Callander Square (25 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. Really, the child was becoming impossible. “Why ever should you marry a policeman?”

“Because I like them. I like Mr. Pitt. I should like to marry him, only he is already married. He was here again today. He was talking to Mary Ann. I don’t think he’ll ever find out who killed those babies, you know. He says so himself. It will just remain a mystery for ever and ever and ever. We shall all wonder who it was, and we shall think dreadful things about each other, and no one will ever know. When I grow to be very old, about fifty, I shall tell my grandchildren about it, and I shall say the square is haunted by crying babies who were murdered in olden times; that’s now; but it will be olden times by then, and nobody ever knew who did it. And we shall play games as to whom it might have been, and—”

“Stop it!” Reggie said furiously. He could not remember when he had last lost his temper, but this was monstrous. The child was talking nonsense, absurd, ridiculous, and frightening nonsense. She was raising visions of a never-ending bondage, a bloodsucking till he was empty, a fear to stalk him the rest of his life! “Stop it!” he shouted. “That’s not true! They’ll find out who it was. The police are very clever. They are bound to discover, and probably quite soon.” He could still feel his heart bumping, but it was not quite so uncontrolled now.

Chastity looked at him in surprise, but without losing her beastly composure.

“Do you think so, Uncle Reggie? I don’t. I think it will be a terrible mystery for ever and ever, and everyone will go around whispering about it. Can I learn mathematics, please?”

“No!”

“But I want to.”

“Well, you can’t!”

“Why not?” she asked reasonably.

“Because I say so. Now go up to bed. It must be your bedtime.”

“It isn’t, not for another hour yet.”

“Do as you are told, child. Go to bed.” He knew he was being completely arbitrary, but then one was not required to explain to children, or even to have an explanation. One could do as one pleased. It was good for children to learn to obey.

Chastity retired as she was told, but there was a look of disappointment in her eyes that was distinctly touched with contempt. The impertinence of it stung him.

He sat staring at the opposite chair, his thoughts going round with gathering momentum, and increasing unpleasantness. What if Chastity were right, and they never did find out who it was? They would go on talking about it—after all, why should they ever stop? Gossip was the lifeblood of women’s social round. What was not real or known must be invented! It was appalling, but it was true. Of course other subjects would arise, other scandals, no doubt; but at the slightest reawakening of any suspicions, this one with all its obscene speculation would be resurrected.

And Freddie, Freddie would know that, and thrive on it. Great God, he could be paying him for the rest of his life, being sucked of substance, by a bloody leech—a vampire! This was terrible!

He found himself standing up, without having been aware of rising. He must do something, that was beyond question. But what? His brain was like a cheese, no sense in it. He could not do it alone, that much was sure. He had no ideas. Who could help? Must not let Adelina know, she would blurt it out all over the place. Anyway, she was one of the ones he must keep it from. She would not understand about Mary Ann, still less about Dolly. She would make life intolerable for him. And he valued the comfort, above all else the ease and graciousness of his home. No ugliness or need for the labor of the outside world intruded into it, and he intended to keep it that way, at all costs. And of course for purely practical purposes, he must protect his position at the bank, it was a very lucrative and pleasant situation. He had influence.

But none of that was any use now, and he could see it slipping away from him, and leaving him naked to the chill of life’s harsh realities—no succulent foods, no great fires, deep chairs, summer afternoons with strawberries, servants for everything, parties whenever he wished; naked, like a great white animal without its fur or its shell, ready to be shriveled by the first winter blast.

He must get help. Who was the most practical person he knew, the most intelligent? The answer was quick to come to mind, without question, Garson Campbell.

And there was no time to be lost. Anyway, he could not possibly rest until he had done something about it, his mind was in turmoil. He rang for the footman to bring his coat. It was an abysmal night, and he loathed getting wet, but the discomfort inside him was infinitely worse, and growing more acute with each new thought that came to his mind.

He found Campbell in and willing to see him, although in view of the urgency with which he announced himself, he would have been very surprised had he not.

“Well, Reggie, what’s the panic?” Campbell said with a slightly caustic smile. “William seemed to think you were in something of a flap.”

“My God, Campbell, I’ve discovered something appalling!” Reggie collapsed into one of the other chairs and gazed up at Campbell with thumping heart. “Simply frightful.”

Campbell was unimpressed.

“Oh. I suppose you’ll need a glass of port to help you recover.” It was an observation, not a question.

Reggie sat up in the seat.

“I’m not joking, Campbell, this is damned serious!”

Campbell swiveled round at the sideboard to face him, perhaps struck by the timbre of his voice.

Reggie could feel panic welling up inside him. What if Campbell would not help?

“I’m being blackmailed!” he blurted out. “For money! At least it’s only money at the moment. God knows what it could grow into! Campbell, my whole life could be ruined! He could take everything, like a vampire at my throat, sucking out my life! It’s obscene, it’s frightful!”

At last Campbell was impressed, his face altered and a hardness, an attentiveness came into his eyes.

“Blackmailed?” he repeated, his hand still holding the port decanter, but absently, forgetting what it was.

“Yes!” Reggie’s voice was climbing higher and higher. “A hundred pounds!”

Campbell had control of himself again. His mouth turned down at the corners.

“That’s a lot of money.”

“You’re damned right it is. Campbell, what am I going to do? We’ve got to stop this sort of thing, before it takes hold.”

Campbell’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“Why ‘we,’ Reggie? I agree, blackmail is a nasty thing, but why should I involve myself?”

“Because it’s Freddie, you fool!” Reggie lost his temper again; he was badly frightened, their whole manner of life was threatened, and here was Campbell standing with port in his hand and a sneer on his face as if it were merely some minor inconvenience.

“Freddie?” There was steel in Campbell’s voice, a quite different tone. His face had stiffened, even his body. “Freddie Bolsover?”

“Yes! Damned Freddie Bolsover. Came to my house as cool as you please, sat in my chair in the library and drank my port, and asked me for a hundred pounds to keep quiet about my fondness for the parlormaid!”

“And you paid him?” Campbell’s eyebrows rose and his eyes were full of cynical disbelief, and something that looked like amusement. Although God knew what there was to be amused at!

“Of course I paid him!” Reggie spat out furiously. “What do you think the police would make of it if they knew I had a fondness for parlormaids, with those wretched bodies in the square? They might even think I had something to do with Helena Doran, and so help me God, I never touched the girl! Little harmless fun with a few maids, but never anything really wrong! But can’t expect those bounders to know that! They’re only working class themselves!”

Campbell looked at him down his long nose.

“Yes, you’re in something of a spot, aren’t you?” He finished pouring the port at last and handed Reggie one. “Although I shouldn’t think anyone could connect you with Helena,” he hesitated, “could they?”

“No!”

“Then I don’t know why you’re so excited. What can Freddie say? That he thinks you had a bit of a toss with your parlormaid? That’s hardly damning. And how in hell would he know, anyway? Does he listen to kitchen gossip? You were a fool to pay.”

Reggie squirmed in his chair. It was Dolly and her death after the wretched abortion that he was frightened of—Mary Ann was neither here nor there, as Campbell had said. He looked at Campbell now, standing in the middle of the room, broad-shouldered, solid-bellied, a slight sneer on his face. He was clever, Reggie knew that, he had always known it; it was one of those obvious things, inescapable. But dare he trust him? He had to have help from someone. Freddie had to be stopped, otherwise he would rob him of everything that made life of value! Feed off him, like some disgusting animal, take all his comfort, and he could end up a frightened wreck drinking soda water and eating bread and mincemeat. He would sooner be dead!

He did not know how to begin.

Campbell was waiting, staring at him, his eyes still smiling.

“It’s rather more than that,” Reggie began. “They might think—”

Campbell’s mouth twisted at the corners.

“—I mean,” Reggie tried again, “other maids, they might—” Damn the man. Why would he not understand?

“—they might think you had something to do with Dolly’s death?” Campbell finished for him.

Reggie felt the ice run through him as if his valet had accidentally run him a cold bath.

Campbell was looking at him with a cynical amusement.

“Yes, that could be embarrassing,” he said thoughtfully. “Freddie was the doctor called in, wasn’t he? Yes, he could probably tell the police precisely what happened. And I suppose he might well feel excused of his usual obligations of silence,” he coughed, “under the circumstances. Perhaps you were right to pay, after all.”

“God damn it!” Reggie heaved himself out of the chair onto his feet till he stood facing Campbell. “That’s no help! What am I going to do?”

Campbell stuck out his lower lip.

“Keep control of yourself, for a start. I agree entirely, old boy. It’s bad: very bad. No idea Freddie had it in him.”

“He’s a complete outsider,” Reggie said bitterly. “A bounder.”

“Doubtless, but that only means he’s the nerve and the wit to do what many others would, if they dared, and had thought of it. Don’t be such a hypocrite, Reggie. This is hardly the time to become self-righteous; apart from being a trifle ridiculous, it’s of no use.”

“Use?” Reggie was flabbergasted. Freddie was a total cad, and here was Campbell talking about it as if it were an everyday occurrence: a problem of logistics rather than an outrage.

“Yes, of course ‘use,’” Campbell said a little tartly. “You do want to prevent it continuing indefinitely, I take it? I thought that was why you came?”

“Yes, of course it is! But aren’t you shocked? I mean—Freddie!”

“It’s years since I’ve been shocked,” Campbell answered, holding his port glass up to the light and examining the color. “I am occasionally surprised; usually pleasantly, when I have expected the worst and it has not happened, when my luck has held longer than I thought likely. But most people who are honest are only so through lack of courage, or lack of imagination. Man is basically a selfish animal. Watch children some time, and you’ll see it very quickly. We’re all much the same, one hand out to grab what we can, and one eye over our shoulders to see who’s looking, and make sure we don’t have to pay for it. Freddie’s just rather better at it than I gave him credit for.”

“Never mind the philosophy, what in hell are we going to do about it?” Reggie demanded. “We can’t let him go on!”

“There’ll be nothing to go on to,” Campbell pointed out. “When the police either find out who is responsible, which I admit is unlikely, or give up, which I dare say they will, in another few weeks, that will be the end of it. After all, they can’t waste time indefinitely on some servant girl’s mistakes. It’s not as if anyone cared or as if discovering anything would make a ha’porth of difference to its happening over and over again into an infinite future precisely the same. Just keep your head. I’ll have a word with Freddie, warn him of the several nasty things that could happen to his practice, if he makes a habit of this.”

For the first time Reggie felt a spark of hope: sane, rational hope. If Campbell spoke to Freddie, he might realize he could not go on demanding money, that he would make his own position impossible. He would never be frightened of Reggie, but he might well take Campbell more seriously.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That will do it; make all the difference. He’ll see it will only work once. Yes, excellent. Thank you again.”

Campbell pulled a face of incredulousness mixed with amusement, but he said nothing. Reggie left with a firmness to his step. He could see light ahead, comfort again.

Of course General Balantyne also heard about the appalling discovery in the empty garden, and he was deeply shocked by it. He had not known Helena well, but she had been a lovely creature, full of life, gentle, a woman with all her promise ahead of her. To find her in such—the thought of it was too dreadful to frame. Someone had abused and violated her, and even presumably killed her. No one knew a great deal yet, and the police had not so far called. It was to be supposed they would come today.

Meanwhile he would work on his papers. Miss Ellison, although he thought of her as Charlotte now, had done all that she could for the time being, and in truth, he missed her. The library seemed empty without her presence and he found it harder to resume his concentration, as if he were awaiting something.

He had still not settled his mind to work when the police came. It was the same fellow, Pitt. He received him in the library.

“Good morning, Inspector.” There was no need to ask what he was here for.

“Good morning, sir.” Pitt came in gravely.

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you anything of value,” Balantyne said straight away. “I did not know Miss Doran other than to see her occasionally when she visited my wife and daughter. I imagine you will wish to see them. I would appreciate it if you could keep the most distressing facts to yourself. My daughter is about to be married, day after tomorrow, to be precise. Don’t want to spoil the—” he stopped; it sounded callous, offensively trite, when another girl was lying alone, a few rag-covered bones in some police mortuary, obscenely eaten by small animals and maggots! It made him faintly sick.