Murders in the Blitz (23 page)
It was quite by chance that Eve bumped into Lady Passmore the next morning. Grace had sent Eve to the shop to get groceries. Her ladyship, a woman of uncertain age, probably about fifty five, was resplendently dressed in finery that Eve would have expected her to wear for lunch at the Ritz. Her stylish outfit was completed with a fox fur stole of alarming realism; its mummified head still attached and a tortoiseshell clasp holding the tail between its teeth. She was giving Mrs Forbes a hard time.
‘But I told you a week ago that I needed them. Why haven’t they been ordered?’
‘I did ask, milady, but there’s such a shortage and we haven’t seen any for months.’ Eve could almost hear her murmuring: ‘There is a War on, you know,’ under her breath, the common mantra uttered by people on whom unreasonable demands were made.
‘Well, it’s most unsatisfactory. I want them for a dinner party at the weekend. The Mayor is coming.’
‘I’m sorry, milady. We do what we can.’ Mrs Forbes withdrew her attention from lady Passmore for a moment. ‘Good morning, Miss Duncan.’
Lady Passmore wheeled around and regarded Eve with suspicion in her shrewd dark eyes.
‘Do I know you?’ she barked.
‘This is Miss Duncan, Lady Passmore, Mrs Pritchard’s sister,’ said Mrs Forbes.
‘Ah.’ Her ladyship stitched an almost-smile to her lips. ‘Yes, of course. Grace told me you were coming to stay.’
Eve regarded the woman with surprise. This dragon was on first-name terms with her sister?
‘I’ve come to help with the evacuees. It’s a lot of extra work for her.’ She felt defensive in the face of the woman’s attitude.
‘Of course it is – so unfortunate; one has no idea what sort of families these children come from or what they’ll get up to. Such a bad influence on the village children.’
‘They are a bit of a handful, but we’re managing all right, thank you.’ Eve resented the implication that the evacuees were beyond the pale. She could only assume that Lady Passmore was a terrible snob and would consider anyone from the East End of London undesirable.
Her ladyship continued – she seemed to have forgotten her dispute with Mrs Forbes.
‘Grace and I are great friends. I often present the prizes at the school’s Speech Day. Such a capable man – Hugh – such a good influence on the children. You must all come to tea. How about this Saturday?’
Eve nearly laughed when she saw, behind Lady Passmore’s shoulder, Agnes Forbes’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline.
‘Thank you so much, Lady Passmore, that would be lovely. I’ll tell Grace when I get home.’
The overdressed woman swept towards the door. ‘Good. I’ll see you at 3.30 on Saturday at the Dower House. You can bring the children and let them play in the Park if you like. But they can’t come into the house.’ She slammed the shop’s door behind her with finality, causing the glass panel to rattle.
Eve drew the shopping list out of the basket and gave it to Mrs Forbes.
‘Well,’ the shopkeeper said, ‘you are honoured, tea at the Dower House.’
‘Don’t. She’s terrifying, isn’t she?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about her, her bark’s worse than her bite. And she’ll give you a good tea; her cook’s my sister and she bakes a lovely sponge cake.’
‘They’re lucky to have enough eggs,’ said Eve.
‘They’ve got an enormous hen house on the estate and a gamekeeper to keep the foxes away and slops from the hospital kitchen to feed them. Don’t you worry, they’ve plenty of eggs.’
Eve completed her shopping and walked back to the house with her burden. On the way she passed the village school where the children were out in the playground for their mid-morning break. They were dashing around making an enormous amount of noise. She stopped for a moment and watched them. Little Stan spotted her and waved. He looked pleased to see her, a gappy grin spread over his face and, since his attention was diverted from the game he was playing, he missed the ball that was thrown to him amidst jeers from the other boys. Eve stepped away and continued home, thinking how fond she was becoming of the children and how she’d miss all this when she went back to Shepherds Bush.
When Eve got in she told Grace about their invitation to tea with Lady Passmore.
‘Oh, how kind of her,’ Grace said. ‘Don’t worry, she’s not as bad as she seems at first. I think she’s lonely with Lord Passmore and her children away.’
‘I didn’t realise she had children. But of course, she must have.’
‘Yes, they had to have an heir at least. There are two grown up boys and a daughter in the ATS. One of the boys is in London, working with Winnie in the War Office, he’s the Viscount, the heir, and the other one is working on something very hush-hush – we’re not supposed to ask and they won’t talk about it.’
‘Goodness, how exciting!’
Eve was quite looking forward to tea with the countess now and hoped they might have a chance to look around the ancestral home.
‘Yes, we’ll be able to go up to the Hall if there’s time. Lady P is always up there taking in books and things for the wounded soldiers and the convalescents. Some of them are in pretty bad shape, but a lot of them are nearly ready to leave and go back to the fighting. I think Lady P plays cards with them and draughts and so on; she can be quite good company when she puts her mind to it.’
‘I imagine some of them must be dreading getting better. It sounds as if they have a pretty comfortable time there.’
Grace smiled sadly. ‘Yes, I expect you’re right. But they have to go back; they don’t have any choice unless their wounds are so bad that they’ll never be fit again. There are quite a few amputees, you know. It’ll take a while for them to adjust to ordinary life.’
Eve helped Grace put the shopping away and contemplated the fate of the injured soldiers. If she had time she would like to meet some of them, she was sure they’d like some female company other than the snobbish Lady Passmore.
*
Saturday turned out to be sunny for once and at three o’clock, dressed up in frocks thought suitable for tea with the aristocracy and with Hugh in tow, wearing his habitual tweed sports jacket and grey flannel bags – he refused to put on a suit on a Saturday however lofty the company – they walked out of the village towards Passmore Hall. The children, nine in all as June had given permission for her two evacuee girls to come, scurried around them, excited at the prospect of being allowed to explore the grounds of the stately home.
‘For goodness sake, behave yourselves,’ Hugh’d admonished before they left the house. ‘Keep all your clothes on, don’t walk on the flower beds and do as you’re told.’
It seemed that one of the under-gardeners, an asthmatic lad of nineteen who wasn’t fit for call-up, was to escort the children through the estate and see that they got up to no mischief. He met them at the intricately wrought gates to the property and took off with the children following in an excited gaggle.
Eve watched in trepidation as they trotted away, fully expecting the afternoon to end in disaster. But it wasn’t really her concern as Hugh and Grace had ultimate responsibility for the kids and they’d sanctioned this outing. You never know, she reminded herself, they may be fine. Eve had resigned herself to take pleasure in the afternoon. It would come as a tremendous relief to spend the time enjoying the comforts of a stately home and not have to even think about the horror of murder and dead bodies. She just hoped that Lady Passmore’s company didn’t prove to be too stuffy and judgemental; Eve hated being patronised.
Eve had brought Jake along and he was greeted at the gates by two over-wrought whippets, Lady Passmore’s pets, circling and sniffing with fast-wagging tails. Unlike his relationship with June’s bad-tempered pug, Jake took to these dogs immediately and the three tore off, dancing and leaping across the grass until they disappeared into the distance behind the children.
‘They’ll be fine,’ said Hugh. ‘Lady Passmore lets them run wild in the grounds. They’re very obedient and will come back when she whistles for them.’
Eve wished she could say the same for Jake.
They walked up the drive, at least a quarter of a mile long, under a green canopy of elm trees in full, rustling leaf and arrived at the Dower House on the dot of three thirty. Hugh knocked with the lion’s head brass door knocker. A maid in uniform opened the door and ushered them into the cool hall. If this was merely the Dower House, Eve thought as she walked into the tiled and panelled vestibule, what must the big house be like? The place reeked of wealth; only the very best of everything furnished this dwelling. She could see that more furniture than was usual crowded the rooms in a clutter of tables, chairs, cabinets and consoles. Paintings of all sizes covered the walls and more, some wrapped in brown paper, were stacked at the sides of the rooms.
After greeting the trio, Lady Passmore noticed Eve regarding the mass of furnishings.
‘I can see you’re wondering why there’s so much furniture in here, Miss Duncan. I’ll explain. When the military requisitioned the house and I moved in here, I brought most of the best pieces with me – the most valuable – we couldn’t have the Sheratons and Hepplewhite damaged by the riff raff. Of course some things were far too big and heavy to transport up here and would have looked out of place in this little cottage, so they’ve been stored in the basements of the Hall.’
Little cottage indeed, thought Eve, this gaff’s enormous and I can see it must have at least five bedrooms as well as servants quarters. She nodded in understanding and Lady Passmore seemed satisfied with her reaction and continued with the tour. Grace and Hugh admired everything with voluble praise, causing Eve to cringe at their sycophancy, but she imagined they felt that they had to live with their neighbour and didn’t want to offend her. Eve thought the place over-furnished, over-decorated and thoroughly under-inhabited. All this space for just one woman!
When he had the opportunity, Hugh whispered in her ear. ‘We’ve been here several times, of course. But we go through this every time, she does so love having her house admired. Noblesse oblige.’ He chuckled.
Eventually they finished the circuit and were seated in the drawing room, overlooking a wide terrace and the garden, with a wonderful view of Passmore Hall and the countryside it presided over. Eve perched on the edge of a silk-upholstered armchair and admired the panorama. What she’d give to live in a house like this. The room, with its pale silk upholstery and huge arrangements of flowers spilling out of cut glass vases filling the air with fragrance, made Eve feel quite envious.
The maid wheeled in a tea trolley and then brought in one of those folding cake stands with four tiers each set with a plate of various sandwiches, scones with jam and cream and the famous sponge cake. Eve hadn’t seen such an abundance of luxury food in ages and, as soon as she decently could, she tucked in, savouring every mouthful. Fortunately, the maid had furnished her with a delicate walnut side table on which to put her plate and tea cup. The task of balancing both in her hands and eating at the same time would have been beyond her. Mrs Forbes was right about the sponge cake, and the scones were delicious too.
Hugh and Grace were chatting amiably to her ladyship. They really did seem to be quite good friends, Eve thought. Lady Passmore turned to her after a while and asked her about the bones found in the wood.
‘How very exciting for you, my dear,’ she said. ‘Have you heard any more about whom the body might belong to?’
‘No. I’m afraid we may never know. It’s a complete mystery. You see, no-one from the village is missing, everyone would know if they were.’
‘I expect the person’s identity will come to light in time. These things rarely remain a mystery for long.’
‘I am sure you’re right,’ said Eve, trying to be polite, although she didn’t hold out much hope of the identification happening while she remained in the village. She’d have to go back to London and her work soon, however much she dreaded it. Mr Gibbon had written last week begging her to return as one of his key workers had been killed by a bomb and he was understaffed. Eve couldn’t leave him struggling much longer; no more than a week at most.
They stopped in mid-conversation when they caught sight of a phalanx of children marching in stately formation across the lawn below the terrace. The under-gardener and a soldier in uniform with a bandaged head were instructing them to swing their arms in military fashion with poles and sticks over their shoulders in place of rifles. They were all completely wrapped up in the game and didn’t notice the adults watching from the Dower House windows. Her ladyship’s two whippets and Jake danced around the parade, barking their heads off, clearly having the whale of a time.
‘Lovely!’ Lady Passmore turned away from the window with a smile warming her normally severe features. ‘They’re having a marvellous time. My own children used to do exactly the same thing when my husband was home. They loved parading up and down like soldiers.’ Her face saddened as she remembered that her family were all away, even though the boys were in relatively safe jobs in the bunkers of Whitehall. ‘Well, never mind that. Let’s finish our tea.’
By half past five it was time to go. The task of herding the children together proved easier than Eve had anticipated. They’d been given a substantial meal in the kitchen of the big house and, walking home, they were full of the lavishness of the fare, which had included pork pies and fruit cake, and the generosity of the army cook. Jake, as Eve had expected, proved to be more difficult to corral and he protested at leaving his two skinny friends. But, with the help of two boys, the under gardener and Hugh rounding him up like cowboys capturing an errant steer, Eve managed to hook him on to his lead at last and they walked home.
