The Strangling on the Stage (19 page)

‘Really?'

‘Yes, it was just getting so dispiriting. They kept bringing in new schedules. I wasn't being allowed to spend the kind of time with patients that I wanted to. I was leaving every shift feeling totally frustrated by the fact that I hadn't achieved as much as I wanted to.

‘Anyway, the one good thing that came out of my second divorce was that I got a bit of money from the bastard. Not much, but enough for me to take some time out from being employed, so I gave in my notice at the hospital.'

‘Not early retirement?'

‘God, no.' Belle was about the same age as Jude. ‘I like to think I've got a few more useful years in me. But I took the opportunity to do a couple of courses. Like the healing one when we first met, though I've decided I haven't really got what it takes to be a healer.'

‘I thought you were very good.'

‘I was OK, but I hadn't got the magic. Not like you have.'

Jude did not demur at the compliment. She knew, when it came to healing, she was blessed with a gift, and she was no believer in false modesty.

‘So,' Belle went on, ‘I thought I should concentrate on a more practical kind of therapy. I did a course in reflexology, which I found very interesting, but I still didn't think it was quite for me. And then I did a course in kinesiology.'

Whereas when Storm Lavelle talked about going on courses, Jude suspected a level of faddishness in her, she never doubted the complete seriousness of Belle.

‘Funny you should mention that. I'm getting very interested in kinesiology,' she said. ‘Been reading up about it. I think it really works.'

‘Me too.' The enthusiasm grew in Belle's voice. ‘No, the further I got into the subject, the more I realized it fitted me like a glove.'

‘So have you put a shingle on your door and set up on your own as a kinesiologist?'

‘No, I'm not quite ready for that yet. And when my money from the bastard ran out, I needed a regular income, so I got another nursing job.'

‘Not back in the NHS?'

‘By no means. Private sector. In a convalescent home. I've been there for five months. And I've been intending to ring you all that time, but I've got waylaid by, you know, starting the job, and getting my new house – well, old house but new to me – vaguely habitable. But the reason I wanted to ring you is that we're practically neighbours.'

‘What?'

‘The home where I'm working is in Clincham …'

‘Wow!'

‘… and I'm living in a little village called Weldisham.'

‘Oh, goodness me. Just up on the edge of the Downs. It's lovely up there.' Jude remembered when she and Carole had investigated some human bones discovered in a barn near Weldisham. ‘Well, since you're so close, we absolutely must meet up.'

‘I agree. That's why I was ringing.'

‘But tell me first about this convalescent home where you're working. Are you enjoying it?'

‘Best job I've ever had. I've been so caught up in it that's another reason why I haven't phoned you. It's a big house just on the outskirts of Clincham, lovely setting, great views looking up towards Goodwood and the Downs. Called Casements. And the patients are, well, what you'd expect – people recovering from operations, a bit of respite care, some who're just run down or have had breakdowns, a few terminal cases. But the doctor who runs it is the kind I've been looking for all my life.'

‘You don't mean in the sense of a potential Husband Number Three?'

‘Certainly not. Rob is very happily married, I'm glad to say. He's a qualified doctor, but he's really found his métier as director of Casements. What's more, he's the perfect boss for me because he does genuinely believe in mixing traditional and alternative therapies.'

‘So you get to do a bit of kinesiology?'

‘Yes. Which is great. Rob also has people who come in to do reiki and acupuncture. I mean, none of it's forced on the patients. And of course I do the normal everyday nursing stuff as well. But if any of the patients want to have a go with me on the kinesiology, well, they can. And I must say I've had some really encouraging results. Really think I've helped some of them. I no longer leave work feeling dissatisfied.'

‘That sounds brilliant. Well, look, come on, diaries at the ready. Let's sort out a time when we can meet up. Presumably if you're in Weldisham three miles up a country lane, you must have a car. There's a very nice pub here in Fethering called the Crown and Anchor.'

‘There's also a nice one in Weldisham called the Hare and Hounds.'

‘Yes, I know it.' Jude and Carole had spent quite a bit of time there when they'd been investigating the death on the Downs.

‘Oh, before I forget, Jude … there was another reason why I phoned you today.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. Your name came up yesterday when I was talking to one of the patients here.'

‘Oh? Who was it?'

‘Her name's Hester Winstone.'

‘S
taying with a friend.' Yes, thought Jude, that's exactly how a man like Mike Winstone would explain away his wife's absence. In his shallow world of cricketing heartiness there was no room for uncomfortable realities like mental illness. Belle told her that Hester had been in Casements almost from the moment she had been released by the police after questioning about Ritchie Good's death. She was under the care of a psychiatrist, but she had also accepted Belle's offer of some kinesiology treatment. It was during one of their sessions that Jude's name had come up. ‘She was very kind to me,' Hester Winstone had said.

According to Belle, Hester wasn't isolated at Casements. Though she had breakfast in her room, she ate other meals communally with the other patients. She was on a heavy dose of antidepressants, and she was given sleeping pills at night. Belle said she was not a difficult patient. She seemed very withdrawn and, yes, in a state of shock.

Jude had then given a brief outline of the events in Smalting that had led to Ritchie Good's death, and Belle said, hearing that, she wasn't surprised at the state Hester was in. ‘So do you think she actually witnessed him dying?'

‘I think so. But I can't be sure. I'd really love to talk to Hester about that.'

‘Well, why don't you?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Come and visit her at Casements.'

‘Could I do that?'

‘Why not?'

‘I thought perhaps she wasn't allowed visitors.'

‘Not so far as I know. Her husband comes to visit her twice a week. Regular as clockwork. Two o'clock on Wednesdays and Saturdays.'

‘Have you met him, Belle?'

‘No, I haven't.'

‘So you don't think there'd be any problem if I were to visit her?'

‘I wouldn't think so. I'll check with Rob if you like. I think he'd welcome your coming. I think he'd also welcome it if you tried a bit of healing on her.'

‘That's a thought. Would you mind asking him, though?'

‘No problem. I'll be going in after lunch. My shift starts at two. I'll ask Rob and phone you back.'

‘Well, if it's OK, maybe I could come and see Hester this afternoon?'

‘I can see no reason why not,' said Belle.

As it turned out she must have phoned her boss straight after their call ended, because she rang back within five minutes, offering to pick Jude up in Fethering at one-thirty and drive her to Casements.

It was good to see Belle again. Jude always found that, whatever time had elapsed since their last meeting, they could pick up together as if they'd only met the day before. But they didn't talk a lot on the journey to Clincham. Jude was preoccupied with her forthcoming encounter with Hester Winstone and, as she did before a healing session, was focusing her energies. Belle knew her well enough to respect the silence between them.

Casements was a large house set back from the road some miles outside Clincham in the Midhurst direction. Its name clearly derived from its large number of windows, all criss-crossed with lead latticework. It looked more like a country house than a hospital.

As she brought her Toyota Yaris to a halt in the staff car park, Belle said, ‘I'd like you to meet Rob. I told him you were a healer.'

‘Fine.'

The door off the main hall to the Director's Office was open, which seemed to typify the air of relaxed warmth around Casements. Rob himself reinforced that impression. A tall man in his forties, he dressed more casually than the average GP, but there was a shrewdness in his blue eyes which suggested he was aware of everything that was going on around him.

‘My friend Jude,' said Belle as they stood in the doorway.

‘Great to meet you.' Rob's handshake was firm and welcoming. ‘I hear you're a healer.'

‘Yes.'

‘I can't claim to understand how it works, but I have a great respect for your profession.' Jude wondered how Carole would have reacted to hearing what she did described as a ‘profession', as Rob went on, ‘And I've seen some remarkable results from the work of healers.'

Jude grinned. ‘I can't claim that I know how it works either. But I know
when
it works.'

‘Sounds good enough to me. As Belle's probably said, we use a lot of alternative therapies here – though actually I prefer to call them
complementary
therapies. Medical knowledge is improving all the time, but there are still too many things we are clueless about when it comes to curing them. So I'm in favour of trying anything – short of downright charlatanism – that might work.'

‘Sounds a good approach to me,' said Jude.

‘Were you thinking of trying any healing with Hester this afternoon?'

‘Only with your permission. She's your patient, not mine. I don't want to do anything that might clash with the treatment she's already receiving.'

‘I don't see how healing could do that,' said Rob. ‘Mixing therapies is not like mixing medications. No, if you think you can help her – and Hester herself doesn't object – you have my permission to use your healing powers on her.'

‘I'll see how she feels about it … if the moment comes up. But thank you.'

‘And I wish you good luck.'

‘Oh?'

‘The psychiatrist who's working with Hester is finding it hard work. Not that she doesn't cooperate. She's very polite, very accommodating, but there's a whole lot of stuff she's holding in, things she won't talk about.'

‘But she's not pretending there's nothing wrong with her?'

‘No, she recognizes there's something wrong. She seems almost relieved to be here. But in terms of getting her better … Well, until she opens up a bit about what's really traumatized her, it's uphill work.'

‘I'll see if I can get her talking, though I'm really just here as a friend, not in any professional capacity.'

‘I understand that. Anyway, let me know how you get on with her. Drop in here when you're leaving.'

‘Of course.'

‘There have been quite a few cases in the past where I've thought healing might have some effect.' Rob focused his blue eyes on her. ‘I wonder, Jude, would you mind my contacting you if something similar were to come up in the future?'

‘I'd certainly be up for having a go. Can't guarantee results, I'm afraid. You never can with healing.'

‘You never can with a lot of traditional medicine,' said Rob, smiling.

Hester Winstone's room was at the back of Casements, with latticework windows looking up towards the gentle undulations of the South Downs. It was comfortably furnished, more like an upmarket hotel room than anything to do with a hospital.

And the manner of Hester's greeting to Jude was more suited to a hotel guest than a patient. She was smartly dressed in a tartan skirt and pink cashmere jumper. Her red hair was neatly gathered at the back in a black slide and she was wearing more make-up than she had when attending SADOS rehearsals.

Belle had gone ahead to check that Hester felt up to the visit, and the patient was prepared for Jude's appearance. Which meant that she must have agreed to their meeting. Her behaviour was that of a well-brought-up hostess, offering her visitor tea or coffee. ‘The staff are very good at catering for our every need.'

Jude opted for tea, thinking that having a drink might extend the length of her stay. There were a great many things she wanted to ask, but she recognized that she had to be gentle and circumspect in her approach. Beneath Hester's brittle politeness, Jude knew there was a lot of pain, and she did not want to be responsible for aggravating that pain. Given Mike Winstone's unwillingness to have anything potentially unpleasant in his life, having his wife hospitalized (even if it was covered up by the bland lie about ‘staying with a friend') must have meant there was something seriously wrong with her.

But in their first few exchanges the woman's mask of middle-class gentility did not crack at all. The only discordant sign was a slight detachment in her manner. Her eyes were not glazed, but they looked distant. She behaved like some skilfully constructed and very correct automaton. Jude presumed this was the effect of her medication.

Their polite surface conversation had almost run out before the welcome interruption of a neatly uniformed woman with tea and biscuits. Hester's expert hostess manner seemed to welcome the rituals of pouring and passing the cup.

Having taken a sip of tea and a bite of biscuit, Jude felt she could risk moving the conversation away from pleasantries. ‘All's going well with
The Devil's Disciple
,' she said. ‘If they knew I was seeing you today, I'm sure lots of the company would have sent good wishes.'

‘That's very nice of them.' Since no actual good wishes had been sent, this comment sounded slightly incongruous.