Read The Judgement of Strangers Online
Authors: Andrew Taylor
Tags: #Mystery, #Thriller, #Historical
Jeevons stared down his long nose at me. ‘What do you mean, exactly?’
‘There were two plain-clothes policemen already at the house,’ I went on, trying to conceal my irritation. ‘They had found something – drugs? – in Toby Clifford’s car. They were arresting him.’
‘It’s a separate enquiry,’ said Jeevons, his voice suddenly formal and precise as though he were in a witness box. ‘The officers were from the drug squad. They discovered a considerable amount of heroin concealed in Mr Clifford’s car, and also some cannabis in the house.’
‘Someone must have told them where to look.’
Jeevons said nothing.
‘Toby accused Rosemary – my daughter.’
‘So I understand, sir.’
It was typical of Toby to store his heroin in the Jaguar, typical of him to allow Michael to play in the car. But the fact that Toby had accused Rosemary could only mean that she knew about the location of the cache. Had he tried to introduce her to heroin, as he had introduced others? I remembered the day Rosemary had run upstairs into the bathroom.
‘Can heroin make you sick? Physically vomit, I mean?’
Jeevons frowned. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because there was one time that Rosemary came back in quite a state after seeing Toby. She acted very oddly. She was sick.’
‘First-time users often are sick.’
‘So that’s how she knew where he kept the stuff.’ I stared at Jeevons, and suddenly I knew that I was only partly right. ‘But it wasn’t Rosemary who tipped you off, was it? It was Joanna Clifford.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t comment on that.’
He didn’t need to comment. His face confirmed what I had thought. Joanna must have phoned the police soon after we parted. Probably she had also unlocked the car to make it easy for the police. Joy stabbed me, just for an instant, and I winced with the pain of it: the pain of knowing that she did care for me, that she had been prepared to fight her addiction and face up to her brother; the pain of knowing that she believed we might have a future.
‘What’s happened to her? Joanna, I mean?’
Jeevons looked at me, and I sensed that he was puzzled. ‘Miss Clifford? She’s gone to London to stay with an aunt. We drove her there last night. Why?’
‘I – I’m glad she’s with her family. This must be a very terrible time for her.’
He was still staring at me. ‘Quite so.’
‘I must see my wife. And then I must see the children.’
‘That’s all right, sir. We’ll need to talk to you again, later. We’ve got a suitcase with some clothes for you in the car. Your daughter packed it.’
‘My daughter …’ I echoed.
Jeevons stood up. ‘I’ll make sure someone brings up the case. Then you can see your wife and go home. We’ll give you a lift back to Roth.’
I stood up as well.
I don’t want to see my wife, I don’t want to go home. All I want is Joanna, you stupid man.
Aloud I said, ‘Thank you, Inspector.’
Vanessa was still unconscious when I left the hospital early in the afternoon. Before I saw her, I had an interview with the consultant.
‘She’s still in a coma,’ he said. ‘But that’s hardly surprising. You have to remember that your wife’s survived a drowning, and that’s more than most people do.’
‘Surely she should have come out of the coma by now?’
‘It’s early days yet. We’re hoping she’ll wake up soon. Could be any time.’
‘But if she does wake up, will there be brain damage?’
He looked at me, his face professionally wary. ‘I’m afraid we couldn’t possibly say. Not at this point.’
As the car drew up in the Vicarage drive, the front door opened and Rosemary ran out. I kissed her, and she clung to me in a way she had not done since she was a little girl.
‘How’s Michael?’
She pulled herself away from me. ‘He’s still at the Vintners’. He spent the night there.’
‘They told me.’
‘I stayed with the Potters. Mrs Potter’s here now.’
I looked past Rosemary. Doris was standing in the doorway. She had an expression on her face which I had never seen before. Concern? Shock? Sadness? It was none of those things. As I was walking towards her I realized suddenly what it was: Doris was scared.
Later that afternoon, I went to collect Michael from the Vintners. James was working. Mary asked us all to supper, but I declined. Brian and Michael were playing Monopoly in the sitting room and barely seemed to notice my arrival.
‘He can stay if he likes,’ Mary murmured. ‘He’s no trouble.’
Perhaps Michael heard. He looked up at me. ‘Are we going now?’
‘You can stay here with the Vintners if you want. They’ve very kindly invited you.’
He got to his feet and hauled up his jeans, which had slithered down his narrow hips. ‘I’ll come with you, if that’s OK.’ He looked at Mary, his face serious. ‘Thank you for having me.’
When he and I were walking back to the Vicarage, I tried to talk to him but he answered in monosyllables. We crossed the main road and came to the gate to the churchyard. A few yards further on would bring us to the Vicarage.
‘Uncle David?’
I stopped. ‘What?’
Michael looked up at me and began to speak. Then three lorries trundled by, nose to tail, their engines so loud I could not hear what he was saying. I took him by the arm and led him into the churchyard. We walked round to the bench by the south porch. I sat down and Michael followed suit. It was only then that I remembered that Audrey had presented the church with this bench in memory of her parents. I wanted to stand up and run away from it, but I could not for Michael’s sake.
‘I haven’t told the police,’ he said in a voice so low I could hardly hear. ‘I thought I should tell you first.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘I was playing near the garden fence. The fence near Carter’s Meadow. Brian had gone to the lavatory … I saw her, when she lit the match and dropped it in the box. There was a huge flame … I saw her face.’
‘Whose face?’
He stared up at me and there were tears in his eyes. ‘Rosemary’s.’
I said nothing. The tears were rolling down his cheeks now and his lips trembled. I put my arm round his shoulders, which seemed very small and fragile.
‘I looked for you,’ he went on. ‘But you weren’t there.’
I was with Joanna
. I touched Michael’s hand, which was gripping the edge of the seat. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘There’s more. Worse.’
‘Go on.’
He began to shiver. ‘I didn’t see what happened to Aunt Vanessa. But I heard it. I heard her falling in.’ He had stopped crying now, but his whole body was trembling.
I felt a spasm of pure anger – directed at myself, at God – that Michael should have had to witness this. I said, ‘Where were you?’
‘Near the pool – behind that little hut thing. We were playing detectives, you see. Shadowing people. Brian was following you and Toby. I was watching Miss Oliphant.’
‘
Miss Oliphant
. Where was she?’
‘Under the copper beech. It was raining. I think everyone else was inside. She – she was … sort of snuffling.’
‘Crying?’
‘I don’t know.’ He wriggled: the idea of adults crying made him uncomfortable in a way that arson and assault did not. ‘Maybe. I didn’t dare move or she’d see me. And then Aunt Vanessa came out of the house with an umbrella. She came down to the pool and started calling Audrey’s name. Miss Oliphant went all quiet. I think Aunt Vanessa went to look for her in the hut. I couldn’t see. But then Rosemary came running over the lawn and down the steps to the pool.’
I gave him my handkerchief. He blew his nose.
‘Michael?’ My voice emerged as a whisper. ‘What happened next? Did you see?’
‘No. I
heard
.’
For a moment we sat in silence. I did not want him to go on. The church clock began to chime. It was six o’clock.
‘There were voices near the pool,’ Michael said slowly. ‘No, just one. Aunt Vanessa’s. “No, don’t be so stupid.” That’s what she said. And then there was a sort of gasp, and a splash.’
‘But Audrey –’
‘I
told
you –
she
was under the tree. I couldn’t see her well, but I know it was her. And then she ran off
towards
the swimming pool.’
‘After the splash? After you heard the voices near the pool? Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you?’
‘I – I went off.’ His face was chalk-white, except for his eyes, which were red-rimmed and huge. ‘She started screaming … I – I thought I’d look for you. I went down to Carter’s Meadow but you weren’t there.’
‘Toby and I had come back to the house a different way.’
‘And then … she was still screaming. And you came with Brian’s dad.’
‘You did well.’
With the arm which was around his small body, I pulled him gently towards me and he laid his head against my chest. He started to cry again.
Not for long, though. For a while, we sat there side by side on the bench, not moving, not speaking; and I stared into the porch at the notice board to the left of the door where Rosemary had displayed the mutilated corpse of Lord Peter.
On the night Vanessa died, the world turned white outside the hospital window. I sat and prayed until it was light enough to see the broad lawn and the black tangle of the trees along the main road. I looked out of the window at the view that Vanessa had never seen: at a landscape that belonged in a fairy tale. I was still there when Peter Hudson came to fetch me.
The sister understood hierarchy and enjoyed having a bishop on the premises. She fluttered around him, trying to anticipate wishes which did not exist. When at last she left us alone with Vanessa, Peter patted my shoulder. The amethyst in his episcopal ring caught the light: a stab of purple fire.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Pneumonia?’
I nodded. ‘It was always the danger. If you’re in a coma you can’t cough, you see, you can’t get rid of the phlegm. Apparently that’s what usually carries them off. Broncho-pneumonia.’
All meaningless. Words to ward off the evil spirits. How could I tell Peter what really mattered? That Vanessa’s breath had rattled and wheezed. That it sounded like a mechanical contrivance, not human at all: like a clockwork toy winding down almost imperceptibly.
‘The sister tells me you’ve been here for nearly forty-eight hours.’
‘She lasted longer than everyone thought she would.’ My eyes filled with tears and shamefully they were for myself. ‘Do you know, I thought perhaps she might wake up before she died? Say something. Or even just move. But she didn’t, of course. She just stopped breathing.’
Suddenly there had been the shock of silence. The machine had stopped. What mattered most of all was the emptiness: the sense of departure. While Vanessa had been in a coma, I had thought of her as being effectively dead; but now I knew that I had been wrong.
Peter turned and stared at the figure on the bed. His lips moved. Neither of us spoke for a moment. Her skin was pale and waxen. Her mouth was open. I hoped desperately that part of her somewhere, somehow, was still alive.
‘Come along,’ he said. ‘It’s time to leave now. Say goodbye.’
I stooped and kissed my wife’s forehead.
The hotel was a Tudor mansion near Egham. At the end of its truncated garden, the ground rose to a snow-covered ramp. Beyond the ramp was a motorway, the one which cut through my former parish a few miles to the east.
In the dining room, we had a table by the window overlooking the garden. Because of the snow, the room was lit by a clear light, so cool it was almost blue. Peter ordered cooked breakfast for both of us.
‘I’m not hungry,’ I said when the waitress had gone.