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BOOK: Ann Granger
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There was no way of telling whether this story was true. He certainly looked old enough to have served in the army as a boy. But as he was ill-washed, unshaven and his hair uncombed and straggling, he might have looked older than he was. I climbed up into the carriage but he grasped the sleeve of Fletcher who followed me.
‘You’re a fine gentleman, ain’t you, sir? You ain’t a peeler. I’m only trying to keep body and soul together. You understand, sir, don’t you?’
‘Let go of me!’ snapped the goaded Fletcher, snatching his sleeve from the other’s grimy grip. ‘Oh, very well, then!’ He dug in his pocket again and some coins changed hands. ‘Now, do go away!’
‘Hooray!’ cried some of the crowd in approval. Others laughed and informed us that would keep the ale running.
The beggar raised a forefinger to his brow in salute. ‘Bless you, sir, the angels has a book where they writes the names of all those who show charity to the unfortunate. And the devil has probably got a book where he puts the names of all the peelers!’
With that he hobbled away towards a nearby tavern. The crowd, appreciating the last sally, applauded him as he went.
‘It has proved an expensive morning for you, Mr Fletcher,’ I said, trying not to laugh as we rolled away to a last rousing cheer from the crowd and a deep bow from the elderly Chinese man.
‘I don’t know what Mullins was doing, allowing the fellow to hang about waiting for us,’ Fletcher grumbled, wiping sweat from his brow. ‘I don’t know why you couldn’t have arrested him.’
‘And put him in this carriage with us to take him to the nearest
police station? I didn’t think you’d want it. Come now, I applaud your generosity.’
Fletcher positively glowered at me. ‘As for my generosity, you were happy to make free with it and spend on my behalf back there. I don’t see why it should have cost me two shillings at the boarding house to buy the cooperation of that frightful harridan! She told us nothing.’
‘Really? She told us quite a lot to my mind. However, if we were to be sure she’d pass on the message, the two shillings were necessary. It compensates her also for the loss of the razor.’
‘Then I don’t see why you couldn’t have paid it!’ he retorted sulkily.
‘You are his employer. Besides it is not police policy to disburse monies to witnesses.’
Fletcher subsided and only muttered, ‘I don’t see she told us anything. Adams is probably lying stone drunk somewhere.’
‘Has he failed to turn up for work before on account of drink?’
Fletcher admitted the man had not.
‘And the landlady said he was not a drunkard,’ I reminded him.
Fletcher made no reply to this. ‘Why do you want the razor, anyway?’ he asked in a plaintive tone.
‘Because the landlady will sell it and it is not hers to sell. Adams paid his rent in advance and owes her nothing. Next week, if he hasn’t returned, she will let the room to a fresh tenant, as you heard her say. Adams may yet turn up, and I can return his property to him. Besides, it’s a fearsome weapon and I don’t like it lying around ownerless in such a place. Anyone may get their hands on it.’
‘What if he doesn’t come back?’ Fletcher asked miserably. ‘How am I to replace him?’
‘I have no idea!’ I snapped. I had had quite enough of Fletcher for one morning. I requested him to set me down at the first convenient spot and returned to my office. Luckily Morris was there.
‘We’ve lost him!’ I said briefly to the sergeant as I entered. ‘I’ll go back to the demolition site and see if he’s turned up again, but to my mind he’s gone for good.’
Morris looked glum. ‘Done a runner, has he, sir?’
‘Possibly, but I doubt it.’
I gave him a brief account of my morning’s experiences, adding, ‘If Adams is lying anywhere it is not stone drunk, I’d put my last penny on that. It is far more likely to be stone dead. I don’t like it when, in the middle of a murder investigation, a man who may have valuable information, who has been as regular as clockwork in turning up for work and in paying for his lodging, suddenly goes out of an evening and doesn’t come back. We shall be lucky to speak to him now and so will anyone else.’
I took out the razor in its leather sheath and put it on the table. ‘He would not have left this razor, Morris, if he fled of his own free will. Also, as Mr Fletcher informed us, today is pay day for the navvies and Adams would need a powerful reason to prevent him collecting his beer money. Contact Thames Division at Wapping. Send them a description of the man. I am dreadfully afraid this will prove a job for Thames Division, and Adams will be pulled from the river.’
Elizabeth Martin
 
I WASN’T sure what action Aunt Parry would take with regard to her new information but I felt in my bones she would take some. The first thing she did utterly surprised me, however.
I was in my room the following morning, Saturday, when a knock at the door heralded Nugent, who came in bearing laid across her outstretched forearms a shimmering froth of Indian tussore silk in the palest shade of gold like a ripening exotic fruit.
‘The mistress is wondering, Miss Martin, if you could make use of this gown? It was one made for the mistress when she and the late master went on their wedding journey. It would need some altering to bring into modern fashion but Mrs Parry’s usual dressmaker could do it.’ Nugent shook out the gown and held it up. The folds of silk billowed to the floor with a soft seductive rustle. ‘Or if there wasn’t much to do, I could probably do it, miss. I’m good with a needle.’
I hardly knew what to say but Nugent was standing there, still holding up the gown, and waiting for a reply.
‘It is very kind of Mrs Parry,’ I managed at last. ‘I’ll go and thank her immediately if she’s able to see me.’
The gown looked about my size. Aunt Parry had once been somewhat slimmer! The main alteration would need to be in the sleeves which were set rather low in a previous fashion.
I took the gown from Nugent. It weighed almost nothing in comparison to my other dresses. The fine wild silk crumpled in my hand like thinnest tissue paper. ‘I sew a little,’ I said. ‘If you would help me, I’m sure we could manage something without troubling the dressmaker.’
I could not refuse the gift, but I was determined not to expose myself to the slightly pitying look of the seamstress called in to alter a second-hand gown for the impecunious companion of a rich woman.
‘Right you are, miss!’ said Nugent, sounding quite cheerful. It occurred to me she was looking forward to tackling the beautiful material. ‘I’ll tell the mistress. I’ve already had a look at it, miss. It won’t take that long. We’ll unstitch the sleeves; see here, where they are set into the yoke. Then we can take a small panel from the skirt, there is plenty, and use it to make puff sleeves which we can sew on to the top of the narrow sleeves and then reattach the whole lot to the bodice, just reshaping the holes for the sleeves first.’
‘Are you sure, Nugent?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘Bless you, miss, I’ve done more difficult sewing than that. When the mistress – I shouldn’t say this – but when she began to put on a little weight, I had to let out all her gowns and some of them, it wasn’t easy. In the end, she had a new lot made, fashions changing and that.’ Nugent patted the tussore gown complacently. ‘I always did like this one. The master’s business imported all kinds of beautiful materials from the East and this was some of it. The only thing is, I don’t have any matching silk thread in my sewing box.’
‘That is no problem,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll go and buy some today.’
She left me alone. I spread the gown out on the bed and stared down at it, trying to order my emotions.
It was not merely wounded pride I felt. Obviously my lack of wardrobe had been noted. It would be wrong of me to take offence, despite the embarrassment. I told myself I ought not to be
ungrateful for a gift kindly meant. But had kindness alone played a part in it? Aunt Parry did not want me appearing night after night at the dinner table in the same dress. That would be disagreeable to her. I realised this and understood it. It was not that which made me suspicious: there was something else, another explanation, and I didn’t like it.
Since my conversation yesterday with Aunt Parry I no longer trusted her motives. She had been quick enough to see that her worldly reaction to my news of my childhood acquaintance with the inspector had gone down badly with me. She wished to erase any unfavourable impression she might have made. She also wanted me on her side. If she was to use my connection with Ross it would be necessary. In that light, the beautiful gown took on the appearance of a bribe.
I went at once to Aunt Parry’s room to thank her for her gift. Delay would only make me more confused and my speech of gratitude more halting. I found her propped up in bed on a mound of feather pillows. She wore a frilled nightgown and a lace nightcap, and was sipping tea from a delicate china cup patterned with roses. She had been examining her morning post, but put it aside and received me and my thanks graciously, before waving me away and saying I should return later to discuss it. I left, but not before I had noticed that one of the letters had the heading of the railway company.
I supposed this meant I wouldn’t be free to go and do my shopping until much later. Sure enough, Nugent reappeared towards eleven to say Mrs Parry wished to give her opinion on what we should do with the tussore silk and so we repaired once more to her boudoir. Matters had progressed and now I found Aunt Parry seated before her dressing table, her hair neatly coiled and pinned leaving only a couple of lovelocks to curl either side of her plump cheeks. In stead of a peignoir she was wearing a silk kimono embroidered with chrysanthemums (‘From the East, too!’ whispered Nugent in my ear).
As for the dressing table, I don’t think I’d ever seen so many aids to feminine toilette in one small area. Glass perfume sprays jostled jars of hand creams and bottles of skin tonic, little pots of rouge, brushes, combs, pins and a pair of curling tongs. Nowhere was there any sign of the correspondence I’d seen her reading earlier.
Nugent and I explained our dress-altering intentions and Aunt Parry said she supposed that would do it, but would it not be possible … ? Then followed a long list of suggestions, none of which were very practical. I suspected that if Aunt Parry had done some sewing in her youth then, other than the obligatory sampler, it had been restricted to hemming handkerchiefs and darning stockings. Nugent and I listened attentively and thanked her but exchanged glances signifying we would stick to our original plans.
‘Sit down, my dear,’ said Aunt Parry, when Nugent had carried away the tussore silk.
I sat down on a small velvet-covered stool.
‘I have had more on my mind than your wardrobe, my dear. I have been giving matters in general a lot of thought,’ began Aunt Parry. She paused to sigh and went on, ‘Although with the sad affair of poor Madeleine’s death hanging over us it’s a wonder I can think of anything else. I’ve really become quite melancholy about it and I do wish an end could be put to the whole thing.’
She paused for the barest moment to ascertain that I had taken heed of her viewpoint and would remember it when I next saw my old acquaintance, Inspector Ross. She then began again briskly, Madeleine apparently relegated to some other area of her consciousness dedicated to mourning.
‘There comes a time when one must adopt a worldly approach and speak frankly. I hope you will allow me to do so and understand that I have nothing but your best interests at heart.’ She patted my hand.
Hand-patting as a gesture I have always treated with misgivings; generally it is a prelude to bad news.
‘Yes, Aunt Parry,’ I said as she had paused and a reply was obviously expected. I wondered just what was coming next.
‘You are not a bad-looking young woman, Elizabeth,’ she informed me in a kindly tone, ‘although no beauty and of course you have no personal fortune. Nor are you, shall we say, a girl.’
‘I shall be thirty on my next birthday, Aunt Parry.’
‘You certainly don’t look thirty,’ she said, eyeing me dispassionately, rather as though I had been an article of furniture. ‘You have kept yourself together very well.’
I thought I detected a slight note of resentment in her voice. Her attention was distracted from me for a second or two while she leaned forward over her dressing table to peer into the mirror. Something about her hair wasn’t to her liking and she fiddled with a chestnut lovelock.
‘Thank you, Aunt Parry,’ I said. I was doing my utmost not to laugh. Some people might have been insulted by this address but she looked so serious, sitting there in her extravagantly embroidered kimono, intended for the slender form of some Japanese lady. It was tightly wrapped round her and well secured with a silk cord, so that she resembled a sofa cushion of the bolster sort. A tray stood on a little table nearby and on it, in addition to the tea things I had noticed earlier, lay a plate with cake crumbs.
‘There are many older gentlemen,’ Aunt Parry said now, leaning forward in a confidential manner, ‘who find themselves either bachelors or widowers and desire to remedy the situation. They require a life’s companion who will be agreeable, good company, look presentable, preside over their table and entertain their guests, run their household … in short they are looking for a wife who will not vex them in the way a younger woman would. She wouldn’t want to be gallivanting around all the time, for example. Someone who will be, in time perhaps, a nurse-companion. There your being a doctor’s daughter might stand you in very good stead. As for your lack of fortune, I speak of gentlemen who are well established in life. They are not looking for a wealthy wife.
Nor do they seek sophistication. That you are, dear child, a penniless girl from the provinces would not be held against you.’
I pressed my lips together in order not to be caught gaping like a landed fish. What? Did this plump little woman, so ridiculous in her Japanese finery, imagine she looked sophisticated? As for the husband she proposed she should find for me …
Here I frowned and wondered whether she was describing my late godfather, Josiah Parry, at the time he had married her. Had not Aunt Parry then been a penniless parson’s daughter from the provinces, if Frank was to be believed? She certainly seemed to have it all well thought out. I was listening to the voice of experience.
‘I am, of course, delighted to have you as a companion and should be more than sorry to lose you, dear Elizabeth! But I believe you are deserving of your own household and place in the world. Josiah would have wished me to do my very best for you, and so I shall.’ She suddenly turned on me that smile of goodwill which I had already experienced and which I realised she could conjure up whenever she felt the moment required it. ‘I shall keep an eye open for you, Elizabeth.’
‘Really, Aunt Parry,’ I faltered, ‘I am more than grateful for your kind interest but I wouldn’t wish anyone to think I was husband-hunting, because I am not.’
‘Naturally!’ she said approvingly with a nod of her head. ‘You would not do anything so vulgar. But you’re sensible and I’m sure you know where your own best interests lie. Now, I need Nugent to help me dress, so run along, my dear. I’m driving out to Hampstead today with my dear friend, Mrs Belling, so you will be left to your own devices.’
I was more than happy to be left to my own devices and my own thoughts. She wanted me out of the house, so much was clear. Once all this distressing business of Madeleine’s murder was dealt with, and my link with Inspector Ross no longer of any potential use, I would become a liability. I had observed too much
already; my eye was too critical and my tongue too impetuous. I was not the meek, self-effacing companion required. I was, as the naval saying went, a loose cannon sliding dangerously about the deck in a rolling sea.
However, she could not dismiss me without good cause. I was her late husband’s god-child. Nor did she want me taking up a situation in another household where I might be tempted to talk about the goings-on in Dorset Square. Safely married! That was the answer. Safely locked into the bonds of matrimony with some elderly curmudgeon who wouldn’t let me out of his sight. An unpaid nursemaid to a valetudinarian in a bath chair! Pah!
A spurt of anger overcame me at that moment and caused me to throw a few cushions around my room. Never! Never, in any circumstances, would I take a husband of Aunt Parry’s choosing.
 
Mrs Belling, it seemed, kept a carriage. It drew up before the house at a quarter past twelve and bore Aunt Parry away to the delights of Hampstead.
‘What would you like for your luncheon, miss?’ asked Simms. ‘Mrs Simms has galantine of cold chicken.’
Concocted from the remains of the fowl which had supplied the previous day’s luncheon, no doubt, and followed by a close relative of the cold shape.
‘Tell Mrs Simms I thank her kindly, but really she needn’t bother about me. I have several errands to run and don’t require any luncheon. Mrs Simms provides a generous breakfast table!’
In truth I had only the silk thread to buy. I obtained a few strands from the seams of the tussore gown to provide a match and set out. I’m a good walker and by proceeding in more or less a straight line I found myself just below Marble Arch at the beginning of Oxford Street in no more than twenty minutes and set out along the famed street. Although I’d been so little time in the city I was already beginning to feel myself a Londoner, having quite lost my awe of its bustle and crowds, although not my
prudence. There were beggars and ragamuffin children a-plenty and some sharp-looking fellows who loitered with apparently nothing to do. One of them, I noticed, contrived to bump into an elderly gentleman walking ahead of me. The offender expressed his apologies, anxiously taking the other by the arm to steady him and hoping he was not hurt? He then hurried away and was soon lost in the crowd. The old gentleman walked on a little before a thought seemed to occur to him. He stopped, apparently searched for his wallet, and failed to find it.
BOOK: Ann Granger
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