Blood on the Wood (30 page)

‘Cooee. Miss Bray.'

A yell from the other side of the street. I turned and saw a young woman in a brown check riding costume and rakish brown bowler bounding up and down like a boy in a music hall gallery, waving a silver-mounted riding crop at me. For two pins – even two of those that sprang out of her hair as she bounced – I'd have ignored her and walked on but she came running at me across the road, dodging a delivery cart.

‘Miss Bray, where've you been? They've just sent a poor man to prison for murdering that girl.'

At the top of her voice, with several people turning to watch. No escape. I took her to a bench under a tree, made her sit down and, while she got her breath back, explained the difference between a remand in custody by magistrates and a murder trial. I might have saved myself the trouble.

‘But he's still in prison, isn't he, and they think he did it?'

‘Yes.'

‘But he didn't, did he?'

‘Oh? And on what do you base that opinion?'

‘He's so young and nice looking. He doesn't look like a murderer.'

‘So if he'd been sixty years old and covered in warts he'd be guilty, would he?'

But she was babbling on. ‘I was there in court. I looked for you but you weren't there. I can tell you all about it.'

‘What are you doing here, anyway? The last I heard was your mother worrying because you'd missed an appointment in London.'

‘Oh don't worry about that.' She waved Mother and missed appointments away with a twirl of her riding crop. ‘I remembered I had an old schoolfriend not far from here. I've sent Mummy a telegram to say I'm staying with her.'

‘Why here?'

‘Because I wanted to know what happened. Anyway, it's just as well I am here because we can work together.'

‘In what way, precisely?'

‘To stop them hanging him, find out who really killed the girl.'

To hear her, you'd think it was as easy as putting up a string of flags. I was about to tell her to go back to her old schoolfriend and keep out of it until it struck me that there was one small detail on which she might be of some use.

‘You remember when you and Bessie Broadbeam were waiting for me in the barn. You said a tramp tried to come in.'

‘Yes, and I said—' Her mouth dropped open. ‘Is that it? Was it my whistling tramp who killed her?'

‘There's no proof whatsoever of that. I just wondered if you'd noticed anything else about him. For instance—'

‘That shot, the shot we heard in the garden.' Her eyes were shining, her body vibrating with excitement like a puppy seeing a rabbit. ‘Was that when he killed her?'

‘Probably not.'

‘Probably
not. You mean it might have been? While we were taking Bessie through the garden he was lurking there and—'

‘Will you please listen. We don't need any more theories, we've got more than enough of those. What I want to know is if there's anything else you can remember about the tramp you didn't tell me at the time.'

At least that silenced her for the second or two it took her to think.

‘Well, as I said, I didn't see him properly.'

‘He said something but you couldn't make it out. What was his voice like? Old? Young?'

‘About halfway, I think.'

‘What he was saying – could it have had anything to do with money?'

‘Well, I suppose he might have been asking for money like they mostly do. Mummy says you should never give it to them because they only drink it, but—'

‘He didn't mention any particular sum of money?'

‘Like tuppence for a cup of tea? Well, if he did I didn't understand him.'

I tried a few more questions but all that did was to make her more curious about why I wanted to know.

‘Anyway, if you want we'll look for him together. My friend's father could lend you quite a decent hack.'

‘No, we will not look for him together. You will kindly go back to your old schoolfriend…'

Then the idea that I was to regret so much struck me. Even at the time I knew it was probably a mistake, but there was something about Bobbie's puppyish enthusiasm that made it hard to push her away. There were good reasons too. If I had any chance of finding Fardel I needed help, and as Bobbie had access to a horse she could cover much more country than I could.

‘Where does your friend live?'

‘About an hour's ride that way.' She gestured vaguely in the direction of Banbury.

‘When you're out riding, you might ask around to see if anybody's noticed a tramp or vagrant they haven't seen before. He's in his thirties, dark-haired, broad-shouldered, probably needs a shave and speaks with a Wiltshire accent. His name's Luke Fardel but he might not be using it. He steals chickens from coops and rabbits out of snares.'

‘And he's our man?' Her eyes were bright.

‘The police want to speak to him, at least. But listen, this is very important.' She was showing signs of wanting to jump up and start the search straight away. ‘If you do get word of him, you're on no account to try to approach him yourself. I want you to let me know, nothing else. Understand?'

She nodded. I told her where I was staying and made her repeat it – cottage opposite the Crown, with geraniums. Then, with another wave of her riding crop, she was up and away.

Chapter Nineteen

I
WENT BACK TO THE STATION
. I supposed I'd have to compare notes with Adam Venn and Galway but I was in no hurry about it. The inspector's words had stung and I wasn't feeling pleased with myself. There was no train due for some time so I bought a newspaper and sat on a bench in the sun, relieved to have time to myself for a while. A porter moved packing cases from one end of the platform to another, a man with a walking cane and a derby hat was idling on the opposite side.

We had the little station to ourselves, apart from a girl on the bridge. It was the passenger bridge over the rails, with latticed metal sides. I didn't notice her at first because I wasn't looking that way and when I did it was only to wonder idly what she was doing there. She might be looking along the line for a train, in which case she had a long wait because there wasn't one due in either direction. When I looked up again some time later she was still there. She was wearing a neat navy blue costume over a white blouse, a small white and navy hat on her dark hair. This time I realised that she wasn't watching for a train at all, she was staring at me. Another moment and I recognised her as Felicia Foster.

I must have given some signal, although I was too surprised to think about it, because she turned and walked slowly down the steps towards me. It was worse than surprise, I was downright alarmed. It had been unexpected that she'd left her sickbed and come down to join our conference the day before; almost unbelievable that she'd organised herself to get this far on her own. But she was walking along the platform towards me looking quite composed, though pale. Fardel went out of my head. I thought: She's going to confess to me after all, and then what do I do? Why she should have chosen me, practically a stranger, I didn't know – unless that was the reason. I started making up the speech for the defence in my head.
‘The prisoner before the court has pleaded guilty to the most serious of charges. In considering the sentence, I ask you to remember her state of mind when the act was committed. Her life, as she saw it, was already in ruins. The man she loved and was to marry within a few short weeks had suddenly and callously announced his engagement to another young woman
…'

‘I hoped I'd find you here,' she said. ‘What happened?'

‘Daniel was remanded in custody.'

‘I see.' Almost expressionless. White gloves covered her fiery bitten fingertips. ‘So what happens now?'

‘Unless any evidence turns up to clear him, he'll go on trial, probably in a month or two. Why did you hope you'd find me?'

‘I want to speak to you, away from the rest of them.'

She sat down on the bench beside me.

‘Before you tell me anything,' I said, ‘please understand that I won't guarantee to keep it between the two of us.'

‘Yes, I understand. It's more asking than telling. I feel as if I'm in a boat in the fog and I don't know where land is … or even if land
is
any more – it's as if it's stopped existing. Am I making sense?'

‘Yes.'

‘It's the medicine, partly. You know the doctor prescribed something to keep me calm? I was taking it until yesterday, then I thought “What is there to be calm about?” So I stopped taking it and started trying to think, only I'm going round and round in circles and I can't talk to anybody at home.'

She was staring as if she wanted to drag what she needed out of me by hypnotism. Her eyes were bright and feverish.

‘What do you want to know?'

‘Have you told the police you took the gun from me?'

‘Yes, but I'm not sure they believed me. Daniel's still insisting he had it all the time.'

‘I could go and tell them that you're telling the truth and he isn't.'

‘Yes, but if you do that they might ask you a lot of other questions as well. Are you ready for that?'

‘What sort of questions?'

‘Like where you were through that afternoon and evening.'

She looked down at the toes of her neat navy shoes.

‘At home. In my room mostly.'

‘All the time? I'm not saying you have to tell me, but that would be the sort of question the police would ask you.'

She said nothing for a long time, then, ‘You think Daniel's doing this to protect me?'

‘What other reason could there be?'

‘But why?'

‘Because he feels guilty, I suppose. For bringing Daisy here.'

‘That means he really thinks I killed her, doesn't it?'

‘Yes, probably.'

‘He's not so far wrong, you know. If I'd had the gun and her in front of me, I think I'd have done it. That's why it went off. I really did find it the way I told you, hidden under the blanket. But once I'd got it in my hand I thought “I could find her and kill her”. And I must have squeezed very hard on it because it went off and it scared me – as if I really had been firing at her.'

‘Why did you hate her so much?'

‘Because she was taking away from me the only thing in the world I wanted.'

‘Not Daniel?'

She shook her head slowly. ‘No, not Daniel. How did you guess? Or perhaps Carol told you. I think she's known from the start and decided not to say anything.'

‘No, Carol's said nothing.'

‘So what made you guess? Is there a look in the eye we have, or a way we walk? A smell, perhaps. Is it a smell?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Bad women. She put a hand to her mouth. When she took it away there was an arc of tooth marks on her white glove.

‘You mean, how did I guess that you and Adam Venn are lovers?'

‘Were. Yes, that's what I mean. How did you guess?'

‘Somebody heard you in the cart shed the day Daniel came home.'

She flinched. Her hand went back to her mouth.

‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘I didn't mean to find it out and I haven't told anybody else. The person who heard it thought it was you and Daniel. Only he never calls you Flissie, does he?'

‘No. He hates it. Poor Daniel. I suppose you think I've betrayed him…'

‘I'm not making judgements.'

‘… only there was nothing there to betray. I liked Daniel, but as soon as I came to the house and met Adam I knew I loved him. I wished with all my heart that he was the one I was marrying. Daniel seemed such a boy in comparison. But Adam was Carol's so I knew there was nothing to be done about it. At least if I married Daniel, Adam and I would be able to go on seeing each other all our lives.'

‘As lovers?'

‘No. I'm not that vile – or at least I wasn't. I'd be a good wife to Daniel and Adam would go on being a good husband to Carol, but at least we'd be living in the same house, seeing each other, talking to each other. I couldn't see the harm in that. I still don't, if it had stayed like that.'

I didn't contradict her. Given the accommodations that people come to in marriage, she might be right.

‘Did Daniel know about this?'

‘No. There was nothing to know at first. I didn't even guess that Adam felt the same way about me as I felt about him. He was always kind, of course. Then gradually I saw how things were and felt so sorry for him.'

‘Why?'

‘Carol neglected him. Honestly, I think she thought more about her chairs and wardrobes than she did about Adam. She'd spend all hours at the workshop and even when she was home she'd be doing her sketches or writing letters to customers. And it's never made a profit. It costs hundreds of pounds every year to keep up and they can't afford it but she gets angry if he even hints she should give it up. I could see he was worried and hurt. And then, you see, Daniel was away such a lot with his song collecting. So Adam and I were on our own a lot of the time – apart from Uncle Olly who never notices anything – and … well, it happened.'

‘And you think Carol guessed?'

‘Yes, but as long as she had the workshop, she wouldn't care.'

‘So if it hadn't been for Daisy you'd have married Daniel and gone on…?'

Her mouth twisted in a bleak little smile. ‘That's what's ironic. I'd decided to end it. I knew what we'd been doing was wrong, but it would be even more wrong when I was married to Daniel. That's what I was telling Adam in the barn when you overheard us.'

‘I told you, I wasn't the one who overheard you.'

But it made no difference. She went on pouring it out as if her survival depended on it.

‘Before Daniel went away, he said we should set a new date for the wedding when he got back. So I had to think what we were going to do. I met Adam in the barn and told him I'd made up my mind and it must stop. I'd marry Daniel and we'd be just sister and brother-in-law, no more than that. Only it wasn't as calm as I'm making it sound. I was scared Daniel would find out. I told Adam it was his fault and we should never have done it. That wasn't true. It was me just as much as him.'