Private Sorrow, A (7 page)

Molly could have kissed her. ‘Thank you, Anita. You’ve been a great help with your fantastic memory. I wish everyone could remember things from so long ago.’

Anita’s face went pink with pleasure. ‘Well, I was just married and interested in everybody who lived around me. And I had Mrs Pert. What she didn’t know wasn’t worth bothering about. I once said to my husband, “That woman would make a great blackmailer.”’ Jean gave a gasp and Anita looked guilty. ‘It’s just that I had been reading a great murder mystery and the victims were being blackmailed and then bumped off. But everybody knew about Mrs Pert and they used to laugh at her gossip.’

Molly managed to say ‘cheerio’ to Anita after half an hour and even then she stood at the window and waved. ‘For heaven’s sake,’ said Jean, ‘I thought she would be here all night.’ She became serious. ‘You don’t think there could have been any truth in her blackmail suggestion do you?’

Molly laughed. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so.’

Jean was quiet. ‘That Anita is a sharp little madam. She’s observant and she notices and listens to all sorts of stories.’

But Molly wasn’t listening. The name Sasha rang a bell and she hurried upstairs to look at the address book. Yes, there it was. Dr Sasha Lowson, Beach House, St Andrews. Vera had written a small note beside the name. ‘Sasha has sent a lovely letter about Dave and Etta. I heard from her last year, and she is still in St Andrews.’ Molly would go and see Dr Sasha Lowson on Monday. As she would be driving, she decided to spend Sunday night in Newport and she could make an early start the next morning. She was hoping to see Marigold and discuss the case with her. Maybe she would see something that Molly was missing.

When she arrived and stood in the living room of her parent’s house, a feeling of loneliness suddenly overwhelmed her – it was a true saying that it was the people who made a home and, if they weren’t there, then it was just a pile of bricks and mortar. She quickly went over to visit Marigold, who was delighted to see her and she insisted that Molly stay for her tea. This was an invitation that didn’t need issuing twice because Molly wasn’t in the mood to cook for one in her parents’ quiet, empty house.

After tea, Molly took out her notes and they both settled down beside the blazing fire. Marigold asked how the investigation was going. ‘I’m not sure,’ said Molly. ‘I’ve spoken to three people who knew the family but I’ve still no idea what happened to Etta. Vera was in hospital before and during the accident and she never saw Etta again. It’s a complete mystery. Still, I’m going to see someone who lodged with the family in 1929 and hopefully she can help me. She’s a doctor who lives in St Andrews.’

‘There’s one thing that bothers me,’ said Marigold. ‘Why was Dave Barton in Arbroath that Sunday, especially as his wife was in hospital? And where was Etta? Was she with him or did she stay at home or go out with a friend?’

Molly could have kicked herself for overlooking this important fact. It was easy to see that she wasn’t an investigator. ‘I’ve no idea, Marigold. I’ll go and see Vera tomorrow, after I’ve seen this Dr Lowson. I don’t know where Etta was but the newspaper cutting said the last known sighting of her was on the Saturday night after work.’

Marigold laughed. ‘Don’t believe everything that you read in the papers. They sometimes get it wrong.’

‘Well, I’ve taken the job on for one month and I’ve told Vera not to get her hopes raised as it’s been so long ago. I didn’t take the job under false pretences. Thank goodness, as I’m not getting anywhere fast.’

The two women settled down to listen to the radio while outside a storm had blown up. Rain rattled against the window and gusts of wind blew hot specks of ash into the hearth. Marigold looked out as she went to make cups of cocoa. ‘What a night! The rain is lashing down and that tree in the garden is almost bent double under the wind.’

As she handed a cup to Molly, she said, ‘Why don’t you stay here tonight? Your house will be cold.’ Molly was grateful for the offer and this was the second invitation she didn’t turn down.

Later, as she lay in bed and listened to the wind and rain, she tried to make sense of all the information she had so far and wondered if she had missed something. But tomorrow was another day and another interview, she thought, as she snuggled down in the warm bed. Within a few minutes, she was fast asleep.

The delicious smell of bacon woke her up. Marigold was busy in the kitchen, wearing an apron with large red roses splashed all over its surface. She looked like she had brought the garden indoors. Sabby was purring around her feet and Marigold was putting warm milk in her bowl. Molly didn’t say anything but she was amused by the wonderful life the cat led. No wonder she didn’t want to go home. The storm had abated slightly but the rain was still as heavy. Large black clouds made the morning murky and dark but Molly hoped the weather would improve as she set off in search of the good doctor.

An hour later, she was on her way. Marigold stood at the door as the car drove out of the drive. ‘Watch the road, Molly. There might be floods after last night.’

As she waved back, she thought that was all she needed, but thankfully, although there were lots of deep puddles at the side of the road, she managed to make good time and she drove into St Andrews at around 10:30 a.m. She found a car park just off the main street and hurried to the shops. She planned to find the post office and ask the way to Beach House. Presumably it overlooked the beach but it could be anywhere along the coastline.

The rain had stopped when she was halfway through her journey but it was still grey and dismal. She soon found the post office and she waited in the queue until she reached the counter. The assistant was very helpful but she probably thought Molly was in need of medical help. Fortunately, the house was near the town. ‘Doctor Lowson’s house? Yes, go to the end of the street and if you follow the road you’ll come to Beach House.’

Molly followed the directions but it took longer than she thought. When she came to the end of the street, she had to go along another couple of roads but when she turned the corner, the beach lay before her. On this dreary morning, the wet sand looked drab, with clumps of seaweed lying in a line at the high watermark, while the sea rushed to the shore in large waves. There was no sign of anyone on the wet, pristine stretch of sand and the beach looked forlorn and uninviting, like an alien patch of land from some uninhabited part of the world. Yet how different it would be in the height of the summer, she thought, with holidaymakers making patterns with their footprints.

Molly turned her attention to the row of villas that lined the road and she made her way along the pavement, searching for Beach House. It was situated half way along the street and had a sign outside that stated it was a doctor’s surgery. She walked up the brick drive to an extension on the side of the house, which had another sign saying ‘Surgery’. Inside was a small hall with two doors and Molly decided to open the one nearest to her. She found herself in a medium-sized room with chairs along three walls and a long coffee table that held glossy magazines. There were four people waiting and Molly sat down. A couple of the women gave her a scrutinising look. They were obviously long-term patients and they knew a stranger at a hundred yards. Molly gave them a smile and they returned to reading their magazines. Molly was hoping she wouldn’t have too long to wait as she wanted to visit Vera this afternoon. She had no sooner given this a thought when the door opened and one of the women went in, followed quickly by the other three patients.

When it was her turn, she was ushered into a small cosy room with a large desk at the window. Dr Lowson was tiny, just about five feet and very slim. She had dark shiny hair, cut in a neat bob, and lovely grey eyes. Molly could well imagine how Dave Barton had felt with this gorgeous creature living in his house.

The doctor looked surprised to see a stranger. ‘Are you on holiday?’ she asked.

Molly was unsure how to broach the subject of Etta. ‘I’m sorry to turn up on your doorstep like this, Dr Lowson, but I got your name and address from Vera Barton’s address book.’

The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Vera Barton? How can I help you with her?’

Molly explained the situation and said, ‘I’m trying to find out all I can about Etta Barton and I wondered if you could help me in trying to find her.’

The woman gave a nervous cough. ‘Yes, I stayed with the Bartons for a few months in late 1929, while I was at medical school in Dundee, but I’ve no idea where Etta went, or where she is now. I’m sorry.’

Molly decided to be blunt. ‘I have a witness who says there was a rumour Dave Barton fancied you and that Etta didn’t like it.’

The doctor burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I know he did, but it wasn’t anything to be worried about. It was more a liking he had for me and we used to have long talks about medicine and books, and things like that. Vera was a lovely woman and I liked her very much. I wasn’t so fond of Dave, but it was nothing to do with his behaviour as he was always the perfect gentleman. No, I left after a few months, but not because of the rumours. I told Vera that I had to go and live with an elderly aunt who needed someone to be with her at night, which was a lie. I got accommodation elsewhere and I never saw them again.’

‘But you did write to Vera twice. She noted it down in her book.’

‘Yes, I did. I saw the article about Dave’s accident in the paper and then about Etta’s disappearance and I wanted to send my condolences to Vera because, as I said, she was a lovely woman and didn’t deserve the life she had. I also sent a Christmas card last year.’

‘Was there any reason to send a card? Had you heard from any of them?’

‘No, I was clearing out some old correspondence and I came across an old letter from Vera. I just sent her my best wishes and hoped she was keeping well. It was a spur of the moment thing.’

‘Was there a reason why you left after a few months?’

She looked out of the window at the grey sea and sky and sighed. ‘I’m a doctor and I can never be judgemental about anyone but if you must know, I left because of Etta.’

Molly was surprised. ‘But Etta was only fifteen years old. Why?’

‘Yes, she was four years younger than me … I guess it can’t do any harm now to tell you why. One day I was leaving to go to the college when she followed me out. As you probably know, their house is up the two stairs with the plettie outside. This particular morning, I was running late and didn’t see Etta till she came right up beside me. She said, “What a long drop it is to the ground,” and she leaned right over. “It must be twenty feet or more and you could have a nasty accident if you fell over.” With that, she gave me a push. I managed to shove her back and run down the stairs but I was frightened and said that night that I was leaving.’ She leaned on her desk and looked Molly straight in the eye. ‘I will never forget the gloating look she gave me when I told them. It was malevolent. So I don’t care what’s happened to that child and if Vera had any sense she wouldn’t either. Still, I suppose it’s all to do with motherly love. Not that Etta loved her mother, it was her father she adored.’

Molly realised she wouldn’t get much more information from her but she asked, ‘Did you know if Etta had a boyfriend?’

Dr Lowson shook her head. ‘If she did, then no one would have known. She was a secretive one that Etta.’

Molly was still wondering about the scene of Dave’s death. ‘Do you have any idea why Dave would have been in Arbroath that day, Doctor Lowson?’

The doctor looked troubled. ‘No, I’m sorry. I’m not going to wish you good luck in finding Etta because I think it will bring more pain to Vera. I think she couldn’t live without her father after his death and I think she killed herself. Sorry to be so blunt, Miss McQueen, but that’s my theory.’

Molly thanked her and made for the car park. A watery sun had come out and a couple with three dogs were marching across the sand, spoiling the perfect surface. It was a bit like people’s lives she thought: perfect on the surface until footsteps marched all over your soul.

Molly made her way back to Dundee but it was 4:30 p.m. by the time she arrived at Vera’s house. She looked pleased to see Molly but the hope died in her eyes when she realised there was no news about her daughter. Molly told her all the people she had seen and what she had learned, keeping back the bit about Etta’s unpopularity or, in Sasha’s case, her malevolence.

‘I went to see Sasha Lowson this morning, Vera –’

Before she could finish Vera butted in. ‘Oh, how is she? We all liked her when she stayed here. She’s a doctor now but she was just a wee slip of a lassie away back then. I thought she would become friends with Etta, but I suppose she was too busy with her medical studies.’

‘Yes, she told me you made her very welcome and that she had long conversations with your husband.’

Vera burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I know there were rumours about her and Dave and I used to tease him about it, but there was no truth in the stories.’

‘Yes, that’s what she said, but she didn’t stay long with you.’

Vera stopped smiling and she became serious. ‘She said she was going to live with some elderly aunt but I knew it wasn’t true. Still, I pretended to believe her and she left almost overnight.’

‘Why do you think she left so suddenly?’

Vera became angry. ‘It was because of the rumours, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to put me in this position because we got on so well. She wouldn’t have wanted people to think my husband was serious about her.’

Molly stayed silent. So Vera didn’t know about Etta’s threats. Or did she? ‘You didn’t think it was anything to do with Etta?’

Vera looked astonished. ‘Etta? Why would she leave because of Etta?’

Molly had to backtrack. ‘Oh, I just thought, with two young girls in the house, perhaps they had a falling out.’

Vera gave this idea some thought. ‘No, I don’t think so. As I said, Sasha was too busy with her medical books and she never socialised with Etta. I often suggested they should go to the pictures together but they never did.’

‘Did you get another lodger after Sasha left?’