Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

“There’s more,” said Gus, helping himself to another cookie. “Miriam said she remembered Beattie in the early days. When she first came to the Hall she was mouse-like. Did exactly what she was told, and never ventured an opinion. There were rumours went round the village that there was something bad in her past. But gradually things changed, according to Miriam. Finally, Theo had more or less handed over everything to Beattie to manage, and it’s been like that ever since.”

Ivy sat up like a ramrod in her chair. “Did you say something bad in her past? Did Miriam say what it was?”

“I asked, but she said the rumour died down, and in the end got forgotten.”

“But not by Miriam,” Ivy said. “Write that down, Deirdre. Question for Miss Blake.”

“This is not a meeting, Ivy,” Deirdre said, checking on Gus, who was looking really tired now.

“Just a memo,” Ivy said blandly. “We might forget. Then we must leave him to get some rest. He’s beginning to look a bit peaky.”

Gus protested that he was fine, but Ivy was firm. “Come along, Deirdre,” she said. “I’ve had a letter from our cousin in Thailand I want to show you. See you later, Gus. You might feel like coming downstairs to meet Mr. Goodman. He’s eighty-six and has lived in Barrington all his life.”

Oh, how lovely, groaned Gus to himself, but then he remembered that Ivy was paying for all this, and he felt obliged to sing for his supper. “That would be very nice,” he said.

“WE HAVEN’T GOT a cousin in Thailand,” Deirdre said, as they went along to Ivy’s room.

“I know we haven’t,” Ivy said. “I just wanted to get you away. Poor Augustus was wilting.”

“Yes, well, he’s quite a tough flower,” Deirdre said huffily. “What do you really want?”

“I want to know if you are really visiting Theo Roussel this Saturday, because if you are, the weather forecast is not good and I am certainly not sitting on the seat outside the shop in the pouring rain so that you can cuddle up to the squire on the sofa.”

“Ivy!” Deirdre stared angrily at her, then suddenly burst out laughing. “You are a tonic, Ivy,” she said. “Thank goodness you decided to come and live in Barrington. You’d be wasted mouldering away in Ringford.”

“I don’t moulder,” said Ivy. “But I’ll give you this, Deirdre Bloxham, life at Springfields is very far from what I expected! And this is mostly due to Augustus. We two would have mouldered away, as you put it, in this village like any other village. WI, church, market day in town, whist and cribbage. Nothing more exciting than what I’ve been doing all my life. But now, well, you know…”

This was a long speech for Ivy, and Deirdre was amazed to see that she was actually blushing. Ivy blushing! What was it about Gus? she thought. He was not really conventionally attractive. Skinny body, thin gingery hair all over the place, oddly uncoordinated in his movement. But his smile was warm, and made you feel good.

“So,” said Ivy, back to her sharp self, “we must keep going. On second thoughts, I shall be able to shelter from the rain in the shop, and can see Beattie safely on the bus. And you must remember you’re at the Hall to find out as much as you can about Beattie before she came to work there. Theo must know a bit about it. He wasn’t always a recluse.”

“He certainly wasn’t,” said Deirdre. “Not by a long chalk. Leave him to me, Ivy. Enquire Within is on the war-path.”

GUS, WITH HIS shoes off and stretched out on the counterpane of his comfortable bed, slept more soundly than he had for weeks. He did not wake up until a light tapping at his door caused him to look at the clock beside him. It was six o’clock, and the sun was in the west, shining low through his drawn curtains.

“Who is it?” he called sleepily.

“Katya. May I come in, Mr. Halfhide?”

Gus hastily ran his hands through his scrappy hair and rubbed his eyes. “Of course,” he replied, and Katya poked her head round the door. “Supper in fifteen minutes,” she said. “You like supper here? Or to come down the stairs and be happy with the others?”

Gus laughed delightedly. “Oh, I must come down and be happy with the others,” he said, and swung his legs off the bed. “Oh, steady on, Gus,” he said. “Still a bit dizzy, I’m afraid, Katya,” he added, and stretched out his hand. She immediately came forward and took his arm. “Let me help you,” she said. “Perhaps you sit in the chair? I will put on your shoes.”

She was kneeling down tying his shoelaces when Mrs. Spurling entered.

“I’ll do that,” she said abruptly. Katya stood up, red in the face, and rushed out of the room. Mrs. Spurling looked Gus straight in the eye.

“It will be good for you to tie your own shoelaces, Mr. Halfhide,” she said. “Or if you can’t manage-genuinely-we can find you a pair of slippers to wear while you are here. Katya is a vulnerable young girl. I believe I do not have to say any more. Now, will you be all right to come down for supper? Take it steadily. The exercise is necessary for your recovery.” She marched out of the room without further comment.

Suitably chastened, Gus arrived in the dining room and saw Ivy beckoning to him. She was sitting at a table by the window, with a neatly groomed little man next to her. Gus sat down carefully, and Ivy said she was glad to see he was looking rested.

“This is Mr. Goodman,” she continued, and turned to the old man. “And this is Mr. Halfhide. He is a friend of mine, recuperating from a nasty accident.”

Gus thought a spot of informality would warm the atmosphere, and said he would much rather be Gus than Mr. Halfhide. He looked enquiringly at Mr. Goodman.

“Good idea,” the old man said, “I’m Roy. They ask you in here if you’d like to be known by your Christian name and I said yes. But it made no difference. They all call me Mr. Goodman. Because of my great age.” He chuckled, and added that he was a boy at heart. “Always a boy at heart,” he repeated, and smiled warmly at Ivy.

She ignored him, and said she understood that cod was on the menu for this evening. She could recommend it, she told Gus. “Fried in batter,” she said.

“With chips?” said Gus.

“Of course,” said Roy delightedly. Here was a man after his own heart. “Do you play cards, Gus?” he said. “We usually have a game of whist after supper.”

Gus frowned. “Pontoon’s my game,” he said, looking warily at Ivy.

“ Vingt -et-un ,” she said, with a decidedly English accent. “Dad was an excellent player. And we always played for matches,” she added firmly.

“Fine,” said Roy, producing a box of Swan Vestas from his pocket. He was a pipe smoker, but it was not allowed at Springfields. He kept the matches in his pocket as a comforter and would hold them in the palm of his hand when feeling down.

Now he said that a game of pontoon would be marvellous. He felt brighter than he had for ages, and hoped the Lands’ End catalogue would arrive soon. He noticed that Gus had a most attractive jacket. Perhaps he would get one like that. Maybe Ivy would help him choose, though he suspected she had very conservative tastes.

The cod arrived, and Gus was pleased to see a full bottle of tomato ketchup on the table. “Great!” he said. “Let’s get stuck in.”

THE GAMBLING THREESOME was the object of great interest in the lounge after supper. Four ladies, all somberly dressed as befitted their widow status, had their usual game of whist, but could not concentrate. The frequent bursts of laughter and whoops of triumph from Gus and Mr. Goodman disturbed them. One of them put her finger to her lips as she caught Ivy’s eye. “Ssshh!” she said. Her message fell on deaf ears. Ivy was enjoying herself, taken right back to the rare occasions when her mother was out for the day, and she and her father settled down to a hand or two of pontoon. They had played for matches, as they were doing now, but she remembered that her father had a bar of chocolate at the ready for the winner. And Ivy was always the winner.