They were just in time to avoid the rain. On their way back to the house, Eddie suggested that she should use the library as her ‘HQ’, as he described it. ‘It’s hardly ever used,’ he said. ‘I suppose people became accustomed to thinking of it as Grandfather’s room and so we all got into the way of using the drawing room and the morning room, but you will need somewhere private to conduct your interviews and make your notes, and the library would be just the ticket for that.’
By the time Fran had changed her shoes and collected her notebook, Eddie had already rung for coffee, which arrived on a silver tray, accompanied by delicious homemade biscuits, and he had settled himself in one of the easy chairs ‘so that you can interview me first’.
‘Don’t mind if I dunk, do you?’ he asked, a biscuit poised above his china coffee cup.
‘Not in the least,’ said Fran, who had been brought up to believe that it was extremely vulgar but was melted by Eddie’s cheerful familiarity.
‘Jolly good, then.’ As he dipped the bottom curve of his biscuit into his coffee, he said cheerfully, ‘Let the interrogation begin.’
‘I think it would be helpful if I could get a firm idea of your extended family … various aunts and uncles and cousins have been mentioned and I’m not at all clear where they fit in.’
‘Fair enough. We don’t need to worry about Mother’s side. Her brother is Lord Curnow. He lives in Italy with a mistress. His first wife was an American and when they parted she took the children back over there, so we never see the cousins on that side from one year’s end to the next.’
‘Does your mother have any other siblings?’
‘None. Poor dear Mother only has us – although she probably thinks that’s quite enough family to worry about, one way or another.’
‘So how about your father’s side?’
‘Much more numerous. Grandfather came back from Africa around 1870 and was married a few years later. Father was his oldest child, then came Lettie, Charles, Catriona and lastly Sybil. His wife – my grandmother – died when she was fairly young and he never married again. As his children grew up and started families of their own, Grandfather got into the habit of renting a house by the seaside – usually in Devonshire – so that he could have them all to stay for the summer and eventually he had this place built, so they could come here.
‘All his children married rather well. Grandfather was a nobody, but the gentry were inclined to overlook that on account of his money. Mother’s family can trace their roots back to Edward IV … or is it Edward III? I never can remember, and anyway it doesn’t matter a fig. It’s the same with Mellie. Her family think that they are fearfully grand, but they also happen to be frightfully impoverished. Our aunt Catriona’s husband claims some distant kinship with King George, I believe. Personally I don’t give a damn about any of it. Marry for love, I say, and never mind money or social ambition.’
Fran smiled. ‘Hear, hear,’ she said. ‘So you were saying that as well as your father there were four younger brothers and sisters in that generation?’
‘That’s right. Father married Mother and had the three of us. Aunt Lettie married Maurice Dereham and they had four children, Susanna, George, Helena and Cecilia. Susie and George are around the same ages as us and we’ve been spending our summers together for years and years.’
‘And were these people staying here when your grandfather died?’
‘Not all of them. Susie is married now and George only came down for a few days in early summer that year, but Helly and Ceccie – that is Helena and Cecilia – were still here when Grandfather died. Uncle Maurice had taken Aunt Lettie on a sea voyage in the latter part of the school holidays – she hadn’t been too well, so the quacks had recommended it – and George had gone off to stay with some friend of his in Norfolk while his younger sisters stayed on with us.’
‘So …’ Fran made a note. ‘Helena and Cecilia Dereham were here. How old are they?’
‘Helly has just turned seventeen. Ceccie is fourteen so not too much older than Imogen.’
‘Imogen was here, of course?’
‘Imogen is always here. She has lived with Grandfather and the rest of us since her mother, Aunt Sybil, died.’
‘How about your uncle Charles and aunt Catriona?’
‘Uncle Charles was here with his new wife, Dolly. She’s a rather common sort of woman and none of us likes her very much,’ said Eddie, clearly forgetting the noble sentiments he had expressed a moment or two earlier about marrying solely for love.
‘With their children?’
‘They don’t have any. As for Aunt Catriona, she had been here with her family earlier in the summer, but by the time Grandfather died they had all decamped up to Northumberland to stay with her in-laws.’
‘So the only people actually staying at the house were the usual family – that’s your mother, Roland, Mellie, Henrietta, yourself and Imogen, plus your uncle Charles and his wife and your two teenage cousins, Helena and Cecilia.’
‘Spot on.’
‘But you mentioned some other visitors – people who had come just for the day?’
‘That’s right. Rhona and Frank had walked over from Baddeley Court. It’s only about a mile across the fields and they often pop across if they fancy a dip on a hot day. Rhona is the same age as Cecilia and Frank is a couple of years younger, so when Aunt Catriona’s gang are here, they just add to the merry throng. They’re all nice kids and they generally get along fine together.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Just two of the Trenchard sisters, Mabel and Victoria. They had telephoned that morning, to see if anyone would be playing tennis. They have their own court at home of course, but it’s not so much fun with only the two of them.’
‘Are they also children?’ asked Fran, who half remembered the name Mabel Trenchard from a conversation over breakfast.
‘Oh no. Mabel is twenty-one next month and Victoria is a year younger, I think.’
‘Anyone else?’
Eddie considered for a moment. ‘No … I’m pretty sure that’s everyone. Well, except for the servants, of course.’
‘I’m going to need a list of their names too.’
‘Of course.’ Eddie began his recitation at once, staring with Jamieson the butler, Imogen’s governess, Miss Billington, Monica Roche, who had been employed as his grandfather’s nurse, working his way through the ranks of indoor staff in order of precedence, before turning his attention to the outdoor staff, staring with Marshall, the head gardener and ending with Max and Joe, the apprentices.
Fran was quite taken aback at the sheer number of people who apparently needed to be employed in order to take proper care of Sunnyside House and its half-dozen occupants. Goodness, she would probably have to talk to all of them. It was going to take ages. For now, though, she needed to focus on the principal players, starting with Eddie.
‘Can you tell me what you remember about the day that your grandfather died? Starting right at the beginning, before it became clear that there was something wrong?’
Again Eddie adopted a look of intense concentration as he marshalled his thoughts. ‘It’s rather difficult,’ he said at last. ‘To begin with it was just another ordinary day. We’d been enjoying a splendid run of good weather, so one day tended to be pretty much like another, though of course in another way, no two days were exactly alike.’
Fran waited patiently, confident that an explanation would be forthcoming.
‘When the weather is good we often have our lunch out of doors. That sort of thing is usually decided upon at breakfast, so that Jamiseon and Cook know well in advance what’s wanted. Sometimes we would have picnic hampers brought down to the beach, or else taken somewhere in the grounds. Some days there would be visitors, either unexpected callers who stayed for lunch or tea, or people we’d invited to spend the day. Some days someone would get up a treasure hunt, or the kids would play hide-and-seek or Hare and Hounds. Other times people would just drift through the day, reading and sunbathing, swimming or looking for crabs in the rock pools at low tide. Most days someone would suggest a game of tennis. Hen is really keen and actually rather good, and our cousin, Helly, is another sporty girl, so they were always up for a few sets.’
‘So on this particular day,’ Fran said, ‘can you remember where it was decided that you would eat lunch, for example?’
‘Oh, yes. Mother and Uncle Charles preferred to eat up here at the house, so naturally Uncle Charles’ wife, Dolly, came up here for luncheon too. Grandfather’s was laid on a tray and taken into his room. The rest of us had a picnic down on the beach. I can’t recall exactly what we ate, but I seem to remember that there was some salad, because Cecilia’s tomato rolled off her plate on to the sand and that made everyone laugh. Of course, then Imogen got a bit silly and rolled her tomato on to the sand deliberately and Miss Billington had to tell her to calm down. I’m afraid she gets rather overexcited at times and it gets her into trouble.’
‘Had the Baddeleys and the Trenchards arrived by lunchtime?’
‘Mabel and Victoria Trenchard were definitely here by then. I’m not sure about young Rhona and Frank. I’m afraid it’s terribly difficult to recall every detail.’
‘You’re doing very well,’ Fran assured him. ‘I want to concentrate on lunchtime, because we know that your grandfather was still in his room at that point. I think you said that he was in there, asleep, at around two p.m. when Jamieson came to collect his tray. Where would everyone else have been by then?’
‘I can’t speak for Mother, because I didn’t see her again until we all went back up to the house much later, though I believe she went to lie down after lunch. By two o’clock most of us would still have been hogging down on the beach. Uncle Charles and Aunt Dolly came back down there after they’d eaten and we were all still sitting about. I don’t think we even started unpacking the hampers until well after one that day.’
‘So everyone else was eating together, down on the beach – even the people who’d been playing tennis?’
‘That’s right. I think they may have been the reason for the delay. We were waiting for them to come and join us.’
‘And after lunch was finished, what did people do then?’
‘Oh, various things. Hen changed into her bathers and went for a swim. So did Roly, I think. Imogen, Cecilia and some of the others started to play cricket. It was low tide around three o’clock that day so there was plenty of flat sand. Mellie was lying under her parasol – she doesn’t like to get burned – pretending to read but probably just dozing. Anything to get out of ball games.’
‘And what were you doing?’
‘Me? Actually, I think I helped dear old Billie collect everything up and put it back into the hampers. Poor Miss Billington, she often gets lumbered with that kind of thing. Then I sat on one of the rugs and after a minute or two Mabel Trenchard came over and sat next to me and we chatted for a bit. It was just local gossip, you know, nothing at all significant. Then I went to play cricket with the kids for a while and after that I cooled off in the sea. Later a group of us went up for tennis – first to six games and the winners stay on, that kind of thing.’
‘And from there?’
‘We played until about five. In summer, tea is always laid out on the terrace from about half past four – or in the drawing room of course, if it’s raining – and Roly was complaining that he would die if he didn’t have something to drink soon, so we strolled up through the garden together. Mother and Uncle Charles were already there, and it wasn’t too long before the people who’d stayed on the beach started to appear. By the time Grandfather was missed, I’m pretty sure that everyone was back up at the house.’
‘Who played tennis and who stayed on the beach?’
Eddie looked thoughtful. ‘I must get this right, mustn’t I, because I suppose it’s all a question of who could have slipped away on their own? Initially only four of us walked up to the courts. Helly, Mabel and Victoria were already in their tennis kit and I had slipped back into a pair of shorts so we were ready to set off, but Hen had to change out of her wet bathing dress. It’s much more complicated for girls, isn’t it? Anyway, she said she would catch us up and so did Roly. I think that he was probably still hoping to persuade Mellie to play. Dolly said that she was going to come and join us, but she didn’t come right away either.’
‘What about your uncle Charles? You said he got back to the house ahead of you.’
‘He’d already gone off for a walk by the time we went to play tennis.’
‘A walk? On his own?’
‘Yes. He said that sitting about wasn’t good for his digestion.’
Fran made a swift note on her pad.
‘The four of us got to the court and started to play. I don’t think we’d played much more than a couple of games by the time Hen and Roly joined us. Dolly arrived last. Dolly was a bit odd, actually.’ He hesitated.
‘In what way?’
‘Well, Dolly is a pretty hopeless player. Serves underarm and mostly just flails at the ball. It’s very much hit and hope for the best. I partnered her because I know she gets on Hen’s nerves dreadfully. Usually she just bumbles along and laughs at herself and gets the score all wrong, but that afternoon, not long after she’d joined us, she missed a ball and when she went over to pick it up, instead of tossing it back to me so that I could serve again, she thrashed the ball away into the bushes. Then, when she turned to face me, she was quite red in the face and I thought she was about to cry.’
‘I suppose it can get very frustrating, playing with a lot of people who are better than you.’
‘The thing is I don’t believe it was anything to do with the game at all. Dolly doesn’t care a fig about the game or how bad she is. She’s not competitive like Hen. It’s just a way of passing the time to her. I’m sure it was something else. To tell the truth, I wondered if she and Uncle Charles had had a row.’
‘And have you any idea whether they had?’
‘Well, nothing happened on the beach so far as I’m aware, but it did seem a bit funny, him going off like that for a walk on his own and later on, that evening, things seemed to be a bit frosty between them.’
‘In what way?’
‘There was nothing specific. It was just a feeling I had.’
‘So … if I’ve got this right, the people who stayed on the beach right up until teatime were Mellie, Imogen, Miss Billington, Cecilia and the two Baddeley children.’
‘That sounds about right.’
‘Did the Baddeley children stay for tea?’
‘No, they must have walked home. The footpath leading back to their place goes up through the western coppice, so they don’t need to come past the house.’
‘So everyone had their tea …’ Fran prompted.
‘Some people were lingering outside. It was still gloriously warm and no one was in a rush because we never dress for dinner in high summer if it’s only family. I remember someone asking if it wasn’t time for cocktails and Hen saying that it was never too early, and just then Grandfather’s nurse appeared and of course that put paid to any talk of cocktails for the rest of the evening.’
‘This nurse, Monica Roche. You say that it was her afternoon off?’
‘That’s right. She went off-duty at one. She was asked about all that at the inquest of course. Apparently Grandfather was eating his lunch when she left. He’d been grumbling a bit, she said, but he did sometimes complain – mostly about trivial things – particularly towards the end. Apart from the grumbling – which wasn’t really out of the ordinary – he was just as usual.’
‘Do we know where the nurse went, or how she spent her afternoon?’
‘We do. As I mentioned before, we’re a bit out of the way here, and when she first came to us, sometimes Monica didn’t go anywhere on her half day. She would just have a stroll around the grounds or take her book into a quiet part of the garden. But I gather that when she was down in Frencombe on one occasion she bumped into the Baddeleys’ chauffeur, Moncrieff, and they seem to have become friendly and got into the habit of spending some of their afternoons off together. Moncrieff’s a thoroughly reliable sort – he’d been with the Baddeleys for years and years. In fact, I believe that he’d been working for them for a long time before we came here. He’s retired now, but I understand they’re letting him have a cottage on the estate. Hen seemed to be under the impression that there might have been some sort of romance in the air between him and Monica, but if there ever was – which I doubt – then nothing came of it. Anyway, the point is that this chap, Moncrieff, was sometimes allowed the use of Colonel Baddeley’s motor, and on this particular afternoon he’d picked Monica up and taken her for a spin along the coast road. Afterwards they had tea at the Palace Hotel in Torquay. It was all above board. He had the colonel’s permission to use the car and I believe the police confirmed that they’d been seen by the staff at the Palace. It’s quite a pricey sort of place for a chauffeur to take a lady friend, which is probably why Hen dreamed up a possible love affair. I never saw Monica as the romantic type myself – she was a confirmed spinster, in my opinion – so I think it was probably just that they fancied a bit of a treat and decided to splash out. Anyway, Moncrieff dropped her back here at just before six p.m.’
‘And I suppose she must have gone to her room, removed her hat, probably changed her shoes and come straight back downstairs?’
‘And found the old man gone.’