True Love Ways (8 page)

“That's true, and rather regretful. You'd be
wonderful. But as you can't preach in church, I should let you come and speak
to some of the kids one day.”

“They'd hate me for preaching at them. They like you
because you don't.”

“I do, but in very subtle ways.”

“What ways?”

“I'll tell you over lunch. Come on, this looks like a
nice place.”

He took her into a little teashop, where they
ordered salmon and cucumber sandwiches, followed by strawberries and cream.

“I listen to the songs they like,” he explained, “then
see if I can connect the words to some teaching in the bible,” Drew explained
as they ate. “Like True Love Ways. As you say, it's all about the highs and
lows of a love affair, but it could also be about the highs and lows of life.
The best way to survive the low times is to have love in your heart.”

“I'd be quite interested in how you sell Rock Around
The Clock to them,” Meredith said mischievously.

“Oh, I just tell them that's good for dancing, and
dancing is good for the soul,” he replied, smiling. He really did have a
wonderful, warm smile. “And it does mention heaven. Briefly.”

“See You Later Alligator?”

“I've yet to find the deeper meaning in that one,
but when I do, you'll be the first to know. Bill Haley is okay, but Buddy
Holly's your man for meaningful lyrics.”

“I'm an Elvis Presley fan.”

“I've a feeling that has nothing to do with his
songs.”

Meredith giggled. “I'll have you know he's a great
singer.”

 “Yes, he is.”

“But he is rather beautiful too.”

“He's not my type, but I'll take your word for it. I
like Julie London myself.”

“Oh Cry Me A River is a wonderful song.”

“Is there anyone crying a river over you, Meredith?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“No ex-boyfriend who's going to swoop in and sweep
you away from me?” His tone was silky.

“I don't … I haven't dated much. I...” Meredith
became so nervous that she accidentally knocked over her cup of tea. “Sorry,
I'm so clumsy.”

As he helped her to wipe up the spills, their hands
touched. “Don't be afraid of me, Meredith,” he said, softly. “I'd never do
anything to hurt you.”

Their eyes met across the table and it was at that
moment Meredith knew she was hopelessly in love with Drew Cunningham and
probably had been since her suitcase unloaded its contents at his feet. Her
stomach knotted whenever she thought about him, and even the times when she’d
been irritated by him, she’d still looked forward to seeing him. But where
could it go? She couldn’t see herself as a vicar’s wife. She was far from being
pious, and had never arranged a flower in her life.

They ate their strawberries and cream in silence,
both lost in thought. A moment had passed between them, and neither of them
knew how to move on from it. Meredith looked around the cafe at the other
diners. Tables were piled high with delicious cakes, and the cafe had a homely
feel about it, despite being in the centre of a bustling town. In a film, she'd
have realised she was in love with Drew whilst standing looking over a stormy
sea with violins playing in the background. In reality, love was a warm, cosy
feeling that lent itself to a place like this cafe, where life went on as
normal, and the revelation of growing love was a quiet, and somewhat hesitant
whisper rather than a crashing symphony.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Drew, breaking
into her reverie.

“Violins.” The word was out before she could stop
herself.

“I can't hear any.”

“No, that's the point.”

“Would you rather they were playing?”

She shook her head. “I like things just as they
are,” she replied, smiling dreamily and eating another strawberry.

“So do I.”

They paid the bill and left the cafe, each still lost
in their own thoughts. Meredith had never been in love before. She wasn't sure
what one did. Should she tell him? No, that wasn't a good idea. What if he
didn't feel the same way? He was kind to her, and he seemed to like her, but
that didn't mean anything. Drew was kind to everyone. It was what she loved
most about him. His humanity, and ability to accept people for what they were,
instead of what society thought they should be.

They went to Shrewsbury Cathedral. Its cool interior
did wonders for Meredith's increasingly feverish head. They stood close
together, but barely touching, as if to do so might break the spell between
them. At least the holy place in which they walked prevented Meredith from just
reaching up and kissing him.

“Now what are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Suggestibility,” she said, to cover up her true
thoughts.

“Excuse me?”

“The way I was able to talk Jimmy around so that he
didn't end up threatening to harm Bert in front of the police officer. I’m only
a beginner, but you have a lot of power over people that you probably don't
realise, because you're a nice person.”

“I'm not quite sure where this is going. Only that I
don’t much like it.”

“Aunty Peg thinks you might have inadvertently
suggested to Bert that the woman he saw talking to Turner was Edith.”

“Hang on a minute, Meredith. I'm not an idiot. I
just...” Drew ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh.”

“What is it?”

“It was me who said her name, not Bert. But he
described her clearly enough, right down to her head scarf. No, no.” Drew shook
his head. “Your aunt is wrong. It was definitely Edith.” But he didn't look so
sure. “Perhaps we should go and talk to him again. Both of us. Then you can
hear for yourself. Come on, we'll go back to Midchester now. Clear this up once
and for all.”

“Can we go to the library first? I'd like to look up
some old newspapers from this area. Aunty Peg said it's not worth it yet and to
keep things local, but since we're here...”

They found the library and spent a while reading
through all the old newspapers. They sat at a table in the centre, with Meredith
on one side, and Drew at a forty-five degree angle to her at the end.

“Shropshire seems to be a deadly place to live,”
said Drew, browsing through his stack of old newspapers.

“I wouldn't say so,” said Meredith. “These papers
are spread over more than twenty years. I'm not an expert, but I suppose one
murder every couple of years is average for any county, given that the murders
don't all happen in one town.”

“That's still one murder every couple of years too
many,” Drew said with feeling.

“Yes, I agree.” She went back to reading through the
newspapers, but could not find anything that resembled the stories told by Mr.
Turner. She was on the last in the pile when something caught her eye. “Oh...
Drew, listen to this.”

Drew looked up from his own newspaper.

The headline at the top read
Husband Hanged For
Murder of Wife
. The newspaper was from nineteen-twenty-nine. “Arthur
Patterson was hanged in Hereford yesterday for the murder of his wife, Victoria
Patterson (formerly
Trefusis
)” Meredith read, “known as Queenie to her
family and friends,” Meredith read. “Patterson was convicted of the murder late
last year, after Queenie Patterson was found stabbed in her bed. Patterson
confessed to the murder immediately, and refused counsel. ‘Our married life was
based on a lie,’ said Patterson at the time. The Pattersons had a teenage
daughter, Maud, who has since moved abroad and changed her name.”

“You think the daughter is the real killer?” said
Drew.

“It fits with what Turner said. About a parent
hanged for the murder of another parent.”

“But he said a child, Meredith.”

“You said it yourself. To him a teenage girl would
be a child. Besides, it doesn't say how old she is. She could be anything from
thirteen to nineteen. But that's not the most important thing. Mrs Pendleton's
maiden name was Trefusis. I'd bet anything that she was related to Colonel
Trefusis. And Turner said something about someone murdering their uncle for
twenty thousand pounds, then stealing a car and driving away. Oh it's all
fitting together, Drew.”

“Wouldn't people in Midchester have known if Colonel
Trefusis had a relative who was murdered? It's not the sort of thing one can
hide.”

“Aunty Peg said that people hardly knew him in
Midchester. They hadn't had time to pry. He'd only lived there a few weeks when
he was murdered. Remember, Edith was just about to start work for him. He'd
barely set up his household. And even if people had connected him to Queenie
Pendleton, he only had to deny it for the gossip to stop. I remember him, you
know. Vaguely. He seemed at the time to be a lonely, unhappy man.”

“No, darling, I think you're just believing that now
because you believe he's related to Queenie Patterson.”

“Edith would be just the right age,” said Meredith
thoughtfully. She was trying to ignore the fact that Drew had called her darling,
but the warm tingle in her spine wasn’t going to let her forget.

“Don't you think Trefusis would have known if he was
employing his own relative?”

“Perhaps he did know. Perhaps he just wanted to help
her. Then Edith arrived earlier than she pretended, killed him, inherited his
money...”

“Then with twenty thousand pounds in the bank,
worked as a housekeeper for the vicar?”

“Yes, but she’s in love with Peter Mortimer. Anyone
can see that. She’d be his slave if he asked her to be.”

“Make up your mind, Meredith. She's either a matricidal
witch, intent on attaining a fortune, or she's a hopeless romantic, willing to
hang around the place where she's just murdered someone else so she can keep an
eye on the love of her life.”

“We're not dealing with a rational person here,
Drew. If she's a psychopathic killer...”

“Why psychopathic? I thought she murdered Trefusis
for the money.” Drew frowned.

“But that’s not why she killed her mother, if she
did. Who knows why she did that?”

“Unless her mother had a fortune to leave her. But,”
Drew ran his hands through his hair. “Didn't Edith's mother die just before
Edith came to work for Trefusis?”

“She could be lying. So that no one knows her mother
died many years earlier than that.”