Chapter 8

Stuart Elderkin parked his Humber Hawk near The Moot House on Aldeburgh’s sea front. This was where he’d arranged to meet Ann Fenner, the Pemberton’s housekeeper, after phoning her that morning. Luckily Wednesday afternoon was her half-day off, and as she was free for the rest of the day, she’d agreed to meet him. She was adamant she didn’t want to talk to him in Aldeburgh, so Elderkin suggested a drive to some other place.

‘Looks like she doesn’t want the Pembertons to know we’re meeting,’ he told Frank after supper the night before.

‘Interesting!’ Frank said.

‘Thought I’d take her to Southwold.’

‘Really? It’s a bit far, but if you can find anything that will help us, it’ll be worth it.’

‘Leave it to me, I know how to charm the ladies,’ he said.

Frank raised an eyebrow. I did once, he thought.

Stuart glanced at the car clock, two twenty, he was ten minutes early. Sudden rain lashed in from the North Sea, cold and flinty; the noise on the windscreen made him think it would turn to hail. He’d offered to pick her up outside the Pemberton’s house, but received a firm refusal. Had she told the Pembertons she was meeting him? Why didn’t she want anyone in Aldeburgh to see them together? All this secrecy suggested she must have something important to tell him. He hoped his deductions were right; the case needed something concrete; David’s drawings were suggestive of undercurrents of tensions and fear, but they weren’t evidence, and could be the imaginings of a gifted but over-active imagination.

There was a tap on his window. Ann Fenner, eyes squinting against the driving rain, umbrella flapping in the wind, stood beside the car. Stuart smiled and signalled towards the other side of the car. He leant over and opened the passenger door. No point in him getting drenched as well.

She stayed outside the car. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Elderkin, I’m going to make everything wet.’

He took the umbrella from her, shook it, and put it on the floor in the back. ‘No problem, Miss Fenner, drop of water won’t harm my old war horse.’ He hoped the leather seats wouldn’t stain; he’d have to give them a good polish.

He pointed to her plastic raincoat which was dripping water. ‘Would you like to take that off?’

She nodded. Elderkin placed it on the back floor with the umbrella, and as she slid into the passenger seat he noted she was wearing a black-and-tan checked coat, low-heeled black shoes and gloves. Smart but sensible. He’d chosen his clothes carefully: clean white shirt, maroon tie, grey suit and he’d brought his Dannimac and a trilby. Clothes to reassure and nothing that would frighten the birds. Not like Frank’s.

‘How about driving to Southwold? Or is that too far? There are some nice tea shops there. What do you think, or have you got another appointment?’

She turned to him with a broad smile. ‘Really? I’d love that. I like Southwold but I haven’t been there for ages.’

His chest expanded. It was good sitting next to a woman who wasn’t glaring at him, or disagreeing with his opinions. ‘Then off we go!’

Soon they were on the A12, heading north.

‘Do you drive, Miss Fenner?’

‘I’ve a licence, but no car, I’m afraid.’

‘Do you ever drive the Pemberton’s car?’

‘No. I’ve offered to do shopping, or to take David out before he disappeared, but Mr Pemberton prefers me not to drive their car.’

He left it there; he didn’t want to talk about David until he could see Ann Fenner’s face as she answered his questions. It was enjoyable driving with a placid woman by his side. Doreen, his late wife, had been a peaceful, sensible woman; always made him feel as though he was in charge, the head of the household, even if it wasn’t true. Doreen was a quiet manipulator, but her diplomacy meant she never challenged his ego, such as it was. Dear Doreen. Now Mabel was a different kettle of fish. More like an angry lobster at times. He felt a twinge of guilt. Should he be enjoying another woman’s company when he was engaged to Mabel?

He’d known Mabel for years, before she married and he’d always admired her. My, she’d been a good looker. A bit flighty, quick-tongued and with such definite opinions. He hadn’t been confident enough to ask her out, and before he knew it she was married to a local fisherman with his own boat. When her husband drowned at sea, a few years after Doreen died, he’d sent a card of condolence and attended the funeral. Some months later she’d stopped him in Aldeburgh’s High Street to thank him, and he’s taken her for a coffee.

When Susan Nicholson was murdered and Blackfriars School became the hub of the investigation he became closer to Mabel. She was still a handsome woman and an excellent school cook. He was tired of catering for himself and thought Mabel would fit the bill for Mrs Elderkin Mark 2. It wasn’t until she was attacked by Nicholson and nearly died he realised he loved her. He didn’t think, at his age, he would feel love again, but he had. When she’d accepted his proposal, and they’d joined Frank, Laurel and Dorothy in forming the detective agency, he felt his life had started again.

Why had Mabel changed? She’d started avoiding him, and sometimes said hurtful things. He knew Frank, Laurel and Dorothy were embarrassed by her behaviour. She was contrary, sometimes saying something nice, building up his hopes, then dashing them down again with a brusque reply. What could he do? If he had it out with her she might break off the engagement. Could he ask Frank to help him? But he wasn’t too hot on personal matters, afraid some woman would tie him down, make him buy a three-piece suit and cut off his long hair. What about Laurel? She was good at dealing with people. Perhaps if she could find out what was wrong with Mabel he’d try and put it right. It would be embarrassing: a fifty-five-year-old man asking a much younger woman to help him sort out his love life. He’d been sure Mabel loved him, but now? As Frank would say: Women.

The rain eased as they turned on to the A1095 for Southwold, the sky streaked with blue.

‘I think we’re going to be lucky, Mr Elderkin.’ Ann Fenner smiled at him and pointed out of the window.

Stuart decided he needed to abandon ruminations of his domestic troubles and concentrate on the case. Perhaps a bit of buttering up might help Ann Fenner open up about what went on in the Pemberton household.

‘Indeed, we are,’ he replied. ‘I’ll park near the lighthouse. Would you fancy a walk along the prom before we find somewhere to have tea?’

‘Could we? That’s really kind of you, Mr Elderkin. I do like Southwold: the pier, the beach huts and the lovely little shops. This is a real treat for me.’

Her words were heartfelt; he felt sorry for her, she mustn’t have much of a social life, he hoped she was well paid. He wondered if she’d ever been married and perhaps gone back to her maiden name after the marriage ended, by death, divorce or desertion. It wasn’t relevant to the case, was it? Mustn’t think like that, everything was relevant. Could a past husband or lover have kidnapped David, and Ann Fenner was involved? But there hadn’t been any ransom note. Supposing the boy had died accidentally after the kidnapping? Bit far-fetched but he mustn’t let a woman’s flattering words seduce him into sloppiness. It was Mabel’s fault: if she hadn’t been so shirty lately he wouldn’t be so easily swayed by the soft words of another woman.

They walked through the small Edwardian seaside town. Although the holiday season wouldn’t start until Easter, which was four or five weeks away, the streets were busy, with small queues at the bread shop and fishmongers.

He sniffed the air. ‘Ah, Adnams brewery is in business.’

Ann Fenner laughed. ‘You like your ale, do you, Mr Elderkin?’

She seemed to have shed ten years, her face relaxed and smiling.

‘I do like a pint or two, but not on duty, you understand. Lovely smell, malting hops, although some folk don’t like it.’

‘Mixes well with the sea air, adds a touch of gaiety to the place.’

As they walked down the narrow streets, stopping to look in several of the many antique shops, he realised people must take them for a couple, perhaps a married couple. He didn’t find the idea unattractive: she was a well-set up woman, easy to talk to, and she seemed to have an even temper. A reliable source of information? He hoped so. After a stroll up and down the front he found a quiet tea shop and ordered tea and buttered scones. He wondered if Ann Fenner was a good cook.

He let her drink the first cup of tea and eat a scone, then he took out his notepad and biro. ‘Would you mind if I made notes, Ann? Can I call you Ann? My name’s Stuart. Can’t trust my memory anymore.’ It wasn’t true, but he didn’t mind playing the old codger if he got the right result.

‘No, of course not, and I’d like you to call me Ann, but will you tell Mr and Mrs Pemberton what I say?’

Stuart poured hot water into the tea pot and gave it a stir. ‘No reason for that unless this case gets referred back to the police, and someone is accused of a crime.’

She sat back, her fingers holding tight to the edge of the table cloth. ‘What do you mean, a crime? David ran away. How can anything I say be relevant to a crime?’

Whoops. Not a good beginning. ‘Sorry, Ann. We’re not expecting to find a crime’s been committed, I was just theorising in answer to your question, putting the worse slant on the case. No need to worry about what you say being passed back to your employers.’ Had that smoothed the way?

She took a sip of tea, frowning and didn’t reply.

Oh heck. He was silent, then buttered a second scone. They weren’t as good as Mabel’s, bit dry.

Ann took a deep breath. ‘I want to talk to someone about David. I did talk to the police and the private detectives who took on the case, but …’ She looked at him, biting her lip.

‘You could have told them more?’

She nodded. ‘I’m not sure if what I’ve got to say is relevant. Also, Mrs Pemberton always insisted on being there when I was asked questions, and the police and the private detectives didn’t seem to think I’d have anything important to tell them.’

Stuart took out his pipe and matches. ‘Would you mind if I light up, Ann? Helps me to think.’

She relaxed. ‘No . Stuart. I love the smell of tobacco. My late husband smoked a pipe, although .’

Although what? A widow. ‘I tell you what, why don’t you tell me everything you want to tell me, and I’ll ask questions if I’m not sure what you mean. That’d be better than me giving you the third degree, wouldn’t it?’ He chuckled, tamping some rough-cut into his pipe and lighting up, leaning back in his chair as though ready to

hear a good story.

She smiled at him. ‘You’re very good at relaxing people, aren’t you? A woman feels safe in your company, Stuart.’

He wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted to hear. A touch of danger always spiced up any relationship. He nodded sagely and puffed on his pipe.

She took another sip of tea, then placed the cup firmly on the saucer. ‘I’ll start at the beginning, shall I?’

‘Always a good place to start.’

‘I came to the Pemberton’s six years ago. When my husband died I needed to get a job: for the money and to stop me going mad …’ She reddened.

Again the hesitation, as though she wanted to say more but was embarrassed or afraid. It was always useful to talk about matters not related to the case before you started in earnest. It helped you to learn the pattern of voice. ‘What did your husband die of? Was it an accident?’

She looked down, avoiding his eyes. ‘No, he died of lung cancer. It’s a death I wouldn’t wish on anyone.’

So that was why she was embarrassed, her husband had smoked a pipe. He clenched his teeth against the stem of his. If Mabel set the date for their marriage he’d seriously think of giving it up, but if she didn’t … a man had to have a few pleasures, even if they weren’t good for him. He smiled at her. ‘Tell me, what it was like when you first started your job at the Pembertons?’

She swallowed and nervously licked her lips. ‘I was lucky to get the position: I’d not worked for several years, but my last job was in a big hotel, I was in charge of the housekeeping: the laundry, bedlinen, dining-room linen, flowers, and supervising the chambermaids. My old manager was still around and gave me a good reference. I wanted to be with a family, we didn’t have children and I liked the idea of helping to look after a young boy. I didn’t realise how different David was to other children.’

‘Didn’t the Pembertons tell you about him when you went for an interview?’

Ann Fenner shook her head. ‘I saw him very briefly; I thought he was a lovely boy, but shy. I didn’t realise Mrs Pemberton didn’t want me to have much to do with David. My job was to run the house, cook meals and supervise the other people who work for them.’

‘They are?’

‘A cleaner comes in three times a week, a gardener, and a woman occasionally cooks when I have my time off. I have one-and-a-half days off a week. The whole day varies according to what entertaining the Pembertons are doing. Since David disappeared they haven’t had people round very often, so usually I get Sundays off.’

‘What are they like to work for?’

‘They pay well and they’re generous with the housekeeping, there’s no scrimping on the quality of the food, although Mr Pemberton checks the accounts thoroughly, as you’d expect he would.’ She pulled at her right cheek. ‘Even when David was here, it wasn’t a happy household. Perhaps it’s me, I’ve not been much fun since Bill died; I shouldn’t expect other people to cheer me up.’

‘Tell me about David. What was he like when you first went there?’

She smiled. ‘You’ve seen his photo?’ Stuart nodded.

‘Then you’ll know what a handsome chap he was … is. Whenever I met him in the house I’d say, ‘Hello, Master David.’ That’s how Mrs Pemberton wanted me to address him. I felt like the servant woman in David Copperfield. I realised he was different; he didn’t talk very much. Sometimes Mrs Pemberton would lose her temper with him and poor Mr Pemberton would look so upset. I never heard him shout at David.’

From the different tones of her voice: cold for Mrs Pemberton and warm for her husband, Stuart detected a difference in feeling to each of them. ‘Did David ever speak to you?’

‘Not at first. It started because of my cooking. Sorry to blow my own trumpet, but I’m a good cook and I introduced meals I thought would appeal to a young boy, especially extra nice puddings.’

Stuart wanted to ask what these were, and how good was her apple pie. He restrained himself. ‘What happened?’

‘I was in the kitchen looking through my cookery books to find a recipe for plums; the Victoria tree in the kitchen garden had produced a glut and I wanted something different to plums and custard.’

Stuart Elderkin thought of Doreen’s plum pie. ‘Plum pie’s nice,’ he ventured.

Anne laughed. ‘I’d found a recipe for plum and almond tart; I think the flavours of plum and almond are harmonious, and I was so absorbed reading the recipe I didn’t hear him come into the kitchen, until his hand, finger, pointing at the recipe, came into view.

‘“Are you going to make that?” he asked.

‘I jumped and my hand went to my throat. “Master David, you’ve given me a fright.” He giggled. I realised he must be able to read at least some of the recipe and he’d spoken a short, clear sentence. I decided not to comment and acted as though this was normal.’

‘Clever woman,’ Stuart commented.

Ann Fenner blushed and smiled. ‘“I don’t like you calling me, Master David, it’s silly,” he said.

‘“What do want me to call you?”

‘“Just David.”

‘I nodded and pointed to the book. “Do you think you’ll like this recipe? I noticed you left some of your plums and custard.”

‘He moved closer and studied the recipe closely, tracing each line with his finger. “What’s shortcrust pastry?”

‘I explained.

‘“I’d like you to make this. It sounds good.”

‘He could read, slowly, but he seemed to understand most of the words and he’d said more words in one minute than I’d heard in the five months I’d been there. I was so excited I wanted to rush out and tell his parents, but something stopped me. Why was he talking to me when he wouldn’t talk to his parents? How would they feel if I told them he’d freely talked, almost chattered, to me? Did David want me to tell them? Would he feel betrayed if I did? I didn’t know what to do.

‘“I shall make it tomorrow,” I said.

‘He smiled at me and I smiled back. It was so natural, a child looking forward to a nice pudding. I had difficulty holding the tears back.

‘“Can I come and see you again?”

‘My heart swelled with joy. “Any time, David and we can look at more recipes.”

‘“Thank you. I’ll come when they are out, or they’re busy and they think I’m in my room.”

‘The joy died. This wasn’t right and if they found out David was secretly visiting me I might lose my job, but I couldn’t tell him that.

‘“Is this a secret between us, David? You don’t want me to tell your parents you’ve been talking to me?” I was hoping he’d shake his head and say it didn’t matter.

‘Instead he beamed at me. “Yes, our secret. I like secrets. If you tell her she won’t let me come and see you. She doesn’t like anyone doing anything for me, she likes to do it all herself.” The tone of his voice showed he didn’t like that.

‘“Very well, come and see me when you can, you’ll always be welcome.” I knew it was wrong and dangerous, but I couldn’t betray him and I suppose I was flattered he’d trusted me. He smiled once more, turned away and went out of the kitchen without saying another word. I almost believed I dreamt the episode it was so weird hearing him talk in such a mature manner, and hearing the cold tone of his voice as he spoke about his mother. I must admit from that moment my feeling towards Mrs Pemberton changed and what I learned later made me dislike her more.’

Stuart blew out his cheeks. This was really interesting: a boy who could talk but chose not to and who seemed to dislike his mother. ‘What you’ve told me, Ann, is very helpful, it shows us another side to David’s character. I think we need another pot of tea, or …’ He looked at his watch. ‘The Crown will be open. Shall we go there, have a beer and perhaps some fish and chips?’

‘I thought you didn’t drink on duty?’

‘This isn’t a duty, it’s a pleasure, and I’d like to hear about David’s behaviour before he ran away and also you can tell me what Mrs Pemberton did to make you dislike her. What do you say?’ This was a profitable afternoon: new slants on David and hopefully some dirt on Mrs P, not to mention agreeable company, a pint and some good grub.

Ann Fenner looked torn. Did she think she’d said too much already?

‘Are you sure? Haven’t you got to get back to the office?’

‘Why go back when I’ve got good company, and the prospect of a pint of Adnams?’

She laughed and smiled up at him. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you were flirting with me, Stuart Elderkin.’

‘Perhaps I am. There’s no law against it, is there?’

‘Not yet, but they may make one soon.’

Stuart got up, paid at the till, and took their coats and his trilby from a hat stand. He passed her coat to her. He opened the café door and she preceded him, a girlish bounce to her step. Remember you’re a detective, he thought, and an engaged man.