On the given Wednesday morning Eve took the bus to Highston and left Grace at home to her unrelenting tasks, cleaning and cooking. Eve had been summoned to be a witness at the inquest, but she still felt guilty at the time off because she was here in the country to help her sister, not to go swanning off to town at the first opportunity. But Eve fancied the idea of exploring the little market town after the inquest as she hadn’t had a moment to do so before. Now the children were back at school she had a little time on her hands and for once the morning was dry, although the clouds to the west suggested the afternoon would prove less pleasant.
The inquest was due to start at eleven thirty and, as the chubby single-decker bus laboured asthmatically through the tree-lined lanes, where the branches often met over the roof, giving the effect of travelling through a dark tunnel, Eve began to worry that she might be late as the bus’s pace was so slow. But it arrived just in time for her to scamper to the court house, a bulky, staid Victorian building near the centre of the town overlooking the market square and flanked by even more ancient structures. The Coroner’s Court was held in a spacious upstairs room as the ground floor of the building had been given to the offices of the Ministry of Food, from which they administrated the issuing of ration books for a wide area around Highston.
After a clerk directed her, Eve pushed open the double doors of the court, and she was guided to the seats near the front set aside for witnesses. Looking around, she noticed that Fred Gardiner was sitting near the back on the benches reserved for members of the public interested in the enquiry and reporters from the local paper. Just one young woman with a notebook represented the Press. Clearly no-one was very interested in the discovery of unidentified bones in Little Barrington, except for another couple of villagers that Eve remembered seeing in the street. Eve also thought she saw the dark figure of the vicar in a corner at the back, his black clothing disappearing into the deep shadows. He was probably there in a professional capacity, looking for material for next Sunday’s sermon. Fred sat beside the reporter with two elderly women on his other side. They looked as if they’d merely come in to pass an interesting afternoon and had brought a sandwich lunch with them – cheaper than the cinema and with promise of drama to boot. They were chattering like starlings until the Coroner entered the court and a respectful hush descended over the proceedings. Fred beamed Eve one of his grins and a slight wave.
The clerk of the court started the inquest by telling everyone why they were there; to determine the cause of death of the body found on the edge of Barrington Wood.
‘Firstly − Discovery of the Remains.’ The man spoke in sombre tones and capital letters. ‘Calling Miss Eve Duncan.’ A woman was taking notes at a table in the front of the court.
Eve was directed to the front, in an area set aside for witnesses to speak, she took the oath and the Coroner, a much more relaxed and informal chap than the clerk, leant forward and spoke in a conversational tone.
‘I understand you did not personally discover the remains, Miss Duncan. Would you mind explaining, for the record, why you are acting as a witness to the discovery?’
Eve went through the events of the week before and, from the arrival of Albert on the kitchen doorstep, she described what had happened later that morning.
‘We thought it best if I gave evidence rather than the evacuee children as we don’t want to upset them any more than necessary.’
‘Quite so, Miss Duncan, I completely understand and agree. This court is perfectly prepared to accept your evidence as you were very soon at the scene after the children found the bones.’
Eve described what the children had discovered and what happened later when the police were called; her vigil waiting with the bones to see that they were not disturbed and the subsequent arrival of the police entourage. When she’d finished, the Coroner thanked and dismissed her. Eve took the same seat again as she wanted to hear the rest of the evidence presented. She knew that little more had been discovered, but it might be interesting to hear the entire official version.
The police told their version of events up to when they handed over the body to the coroner’s pathologist. They described the bones found by Albert and then the discovery of the remainder of the body by the police dog, Pike, further into the wood.
The pathologist then took the stand and described the body in detail, telling the court that they’d determined that the remains were those of a woman of between thirty and forty five who’d given birth at some time. He didn’t add any more information to what Eve already knew except in one detail. It appeared that the pathologist had determined that the skull had sustained a heavy blow from behind before death and it had caved in the back of the woman’s head. The blow, he said, must have caused considerable brain damage and he had no doubt that this wound was the cause of death, which would have been almost instantaneous. He could not ascertain what had been the murder weapon beyond the fact that it had been a heavy object delivered with considerable force. They hadn’t been able to identify the body as no distinguishing marks remained and the women had perfect teeth in her battered skull – it appeared that she had never had any dental treatment. As the Coroner said when the pathologist had finished giving his evidence, this was regrettable because dental records were often used to identify a person after death.
The proceedings concluded with the Coroner giving his verdict. He adopted a serious manner.
‘I think is clear,’ he declared, ‘that this woman was unlawfully killed. I therefore submit a verdict of murder by person or persons unknown. When and if, in due course, the identity of the unfortunate victim is ascertained, it should be recorded with the findings of this court. Thank you all very much for attending.’
The Coroner gathered his papers, stood and prepared to leave. That was the extent of the case for the poor woman in the wood. The whole event had taken less than half an hour.
On the way out of the court Eve found Fred Gardiner waiting for her in the hallway.
‘Hello, Fred, what are you doing here?’
‘I thought I’d come along and have a butcher’s. I’ve never been to one of these things. It wasn’t as interesting as I’d hoped. That poor reporter girl is going to have a problem writing something interesting for the paper.’
The cockney rhyming slang he’d used didn’t sit well with Fred’s country burr, but Eve grinned at him; he was just trying to be friendly.
‘I think the inquest’s just procedure,’ said Eve, ‘so that something goes into the records. It’s not supposed to be very sensational.’
‘Come to the pub for a pint and a sandwich?’ Fred said.
Eve was happy to accompany him to the splendid old coaching inn on the other side of the market square, grandly named The Duke of Clarence. A much more well-appointed hostelry than the Royal Oak in Little Barrington, this place had mahogany panelled walls and bars, etched glass panels and windows, and an impressively carved fireplace. Eve and Fred passed a happy half an hour before he had to return to work at the council offices. While they were eating at the bar, Fred talked about his children; boys aged 13 and 15, of whom he was clearly very proud, and his wife, Doris, who he also seemed inordinately fond of. They’d not been married long, it seemed.
Eve talked about Shepherds Bush and the Blitz and how difficult life was for everyone in London; the horror of the bombing and the discomfort of the shelters. Fred asked about the evacuees and moaned about their thieving ways and the fact that he was sure they’d been stealing his soft fruit. He proved a good listener and Eve enjoyed his undemanding company. They chatted about many things, except the inquest, which had exhausted its interest for them both for now.
Fred pointed out several people that he knew who were also present in the hostelry.
‘Good heavens,’ he said, ‘there’s Lady Muck – sorry, Lady Passmore – she’s the wife of the Earl. He’s commander of an outfit somewhere in the Med. and she’s living in the Dower House because Passmore Hall’s been requisitioned as a military hospital. She’s pretty fed up with it too, by all accounts, considers it a disgrace that common soldiers should be occupying the ancestral pile. It looks as if she’s meeting someone for lunch.’
Fred’s curiosity as to Lady Passmore’s luncheon companion caused him to lean so far back on his bar stool that Eve feared he’d topple over.
As her ladyship passed into the dining room Fred settled into his seat again. ‘I think she’s just having lunch with the vicar – he’s a great friend of hers I understand. He’s up at the Hall a lot because he goes to visit the wounded soldiers and give them pastoral care. Poor devils.’
Eve wasn’t sure if he meant they were poor devils because of their injuries or because they had to put up with the attentions of the Reverend Groome. Eve had already met the frosty vicar and couldn’t see him as the provider of succour to men wounded in body and spirit. His boring platitudes were more likely to agitate them.
Mr Forbes, from the Little Barrington village shop popped in for a pint and came to say hello, but didn’t linger as he was meeting a friend.
‘The missus is taking care of the shop today,’ he said. ‘Wednesday’s early closing, so I get the afternoon off.’
*
On the way home Eve stared out of the window at the streaming rain that had started as she boarded the bus, just as she had predicted that morning. She reflected on the evidence she’d heard at the inquest. How sad for that poor woman who’d been murdered, taken to the wood and buried so unceremoniously in the peat. Would they ever find out who she was and, more importantly, who had killed her?
That evening Eve persuaded Grace to leave the house for once and come to the pub with her.
‘Yes, you two go. I’ll keep an eye on the children, you need a break.’ Hugh kissed Grace gently and almost pushed her out of the door. ‘Go on. I’ll see you later.’
The women walked into the village. Although the rain had stopped they took a large umbrella with them, just in case.
‘It seems like months since I went to the pub,’ said Grace.
‘Well, I’m glad you’re coming, you don’t get out nearly enough.’
When the girls walked into the bar of the Royal Oak that summer evening, they were surprised to find it much fuller than usual. Fred greeted them warmly and gave them seats near the bar at a large circular table.
‘Here she is!’ he cried to the crowd in general. ‘The heroine of the hour!’
Clearly Fred had been in the pub for some time, judging by his high spirits. It seemed that he’d been regaling his audience with all the details, such as they were, of the inquest that morning. Perhaps, with the promise of a few free drinks, he’d embellished the story to suit his audience. Anyway, everyone, and there was quite a throng, appeared eager to hear Eve’s version of events. She sat at the table and took a healthy swig from the gin and orange set before her.
‘Nothing much happened that you don’t know already,’ she said, embarrassed by the powerful beam of attention. ‘The Coroner brought in a verdict of murder by person or persons unknown, and of course, they don’t know the identity of the body yet.’ She hoped that they’d leave her alone now as she had nothing more to report, but someone bought her another drink, although she hadn’t finished the first one, and pressed for more details.
‘Was it ‘orrible? Did they describe all the gory details in court?’
‘There wasn’t much to say, really, the body had been reduced to bones. They found she’d been bashed over the head.’
A gasp of horror followed these words even though Eve knew that the details had already circulated the village several times and no more juice could possibly be extracted from them.
‘Can we talk about something else,’ she begged. ‘I’ve had enough of murdered bodies for today.’
The Gossard twins, sipping gin and It and giggling at their daring at a table nearby, pulled disappointed grimaces. The rest of the crowd moved away, regret clear on their features, and Eve and Grace were able to enjoy their drinks in relative peace for a while. Grace was soon in deep conversation with Fred’s pretty young wife, Doris, who was displaying the first signs of her pregnancy. Fred treated her with almost overwhelming consideration, making sure she had everything she needed, in spite of his slightly inebriated state. Doris, who appeared to be a good natured girl, endured his ministrations with considerable patience and later started to chat to Eve about the evacuees.
‘They look a right handful,’ she said. ‘I’ve got quite enough work with the boys, and they’re at school a lot of the time and quite a bit older than your lot.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Eve, ‘but I don’t quite understand – you can’t be old enough to be the mother of a fifteen year old.’
‘Oh no, dear,’ Doris laughed, ‘they’re not mine, they’re Fred’s – I’m their stepmother.’
Eve seemed to remember Grace telling her that Doris and Fred hadn’t been married long and was about to ask a question when she was interrupted by a villager bringing her another gin.
‘Get that down ye,’ he said heartily, ‘thee’ve had a rotten day. I know what it’s like having to give evidence in court, takes it out of ye.’
‘Actually, I didn’t find it too bad,’ said Eve. ‘But thanks for the drink.’
Doris and Fred were deep in an intimate conversation when Eve turned back to the table so she rose and went to talk to Sarah Parker, the publican’s wife, who was standing behind the bar drying glasses.
‘I’ve got you to thank for this,’ Sarah said, with mock reproach, indicating the seething crowd of customers.
‘I would have thought you’d be glad of the business,’ said Eve.
‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am. I just hope we don’t run out of bitter, we’ve not had an evening like this in months. Look, even the Vicar’s here, lurking in his corner, miserable old sod. Don’t mind me, dear, I don’t mean nothing by it; we’re glad of the trade.’
Eve settled on a high stool and chatted to Sarah while her husband dealt with the steady stream of drinkers.
‘No, we’ve not been here long,’ Sarah said in reply to Eve’s questioning. ‘We were landlords of a house in Poplar, a right rough gaff, so we were thrilled to be offered management of this place. What could be better – out in the countryside and away from the Jerry’s bombs? I love it here.’
Eve thought she had found someone with whom she had common ground as soon as she heard Sarah’s cockney accent. They talked for a while about the horror of the Blitz and how wonderful it was to have the respite from the war that the countryside offered.
‘It’s bloody amazing how great it is to be in a place without all that wicked violence constantly going on around you every day and dead people lying around in the street, and people with nowhere to live. And the fires – I’ve always been terrified of fire and when they dropped them incendiaries on the docks I couldn’t stand it no more.’
‘We didn’t see quite so much of the bombing in Shepherds Bush, but it was bad enough. I stopped going down the shelter when the air raid siren sounded. I couldn’t stand being cooped up with all those terrified people for hours in the dark. In the end I stayed in my flat and took my chances,’ said Eve.
‘But it’s still going on, you know.’
‘Yes, but it’s not as bad as it was − since March really. I think Hitler’s turned his attention to other targets.’
‘Yeah. And now we’ve got a murder here – in this quiet little backwater. Who’d have thought it?’
‘I feel the same,’ said Eve. ‘I was involved in this sort of thing in London; helped the police. I never dreamed there’d be a murder here in this quiet spot. Sarah, you must hear a lot of gossip in the pub. Have you ever heard of anyone that’s disappeared from the village, or if there’s anyone here with a criminal record or a violent past? Someone who could be a murderer?’
Apparently Sarah had heard there was a man who’d been released from prison just before the war started, someone middle aged, but she didn’t know who it was or what he’d done. She’d been told that one of Mrs Gough’s boys, she wasn’t sure if it was the one at the Front or the one on the convoys, had been a troublemaker and was always getting into fights, particularly after a pint or two. The Gough boy was constantly down at the police station, in some bother or other, but probably not for much more than a fist fight or a bit of shoplifting. Apparently this was the sort of information that retiring pub landlords pass on to each other, as well as a list of the people who’d been barred from the premises. Fore-warned is fore-armed, as Sarah said.
This being the countryside, the crimes committed locally tended to relate to rural life. Lads stole milk churns from the farmer, or the occasional sheep or goat and sold them in the market in Highston. That sort of thing hadn’t happened since the War began though, because the penalties were now extremely severe, what with all the food shortages and rationing. Sheep rustling was rewarded with more than a slap on the wrist; you were more likely to get a spell in goal. Of course, there weren’t the lads around now to get into mischief – they’d all gone off to the war.
The landlord, Jack Parker, called to his wife as the bar became chaotic, nearing the time for last orders, and he needed her to help him pour drinks. Eve moved away from the bar towards the table where Fred and Doris had been joined by the doctor and his wife. It looked as if they were talking about the body again. Dr Russell’s rather drab wife appeared puzzled.
‘I don’t quite understand where the body came from. Did someone bring a dead body from somewhere else in the country entirely and bury it in our woods. It’s not a place you could take a car to, is it? You’d have to walk up there. And no-one, unless they were very strong indeed, could carry a dead body to the top of that hill.’
‘No, it certainly seems unlikely,’ said the doctor as Eve sat down at the table again. ‘Unless they walked up together and she was killed there.’
‘Then surely it must have been someone from the village?’
‘But it can’t be, my dear, no-one from the village is unaccounted for.’
Eve was facing the table where the twins were sitting and she was sure that Vera stiffened and looked as if she was about to speak. She must have heard every word that was spoken at their table. But at that moment her sister Emily spoke to her. They’d finished their drinks and Emily plainly thought it was time for them to go home to bed and had started to collect her belongings. The pub would be closing soon and everyone would be leaving. As the twins rose to go and they were saying their goodbyes as they weaved between the tables, Vera’s eyes strayed towards Fred with an expression that Eve found hard to fathom. She was beaming her full attention on him as if she wanted to wish him a special goodnight or say something important to him. Eve felt a flutter of sympathy. The poor lovelorn woman, she thought, it looks as if she fancies Fred Gardiner. Not a chance, my love, Eve thought, not now he’s got that lovely young wife to play with.
As the twins turned to leave, Eve saw Vera speak to Doris for a second – it seemed to be something about the baby as she stroked the girl’s stomach briefly in a gesture reminiscent of a blessing. Doris smiled her lovely warm smile, clearly thanking Vera for her concern. When she sat down next to Fred again his mood seemed to have changed and he snapped at his wife.
‘Don’t you think it’s time you went too, Doris? You’ll be tired tomorrow if you don’t.’
Obediently, Doris agreed and left the pub with Eve and Grace a few moments later. Fred, glaring morosely at his beer, practically ignored their farewells and ordered one last pint before closing time forced him to follow his wife home. Eve looked at him thoughtfully. Why had his temper changed so dramatically?