The Reckoning (28 page)

She turned back to face them.

‘I'd been out during the morning and, when I came home, I went over next door to see if there was anything I could do for Alma. There was no sign of her downstairs, only the usual untidy piles of letters and papers strewn around, so I went upstairs to the bedroom and found Hazel asleep. To my surprise she was alone in the house and I wondered where Alma was. It wasn't until I went to the window that I saw her. She was standing at the bottom of the garden quite near the bank of the river, gazing out over it. She had her arms folded, but more than that, they seemed wrapped around her, and I had the absurd thought that she was somehow trying to hold herself together, to stop herself from falling to pieces. I watched her for several minutes, but she didn't move a muscle. It was as if she'd been turned to stone. I wondered what had happened, what was going through her mind. Then Hazel started to struggle for breath behind me and I had to leave the window to fix the oxygen mask to her nose. When I went back to the window I saw Alma walking back up the garden to the house. I was planning to ask her if anything was wrong, but when she came into the bedroom and I saw her face, I changed my mind. Her eyes were quite dead. She hardly seemed aware of my presence. And when she did look at me, it was as though she was seeing a stranger.'

Miss Dauncey kneaded her forehead.

‘I hardly slept that night. I knew something terrible had happened, but I had no idea what. Next morning I screwed up my courage and went over to see if there was any way I could get to the bottom of it. I found Alma tidying up in the sitting room, boxing papers. Before I had time to speak she said she had to go out to fetch some medicine for her mother from the
chemist, and would I keep an eye on her while she was gone? The same dead look was on her face; she hardly seemed to know me. But I agreed, of course, and went upstairs. Hazel was asleep; she was breathing raggedly. I'd only been with her for a few minutes when the doorbell rang. I went downstairs to answer it and found a man I'd never seen before standing on the doorstep. He asked for Alma.
“
My name's Finch,” he said. “Colin Finch. We're old friends.”'

‘Old friends?' Billy came to life with a start. He was transfixed by the story.

‘That's what he said.' Miss Dauncey shrugged. ‘But I didn't believe it for a moment. One look at him was enough. I guessed at once that he must be the man Alma had been involved with. And her strange behaviour the day before suddenly made sense. She must have had word that he was coming to see her. Perhaps he didn't know how much it would upset her. Or perhaps he didn't care. He was an attractive devil all right, but there was a hard look about him. He seemed to me one of those men who are at ease, no matter what the situation. He didn't show even a hint of embarrassment or discomfiture, no sign that he knew his presence might not be welcome. He seemed quite sure of himself.'

Her face had reddened while she was speaking.

‘Can you describe him?' Billy leaned forward.

‘Certainly. I've a good memory for faces. He was older than Alma, in his early forties I'd say, but younger than his years, lean and fit-looking, with dark hair cut quite short and a small scar on his left temple. What else . . . ?' She thought for a moment. ‘Yes, he had brown eyes – I remember those – and sensitive hands. I wondered if he was an artist.'

‘From his
hands
?'

‘No, it was something else. He had one of those flat cases painters use to carry their drawings around in. I wondered if
that was what had brought them together: whether he had used Alma's interest in art to get close to her. I'm not saying that's so; it was just a thought. But he did have interesting hands. His fingers were slender, but looked strong. It's the sort of thing I notice.' She flushed. ‘So I can also tell you that he was married.'

‘How did you know that?'

‘From his wedding ring. He was playing with it as he spoke to me. I think that's what I found most offensive: how
brazen
he was.'

For the first time a note of anger sounded in her voice.

‘Yes, but how can you be sure? I mean you can't be certain that he and . . .'

Billy struggled to find the right words. He wished Madden would speak. Having earlier played his part in the interview, his old chief had gone silent.

‘Let me go on.' She quieted him with a gesture. ‘You'll see what I mean in a moment.'

She paused.

‘I felt I knew what effect his presence would have on Alma, and I wanted nothing better than to send him packing. But it was not my business to interfere, and I simply told him that she was out, but would be back in a while and in the meantime he could wait for her in the sitting room. I went back upstairs. I was already dreading what might happen when Alma found him there and half-thought of slipping out to warn her in advance. But I couldn't leave Hazel alone. She seemed restless in her sleep and she was sweating in the heat. It was the first week in June; we were having an unaccustomed heatwave. I went to the window to open it and, as I did so, I heard the front door open and realized Alma must be back. I stood there expecting to hear the sound of voices downstairs, but instead there was silence. Then I saw him – her visitor. He was down below on the terrace. He'd obviously wandered outside and was standing by the balustrade looking at the garden. I was about to turn away – I meant to go
downstairs and alert Alma to his presence – when I heard her speak. Her voice came from below me on the terrace. She'd obviously seen him through the windows in the sitting room and had followed him outside. “
You!
” she said.'

‘You?' Billy didn't understand.

‘That was all she said. “
You!
”'

She stared at him.

‘But it wasn't so much the word – it was the way she said it. I had never heard such anger in her voice, such . . . scorn, such
contempt.
As soon as she spoke he turned round, and I swear he went pale at the sight of her. I thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply held out his hands to her . . . like this.'

Amanda Dauncey extended her arms to their full length with her hands held open.

‘I suppose he was making an appeal of some sort – that's what it looked like – but it cut no ice with Alma. I couldn't see her face, of course, only the top of her head, but I could see his and it was obvious he was shaken. “I might have known
you'd
appear,” she said in that same terrible voice. “
Antoine . . .
”'

‘Ant . . . ?' Billy was lost.

‘Antoine. It's a French name.'

‘But didn't he say his name was Colin?'

Miss Dauncey sighed. All at once she seemed exhausted.

‘I can't explain that except to say that lovers do sometimes make up names for each other. But again, it wasn't the name, it was the way Alma said it. She made it sound like a curse. Perhaps I imagined it, but he seemed to sway on his feet, as if he'd been struck a blow. But then he recovered and, when he finally spoke, he sounded quite calm. “You must stop this,” he said. “We need to talk.” But Alma would have none of it. She was merciless. “No one asked you to come here,” she said. “No one wants you.” He gave her a long look then and, I have to say, he did seem sad at that moment, and regretful. “In that case I'd
better go,” he said. “Yes, you had,” she spat back at him. “Before you do, though, there's something I want to show you.” Without waiting for a reply she turned on her heel and went back inside. He followed her, and I heard nothing more until the front door shut a few minutes later and I realized that he must have left. When Alma came upstairs I began to explain about her visitor and how I had had to leave him on his own, but she cut me off. It was perfectly all right, she said. She had spoken to him and he had left. But there was no expression in her voice, no emotion in her eyes. It was as though she had shut me – and the world – out forever. Oh, Lord . . . !'

She wrung her hands.

‘I did feel awful for having eavesdropped that way. I wished I hadn't. It was dreadful seeing Alma in such pain. I went home soon afterwards, but I kept thinking I ought to go back and explain what had happened. What stopped me was the thought that it would only make things worse. Then, before I had time to think any further on it, events overtook us. Hazel passed away during the night and when Alma rang me next morning to tell me, I decided there was only one thing I could do at that point and that was help her in any way I could. Whatever might have happened to her in the past, I felt no good could come of bringing it up. So I said nothing.'

She ran her fingers through her hair.

‘The next few days and weeks were busy ones. I had thought Alma might want to stay in Richmond, at least for a while, but after the funeral she told me she was going ahead with her plan to emigrate and asked if I would help in clearing out the house. She wanted to put it up for sale as soon as possible, but would leave the business side of that in the hands of her mother's solicitor. So we got down to it, the pair of us, and before long we had sent whatever pieces and household items she wanted to keep to storage and the rest to an auctioneer. I don't know how Alma
felt – she seemed to have shut her feelings away – but I know I didn't find it easy. There's something so sad about clearing up after a life, and in Hazel's case I found it especially poignant. We left the photograph of her husband, which had meant so much to her, where it was in the sitting room almost to the last and I put fresh flowers in the bowl every day. It was a sentimental gesture, I know, but I felt we owed it to Hazel. On the final day, when Alma left to go up to London, she packed it in her suitcase and somehow that seemed to mark the end of their time there – the last of them both.'

She sank back in her chair.

‘So that's the story and, as I said before, I don't believe it's got anything to do with any police investigation. It was private to Alma, and to this day I don't know exactly what was behind it, except it was plain that somehow this man had hurt her very deeply. There's really nothing more I can tell you.'

Billy glanced at Madden again. He was used to his old chief's silences, but this one had been more protracted than usual. Madden was sitting with his chin cupped in his hand, seemingly lost in thought.

‘Did you ever see him again?' Finally Billy himself spoke.

She shook her head. ‘And, before you ask, Alma never mentioned him. Other than the name I gave you, I've no idea who he is or where he came from.'

‘Did you keep in contact with her after she left?'

‘We didn't lose touch. She still had her flat in London and she handled the rest of her preparations from there. She came down to Richmond on a few occasions to see Mr Royston – he was Hazel's solicitor – and we met briefly. But we weren't close, the way we once were, and it was clear to me that the wound she'd suffered hadn't healed. She had a steely look that I'd never seen before. I had the feeling that meeting that man again had brought it all back, and I could only hope that she would find peace of mind and a new life in Canada.'

‘Have you heard from her at all?'

‘A few times. She sailed from Liverpool at the end of July and I had a postcard from her soon afterwards and then a letter, both sent from Toronto. She didn't say much – only that she was finding her feet. She thanked me again for the help I'd given her, but formally, without any warmth, and I was afraid that in the end she would simply disappear from my life.

‘But then I had a reprieve, if you can call it that.' Miss Dauncey smiled wanly. ‘Three weeks ago I had another letter from her, which was a little warmer in tone. She was still in Toronto, but she wasn't intending to stay there. She wanted to see more of the country before she settled down, and planned to travel by train to Vancouver. She said she would write again once she got there.'

About to ask a further question, Billy paused. Beside him Madden had stirred at last.

‘That remark she made about England – “this bloody country” – what do you think she meant by it?'

‘I wish I knew. We both asked why she had said it, Hazel and I, but as I recall Alma gave no answer. I ought to say that we were treating her with kid gloves at the time. She seemed so fragile . . . in herself, I mean. We didn't want to upset her more.'

Madden pondered.

‘And about this visitor she had – Colin Finch – do you know what it was she wanted to show him before he went?'

‘I haven't the faintest idea, I'm afraid.' She shook her head hopelessly. ‘I spent hours racking my brains over that.'

‘You said he was hard-looking. What did you mean by that?'

‘I'm really not sure . . . It was just something I felt.' She seemed disconcerted by the question. ‘And it was only an impression – something to do with his eyes. He looked like a man who could handle any sort of situation. I felt he was probably unscrupulous, but that may have been because I realized how
attractive he must have seemed to a young and inexperienced woman, and I had the feeling he had treated Alma badly.'

She shrugged.

‘But I've no proof of that. There was really no reason for me to take against him. He wasn't here long; and while he was here, he behaved like a gentleman.'

23

‘I
DON
'
T KNOW ABOUT
you, sir, but I'm finding it harder than ever to make sense of this. It's clear Alma worshipped her dad. But does that mean she's mixed up in this? True, she might have found some way of faking her trip to Canada, though I don't see how, but if we follow that line and we're wrong – if the Mounties tell us they've found her – we'll be back where we started with all that time wasted.'

Billy signalled his frustration with a sigh.