Authors: Pamela Oldfield
‘I’m relying on you, Marianne,’ she told her. ‘I shall stay here for a few days to be of help and support to Ivan’s parents and during that time you must keep a watchful eye on my sister. I’m worried about her health and not only her physical problems. One of our aunts died of melancholia – it was terrible. She took her own life – there’s no other way to say it.’
‘Good heavens! How sad!’ Marianne was genuinely shocked.
‘It was. She threw herself off a bridge. Very nasty – a truly terrible way to go – and she was only twenty-one. Georgina and I were quite young at the time but we heard about it as we grew up.’ Ida glanced back towards the dining room but seeing no one within hearing distance she went on. ‘I have to ask you something. Have you ever seen the inside of Neil’s room? The door seems to be permanently locked and I fear the worst. She idolized that boy. Absolutely idolized him. I imagine she has preserved the room exactly as it was when he was . . . unattached.’
Marianne’s mind seemed to move at a snail’s pace as she considered how best to answer Ida’s question. It would be foolish to reveal that Lorna had shown her the room because that would not reflect well on herself or on Lorna, but if she pretended to know nothing about it . . . She frowned. Perhaps it was important for Ida to know the truth.
She would have to lie, she decided. Or rather, deliver a series of half-truths.
‘I did see inside the room once,’ she said. ‘The door was open and it was being cleaned. Lorna was brushing the carpet . . .’ She threw out her hands in a gesture that meant ‘nothing of importance’.
Ida’s eyes narrowed. ‘And?’ she encouraged, waiting for more. ‘You haven’t answered my question, have you?’
Marianne said, ‘No.’ She hesitated.
‘What aren’t you telling me, Marianne? I’m trusting you to be frank with me. We both, I’m sure, have my sister’s welfare at heart.’
Marianne drew a deep breath. ‘There’s a sort of altar in there. I expect that’s where Mrs Matlowe . . . The thing is that she never goes to church so she probably prays there . . .’
Ida’s mouth fell open with surprise. ‘Never goes to church? What are you saying? Of course she goes to church!’
‘What I mean is . . .’ She was flustered. ‘I mean that some people do like to pray in private . . . and maybe the altar makes her feel closer to God.’ She realized it sounded lame.
Ida pounced. ‘Some people do, do they?’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘I assume so.’
‘You’re saying that my sister no longer attends church? Since when?’
‘Never since I’ve been with her.’
Ida, finally and reluctantly convinced, shook her head. ‘This is very worrying. I hope she isn’t becoming obsessed with death. She’s never been the same since Neil’s marriage to Leonora. Not that I disliked her, because I couldn’t – she was a lovely girl – and because she made Neil so happy . . .’ For a moment her eyes filled with tears but she quickly produced a handkerchief and dabbed them away. ‘Poor Georgina was convinced that Leonora would take Neil back to America forever. She thought the young woman was trying to drive a wedge between her and Neil. It was sheer panic on her part.’
‘And when she disappeared?’
‘I think in her heart of hearts Georgina blamed herself and I daresay Neil also blamed her. I saw a change in her – in Georgina, I mean. She became very withdrawn – introverted possibly. Didn’t spend much time with the twins. Then fell out with the family’s nanny and sent her away. Hired a replacement and then later decided it was time for a governess. The first one didn’t suit and then you arrived.’ She smiled briefly. ‘She trusts you, Marianne, and that’s why I’m enlisting your help. I want you to promise that if you see any further signs of what I shall call “unresolved grief”, or deterioration of her mental state . . .’
Marianne, now feeling guilty, opened her mouth to protest but Ida ignored her obvious reluctance and went on regardless.
‘. . . or increased melancholia, you will notify me at once. A missing daughter-in-law and a dead son are quite enough to throw most people out of kilter and my poor sister is no exception.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Marianne told her, trying to ignore the feelings of disloyalty. She was well and truly caught in the centre of the intrigue but could see no way out of it.
‘I don’t want another tragedy, Marianne. I don’t want her to follow our aunt’s example. You are in a good position to help me avert one. Georgina will miss me. She finds me overbearing but . . .’
‘Oh I’m sure she doesn’t!’
‘She does but she’s always drawn strength from me without understanding that she does it. She has always been the same. She was bullied at school on one occasion and I found her in tears in the cloakroom. I soon sorted things out for her. She rarely asks me for help but that’s because I act on her behalf before she needs to ask.’ She patted Marianne’s arm. ‘Do you have any sisters?’
Marianne shook her head. ‘I’ve an older brother in India.’
‘India? Not much use to you there, is he!’ Frowning, she forced her thoughts back to the matter of her sister. ‘As long as you understand the situation, Marianne. I’m relying on you. Please don’t let me down.’
Marianne lay in bed that night tossing and turning and wondering how her life had suddenly become so complicated. Her job as a governess, apparently so straightforward, had now developed complications. The past was impinging on the present in an uncomfortable way, leaving her loyalties in some disarray. Her first duty must be toward the twins, who were in her care for much of each day and who deserved her full attention.
Donald Watson, however, considered her his eyes and ears within the Matlowe household and she could plainly see that uncovering past events would probably seriously affect the children’s lives in the future. The suspicion that someone had killed Leonora, if proved, would certainly have a most damaging effect on those closest to the twins and would indirectly affect their own attitude to life as they grew older. If it turned out that Neil, their father, had killed his wife, Emmie and Edie would surely grow up full of insecurities. Discovering that Leonora had been buried beneath the roses would be a nightmare for them – one from which they might never recover.
Maybe, she thought unhappily, it would have been better if Richard Preston had not come to England in search of the truth. Not knowing what happened to his sister might have been a better option for the Preston family.
And now, on top of everything else, Ida had recruited her to watch for signs that Georgina might be sliding into a state of melancholy – a state of mind that had prompted one of her aunts to throw herself off a bridge!
Marianne liked Ida. She found her refreshingly honest and full of commonsense and was quite willing to help her by watching Georgina. Were the altar and the constant prayers a sign of this inherited weakness or simply a defence against any unhappy or guilty thoughts she might have? There was no way of knowing. Thank heavens that so far the twins showed no sign of a similar tendency – both girls being of a lively, cheerful disposition. But how long would that continue if their grandmother became seriously morose and introspective? Living in The Poplars, the twins’ view of the world was a very limited one. They might be better off with the Preston family in America . . .
Sighing, her mind too active, Marianne turned on to her right side, drew up her knees and tried not to think, but it was impossible. Wide awake and full of uneasy thoughts, she slid out of bed and crossed the room, to take a look in on the children sleeping in the next room. Emmie lay straight and calm in her bed, her face pale and untroubled in the moonlight. Edie lay among the twisted bedclothes in an untidy heap, her face scrunched up, her long hair tousled on the pillow.
‘Two little sisters,’ Marianne whispered. Innocent children whose lives might already be unravelling around them. She whispered a little prayer for their survival as she went slowly back to her own room.
The warrant for the exploratory dig was issued and various preparations were made to ensure that no one was in the house when the police arrived to dig up the rose bed.
To Georgina’s disgust, the hospital tests would take up most of the day and they insisted they must keep her in overnight. Ida had then arranged to collect her the next morning and take them out to lunch. Afterwards they would spend time in the shops in Regent Street, possibly followed by a visit to a theatre matinee. Ida was wrongly convinced that, despite her sister’s protests, she was actually looking forward to these delights.
The day of the hospital appointment dawned cool but dry and Ida arrived promptly at eight thirty to escort her sister to the hospital. While Georgina was pretending to make last-minute preparations for the short stay in hospital (but was actually locked in Neil’s room, praying) Richard waited further along the street as Marianne helped the children into their clothes.
Cook and Lorna carried on as usual, unaware that they were going to be given the rest of the day off as soon as their mistress had departed. Marianne, watching from an upstairs window, saw Richard Preston further up the road, wearing a hat that shaded his eyes. He was talking to a man she recognized as Donald Watson and she hoped that Mrs Matlowe would not glance their way as she passed them – but presumably they would be prepared and would turn away as she passed by.
She guessed that the neighbours would be full of curiosity, as they had been warned of police activity in the back garden although they had been given very few details, but the Brannigans, much to their dismay, had already arranged a week’s holiday on the Isle of Wight so would be away from the vicinity and would miss the excitement.
Ida called Georgina down. She arrived with a small holdall, looking flustered and ill at ease.
Ida held up a warning hand. ‘A quick goodbye to the twins, dear,’ she urged Georgina. ‘I don’t want to keep the driver waiting. He’s an irritable man and won’t take kindly to being kept waiting.’
Georgina turned to Marianne. ‘Take care of the children, Marianne. I don’t care for the seaside visit but you must see that they come to no harm. I shall be back some time during the evening tomorrow as Ida insists on taking us to the theatre.’ She tried to smile at the prospect of a hospital visit followed by a day’s outing with her sister but failed. ‘More for her sake than mine!’ she added irritably. ‘I have never been a great theatre fan.’
Marianne smiled. ‘We’ll take good care of the girls,’ she assured her.
Georgina leaned towards her and whispered, ‘Remember what I told you. Don’t let them out of your sight for a moment. I don’t trust him.’
‘I promise you, hand on heart!’ Marianne insisted in a low voice, with an unhappy sense of betrayal. If she was honest with herself, she felt sorry for her employer and understood her anxiety. The worry over her heart problem had obviously raised the suspicion in the older woman’s mind that, if she were found to be dangerously at risk from a heart attack, Richard might apply to the courts for permission to take them back to the Preston family, using her medical condition as justification for their removal.
Minutes later she hurried into the kitchen and told the staff they could have the rest of the day off.
‘Are you sure it’s all right for us to go?’ Cook said dubiously. ‘I mean, suppose Madam finds out – what then?’
Lorna lingered nearby, equally anxious.
Marianne gave them the answer they had rehearsed. ‘It’s Mr Preston’s idea, not mine. His shoulders are broad! If she does find out, he’s going to take all the blame. And anyway it’s only for today. You’ll be back tomorrow so why should she guess that you had a few hours off today?’
‘We-ell, if you’re sure it will be all right.’ Cook glanced at Lorna. ‘Let’s go then!’
Lorna gave a little whoop of excitement and five minutes later they, too, had left the house. Marianne leaned from the front room window and waved to the two men who were still waiting further along the road as arranged.
Richard Preston hurried to collect Marianne and the twins. He had hired a motor car for the day and they were off to Margate to sample the delights of the seaside. With squeals of excitement, the twins scrambled into the back seat and Marianne slipped the front door key under the flowerpot where Donald Watson would find it.
The twins chattered non-stop as the car set off on its journey. There was no picnic basket as their uncle had promised to take them to a special place that sold fish and chips and they would have ice creams and buy buckets and spades.
‘We’re going to paddle in the water!’ Emmie chortled, ‘and maybe find a crab!’
‘Or a starfish! And make sandcastles!’
They were unaware that their grandmother would spend the day in hospital. No one had seen any good reason to give them cause for concern. Richard was determined they would have fun and Marianne had decided not to dwell on what was happening back at The Poplars. She knew how difficult the day would be for Richard Preston but was eager to distract him from the gruesome thoughts of what might be found below the roses.
Under an overcast sky, the small police team went to work with well-oiled efficiency and the Barneses, watching from next door, found it fascinating – a bit of excitement to enliven their somewhat routine daily lives. From time to time they glanced upwards at the cloudy sky, fearing that a sudden shower might muddy the well-orchestrated proceedings and leave tell-tale traces, but it stayed fine.
Donald and DS Ackrow watched anxiously as tarpaulins were carried round the side of the house, across the lawn and laid carefully around the edges of the rose bed. A wooden crate was brought out and the four rose bushes were carefully eased from the soil with a garden fork and then lifted into the wooden crate, each complete with a mass of root soil. Every care was taken with them – it would look very odd if the roses began to wither as soon as they were replaced.
‘I don’t know what to hope for,’ Donald remarked to the DS. ‘Finding nothing will only extend the agony of the investigation, but finding a body will cause huge distress for Richard Preston. He gives an impression of confidence but he’s quite young for his age.’