HF - 05 - Sunset (51 page)

'Oh, yes'm, Miss Meg. But
...
we only got six horses.'

'We will have to double up,' she said. 'I can ride with you, Washington.'

'With me? You?' Washington was plainly delighted. 'Oh, yes, man, Miss Meg. I going see to that right away.'

Meg pointed the gun. 'We'll go back to the path, Billy.'

'You
are
joking, I suppose, Meg. Kingston? What, would you make more of a spectacle of yourself than you are already?'

'I have nothing to lose, have I, Billy ? I have only my freedom to gain.'

'Your freedom? Everyone in Kingston knows you are mad.'

"Then I will have to prove that I am not mad. Here is Massie with the horses.'

'Anyway,' he said. 'It simply isn't on, you know. A wife cannot arrest her own husband. It is unheard of. Why, a wife cannot even testify against her husband. I suppose you hadn't thought of that.'

'I think,' Meg said, 'That a wife cannot be
forced
to testify against her husband, Billy. No one is going to force me to do anything. Not ever again. Mount up.'

It was nearly dusk before they reached Kingston, as Meg insisted upon going right round Hilltop, which involved nearly double the journey. Fortunately, Billy had set off prepared for an all-day search, and the men carried flasks and bread and bacon, which enabled them to stop for a brief luncheon.

'This really is an act of total folly, Meg,' Billy said, seating himself next to her. 'Listen to me. There is no court in all Jamaica will convict me for shooting that man. Not on your word.'

'There will be five other words,' she said, staring at the blanket-covered mound which was Cleave. The sun was high, and it was impossible to keep away the insects.

'Black men,' he said contemptuously. 'Everyone knows they hate the whites.'

'Your own employees? Are you admitting you are that hard a master ?'

He chewed thoughtfully. He was clearly wondering who she was, having never known her in such a mood before. But then, it was a long time since she had known herself in such a mood, either.

'Meg,' he said at last. 'Listen to me.
All
right. I have been beastly to you these past few years. It was Oriole's idea, believe me. She is the most grasping, the most vicious woman I have ever met. Meg, I'll send her away. I promise you. I'll send her away and we'll go back to how we were before
...
well, before you went away. Roberts will agree that you have recovered. He knows we've been practising a fraud all this time. God knows he's been paid enough to take part in it. Meg, these chaps will do as you tell them. Let's bury that man and go back to Hilltop. Things will be different, you'll see.'

'You are utterly contemptible, Billy,' she said. 'I always knew you were. I never expected to hear you prove it.' She got up.

'Meg,', he said, his voice urgent, reaching for her hand. 'If
...
if I were to be convicted, they'd hang me. Don't you realize that?'

She evaded his grasp, looked at him over her shoulder. 'There has never been a Hilton hanged,' she said.

'Well, then
...'
He was on his knees, perhaps as part of getting up.

'But the family has experienced everything else,' she said. 'Even having one of them declared mad. I don't think a hanging would be very amiss.'

The road round Hilltop took them down to the coast, and they encountered people. By the time they reached Kingston itself they had accumulated a following of black people, men, women, and children, gossiping with each other and with the Negro drivers. 'Well, is a fact, man,' Washington explained, 'there is trouble all right. But the mistress is goin' to see to it. Oh, yes, the mistress will see to it.'

He was being very careful. But he was her man, as long as she deserved it.

'Meg,' Billy said for the twentieth time.

'Be quiet, Billy,' she said. 'I shall remember everything you say, and may well repeat it.'

He chewed his lip, and they rode down King Street, the size of the crowd now attracting several policemen, one of whom stepped in front of the procession with his hand raised.

'Mr Hilton?' He peered at Billy. 'But what is this?' His gaze turned to Meg. 'Mistress Hilton. Eh-eh. But we is hearing
...'

"That I was ill, constable,' Meg said. 'I am well again now.'

The policeman appeared to notice the blanket-covered body for the first time.

'Ow me Gawd,' he remarked. 'But what is that?'

'It is a dead man,' Meg said. 'Shot by my husband, who wishes to give himself up. Will you lead us to the station, please ?'

The policeman pushed his white helmet forward the better to scratch his head. He looked at Billy.

Who licked his li
ps. 'It
...
it can all be explained, constable,' he said. 'My wife feels we should do it properly, don't you know.'

The policeman replaced his helmet. 'You men,' he said to his fellows. 'Watch the crowd, eh? You coming with me, Mr Hilton, Mrs Hilton.'

Meg looked to left and right. Windows were opening, jalousies were being thrown back, verandahs were suddenly crowded. Whenever Meg Hilton came to town, there was a sensation. But this would be the sensation to end all.

They followed the policeman, the procession behind them now accompanied by the other constables, but it was perfectly well behaved, although the rumours were spreading even wider and ever more extravagantly. They walked their horses through the gates of the Central Police Station, and Meg's heart gave a lurch; it reminded her too vividly of the Spanish military camp, nine years before, although these buildings were in much better condition and the paint was fresh. And above all, the Union Jack fluttered from the flagpole.

Washington and the other drivers were allowed in, and then the gates were shut. But a constable had been sent ahead and a young white police officer was waiting for them. 'Mr Hilton? Mrs Hilton? My word. Allow me, Mrs Hilton
...'
He hurried forward to assist Meg from the saddle.

Billy dismounted. 'I think this is a matter for the Inspector General, Hardie,' he said.

'Oh, eh, well, yes, of course you're right, Mr Hilton.'

'And I would be obliged if you'd send for my father, as well,' Billy said.

He was regaining his confidence every moment.

'Of course. Yes, indeed. But you'll come inside. Mrs Hilton
...'
He offered Meg his arm. 'We had heard you weren't very well.'

'I am perfectly well, thank you, Mr Hardie,' she said. 'Will you send for someone for me as well, please?'

'Oh, of course, Mrs Hilton, of course.' He escorted her up the stairs. 'But your gown
...
will you allow me.' He took off his uniform jacket.

'Why, thank you.' Meg allowed herself to be wrapped in the heavy drill. 'I'd like
...'

'Let's get you somewhere private.' He escorted them through a charge room filled with uniformed constables, all hastily clicking to attention at the appearance of Jamaica's most powerful planting family.

'I would like to see Dr Phillips, please,' she said.

'Now, Meg,' Billy protested.

'Will you send for him, Mr Hardie?'

'Oh, I, well
...
of course I shall. If you'll come in here
...'
He opened a door, showed them into an office, furnished with two desks and three comfortable chairs, and with an opened window which looked out over the compound. 'I'm sure the colonel is on his way.'

"Thank you, Hardie,' Billy said, and himself closed the door. 'Now look here,' he said. 'The sooner we call a halt to this farce the better.'

Meg sat down. Her legs felt weak. It was very many years since she had spent almost an entire day in the saddle.

'I am speaking to you, Meg,' Billy said.

'I would save what you have to say for Colonel Waite,' she suggested, and watched the door open.

The Inspector General was a heavy-set man with a ginger moustache. He had spent most of his adult life in the Colonial Police Force, and the previous fifteen years in Jamaica. He peered at them with a frown, and then closed the door and came into the room. 'Meg? Billy? But Meg
...
they said
...'

"That I was mad, Cyril? I assure you, I am not.'

Colonel Waite took off his uniform cap, held out his hands.
'Well, it is absolutely splendi
d to see you, and to see you looking so well.' He squeezed Meg's hands. 'Billy?'

'This is a dashed unfortunate affair, Cyril,' Billy said.

'I have been hearing some garbled reports,' Waite agreed. There is a dead man downstairs. Shot in the back, so far as I can make out. I have also been given a rifle registered in your name, Billy, which is reputed to have been the
...
ah
...
weapon used.'

'Well,' Billy said. 'If I can explain
...'

'You are sure you wish to ? I shall have to have a secretary in here, to take down what you say.'

'Well,' Billy said. 'Couldn't we, well, discuss this privately first?'

Waite looked at Meg.

'I think we should have a witness, Cyril,' she said. 'It is a very serious business.'

Waite scratched his head, turned to the door at a knock. 'Yes?'

Walter Reynolds hurled the door back as he entered the room. 'Billy? What on earth
...'
He stared at Meg, and his jaw dropped. 'What is she doing here?'

'I am accusing my husband of murder, Walter,' Meg said.

'My God,' Waite remarked, at large.

'You
...'
For a moment Walter Reynolds seemed to have lost the power of speech. 'She's mad, you know, Cyril. Quite mad. You do know that? She has had to be kept under restraint these past seven years.'

'I have been imprisoned by my husband and his paramour these past seven years,' Meg said, still speaking very quietly. "That is another charge I shall be preferring in due course. For the time being, murder will do.'

'My God,' Waite said again, and sat down behind one of the desks. Then hastily rang the bell.

'Now look here,' Walter Reynolds said. 'I demand
...'

The door opened, and an orderly came in. 'You rang, sir?'

'Yes. I want someone in here with a notebook.' Colonel Waite glared around the room. 'No one is to say another word until that happens. And when it happens, I wish you to consider very carefully what you do say.'

'Dr Phillips is here,' the orderly said.

Waite sighed. 'Well, you had better show him in.'

Then I wish Dr Roberts summoned,' Walter Reynolds said.

'Oh, very well,' Waite agreed. 'Send for Dr Roberts, constable. And get that secretary in here.'

The orderly wisely left the door open, and a moment later John Phillips came in, clearly dragged straight from his surgery. 'Walter? Billy? Cyril? I was told this was a very urgent matter.' He saw Meg. 'Meg? They told me
...'

'Don't say it,' Meg said, 'or I am liable to be very rude. I sent for you, John. I wish you here while I make my deposition. Is your man ready, Cyril ?'

The police secretary had sidled into the room and taken his seat, notebook poised on his knee.

‘
Well, ah
...'
Waite looked from one to the other of the men.

'You surely aren't going to listen to her,' Walter Reynolds protested. 'She is quite mad. That is an established fact' He turned to his son. 'Billy?'

'Well, I'm afraid it is, you know.'

Colonel Waite looked at Meg. 'She seems perfectly sane to me,' he said.

'I think that is something we should clear up before we go any further,' Meg said. 'Ah, Dr Roberts.'

The door had opened again; the room had become quite crowded. 'Mrs Hilton,' Roberts said. 'I must protest at your behaviour. I heard how you had absconded
...'

'From my own house, my own plantation?' Meg demanded.

'Well, in view of your health
...'

'My health? Colonel Waite has just congratulated me on how well I look. But then, he was not informed of what he should say. I am perfectly fit in body and in mind. Cyril, I wish to state that I have been kept a prisoner in my own house for the past seven years, by my husband, by my cousin Oriole Paterson, and by this so-called doctor, who signed all the necessary certificates.'

'Meg,' the colonel begged.

'I'd like to finish,' she said quietly. "The basis for their confinement was my behaviour in running off with my lover for what I supposed was a few days in Cuba. This no doubt makes me a very wicked woman in some people's eyes, but not necessarily a mad one. I hope your man is taking all of this down. As you know, my adventure turned out badly; I was taken by the Spanish, considered to be a
guerrilla
, and subjected to quite inhuman treatment. As a result of that I contracted malaria and returned here in a generally weakened state, and, I admit it quite freely, then suffered a breakdown in health, physical as well as mental, which caused me to be confined to bed for several months. Upon my recovery, however, I was informed by my husband, by his paramour and by Dr Roberts here, that I had been certified insane and that they had no intention of ever allowing me to resume a normal life again. Let me finish, Cyril. The reason behind all of this, the reason, I even suspect, that I am still alive, is that by the providentially thoughtful terms of my father's will, I do not own Hilltop, but only hold it in trust for my son Richard. Therefore, were I to die, the entire estate would pass to him. But while I am alive, I have the complete running of the plantation, so that anyone who controls me, controls the whole.'