Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

On the way to Tawny Wings, a Land Rover passed her slowly, then stopped, backed somewhat erratically, and the window was lowered.

“Good morning! Is it Miss Beasley?”

“It is,” said Ivy coldly. “And who are you?”

“Theodore Roussel, and I’ve heard so much about you from your cousin. I thought I would just say hello. Perhaps you would like to come up to the Hall with Deirdre one day and have coffee with me?”

“Very kind of you, I’m sure,” Ivy said. “Nice to have met you. Good morning.” She bit her lip and limped on. Standing still, she had felt the pain again. Funny old thing, thought Theo, as he drove off. Not exactly friendly! And nothing at all like jolly Deirdre.

When Ivy was settled in a chair with a straight back, she explained to Deirdre that she’d got out of bed awkwardly. “Nothing serious,” she said, “so don’t fuss.” On no account would she mention the strain of pushing Roy about the village.

“Well, now, what have you to report?” Deirdre said.

“Nothing much-except that I met your ex-boyfriend on the way up here.”

“Theo? Where was he?”

“In a battered old Land Rover, cruising along outside your house, no doubt hoping to get a glimpse of you. He got me instead!” Ivy laughed grimly. “Anyway, he just introduced himself and drove off. Pleasant, I thought.”

“That’s wonderful!” Deirdre said. “He’s really finally escaped the old dragon. Don’t you think it’s wonderful, Ivy?”

Ivy nodded. “Yes it is,” she said. “But let’s hope he doesn’t go completely wild. You know what male dogs are like, once they’re off the leash.”

“He’s not a dog! And he’s certainly not a silly young man anymore. Did he mention me?”

“Oh yes, in passing,” said Ivy.

“What did he say?”

“Invited me to come up to the Hall for coffee. With you, of course.”

“Good-o! I’ll give him a ring and fix a day. Calls are getting straight through to him now.”

“So now we’ve got that out of the way, what’s the interesting news?” Ivy said, shifting uneasily in her seat.

“Well,” Deirdre said, “you know I was going to a social services meeting yesterday afternoon? Well, I happened to mention fostering to a friend who works there, and she passed me on to this man from Oakbridge who’d given a talk. I’d missed it, being late starting from here…” And then she gave Ivy an entertaining account of her conversation and the information this man was able to give her, until the irritating interruption.

“So, what a piece of luck, eh, Ivy?” she said. “Now we know about Buster Bentall being a dreadful old Victorian father, and him cutting off Beattie’s mother and the kids, and the criminal no-good husband and father of the third child. Oh yes,” she added, “and the poor wife of Buster. Being cut off from her daughter and grandchildren broke her heart.”

“Did he mention that there’d been twins? Or what happened to the boy? Or anything about the twins’ father or the foster parents?”

Deirdre sighed. Trust Ivy to concentrate on what she had not discovered, rather than new trustworthy information. “No, dear,” she said. “I was getting round to it when he was dragged off to talk to other people. But I did get his name from my friend afterwards, and his address and phone number.”

“Well done,” Ivy said, aware that she had been a bit grudging. If only these twinges would settle down…

“So what shall we do next, d’you think?” Deirdre could see that Ivy was in pain, but knew better than to ask if she would like a pill. Best thing to do, she thought, would be to distract her. Poor old Ivy, she was determined not to give up.

“Another trip to Oakbridge, I suppose,” Ivy said. “Now we know poor Caroline Bentall’s husband was a Jessop, that’s another important lead. There will certainly be records of him. Probably still some young Jessops in the town. Ask in the post office, Deirdre. You and Gus should go, and don’t offer to take Mr. Goodman!”

Deirdre laughed, and went off to warm up a quiche for lunch. As she switched it to a low heat, an idea came to her. She walked back to the drawing room and was surprised to see Ivy on her feet.

“Two squirrels in your garden, eating the bird food.” Ivy tapped her stick on the window and the squirrels scooted rapidly up a nearby silver birch tree.

“How’s the back?” Deirdre said, and Ivy replied that it was much improved and she would thank Deirdre not to mention it again.

“Right,” said Deirdre. “Now, I’ve had an idea. When Gus and me go to Oakbridge, why don’t you and Roy come along for the ride? You’ve never been there, Ivy, and Roy could tell you about the town as we drive round. I can drop you off at a decent café, and you can have a bite to eat and then go back to the car. It’s very comfortable, and you can listen to the radio or something. I could give you my spare keys,” she added, warming to her idea. Then she looked at Ivy’s face, and added quickly, “So shall we think about it and decide later?”

WHEN THEO RETURNED to the Hall, after an enjoyable session in the pub with some old village friends who remembered him as a young tearaway, he went straight to the kitchen and told Beattie he’d met Miss Beasley, Mrs. Bloxham’s cousin, and had invited them both for coffee one morning. He would let her know which day, after he had spoken to Deirdre.

Deirdre is it now? fumed Beattie. But her new strategy made her say pleasantly, “That will be very nice. It is such a treat to see you out and about again. Lunch will be ready soon.”

So Deirdre and Miss Beasley were coming to the Hall for coffee. Beattie bashed a piece of rump steak with the rolling pin until if meat could speak, it would have yelled for mercy. No doubt Theo would want her to wear cap and apron and bring in a tray set out with the best china on an embroidered cloth, curtsey and retreat backwards out of the room!

As she peeled newly picked cooking apples to make a crumble, she set her mind to find a way to turn the coffee party to her own advantage. After a few minutes, her face brightened. Ah yes, that would be the answer. She began to hum, and then burst into a cheerful if tuneless version of “ ‘All You Need is Love.’ la de-da de-da.” John Lennon would turn in his grave, she thought. When Theo passed by the kitchen door and heard an odd noise, he realised with surprise that it was Beattie giggling.

IN SPITE OF Ivy’s protestations that it was a bad idea, she and Roy were comfortably tucked up on the backseat of Deirdre’s luxury car, rugs around their knees, and a large thermos flask of hot coffee with beakers, sugar and chocolate biscuits in a basket between them.

When Deirdre had suggested it to Gus yesterday, he had not been keen, and said frankly that they’d be much freer to investigate whatever came up if they were on their own. “After all,” he said, “we could find a lead in Oakbridge that could keep us there for hours.”

Deirdre had agreed, but said they had to be very careful with Ivy. She could easily decide to give up the whole thing, especially with the back pain.

“She said it was quite gone when we turned up this morning,” Gus had said sulkily.

“Yes, well, that’s good. But she and Roy are very useful in this whole affair, and we don’t want them to feel left out,” Deirdre insisted. “Ivy has a talent for seeing straight through to the heart of things, and Roy in his best moments produces nuggets of vital local information. For instance,” she had added, “there’s that story of his about the recluse lady who’d lived in Springfields before it became an old folks’ home. Who was she? And what about the woman who looked after her? I’ve never heard anyone speak of them before, and I’ve lived in Barrington quite a while now.”