Motive for Murder (13 page)

Business as usual, I thought grimly. In the clear light of day, my morbid imaginings of the night before seemed ludicrous and I dismissed them from my mind.

The fire was already burning in the hall, although the day was milder and the sun breaking through the massed clouds. It made the passage oppressively warm. I found that Matthew, no doubt of the same mind, had flung open the French windows in the library and was standing gazing out over the lawn.

He acknowledged my arrival merely with a gesture of his hand. After sitting in silence for a while, I said tentatively, ‘Shall I read back what we did yesterday?'

‘Um?'

‘Would you – ?'

‘Oh – yes.' He turned from the window, and I noticed dark rims under his eyes. It seemed he'd slept no better than I had. ‘Yes, please.'

Usually a few minutes of this was enough to restart his train of thought, but today he didn't stop me, letting me read the entire passage.

When I stopped there was another silence.

He moved back to his desk, sat down and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I don't seem to be thinking very clearly this morning. I'm sorry, I'm wasting your time.'

‘It's all right,' I murmured awkwardly.

‘Are you seeing Mike today?'

I looked up in surprise. ‘I think we all are, aren't we? Kate – I mean Mrs Haig –'

‘Oh yes, of course. He didn't – ?' he broke off.

‘Didn't what?'

‘Nothing. Oh hell, look I really am sorry. My brain just isn't functioning today.'

‘Shall I make you some coffee? That might clear your head.'

‘Would you? I'd be very grateful.'

I put my blank notebook on the chair and opened the library door. And there was Kate, comfortably ensconced in one of the leather armchairs with the Sunday papers. She was wearing royal blue trousers and a cherry-red top. She looked, I thought acidly, as though she were on the deck of a luxury liner.

‘That was a brief session,' she remarked.

‘We haven't started yet. I'm going to make some coffee.'

‘Be an angel and bring me a cup, too.'

I nodded and walked stiffly down the passage, aware of her eyes following me. In the kitchen, Mrs Johnson turned in surprise from peeling potatoes.

‘We'd like our coffee a little early this morning,' I told her. ‘It's all right, you carry on – I'll do it.'

‘Very well, miss. Thank you. Is Madam down yet?'

I bit my lip. ‘Yes, I'm making a cup for her, too.'

‘The fire's going all right, is it?'

‘It's fine.'

The percolator seemed to take for ever. I stood watching it, holding my mind carefully blank. When at last it was ready, I poured the coffee into three cups and added milk, watching the liquid change into the colour of Kate's blouse the night before.

‘Would you like some, Mrs Johnson? There's plenty.'

‘No thank you, my dear. Can't say as I fancy it. I'll make myself a nice pot of tea when I've finished they potatoes.'

She put the cups on a cloth-covered tray, and opened the door for me. I carried it carefully down the passage.

Kate uncurled herself like a cat and reached for her cup. ‘If you're not working, have yours here with me.'

I hesitated. ‘I think we'll be starting as soon as we've had this.'

She smiled, and the tiny electric current pricked again at my spine.
‘Ask
him.'

I opened the library door. Matthew was sitting as I'd left him, his head resting in his hands.

‘Mrs Haig is out here – will you join her for coffee?'

He looked up. ‘Very well.' He came out of the room with my desk chair in his hand. ‘No, it's all right, Miss Barton, you sit there – I'll have this one.'

‘“Miss Barton”!' Kate mimicked, as I seated myself in the second armchair. ‘God, you're so stuffy, Matthew! Call the child Emily, and be done with it!'

Matthew's face whitened.

I said quickly, ‘This is in working hours, Kate.'

‘And he's always pompous when you're working? How do you put up with it?'

As I struggled to find a reply, Matthew commented, ‘Since I so obviously annoy you, I'm surprised you asked me to join you.'

She turned on him a smile of false sweetness. ‘Actually, I didn't. I invited Emily, and she asked you.'

‘I see. Then I beg your pardon.'

‘Oh, stop it, both of you!' I broke in before I could prevent myself. Matthew's head jerked in my direction, and Kate raised her delicate eyebrows.

‘I'm – sorry,' I muttered.

‘Not at all – Emily – it's we who should apologize.' Matthew drained his cup and replaced it on the tray. ‘Thanks for the coffee, but I'm afraid it hasn't worked. I'm still not in the mood for work, so I'll go straight down to the golf club. The rest of the day is your own.'

‘Will you be back for lunch?' Kate asked.

‘Probably not, I'll eat there.' He stood up, carried the chair back into the library, and came out again, closing the door behind him. He looked down at us and I thought for a moment he was going to say something. Then he apparently changed his mind and disappeared down the passage.

Kate laughed.

I said involuntarily, ‘Why do you try to hurt him all the time?'

‘Oh I don't,' she said softly, ‘Not
all
the time.'

I stood up. ‘I'm afraid it's rather warm for me here. I think I'll take Sarah for a walk – she'll be at Sunday school this afternoon.' I'd forgotten I was speaking to the child's mother till I saw her amused smile. I wondered whether to apologize, ask permission or include her in the invitation, but before I could make up my mind she reached down for the newspaper and I made my escape.

It was a blue and gold day, with autumn in the air. Sarah, delighted at the unexpected outing, skipped and danced at my side.

‘Let's go to the farm and see Uncle Mike!' she suggested.

‘He'll probably be busy, though he did say there was a new calf.'

We had already turned up the track. The high spiky hedges were jewelled with berries and the gorse at our feet was yellowing. A heavy dew still lay on the thick grass where the sun had not reached. Above us the sky was clear and an aeroplane, droning like a sleepy bee, left a cobweb of white across the blue.

Sarah said suddenly, ‘I told you Mummy was beautiful, didn't I?'

In the eye of the beholder, no doubt, I thought, smiling down at her. ‘You did.' I confirmed. But was she? She was finely drawn, a thoroughbred, with her long neck, her lean body and slender feet. She was vibrant and tantalising; she was elegant and carelessly sophisticated, but her nose was too thin and her eyes too deep-set for beauty, and her warm, passionate mouth belonged in a softer face. As hard as nails, I thought, and was surprised by my vehemence.

But Sarah was satisfied and ran on ahead of me, startling some sheep which bucked clumsily out of the way like frightened hearth rugs. Now that we were climbing, the sea became visible again, still and blue in the bay.

‘I wish I didn't have Sunday school,' Sarah said rebelliously. ‘Mummy said she's going to the beach this afternoon.'

‘Perhaps she'll still be there when you get back.'

Sarah pouted. And I'll be at school all day tomorrow. I don't seem to have seen her at all!'

‘You were with her yesterday,' I reminded her.

Sarah nodded.

‘Do you know what? She asked if I'd like to live in London!'

I stopped, frowning. ‘And would you?'

She clasped her hands. ‘Oh, yes! Seeing the Queen, and Big Ben, and everything!'

I laughed. ‘You wouldn't see much of the Queen, poppet!'

‘But she lives in London, doesn't she?'

It was impossible to explain the vastness of the city to this country child, whose world was bounded by the comfortable friendliness of Chapelcombe. ‘London's a big place,' I said lamely.

Sarah's dragonfly mind darted on to something else, but I wondered for a while what had prompted Kate to ask the question.

Chapel Farm lay gleaming in the sunshine. As we approached, a man in corduroy trousers came out of the stables and stopped on seeing us. Then he smiled shyly at me and said, ‘Your uncle baint here, Miss Sarah. Had to go out early this morning.'

‘Benson, can we see the new calf?'

‘Ah, so it's the little fella you're interested in! Right-ho then, come along.'

He touched his forehead to me in a delightfully old-world gesture and led the way into the clean, pungently sweet-smelling byre. It was warm, and sunlight filtered through the door on to the clean straw which lay on the floor. Benson went ahead of us and slapped gently at the brown and cream hindquarters of the animal in the end stall. ‘Move over, lass, and let Miss Sarah see the little un.'

‘Oh!' Sarah gasped ecstatically. The tiny animal stood beside its mother, great mournful eyes staring up at us, and twitching tail. ‘What's he called?'

‘Well now, he's entered in the book as Stacey's Pride, but I own we don't call un that!'

Sarah's eyes were still fixed on the enchanting little creature. ‘What do you call him, then?'

Benson laughed and scratched his head. ‘Up to now I been calling un Titch!'

‘Titch', Sarah repeated. ‘That's what Uncle Mike used to call me, but I'm too big now.' Across her head the cowman's kindly eyes met mine. Sarah reached out a hand to scratch the top of the head between the silken bumps that would grow into horns. The little animal lifted his head back and rolled his long, rough tongue round her fingers.

‘No milk there,' smiled Benson and Sarah gasped as the searching tongue rasped her flesh. The cow turned her head and watched us with liquid eyes, but she appeared to accept our admiration with equanimity. The delicate ears flicked back and forth.

‘We must be going, Sarah,' I said quietly, ‘or we'll be late for lunch.' I turned to Benson.

‘Thank you for letting us look at him.'

We walked out of the dim stall into the bright sunlight of the cobbled yard.

‘I wish I lived on a farm!' Sarah exclaimed, relinquishing the Queen without a backward glance.

I smiled and took her hand. ‘Come along, I'll race you to the top of the hill!'

Matthew kept to his intention of lunching at the golf club and the rest of us had a light­hearted meal. Sarah chatted incessantly about the calf and how she wished she lived on a farm. I saw Kate's eyes on her speculatively, but she made no comment.

The bracing walk had cleared my head of any lingering uneasiness and I was ready to shrug off my nebulous fears as heightened imagination. Impossible to suppose there could be any threat to us, sitting here in the sun-filled dining-room.

‘Do change your mind and come down to the beach Emily!' Kate urged me.

‘Well .. ' I wasn't too anxious for her company.

‘Please!' she added.

‘All
right. I suppose after the end of the month there won't be many more chances to go-'

‘You are lucky –' Sarah began.

‘Hush, Sarah,' interposed Miss Tamworth. ‘You've had a long summer holiday, but Sunday afternoons are set aside for church, as well you know.'

‘Mummy doesn't go to church,' Sarah protested.

‘That,' said Miss Tamworth with a glint in her eye, ‘is her affair.' I had myself seen Miss Tamworth setting off in unbecoming grey as I made my way to the library that morning.

‘Mummy is beyond redemption,' said Kate lightly, and again I felt the extra-sensory quiver.

Miss Tamworth frowned reprovingly and Sarah said with her mouth full, ‘What's redemption?'

‘Nothing you need trouble your head about,' retorted Miss Tamworth sharply.

Kate tossed her napkin on the table and stood up. ‘See you at tea, Sarah. Put in a prayer for me! Come on, Emily.'

Silently I followed her from the room and we went upstairs to collect our beach things. We did not speak as we walked together down the path to the main road. There was an off­shore breeze and as we came out of the shelter of the high hedges it blew us forward with gusty breaths.

‘I hope it will be warm enough down there,' I said doubtfully, remembering the blowing sand on my last visit.

‘It will if we sit against the cliff. This is the bay where the girl was drowned, isn't it? Strange business, that.'

‘Strange?'

‘That she could have drowned on such a calm day. Apparently there wasn't a breath of wind.'

‘I suppose if you can't swim, you can't swim, and that's all there is to it.'

‘Perhaps you're right.' Kate slung a sweater over her shoulder and one of its sleeves knocked the sunglasses out of my hand. They landed on the grass just where the little track I'd noticed before ran round the face of the cliff.

‘Do you know where that comes out?' I asked, as I bent to retrieve them.

‘Not really – it probably meanders round to the next bay.' She waited for me to rejoin her, staring out to sea with her hand shading her eyes.

‘I should keep to the inside edge,' I advised. ‘It's very steep round the next corner.'

‘Yes, I know.'

I flushed. Again, I'd forgotten that Kate wasn't a stranger here, and this wasn't the first time she'd been down to the bay. However, she didn't notice my confusion.

‘What do you think of Mike?' she demanded.

I said evasively, ‘He's good fun.'

‘He's too good-looking by half,' Kate said shortly, ‘It ensures that he always gets his own way.'

‘Not with me, he won't!' I said emphatically, and she gave a brief laugh.

‘Good for you!'

The sand was warm and soft sifting through my sandals. I was glad of the book I'd brought; I did not relish the thought of an entire afternoon's conversation with Kate.