Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

Beattie could not remember when he had last met a friend in the village. Her head thumped even harder, and she swayed on her feet. But Theo turned around and went out through the kitchen door into the stable yard, saying over his shoulder that he needed a word with David Budd. Beattie sat down quickly and waited for the giddy spell to pass. He had not needed a word with David Budd for at least five years, and she suddenly had a strong urge to burst into tears.

DEIRDRE WAS IN the shower, when she heard the telephone. “Damn!” she said, and hoped that it would soon stop. Whoever it was could ring later. Her answerphone came on, and the ringing stopped. Then it started again. “Damn, damn!” she said, and stepped out of the shower, pulling on her towelling robe.

“Hello!” she said crossly.

“It’s Ivy. Where were you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

“I realise that,” said Deirdre. “I was in the shower. Anyway, I’m here now, so what can I do for you?”

“You can be here at eleven o’clock for coffee with me and Augustus,” she said. “Something’s come up, and we need to discuss it. And make sure you’re on time.”

“I’m always on time!” said Deirdre. But Ivy had rung off.

At eleven o’clock sharp, Gus knocked at Ivy’s door. Deirdre had already arrived, and was sitting with Ivy, showing her the latest photographs of her daughter’s children.

Coffee and biscuits were on the little table by Ivy’s armchair, and Gus sat down. “Morning, colleagues,” he said cheerfully. Deirdre gave him an answering smile and said she hoped he was feeling much better. She knew perfectly well that he was taking advantage of Ivy, but judged that it was none of her business, and if the old thing was feeling charitable then Gus was in luck.

“This is a business meeting,” said Ivy sternly. “Last night, after our game of pontoon, I was getting ready for bed when Mr. Goodman knocked at my door.”

“Who?” said Deirdre, who had forgotten Ivy’s intended research with the oldest inhabitant.

Gus explained that Ivy had an admirer, and the three of them had sat up all night gambling in the lounge.

“That’s quite enough of that, Augustus,” Ivy said. She told Deirdre the correct version of events, and Deirdre said, “You didn’t let him in, I hope?”

Ivy glared at the pair of them. “The poor man could not sleep, and said he had something to tell me. Couldn’t rest until he’d got it off his chest.”

Gus smothered his desire to laugh. He dare not look at Deirdre, who was snuffling into her handkerchief. “Ah, yes,” he said taking a deep breath. “Now I remember. We had just asked the old boy about the time Beattie arrived in the village, and he clammed up and went to bed. Was it about that?”

Ivy nodded. “He came in, sat down, and it all came tumbling out. He said Beattie had come from nowhere. Nobody knew anything about her. She just turned up one day at the Hall.”

“Somebody must have known about her,” Deirdre said. “They wouldn’t have employed a girl without knowing at least where she came from. And they’d have wanted references, surely?”

“How old is she?” Gus said. “You girls would know better than I. I am easily deceived!”

Ivy ignored this. “I would put her at about fifty. What d’you say, Deirdre?”

Deirdre nodded. “Yeah, fifty to fifty-five, I’d say.”

“Mr. Goodman said she was in her late teens when she came,” Ivy continued. He remembered, because his nephew in the village was always on the lookout for new girls. But he didn’t fancy Beattie, apparently.”

Ivy said she supposed Theo Roussel was about the same age as Deirdre. “He was older than me,” Deirdre said, “but not much. It seemed a lot at the time, but it was probably no more than five years’ difference.”

“What else did he say, Ivy?” Gus was sure there was something more important than this.

“Now, this is where it gets interesting,” Ivy answered, enjoying spinning it out. “Mr. Goodman was a committee member of the local farmers’ union, and used to get about quite a lot. Around that time, he was over the other side of the county attending a meeting, and a young farmer came up to him and asked if he lived in Barrington. Then he asked about a girl called Beattie. Had she come to work in the village? And did Mr. Goodman know where she was working?”

“So did he tell?” said Deirdre, now eagerly listening.

Ivy shook her head. “He said he had this funny feeling that it would cause trouble if he told. He said he didn’t know anyone of that name, but asked the young farmer why he wanted to know, and the lad had just laughed. It wasn’t just him who’d like to find her, he’d said. Several others would be glad to have the information.”

“And what else?” Gus asked.

“A while later, quite by chance,” Ivy replied, “Mr. Goodman’s cleaning lady at the farm was turning out old newspapers from the attic, and the one on top of the pile, dated way back, had a big photo. This and the story beneath it had been ringed with a red pen, faded, but still clearly there. Underneath was the news story of a woman who had disappeared, leaving two children alone in a tenement flat. It was several days before a neighbour heard them crying, and managed to get in to release them. They had been taken into care, and the police were hunting for the missing woman.”

“And the photo? Oh, come on Ivy, don’t keep us in suspense.” Deirdre was sitting on the edge of her chair now.

“He said it was the image of Beatrice Beatty as she is now. The missing woman was in her forties, the paper said.”

“And her name?” said Gus impatiently.

“He couldn’t remember exactly. Something like Katherine, or Caroline Bentall, he said.” Ivy helped herself to another biscuit.

“Did it give the children’s names and ages?” Deirdre asked.

“No, it didn’t. They usually don’t,” Ivy said.

“And he said somebody had ringed it round with a red pen?”

“That’s right. So Roy’s family were interested, maybe even involved, with this mystery disappearance?”

“Looks like it,” said Ivy. “But he couldn’t remember anything else. I said it was good that he remembered so much, an’ he said we oldies can remember the past but not what happened yesterday. Can’t say that applies to me… yet.”

“Over to you, Deirdre,” Gus said. “We need to know urgently now what Theo remembers of Beattie’s arrival at the Hall. Tomorrow will be a busy day for you. I’d like to help, but I am a little feeble still.” He was actually feeling fine, but determined to make the most of this unexpected break.

“Oh, we can manage without you,” Ivy said. “I can ring Deirdre and give her the all clear when I see Beatty safely on the bus tomorrow. So,” she added, “off you go Deirdre, and Gus, you can go and chat up Mr. Goodman. See what else he’s remembered. I need to do some thinking.”

THE NEXT AFTERNOON was after all sunny and bright. Ivy sat on the seat beside the bus stop and this second time felt more confident. She chatted to people going in and out of the shop, and kept her eye on Hangman’s Row, waiting for the dumpy figure of Beatty to appear.

Once more, all went well. Beattie saw Ivy sitting there, and asked if she was coming on the bus. “We could go to market together,” she said, in spite of a reluctance to have anything to do with Miss Beasley. She realised a bus journey would be the ideal opportunity to pump the old woman for more details of Deirdre Bloxham and her easy come, easy go ways with the opposite sex. She was sure this exgirlfriend of Theo had something to do with the strange way he had been behaving lately. But how? She had kept a close ear to telephone calls, and a close eye on correspondence and visitors. There had been no opportunity for a return visit from Deirdre Bloxham.