True Love Ways (2 page)

At that, the older vicar, Reverend Mortimer
stiffened. “Are you the Reverend Andrew Cunningham by any chance?” he asked.

“Yes, that's right.”

“Peter Mortimer.” Mortimer held out his hand. “Vicar
of this parish. Well, Midchester parish, at least.”

“Ah, it's you I'm coming to see. Nice to meet you,
Peter.” The two men shook hands.

“We don't hold with vicars using their first names
in Midchester,” said Edith, sniffing loudly. “It doesn't instil respect. I
daresay you're one of those progressive types, letting this young man call you
Drew.”

“Guilty as charged,” said Drew. “The church is
becoming irrelevant in this day and age. It's up to us to make it relevant
again.”

Clarice looked at Drew with obvious appreciation, as
did Meredith and young Betty.

“Drew is brilliant,” said Betty. “He's kept Jimmy
out of trouble.” She looked proud, though what there was about the menacing Jimmy
to be proud of, Meredith was at a loss to understand.

“I'd like a chat with you, Drew,” said Peter
Mortimer. “Perhaps we could go along to the buffet car. You don't mind, do you,
darling?”

“Not at all,” said Clarice. “Edith and I can have
more time to get to know each other.” Meredith noticed an underlying tone in
Clarice's voice, suggesting that it was not high on her list of priorities. Not
that she blamed her. Edith clearly had no sense of humour. She reminded
Meredith of an early Christian martyr. It would no doubt be the happiest day of
Edith’s life if she were burned at the stake for her beliefs.  As the two men
left, Clarice said to Edith, “It was so good of you to come and meet us at
Stockport.”

“I had shopping to do, so I thought I'd wait till
you and Reverend Mortimer got back. Was the cruise nice?”

“Oh yes, it was wonderful.”

“Lots of dancing and drinking, I shouldn't doubt.”
Edith looked horrified and hopeful at the same time.

Clarice laughed. It was a deep, throaty laugh, and
caught the attention of both Jimmy and Bert. Despite the fact she was at least
twenty years older than the boys, they were not averse to her charms. “Yes,
Edith,” said Clarice, winking. “Lots of dancing, drinking. Not to mention all
the fornication.”

Edith harrumphed and Meredith looked resolutely out
of the window until she trusted herself not to laugh.

After a short time, Reverend Mortimer and Drew
returned. The Reverend took his seat, whilst Drew stood resting against the
door. There were no others seats for him to take in the carriage. They discussed
commonplace parish issues, like sermons and the best way to help parishioners.

“Are you travelling far?” It took a moment for Meredith
to realise that the old soldier opposite was speaking to her.

“I'm getting off at Midchester. What about you?”

“Hereford. I'm going home. I've just been to a
family funeral in Newcastle. Haven't seen my brothers since nineteen fourteen,
just before we all went off to war.”

“It must have been nice seeing them all again.”

“Oh yes. I married a Hereford girl, you see, and we
made our home there. I was in the police force until ten years ago.”

“Really. You must have had some interesting cases.
Murders and things.”

“Not that I can talk about,” said the old man,
clamping his lips together.

“No, of course not.” Meredith felt chastened.

“I mean, I can't give proper details, such as when,
where or who.”

“Of course, I understand.”

“Unless it’s a famous case. Out there in the public
eye, as it were. There's a lot go unsolved. Of course we always know who did
it, but it's getting the evidence. Like I knew all along that this man had
murdered his wife, but he had a solid alibi. Straight and upright sort of man,
too. That's why he got away with it. No doubt he's married again now, and maybe
she'll meet a sticky end. Another one we fancied the housemaid for it, but
there was no motive. We think the old girl said she was going to leave the maid
something in her will, and the girl thought she'd done it, then got a bit
impatient. Children are the worst though.”

“What? Murderers?” It seemed unlikely to Meredith.

“Oh yes. Evil little blighters some of them. We
never had children, my wife and I. That's because I saw too much. I said to
her, 'Myrtle, if we have kids, they'll stab us in our beds'.”

Meredith had a moment's sympathy for poor childless
Myrtle. “But what makes you think that?” she asked the old man. “Children are
so innocent.”

“Don't you believe it.” He tapped the side of his
nose. “Knew a case once – no names, no pack drill mind you. One parent
confessed and hanged for killing the other parent. But I knew it was the child.
Evil little so-and-so. Had a way of looking at you.”

“What became of the child?” asked Meredith.

“Lord knows. Sent off to live with some relatives,
looking innocent as a babe in arms.”

“Well let's hope they never killed again.”

“Don't you believe it, miss. Someone kills once,
they go and do it again. Like one case, a teenager stabbed a dozen people
before we caught him. Then he went and escaped. For all we know he could be
killing still.”

“We should get Peg Bradbourne on the case,” said
Peter Mortimer. It was only then that Meredith realised the whole carriage had
stopped to listen to the old policeman. Drew looked at Meredith and raised his
eyes heavenward. She sensed he didn’t believe a word the old man said.

“You know Peg Bradbourne?” asked Meredith.

“Why yes, she lives in Midchester. Why, do you?”

“She's my aunty.”

“Goodness, you're not little Meredith, are you?
Mary's girl?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“Do you know I've been sitting here wondering who
you remind me of,” said Peter Mortimer. “I don't suppose you know me, Meredith.
I remember you though, coming to the vicarage with your aunt, in pigtails.”

“I thought I'd seen you somewhere before. It's been
a while since I was at Midchester. I've been living with my other aunt in
Sheffield.”

“Ah, yes, I remember your aunty Sheila coming to
take you away. I take it you know about Peg's broken ankle.”

For the next half an hour, Meredith talked happily
with Reverend Mortimer about her memories of Midchester and visits to her Aunty
Peg's cottage. “I can still smell her strawberry jam,” said Meredith. “And her
boiled fruit cake. Aunty Sheila tries her best, but Aunty Peg got the best
baking skills, I think.”

“How did your aunts come to raise you?” asked
Clarice.

“My mother died during the war. She was the
youngest. Aunt Sheila and Aunt Peg were in their late teens when she was born,
and my grandmother died giving birth to mum. So in effect they were her
mothers. Then they became mine.” Meredith smiled sadly.

“What about your father?”

Meredith shrugged. “I don't know much about him. He
died before I was born.”

Edith coughed slightly, and seemed to be about to
say something, but then changed her mind. She sat with her lips tight together,
in a disapproving way, contemplating her coat buttons. It occurred to Meredith
that Edith knew the truth about her illegitimacy, as did the Reverend Mortimer
no doubt. Not that it had ever bothered Meredith. She had been given nothing
but love. Even Aunty Sheila, who was the more prim and proper of the sisters,
had never treated Meredith as if she had brought shame in the family. Despite
that, she found herself looking at Drew, wondering what he would think if he
knew the truth.

She had also lied to her new employers. Well not
exactly lied. Just didn't tell them. She guessed that the headmistress of
Willowmead Academy would not appreciate someone born the wrong side of the
blanket teaching the daughters of royals and industrialists.

“Of course,” said the old policeman, sounding peeved
at having lost his audience, “vicars are the ones you've really got to watch.
Have their hands in the collection box more often than not. And would kill to...”
He stopped talking and looked around the carriage. Drew appeared to have frozen
in time, and Edith's head shot up, forgetting about her coat buttons. Even the
younger people in the carriage had stopped whispering to each other and looked
at the old policeman.

“Yes?” said Meredith.

“What? Oh nothing. I'm going to get a cuppa from the
buffet car. Excuse me.”

Chapter Two

 When the old man had gone, Drew sat down in his
place, opposite Meredith and smiled. “I wonder how many airings those stories
have had over the years.”

“He's probably lonely,” said Meredith. “Getting
mixed up in murder, even at an official level, must help break the ice and
start a conversation.”

“Humph,” said Edith. “It wasn't much of a
conversation. And accusing men of the cloth of dishonesty. I don't care what
the Church of England says, or who they send...” she cast a hateful look in
Drew's direction, “they won't find any wrongdoing in Reverend Mortimer's
church.”

“I don't think he was accusing Peter,” said Clarice,
gently. “He was merely talking in general.”

“In general indeed,” said Edith. “He meant to cause
offence, and he did. All that talk about deceitful housemaids too. It's only in
fiction you get that sort of thing.” Edith stood up and left the carriage.

“Oh dear,” said Peter. “I'd better go and calm her
down.”

“Why?” asked Clarice.

“Because if she gets in a mood we shan't eat
tonight.”

“I could whip us up something.” Clarice laughed.

Peter kissed her nose. “Of course you could,
darling.” He left the carriage anyway.

“I suppose I ought to go and pour oil on troubled
waters too,” Clarice said to Drew. “She's determined not to like me.” It was
something that Clarice appeared to find mystifying.

“I'm going for a smoke,” said Jimmy. Betty left with
him, with Bert following soon after.

“Was it something we said, do you think?” said Drew,
on finding he and Meredith were alone in the carriage. “Not that I'm
complaining.”

“Are you really investigating Reverend Mortimer's
church?” asked Meredith.

“Oh, you picked up on that did you? Yes, I'm
something of a troubleshooter in the Church of England. You know, travelling
around, checking all is in order. Or simply taking over when some vicar has run
off with an actress.” He smiled wryly. “Not that I blame them. There have been
a few discrepancies in Reverend Mortimer's church. But it'll be something quite
simple, I'm sure. He doesn't seem to me to be a dishonest man.”

“No, nor to me. Not that I know him that well. I
didn't even recognise him at first. It's a long time since I was in
Midchester.”

“You don't know Edith then?”

Meredith shook her head. “Not at all. Or if she was
around then, I don’t remember. Careful, the old man is coming back.” She heard
the old policeman's voice in the corridor.

“Religious mania,” he was saying. “People kill for
religion.

“I suppose I ought to give him his seat,” said Drew.
But the man didn't come into the carriage again. He seemed content to stand in
the corridor, talking to a new audience.

He droned on in a monologue, hardly seeming to draw
breath. Every now and then his voice rose, as he became excited by some aspect
of murder. “Wouldn't be surprised if they murdered the uncle too... Stole the
car and went to sea, I reckon … Oh, about twenty thousand pounds in all … with
a hammer then put it back on the shelf as cool as you like … I never forget a
face ... came to me like a flash. Luckily I'm too much of a professional to
give the game away.”