Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

“Perhaps next week,” said Ivy. “Young Katya is taking me for a walk later. But yes, Miss Beatty, next week I might like to come with you.”

Even as Ivy said this, a horrid possibility occurred to Beattie. Today! And last Saturday! While she was at market, had Theo somehow managed to get in touch with the Bloxham woman? And was Rose Budd to be trusted?

Ivy could not believe her eyes when Beattie came hurrying down the steps of the bus, just as it was about to depart, exactly as she had last week. But today was different. Beatty reached the bottom step, stopped and shook her head, turned and went back into the bus.

Ivy heard the driver shout, “Make up yer mind, missus!” and the bus departed.

Ivy had been practising with her mobile phone, and in seconds was talking to Deirdre. “She’s gone,” she said. “But it was touch and go again. This time, she didn’t get right off the bus. Just came to the bottom step, then went back in again. Goodness knows what that was about, but she had a face like thunder.”

Deirdre, looking her very best, felt a sudden shiver. She was not cold. It was a beautiful day. It was like someone had walked over her grave, her mother would have said. She gave herself a shake, and said she was on her way.

All the way to market, Beattie boiled with fury. That must be it. While the cat’s away the mice will play. Never a truer saying than that. Perhaps she should have got off the bus and returned to confront Theo and that wretched girl Rose. But it would be too soon. They’d wait until she was well on the way to town. “You can’t trust nobody,” she muttered to herself. She had learnt that at an early age, but years of living in security at the Hall had softened her. Well, now she was hard again. She would get a lift back early with that helpful Broomfield woman next to the shop. She knew she always went into town on a Saturday and came back in the early afternoon. She would find her car in the car park, and wait by it, no matter how long it took. Then they would see how clever they were!

ROSE STOOD BY the kitchen door in the stable yard, grinning from ear to ear as the big car glided to a halt.

“You’re looking very smart,” she said, greeting Deirdre. “Do you know,” she confided, “Mr. Theo has taken his best tweed jacket out of mothballs for your visit! Smells a bit, but it shows how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again, bless him.”

“You like him, then?” Deirdre said.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Rose said. “It’s you-know-who that’s the real nuisance. She rules the roost. Decides everything on the farm, though David says she knows damn all about farming. Anyway, come on in. He’ll be so pleased to see you.” She winked. “And I’ll keep out of the way,” she said. “Just don’t forget that the old dragon will be back at the same time as last week.”

Theo was waiting for her in the drawing room. This time he advanced on nimble feet and embraced her warmly. “Mmmm!” he said. “Same lovely scent as last week!”

He did not immediately let go of her, and Deirdre’s blood quickened. “Same old Theo,” she said. “You haven’t forgotten how to get a girl going!”

They walked over to the sofa, and sat down, still holding hands. “Would you like coffee?” he said, “Or shall we go straight to bed?”

Deirdre laughed. Did he really mean it? She decided to call his bluff, and said straight to bed would be great. But he hadn’t been bluffing, and still holding her hand, he led her up the wide staircase and along to his room, where a large bed with clean sheets put on that morning by an unsuspecting Beatty, awaited them.

He put his arms around her, and she did not mind the whiff of mothballs. “It’s been too long, Deirdre Bloxham,” he said. “But we’ve all afternoon to make up for lost time.”

All Ivy’s strictures about remembering why she was there flew out of the window. Useful conversation later, she said to herself, plenty of time later.

SADIE BROOMFIELD WAS very surprised to see a figure standing by her car as she returned from the supermarket. She was shortsighted, and could not see exactly who it was. Surely not a policewoman! She had definitely put money in the machine and the ticket was on her car’s dashboard, visible to anyone.

As she got nearer, she saw that it was Miss Beatty from the Hall. What on earth was she doing there? Not my favourite person, she said to herself. Nobody’s favourite person. Still, if the woman was in trouble, it was her neighbourly duty to help.

“Miss Beatty!” she said. “Can I help you?”

Beattie explained that she needed to get back early to the village. “Something’s come up, I’m afraid, and I must be back as soon as possible. I knew you were in town most Saturdays, and hoped to find you. I recognised your car, of course,” she added, as pleasantly as she could. “Such a sensible little vehicle,” she added.

Sadie’s car was a bright red Smart Sport, and she was very proud of it. “Delighted to give you a lift,” she said. “Jump in, while I stow my shopping. There’s room for all,” she said. This was an exaggeration, but in due course she, Beattie and the shopping were shoehorned in, and they set off.

Conversation was difficult. Sadie had never spent more than two minutes in Beattie’s company, and now had nothing to say to her. She had tried asking what the emergency was, but got no answer. Miss Beatty was silent for at least half of the return journey, until she said suddenly, “Do you know Mrs. Bloxham?”

“Only by sight,” Sadie said. “Seems a nice enough woman. She always smiles.”

“Huh!” said Beattie. “She won’t be smiling when I get home.”

Sadie was about to ask her more about this odd remark, when a loud bang followed by a series of bumps caused her to stop the car and pull into the side. She got out, and her heart sank. It would happen this afternoon, when she had that unpleasant passenger! A flat tyre, and the first one since she had bought the car. She had no idea how to change it, nor did she intend to try.

Beattie had clambered out and came round to see what had happened. She saw the flat tyre, and said, “Now what do you intend to do? I must get home as quickly as possible.”

Sod you, thought Sadie, and considered telling her to walk. Instead, she dialled the AA rescue service, and explained to Beattie that they would have to wait until an engineer arrived. “Or you could thumb a lift from this lorry coming along,” she said nastily.

Beattie said nothing would persuade her to ride in a lorry with a strange man, and stood with her arms folded, watching while Sadie delved into the car pockets and slots to find the technical instructions for the car.

Time passed, and the AA still did not arrive. Sadie wondered if Beattie needed the loo. It had been a long day, and she had stood vigil by the car, waiting for Sadie to finish her shopping.

As if reading her thoughts, Beattie said that she had noticed a cottage a hundred yards back, and thought she would take a walk to see if she could use their toilet. “Don’t go without me!” she said, and set off at a fast pace. On the way, the bus from town passed her, and the driver waved merrily. She signalled violently, but he did not stop. Probably against the rules, she thought sourly, and trudged on.

Meanwhile, Sadie had had a call from the AA, apologising for the delay, but saying the engineer was now on his way. From where? Sadie had asked. Birmingham, said the girl.

Sadie looked in her driving mirror. No sign of Beattie returning, so she must have been lucky. The bus passed by, but Sadie could see that they had not stopped for her. She supposed she had better telephone the Hall and let them know what had happened. Mr. Roussel would be wondering where his housekeeper had got to. She had the number in her head from times when she was working in the shop and had to consult Beattie on their order.