Peril in the Parish, page 22
‘I’ll look under the hall rack and bring it round if it’s there.’
‘It isn’t, miss,’ said Sally after they separated from Miss Gillybud outside the greengrocer’s. ‘I give the hall a good go round with the mop this morning and I’d’ve spotted it, same in the sitting room.’
‘If she hasn’t found it when we see her next, I’ll go and buy her another. Hopefully they’ll have one in the same colour.’
Coming towards them was a woman walking a boxer dog.
‘That’s Miss Milligan,’ said Sally.
The woman drew level with them and ordered the dog to sit. ‘Ah, Sally!’ she rumbled. ‘And this lady with you must be Miss Dawson, now of Orchard House. Nasty start for you. Don’t mean about Agnes. Told me the last time I saw her she was ready to go, but no, this other business. Hope they find the blighter who drove her to it. Won’t say more. Think about getting one of my pups. New litter on the way. Come, Horatio!’
Sally giggled. ‘Never can get a word in edgewise with her. I didn’t get to ask her about a puppy for Mum, but she’s a good sort.’
They reached the Spinning Wheel Tea Shop, where several curious looks came their way. They were greeted pleasantly by the owner, who listened with interest to Sally’s account of the spinning wheel found in the attic. Sally’s sister-in-law wasn’t due to come in until the afternoon shift, but they spent a pleasant half hour over Chelsea buns and tea, nodding and smiling and occasionally chatting with other customers.
Back at Orchard House, they put away their shopping, attended to a few tasks, had a latish lunch and settled in for a quiet afternoon. It began raining around four, in a softly pattering way and Sally replenished the fire, making the sitting room feel especially cosy. Their evening meal was fish with parsley sauce, new potatoes and peas. Sophie insisted on doing the washing up.
Sally had mentioned earlier that she would love to go back up in the attics and see what else of interest she could discover.
‘Go on,’ she said, ‘I’ve Marmalade for company and I’ll curl up by the fire and finish The New Girl at Maryville.’
‘Are you sure, miss? It’s your stuff up there.’
‘And you’re doing me a favour going through it.’
Sally nodded at Marmalade who was sitting, as forbidden, on the kitchen table. ‘I’ll shut the box room door, so he don’t get up to tricks like yesterday.’
Sophie went and sat down by the fire, but she didn’t pick up her book. She closed her eyes and thought of Aiden. Was she misreading his feelings for her? When he was nearby, she believed he experienced the same pull; that he wanted to take her into his arms as much as she longed to be there. But what experience did she have of being found desirable?
The knocker sounded. It was him. She was sure of it and on opening the door she stepped back to let him get quickly out of the rain. But the man who entered the hall wasn’t Aiden; it was Mr Crawley.
TWENTY-TWO
It took the flicker of a second for her to recognize him. He was wearing a black wig and a false black moustache, but the eyes … those pale, opaque eyes were unmistakable. He was closing the door behind him, leaning against it.
‘My sweet Sophie, don’t be shy and pretend you didn’t know I’d find you. I don’t blame you for running away. You were afraid of my wife. I understand. She made you think you were in the wrong, when what could be more right than our being together for always.’ He took off his hat, walked over to the hall rack, hung it up. She edged towards the door.
‘Don’t.’ It was a command. He removed the wig, peeled off the moustache and stuffed it in his raincoat pocket. ‘Don’t annoy me, Sophie.’
The meek pathetic man was no more; here was one enjoying his power to subjugate her, frighten her. He could smell her fear, would play with it, until the rage burning just below the surface erupted. He did blame her for disappearing. Saw it as a betrayal of his right to determine their future. She must appease him, play for time, hope and pray, she could think of a way out.
‘I was making sure the door was closed properly as the rain could blow it open.’
‘There’s no wind.’
She didn’t risk another word.
‘Is there anyone else here?’
‘No.’ She couldn’t risk him going up to the attic and finding Sally.
‘Where’s the cousin?’
‘Dead. She died the night I got here.’ What was the point in pretending otherwise? He’d have no fear of an elderly woman, easily dealt with, suddenly appearing.
‘Do you want to know how clever I was in discovering your whereabouts?’
‘You must have got it out of Mrs Blount; only she knew about my cousin.’
‘I admit I impressed myself. I’ve spent so long being overlooked, underrated, and ignored. It eats away at you until either you’re nothing but a shell, or one day you lash out at life, until it’s beaten down to your terms. It’s how I wormed my way into your landlady’s good graces that was genius.’
‘I want to hear.’
‘Have you noticed this new raincoat?’
‘It’s of excellent quality.’
‘And the shoes. The salesman at Clark’s said they were top tree. The hat’s second-hand but looks like it’s from Bond Street. Remind you of anyone?’
‘A well-dressed man about town?’
‘Mr Euwing.’
‘Oh.’ Her mind had stopped working.
‘I added the moustache and wig, in case you’d ever described him to her. It was also easy; I knocked on her door, said I was him and went on for a bit about how worried I was by your leaving so abruptly, especially as you had wages owing. She invited me in as pleasant as could be, told me you’d gone to stay with a cousin and that just that morning she’d received a letter from you. And if I waited just a minute, she’d write down the address for me.’
She had stopped listening to him halfway through. What would happen if Sally came down the stairs? Would he return to his craven self and get out fast? Or would her appearance on the scene increase his rage to the point that he turned it on her. Sophie had lied to him about being alone in the house. That would be enough for him to turn violent. He was on the edge of something far darker than talk. She closed her mind to how bad, unbearable, it would be if she didn’t find a way to outwit him.
‘I wore the wig and the moustache here because I thought you’d be amused as well as proud of my ingenuity. But it means nothing to you at all.’ His eyes narrowed to colourless slits. ‘I thought you would rush into my arms, that everything you’d felt for me would be released. But there you stand like a block of ice. You led me on, Sophie, playing the sweet innocent. You offered, you little bitch, and I’m taking what was promised.’
He made a grab for her, but she jerked free. If she could get to the kitchen and out the back door he might be afraid to follow her even though it was dark. She shoved at the coatrack and it swayed towards him. He stayed it with a lunge, wrenched at her arm and dragged her through the open sitting room door.
‘I pawned my mother’s gold locket, wedding and engagement rings for those clothes, my dear, dear mother who I thought you resembled. She warned me what to expect from women. She was right! She was always right. My wife has kept me back from all I could have achieved in life and you …’ He was panting heavily as she struggled against him. ‘You had better enjoy this.’
He was thrusting her on to the sofa, forcing her head back. She screamed. Screamed without hope. Miss Gillybud’s voice drifted in her head saying that murder could be committed down here and no one in the attics would be any the wiser. And Sally had said she would shut the box-room door behind her sealing off any pitiful chance of any sound getting through. He was lying on top of her, his hands over her mouth. Hands hurting. She was drowning … She had to be drowning because her life was beginning to flash before her. Her parents were dead, she was arriving at Uncle Henry’s. So stern, she was going to be frightened of him, but she hadn’t been … what she hadn’t known, never realized until he was gone, was that he loved her. She must tell Aiden. Must live to see Aiden again. She was coming up for air, had a moment of free breath. She heard a meow, followed by a sharp yelp, the weight lifted, a scrambling on the floor as of someone crawling to their feet. Her weakened gaze saw the figure straighten up, saw someone, something else move up behind him with a long object held aloft before bringing it cracking down on his head.
Sophie saw Sally bending over her. ‘It’s all right now, miss. You’re safe, he’s knocked out cold. Pity I didn’t kill him. Do you think you can sit up? Let me help you, that’s it. And take hold of this.’ It was a hockey stick. ‘Give him a hard whack if he so much as stirs. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, my mind’s clearing. You saved me, Sally.’
‘Marmalade got to him first; scratched him. I hope he gets blood poisoning.’
‘What brought you down? I thought you’d be up in the attics for hours.’
‘I’ll tell you about that later. I don’t like leaving you a minute, but I have to run to Miss Gillybud’s and use her telephone to fetch Constable Trout.’
‘But I don’t want anyone to know. It’s bad enough that it happened. I can’t face having to talk about it … answer questions.’
‘I understand, miss, but he can’t stay on the floor till he wakes up.’
‘No, no, of course not. I’ll do what you say, hit him with the hockey stick if he twitches a muscle.’
‘Do you know who he is, miss?’
‘Mr Crawley. The bookkeeper at the estate agency where I worked. He’d got ideas in his head … that there’s something between us. There was an incident. I told Mr Fielding about it, but I’d stopped being afraid he’d find me.’
‘I’ll be quick.’
Sophie should have been frightened on being left alone with Mr Crawley however lifeless he appeared, but all she felt was exhaustion. It seemed an age before Sally returned although it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. Behind her came Miss Gillybud, issuing soothing noises and soon after Aiden Fielding was in the room. He dragged Mr Crawley out into the hall and returned with the information that Constable Trout had arrived. ‘He’s going to stand guard in the dining room; the fellow’s coming round, but reinforcements are coming from Large Middlington and he’ll be out of here soon.’ He turned to Sally. ‘Please fill a hot water bottle and fetch a blanket or two. We have to keep her warm.’ He came towards Sophie, looking down at her with his hand clenched at his sides.
‘You aren’t going to be asked to talk about it tonight. I’ve informed Constable Trout who Crawley is and that you were concerned he might find a means to track you down. Sally has already told him she heard you scream, what she saw on entering the room and the action she took.’
Sophie stared at him.
‘Would you like Miss Gillybud to sit down beside you?’
‘That would be nice, but could it be you?’
‘That’s my girl,’ said Miss Gillybud, ‘I’ll go and ask Sally how I can make myself useful.’
Mr Fielding joined Sophie on the sofa. ‘I cannot,’ he said softly, ‘find words to express both the sorrow and anger I feel.’
‘Could you move closer,’ she whispered.
‘Of course. And may I take your hand?’
‘Yes, please.’ They sat in silence, until she found her voice again. ‘I just want him gone. I was terrified that he would …’
‘I understand.’
‘But it didn’t get that far, because of Sally. I felt his fingers digging into my sides, but he didn’t touch me where … it would have mattered. I don’t want to press charges against him, have to relive it, have to go to court. He said I’d led him on, that I was getting what I wanted. How can I prove I didn’t?’
‘You don’t have go through that, Sophie. I’ll tell Trout what you’ve said. He’ll need to talk to you for form’s sake, but tomorrow, not tonight. He’ll have Sally’s statement of what she saw and the action she took. He’s a kind man.’
‘Could you be there when he does come to see me?’
‘Of course. I’ll let him know that’s your wish.’
Sophie longed to lay her head on his shoulder, instead she clung to his hand.
‘How did Crawley find you?’
She explained about the letter to Mrs Blount, about the disguise and passing himself off as Mr Euwing. ‘He was wearing the wig and false moustache when I opened the door to him. He wanted to show me how clever he’d been.’
‘Did you notice what he did with them when he took them off?’
‘He put them in his coat pocket. It’s on the hall tree. I think he hung it up to make clear he wasn’t going to leave until he chose.’
‘I told him Agnes was dead because I didn’t want him going upstairs, not with Sally in the attic. He might have heard something, an object being moved, especially if he’d gone into the box room. I couldn’t risk it; he was in a mood to go after anyone he came upon. I tried to knock the hall tree over on him, but it didn’t work.’
‘Sophie, I wish I could have spared …’ He began, but Miss Gillybud was suddenly there.
‘Time for you to be tucked into bed, Summer Rose. Sally has put in the hot water bottles, so let me take you up.’
‘I am tired. But where is …?’
‘In the dining room, but only for a tiny while longer. He’ll be taken away and meanwhile Constable Trout has his truncheon.’
Even so Sophie avoided looking at the door holding Crawley at bay. Mr Fielding went with her and Miss Gillybud to the foot of the stairs. Sally was waiting in her bedroom. And within fifteen minutes had her tucked under the covers.
‘You’re the best friend anyone could have, Sally.’
‘No one will ever lay a finger on you again, miss, while I’m around. And I plan on that being until I’m a hundred and two.’
After that time seemed to float. Miss Gillybud who had left them returned with a cup of tea. Her voice bracing. ‘Strong and sweet, just the way you need it.’
Sophie sipped dutifully.
Then Mrs Chester bustled in, saying her husband was downstairs, but there was no need for him to come up unless Miss Dawson wished it; but he did want her to take a couple of tablets to help her sleep through the night. She stayed only a short time, talking comfortingly in a non-specific way about respecting her privacy.
Sophie looked doubtful when Sally handed her the tablets.
‘It’s all right, miss. They won’t make you feel funny, or turn you like Mrs Quigley that was always sending me back to the chemist for more until Dr Chester put a stop to it.’
‘That’s not it; I’m afraid of falling asleep until I know … he’s gone.’
Fortunately, Miss Gillybud reappeared at that moment to report a car had arrived from Large Middlington with two policemen and the menace had been removed. The relief was enormous and with it came a wave of gratitude that she had survived and would not have to endure the aftermath alone. Sally was by the bed holding her hand, and Aiden and Miss Gillybud would remain downstairs throughout the night. She did not need to be told this. She knew. Her last waking thought was of Anne Rudge who’d had no one with whom to share the fear that stalked her.
Sophie slept dreamlessly until almost eleven o’clock the next morning. On opening her eyes she saw Sally standing by the bed and Marmalade curled up on a chair. I should feel much worse – panicky, she thought – in the aftermath of something so awful, but I feel almost normal. I suppose it’s some form of shock. A numbing affect.
‘Ready for breakfast, miss?’
‘But you’re not going to bring it up’ – she was getting out of bed – ‘I’m coming down. But first I want to know why you brought that hockey stick down from the attic?’
‘Because of what you told me about Miss Younger and your mother being bought hockey sticks the summer before they went on to secondary school. When I spotted one stuck in a corner I just had to come and show you.’
‘Sally …’ Sophie looked at her soberly. ‘If you hadn’t been interested in what I talked about, you wouldn’t have remembered the hockey sticks.’
‘You listened to me too, miss. And I love our chats.’
‘Another thing; here you’ve been taking care of me when you’ve also been through a nightmarish experience.’
‘I wasn’t afraid of him. From what Constable Trout said he turned into a snivelling coward, babbling on about wanting his mum.’
‘Yes, he would.’ Sophie experienced the faintest of shivers. ‘But, Sally, I do hope you got some sleep.’
‘Wouldn’t‘ve dared not to with Miss Gillybud saying she’d stand over me till she heard me snore. Mr Fielding sent her home after a while and had her telephone his sister to come and join him here. They left a little after six, right after I got up.’
‘Oh!’ Sophie couldn’t imagine Miss Fielding had welcomed the late-night summons.
The rest of that day was relatively uneventful. Mr Fielding, as promised, accompanied Constable Trout for what turned out to be a brief, and not disquieting, interview. He asked Sophie how she was feeling today, said wasn’t this a wicked world, produced a notepad, flipped it open, and tapped it with a stubby pencil. Expressed his belief that he had all the facts, added that the person in question had been dispatched to the area where he lived, following a lengthy interrogation, followed by a warning that proceedings would be undertaking if he didn’t give Dovecote Hatch, and indeed the whole county a wide berth in future.
‘I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble with him, Miss Dawson.’
Sophie was comforted, but saw Aiden looking at her questioningly. As he was leaving in the constable’s wake, he said, ‘Sally has asked Dick Saunders to watch the house tonight. Don’t argue with her about this, Sophie.’
‘I won’t,’ she promised.
Later Sally brought up the matter. ‘I told Dick we’d had an intruder, probably a poor old tramp scrounging around for something to eat, ’cos we couldn’t find anything else missing, but having a big strong man outside would let us sleep easier, women being as all the world knows of sensitive dispositions. I’d read something like it in a book and it must’ve sounded good because he looked ready to run off and put on his suit of armour.’
