all said.

“Then there's this one of a War Cemetery. Any idea where this is?”

No one had.

“Why would Granny have a picture of a War Cemetery?” Joyce said. “Look, it says Commonwealth War Graves Commission.”

She turned to her mother.

“Was there anyone in our family killed during the war?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Could she have had a brother?” I asked.

“If she did, she never mentioned him.”

“Perhaps she had a brother, who had a daughter, and that's the person in the photograph.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Can I keep these, at least for the time being? It would be interesting to know where this cemetery is.”

I wrapped the photos up in the newspaper again and put the little package in my pocket.

We searched some more, and all we could find was an ageing print of a tall building of grey stone. It looked very stark and rather imposing, but there was no clue as to what or where it was.

“Look,” I said. “I think it's possible that any number of things in this trunk could be useful in helping us answer questions. Can we put them back in some sort of order, so I can get at them again if I need to?”

“Why don't you take the whole trunk?” Oliver suggested. “It's no use to us, certainly not at present. If its contents can help you in your enquiries, you might as well have it with you.”

He turned to his wife.

“No reason why not,” she said.

“That would be helpful. Thanks.”

We began to repack the trunk, while keeping each sorted group of items together. The ones I thought most likely to be useful were placed on top.