Authors: Margaret Dickinson
‘Now, just what are you up to?’ Maddie said aloud and then she realized. He was probably looking for Nick to talk to him about his mother. After all, Nick was her relative, not
Maddie. She was about to pull the door open again and step out into the yard to tell him that his searching the barn was fruitless, that Nick was in the fields, when she heard Harriet’s cries
from upstairs. ‘Maddie, oh Maddie. Come quickly.’
Clicking her tongue against her teeth in exasperation, Maddie closed the door and ran lightly up the stairs, ‘I’m coming, Mrs Trowbridge, I’m coming.’
Harriet was hanging over the edge of the bed, retching into the chamber pot. Maddie put the palm of her hand against the woman’s forehead, smoothing the grey hair out of the way. The skin
felt clammy to her touch and when the exhausted woman lay back against the pillows once more, Maddie could see the perspiration glistening on her face, now drained of all its natural colour that
had been replaced by a strange tinge of yellow.
‘What – what did he say?’ Harriet asked weakly.
Touching her hand, Maddie said gently, ‘You’re to go into hospital. I’m to pack a few things for you . . .’
‘No, no, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. Nick can look after me, if I’m too much trouble to you.’
‘Oh Mrs T,’ Maddie said. Feeling guilty now because she had, at first, been irritated by the woman’s illness, she used the pet name that Michael had always used.
‘You’re no trouble to me. But it’s for the best. They’ll find out what’s wrong with you and . . .’
‘I don’t want to go.’ Her voice was rising hysterically. ‘I won’t go. You just want to get rid of me so you can have this place to yourself.’
‘That’s not true. You know we can’t manage without you. Any of us.’
Harriet was sobbing now. ‘Oh little Adam. I shan’t see him again.’
‘Don’t upset yourself, Mrs Trowbridge. We’ll come to visit you and I’ll bring Adam.’
She was reaching out, clasping Maddie’s hand. ‘You will? You promise?’
‘Of course I do.’
She seemed to relax a little and later, as she and Nick watched the ambulance drive away down the lane carrying Harriet to the cottage hospital in the town, Maddie thought how sad it was that
her thoughts in that moment of crisis had been not for her own son, but for Adam.
Not for the first time, did Maddie feel a stab of pity for Nick Trowbridge.
‘How is she?’
They were standing in the hospital corridor, the three of them, Maddie, Nick and Adam, too, looking, for once, solemn faced.
The sister shook her head. ‘No change, I’m afraid,’ then added with an encouraging smile, ‘but it’s early days yet.’
‘Can we see her?’ Nick asked.
‘Of course. But only two at a time and I would ask you to stay no longer than half an hour. She is very weak.’
‘Thank you,’ Maddie began to move towards the ward at the end of the corridor.
‘Excuse me asking . . .’ Maddie turned back to look at her as the sister nodded towards the brown bag Maddie was carrying. ‘Is that a change of clothing for her?’
‘Well, yes, partly. A clean nightdress and hankies, but I’ve brought a few eggs and some pasties . . .’
The sister’s mouth pursed and she shook her head again. ‘I’ll take the clothes, but I must ask you to take any food back home. Mrs Trowbridge is to have only the diet the
doctor has prescribed for her. He gave strict instructions that she was to be allowed no food at all to be brought in to her.’
Nick tried a weak smile. ‘Not even grapes?’
But the sister was unsmiling. ‘Nothing. The doctor was most specific about it.’
‘Well, I can understand that,’ Maddie said at once. ‘Obviously, it’s all part of trying to find out what’s causing her sickness.’ She smiled. ‘But
you’re welcome to the eggs, Sister, and the pasties, if you can make good use of them.’
She saw the woman hesitate and smooth the palms of her hands down her white apron. She ran her tongue around her lips before she said, almost reluctantly, ‘Thank you, Mrs – er . .
.’
‘Brackenbury,’ Maddie supplied.
‘Mrs Brackenbury, but I’d better not.’
Adam was moving away down the corridor, anxious to find the woman who had always looked after him whilst Maddie was working. She was like a grandmother to him.
‘You go,’ Maddie said to Nick. ‘You and Adam go in first and then send him out after ten minutes or so and I’ll come in. You stay with your mother all the time
we’re allowed.’
Nick smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sure she’d rather have Adam all the time than either of us.’
‘Go on,’ Maddie pushed his shoulder gently. ‘Go on with you.’
When they arrived back at Few Farm after that first visit, they found Jenny pacing the yard.
‘There you are. I was just about to give up and go home. Have you seen her? How is she?’ Though she asked the usual question, Maddie could see at once that there was more than just
her concern for Harriet troubling Jenny.
‘Come on inside and I’ll make us all a pot of tea.’
‘Don’t bother for me, I must start the generator up else we’ll have no electricity by morning,’ Nick said.
‘Can I go to the village on me bike, Mam?’ Adam asked. ‘To see Donald?’
‘Who’s Donald?’
‘Donald Fisher. He’s just come to live in the village and started our school.’
‘All right but be home by six o’clock. You hear?’
‘Yes, Mam.’
‘And change into your old trousers first. I don’t want you ruining your best pair.’
‘Yes, Mam,’ they heard him shout as his feet pounded up the stairs.
Maddie smiled at Jenny. ‘Looks like it’s just you and me for tea, then.’
Jenny nodded and Maddie couldn’t help noticing that the girl looked relieved.
The reason became obvious as soon as they sat down on either side of the kitchen table with cups of tea in front of them.
‘I’m glad I’ve got you on your own,’ Jenny began when Adam had gone hurtling out of the yard gate on his bicycle. ‘There – there’s something I’ve
got to tell you.’
‘Oh dear,’ Maddie said lightly, trying to take some of the worried look from Jenny’s face. ‘Not expecting, are you?’
Jenny gasped and her mouth dropped open. ‘No, I’m not,’ she retorted indignantly.
‘Well, don’t make it sound as if it’s the worst crime in the world,’ Maddie said and could not keep the trace of bitterness from her tone as she added, ‘I’m
sure Steven wouldn’t desert you.’
‘No, I don’t think he would,’ Jenny replied quietly. ‘But it’s not that. It’s – it’s about you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. There’s gossip in the village about – about Mrs Trowbridge’s illness.’
Maddie shook her head, baffled. ‘What about it?’
‘That – that it’s like Mr Frank had.’
‘We know that.’
‘They’re saying that it could be that – I mean . . .’
‘Oh for Heaven’s sake, Jen, spit it out. Just what are the old busybodies saying?’
Now the words came out in a rush. ‘That you’re poisoning her. That you poisoned Mr Frank to get the farm and now you’re trying to get rid of Mrs Trowbridge. Everybody knows the
two of you have never got on.’
‘I – am –
what
?’ Maddie was horrified that anyone could even think such a thing, let alone voice it aloud.
‘Maddie, I’m sorry. But I thought you ought to know . . .’ Her voice trailed away into a whisper.
‘Oh I ought to know, all right.’ Maddie stood up as if she would confront the gossipmongers there and then. ‘Who’s saying these things, who’s . . .?’
‘Maddie, just sit down and listen, will you?’
Frowning, her mouth pouting, Maddie reluctantly lowered herself into the chair again. ‘How do the village folk know we don’t get on, unless someone’s told them? Mrs Trowbridge
doesn’t mix with any of them and I’ve certainly never said anything.’ She glared at Jenny, who said defensively, ‘Well, it wasn’t me. But there’s several people
who know. They’ve long memories, village folk, and it was common knowledge when you first came to the farm. Folk used to get their milk and eggs and butter from here then, don’t
forget.’
‘Mrs Trowbridge has always said that.’
‘What?’
‘That the villagers have got long memories. Seems she was right.’
Jenny was frowning now. ‘There’s a lot more to it than you and me know, Maddie. Even Mrs Grange keeps hinting at secrets and scandals from long ago, but she’ll never really
tell me what she’s on about.’
‘Have you asked her?’
‘Not – not really.’
Grimly, Maddie said, ‘Then maybe it’s time you did.’
Because of Jenny’s warning, it was not such a shock to Maddie when PC Parsons wobbled up the yard on his bicycle, dismounted and leant it against the wall of the
house.
‘You there, young Maddie?’ He opened the back door and walked into the wash-house without waiting for an invitation.
He’d always called her that from her days at the Home. He wasn’t the sort of man to alter his ways just because she was now twenty-seven and he close to retiring age.
‘At the moment, I am,’ she said, opening the kitchen door. ‘Come away in. Cup of tea?’
He eyed her over the spectacles he wore, as he removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. ‘I don’t think I will just now. Thank you.’
He manoeuvred his bulk around the kitchen table and followed her into the living room where he placed his helmet on the table and sat down.
Coming straight to the point, as was his way, he said, ‘There’s nasty rumours going around the village, lass, that you’ve not been as careful as you might have been with
washing your hands after dealing with weedkiller and rat poison and such-like on the farm before you serve up the dinner.’
Maddie stared at him. A cheeky retort sprang to her lips, but although he had broached the subject in a half-comical way, his expression was very serious. This was not a laughing matter and she
would serve herself no purpose by treating his visit in a jocular manner.
Holding his gaze, Maddie said calmly, ‘I’m always very careful, Mr Parsons, about such things. And I very rarely touch the weedkiller or the rat poison. That’s Nick’s
job.’
‘You suggesting that it’s Nicholas who is poisoning his mother?’
Now Maddie was getting angry, but she managed to keep her voice level as she said, ‘I’m suggesting that neither of us is doing any such thing.’
‘Well, someone is. The doctor’s tests show that she has a high level of arsenic in her system.’
Maddie gasped and knew that the colour fled from her face. She was helpless to stop it as the policeman continued relentlessly. ‘But you do have arsenic on the farm, don’t you? Dr
Battison saw it for himself in the barn.’
Speechless with shock now, Maddie’s thoughts were reeling. This was a nightmare. An horrific dream. She would wake up any minute to hear Harriet banging on her bedroom door to wake her up.
It had to be. It couldn’t really be happening.
She was suddenly cold and shivering. It was all too terribly real.
‘Mam, Mam . . .’ Adam was bursting in through the back door. ‘Donald’s dad won’t let him play with me any more. He ses . . .’ The boy stopped short as he saw
the policeman sitting at the table, then, his gaze still on PC Parsons, he sidled to his mother to stand beside her.
Maddie put her arms about him. She forced herself to speak, but her voice was a hoarse whisper as she said, ‘Adam, go and find Nick for me, will you?’
The boy sped away, pleased, she guessed, to escape.
PC Parsons was nodding sagely. ‘I expect that Donald’s father’s heard the rumours an’ all.’
Maddie stared at him. ‘Are you arresting me?’ she asked bluntly.
‘No,’ he said, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he added, ‘Not at the moment. But I would like you to come down to the station with me and make a full
statement.’
‘What on earth about? I’ve told you, I . . .’
‘Well, to answer questions then. We want some answers, Mrs Brackenbury.’
Now Maddie knew real fear. It was the first time ever that the friendly PC Parsons had ever called her by her surname.
But PC Parsons was no longer being friendly.
In her wildest nightmares, Maddie had never thought to find herself in a prison cell. The tiny square room brought back the claustrophobia of the cupboard beneath the stairs
that Mrs Potter had used as her own particular prison cell for wrongdoers. But in there Maddie had been able to hear the sounds of the other girls, of the household going about its routine.
Everyone took their turn in the cupboard and everyone knew that soon they would be released.
But now, Maddie had no such reassurance. Here she could hear nothing of the world beyond the heavy door and the thick walls and had no idea what was to happen to her.
They had questioned her for four hours in the police station in Wellandon. Even PC Parson’s police house in Eastmere had not been official enough. She had been arrested, cautioned and
brought to the town in a police car, driven through the village for all to see. And when the questioning got them nowhere, they locked her in a cell where she spent a cold and sleepless night.
A cold-eyed detective sergeant interviewed her, walking around her whilst she sat at the table and a young detective constable, sitting opposite her, took notes.
‘Why did you do it, Brackenbury?’ Gone was any pretence at politeness. Now she was a suspected criminal.
‘I didn’t.’
‘Thought you would inherit all his money and the tenancy of his farm?’ He thrust his face close to hers. ‘And you did, didn’t you?’
Helpless against his reasoning, which, even to her ears, sounded plausible, Maddie was silent.
‘And now you want to rid yourself of his housekeeper. You’ve never got on, the two of you, have you?’
‘I haven’t done anything,’ she protested. ‘Not to Frank nor to Mrs Trowbridge.’
He strolled around behind her, his closeness making every nerve in her body tingle. Slowly he came around to stand facing her, then he leant on his hands on the table, towering over her.
‘How did you do it, eh? So that you didn’t poison everyone in the household.’
‘I didn’t have anything to do with the meals before Mrs Trowbridge was taken ill.’