The Shadow of the Sycamores (20 page)

That was when Nessie had surprised them. She had called every day to see how Fay was and had given Henry strict instructions to let her know the minute the labour pains started – even if it was the middle of the night. As it turned out, she was actually with Fay when the first pain struck and she refused to leave even when Henry came home from work – even when the doctor was called and things were getting serious.

Andrew’s birth, Henry recalled thankfully, had been fairly straightforward and surprisingly quick, as if he couldn’t wait to make his entry into the world, and Nessie the nurse became Nessie the grandmother, who doted on the infant, still did, although he was a wee nickum nowadays, fingers into everything.

Samara’s birth had taken much longer, a full thirteen hours, but Fay took it all in her stride, making her husband go to work as usual after seven hours. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she had assured him, her darling face white, her eyes pain-filled. ‘Nessie will look after me.’

That was when he had revived his old vow not to put any woman through the agonies of numerous pregnancies. This one would be the last – definitely the last.

‘Are you sleeping?’

Fay’s voice startled him. ‘Just thinking,’ he said, trying to sound alert.

‘I’ve been thinking, too. It’s more than a month since we heard from Janet, do you know that? I hope nothing’s wrong.’

He turned stricken eyes to her. ‘I didn’t realise it was so long. I thought …’ he paused, wondering if he should tell her of the fears he’d had when they left The Sycamores and deciding that it would be all right. As the saying went, no news was good news. If anything bad had happened to Janet, they would have heard. ‘She used to tell me she was worried about the way her mother died. She half-suspected Innes of doing something to get Mrs Emslie out of the way.’

‘Why would he want to do that?’ Fay couldn’t understand.

‘As far as I gathered, he wanted Janet to marry him but she said she couldn’t as long as her mother was alive.’

‘But I thought you once told me he was married already.’

‘He was. Then he said he’d had a letter from a friend saying his wife had died.’

Fay’s eyebrows rose. ‘Did these deaths happen soon after each other?’

‘Not all that long.’

‘Well, that’s it, then.’ She looked at her husband triumphantly. ‘Janet must have been afraid that he’d got rid of them both.’ Her face fell again. ‘She still married him, though, so she couldn’t have been afraid of him … not at first.’

‘What are you getting at?’

‘It could have taken a while for her to come to that conclusion and, once a person starts to imagine things, it grows and grows in the mind until …’

‘Yes, but on the other hand, she could have realised she was being stupid.’

‘Do you think she was being stupid? I never really took to Innes Ledingham, you know. There was something about him …’

‘He wasn’t so bad. He thought a lot of himself and was a bit … what’s the word?’

‘Bumptious,’ his wife supplied.

‘Aye, but he wasn’t a villain. He wouldn’t have …’

‘You can’t be sure.’

Henry thought for a moment. ‘I’ll write and ask him if Janet’s ill or …’

‘Don’t write to
him
! If he thinks we know about him, he might do away with her … if he hasn’t done it already.’

‘Oh, Fay!’ He looked most distressed now. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘I’m just being realistic, dear. If we can suspect him of two murders, it follows that he could quite easily do a third. What you must do is write to Max. Just say we want to know how Janet is since she hasn’t written for a while and we didn’t want to bother Mr Ledingham. Don’t say anything else … please, Tchouki, don’t.’

He never objected to his wife’s use of his true Christian name. It was her way of showing him her affection.

When he passed along the letter to Max Dalgarno, the Superintendent commented, accusingly, ‘It’s postmarked Ardbirtle. From Henry … I mean Tchouki Rae, I suppose?’

Max, however, was fit for him. ‘It’ll be from my mother,’ he said brightly, knowing full well that it wasn’t her handwriting and wondering why Henry was writing to him. ‘I’ll read it later on.’

To make sure that no one could see him, he opened it in the potting shed behind the stable and was surprised to find that his friend had just written two lines. What they said, however, did not surprise him. He had been worrying about Janet himself for the past few weeks. According to her husband, she had taken to bed with a very bad form of influenza and he had later described her condition as ‘an illness Doctor Harris cannot identify’. That was when he had employed a temporary cook, as he called her, but she was still there.

Knowing that he couldn’t ask if he could see Janet – that would put her husband on his guard – Max tackled one of the maids that very afternoon. ‘Nora, I want to ask you something but I don’t want Ledingham to see me speaking to you. Come in here.’

He realised, from the way her face lit up when he closed the shed door, that she thought he wanted to ask her out – or to kiss her even – so he said hastily, ‘Have you seen Janet lately?’

Obviously disappointed by his question, the girl nodded. ‘Aye, I took up her breakfast this morning, Max. She looks real bad.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘It’s difficult to say but her face is clapped in, she’s got black rings round her eyes, her lips are near white and her hands are shaking. She’ll not be fit to work for ages yet … if she’s ever fit again,’ she ended, gloomily.

‘What d’you think o’ Mrs Rattray?’ Max persisted.

‘She’s nae near as good a cook as Janet.’

Max rubbed his chin reflectively. ‘No. In fact, she’s bloody awful.’

‘Ooh, Max,’ Nora giggled, looking at him coyly, ‘the things you say.’

He opened the door and, to keep her from being too disappointed, he gave her a quick squeeze as he let her out.

For the rest of the afternoon, he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter and what it conjured up. Henry had obviously been worried at not hearing from Janet and the more he, himself, was learning about her illness, the more he was worrying too. Something was damned queer about it.

It was not until Max realised that Ledingham usually had some business to attend to in Aberdeen on the cook’s day off that an answer occurred to him and he could have kicked himself for not noticing before. The Superintendent was taking up with Mrs Rattray! He must be doing something to Janet, giving her something to keep her out of the way.

Max felt his hackles rising at the thought of it but he couldn’t tell anybody. He had no proof – it was just supposition on his part. In any case, what could he say? That the man was making sure his wife couldn’t catch him out in his love affair – or was it more sinister than that? Was he trying to get rid of Janet for good? Bitter bile burned the young man’s throat now and, in his torment, he yanked out a whole row of turnip seedlings
before he came to his senses. What could he do? Even if he did get to see Janet, by hook or by crook, and told her what he suspected, she wouldn’t believe him.

An hour before stopping-time, he saw Nora coming hell-for-leather round the side of the stable and making straight for him, her urgency making him take a few steps forward to meet her. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked, in some concern.

‘Not with me,’ she assured him. ‘You’ll not believe this but I wanted to ask Mrs Rattray about something earlier on and, when I went to speak to her, she wasn’t in the kitchen. So I went along to her wee sitting room and … I heard a man’s voice saying lovey-dovey things. Well, I mean, I wondered who it could be … so I put my ear to the keyhole and … guess who it was?’

‘Ledingham!’ Max almost shouted it in his triumph.

She seemed disappointed that he had guessed correctly but carried on, ‘Aye and he says, “Oh, Glo … this is awful and I nearly called you by the wrong name at breakfast. I can’t think of you as Kate, you see. You’ll always be my Glo …” I think she must have put her hand over his mouth to stop him saying her real name and then he kissed her. I heard it as plain as day so I wouldn’t wait any longer. I would see her right there and then and it’s their ain fault if I catch them doing what they shouldna be doing – and him wi’ a wife that’s at death’s door in her bed up the stair. So I gives a wee tap and in I goes.’

‘Good for you!’

‘They’d sprung awa’ from each other, of course, but they was flustered and red in the face and he stamped out. Did you ken about them, Max?’

‘I suspected he was up to something but I’d no proof.’

After a few moments’ silence, Nora whispered, ‘D’you think he’s giving Janet something so she’ll nae ken what’s going on?’

‘Either that or he’s trying to do away wi’ her for good.’

Nora’s eyes widened, ‘To murder her, you mean?’

‘That’s exactly what I mean.’

‘Oh, God, Max, we’ll need to do something – but what?’

‘I havena managed to think what to do but it’ll come to me and it would be good to have somebody to back me up if things go wrong.’

‘You can depend on me, Max. I’ll back you up. I’ll tell folk exactly what he’s getting up to.’

At supper, two of his workmates commented on how quiet Max was – one even asked him if he was feeling ill because he looked so flushed. But he shrugged his shoulders and, as soon as the meal was over, he made for his room. Stretched out on his bed, he racked his brain for inspiration, for a way to see Janet without fear of being seen, but nothing would come to him. The night passed slowly, one thread of hope after another being discarded as being too open to discovery, and he rose in the morning still in his work clothes. Shaving in the cold water usually banished any sleepiness but not this morning. He felt as though he had been drugged.

A comment by the grieve at breakfast time on how ill he looked made light dawn. Why shouldn’t he say he
was
ill? He would be sent back upstairs to bed … at the other end of the same corridor as the Ledinghams’ bedroom. Nora would likely be told to take some dinner to him and he could ask her to keep watch till he went in to speak to Janet. He could plan no further than that. It was up to the poor woman herself after that – if she believed him or not.

Pushing his chair back, Max pretended to stagger and the Superintendent said, sharply, ‘You may as well admit that you are ill, Maxwell. There is no point in trying to work in that state so go back to bed till you shake it off – whatever it is.’

‘If it’s what Janet’s got,’ Max mumbled, unable to resist the chance, ‘I’ll not be able to shake it off.’ He walked unsteadily to the door and went out but, once on the stairs, his step was more purposeful, his eyes had a glint of steel in them.

Again, he lay down fully clothed but, this time, he had a plan in mind. It should be easy enough to get from his side of the house to the Ledinghams’ room. He knew that what had originally been two different wings of the building had been separated by locked doors when The Sycamores became a
‘refuge for the infirm’ but would they still be kept locked after all this time? Ledingham had once told them that the severe increase in fees some years earlier had effectively banished the truly insane so there was no danger nowadays of an inmate going berserk and attacking somebody.

After mulling over the chances of finding the communicating door still locked, Max felt reasonably satisfied that it was most unlikely. So … what would he do when he came face to face with Janet? Should he just jump in with both feet and tell her the truth right off or should he work round to it? Working round to it would take time, though, and that was something he didn’t have. In any case, was she in a fit enough state to understand what he was saying?

Despite his feverish excitement at the thought of outwitting a devilish fiend, Max’s lack of sleep the previous night got the better of him and he sat up, startled, when someone knocked on his door. ‘Come in,’ he yawned, thinking that it was Nora.

‘I have brought something for you to eat.’ It was the Superintendent himself.

Positive that the man had guessed he was up to something, Max’s heart plummeted. His dazed expression, however, had he but known it, evidence of his having been asleep, was enough to clear the faint doubt from his employer’s mind.

‘I am sorry to disturb you,’ he said solicitously, ‘but I thought you would be glad of a little soup.’

‘Thank you, Mr Ledingham,’ Max muttered, wishing that he had at least gone under the blankets but the Superintendent didn’t seem to think it odd that he was still fully clothed.

Left alone again, Max supped the soup and ate the crusty bread the new cook had baked. It wasn’t really so bad and he used the last piece to wipe up the drops of moisture from the bowl, while he engaged in concentrated thought. He had planned on having Nora to keep watch, and maybe to help him to get Janet downstairs if she wasn’t able to walk. Without Nora, he would be facing more than a challenge – it would be an outright impossibility.

He lay back to consider it, hearing, without being aware of
it, the usual kitchen sounds, the banging of heavy doors as the other employees returned to their tasks. It was only when absolute silence reigned that he became conscious that it was so and wondered, warily, if he dared to make a move.

He slid off the bed and opened his door, listening intently for any sound. Hearing nothing, he crept back to the bed, picked up his boots and tied them round his neck. He was about to set off on his mission when another knock froze him to the spot in panic but his fears disappeared when Nora poked her head in.

‘It’s just me, Max. That’s himself gone off to Aberdeen to attend to some business and he says he’ll not be back till some time tomorrow. It’s kinda funny though, for Mrs Rattray’s off and all. It looks to me like they’ll be meeting some place for I’m sure they’re having a romance or whatever you like to call it.’ She giggled delightedly. ‘You wouldna think folks their age would still be at it, would you?’ Her manner sobered. ‘What was you wanting me to do?’

Barely able to believe that fortune was smiling on him, Max gave her a brief outline of his plan, then led the way along the top corridor. When he placed his hand round the knob of the connecting door to the other wing, he looked at her with raised eyebrows but, before the disappointment of finding it locked had fully registered, Nora drew a large key from her apron pocket. ‘I ken’t it was locked so I took this aff the board in the kitchen.’