The Silent Pool (14 page)

Meriel could not have wished for a more dramatic entrance. Everything was going her way. Without any foreknowledge, she had had the impulse to wear her old green dress, then when she had made up her mind to follow Geoffrey there was no need for her to do anything but pick up a torch. The soft clinging stuff, the dark colour, were perfect for the role she was going to play, and when she reached the lodge she had only to walk in and very gently and cautiously set the living-room door ajar. It was not the first time she had played that trick when she wanted to listen, and no one had ever tumbled to it. It was just a matter of a steady hand and taking your time to turn the handle and free the catch.

And now she had her cue. Pat on Esmé’s ‘Who cares if we took a stroll in the garden?’ she flung the door wide and stood on the threshold, saying in her deepest voice, ‘The police might be interested, don’t you think?’

Esmé Trent had a cigarette in her hand. The smoke rose faintly. She lifted her brows and said in a cool, sarcastic voice,

‘Play-acting, Meriel?’

Geoffrey Ford’s colour deepened. There was going to be a row, and there was nothing he hated so much. And both these girls had tempers. He had a fleeting thought of Ellie Page, gentle and clinging as a woman ought to be – only the worst of it was that kind took everything so hard.

Meriel came into the room, thrusting the door to behind her. She said, quick and angry,

‘The police won’t think so when I tell them you were down by the pool just about the time someone pushed Mabel Preston into it!’

Esmé Trent drew at her cigarette and let out the smoke with slow deliberation. Her brightly painted lips were steady, her hand was steady. She said with the same sarcastic intonation,

‘You seem to know rather a lot about it, don’t you? How she was drowned. When she was drowned. You might wish you hadn’t started putting ideas into the heads of the police. After all, you tore your dress on the hedge, which proves that you were there. Whereas with regard to Geoffrey and me it’s just your word against ours. You say we were there, and we say not. And that makes two to one.’ She blew out another little cloud of smoke. ‘The room was hot. We went out for a breath of air and strolled on the lawn. We were never anywhere near the pool. That’s the way it goes, isn’t it, Geoffrey?’

She looked up at him over her shoulder and saw his uneasy eyes. He had got to his feet and stood there in front of the chair from which he had risen, the hand with the cigarette hanging down, ash dropping from it on the carpet. Contempt for him came up in her. He looked like a horse that is going to shy. She wasn’t scrupulous, but she would always take her fences.

Her look stung him into speech.

‘Yes — yes – of course.’

Meriel laughed.

‘Not much good as a liar, are you, Geoffrey? I should have thought you would have had plenty of practice. Or do you always tell Edna just where you’ve been and with whom? But I suppose this is a little bit different. You don’t push someone into a pool and drown them every day, and I suppose it’s rather unnerving to find that you were seen.’

The angry colour rushed into his face.

‘Have you gone mad? Mabel Preston was drunk, and she tumbled into the pool and was drowned! Why should I – why should anyone want to drown her?’

‘Oh, not her – not poor Mabel. It was Adriana you thought you were doing in. But as it turned out, it wasn’t. It was only Adriana’s coat – the one she wouldn’t give me when I asked her for it. It would have served her right if she had been wearing it – wouldn’t it? And we should all have been free and with enough money to do what we liked. It’s a pity you didn’t bring it off, isn’t it? But I’ll say you tried! I’ll not only say it, I’ll swear it! You were there in the summerhouse – I could hear you whispering. And when I came away, there was Mabel Preston coming across the lawn full of cocktails and talking to herself. You see, I really have got something to tell the police—’ She paused and added, ‘if I choose.’

Esmé Trent’s alert gaze had gone from one to the other. She said now in a cool, drawling voice,

‘And what do you expect to get out of going to the police? You had really better think it over. You say we were in the summerhouse, and we say no. And we say – listen carefully, Meriel – we say you came down here and tried to blackmail us because you knew that Geoffrey and I were friends and you were jealous. We could also tell Adriana some of the amiable things you have just been saying about her. She would be interested to know you thought it was a pity that it wasn’t she who was drowned!’ Her eyes were bright and hard on Meriel. She gave a short laugh and went on speaking. ‘You know, really you had better not stick out your neck. Geoffrey says there was something about your spilling coffee all down the front of that cyclamen dress you wore on Saturday. Now I wonder how you came to do that – or shall I say why you did it? Yes, that’s nearer the mark, isn’t it? And I think I can give you the answer. Coffee would be a very convenient thing to hide the sort of stains you might get on a light-coloured dress if you pushed someone into a pond and held them down. By the way, what have you done with the dress? If you can’t produce it, that will look a bit odd, won’t it? And if you’ve been stupid enough to take it to the cleaners, the police will be able to get their evidence as to just what stains there were. I don’t suppose the coffee would have covered everything exactly. No, my dear Meriel, you had really better hold your tongue. And if you will stop dramatizing yourself and put your mind to it, you will begin to think so too.’

Meriel’s natural pallor had become ghastly. Her eyes blazed. She was caught up in a rush of fury. She went back until she could feel the door behind her. She groped for the handle and pulled on it until there was a gap that was wide enough to let her through. It gave her confidence to stand like that on the threshold, dominating the room. She stared at Geoffrey, angry and embarrassed, at Esmé Trent whom she hated with all her heart, and she said,

‘Supposing I was to swear I saw you push her in?’

Esmé said, ‘They wouldn’t believe you.’

Meriel said, ‘Shall we try?’ Then she turned round and went away across the little hall, and down the flagged path, and through the wicket gate.

Ellie heard her go. After all the other things, she heard Meriel’s footsteps dying away. At first it was a relief to hear them go. And then drowning the relief, drowning everything else, there was the memory of what she had heard Meriel say. It came on her with a rush, and it brought fear with it – terrible, heart-shaking fear. She had to lean upon the windowsill because of the fear that was shaking her. Her whole body trembled with it, and her thoughts too. If she had not had something to lean on she would have fallen. And then perhaps they would have come out and found her there…

At the thought of being found by Esmé Trent a cold mist came up between her and the amber glow from the lighted room. There were ‘voices beyond the mist. Esmé Trent said sharply,

‘She’s dangerous.’ And Geoffrey said on a low, troubled note, ‘What did she mean, Esmé – what did she mean?’

‘She said she saw you push her in.’

‘Me – or you?’

‘She said “You”.’

‘She could have meant either of us.’

‘Or both.’ Her voice was taut and hard.

He said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Well, we didn’t do it together — we both know that. But we separated. You thought you heard someone coming. If you did, it was probably Mabel Preston. I went one way, and you went the other. The question is, did you come back?’

‘Esmé, I swear—’

‘Well, did you?’

He said, ‘My God, no!’ And then, after a choking pause, ‘Did you?’

Her carefully darkened eyebrows lifted.

‘Really, Geoffrey! What do you expect me to say? I suggest that you cut out the hysteria and get going! I suppose you don’t want Meriel’s trick of showing off to take her as far as ringing up the County police! I should say she was capable of it in her present mood, and however silly the whole thing is, it would raise the most appalling stink! I suggest that you go after her and call it off!’

His ruddy colour had faded. He stood and looked at her..

‘What can I do?’

She laughed.

‘My dear Geoffrey! Are you going to tell me you can’t talk a woman round? She has always wanted you to make love to her. Run along and give a good performance!’

The colour came back into his face with a rush. Just for a moment he could have struck her. But the moment passed. He caught at his control.

‘I’ll do what I can to talk her round.’

Outside the unlatched window Ellie heard Esmé Trent say something, but she couldn’t wait to hear what it was. She had got to get away before Geoffrey came out. As soon as she stopped looking at the glow through the curtains it was difficult for her to see. The orange dazzle made her three parts blind. She had to feel her way along the narrow path which skirted the house. With arms stretched out before her she was no more than a yard from the porch when the door opened. There was a light in the little hall. It shone out on to the stones and showed her the gate. Geoffrey Ford would have seen her if he had not turned on the threshold. She heard him say, ‘Esmé—’ and, ‘You can’t really think—’ And then he was coming down the path.

Esmé Trent stood where she was to see him go. The gate swung to behind him and his footsteps went away down the drive and on to the road. Ellie stood there frozen. If Esmé looked this way, she would be seen. The light from the passage shone out upon the stones. Esmé went on standing there, but she looked in the direction in which Geoffrey had gone. The time just went on. It seemed endless, but it did come to an end. Esmé stepped back, the door shut, and the light was gone. And with that the frightened life came back into Ellie Page. She reached the gate, the drive, and was running like some frightened woodland thing out between the broken pillars and on to the road. She did not know then, and she was never to know afterwards, just what made her turn to the right instead of to the left as she ran. They say that, other things being equal, a right-handed man will tend to take a right-hand turn. But in this case there was no equality of choice, since a turn to the left would have brought her almost immediately to the shelter of the Vicarage garden, whereas by turning to the right she committed herself to the stretch of road between the lodge and the entrance to Ford House. It may have been that in the panic which had taken her she was incapable of thought, and so that slight preference for the right-hand turn asserted itself. However that may be, she ran with a desperate urgency, and came to the darkened drive which led to Ford House.

Meriel and Geoffrey were before her. Meriel did not run. She had no need to do so. She was very well pleased with herself. She wanted to go over the scene at the lodge and think how clever she had been, and how she would be able to score off that horrid Esmé Trent. She might let Geoffrey off if he was properly humble and devoted. She began to make up another and even more satisfactory scene in which he told her that it was she whom he had always loved – Esmé had enticed him for a time, but when he saw them together just now he had realized the difference between them, and knew that she, Meriel, was the only one in the world for him. Yes, if Geoffrey played his part, she would save him. She could always say that he had said goodbye to Esmé and left her down by the pool before Mabel Preston came across the lawn. It would all fit in very well if she told it like that, and then Esmé would be out of the way for good and all. The more she thought about it, the better pleased she was. And with her own cleverness down at the lodge. She had seen Esmé’s silly little wisp of a handkerchief lying on the floor between the sofa and the door. She had seen it at once, but from where she sat Esmé couldn’t see it at all. Meriel had seen it, and when Esmé turned away from her to look round at Geoffrey she had picked it up as quick as a flash and pushed it down the neck of her dress. If that handkerchief was dropped in the summerhouse and found by the police, it would prove that Esmé had been there. She had said there wasn’t any proof, but the handkerchief would be a very good proof indeed. Esmé had a dozen of these silly little squares with her name embroidered across the corner. They were of four different colours, green, blue, amber, and buff. This was one of the amber ones. Nobody but Esmé had a handkerchief like that. Nobody could have picked it up and dropped it in the summerhouse by mistake. It would be quite a good enough proof to give Esmé a lot of trouble. Even if it didn’t hang her or get her into prison, it would be quite enough to drive her away from Ford.

She was still very pleasantly occupied with these thoughts when she came up to the house. Anyone who was following her might have seen her hesitate for a moment and then abruptly turn and take the path which ran through a shrubbery to the lawn. Her thoughts went on pleasing her. There was no time like the present. The sooner the handkerchief was in the summerhouse, the better. It would be properly limp and damp after lying there through the night, and it would take just no time at all. She had her torch in her hand, but she used it as little as possible. There was a moon behind the clouds, and she knew every step of the way.

When she came to the summerhouse she put the torch on so as to choose the best place for dropping the handkerchief. It must be where it would be found, but it must not be too conspicuous. When she had placed it to her satisfaction she switched off the light and came to stand by the pool. It reflected a sky which seemed brighter than it really was. The light of the unseen moon was heightened by the water. The black hedges shut it in. There was a plane coming up out of the distance. She hardly noticed, it, because with the airfield at Ledbury they came over so often. This one was flying low. The noise it made was there in her mind as an accustomed sound. She gave it no conscious thought, but it prevented her from hearing any movement behind her. There was a movement, and there were footsteps. She might not have heard them in any case, since the paving was damp and soft with moss. Her thoughts were full of triumph.

The blow fell without any warning at all.