John Francome - Declared Dead

The police arrived to collect me just before lunchtime. I can't say I was surprised. I had tried to phone Tom earlier that morning, only to be told by Mrs Drummond that he had been taken away for questioning shortly after breakfast. She sounded perplexed and upset and said that the police had been extremely brusque in their manner.

It was a curious sensation sitting in the back of a police car with an officer on either side. Like ambulances, police cars may be part of our everyday life but somehow they always seem reserved for somebody else, never you.

After arriving at the station I was shown into a bleak and depressing interview room, which contributed even more to my sense of foreboding. The walls needed a good coat of paint and I could not help wondering what sordid details they had heard over the years. Waiting to greet me was Inspector Wilkinson and he in turn introduced me to an overweight, morose gentleman, a Superintendent Pale down from Scotland Yard. It appeared that Wilkinson was to conduct the interview under Pale's watchful glare.

'Firstly, Mrs Pryde, I must warn you that this interview is being recorded on video camera

I looked over and spotted the camera in the ceiling.

'… and that everything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Is that clear? You are, of course, entitled to say nothing and if you wish, you may contact a solicitor.'

Neither course appealed to me. The last thing I wanted to do was to appear in any way embarrassed or as if I had something to hide.

'No, thank you,' I answered. 'I'm perfectly happy to answer your questions.'

'Good. You told me yesterday that the last time you saw your husband alive was three weeks ago on Friday, that would be the nineteenth.'

'Yes, that's right.'

'You had a row, following which you walked out on him taking your son with you.'

I nodded.

'And since that time, you have had no contact with him?'

'Correct. That's just what I told you yesterday.'

'You know, of course, that Mr Radcliffe claims he saw your husband the next day, in the evening?'

'I've no reason to doubt Mr Radcliffe's word.'

'Can you remember what Mr Radcliffe said about that meeting?'

I chose my words carefully. 'Only that he had asked my husband to meet him at the Crown and Anchor pub on the Marlborough road, that they had a row and that the next thing Mr Radcliffe remembers is waking up in his car, still in the car park, in the early hours of the following morning. He was unable to explain why he had passed out.'

'And you have no idea why your husband and Mr Radcliffe met?'

I had a very good idea, but saw no reason to tell Inspector Wilkinson.

'Is it true to say that you and your husband didn't see eye to eye?'

'You might as well know, Inspector, that my husband didn't see eye to eye, as you put it, with a lot of people. He was capable of being very charming to some people and rather vicious towards others.'

'Didn't he and Mr Radcliffe fall out about a horse?'

'That started it, but it was all over years ago. Tom, I mean Mr Radcliffe, wasn't in the least to blame but you couldn't tell Edward that. He wouldn't hear a good word about him.'

'But you wouldn't describe your marriage as a happy one? Surely the truth is, Mrs Pryde, that your marriage was on the rocks, wasn't it?'

I saw no point in lying. 'Things were going very badly. You've probably heard it all from Mrs Parsons anyway. I no longer loved my husband, Inspector, and I very much doubt if he had the slightest bit of affection for me.'

'Did you consider divorcing him?'

'I did, but I was worried about losing custody of our son.'

'Did you fight?'

'Do you mean just argue, or actually come to blows?'

'Come to blows.'

'He often hit me. The cut above my lip was his work at Cheltenham races, as are these burn marks.'

'Do you know how the blood came to be on that bronze we found at the cottage?'

'It was Edward's. I hit him with the bronze on Friday.'

'Tell us about it.'

I told him about Friday's fight, embroidering it in such a way as to divulge nothing about Freddie's involvement.

'Are you sure your husband was only concussed that evening?'

'If you're accusing me of murdering him, you're wrong. If I had done, how could he have met Mr Radcliffe for a drink on Saturday night?'

'We've only Mr Radcliffe's word for that.'

'What about the landlord and anyone else who saw them in the pub?'

He didn't pursue that train of thought. 'Did you go and ride out at Mr Radcliffe's yard that morning?'

I nodded.

'When you arrived, did you have a long conversation with him in the yard before you started schooling?'

'Not that long, about five minutes.'

'What did you talk about?'

'My ride in the Gold Cup, that sort of thing.'

'Did you mention your husband, what had happened the night before?'

I could see where this line of questioning was leading. Tom's head lad, Jamie Brown, had a sour tongue inside a big mouth, as well as a great aversion to women jockeys.

'If you're referring to the end of our conversation, when Tom said he'd like to get his hands on my husband, that was just talk. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Did he also tell you I said I wanted Edward dead?'

This time it was the Inspector's turn to nod.

'Well I meant it, but that doesn't mean I killed him.'

'Are you sure you don't know what your husband and Mr Radcliffe discussed in the pub, why they became involved in such a heated row?'

I shook my head. 'Positive.'

'They were discussing you. Your husband was telling Radcliffe to stop seeing you. Just how long have you and Radcliffe been lovers, Mrs Pryde?'

'Can I see my solicitor now?'

Amy's appearance was a good deal more sombre than the night before. Leather had given way to a conventional black suit and she behaved more like a solicitor than a friend from the moment she arrived. After a brief discussion in private it was agreed that I would continue to answer questions provided she was present.

Wilkinson went straight back on the attack. 'You don't deny, then, that you are lovers?'

I looked to Amy sitting beside me and she indicated I should answer.

'I was, but am no longer, Tom Radcliffe's lover. Our relationship began over a year ago and lasted for about eight months, after which I put an end to it.'

'Were you in love with him?'

'Yes. But I realised that so long as I was still married to Edward I couldn't continue the affair, and that it wasn't going to make anyone happier in the long term. I was particularly worried that if Edward found out, he would use it as grounds for taking Freddie.'

'How did Mr Radcliffe react to your ending the relationship?'

'He was disappointed, but understanding. He thought I ought to leave Edward and fight him for custody.'

'And you didn't want to do that?'

'You know who my father-in-law is, don't you? What's more, that wouldn't have been in Freddie's interest. He would be the one to suffer most.'

'But you continued to see Mr Radcliffe?'

'On a professional basis only. He had always supported me as a jockey and he saw no reason to stop doing so.'

'Perhaps he hoped you would go back to him?'

'I made it clear that would have been impossible.'

'As long as Edward was alive.'

'If you're seriously suggesting that Tom killed Edward, you're making a grave error of judgement. It's ludicrous. You don't even know that it's Edward's body yet.'

'We're very confident that the blood found near the car will match the blood found on the bronze.'

'And if they don't match?'

'We still have a murder enquiry, and until he is found your husband becomes a missing person again. But don't pin any hopes on it. That body is your husband's and what's more, we believe that Tom Radcliffe murdered him. What we don't know is whether you were in it with him. Were you?'