True Love Ways (9 page)

Drew looked at his watch. “If we're going to make
dinner with the Mortimers, and talk to Bert first, we'd best be going.”

“Just give me a moment to write this down,” said
Meredith, taking her notebook out of her handbag. “And I need to drop in on
Aunty Peg. You can come if you want. We can tell her what we know so far.”

Chapter Six

When they returned to Midchester they found Betty
working alone in the strawberry field. Drew and Meredith picked up a punnet
each from the table at the entrance, paid their money, and went into the field.

“I'm beginning to feel like that Agatha Christie
book,” said Betty, pouting. “The one where all those people on the island die
off one by one.”

“When did you last see Bert?” asked Meredith.

“This morning. We had a row...” Betty paused. “Miss
Bradbourne...”

“Call me Meredith.”

“Meredith, can I talk to you alone for a bit? Sorry,
Drew, but there's some things I can't discuss with you.”

Meredith felt a brief swell of pride. It was nice to
know she had her uses.

“I'll go and pick some strawberries for Aunty Peg,”
said Drew, wandering off to another lane somewhere in the distance.

Meredith knelt down next to Betty, and started
picking a few strawberries herself, so that she wouldn't get Betty into
trouble. “What is it Betty?”

“I don't know what to do for the best,” said Betty,
her eyes filling with tears. “You see, I love Jimmy, but I think I'd be better
with Bert. He's got an O-level. In woodwork. And he's got plans. Wants to start
up his own furniture shop.”

“That's a good plan.”

“So he'll make a better dad for my baby, you see.”
Betty put her hand to her tummy.

“Oh, yes, I see,” Meredith said gently. “But whose
baby is it, Betty?”

“It's Jimmy's.”

“Do either of them know?”

Betty shook her head. “No, I haven't said anything
yet. I'm only a couple of months gone. So I could let Bert think it's his,
couldn't I?”

“Do you think that would be a fair thing to do,
Betty? Bert's a sensitive lad. If he ever found out the truth...”

“But I can't marry Jimmy,” said Betty, her voice
rising hysterically. “He's not stable. Anyway, he might be hanged for murder. I
can't tell my baby that his daddy is a killer.”

“Jimmy won't be hanged if we've got anything to do
with it. I think … I think what's happened has taught Jimmy a lesson. I've got
a feeling he won't want to touch a knife ever again. He's still got a lot to
learn, but perhaps finding out he's going to be a father will be the making of
him. You have to give him that chance, Betty. If he lets you down, then be
honest with Bert. I think you'll find Bert will want to help you, no matter who
the baby belongs to. But don't start a life together based on a lie... Oh...”

“What is it, Meredith?”

“I've just thought of something. I wonder... Never
mind. It's up to you what you do, Betty. You don't  have to choose to have any
father for your baby. All that will matter is that the baby is loved and cared
for.”

“I don't want my baby born illegitimate,” said
Betty, with some passion. “It's got to have a better life than I've had. Pushed
from one home to another. Treated like dirt because ...”

“But it won't be like that, because your baby will
have a mother who loves it. A child can survive anything as long as it's loved.
And I know you're going to give that child your very best.”

“You've got more faith in me than I've got in
myself,” said Betty, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Well someone's got to believe in you for a change,
Betty.”

To Meredith's surprise, Betty threw her arms around
her. “Thank you. I know the right thing to do now.”

Meredith got up, feeling her knees creaking
slightly, and went back to Drew.  He'd filled the punnet with strawberries, and
was eating one of them.

“Haven't you had enough strawberries today?” she
asked.

Drew stood up, and offered her one. “There's no such
thing as too many strawberries.”

After they'd paid for their crops, they walked back
to Aunty Peg's. The sun shone overhead, and Meredith realised that there was no
better place on earth to be than Midchester in the summer. Or anytime for that
matter. The back of her hand kept brushing Drew's fingers, and once or twice
she was tempted to hold his hand, but shyness prevented her.

“Do you know, the sound travels quite well across
that field?” said Drew.

“Oh,” she said, her heart dropping. “What did I say
wrong now?”

In response, he swept his hand around her waist, and
pulled her towards him. His lips found hers, as her punnet of strawberries,
looking like tiny red hearts, tumbled to the ground.

***

“Have you been running, darling?” Peg asked
Meredith, when they sat in the drawing room ten minutes later. “You look a
little flushed.”

“I'm … oh it's a warm day,” said Meredith, trying
hard not to look at Drew.

“Tell me what you've found out.”

Meredith and Drew told Peg what they'd learned that
day, and how Meredith had linked it all together.

“So you think Edith is the colonel's relative?” Peg
thought about it for a while.

“I'm sure that if she was, you'd have found out when
you investigated fourteen years ago,” said Drew. Meredith wasn't sure, but she
thought she sensed a question in his voice. Why hadn't Aunty Peg tried harder
to find out about Trefusis?

“I'm afraid I failed over Colonel Trefusis,” said
Peg. Her old eyes became misty. “It was a bad year for me, and … well … the
death of a man I'd only known a few weeks became less important to me.”

“Because it was then that Meredith went away,” Drew
suggested, kindly.

“Yes. I missed her so much when she'd gone, I didn't
do much of anything.” Peg wiped away a tear, and Meredith felt her own eyes
stinging. “It's the only time I've ever failed to track down a murderer, but
now I realise that was meant to be. Because my girl had to come back and help
me.” She smiled. “Now, Reverend Drew, tell me all about yourself.”

“Am I being auditioned?” Drew's face broke into a
smile.

“You certainly are, young man.”

“I've already told Meredith I was a naughty boy in
my youth.”

“Oh I think all men should be. Actually all young
people should be. We expect far too much of our young. In fact we expect them
to behave better than we ever did. Is it any wonder they rebel? Who are your
parents?”

“I'm afraid I can't speak for my father,” said Drew.
“I never met him. My mother was an actress... Or at least that's what she told
her elder sister, Gloria. I'm afraid it may not have been true. She died when I
was three years old, and I went to live with my Aunty Gloria, who is both
terrifying and wonderful in equal measure.”

“As all aunts should be.”

“You're not terrible,” said Meredith.

“Oh that's because I didn't really bring you up,
dear. Aunty Sheila did. Had I had the day to day care of you, I promise I'd
have been every bit as strict as she was. As it is, I could afford to spoil you
when you came to me for holidays because I didn't have to deal with the
consequences.” Peg winked. “Are you going to carry on travelling around
troubleshooting or will you settle in a parish with a pretty young wife, Drew?”

“Aunty Peg!” Meredith protested. “That's none of our
business.”

“I fully intend to treat myself to a pretty young
wife one day soon,” said Drew. “As for a parish, unless I can choose
Midchester, I'm not sure I'd want to be anywhere else.”

“Well, there's always hope for that,” said Peg.

“Have I passed your test … Aunty Peg?”

Meredith looked from her aunt to Drew, and felt she'd
come into the conversation halfway through.

“Oh yes, you'll do very nicely,” said Peg. “Now,
Meredith, fetch some scones and strawberry jam from the kitchen. We'll have
afternoon tea. Reverend Drew is staying, of course.” It was a command rather
than an invitation, and one which Drew accepted graciously.

“I think that if I eat anymore strawberries today,
I'll pop,” said Meredith, looking in the mirror over the fireplace.

Drew had left half an hour earlier, to give him time
to change for dinner. He'd offered to walk back for Meredith, but she assured
him she could manage to find the vicarage on her own. Since their kiss, she
hadn't known what to say to him. It had been easy in the presence of Aunty Peg,
who was able to keep a conversation going all on her own. But when she showed
him to the door and they were alone, she became tongue tied again. Her
awkwardness increased when he kissed her lightly on the lips.

“It's the season, dear,” said Peg. “Strawberries
with everything. Never mind, Edith makes a nice strawberry flan. In fact we had
that the night I went to dinner there.”

“When you broke your ankle?” Meredith tweaked an
unruly curl. Her hair always refused to look as sleek as she would like it to. 
She wore a dress of pale green chiffon, with a tight bodice and full skirt.
Around her neck, because she felt self-conscious about the low neckline, was
the same scarf she had worn that afternoon.

“That's right, dear.”

“How did it happen again?”

“I was coming down the stairs, and it was a bit
dark, and there was a loose piece of carpet. Someone was behind me. I think
they nearly fell too.”

“Who?” Meredith spun around. That was the first time
Peg had mentioned someone else being on the stairs.

“I can't remember. I was a bit shaken, and … well my
memory isn't what it used to be. By the time I was turned the right way up
again, everyone was standing around me at the bottom of the staircase.”

“Aunty Peg, what did you talk about at dinner that
night?” Meredith stopped trying to make herself look presentable and sat down
opposite her aunt.

“Well, all sorts really. Of course the main topic of
conversation was the loss of five hundred pounds from the church roof fund.”

“Is that why you went? To see if you could find out
who'd stolen it?”

“Yes.” Peg smiled mischievously. “It's not exactly a
murder, but they don't come along every year. Thank goodness. The ten shilling
note from the collection box wasn’t too serious. Sometimes there are people
who’ll take money out on the pretext of putting some in. Even in church, sadly.
But five hundred pounds from the church roof fund. That was a different kettle
of fish.”

“Did you have any suspicions?”

“Nothing definite. But well … the Reverend Mortimer
was paying for an expensive wedding.”

“You think the Reverend stole it.”

“It did cross my mind. Middle aged men sometimes go
funny when they marry much younger wives, you know. They want to impress her so
she doesn't go off with anyone else.”

“I don't think Clarice is much younger than him, is
she? About ten years?”

“It's enough, and she looks younger, doesn't she?
She's very glamorous.”

“Is she a resident of Midchester? I don't think I
remember her from when I used to stay.”