Chapter 34

 

“You’re looking very well, Edith, dear. Come in, come in. I thought we’d talk to the girl in here,” Aunt Alicia led the way into her sun-room. She was dressed as usual, brightly, in her mix of colours and beads and a fringed cream shawl.

Edith’s spirits lifted at being told she looked well, though in fairness, Aunt Alicia had a tendency to the glass half-full view of life and she was one to see the best in people when at all possible. Esther Kirk had tested that but even then, she’d tried to ignore her doubts and it was only later that she’d really told Edith of her unease.

“Tell me again how this girl came to ask about the job,” Edith asked. It was all vague, nothing new when it came to her aunt. It was amazing to think of the responsible job she’d once held down, or maybe she was just becoming more absent-minded with age. Edith definitely didn’t want this whole thing to be more about the girl’s need for employment in the dale rather than her aunt’s needs. For a start, it was someone in the house all the time, night and day that was really needed. Help in the house wasn’t all that difficult to come by, for all that Aunt Alicia’s house was rather off the beaten track. Lots of women and girls had bicycles these days. Edith sometimes wondered if the popularity of the bicycle had done more for the cause of women in a practical way than almost anything else.

“Well, the young woman rang me up. I know the parents; good people, Chapel people. They’ve had more than their share of troubles. One of the boys hasn’t been quite right…” She lowered her voice over the last couple of words.

“Since the war, nerves, you know. Plods along most of the time helping his father with game-keeping duties and does casual farm-work but then, well I think he becomes quite peculiar…”

She broke off and Edith saw the expression on her face and knew what the awkwardness was about.

She put a hand on her aunt’s arm and said.

“Aunt Alicia, there’s no need to walk on eggshells around me you know, I can stand a mention of nervous trouble.”

Aunt Alicia’s face still looked troubled and she also looked frail, Edith thought.

At that moment, the doorbell rang and Edith went to answer it. The young woman who stood there was dressed in a navy blue suit that, to Edith’s eyes, had been made by herself but made with flair. There were details around the collar and cuffs which made Edith think the girl had been to one of the stylish dress shops and studied the fashion there.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming to the front door. I wasn’t sure…”

The girl’s tone was low and lacked the distinct dales accent and Edith felt that her time away from this place must have influenced her, both in her manner and her dress.

Aunt Alicia was fluttery and as if she wasn’t sure of the protocol on hiring domestic help which was ridiculous as she’d always been completely confident and sure of her place in the world. Seeing her in front of someone else like this, made Edith think she’d missed the signs that not all was well with her aunt.

“You must have heard that my aunt was looking for some help?” Edith said when it seemed as though her aunt wasn’t going to begin the interview.

“Yes, I heard that Miss Horton wasn’t suited, not completely, ever since…I heard about what happened with her previous companion.”

She blushed painfully, her angular face changing from a sallow look to bright pink.

Edith thought it hardly surprising that news of Esther Kirk had reached Vera and tried to rescue her.

“That’s all right. Perhaps you’d like to tell us where you’ve been working and how exactly you see things working out here, with my aunt.”

Edith glanced at Aunt Alicia, suddenly conscious of how much she was taking charge and how she might need to pull back and let her aunt lead the way.

But her aunt was looking at the young woman, studying her and Edith thought she looked content.

“Well, I’ve been working in London, Miss Horton,” as she said that she looked from one to the other, clearly trying to include both.

“I came back to Yorkshire, about six months ago.”

She shifted in the chair and Edith saw an unease cross her face. She hoped the girl wasn’t lying to them.

“I came back to be with my family. My brother hasn’t been the same since the war and I could tell by my mam’s letters that she was worried. Her and my dad, they’re getting on. Davy has always been a worry but…I’m not sure if it is that he’s getting worse or my parents are getting older but…” Her voice trailed off.

Aunt Alicia folded her hands in her lap and giving a quick glance at Edith began talking to the young woman.

“I fully understand, dear, that you felt the need to be near your family. But, how have you been living since you came back up here?”

“I had some savings,” Vera said.

She licked her lips, looked nervous and Edith was sure now that she wasn’t telling them everything.

“I think I realised that it wasn’t so much that mam and dad needed someone living in the house–Davy doesn’t need looking after in that way…I mean he can see to himself and all that. It’s more that they need someone close by.”

She looked directly at Aunt Alicia now.

But, it’s crowded or at least it seems that way to me now, I suppose I’ve got used to my own bit of space, like.”

Aunt Alicia looked at her, puzzled now.

“But, you mean you could live in?”

It almost broke Edith’s heart to hear the note of hope in her aunt’s voice. Evidently she had been putting a brave face on things and was a lot lonelier, than she admitted.

The girl’s voice was hesitant.

“Yes, please if that would be possible, like, Miss.”

“And you don’t have a young man?”

There was a heavy silence. Edith could hardly believe her aunt had just come out with the question, but she was shrewd as usual because it was clear that she’d hit on something.

“I did have. It was part of the reason I came back up ‘ere if I’m honest. But, now it’s over.”

She clamped her mouth tight shut at that and Edith was sure there was a story there.

Edith dared to probe a little more. “Mrs. Braithwaite…works for my brother and me. Well, her daughter, Cathy knows your sister, Elsie. Strange, I suppose that as you’ve come back to your home village as she has left it.”

Vera laughed, a forced kind of laugh.

“Yes, I suppose so, right enough, Miss. She went to London, wanted to see the bright lights.”

Again, a pause fell and Edith wondered whether or not to mention Daphne Sheridan and what happened. She needn’t have worried because Vera obviously knew about it though not much time had elapsed since the murder.

Edith told herself not to be so stupid. Something as sensational as that happening and so soon after the shooting of Giles Etherington would spread through this dale surroundings with shocking rapidity.

“I’m not sure what will happen now. Elsie probably won’t be wanted in London after what happened to the mistress, will she? But, I can’t see our Elsie wanting to come back here. I don’t reckon she’s seen anything like enough of London life, yet.”

“Why, what’s happened to her mistress?” Alicia asked and Edith cursed herself for a fool. The news hadn’t spread as far as her aunt’s house.

Vera Bishop looked from one to the other of them, her eyes panicked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

Edith stepped in.

“Aunt Alicia, the woman Elsie went to work for has died. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Aunt Alicia’s glance darted from one to the other of them, like a startled bird. All the more reason she shouldn’t be on her own at night, any more. She must be sure that this wasn’t swaying her though. They couldn’t afford to make another mistake with her aunt’s domestic help.

“Would it be possible for my aunt to contact your previous employers, Vera?”

Vera nodded, emphatically.

“Of course, I have the telephone number with me and I also have two letters from Mrs. Davenport; that’s my last employer and from the lady before, though to be honest I was more of a mother’s help there.”

“I like her and I think it would be the right choice to take her on, dear.”

Vera Bishop had scarcely gone through the door before Aunt Alicia’s pronouncement.

Edith smiled. Her gut instinct was that Vera would be a good choice. The girl had a secret heartbreak–that was obvious. Perhaps her return to Yorkshire was also in the hopes of marrying her sweetheart. It had gone wrong and the girl–woman really- was getting older, maybe panicking at having lost her last chance. Edith recognised that feeling. The thing was–it passed though if anyone had told her that several years ago, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“I suppose we should just check on the references but I agree, she does seem a sensible and pleasant person and the fact that she wants to live in as well is a bonus.”

“Do you really think that I might be suited this time, dear? I do so hope that she comes.”

Edith looked at her aunt, at the face so familiar, now looking slightly flushed at the thought of having company again.

Then, Edith told her aunt about what had happened to Daphne Sheridan, editing out the connection with Giles Etherington but emphasising that the woman’s death was connected with her personal life, which, she felt was pretty certain, however the police enquiries eventually went.

As she drove away she thought about the enormity of it all though. How vulnerable was her aunt, really living out here, with now, no-one else in the house? If you thought about it too much you would drive yourself mad with what might go wrong.

Then she saw Vera Bishop, now pushing her bike Surely, she must be worried about her good suit and the wheels of the bike and the chain and the possibility of grease and oil.

“I think it would fit into the boot, you know, Vera, if you’d like a lift?”

She’s given a light toot on her horn not to startle the girl too much when she pulled up alongside her.

Vera looked worried and distracted.

“Are you sure, Miss Horton? I don’t want to cause any mess in your nice car.”

Edith was sure and what’s more she really wanted the chance to talk to Vera on her own. All the time they’d been talking at her aunt’s house, she’d been trying to figure out a way of talking to Vera. This was her chance.

“So you finished with your young man?”

Edith winced at the bluntness of her question, but they’d talked about life in London and the state of farming in the dales and there seemed no way to ease into this topic.”

It was easier talking like this though in a motor car, side by side rather than face-to-face.

“I saw a side to him I didn’t like.”

Her voice shook and the hairs on the back of Edith’s neck stood up.

“I’ve known him for years. His name is Michael Ross. He was a friend of my brother, Davy’s they went off to France together and they came back together–Michael as right as rain, my brother…less so.”

Edith let a short silence elapse.

The young woman began to speak again.

“We were young when we met and he was very handsome. He still is very handsome, I suppose. But my mam says that handsome is as handsome does. I used to laugh at her sayings, but maybe there’s wisdom in some of them.”

There was something Edith was missing, something on the edge of her mind. She wouldn’t have this chance again and she couldn’t continue asking Vera questions about the failed romance without seeming prurient.

But, Vera said in a rush…

“He picked me up and dropped me and when I was in London I thought it was this great romance. It was a bit like at the flicks, Miss Horton, star-crossed lovers that sort of thing…”

Her words came at a breathless rush and Edith was doing some rapid reckoning in her head. How many years had this girl wasted on the man?

“There was one or other obstacle in the way of us getting married. His mother, she was difficult, very difficult, still is. I suppose I didn’t question it…but, you know Miss Horton…when it came down to it, I think is was nowt but a lot of excuses.

Her tone was one of amazement, at her own gullibility.

Edith had heard other stories here in the countryside about couples who had been courting for years–a decade or more sometimes but never tied the knot.

“Miss Horton, I’m so sorry. You won’t be wanting to hear all this lot. I can’t talk it over with anyone at home. They have no time at all for Michael…well apart from Davy that is. They all think I’m stupid and that I have wasted my life and Miss Horton, you know I think they’re probably right.”

Edith didn’t know what to say, aware of the pain when Vera realised that they had all been right, that this Michael had been stringing her along.

“He served with your brother in the war?”

“Yes, a bunch of them, not all came back of course–all from the dale, served under Mr. Etherington…”

Edith’s scalp prickled, an unpleasant sensation.

“They still meet up, the lads. Meet in some pub or other, have a game of dominoes in winter, sometimes cricket in summer, reminisce…”

Edith cleared her throat.

“Your brother goes too?”

“Yes, though my mother worries about that. Like, she wants him to have as normal a life as possible, but he comes home from these outings and me mam says he’s on edge and angry often as not.”

They were getting near to Vera’s parents’ house according to her directions and Edith was anxious about their reaching their destination. There was more she needed to ask the young woman and this was her golden chance.

“Your younger sister…Elsie, she must be a good bit younger than you?”

“Yes, mam and dad say she were a bit of an accident so was spoilt not only by them but also by the rest of us. Some might say she’s showing all the signs now, of being spoilt, like. Something went on between her and Michael, they both denied it, but I knew different.”

Edith wasn’t sure she’d heard right for a few seconds and her scalp was pricking again; she felt the pressure to keep Vera talking. She slowed her driving down, but nevertheless she was going to be stopping the car soon. Something of her agitation must have communicated itself to Vera because she said, “Come in for a cuppa tea if you like, Miss Horton.”

Edith’s heartbeat quickened; amazing how easy it had been. There was a connection between this house and Giles Etherington–and Daphne Sheridan.

The woman who came to the door of the kitchen looked worn. Stoicism and years of hard work told in the determined set of her chin and the lines that creased the still handsome face. She wore a dark dress and a crossover apron and her greying hair was caught back in a bun. She had the bone structure and the even features, to carry off such a severe look.

“Oh, Miss Horton, it’s right good of you to bring our Vera back,” she said after Vera had introduced them.

“I brought her in for a cup of tea, mam.”

“That’s right…come in, come in.” Edith recognised her as one of those bustling women who probably got more done before breakfast than others accomplished in a day.

The kitchen was not large and the ceiling was low. It was lovely though, Edith thought, touches of homeliness everywhere, in the geranium pots and the checked curtains and the knitted tea cosy.

“The parlour, mam…” Vera seemed anxious.

Edith said, quickly, “No, not at all, here is lovely; it’s fine, if that’s all right, Mrs. Bishop?”

“Sit you down. Stick th’kettle on th’hob, Davy.”

Edith started and hoped the slight movement of her shoulders hadn’t been obvious.

She hadn’t seen the man as her eyes hadn’t adjusted from the brightness outside.

Now, he got up slowly from a low-seated armchair in the corner. He was tall and ungainly and Edith noticed his limp as he walked across to the kitchen sink.

“This is Miss Horton, Davy,” his mother said, the tone of anxiety apparent in her voice.

He put the kettle on the hob and turned and nodded his head.

He was very handsome, more than that. . He was what some women referred to as being like a film star. He was tall and dark, though his hair was greying and his features were clean cut and even, like his mother’s.

There were a few awkward seconds and then Mrs. Bishop went to the cream painted wood dresser and took out willow-patterned cups and saucer. Edith thought they normally probably drank from thicker pottery cups and hoped she wasn’t causing this woman too much extra work or worry. She had more than enough to contend with.

The man sat back down again and she saw that he was sewing something with an enormous needle. It looked like a leather satchel.

Mrs. Bishop clearly saw the direction of Edith’s glance and with a little laugh said.

“That’s our Davey, Miss Horton, never happy unless he’s doing. Are you Davey?”

But there was no answer.

Mrs. Bishop put a cushion on one of the blue painted wooden chairs and gestured to Edith to sit down.

Edith did and wondered what on earth she was doing here. There was absolutely nothing wrong in coming into the house with Vera. She knew in the countryside one of the greatest pleasures in lives which could be restricted–as well as hardworking - was having a bit of company and she didn’t grudge spending a bit of time with Vera’s family. But, she knew she’d be angry with herself if she left without making some reference to the connection with the Sheridan’s –it was just that it seemed a very big leap.

“I know a friend of your daughter’s,” she began. Then, Davey, spoke making her heart leap into her throat. His not speaking had become the norm, so much so that his voice came as a shock.

“You were a nurse?” he stated.

“Yes, first at a rest station in France, near Boulogne. Maybe you even knew it?”

His voice had become more animated, too animated perhaps.

“Yes, of course I do, Miss. We was there in 1915. When were you nursing there? I was in the clearing station there myself. July just after Fromelles. Thought I’d got mesel a Blighty one, but no, soon back to it.”

Suddenly he got out of the chair and started walking about the room. He jerked at the back of his collar with his right arm that he held at an awkward angle.

“Settle you down, Davey. Miss Horton won’t want to be hearing all that, will she?”

“That Colonel Etherington, he were a hard man Miss–too hard and I know he ‘ad a job to do an’ that. But they were only lads, Miss…only lads.”

His words fell with a deadly resonance into the homely kitchen and Edith was in a nightmare. None of this made sense. If Giles had had such a bad impact on the lives of the men, or some of them, anyway, under his command, why was it now, after all these years that it was coming to a head?

But, now Mrs. Bishop was taking control. Her son had ignored her plea to be quiet, but she said now, in a slightly louder tone.

“Davey, we don’t want to hear any more of this now. Colonel Etherington is hardly cold in his grave and I believe Miss Horton is a friend of the family.”

“I am friends with his wife, Julia,” Edith said.

Davey smiled at the mention of Julia and he subsided. He sat back down in the chair and picked up his satchel and needle. Edith wondered if Mrs. Bishop could always quieten him. It must be a heavy burden indeed for the whole Bishop family.

“Your aunt, Miss Horton; I heard about the poor lady who used to be her companion. Well, to be honest the whole dale was talking about it; a tragic affair.”

She suddenly put her hand to her mouth and looked horrified.

“Goodness me, I must seem the most terrible gossip. We all have our burdens to bear.”

She didn’t need to glance across to where her son was sitting bent over his satchel.

“That’s all right, Mrs. Bishop. Well, my aunt has had a series of live-in help since then, as I was telling Vera.”

Vera had said little since introducing her. She’d helped her mother by bringing cake to the table and Edith noticed that she looked very frequently across at her brother. She seemed more anxious about him than their mother was but then, she’d been away and it probably all seemed more worrying to her now that she was back in the house.

“Has your aunt lived back here for long, Miss Horton?” Now, it actually was Vera who was speaking.

“She retired here about twelve years ago. She was a head teacher in a girl’s school down South, in Gloucestershire–an independent woman, ahead of her time, you might say.” As she spoke, Edith thought, not for the first time, how much this aunt had inspired her.

“But, the fact is that she’s getting older and staying alone at night isn’t really an option in the future. She’s not ready to give up her independence by coming to live with my brother and me. So, that’s the reason for wanting to employ a companion. I know she was impressed with you, Vera, and I hope it’ll work out happily for both of you.”

After that as soon as she could politely leave, Edith did. She needed to talk to Henry again. Could there be any possibility that Davey Bishop had been the person who’d shot Giles? There could, she decided; not Daphne though–that was a leap of the imagination too far. It would be an amazing coincidence that Daphne’s murder had nothing to do with what had happened to Giles, but Edith supposed, amazing coincidences do sometimes happen. She drove back to Ellbeck almost in a trance, unaware of the journey. The thing was that Giles had been an unpopular officer, at least he had been unpopular with some of his men, some of the time. It was just possible that now, all these years later, something had happened to reawaken old enmities.