Nicola Upson - An Expert in Murder

‘Thank you for coming here so quickly, Mrs Simmons,’ Penrose said, ‘but I’m truly sorry for the circumstances that have brought you.’

‘Everybody’s been very kind,’ she said, so quietly that Penrose could barely hear her. ‘At the . . . the people who are looking after Elspeth couldn’t have been more thoughtful, and Betty said you were all working so hard to find out what happened. I am grateful, you know. Really I am.’

She looked at Penrose for the first time, and it seemed to him that fate had played a cruel trick in deciding that Alice Simmons would share no characteristic, no matter how small, with the daughter she so dearly loved. Her colouring, build and general demeanour were all distinctly at odds with the Elspeth he had seen 219

in Hedley’s photograph, and he wondered if the physical disparity had been a painful reminder to both mother and daughter that their relationship was built on a fragile practical arrangement rather than an unassailable natural bond. ‘We’re doing our best, Mrs Simmons,’ he said, and introduced Fallowfield, who took the empty cup from the table and sent the constable at the door off for a refill. ‘But I have to admit, we could do with a little help and we’re hoping you’ll be able to supply it.’

‘Of course you need help. How can you be expected to get anywhere when you only know half the story?’ She took a handkerchief from her bag, a safeguard against what was to come. ‘They let me sit with Elspeth for a bit, just the two of us,’ she continued.

‘I had to tell her I was sorry. She grew up surrounded by so much misery and the only consolation was that she never knew about it

– we always managed to keep it at bay. Now this has happened, and she’s paid the price after all for something that was never her fault. At a time like this you’re supposed to say you can’t believe it, aren’t you? But that’s not true for me. I hoped Walter’s death would be the end of it, but I think deep down I always knew there’d be worse to come. That’s why I’m here now – to stop it going any further.’

‘Do you know who killed Elspeth, Mrs Simmons?’ Penrose asked gently, hardly daring to believe that the answer could simply have walked through the door. He glanced at Fallowfield, and saw that he was also finding it hard to control his excitement.

‘No, but I can try and explain why it happened. Betty told you that Walter and I couldn’t have any children of our own?’ Penrose nodded. ‘We tried and tried before the war, but it didn’t happen and it was ruining our marriage. I couldn’t think about anything else except having a baby. All the joy I’d felt in just being with Walter, in knowing how much he loved me, disappeared and I couldn’t get it back. Every time I looked at him, all I could see was our failure. It tore him apart inside. There was no pleasure in sex any more. We’d always been really close in that way – he was so tender and loving – but it stopped being an intimate connection between the two of us and became something set apart from our 220

relationship, if you know what I mean. He stopped talking to me, too. I don’t think he had any idea what to say, so we ended up in this no man’s land; we couldn’t turn ourselves into a family, and we couldn’t go back to being happy as a couple. I hope you don’t mind my telling you all this, but it’s important.’

‘Of course not,’ said Penrose, who was genuinely happy to let her talk. Selfishly, though, he hoped that what had brought her to him was something more than a confession for one side of a bad marriage, and was pleased when Fallowfield gently moved things along.

‘So did you suggest adoption to your husband, Mrs Simmons?’

‘No, Sergeant, nothing as sensible as that, I’m afraid.’ She hesitated. ‘I suppose it’s ridiculous of me to be ashamed of what I did suggest when so much else came later, but I am ashamed. It was so thoughtless, particularly as we didn’t know whose fault it was that we couldn’t conceive, but I asked Frank if he’d father a child for us. He agreed, but only if Walter and Betty knew about it and were happy with the arrangement. I must have been out of my mind –

Walter’s own brother! No man could stomach that. He was so angry when I told him. I’d never seen that side of him before –

well, I’m not sure it existed until I drove him to it. I don’t think Frank ever got round to telling Betty – there was no need, because Walter would never have agreed. Shortly after that, war broke out and Walter couldn’t sign up quick enough. Anything rather than stay with me and face that betrayal.’

That explained why Alice never came to London, Penrose thought, and he wondered if Frank Simmons had ever regretted his honesty. Was his interest in Elspeth a way of making up for that missed opportunity to be a father? And what on earth had he been thinking while they sat there yesterday discussing Walter and Alice’s marriage? ‘Frank told us that Walter arranged Elspeth’s adoption with someone in the army,’ he said. ‘Do you know who Elspeth’s real parents are?’

‘Yes, at least I know who her father was. I didn’t at the time, though – I was so grateful just to have Elspeth that I didn’t dare question anything about how I got her. All I knew then was that 221

there was no one to bring her up. She was only a month old when Walter brought her home to me, and the prettiest little thing you could imagine – so good-natured, even at that age. We called her Elspeth – it was Walter’s mother’s name and I wanted him to have a connection with her as strong as the one I felt. After that, I never looked back. It was only last year, when Walter realised he was dying, that he told me everything he knew.’

‘Was her father’s name Arthur?’

Alice looked astonished. ‘So you know? Yes. He was an engineer in the war. How did you find out?’

‘Elspeth’s death is connected to another murder which happened shortly afterwards.’ Penrose was about to explain further, but Alice interrupted him.

‘Is Bernard Aubrey dead?’ Now it was the Inspector’s turn to look surprised. ‘If there’s been another killing, it had to be him.

Apart from me – and whoever’s doing this, obviously – he’s the only other person left alive who knew what really happened.

Arthur was his nephew. Bernard kept in touch with Walter after the war. He sent us money to help with Elspeth – on her birthday, every year without fail.’

‘With a note, asking you to let him know if you changed your mind about the adoption?’

‘Oh no. I mean, he did send a note but it wasn’t about the adoption. He knew we’d never change our mind about that and he was satisfied that Elspeth was well cared for. No, he wanted Walter’s help and Walter wouldn’t give it to him – that’s what Aubrey wanted him to change his mind about. You see, Inspector, Walter did something terrible to get Elspeth, something he never forgave himself for. He confessed to me, just before he died and it explains everything – why he changed so much, why his love for Elspeth always had a sense of regret about it. I don’t think she knew – I hope to God she didn’t – but Walter was capable of a much more generous love than he ever showed to her. I know everyone was affected by the war – how could they not be? – and if I’m being honest, it was easy for me to put his behaviour down to that because I couldn’t be expected to make it better for him. But there 222

was a much deeper grief. I wish more than anything that he’d told me earlier, because as soon as he did the old Walter came back. I’m making it sound like a sudden confession and it wasn’t that – he told me everything gradually, a bit more each day; you could tell it was a terrible strain for him, but it gave me long enough before he died to remember how much I loved him and I’m grateful for that, even though it made his loss so much harder.’