Ann Granger (9 page)
Authors: The Companion
‘I am truly sorry,’ Ross said. ‘Then can you tell me, as exactly as possible, what she wrote? The very words, if you can.’
With something of the dexterity of a magician, as he spoke he produced a pocketbook together with a pencil, and sat ready to take any reply down. I was astonished by this and so, I fancy, was Aunt Parry.
I opened my mouth to tell him how impressed I was by his efficiency but managed to close it again before any word escaped.
Aunt Parry gazed at him and the pocketbook in despair. ‘But I don’t remember exactly. She wrote only that she was sorry to have caused any inconvenience. Yes! Those were her words. I remember thinking that it was a remarkable understatement. We had been quite frantic with worry about her and now she wrote and said she had left with a man! “The gentleman to whom I am engaged to be married,” she wrote, the first we knew of it. Dr Tibbett said he did not believe there was any such engagement. Oh, my goodness me, are you writing it
all
down, Inspector?’
all
down, Inspector?’
Ross’s pencil had been fairly flying over the page but he paused in his scribbling to ask, ‘Dr Tibbett?’
‘A friend whom I am accustomed to consult,’ explained Aunt Parry. ‘Dr Tibbett is a man of the cloth. He spoke very harshly of Madeleine. He believes her to have behaved in a thoroughly depraved way. But now you tell us she may be dead? How did she die?’
Ross put away his pocketbook, which seemed to relieve Aunt Parry. But her respite was to be short-lived. He studied my employer briefly before he said, ‘I am afraid she died violently.’
Mrs Parry raised her hands and then let them fall limply into her lap. She said nothing.
‘Can you tell us, Inspector,’ I asked, ‘where Miss Hexham’s body was found? Was it far from here?’
He turned his steady scrutinising gaze on me. ‘It was in Agar Town,’ he said eventually. ‘In a house scheduled for demolition. They are building a new railway terminus as you probably know. All the houses have been coming down and the house where she was found is among the last section to be levelled.’
‘In Agar Town, oh no!’ gasped Aunt Parry. ‘Surely not.’
‘It is not a place you would have expected her to be found,’ Ross said. ‘I understand that.’
My employer and I were silent but for different reasons. Mrs Parry, I guessed, was horrified because she had not long since sold her property in that area for the purpose of that very demolition. I was frozen with horror. It had been Madeleine Hexham’s corpse that had crossed my path the previous day on my way to this house. Whatever had happened to her? Who could have done it? By what whim of malicious Fate had I been passing in the growler at that very instant? I was not superstitious but it couldn’t appear save as some terrible omen.
Ross obviously took our lengthy silence as a dismissal. He rose to his feet. ‘I am very sorry, ladies, to have been the cause of such distress. I’ll leave you now. You will need time to recover. I may
need to return and speak to you again, Mrs Parry. If you can remember anything at all … or if any member of your household has any idea as to the identity of the man with whom Miss Hexham ran away, please let me know at once.’
need to return and speak to you again, Mrs Parry. If you can remember anything at all … or if any member of your household has any idea as to the identity of the man with whom Miss Hexham ran away, please let me know at once.’
Aunt Parry whispered, ‘Of course.’
‘And an officer will call to question the servants, with your permission.’
The last words, were a formality. An officer would come and quiz the staff whether Aunt Parry gave her permission or not. She knew it and again I saw that flicker of annoyance in her face. She signalled faintly at me which I took to mean I should escort the inspector out.
When we reached the hallway downstairs, Ross paused by the hall table but didn’t pick up his hat. Instead he gestured towards the library. ‘Could I have a few words more, Miss Martin? I do understand you are deeply shocked.’
‘I did not know her,’ I said. ‘I came here only yesterday to replace her.’ But I led the way into the library and closed the door. I did not want any of the servants overhearing. Ross had warned they would be questioned and before that they would all have heard the news. But half-heard scraps of conversation were not the way for them to do it.
‘I am sorry to ask anything of you,’ Ross said. ‘But if I could see Miss Hexham’s belongings? Mrs Parry said she took nothing with her when she left. I presume they are still here, perhaps put away somewhere? Possibly that butler will know where.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘But I understand there was nothing but her clothing and Mrs Parry gave that to the servants. I believe there was something in the letter to the effect that the clothes were to be disposed of as Mrs Parry saw fit.’
He looked exasperated but then resigned. ‘Well, it was a vain hope, perhaps. After such a long time, it’s not surprising her belongings were cleared out. But she left nothing else? No letters? No diary?’
‘To my knowledge, no. But I was not here at the time, as I told you.’
‘Left nothing, wrote that her clothing should be disposed of, that does not seem strange to you, Miss Martin?’ he asked abruptly.
‘I suppose she did not intend to come back.’
‘Or someone wrote the letter in her hand to make it seem so,’ he said quietly, watching me to see how I took this suggestion.
I replied as calmly as I could, ‘The thought occurred to me when you were speaking to Mrs Parry. If she was murdered, and by violence I take it you mean murder, then her murderer would wish the search which had been started for her to be called off.’
‘Except that it was not called off,’ Ross said. ‘No one went back to Marylebone police station to report that news had been received of her. She remained a missing person as far as we were concerned.’
Well, that will be Frank, I thought crossly to myself but did not say it. He probably forgot or couldn’t be bothered.
Aloud, I said, ‘I wish I could help you. I didn’t know her but it’s a terrible thing to have happened.’
‘A great shock for Mrs Parry,’ Ross said. He fixed his dark intelligent eyes on me. ‘And although you say you did not know her, yet I can see it has upset you.’
‘I should explain,’ I said awkwardly. ‘Yesterday, on my way here in a cab, we were held up by the passage of a wagon carrying a dead body. It was in the area where they are pulling down the houses. That was, hers, wasn’t it?’
Ross muttered something. He looked angry. ‘Very likely!’ he said curtly. ‘I am sorry you saw it. I am sorry you were there and I am sorry you are here!’
‘What do you mean?’ I found his last words as strange as I had found his whole manner towards me. I know I spoke quite sharply.
He sighed. ‘You do not remember me,’ he said. ‘There is no reason why you should. But we have met before, quite twenty years ago.’
‘Oh no,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘That’s impossible. I have only just arrived in London from Derbyshire, as I explained to you. Josiah Parry,’ I pointed at the portrait above the hearth, ‘was my godfather. His widow, Mrs Parry, offered me the situation of companion after I wrote asking for her help, following the death of my father.’
‘So Dr Martin is dead,’ he said. ‘I am sorry to hear it. He was a good man and I owe him everything.’
‘You knew my father!’ I gasped.
‘And you. You are Lizzie Martin. You came with your father when he was called to a pit accident. A child died …’
I knew I was gaping at him. ‘Yes, I do remember that! I hid in the pony-trap that morning. I was only eight years old. But how could you possibly know of that?’
‘I was there but you won’t remember. I gave you my lucky piece of shale with the image of a fern in it. I dare say you threw it away.’
There was a sudden flash of memory, an image, revealed as if in a shaft of lightning on a night sky, of a dark-haired boy with coal-grimed face and clothing. ‘I remember you,’ I said slowly. ‘And as for your piece of lucky shale, I have it still. But, how …?’
I broke off in some embarrassment because what I’d been about to blurt out would sound so rude. But he was ahead of me.
‘How did I get from that to here? Well, at the time that child died the government had already passed a law which forbade the employment of anyone under the age of ten in the mines. The little boy who died – his name was Davy Price and I mind him well – he’d been under ten years of age. Your father made a great fuss about it with the authorities. As a result, the company dismissed all of us who were under that age. Joe Lee and I were
nine years of age at the time. We were neither of us sorry not to have to go back down the pit, but it was a great loss to our families not to have our wages. Your father knew it.’
nine years of age at the time. We were neither of us sorry not to have to go back down the pit, but it was a great loss to our families not to have our wages. Your father knew it.’
The inspector’s gaze drifted to the rows of packed book spines on a shelf opposite. ‘Most pitmen can do no more than make their mark. You probably realise that.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said a little awkwardly. ‘But it’s not their fault if there are no schools for them.’
His gaze shot back to engage mine with disconcerting directness. ‘But why should the children of pitmen need schooling? That’s what most people would say. It would only serve to fill them with ideas above their station.’
‘That would seem to me a most foolish argument,’ I retorted,
‘and one my father wouldn’t have supported for an instant! I know that he tried very hard to persuade several wealthy men of the town to band together and set up a charity school, as there are others in other towns. He was always sorry that he failed.’
I was surprised because I thought I heard Ross chuckle although there was no corresponding smile on his face. ‘I’m not surprised he had no luck. My own father knew no more than to make his mark despite my mother’s attempts to teach him. Oh yes, my mother knew her letters!’
I blushed because I realised I had shown my astonishment at this piece of information.
‘When she was a girl,’ he went on, ‘the vicar of her parish set up a Sunday school for poor children. My mother learned both to read and write and was made a monitor to teach the younger ones in turn. Later she taught me and, after my father’s death, earned a few pence teaching any other children in the pit village whose parents could spare the money or thought it worth the expense. Dr Martin’s original intention, when he knew us to be without employment, was to find us labouring work. But when he heard that both Joe and I could read well and write a fair hand he declared our education should not be wasted.’
Ross pulled a wry face. ‘I remember very well how he came to our house and sat listening to both of us read aloud to him and write at his dictation. He quizzed us both at great length and eventually dismissed us. We went outside and asked one another what on earth that had all been about! We later learned he had offered to pay for our proper schooling. Joe’s parents were hesitant at first but when my mother told them she meant to accept the offer for me, they agreed to it. So Joe and I, wearing new boots paid for by your father,’ a smile flickered across his face, ‘started our studies at the town’s grammar school where we soon found out how ignorant we were! We had to work hard if we were not to sit on the younger boys’ benches indefinitely and it was a powerful incentive. I admit we found those first weeks tougher going than any shift down the pit. But thanks to that, I was able to find work as a clerk for some years on leaving school. Then, when I reached eighteen, I came down to London to try my luck.’
He smiled broadly and suddenly looked quite different, relaxed and glad to escape his official duties if only for a moment. But for the second time I had a memory of having seen that grin before. ‘Like Dick Whittington,’ he said, ‘I was persuaded that the streets were paved with gold. But they were not, being mostly mud, and the living expensive. I joined the police. They were anxious to recruit men at the time. Thanks to your father, I not only had enough education but more than most recruits. I had worked hard of an evening over my books to improve it further. I reached the rank of sergeant quickly and, last year, that of inspector, one of the youngest in the Force.’ There was a modest pride in his voice to which he was in every way entitled.
The action of my father which had so benefited Ben Ross was typical of him. His charity in this and other ways had left me penniless but I did not criticise him for it.
‘My father would have been both proud and happy to know you have done so well,’ I said.
‘It has been my determination to do well,’ he said seriously, ‘since Dr Martin’s kindness opened the door for me.’
I had no doubt of his sincerity and of his determination. I wondered if my father had unwittingly unloosed the monster of ambition in the collier’s son he had taken under his wing. But I should not criticise Inspector Ross. I had seen the awful place where he had begun his working life as a child. Who would not want to escape it for ever?
Aloud I said, ‘I am glad to have met you again, though perhaps the circumstances could be pleasanter.’
He hissed in an annoyed way. ‘It’s the devil of a business, begging your pardon, Miss Martin, and I wish you had nothing to do with it!’
‘You will be coming back to speak to Mrs Parry again and let us know how you progress in your investigations?’ I asked. ‘She will want to be kept informed. I had better go now and comfort her.’
‘Yes, yes, of course you must. She was angry at Miss Hexham for the way she behaved but to learn she is dead, well, that’s another matter, and that she died as she did.’
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