Minette Walters - The Devil's Feather

She looked pleased. “That’s a relief. I’d hate to think Jess had turned you against them.” She paused before going on in a rush. “Look, I hope you won’t take this wrongly-I know it’s none of my business-but you’ll have a happier time here if you look to the village for friends. Jess can be very peculiar if she takes a liking to someone. It’s not her fault…I’m sure it’s the result of losing her family…but she latches on to people and can’t seem to see how irritating it is.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say it had already happened but it would have felt like a betrayal. I needed to resolve my issues with Jess face to face, not add to the gossip about her by fuelling Madeleine’s curiosity. “She helped me with a few things when I first arrived,” I said. “I was grateful. I hadn’t realized there was only one phone socket here, or that the mobile signal was so bad. That’s why I need broadband.”

But she was only interested in Jess. “Peter should have told you,” she said earnestly. “The trouble is he’s paranoid about breaking patient confidences. It’s not just the latching-on that’s a problem…it’s what she does when she thinks she’s being rejected. It’s obviously a legacy from the car accident-a need to be loved, I suppose-but it can be quite frightening if you’re not ready for it.”

I found myself staring at her in the same detached way that Jess stared at me. For no better reason than that I didn’t know how to respond.

“I expect you think I’m awful,” Madeleine went on apologetically, “but I’d hate you to find out two months down the line that I’m right. Ask anyone.”

I shifted my attention to my hands. “What am I supposed to ask them?”

“Oh dear! I’m not doing this very well. Perhaps I should have said listen. Listen to what they say.”

“About what?”

“The stalking. It starts with her turning up on the doorstep when you first arrive, then she’s in and out all the time. She usually comes with presents or offers of help, but it’s difficult to get rid of her afterwards. She plagued my poor mother for years. In the end, the only way Mummy could avoid her was by hiding upstairs every time she heard the Land Rover on the drive.”

“Peter doesn’t seem to have any problems with her.”

“Only because she doesn’t like him. She’s convinced he tried to turn her into a Valium addict after her parents died. It’s when she fixates on someone that the problems start…and that’s usually a woman.” She examined my face. “I’m not being unkind, Marianne. I’m just trying to warn you.”

“About what? That Jess is inept at making friendships…or that she’s a lesbian?”

Madeleine shrugged. “I don’t know, but she’s never shown any interest in men. Mummy said she was close to her father, which may have something to do with it. Most people take her for a teenage boy the first time they see her…she certainly sounds like one. Mummy said her hormones went awry when she took on the mantle of farmer.”

Her use of “Mummy” was getting on my nerves. I’ve never really trusted middle-aged women who choose that diminutive. It suggests their relationship with their mother has never developed beyond dependence, or they’re pretending a closer and sweeter affection than actually exists. “The only reason she showed up on my doorstep was because her dogs saw my car in the drive. She called them off when they surrounded me, otherwise we’d never have met.”

“How did they see your car?”

“Presumably she was exercising them along that stretch of road when I first arrived. Perhaps they saw me turn into the drive?”

“Is that what she told you?” She took my silence for assent. “Then she was lying. She breeds from those mastiffs, so she’s hardly likely to jeopardize them in traffic.” She propped her elbows on her knees. “All I’m saying, Marianne, is be a little wary. Even Peter thinks it’s strange that she happened to be passing that day.”

I gave a small nod which Madeleine could interpret how she chose. “You said it was worse when she feels rejected. What does she do then?”

“Prowls about your house in the middle of the night…stares through your windows…makes nuisance phone calls. You should talk to Mary Galbraith about it. She and her husband live in Hollyhock Cottage, and they had a terrible time after Mary made it clear she’d lost patience.” She held out her hands in supplication. “You must have asked yourself why people are so wary of Jess. Well, that’s why. Everyone starts with good intentions because they feel sorry for her, but they always end up wishing they hadn’t. Ask Mary if you don’t believe me.”

I did believe her. I’d already experienced a lot of what she’d described. “I’ll bear it in mind,” I promised, “and thank you for the information.” I reintroduced the subject of broadband. “I’m very conscious of how isolated I am here…particularly at night. I’d feel a lot happier with a more efficient telephone line.”

Madeleine agreed to it immediately, adding: “Jess’s solutions never last very long. She was always rigging things up for Mummy that failed a couple of days later. I remember her trying to make a television work in the bedroom, but the picture was never good enough.”

At least she tried, I thought, wondering what practical help Madeleine had ever given Lily. I took a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. “Do you?”

She looked as offended as if I’d offered her heroin. “Didn’t the agent make it clear this was a no-smoking tenancy?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said, popping a cigarette between my lips and flicking my lighter to the tip. “I think he was so desperate by the time I showed an interest that he’d have handed the keys to an axe murderer as long as the deposit was paid.” I rested my head against the back of the chair and blew smoke into the air. “If it’s a problem for you, I’m happy to vacate immediately in return for a full rebate. Your agent’s advertising a terraced house in Dorchester in his window that already has broadband.”

Her mouth turned down in irritation, as if my “broadbands” were having the same effect on her as her “Mummy’s” were having on me. “As long as you’re careful about putting your cigarettes out. This is a Grade Two-listed building,” she said rather pompously.

I assured her I was always careful. “You must have been worried every time your mother lit a fire,” I murmured, glancing towards the hearth, “particularly when her concentration started to go.”

Madeleine pulled a wry expression. “Not really…but only because I didn’t know how bad she was. She always seemed in such command when I came down…a little forgetful about small things, perhaps, but totally compos mentis about running the house. I’d have been worried sick if I’d realized she wasn’t coping. This house has been in my family for generations.”

I expect I should have let that go as well, but generations suggested aeons instead of the seventy-odd years of actual ownership. “Wasn’t it your great-grandfather who bought the property? I was told he was big in armaments during the First World War…and bought the whole valley in nineteen-thirty-five when he retired.”

“Did Jess tell you that?”

“I can’t remember now,” I lied. “Someone yesterday, I think. How did your family lose the valley?”

“Death duties,” she said. “Grandfather had to sell it off when his father died. He got virtually nothing for it, of course, but the developer who bought it made a fortune.”

“The one who built the houses at Peter’s end of the village?”

“Yes.” It was obviously a sore point with her. “That used to be our land until Haversham was given permission to build on it. Now his family owns one of the biggest building firms in Dorset while we’re left with an acre of garden.”