The Devil`s Feather (28 page)

She pulled out the stapled pages and flicked through them. “OK, here it is. ‘Aga. Location…Functions…Recipe books…Cleaning…’ Well, one thing’s for sure, Madeleine never wrote this. It’s far too organized.” She ran her finger down a few lines. “ ‘Instructions for lighting.’ ” She read them in silence. “These wouldn’t help anyone—they’re straight out of a recent Aga manual and Lily bought hers second-hand about thirty years ago. It doesn’t say anything about having to open the valve first, which it should do if the agent closed it.”

I couldn’t see what she was getting at. “I expect it’s a standard page for all rented property with Agas. If I’d complained at the beginning, they’d have sent someone out to fix the problem, and then rewritten the instructions. You said Madeleine didn’t know how to light it, so presumably she never told them there was a trick to it.”

“But who closed the valve?” she asked. “The solicitor didn’t—he never went outside—and the agent didn’t or he’d have mentioned it in here.”

I shrugged. “Perhaps he forgot.”

“Or didn’t know.” She looked at the pile of slips again. “I think it was turned off at the end of November. I’ll bet you any money you like that’s when the last delivery was made. That’s why the tank was full. Lily never used any of the oil because the Aga was out.”

“She wouldn’t have had any hot water…wouldn’t have been able to cook.”

“Right.”

I watched her for a moment. “So what are you saying, that she turned it off herself? Why would she do that?”

“She wouldn’t,” said Jess slowly. “I doubt she even knew there was a valve…she was pretty ignorant about how things worked. In any case, the wheel was stiff when I turned it, and she had arthritis in her wrists—” She lapsed into a thoughtful silence. “I suppose she might have started worrying about the cost and asked the driver to do it.”

“But she wouldn’t have done that
after
he’d filled the tank. Not unless she’d lost the plot completely. She’d be billed anyway. Surely she’d have let it run dry…wouldn’t have called him at all…just waited till the Aga went out of its own accord.”

Jess ran her fingers into her hair and tugged ferociously at her fringe. “Then it must have been Madeleine. There’s no one else who would have done it. My God! She really
is
a bitch. She probably hoped Lily would die of hypothermia.”

I didn’t say anything.

“No wonder she went downhill so rapidly—Peter’s never understood that, you know—” Her frown gathered ferocity. “It would explain why she went looking for warmth in other people’s houses. She probably wanted a bath. They said she washed herself.”

There was a perverted kind of logic to it although it posed more questions than it answered. “Why didn’t she tell someone?”

“Who?”

“Peter? You?”

“I stopped coming and told her not to phone me anymore. She tried once or twice but I wiped the messages without listening to them.”

“Why?”

She shook her head, unwilling to answer that question. “She wouldn’t have told Peter,” she answered instead. “She was terrified he’d tell Madeleine she couldn’t cope. She was convinced she’d end up in an institution somewhere, wearing incontinence pads and tied to a chair. She kept newspaper clippings about old people being abused in homes after their relatives lost interest. It was sad.”

“Is that why you persuaded her to reassign the power of attorney?”

“I didn’t. She thought it up all on her own when Madeleine told her to hurry up and die, and do everyone a favour.”

“When was that?”

“August. She didn’t show again until Lily was taken into care…probably because she hoped neglect would do the job quicker.”

“But you don’t think the valve was closed until November,” I pointed out mildly.

“Madeleine didn’t have to see Lily to do that. She just had to go to the outhouse.”

“But she wouldn’t want the whole world knowing what she was up to. I mean, you’re effectively accusing her of wanting to murder her mother.”

“She’s quite capable of it.”

I doubted that but I didn’t say so. “Supposing Peter had been here…supposing
you
had been here? Supposing someone had seen her drive through the village?”

“It depends when it was. The Horse Artillery could ride through Winterborne Barton at midnight and none of that lot—” she jerked her head in the direction of the village—“would hear them. If they’re not deaf, they’re probably snoring their heads off.” She crossed her forearms on the table and hunched forward. “It’s the one time Madeleine could have got away with doing something like that. I’m the only person who ever came in here. Everyone else went into the drawing-room. Even Peter.”

I’d learnt from experience that it wasn’t worth repeating questions, because Jess never answered anything she didn’t want to. The only technique that seemed to work was to point out Lily’s failings, which usually provoked her into defending the woman. “It doesn’t explain why Lily didn’t do something about it herself. Peter says she was functioning adequately enough to go on living here alone, so why didn’t she look up a maintenance man in the Yellow Pages? A total stranger wasn’t going to have her committed.”

Jess stared at the table. “She was much worse than Peter realized. As long as she looked neat, and could open the door to him, and roll out a few amusing anecdotes without too much repetition, he thought she was coping. She was pretty good at the airs and graces stuff…forgot everything else…but not that.”

“Was it you who was making her neat?”

Her dark gaze rested on me for a moment. “I wasn’t going to do it forever but while she was still—” she made a small gesture of resignation. “She was frightened about going into a home…made me promise to keep her out as long as possible.”

“Difficult.”

“It wasn’t all bad. I learnt more about my family after Lily went senile than I ever knew before.” Her eyes lit up suddenly. “Do you know, she really envied them? I’d listened to this crap for years about how low-grade we were—straight out of the primeval sludge without a brain between us—then suddenly it’s not fair that trolls with congenital syphilis inherit the earth.”

I smiled. “So what did she say to make you angry?”

“Nothing.”

“She must have done. You wouldn’t have abandoned her otherwise. You’re too kind.”

For a moment, I thought she was going to come clean, but something changed her mind. Probably my mention of kindness. “She was taking up too much time, that’s all. I thought if I left her to cope on her own for a bit, Peter would realize how bad she was and organize proper care.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Fat chance. He relied on me to tell him if she went downhill…then vanished off to Canada for a month.”

I shrugged. “You can’t blame him for that. First you help Lily hide her condition, then you want to expose her. At the very least, you could have told Peter you’d stopped visiting. He’s not a mind-reader. How was he supposed to know Lily had lost her safety net? How was
anyone
supposed to know?”

An obstinate expression closed over her face. “You’re in the same position. Do you want me to send round a note if I decide to stop visiting you? Whose business is it except yours and mine?”

“I’m not ill. I can ask for help if I need it.”

“So could Lily. She wasn’t completely shot.”

“Then why didn’t she?”

“She did,” Jess said stubbornly. “She took herself to the village…and none of them did a damn thing about it.”

We’d been this route before. It’s where every conversation about Lily ended—with Winterbourne Barton’s perceived indifference. I sometimes felt it was Jess’s excuse. As long as she could accuse them, she didn’t have to address her own part in Lily’s rapid decline. Although in truth I couldn’t see that anyone was really to blame. There was no law that said Jess had to take the brunt of a demanding woman’s care indefinitely, and no law that said her doctor and neighbours should have foreseen their sudden falling out.

It was harder to excuse Madeleine because she was Lily’s daughter, but was she any better at guessing from London what was going on than the people on the ground? I was willing to accept Jess’s view of her character—grasping, vindictive, spiteful, selfish—but not that she had a supernatural intelligence. “How could Madeleine have known that she could turn the Aga off with impunity? Did she know that you and Lily had a row? Would Lily have told her?”

“We didn’t have a row. I just stopped coming.”

“OK. Would she have told her
that
?”

I saw from Jess’s sudden frown that she knew what I was driving at. She could hardly accuse Madeleine of attempted murder if Madeleine was as ignorant as everyone else. She didn’t dodge the question. “No,” she said flatly. “Madeleine would have wanted to know why.”

I went back to the question she wouldn’t answer. “So what did Lily say to you that made you angry? And was so awful that she couldn’t repeat it to her daughter?” I watched her lips thin to a narrow line. “Come on, Jess. You play slave to a first-class bitch for twelve years…drop her like a hot potato when she really needs you…then start defending her the minute she’s off your hands. Does that make sense to you? Because it doesn’t to me.”

When she didn’t say anything, I lost patience with her. “Oh, to hell with it,” I said wearily. “Who
gives
a shit? I’ve better things to do.” I stood up and fetched the axe and the lead-weighted walking-stick from beside the door. “Do you want to help me stash these things or are you going home in a huff?”

If her mutinous glare was anything to go by, she was certainly thinking about leaving, and it made me angry suddenly. She was like a spoilt child who used tantrums to get its own way, and I found I didn’t want to play anymore. “There’s only one person who might have turned off the valve, and that’s
you,
Jess. Who else knew where it was or what impact it would have on Lily? Who—
other than you
—knew you weren’t visiting any more?”

With a funny little sigh, she pulled the pile of notes towards her and started tearing them up.

I made a half-hearted move towards her. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Why not? Who do you want to show them to? The police? Peter? Madeleine?” She picked up the pieces and transferred them to the sink. “Can I borrow your lighter?”

“No.”

She shrugged indifferently before pulling a booklet of matches from her back trouser pocket. “It’s not what you think,” she said, striking a light and setting fire to the flimsy pile.

“It seems very clear to me.”

She put out an arm to hold me back, although I wasn’t thinking of stopping her. I couldn’t see the point of getting into a fight over evidence that was certainly duplicated in the oil suppliers’ records, and I wondered why Jess hadn’t thought of that. She might have been reading my mind.

“No one will check unless you mention it,” she said. “And if you do, I’ll say the valve was open and the level about six inches down…which is where it should have been. No one’s going to take your word against mine. You were acting like a zombie after your panic attack, and Peter will back me up on that.”

We stood in silence as the paper reduced to sooty ash in the sink, at which point she turned on the tap and washed it away. By then, of course, I was extremely curious about why she’d done it, as thirty seconds’ reflection told me she wouldn’t have mentioned the valve in the first place if it hadn’t surprised her to find it off. The whole thing was very strange.

“I suppose you’re afraid of me now,” she said abruptly.

“You’re not much different from MacKenzie, that’s for sure. He was very fond of saying no one would believe me…but his threats were a lot more persuasive than yours, Jess.”

She looked uncomfortable. “I’m not threatening you.”

“You said you’d accuse me of being a zombie…and ask Peter to back you up. What’s that if it’s not a threat?” I hefted the walking-stick and axe again, and headed for the corridor. “Don’t forget to lock the mortise when you leave.”

I
SAT AT MY DESK
in the back room, listening for her Land Rover, but it never left the drive. I used the time to email my parents.

Text received. Phone on the landline when you’re ready. Don’t want to use mine without 141, and it’s a bore climbing into the attic to activate the mobile! Too many rats and bats!!!! Lol, C.

I was acutely attuned to noises I didn’t recognize. Had been for days. I heard Jess’s dogs on the gravel once or twice as they circled the house. Heard the sound of a car as it drove down the valley. Half an hour later I listened to Jess’s steps across the hall. They were more tentative than usual. “It’s not what you think,” she said from the doorway, as if thirty minutes’ deliberation had merely trapped her in a continuous loop of denial.

I turned my chair to look at her. “Then what is it?”

She came into the room and looked past my shoulder to see what I’d typed on my monitor screen.

How did the Derbyshires end up owning more land than the Wrights?

How could they afford it?

I watched Jess’s face as she read the questions. “You said Lily was envious,” I reminded her. “Did she resent the way your family acquired the farm?”