Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

“Better than renewing your friendship with Theo Roussel?”

Deirdre laughed like a girl. “Now, Gus,” she said, “naughty, naughty! Ready for a fill-up?”

SUNDAY BEGAN PLEASANTLY for Ivy. Katya had asked if she could accompany her to church, and although Ivy was pleased, she hoped there wouldn’t be too much bobbing and crossing. They were early. Ivy was a firm believer in arriving in good time, and she led Katya up the aisle to the front pew. In Ringford, the front pew had always been Ivy’s, and she was not intending to change her habit of a lifetime. “We can keep an eye on the vicar and all those brats in the choir,” she whispered to Katya.

The church was fuller than usual, and when the people were invited to the altar to take Communion, a snaking queue formed to receive the bread and wine. Katya went ahead of Ivy, and when they reached the organ, the girl became so absorbed in friendly Fanny Neston’s plump hands moving over the keyboard that Ivy had to nudge her to keep going.

After the service, a special benefice one, coffee and biscuits were served, and Ivy introduced Katya to the few people she knew. After a few minutes, Miss Neston had come down from the organ and asked for a glass of water.

“Thirsty work?” Ivy said, greeting her. “This is Katya, my Polish friend from Springfields. She also plays the organ, don’t you, dear?” After seeing that the two became instant friends, Ivy eased herself away and made for the vicar’s wife in order to give her a few suggestions, including how to avoid such long queues for communion. She glanced over at Katya from time to time, and saw that she and Fanny were still getting along famously. Then she saw the pair of them going back to the organ and soon there were floating runs of notes that certainly would be beyond the skill of Fanny Neston.

Ivy felt a glow of pride. Her good deed for today, then. Now, she thought, as she noticed that the vicar’s wife had melted away, I must go back to Sunday lunch to see whether Mrs Spurling has taken note of my complaint about last week’s leathery chicken.

She walked up to the organ and whispered to Katya, who was in full flow, that she would see her back at Springfields. Then she walked briskly out of the church and through the sunny churchyard into the street. To her surprise, she heard a voice calling her name. She turned around and was not delighted to see Miss Beatty hurrying to catch her up.

“Good morning!” said Beattie, now in quite a different mood from the grumpy woman who had boarded the bus and scarcely acknowledged Ivy.

“Morning,” said Ivy. “I must get back, I’m afraid…” she began, and then remembered that befriending Beattie Beatty was one of her Enquire Within tasks. There had been no opportunity at the WI, she told herself, not entirely accurately. Well, now here was another chance.

Gus Halfhide, strolling happily along to the pub with Whippy, saw the unlikely pair and grinned. Blimey, talk about body language! Not exactly bosom pals, he reckoned, seeing the distance between them. Now why are they stepping out together, if only reluctantly? He could take a good guess at Ivy’s motive. Pumping Theo’s housekeeper for information was her assignment. But Beattie’s reason for this unlikely duo?

Whippy whimpered, and Gus looked at the emptying church. There was Katya, deep in conversation with funny little Miss Neston. He could see that Fanny was doing most of the talking, but then he knew that Katya’s English was still minimal, though she seemed to understand more than she could speak.

Katya caught sight of Gus and Whippy and waved. She had met them several times around the village, and Gus had always been most kind. She said good-bye to Miss Neston and came over to make a fuss of Whippy.

“She’s so pleased to see you!” Gus said. “It’s a compliment, you know. Whippy chooses her friends carefully.”

“What is compliment ?”

Gus pondered. What was a compliment? “It’s something nice that somebody says to you. Meant to make you feel good.” Well, that wasn’t quite it, but it would do.

“So I must thank Whippy!” Katya said, and smoothed the little dog’s head.

“May I walk you home?” Gus said, in his best gentlemanly manner.

“Of course,” Katya said. “You are a nice person to walk with. Is that compliment?”

MEANWHILE, IVY AND Beattie were walking slowly. Each had decided to spin out this opportunity for probing, and when they came to the seat outside the shop, Ivy suggested they rest in the sun for a few minutes.

“Dedicated to a Roussel, I see,” Ivy said, as they sat down.

Beattie nodded. “Mr. Theo’s father,” she said.

“Nice idea,” Ivy said, looking closely at her companion.

“I can think of more accurate ways of remembering him,” Beattie said, a touch of acid in her voice.

Ivy attempted an innocent expression. “Oh, really?” she said. “How would you remember him?”

“I’d rather not,” said Beattie. “He was a rotten husband and a rotten father. Responsible for a lot of trouble in the village and on the estate.” Then she clamped her lips together, making it quite clear that she had no more to say on that subject. But Ivy was not so easily foiled.

“His son is a lot different, so I’ve heard? A real gentleman, so they say up at Springfields.” This was a lie, as Ivy had never heard anything of the sort. Theo Roussel was hardly ever mentioned.

Beattie visibly relaxed. “Oh, yes,” she answered. “Mr. Theo is a lovely man. He is quite a private person though. Likes to sit in his study writing his memoirs and doing the Times crossword. Friendly, too,” she embroidered. “He always asks me to help if he’s stuck with a difficult clue.”

What a whopper! thought Ivy. This stupid woman couldn’t do the crossword in the Women’s Friend . “He must rely on you a lot, Miss Beatty,” she said.

“Oh, you can forget the ‘Miss,’ ” Beattie said, spotting the loaded question and sidestepping it. “It is so nice to talk to somebody who is fresh to the village,” she said. “What brought you here, Miss Beasley?”

Ivy did not return the invitation to use her Christian name, but said that her cousin Deirdre had organised it. “Most of my old friends are either in Heaven-or the other place-or in the local old folks home in Ringford. I wasn’t happy about moving, but now I’m here I intend to make the best of it.”

“Ah, yes. Your cousin Deirdre lives at Tawny Wings, doesn’t she? Such a nice person, though I don’t know her well. A widow, I believe?”

“And a merry one,” chuckled Ivy. She knew exactly where this was leading, and decided to give Beattie Beatty her money’s worth. “When our Deirdre was young, she was a real goer, as they say. I secretly envied her, but with my mother there was no chance I could have a good time with a different lad every night, like our Deirdre.”

“I am sure she settled down,” Beattie said sourly. “I believe her husband owned the big garage in town?”

“Bert? Oh, yes, he was one of many. Deirdre always aimed high, mind you. Money was her goal, and if possible a title to go with it!” She chuckled again, but this time at the look on Beattie’s face. “How come Mr. Theo never married?” she asked.

“It was his choice,” Miss Beatty said sniffily. “As you and I know, there is a lot to be said for the unmarried state.”

“Not so sure about that,” Ivy said. “I had the one chance, but nothing came of it.”

“Well, Mr. Theo was very popular with the girls, come to that,” Beattie said defensively. “He could have married any of the eligible girls around.”