Kate Kingsbury - An Unmentional Murder

No matter how much she told herself that his pending divorce was the reason she couldn’t allow their relationship to go any further, deep down she knew there was a more profound reason. It was her fear that held them at arm’s length.

Fear of loving him too much and then losing him, fear of losing everything-her home, her heritage, her self-respect, her place in the community. She had so much to lose, and her fear was a chasm so wide she couldn’t see across it, much less bridge it.

All she could do was make the most of every second she was in his company, and hope that the memories would be enough to sustain her during the long, empty years ahead without him.

His good-night kiss was bittersweet, and she hugged the memory of it until she fell asleep.

She awoke the next morning with the usual feeling of dread, and did her best to reassure herself. He had always come back. He would do so again.

She found Violet in her usual spot in the kitchen, at the stove with a cup of tea in one hand while she stirred porridge with the other.

Elizabeth greeted her and sat down at the table, reaching for the newspaper as was her habit. “Have you seen Martin this morning?” she murmured as she scanned the headlines. As usual, they were about the war and the slow, agonizing progress across France.

The photograph of a demolished airplane did nothing to calm her already jumpy nerves, and she raised her head sharply when Violet answered.

“You might as well know, Lizzie. Martin disappeared again last night. He hasn’t slept in his bed. I looked in there half an hour ago and he wasn’t there.”

Elizabeth laid down the newspaper with cold hands. “Where can he be? Where can he possibly go that would keep him out all night?”

“I’d like to know how he gets to where he’s going,” Violet said, thumping the teakettle down a little too hard on the stove. “He can’t walk any faster than a tortoise with lumbago. By the time he gets to the end of the driveway he’s on his knees. He can’t ride a bicycle or drive a car, even if he had one to drive.”

“What about the raffle ticket lady?” Elizabeth frowned. “I can’t remember her name.”

“You mean Beatrice Carr?” Violet poured tea into a cup, then carried it in its saucer to the table, where she put it down in front of Elizabeth. “I haven’t seen her in ages. What about her?”

“Well, she was always asking Martin to go with her somewhere. I just wondered if perhaps he was spending time with her.”

Violet’s laugh was pure scorn. “Frightened to death of her, he is. He’d never go anywhere with that hussy. Besides, she rides on the bus from North Horsham. Martin wouldn’t be able to walk that far to the bus stop in the village.” She shook her head. “Blinking mystery it all is, I tell you. Why won’t he tell us where he’s been? He must know we’re worried about him, the silly old goat.”

“Well, either he’s spending the night at the end of the driveway or someone is meeting him there in a car and taking him somewhere.”

Violet’s hands jerked, spilling her tea down the sides of her cup. “I never thought of that. Who do you think it is, then? Who does he know that has a car?”

“I have no idea,” Elizabeth said quietly. “But one way or another, I intend to find out.”

“How many pairs of knickers did you bring?” Polly muttered as Sadie piled the underwear in the kitchen sink. “They can’t be all yours.”

“They’re not.” Sadie turned on the tap and filled the sink with cold water. “Some are mine, some are her ladyship’s, and some are Violet’s. I grabbed every pair I could find.”

Polly gasped. “You really went through Lady Elizabeth’s drawers?”

“Why not? She’ll thank me when we catch the thief. These are all clean, so all we have to do is get them wet, wring them out, and peg them on the line. They’ll dry before your mum wakes up, unless the thief takes them, in which case, when we catch him, everyone will thank us.”

“Why do we have to get them all wet, anyway? Why can’t we just hang them on the line dry?”

“Because the thief might be watching us hang them up and if he grabs them right away and finds them dry he’ll know we’re setting a trap for him and he’ll scarper, won’t he.”

“Well, Ma won’t thank you for waking her up so keep your bloomin’ voice down.” Polly sent a nervous glance at the door. Her mother was asleep in the bedroom at the top of the stairs. If she woke up and saw what they were doing there’d be hell to pay.

“All right,” Sadie muttered. “Here, help me wring these out.” She held out a dripping pair of navy blue bloomers.

Polly took them, wrinkling her nose. “These have to be Violet’s. They must come down to her knees.”

“They do. I’ve seen them when she bends over.”

Polly giggled. “Go on. Whatcha doing staring at Violet’s bloomers, then?”

“Can’t miss them, can I.” Sadie took a pair of pink lace-trimmed drawers and twisted them in a knot.

“Don’t you think we should put other washing on the line as well?” Polly squeezed with all her might. The wool bloomers were heavy and hard to wring out. “Won’t the thief think it strange that there’s only knickers on the line?”

Sadie shrugged. “Those kind of men don’t think straight, do they. All he’ll see is knickers and he’ll grab them.”

For the first time Polly felt a stab of fear. “Here, what if he’s barmy and he goes after us with a blinking knife or something?”

“That’s why we have to make sure he don’t see us.” Sadie laid the drawers on the draining board and reached for another pair. “We’ll just follow him until he stops somewhere and we can see where he lives. Then we can tell George and Sid to bring him in.”

“What if-” Polly broke off as a faint voice called out from upstairs. “Polly? Is that you?”

Polly shook her head fiercely at Sadie, then opened the door. “It’s all right, Ma, it’s only me.”

Her mother’s voice drifted down the stairs. “What are you doing home this time of day?”

“I had to collect the rents, Ma. I just stopped in to get a woolly. It’s a bit chilly at the manor this morning.”

“All right, then.” This was followed by the soft sound of a door closing.

Polly waited a moment longer, then shut the kitchen door. “Let’s get this lot outside,” she whispered, “before Ma comes down to see what we’re doing.”

Sadie gathered up the wet washing. “You get the pegs,” she whispered back. “I’ll take these.”

Polly followed her outside and breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the back door behind her. Grabbing the peg bag off the clothesline, she muttered, “I hope we’re not wasting our blinking time. What if he won’t come out in daylight? I don’t want to sit here all night waiting for him.”

“Neither do I. I’m hoping Joe will be back from his mission so we can go out again tonight. We had such a good time last night. He’s really beginning to loosen up now. He even kissed me last night without me having to kiss him first.”

Polly started pegging the wet clothes to the line. “You really like him, then?”

Sadie smiled. “He’s a really nice boy. Got really nice manners, too. Knows how to treat a lady, he does.”

“But what about when he goes back to America? Aren’t you going to miss him?”

“Well, of course I am.” Sadie stuck a peg between her teeth and hooked another one over the line. “That’s why I won’t let myself get too fond of him. He’s not really my type, anyhow. He’s just fun to be with, that’s all.” She looked at Polly over the line of washing. “Don’t worry, Pol. It’s not like it was with you and Sam. It’s not going to break my heart when Joe goes back.”