Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

After she had seen Beattie off back to the Hall, she looked boldly at the car, still parked outside Gus’s house, and then she glanced into his front window. It was not easy to distinguish the figures, but she was sure Mrs. Bloxham was sitting by the fireplace and Gus was leaning over her, straightening what looked like a shawl around her shoulders. Whippy was curled up on her lap.

Miriam’s blood rose, and, beetroot-faced, she hurried back into her own house, banging the door behind her. “Who cares if he saw me!” she muttered. “He’ll have to have a good explanation next time he comes to tea!”

IVY WALKED SLOWLY down the High Street, conscious that the ache in her back was slowly fading. It had been quite an effort to leave the comfortable chair in Springfields lounge and set out with her stick. But now, after stepping out gently, she had reached the shop, and intended to turn back. Then she thought maybe she would treat herself to a box of Black Magic chocolates, and climbed the steps.

“Good afternoon, Miss Beasley!” Will said. He had just glanced at the clock and saw that it was nowhere near closing time so he might as well fill in time by being nice to an old lady.

“Are you still happy in our village?” he said pleasantly.

“No option,” said Ivy. “Anyway, it’s adequate for my needs now. Of course, at one time I was much more active and Ringford relied on me for all kinds of things.” She wandered round the shop, reflecting that the one good thing about Barrington was that she had arrived as a blank sheet. All they knew about her was that she was Mrs. Bloxham’s cousin. Had she still been in Ringford, where her reputation was of an upright, unrelenting spinster with a sharp tongue and frugal habits, her decision to buy herself a box of Black Magic would have set tongues wagging for days.

“There we are, then,” Will said. “Don’t eat them all at once!”

Shall if I like, Ivy muttered childishly to herself as she left the shop. She walked a few paces and then saw the town bus on its return journey coming towards her. Perhaps she would just hover and watch out for Beattie Beatty returning. The bus stopped, but as it moved on again, Ivy could see that Miss Beatty was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, she turned and continued on her way back to Springfields.

“Ivy,” said a soft voice behind her. Deirdre’s car had driven up so quietly that she hadn’t heard it. “Jump in,” her cousin said.

Ivy was about to say that her jumping days were over, when she saw that Deirdre’s face was pale and drawn, not at all what it should have been on returning from a visit to her admirer at the Hall. She clambered into the car, and they coasted on towards Springfields.

They settled safely in Ivy’s room with a tray of tea, which, on seeing Deirdre’s shaky progression up the stairs, Katya had prepared as quickly as she could. Then, in fits and starts, Deirdre gave a detailed account of all that had happened and Ivy sat silently thinking.

Deirdre wondered if she’d gone on too long, and exhausted Ivy. The poor old thing had been a bit middling herself. So she concluded her story by saying, “I suppose it might have been an infection, or something I ate yesterday. Gus seemed to think so.”

Still Ivy said nothing, then sighed. “More like poison,” she said.

“Unlikely, Gus seemed to think. What do you reckon, Ivy?”

“Could be poison. Rat poison, probably. They always have it around somewhere on farms. Young Budd could have trampled it in after setting traps. Just unlucky, maybe.”

Deirdre did not believe it. She had reached the firm conclusion that Beattie was mad, and had tried to poison her with doctored biscuits. Or, at the very least, had meant to make Deirdre so ill that she would never set foot in the Hall again. But she supposed that she should not frighten Ivy, and nodded in silent agreement.

There was a knock, and Ivy said, “That’ll be Roy. I said I’d be back around now, and he always pops in for a cuppa.”

Does he, indeed! thought Deirdre. Romance among the oldies? It had been known to happen. Marriage even. She remembered reading recently in the local about a couple in their nineties who’d got wed. The picture showed them beaming out at the photographer, and she had thought, well, why not, even if it means only a couple of years’ companionship and happiness.

Another cup was brought up by the ever-willing Katya, and Ivy debated whether to go over Deirdre’s horrible afternoon again. She decided not, not yet, anyway.

The conversation turned to other things. Roy said he had had a visit, the first in three years. A young great-nephew who was driving through on his way to London had called in. “He asked tenderly after my health, when I know he’d rather have been asking tenderly after my bank balance.” Roy chuckled. “But it was nice to see a young face. Our Katya was very attentive, dear little thing,” he added with a smile.

Then he asked if Deirdre had had a nice afternoon up at the Hall, so the story had to be told once more, this time in an edited version. Roy was horrified, and said the sooner this whole business was cleared up the better.

GUS LOOKED OUT of his kitchen window and wondered if Deirdre had arrived safely back at Tawny Wings. He had tried hard to persuade her to stay, but she had insisted that she would be fine, and had to get back home. He had even settled Whippy on her lap, remembering that stroking a dog was supposed to comfort people and might encourage her to stay. But she had put Whippy down on the floor, saying she would be fine, and went off, wobbling slightly, to get into the car and disappear down Hangman’s Lane.

The episode had shaken him considerably. Although he had not said as much to Deirdre, he knew now that they were up against something very nasty. Once more he thought of contacting the police, but after thinking about it for some time, he decided that this could precipitate more than a violent attack of sickness. If Beattie really did intend to get rid of her rival, a visit from the police might prompt her to panic and have another immediate go at Deirdre, and next time making sure of success. But if he did not tell the police, he was certain now that they had to move fast. They were close. He was pretty sure of that. The Bentalls and the Jessops were linked in a way they now understood, and the root of it all was back in another generation. If they could find out who had first made Beattie’s mother pregnant and caused so much unhappiness, then the rest would fall into place.

He remembered suddenly with some excitement that Ivy and Roy had had that invitation to tea with Mrs. Bentall. That was it, he decided, and picked up the phone. He would cheer up Deirdre by telling her this, and then think of a way of discovering the connection between the Roussels and Beattie Beatty. He was sure now that she did not turn up at the Hall all those years ago out of the blue. There must have been a reason which had been kept quiet.

No answer from Tawny Wings. Gus frowned. Deirdre should be home by now, surely? Perhaps she had called at the shop. Yes, that would be it. He would ring again in half an hour or so.

As he watched, Miriam emerged into her garden next door, and walked up the path to her salad bed. She bent down, pulled up a lettuce, and turned. She was too quick for him to back away, so he waved. She returned his wave enthusiastically and mimicked opening the window. “Come in and have supper with me this evening,” she shouted. “I’m having ham and salad. Got some nice rhubarb to make a fool,” she added.