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The screech of the gate’s hinges set Martha’s nerves jangling. Once inside the graveyard, she became calmer as the warm breeze wafted the scent of flowers towards them. Sun filtered between the overhanging trees, creating a feeling of peace as it dappled the ancient gravestones.
The place appeared innocent and pleasant, but she was glad she wasn’t alone. Paul had insisted on accompanying her, and Ethel and Kirsty had followed. Archie Drysdale had also offered, but Constance had stopped him. Archie hadn’t looked pleased, but he’d complied with her request.
Doubts filled her mind. It had been six days since Amelia saw Victoria entering the Howff. It was unlikely she would be here. But thoughts of what had happened to Gladys intervened. If Victoria was still here, then something must have occurred to prevent her from leaving.
‘Which way?’ Ethel’s voice broke into her thoughts.
In front of them, several cobbled paths, bordered by flowering shrubs and bushes, wound in various directions. Martha had never been inside the graveyard before and didn’t know where the paths led.
‘Should we each take a different path?’ Kirsty had spoken little since she’d joined their company and her voice was hesitant.
‘That’s not a good idea. I think we should stick together. But if Victoria is here, it’s unlikely she would be in the part of the graveyard that borders on Barrack Street because she’d be visible from the road. I suggest we try the oldest part first. It’s overgrown and there’s more chance she’d remain hidden.’
Despite the warmth of the sun, a shiver crept up Martha’s spine. Paul was talking as if he expected to find a body.
‘I think you ladies should wait here while I investigate.’
‘No, we will come with you.’ Martha stiffened and took a step forward. No man was going to tell her what to do. She didn’t need their protection.
Ethel and Kirsty murmured their agreement.
‘As you wish.’ Paul looked discomfited. ‘We’ll start here.’
Within a few moments, the foliage became denser and the shadows deepened. Bushes grew around and over the gravestones, giving the impression of neglect and decay. The only sounds were those of the birds in the trees, ominous rustles deep in the undergrowth, and the hushed clack of their feet on the mossy path.
The cobbles convinced Martha that fashionable shoes suitable for a hotel tea party were not the best choice for a walk here. As if to confirm her thoughts, one of her heels caught in the cobblestones.
‘Do you want to turn back?’ Ethel took her arm.
Despite her misgivings and an increasing sense of dread, Martha shook her head.
‘I am all right. I snagged my heel and it threw me off balance.’ She smiled at the girls but couldn’t help noticing the worried look on Kirsty’s face and the bravado on Ethel’s. Maybe they were having second thoughts. ‘You two can go back if you wish.’
‘Where you go, we go.’ Ethel’s voice was stubborn, and Kirsty nodded her agreement. Paul had vanished out of sight around a turn in the path.
Silence hung over this part of the graveyard, and there was no birdsong. Martha suppressed an involuntary shiver and tried to gather her reserves of courage.
‘We’d best catch up with Paul. If there is anything to be found, we need to be there.’
The smell, like nothing Martha had encountered before, assaulted her nostrils as soon as she turned the corner. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and held it over her nose.
‘Stand back, ladies. You don’t want to see this.’ Paul stood between two bushes, staring at something in the undergrowth.
Martha took several steps forward. A loud buzzing broke the former silence in the graveyard.
‘What is that noise?’
‘Bluebottles.’ Paul looked at her. ‘Please stay back. If this is Victoria, you won’t want to see her like this.’
‘But how will we know whether it is Victoria unless I look at her?’ By this time, the stench was overpowering. Martha pressed the handkerchief even more firmly over her nose.
‘You still wouldn’t know, not seeing her like this.’
Paul backed out from between the bushes, clutching a handbag.
‘I found this beside the body.’ He brushed something white and wriggly from the surface before handing it to her. ‘It may contain identification.’
Martha’s stomach churned and bile rose in her throat, but she forced herself to open it and look inside.
‘Yes, this is Victoria’s handbag,’ she said after a moment.
Paul put his arm around her shoulder. She wanted to push it away, but didn’t. There was comfort in his grasp, and she was in sore need of it.
‘We must inform the police,’ he said.
* * *
‘THEY’VE FOUND HER.’ The two girls stood in a patch of sunlight at the bend in the path.
Ethel shaded her eyes with a hand and peered towards Paul and Martha. She’d identified the stench as soon as they reached the corner and held Kirsty back from going any further. It was the smell of death. She recalled the putrefying cat that had lain in the back green for weeks. It had stunk like that before someone took a shovel and threw it into one of the rubbish bins.
Her lips compressed as she watched Paul put his arm around Martha’s shoulders and lead her along the path. When they drew nearer, Martha’s shock was unmistakable. Her eyes sunk into the pallor of her face, glittering with unshed tears, and the white bone of her knuckles highlighted the strength needed to hold a leather handbag in her shaking hands. Ethel pulled her into an embrace, forcing Paul to step back.
‘Is it Victoria?’ Ethel addressed Paul, who nodded in reply.
‘What do we do now?’
‘Report it to the police.’
Ethel snorted.
‘They didn’t bother too much about Gladys. What makes you think the bobbies will pay any more attention to this? They’ll label it as good riddance and lose the file.’ In Ethel’s opinion, the bobbies were useless. She’d complained to them numerous times after her father had beaten lumps out of her mother.
‘It’s a domestic matter,’ they had always responded. ‘Nothing to do with us.’
As for suffragettes, they were only interested in harassing them and moving them on from rallies and meetings. Creating a disturbance, they called it.
‘They can’t ignore this death, nor can they overlook the fact that two suffragettes have died now – both in suspicious circumstances.’
‘You’re right, but that doesn’t mean they’ll do anything about it.’