“There we are, then,” Will said. “Don’t eat them all at once!”
Shall if I like, Ivy muttered childishly to herself as she left the shop. She walked a few paces and then saw the town bus on its return journey coming towards her. Perhaps she would just hover and watch out for Beattie Beatty returning. The bus stopped, but as it moved on again, Ivy could see that Miss Beatty was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, she turned and continued on her way back to Springfields.
“Ivy,” said a soft voice behind her. Deirdre’s car had driven up so quietly that she hadn’t heard it. “Jump in,” her cousin said.
Ivy was about to say that her jumping days were over, when she saw that Deirdre’s face was pale and drawn, not at all what it should have been on returning from a visit to her admirer at the Hall. She clambered into the car, and they coasted on towards Springfields.
They settled safely in Ivy’s room with a tray of tea, which, on seeing Deirdre’s shaky progression up the stairs, Katya had prepared as quickly as she could. Then, in fits and starts, Deirdre gave a detailed account of all that had happened and Ivy sat silently thinking.
Deirdre wondered if she’d gone on too long, and exhausted Ivy. The poor old thing had been a bit middling herself. So she concluded her story by saying, “I suppose it might have been an infection, or something I ate yesterday. Gus seemed to think so.”
Still Ivy said nothing, then sighed. “More like poison,” she said.
“Unlikely, Gus seemed to think. What do you reckon, Ivy?”
“Could be poison. Rat poison, probably. They always have it around somewhere on farms. Young Budd could have trampled it in after setting traps. Just unlucky, maybe.”
Deirdre did not believe it. She had reached the firm conclusion that Beattie was mad, and had tried to poison her with doctored biscuits. Or, at the very least, had meant to make Deirdre so ill that she would never set foot in the Hall again. But she supposed that she should not frighten Ivy, and nodded in silent agreement.
There was a knock, and Ivy said, “That’ll be Roy. I said I’d be back around now, and he always pops in for a cuppa.”
Does he, indeed! thought Deirdre. Romance among the oldies? It had been known to happen. Marriage even. She remembered reading recently in the local about a couple in their nineties who’d got wed. The picture showed them beaming out at the photographer, and she had thought, well, why not, even if it means only a couple of years’ companionship and happiness.
Another cup was brought up by the ever-willing Katya, and Ivy debated whether to go over Deirdre’s horrible afternoon again. She decided not, not yet, anyway.
The conversation turned to other things. Roy said he had had a visit, the first in three years. A young great-nephew who was driving through on his way to London had called in. “He asked tenderly after my health, when I know he’d rather have been asking tenderly after my bank balance.” Roy chuckled. “But it was nice to see a young face. Our Katya was very attentive, dear little thing,” he added with a smile.
Then he asked if Deirdre had had a nice afternoon up at the Hall, so the story had to be told once more, this time in an edited version. Roy was horrified, and said the sooner this whole business was cleared up the better.
GUS LOOKED OUT of his kitchen window and wondered if Deirdre had arrived safely back at Tawny Wings. He had tried hard to persuade her to stay, but she had insisted that she would be fine, and had to get back home. He had even settled Whippy on her lap, remembering that stroking a dog was supposed to comfort people and might encourage her to stay. But she had put Whippy down on the floor, saying she would be fine, and went off, wobbling slightly, to get into the car and disappear down Hangman’s Lane.
The episode had shaken him considerably. Although he had not said as much to Deirdre, he knew now that they were up against something very nasty. Once more he thought of contacting the police, but after thinking about it for some time, he decided that this could precipitate more than a violent attack of sickness. If Beattie really did intend to get rid of her rival, a visit from the police might prompt her to panic and have another immediate go at Deirdre, and next time making sure of success. But if he did not tell the police, he was certain now that they had to move fast. They were close. He was pretty sure of that. The Bentalls and the Jessops were linked in a way they now understood, and the root of it all was back in another generation. If they could find out who had first made Beattie’s mother pregnant and caused so much unhappiness, then the rest would fall into place.
He remembered suddenly with some excitement that Ivy and Roy had had that invitation to tea with Mrs. Bentall. That was it, he decided, and picked up the phone. He would cheer up Deirdre by telling her this, and then think of a way of discovering the connection between the Roussels and Beattie Beatty. He was sure now that she did not turn up at the Hall all those years ago out of the blue. There must have been a reason which had been kept quiet.
No answer from Tawny Wings. Gus frowned. Deirdre should be home by now, surely? Perhaps she had called at the shop. Yes, that would be it. He would ring again in half an hour or so.
As he watched, Miriam emerged into her garden next door, and walked up the path to her salad bed. She bent down, pulled up a lettuce, and turned. She was too quick for him to back away, so he waved. She returned his wave enthusiastically and mimicked opening the window. “Come in and have supper with me this evening,” she shouted. “I’m having ham and salad. Got some nice rhubarb to make a fool,” she added.
It’s me that’s the fool, he thought, but was so tempted by the idea of a good supper, that he yelled back that he would be delighted. Oh God, he thought, as he watched her skip girlishly back into her house. Why on earth did I ever decide on this village? Because it seemed quiet and remote, people getting on with their own lives and allowing you privacy if you wanted it. Ha! That was a joke.
Forty-eight
BEATTIE RETURNED FROM tea with Miriam to a silent Hall. Theo’s car had gone, and she did not need two guesses to decide where it might be. Not too far away, and at a house with a stupid name!
She noticed that the light was fading outside in the stable yard, and thought with a sinking heart of lonely hours spent in the kitchen, when buried memories would return to haunt her.
She picked up the telephone, and dialled a number that she knew by heart. “Hello? Okay to talk? Right, well, here’s the latest.” She then relayed what had happened this afternoon, adding that she thought this was one battle she had won. “What?… Oh, some stuff I had lying around… No, probably not. We shall see… When? Oh, in due course. What about you?… Well, make it a better job next attempt. Miriam Blake thinks he’s a mystery man, but then, all men are a bit of a mystery to Miriam. Yes, you were right! I have a feeling time is running short. Yes… what?… Oh, yes, but take care. Bye.”
She replaced the receiver and began to prepare supper. Not that she expected Theo to be home for supper, but on the chance that he might be, she took a pheasant from the marble shelf in the larder and began to wrap it in bacon and herbs. She thought about her telephone call, and wondered if they hadn’t perhaps got themselves in too deep.