After
Freya introduced him to Martha Rathbone, McKenna waited until the headmistress had closed the study door behind her, with something of a thud, before saying, ‘Shall we find somewhere more private? There’s a nice pub down the road.’ He steered her out of the school, slowing his pace so that she could keep up with him, for she limped heavily. From somewhere near at hand but out of sight, he could hear the regular clip-clop of hooves.
‘
Could we go in your car?’ she asked. ‘I’m so tired I’m not even sure which day it is.’
He
had parked his car, a sapphire-blue Jaguar, under the trees and its bodywork was spattered with pollen. ‘How did you get here?’ he asked, gunning the engine and turning in a wide circle to face the drive.
‘
I hired a car at Manchester airport. My chauffeur’s on holiday because I wasn’t planning to return to Britain until the end of term.’
Once
the guardian police moved out of the way, he drove out through the gates. The photographers and reporters craned forward to peer through the car windows, then backed away, faces dull with disappointment.
‘
I don’t think they’ve recognised me,’ Martha remarked. ‘Thank heavens for small mercies, eh?’
He
was not surprised. She bore hardly any resemblance to the newspaper photographs he had occasionally seen. In an old suede jacket, denim jeans and cotton shirt, she looked homely and ordinary, distinguished only by the fine, clear eyes and obstinate mouth Alice had inherited. Curly brown hair flopped around a lined, unmade-up face and even her voice lacked any pretension.
‘
I noticed you limp,’ he commented.
‘
I’m rheumatic,’ she said. ‘It runs in the family. So far, it hasn’t caught up with Alice, but she’s got her own problems. Asthma can be very nasty.’ Surreptitiously, he looked at her fingers, devoid of rings and as gnarled as exposed tree roots. ‘We’re not from very good stock, I’m afraid,’ she went on. ‘Had we been animals, we’d have been put down at birth.’
He
was further surprised when the landlord at the pub greeted her warmly.
She
asked for coffee and biscuits, then followed McKenna to a table by one of the small, deep-set windows. ‘I bring Alice quite often,’ she explained, draping her jacket over a chair back. ‘She likes to have lunch here, much to Freya’s disgust, I may add.’
‘
Alice must find ordinary experiences hard to come by. A pub lunch can only be good for her.’
‘
I only wish there could be more of them. Our way of life is totally unnatural.’ She nibbled a biscuit, dropping crumbs on the table.
‘
The Hermitage is full of girls in a similar position.’
‘
And look at them!’ she exclaimed. Scooping up the crumbs and dusting her hands over the ashtray, she added, ‘They’re no more than fodder for Freya’s crude psychological experiments. If Alice weren’t relatively settled, I’d send her somewhere else, but that said, to my mind one boarding school is very like another. There’s too much of a marketplace mentality about them these days, as if they’re supplying a product rather than helping children to grow into useful citizens.’ Suddenly she grinned. ‘Freya’s quite Jesuitical in her approach, you know. “Give me the child, and I will give you the man”, except that she gives you the woman, moulded as much as possible in her own image.’ Her face clouded. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her like this.’
‘
Her philosophies must go down well with most parents,’ he ventured, lighting his fourth cigarette of the day. ‘She’s got what you might call a full order book.’
She
nodded. ‘Yes, just like a double-glazing salesman with a superb sales pitch. She mainly targets the nouveau riche, playing on elitism and good old English snobbery, forever dropping names and titles and past successes, and people buy into the image. They believe the school
must
be good because the fees are so high, the same way they think a swanky dress shop won’t sell you tat. And yes,’ she added, pre-empting comment, ‘I
did
fall for it. My second husband was the one who opened my eyes. Five minutes with Freya was enough to convince him she is, as he put it, “full of shit”, if you’ll excuse the language.’
‘
I’ll bear that in mind,’ he said, nonplussed.
‘
Oh, I’m sorry! You’ve got far more important things to do than listen to this.’ She picked up her cup and took a large gulp. ‘Freya did her best to convince me Sukie Melville killed herself, but if that were the case the school wouldn’t be crawling with police. Do you actually know how she died?’
‘
Not yet.’
‘
I see.’ She chose another biscuit, which she broke into four neat pieces. ‘On the way back, I worked myself into a near frenzy thinking about homicidal maniacs and kidnappers.’ Worry was drawing more lines on her face. ‘I don’t bother overmuch about my own security, but Alice has been surrounded by what I call the negative trappings of extreme wealth since she first drew breath, simply because the world’s full of lunatics and she’s an obvious kidnap target. As she well knows,’ she added ruefully. ‘A couple of years ago she started fantasising about being kidnapped and deprived of an ear or thumb to he enclosed with the ransom note I’d get. Naturally, Freya wanted to consult a psychiatrist. Oh, do excuse me!’ She yawned then, covering her mouth with those crooked fingers. ‘Anyway, I flatly refused. I suspect it was primarily a plea for my attention, although Alice claimed she was just bored.’
‘
How did Dr Scott know? Children usually keep their imaginary lives to themselves.’
‘
Alice made the mistake of sharing hers with that horrible Daisy Podmore, who, allegedly, is her best friend. I’ve never liked Daisy and I liked her even less after she went sneaking to Freya “for Alice’s own good”, which is always the rationale of someone out to cause trouble. When her little bomb turned out to be a damp squib, she was very put out.’
‘
Why don’t you like Daisy?’
‘
Have you met her?’
‘
I’ve seen her,’ he said, ‘but not spoken to her.’
‘
You’ll get a shock when you do, then,’ Martha said. ‘She’s got the most awful lisp I’ve ever heard, despite years of speech therapy. It’s so bad she almost reinvents pronunciation and, worse still, you feel virtually compelled to copy her.’ She met his eyes. ‘Yes, I know it’s not her fault, but I’m sorry to say I find her utterly repellent. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, it’s just there. Her parents are a total nightmare as well. Her mother’s a braying tart and her father’s an absolute slimeball. I say that even though I’ve only met them once and then only briefly, but with some people you know what they are as soon as you set eyes on them.’
‘
How did Alice react to Daisy’s betrayal?’
‘
She was really hurt. I told her to ditch Daisy and either make do with Grace Blackwell, who hangs around with them at times, or simply keep to her own company, but that caused an argument. As she pointed out, I’m not famous for my ability to choose wisely.’
‘
How many times have you been married?’ he asked, thinking of Charlotte Swann’s fragmented background.
‘
Twice,’ Martha replied. ‘I was thirty-two the first time and the marriage was dead in the water before Alice arrived three years later. I made the not unusual mistake of hoping a child would hind us together. Alice was eleven when I remarried and that marriage lasted two years.’ She fiddled with her cup. ‘I think there’s a sort of blind spot in my character and I’m afraid Alice has it too, if Daisy’s anything to go by.’ After a long pause she said, ‘To be honest, I’m not interested in being married. Alice is my whole life. I’ve never even wanted another child.’
‘
Are you an only child, too?’
‘
I had an older brother called Danny.’ She gazed at him, a distant look in her eyes. ‘Because of him, I tried not to love Alice too much, but it wasn’t possible.’ Taking a deep breath she went on, ‘Until Grandad died when I was ten, we lived a perfectly unremarkable life. My father was an accountant, Mother stayed at home, and Grandad had a small but absolutely rock-solid precision tool and instrument business. After he died the business went to my mother, and she discovered this wonderful flair for innovation and development. Everything just took off.’ She picked up another biscuit. ‘Danny wanted to go into the business once he’d taken his degree, but he died. He caught meningitis and died in the space of a few hours, so that’s really why I’ve so little patience with the trappings of security. Disease is a much greater hazard than a kidnapper or psychopath.’
‘
How old were you?’
‘
Sixteen. I dreamt about him the other night, you know, and I haven’t done that since just before my father’s last illness.’ She sighed. ‘But they do say that to dream of the dead is a sign of trouble with the living.’
‘
Is your mother still alive?’ he asked.
She
shook her head. ‘That’s why I’m awash with money, and why Alice will be one day.’ Munching the biscuit, she fell silent. ‘It’s odd,’ she went on after a while, ‘how many Hermitage girls stand to inherit through their mothers. Apart from Alice, there’s a French girl whose mother owns half Marseilles, I shouldn’t wonder, a German girl who looks like a carthorse whose mother owns an enormous sausage factory — what else? — and the ghastly Daisy will get some fine Home Counties properties, not to mention a couple of dozen very profitable retail outlets when her mother goes to heaven.’ She peered at him, questioningly. ‘
Should
I do something about extra security?’
‘
We’ll be maintaining a strong police presence at the school, day and night, for the duration, and its very isolation helps us to ring fence the place.’ He chose another biscuit, eating instead of smoking. ‘However, we can’t ignore the possibility of kidnap and as it’s not an area where we have much expertise, our chief constable has asked for assistance. That, initially, will be an assessment of risk, based on intelligence.’
‘
I read somewhere,’ Martha said, ‘that murders are usually committed by someone very close to the victim.’ She stared at him, face again webbed with anxiety. ‘I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or worse!’
Nona
Lloyd, with some of her colleagues, was interviewing fifth formers in the library when the bell rang for morning break. The girls began to fidget immediately, several stood up, and as soon as one made for the door the rest, without a word to their interrogators, followed. They were just like Pavlov’s dogs, she thought, sticking her pen down the spine of her notebook.
As
she was walking down the corridor, Janet came up behind her. ‘Any joy with your lot?’ she asked.
‘
Not really,’ Nona replied. ‘How about you?’
‘
A few interesting odds and ends,’ she said, turning into the lobby, ‘but nothing that’s likely to tell us who might have blood on their hands.’ At the door she stopped. ‘I was planning to escape for half an hour. Fancy a trip to the Antelope?’
‘
It would be nice to breathe some fresh air, wouldn’t it?’ Nona remarked. ‘But shouldn’t we ask Mr McKenna first?’ Then she noticed the gap where his car had been. ‘Oh, he must have gone out,’ she added.
‘
And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,’ Janet said lightly, leading the way to her own car.
Although
she was a few years older than Janet and a married woman, Nona always felt inadequate in comparison, even if the comparison existed only in her own mind and her presumed shortcomings mostly related to matters over which she had never had any control. Janet owned a physical elegance quite uncommon in Welsh women and her face, when not in the throes of a mood, could be beautiful. Her voice was unusually attractive too, Nona thought, as she listened to her talking about the morning’s interviews with the fourth formers.
The
Antelope was a bare five minutes’ drive from the school and, following Janet to the terrace overlooking Menai Bridge, Nona began to wonder how she could improve her own pitch and diction. For the first time since she had joined the police six years before, she also started to consider her future. Janet, as a fast-track graduate entrant, would forever be at least ten steps ahead and she would always be somewhat upper-crust, at least by local standards, but there was nothing to stop Nona bettering herself where she could. Rather than let envy corrode her will, she should let it be a spur.
‘
Coffee, tea or a cold drink?’ Janet asked, preparing to go to the bar.
‘
Black tea, please.’
Watching
her walk away, Nona realised that while the elegance was innate, the style could be borrowed and resolved to overhaul her own wardrobe at the first opportunity. Unlike Janet, she was condemned to wearing uniform at work, but it would take only a day in Chester’s exclusive dress shops to transform her off-duty wear.
And
her bank balance, she reminded herself ruefully, as Janet returned with their drinks.
Janet
lit a cigarette, hungrily pulling smoke into her lungs. ‘This is the first I’ve had since breakfast,’ she said, noticing the frown Nona was unable to hide. ‘I need it.’
‘
I’m not preaching, but cigarettes really are lethal,’ Nona said. ‘My uncle lost one of his lungs to cancer and now they’ve found a shadow on the other. Why don’t you try nicotine patches? They seem to be helping Mr McKenna to cut down.’
‘
Yes, I’d noticed he wasn’t smoking so much,’ Janet mused. ‘That must be why he’s more miserable and bad-tempered than usual.’
Nona
shrugged. ‘Better that than dead.’
‘
How do you know, anyway?’ asked Janet. ‘About the patches?’
‘
I saw the packet on his desk the other day.’
Janet
grinned. ‘He’s probably got them stuck on every available inch of skin.’
‘
Well, there’s not too much of that these days, is there? He’s gone terribly scrawny-looking.’
‘
He’s always been thin.’
‘
Yes, but not emaciated, like he is now.’
‘
Don’t you think he’s still attractive, though?’
‘
I suppose,’ Nona said slowly.
‘B
ut then, if your husband’s anything to go by, Mr McKenna’s not your type, is he?’
Laughing,
Nona said, ‘When Mam first met Gwynfor she said he was built like a young bull.’
‘
And is he?’ Janet asked roguishly.
‘
Janet, really!’ Nona’s face was bright pink. ‘It’s not like you to be crude.’
‘
Blame that hormone-crazed atmosphere at the school.’
‘
Those girls
are
a bit OTT, aren’t they? I don’t remember being quite so obsessed with sex at that age.’ Nona thought for a moment. ‘Then again, we went to school with boys, so that probably explains the difference.’ After another pause she asked, ‘Have they been quizzing you about boyfriends? They’ve tried it on me, even though I told them I was married.’
‘
In their circles I don’t imagine being married stops people playing away from home,’ Janet commented. ‘Actually, they were more interested in Dewi’s love life. Not a few of them blush even at the mention of his name, so he could no doubt have a new career as a bit of rough for the posh girls if he wanted to. So could Sean O’Connor, come to that.’ She grinned again. ‘And Mr McKenna’s firmly fixed in Freya Scott’s sights, whether he knows it or not. She was trying to find out from me earlier what makes him tick. I told her I’d let her know when I find out myself.’
‘
Have you heard anything about Sukie having a boyfriend?’
‘
I’ve heard a great deal about her supposed pregnancy,’ Janet said, ‘but not a word about who could have helped her to get into that condition. Grace Blackwell, for one, was wittering endlessly about the pregnancy, but said repeatedly that Sukie wasn’t “like that” — in other words that she wasn’t one for the boys. I was tempted to ask her if she thought there’d been another immaculate conception, which probably isn’t the best remark to make to a vicar’s daughter.’
‘
She’s the one Bryn nabbed for wearing Sukie’s old skirt, isn’t she?’ Nona asked.
Janet
nodded. ‘I think Bryn quite scared her. She’s also worried about the rest of the hand-me-downs she’s got; she thought we were going to take them away. When I said not, Daisy started taunting her, saying she couldn’t wear Sukie’s clothes now in any case because next time Bryn smelled them on her he’d tear her to bits. So according to Daisy, Grace is back to wearing sack-cloth and ashes.’
‘
Daisy’s rather horrible, isn’t she? She makes my skin crawl, even though I’ve barely passed the time of day with her.’
Janet
stubbed out one cigarette and reached for another, saying, ‘My last until after lunch. OK?’ Then, she went on, ‘I’m not sure Daisy
is
as nasty as she seems. Deep down, I think she’s really unhappy and there could be much more to her relationship with Grace than appearances suggest.’
‘
Why d’you say that?’
‘
Well,’ Janet began thoughtfully, ‘as you’d expect, after Daisy’s little outburst, Grace got very snivelly. Daisy said she was only blubbing for my benefit, because she was always the first to preach about “the truth hurting”. So,’ she added, with a slight shrug, ‘I don’t know quite what to make of either of them, particularly as I’d already sat through a diatribe from Grace on the various sins that abound at the Hermitage.’
‘
Sins?’ Nona echoed. ‘What kind of sins?’
‘
The kind my father, as a man of the cloth like Grace’s father, is also inclined to condemn out of hand, even though they might only demonstrate the confusion and irrationality of the human spirit.’
Nona
pressed for an answer. ‘But what did she actually
say
?’
‘
She claims some girls get punished for nothing, yet others get away with murder — she actually said “murder”. That led to a lecture on the inevitability of divine retribution, as interpreted by her father, and a further discourse on the issue of sacrifice, again by reference to her father and the sacrifices he has to make to keep her at the school. Some sort of religious trust pays part of the fees, but he has to make up the balance.’
‘
Well, then, nothing of what she says is unreasonable, is it?’
‘
I suppose not,’ agreed Janet. ‘I’m just not keen on the subtext, because I think she’s sanctimonious and very envious. She had a lot to say about Sukie’s grandparents and their bottomless purses while in the same breath listing what
she
has to do without, including music lessons, even though she’s got a wonderful singing voice and leads the church choir at home.’
‘
You should’ve asked her if she was jealous of Sukie.’
‘
I did.’ Janet blew a plume of smoke skywards. ‘She admitted to being jealous of quite a lot of the girls at one time, before going through a process of resignation which has, she said, led to enlightenment. She now realises that an excess of worldly goods can corrupt the spirit; poverty, on the other hand, is positively uplifting.’
‘
I see what you mean about her being sanctimonious,’ Nona remarked. ‘But she sounds a shade pitiful, for all that. I’d defy most people not to go a bit peculiar when they’re getting
other
people’s wealth rammed down their throats day and night.’
‘
So would I,’ Janet said. ‘But I’ll still have a look at that paper we’ve had on child killers to see if she fits the profile. Jealousy can be very, very corrosive.’
‘
But in her case it’s too vague a motive,’ Nona argued. ‘Why pick on Sukie, and not one of the others?’ She frowned. ‘And isn’t she a bit puny? She wouldn’t have the strength. By the way,’ she went on, lowering her voice conspiratorially, ‘did you know some of our less sensitive male colleagues have opened a book on the killer? I hope Mr McKenna doesn’t find out. He’ll crucify them.’
‘
You’re joking!’ exclaimed Janet.
‘
I’m not.’ Nona swallowed the dregs of her tea. ‘And guess who’s odds-on favourite at the moment.’
‘
I’ve no idea. Who?’
‘
Daisy.’
‘
Why?’
‘
Because she acts like a psycho, I suppose.’
‘
So do plenty of the others.’
‘
Yes, but Daisy’s got that awful lisp, and you can’t help thinking a flaw like that means there’s something bad about a person.’
‘
What about Imogen, then?’
‘
She wasn’t
born
that way. Anyway, think about it,’ Nona urged. ‘Daisy looks strong enough to dispatch a grown man.’
‘
Every girl I’ve spoken to so far has calluses on her hands, as a result of wielding tennis racquets and lacrosse sticks. When I first saw them I felt quite nostalgic, because I used to get them, too. Then I remembered what sports did for my muscles, as well, so, barring a few of the very young ones, I’d say they’re
all
strong enough.’
‘
You’re probably right,’ Nona conceded, getting to her feet. She unhooked her holdall from the back of the chair, eyeing Janet’s chic leather shoulder bag as she did so. ‘So if anyone asks me about having a bet,’ she went on, ‘I’ll tell them to put their money on a rank outsider. There are two hundred plus to choose from, without including the staff.’ As they left the terrace, she tried surreptitiously to match Janet’s long, easy strides, but it was hard, for although Janet was only a couple of inches taller, her legs seemed endless. ‘Haven’t you read that paper yet?’ When Janet shook her head, she said, ‘The theories are very interesting, but I’m not sure they hang together. Maybe they don’t go deep enough.’ Then she corrected herself. ‘No, they go astray because they’re based on the innocence of childhood when there’s really no such thing.’
‘
You think not?’ asked Janet, unlocking her car. Nona slid into the passenger seat. ‘People who commit murder as adults were just as capable when they were children,’ she said. ‘They don’t suffer some great moral collapse on their eighteenth birthday. Quite frankly, I’m surprised
more
children don’t kill, because they’ve had less exposure to socialisation processes.’ As Janet turned out of the car park into Treborth Road she added reflectively, ‘Mind you, the Hermitage girls get subjected to completely abnormal socialisation processes. In a way, they’re actually
designed
to bring out the worst, so not only is everything going to be exaggerated, but nobody can escape.’ She twisted round in her seat. ‘
We
couldn’t wait to get out of there, could we? Why was that? What did we
actually
feel?’
‘
In a word,’ Janet replied, ‘threatened. At least, I did.’
‘
Me, too,’ Nona told her. ‘But not by anything specific. It’s just a general feeling of menace, like thunder clouds that won’t blow away. Not only that, I literally find it hard to breathe, although that might he because of the trees.’