The Shadow of the Sycamores (38 page)

The pleading in the young husband’s voice tugged at the older man’s heart. ‘She seemed to be, my boy, but the brain can be inconsistent; in perfect working order for years and then … something triggers a total breakdown for perhaps only a fraction of time.’ Raymond shook his head sadly. ‘I am not saying that
is
what happened, Jerry, but we must consider it as a possibility.’

He turned to the nurse, her face ashen where the coal dust had rubbed off, clasping the glass in her trembling fingers. ‘Can
I leave you to … look after things here, Tina? I must tell the searchers that Dolly is missing, too … and Charles Moonie. He is an unknown quantity in this business.’ He made to take the dead baby from its father but Jerry shook his head and clung to it, raising doubts in his employer’s mind as to
his
sanity. ‘You will have to give him up some time, Jerry. It is not healthy for you to keep holding him. I will put him somewhere safe …’

Having laid down the empty glass, Tina saved the situation by turning and whipping the infant from its unprepared father. ‘I’ll go and put him in your sitting room, Mr Miller. Nobody’ll be going in there.’

At that unfortunate moment, the door burst open and four men staggered in carrying the missing women. ‘We found them in the potting shed,’ Dod Lumsden announced.

‘I found Anna first,’ Dolly said, proudly. ‘She was scared stiff of … well, I haven’t been able to get anything out of her …’ Her legs giving way as her feet touched the ground, she reached for a chair and sat down gratefully.

While Jerry was settling his wife into a chair, it struck Raymond that the four rescuers had fallen silent and, glancing round at them, he saw that their eyes were fixed on the blackened Tina and what she had in her arms. Quick as a flash, he dismissed them with thanks for what they had done and, when they were out, the nurse took the opportunity to run through into the Millers’ sitting room to deposit her pathetic little bundle on the sofa to save anyone else seeing it.

Then Raymond had a sudden, horrible thought. Those men had seen that the infant was dead and they might well spread it all round the countryside that the young mother had murdered her bairn. Whether that was true or not, he had to make certain that the good name of The Sycamores was not besmirched by scandal. He jumped up and ran out after the four who had just left.

When he returned, in some fifteen minutes, Dolly was feeling more able to deal with things but, even after she told them her story, the others were no wiser as to what had really happened.
It did seem as though Anna, still sitting vacant-eyed and unresponsive, was guilty of smothering her child but neither Raymond nor Tina said so because of Jerry. He had been desperately, but unsuccessfully, trying to get through to his wife and was obviously in a state of near collapse himself.

Then Tina said, ‘Mr Miller, it would be best for Jerry to take Anna home to bed but will the police need to question her?’

Dolly opened her mouth to say something but Raymond forestalled her. ‘It’s all right, Tina. The police … um … do not have to be told about this.’

Dolly looked shocked. ‘A crime’s been committed. We must report it.’

‘We don’t know that a crime has been committed,’ Raymond frowned. ‘It could have been an accident or …’ He broke off, shrugging helplessly. ‘Moonie may be able to tell us …’

His wife nodded vigorously. ‘I’m nearly sure he must know who did it. He admitted that he’d been to see Anna this afternoon and, when I said she was missing, he told me to look in the potting shed. I’ll go up and ask him to come down.’

‘I’m afraid he has disappeared now,’ Raymond said, grimly. ‘It seems to me that he could have killed the baby and …’

‘Anna could have seen what he did and run away from him,’ interrupted his wife. ‘He might be looking for her now.’

Tina shook her head. ‘Anna wouldn’t have stood by and watched him killing her son. She’d have fought him tooth and nail and he might have tried to kill her and all. That could be why she ran away.’

Jerry sat silently as suppositions and counter suppositions were raised, his eyes large and tortured, his face gaunt but never, by one flicker of an eyelid, did Anna show that she was conscious of what was going on.

By the time daylight filtered in at the sides of the curtains, Anna still had not made a move nor said a word and the other three had also lapsed into silence. They had exhausted all the possibilities and agreed on none. At last, Tina said, ‘We’re not getting anywhere and Anna really should have some rest.’

Sighing, the Superintendent went over to the girl. ‘Anna,’ he said slowly, softly but firmly, ‘did you smother your baby with his pillow?’

For the first time since she’d been brought in, her eyes clouded with puzzlement, but only very briefly, before she retreated into her cocoon again.

Tina shook her head at her employer. ‘That’s enough tonight, Mr Miller. Give her time. It can wait till tomorrow.’

Dolly nodded her agreement with this. ‘It’s tomorrow already, Raymond, and we all need some sleep.’ She stood up purposefully. ‘You had better go home to your own bed. Anna will be all right here. Tina will look after her. Goodnight.’

The two women went out, supporting the bereaved young mother between them, and Raymond poured another glass of brandy for himself and the younger man. They said nothing for some considerable time, then Jerry murmured, ‘I know you think Anna did it, Mr Miller, but I’m sure the answer lies with Moonie. We need to find him before we’ll get at the truth.’

The Superintendent leapt up. ‘I believe you are right! Come on. He could have hidden in the potting shed after Anna was taken away.’

Handing Jerry a large torch and taking the storm lantern himself, Raymond led the way outside, then said, ‘We should stick together. If Moonie has gone out of his mind, it will take more than one to subdue him.’

They scoured both sides of the path as they made for the shed. Then, as Jerry followed Raymond over the little bridge he spotted a large object half submerged in the water some yards downstream. Alerting his companion, he ran along the bank, realising, in the strengthening daylight, even before he reached it, that it was a body – Charles Moonie’s body.

It took them some time to carry their heavy burden to the house. Jerry couldn’t understand why the man, usually so meticulous about his dress, was in his shirtsleeves and only had carpet slippers on his feet but Raymond said that unhealthy minds did some inexplicable things.

Dolly, however, coming downstairs when she heard the
outside door slamming, was able to confirm that it was how Charles was dressed when he told her where to find Anna. She gave a start at a new thought. ‘He couldn’t really have known she was there, though, but he must have realised that, if I found her first, she would tell me if he’d suffocated her baby. Yes, that must be it and he’s decided to take a short cut to get to her before me.’

Raymond had also been putting two and two together. ‘He tried to jump across the burn but his old slippers skidded in the mud and he hit his head on something when he fell in.’ He gave an embarrassed cough. ‘You know, my first thought when I saw him lying there was that Anna had killed him but it couldn’t have been like that. Once she gets over everything, we’ll get the real story … as she knows it at any rate.’

Jerry had been persuaded to leave his wife in Tina’s hands – ‘Just till she gets her strength back,’ Dolly had said, diplomatically – and to go back to the grim old gatehouse on his own.

Devastated that he wasn’t being allowed to talk to Anna, he had a quick nap on the kitchen couch and rose about noon, to spend the rest of the day removing all traces of his beloved son from the house. He stacked the cradle and the pram in the outhouse farthest away from the back porch and then piled in all the tiny clothes, napkins and powder. With everything tidied away, he locked the door and put the key in his pocket. He didn’t want his wife to come across them but it was better to keep everything in case they had another baby some time in the future.

It was early evening when Tina Paul came to tell him that the Superintendent and his wife had disposed of the man’s body and the infant’s somewhere in the grounds. ‘They don’t want anybody to know. They’re scared The Sycamores would be closed down if the authorities hear about it. Anna’s given enough of an account to let them know Moonie was guilty and she needs absolute peace and quiet to get over what she’s been through – and so do you, my lad. You look all in. Mrs Miller says you can have tomorrow off as well so make the most of it.’

He forced himself to go into the other room after she left him and took off only his shirt and trousers before lying down. He had the whole double bed to himself yet he couldn’t sleep properly. He needed Anna and he was afraid that she would never get well enough to come back to him – that he would never hold her in his arms again … but surely she would recover. She had to get better!

The edge having worn off his initial heart-shattering shock at his son’s untimely death, Jerry Rae was to receive equally mind-numbing information from Tina Paul.

At first, she had told him sympathetically that his wife did not want to see him, which was bad enough, but then, as gently as she could, she passed on what she had prised out of Anna herself over the past three days.

His first reaction was to shout, ‘It’s not true!’ But, when she got him to admit that he had done nothing more than kiss Anna – even after they were wed – she reluctantly described the action needed to make a baby. First she used terms she had learned as a nurse and then the more common words he would understand. Despite his slowly dawning look of horror, she added, even more reluctantly, ‘And that’s what Moonie did – against her will! You must understand that, Jerry.’

In his mind, whether or not it had been done against her will, it had still been done … and not by him. He was not the father of the child! He could think no farther than that – not then – and, with a sob, he went into the nurse’s welcoming arms. As she knew, he desperately needed comfort from somewhere and she was the only one he could turn to. She had been thinking about this earlier and, when he at last drew sheepishly away from her, she murmured, ‘Why don’t you go home for a while, Jerry? Tell your mother and father what’s happened and they’ll help you to get over it.’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t. They don’t know anything about Anna. They don’t know I’m married. It was all so quick and things happened … two deaths in the family within weeks of each other and, not only that, my sister hasn’t heard from her
fiancé for months. She doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead. I couldn’t upset them any more, Tina. I just couldn’t.’

‘I’m sure they would want to know. I would if I was your mother. You can’t cope with this on your own and it’s not me you need. Now, you’ll likely think I’m being brutal but there’s one more thing you should know. Mr Miller’s had some doctors up from Aberdeen to test Anna and not one of them thinks she’ll ever get back to anything near normal.’ She waited for him to say something but his expressionless face made her wonder if this last blow had been too much for him to handle. There was only so much a human being could take.

At last, he lifted his downcast eyes again, with a look of torture such as she had never seen before. ‘Why are you telling me that? What do you want me to do?’

‘It’s up to you, Jerry, but you’re still very young and you’ve your whole life ahead of you. Why don’t you go away and start a new life somewhere else?’

He could scarcely believe his ears. ‘What about Anna? You can’t expect me to leave her, Tina? I love her. What happened wasn’t her fault.’

Her heart going out to him, she said, softly, ‘I grant you that but she’ll never be a real wife to you again.’ Recalling that he and Anna had both admitted that their marriage had never actually been consummated, she added, gently, ‘She never
was
a real wife to you, you know that.’

‘I was happy the way we were. I love her and that’s all that matters.’

‘If that’s how you feel, I don’t suppose there’s anything I could say to make you change your mind.’ As she left, Tina looked back at him in concern. ‘Please, Jerry, talk it over with your family before you decide what to do.’

He stared into the fire for some time after the door closed. He could never leave Anna, no matter what. He didn’t care if she didn’t want to be a proper wife to him, as long as she got well enough to come home to their cottage and he could see her every day … and night. As he visualised this, the first prickle of doubt set in. Would he really be content with that?
Now that he knew the facts of life, could he lie beside her every night and not touch her? His body had needed her before, when he didn’t know what was happening to him, but she had rejected him. Could he withstand rejection now? She had protested that she didn’t want to be hurt. Had Moonie hurt her? Would he ever manage to banish that man from his mind when he was with his wife? Would the spectre of that monster forcing himself on her ever go away?

The seventeen-year-old realised then that Tina Paul had been right. He needed his family. He needed his mother! She would tell him what to do. She wouldn’t judge Anna for letting Moonie into her house when she’d had no choice. She would likely be angrier with
him
for not telling her about his marriage. About the baby … her grandson? But he hadn’t been her grandson, of course. God, what an awful mess!

Jerry’s brain was too active for sleep that night and he sat by the fire going over and over everything that had happened since he had first seen Anna – trying to sort out his true feelings about the events of the last three days. Finally, as the little clock on the mantelshelf struck six, he rose to make himself ready for work. It would be better to keep himself occupied instead of constantly tormenting himself like this.

Pouring some water from the kettle into the old tin mug he had lately started to use and taking the cut-throat razor Dod Lumsden had given him out of its box, he stood in front of the dresser mirror to remove the downy growth from his chin. He had just made two careful strokes when the door burst open and Tina ran in, her eyes almost popping out of her head when she saw what he had in his hand.