Anthem for Doomed Youth (12 page)

The next letter Alec looked at was from an elderly
gentleman who had been a lieutenant under then Captain Pelham in the Zulu war of 1879. He also had the pleasure of the acquaintance of Sir Daniel Halliday. He was not aware of any relationship – other than through himself – between the two families. However, if the police desired to speak to him, they could find him at his club, address above, where he resided.

Possibly interesting
, Alec thought,
but hardly urgent
. Everett Davis-Slocumbe, Esq., could wait.

The last of the papers Ernie had thrust into his hands was a Yard memo slip reporting a telephone call from the police in H Division – Stepney. A man had come into the station who claimed to know someone who knew who had committed the Epping Forest murders. He had refused to stay or to give his name, but said he would return on Sunday at noon. If the chief inspector he’d read about in the papers was there, he would pass on the information; if not, not.

Noon! Alec had planned a gathering at the Yard at half past ten. The man could be making up the story to get someone else into trouble, or he could just be a crank. He might or might not turn up. The message gave no indication as to whether the Stepney police considered him a credible witness.

The stroke of luck they needed, or a complete waste of time? Descending the steps as the bus pulled up at his stop, Alec decided to ring the Stepney inspector from the Southwark station.

Much of Southwark, though a more salubrious area than Stepney, was a grimy district of narrow streets, tenements, and long rows of terrace houses opening directly onto the pavement. Neither inspired much confidence in any effort
of an inhabitant to aid the police. But Alec still had that lurking sense that the murderer was not to be sought in the same class as the victims.

He went into the police station. The sergeant at the desk told him he’d be better off not taking a uniformed constable with him to the address he was bound for.

‘Give the neighbours something to talk about!’ he said with a grin. ‘This bloke you’re going to see, he and his missus wouldn’t live it down for a month of Sundays, and he’d know it. Might be enough to make him keep his mouth shut. That street, they scrub their doorsteps every day and polish the aspidistra. It’s not somewhere they’re used to seeing us haul off a villain or two every couple of days.’

Alec thanked him and requested the use of a telephone. He got through quickly to the H Division inspector on duty.

‘I didn’t see the man myself,’ the inspector said. ‘Hadn’t come in yet, and the sergeant who talked to him’s gone home. But seeing it’s to do with a big case, he reported to me in detail. Let me find my notes. What exactly did you want to know, sir?’

‘Whether it’s going to be worth my time to come and meet him. I realise you can’t give me any certainty, but did the sergeant get the impression that the man was reliable?’

‘What Sergeant Jones told me is, he was reluctant to have anything to do with the police – that’s why he was willing to talk to you, sir, reckoning you wouldn’t be interested in small fry – but he didn’t hold with murder. Little ratty chap, sneak-thief type, not a smash-and-grabber.’

‘Not known to you, though, I take it.’

‘No, but could just be he operates on someone else’s manor. He wasn’t too sure, Jones said, that this other chap
was telling the truth. Could be he was just boasting, talking through his hat. Same applies to him, of course, the one who came in, though Jones got the impression he was serious. That’s about it, sir.’

‘Right, thanks.’ Alec sighed. ‘It sounds as if I’d better turn up. I’ll be there at noon tomorrow.’ He rang off and went to pay a call on Robt. Thomson.

It was dusk when he turned into Balaclava Row. The Victorian terraces of tiny, soot-stained brick houses were no different from those he had walked between on his way here. Lights shone in lace-curtained windows, the soft glow of gas. The street lamps at both crossroads were electric, but landlords in these parts had not yet caught up with the changing times.

Alec walked along to number 45 and knocked on the door. It was opened by a wiry man of about thirty, in his shirtsleeves, with a cigarette in one corner of his mouth.

Removing it, he said, ‘Copper? I was wond’rin’ if you’d show up. Come on in. The missus is gettin’ the nippers to bed.’

‘Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher,’ Alec introduced himself, stepping into the tiny entrance hall. A Southern Railways porter’s cap and jacket hung on a hook on the wall, announcing Thomson’s job. ‘I appreciate your willingness to talk to us.’

‘Ain’t got much to say,’ he grunted, ‘but you’re welcome to what I got. Come through to the kitchen, if you don’t mind. The missus loikes her Ovaltine at bedtime, and I’m watchin’ the milk.’

‘Through’ to the kitchen was a couple of paces. Thomson stepped over to the stove and turned down the gas under
a pan of milk. Alec sat down at the well-scrubbed table, noting faded but neat gingham curtains, pots and pans and crockery neatly stacked on a couple of shelves. The worn, green linoleum floor was polished to a gleam. A house-proud housewife, who definitely wouldn’t have appreciated the arrival of a uniformed constable; he was glad he had taken the sergeant’s advice.

‘Fag?’ offered his host, joining him at the table.

‘No, thanks, I’m a pipe-man. Well, what can you tell me about Halliday and Devine?’

‘Captain and lieutenant they was back then. Me and me mates’d just shipped out to France, see, and they was two of the officers we landed up with. You want to know where we was, and all?’

‘No, that’s not necessary. I’m trying to understand the sort of men they were, and what they might have done that led to murder.’

Thomson shook his head slowly. ‘Nasty business, all right. But the fact is, guv, I can’t see neither of ’em doing nuffing that’d get ’em snuffed out.’ Cepting by the Boche, nacherly, but they made it through the war, di’n’ they?’

‘Yes, they died quite recently.’

‘They was the same in some ways and diff ’rent in others. They was gentlemen. Both of ’em treated you like a human being, even us Tommies. But the captain was kind of
standoffish
wiv it, like he was polite acos it was beneath him to be anyfing else. Lieutenant Devine, you got the feeling he reelly knew we was real people and he was sorry he couldn’ do
anyfing
about us being stuck in them gawdforsaken trenches.’

‘You’re an acute observer of character, Mr Thomson.’

‘Yes, werl, you got to be to make a living as a porter, guv.
Got to take a dekko at a passenger and know this lady’ll give you a smile and a half-crown, even if you can’t find her a window seat facing the engine, and that gentleman’ll make a big fuss about whatever seat you bag him and give you sixpence for your trouble.’

‘I see what you mean!’ said Alec, amused.

‘And I do well enough.’ Thomson looked with
satisfaction
round the tiny but comfortable kitchen, then sprang to his feet to rescue the milk just in time to stop it boiling over. ‘Whew!’ Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he mimed relief. ‘She’d’ve ’ad me guts for garters!’ He sat down again and lit another Woodbine. ‘Captain Halliday, now, he was going to do his duty, come what may. The lieutenant’d do what he was told.’

‘And you didn’t see anything of Colonel Pelham?’

‘There was talk that some old fossil was going to come out of retirement and take over the regiment, but I never heard his name. Then me and me mates, we was transferred to another unit. But what I reckon is, if them three, the colonel, Captain Halliday and Lieutenant Devine, did summat as made someone want to murder the lot of ’em, it must’ve been the colonel as started it. The captain made up his mind it was his duty to go along, and the lieutenant just followed orders.’

As Daisy, Sakari and Melanie reached the Meeting House, they saw a crocodile of schoolchildren approaching, halfway down the hill. They had arrived a few minutes early, hoping they wouldn’t have to walk into a room full of silent people.

Belinda had told Daisy about Quaker Meetings, so she had a rough idea of what to expect. She was surprised, though, when she entered the room with Sakari and Melanie, to see the pews arranged in a square facing a central table with a vase of pink roses. Beside the flowers lay a bible and another book, but there was nothing remotely resembling an altar! Several people were already there, sitting quietly with their hands folded in their laps. Most wore subdued colours, but one woman had a bright red hat, so Sakari, who didn’t own anything subdued, wasn’t too far out of line in her peacock sari.

A soft-voiced elderly lady in grey greeted them. ‘Welcome to our Meeting,’ she said. ‘The seats facing this way are reserved for the children from the school, but please sit anywhere else.’

Sakari chose the nearest pew, closest to the door. ‘You two go first,’ she whispered, ‘in case I want to escape.’ 

They left space between them for the girls, who had said they were allowed to sit with parents, when present. Several more people came in, and then the children arrived, remarkably quiet, the boys ushered by Mr Tesler, the girls by Miss Bascombe. Bel, Lizzie and Deva had no difficulty finding their mothers, given the beacon of Sakari’s vivid turquoise.

With a big smile, Belinda kissed Daisy’s cheek, but she didn’t say anything.

Quite a few of their fellow pupils also joined parents, while the rest filed into the reserved pews opposite. Tesler and Miss Bascombe stood at the back, on the outer edge of the boys’ and girls’ sections respectively, where they could keep an eye on their flocks. They waited till everyone was settled before they sat down. Daisy thought they both looked harassed and ill at ease. Twitchy was the word that came to mind. She wondered whether they had quarrelled, or perhaps that wretched Harriman had been making trouble for them.

Would the Committee that oversaw the school frown on their romance? Perhaps they were not sufficiently
discreet
about it, given that the children were apparently well aware of it.

Or perhaps just being in charge of keeping all those
teenaged
children quiet for an hour was enough to explain their anxiety.

More people had come in while Daisy’s thoughts were wandering. Now the woman who had greeted and directed them, closed the door and went to take her seat in a space obviously saved for her on the front bench at right-angles to the school pews. The hushed room took on a deeper
stillness. Though the loud, slow tick of the clock on the wall intruded, clearly it was time to turn one’s mind to higher things.

Despite her best intentions, Daisy’s continued to wander. She soon ceased to notice the clock and started to wonder what Alec was doing. Was he any nearer to solving the triple murder? Perhaps he had already arrested someone and would join them in Saffron Walden for the afternoon. They had better go back to the hotel after Meeting to see if there was a message from him. If he didn’t know by then, it would be too late to make the journey worthwhile. He might as well stay at home with the twins.

A man in front of her stood up and prayed for Mahatma Gandhi’s success in his path to peaceful reform. From the corner of her eye, Daisy saw Sakari’s shoulders relax their tautness. She hadn’t realised her friend was feeling uncomfortable in these surroundings, unsure of her welcome.

Tesler, also, regained his characteristic serenity in the course of the Meeting, absorbed in meditation. Daisy
wondered
whether he would notice his charges misbehaving, as long as they didn’t make a lot of noise.

In the next half-hour, several people stood and spoke. Some had an overtly Christian message, others talked about an act of kindness they had witnessed, or something inspiring they had read. One ancient woman rambled on for several minutes in a mumble Daisy couldn’t make out at all, but on the whole, she found plenty of food for reflection during the periods of silence. Then the small
children
thundered down the stairs from Sunday School. They were very well-behaved, but inevitably a bit restless, as Bel had foretold.

A short, stout, balding man rose and said gloomily: ‘“Suffer little children, and forbid them not to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”’ As he sat down, Daisy wondered whether he did the same every week, just to remind himself.

A couple of minutes later, the woman who had greeted them at the door turned to first one then the other of her neighbours and shook hands, as they did in turn with others on the bench. Apparently that was a signal.

‘Those are the elders,’ Bel whispered. ‘That’s the end.’

People began to stir and to talk together. Daisy had
survived
her first Meeting. Several people came over to speak to her and her friends, seeming particularly anxious to make sure Sakari was welcomed. By the time they extricated themselves and reached the street, Sakari was beaming, her usual effervescence restored.

‘You were lucky, Mummy,’ said Belinda. ‘Sometimes no one speaks at all and it seems to go on forever. Are we going to the Bridge End Garden now, before lunch?’

‘I shall drive there,’ Sakari said firmly. ‘The walk up here from the Rose and Crown to the Meeting House was enough for me. This town has too many hills.’

‘It can’t be much more than a quarter of a mile to the Garden,’ Melanie protested, ‘going by your guidebook, Sakari.’

‘I’ve got to go back to the hotel anyway,’ said Daisy, ‘to see if there’s a message from Alec.’

Belinda’s face lit up. ‘Oh, Mummy, do you think Daddy may come after all?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up, darling. I rather doubt it, but I’d hate him to arrive and find us not there.’

No message awaited them at the Rose and Crown. Daisy asked the receptionist how long it would take to walk to the Bridge End Garden.

‘About ten minutes, madam, if you cut through the churchyard.’

‘You see, Sakari,’ said Melanie, ‘it’s no distance.’

‘Is it uphill?’ Sakari asked suspiciously.

The receptionist admitted that there was indeed an uphill slope from the Market Place to the church. Sakari promptly sent for Kesin, but the others all decided to walk.

The day was still pleasantly cool, and Daisy enjoyed the walk. They passed the Sun Inn, another fourteenth-century building, with its fantastic plasterwork. Most was typical pargetting in repeated patterns, to be found on many local walls, but birds and fruit also appeared, in bas-relief, and one gable-end boasted two figures. The guidebook named them as the giants Gog and Magog, or possibly the Wisbech giant and Tom Hickathrift, whoever he might be. The
controversy
was unlikely ever to be resolved.

They came to the parish church, from which wafted the strains of organ and choral music. Though its spire was
visible
from most of the town, Daisy hadn’t realised how big it was. According to the guidebook it was a ‘wool’ church, built with the enormous profits of the medieval wool trade.

She started to wonder whether her American editor would be interested in an article about the ancient town.

Crossing Castle Street, they looked for the narrow passage between two houses that the receptionist had described. Sakari drove up just as they found it.

‘You’ll have to walk from here, Mummy,’ Deva told her, ‘but it looks as if it’s downhill.’

The girls ran ahead, their elders following at a pace suited to Sakari. They passed between several houses accessible only by the footpath, before a meadow opened out to their right. On the far side was a low, decorative stone wall. Beyond it, topiary shrubs were visible.

‘Nearly there, darling,’ Daisy assured Sakari.

‘If there is no bench near the entrance, I shall sit down on the grass!’

The entrance was between two brick pillars topped by stone eagles. One had its wings spread, and the other appeared to be giving it a quizzical look. Wrought iron gates decorated with scrollery stood open, and just beyond was an iron bench. Sakari promptly sat down on it, and Daisy and Melanie joined her. It faced a formal garden, yews trimmed in geometrical shapes and low box hedges forming an
asymmetrical
pattern of flowerbeds, divided by gravel paths. In the centre was a circular lawn, with a small pool and a fountain. The children were already racing about in a game of tag.

‘Well, if this is the maze,’ said Melanie with a sigh of relief, ‘they can’t possibly get lost in it.’

‘This is not the maze.’ Sakari dug in her handbag for the guidebook. ‘It is the Dutch Garden, if I am not
mistaken
. Yes, look. The maze has high hedges, like the one at Hampton Court.’

They all studied the book for a few minutes. The Garden as a whole was layed out in various sections, including a walled kitchen garden (called the ‘Walled Garden’), a rose garden and a wilderness (called the ‘Wilderness’). There was plenty of space for poor Miss Bascombe and Mr Tesler to wander at leisure.

Then Mel looked up and exclaimed, ‘They’ve disappeared!’

There was no sign of the girls.

‘They’re probably playing hide and seek now,’ said Daisy, ‘behind those tall topiaries.’

‘I hope they haven’t gone into the maze by themselves and got lost. Or in the Wilderness.’

‘No, look!’ Daisy pointed. Bel, Deva and Lizzie appeared to be standing about eight feet above the ground,
waist-deep
in a hedge. They were waving and calling. ‘What on earth … ? Let’s go and see what they’re up to.’

They walked along the central path, round the fountain – three fish with intertwined tails supporting a small boy with curly hair and no clothes – and came to the base of the yew hedge supporting three giggling girls (fully clothed).

‘There’s steps, Mummy,’ Lizzie explained, ‘inside the hedge.’

‘Do be careful!’ Melanie was ever the worrier.

‘There’s a railing, Mrs Germond,’ said Deva. ‘We won’t fall.’

‘Come up and see,’ Bel invited them. ‘You get a good view of the Garden from here. We’ll come down first, though. There isn’t room for everyone.’

Was the dreadful Harriman in the habit of lurking up there to spy on Tesler and his sweetheart?
Daisy wondered.

Even Sakari climbed the iron steps. From the platform at the top, the pattern of the Dutch Garden spread out below, each box-hedged shape filled in with colourful flowers. In the opposite direction, Daisy was glad to see a gardener scything grass under the trees in the so-called Wilderness, which was more like a copse. She had been
afraid that, as it was Sunday, there would be no staff present to retrieve the girls from the maze if they did manage to get themselves lost.

By the time they descended the steps, the girls were
impatient
to explore the maze. All Sakari wanted, of course, was another bench. They found one, shaded by a spreading tree, on a wide lawn on the way to the maze. Daisy offered to go with the girls so that Melanie could keep Sakari company.

To get to the maze, they passed a statue of a peacock, went up several steps between grinning gargoyles and passed through another elaborately scrolled iron gate. On one side was the brick wall of the Walled Garden. The high yew hedges of the maze itself were surrounded by a lawn, trees and shrubs. No one else was visible, though of course there might be someone in the maze. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing one did by oneself, though, and Daisy couldn’t hear anyone talking.

The girls, still full of energy, rushed to the nearby gap in the hedge. Deva and Lizzie disappeared. Belinda looked back.

‘Aren’t you coming, Mummy?’

‘I’ll wait here, in case you have to be rescued.’

‘We won’t!’ Bel vanished after the others.

Irritatingly, now that Daisy really wanted one, there was no bench. She strolled round the outer edge of the maze, hearing the girls voices:

‘This way!’

‘No, this way!’

‘I’m going that way!’

‘Lizzie, Bel, where are you?’

‘I’m just the other side of the hedge.’

‘How did you get there?’

‘Here’s a bench.’

Inside, not outside
, Daisy thought with indignation.

‘Oh, this is another dead end. Bother!’

‘I’ve found a sort of a stone vase.’

‘I think I’ve gone round in a circle!’

Then one of them began to scream.