An Air That Kills (23 page)

Part Four

Saturday

Chapter One

The following morning, Charlotte drove Jill to Chandos Lodge. She pulled up beside the green, opposite the Harcutts' gates, leaving the engine running and the wipers squeaking to and fro.

‘Sure you can get back all right?' she asked as Jill was opening the door.

Jill nodded at the bus stop. ‘I just wait there till a bus comes.'

‘I feel terribly guilty about this. But they do like St John's to look its best on Remembrance Sunday, and that means they need all the able bodies they can find. It's like a three-line whip in parliament.'

‘Don't worry, I'll manage.'

‘You won't forget to mention the job, will you? The sooner Antonia applies for it the better.'

Jill said she wouldn't forget and closed the door. Charlotte gave her a regal wave and the Rover pulled away. Jill put up her umbrella and walked up the drive of Chandos Lodge. The front door opened before she got there.

‘I saw you coming from my window,' Antonia said, her sallow skin flushing unbecomingly. ‘Shall we go out straightaway?'

‘Whenever you like.'

‘I'll just get my coat.' She drew back to let Jill into the hall. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her mouth half-open; she looked like a tired rabbit. ‘Horrible weather. Makes me think of funerals, for some reason.'

‘They say November used to be called the month of the dead.' Jill glimpsed a flood of morbid and unanswerable questions welling up in her own mind. How, for example, do you grieve for the nameless, for the unknown soldiers, for people who never had a name in the first place, who were hardly even people? She forced herself to concentrate on the present, not the past, and on the living rather than the dead. ‘How's your father today?'

‘Physically he's much better, but morale's a bit low.'

‘Has he seen yesterday's
Gazette
? There's an article about the bones at Templefields. I brought him a copy.'

For an instant, Antonia's lips twisted as though she had detected an unpleasant taste in her mouth. But she nodded briskly. ‘Thanks, he'll like that.'

‘He's mentioned as an expert on Victorian Lydmouth.'

There was a cough from the stairs, the sort designed to draw attention. A small woman wearing a pinafore was standing on the half-landing, her head alertly cocked in an attitude suggesting that she had been monitoring their conversation; she was carrying a dustpan and brush and her hair was swathed in a turban. Here, Jill thought, was the cleaner Charlotte had referred to as Mrs Thing: she did not usually come in at weekends, but Charlotte had arranged for her to do an extra three hours this morning.

‘Do you want me to do the kitchen now' – there was a barely perceptible pause to mark the absence of the ‘Miss' which might have been tacked on to the question before the war – ‘Antonia?'

‘Yes, please, Mrs Forbes. We'll go out with the poppies in a moment.'

‘Bit late, isn't it? Everyone I know's got theirs by now.'

‘Yes, but it'll stop my father worrying about it. Could you keep an ear open for him while I'm out?'

Mrs Forbes pursed her thin lips. ‘I'll have to go at twelve, come what may. Got to cook our Terry's dinner.'

‘Well, not to worry if we're not back. I expect he'd be able to cope.'

Mrs Forbes stood there, waiting, imperceptibly menacing and saying nothing; and in her silence she conveyed a question or perhaps a demand.

Antonia's shoulders twitched. ‘Oh, sorry. I almost forgot. I'd better give you your money before we go.'

Mrs Forbes advanced down the stairs like a victorious army. ‘I usually have a cup of tea and a fag about now. All right?'

Antonia took a step backwards. ‘Oh, yes, of course.'

Mrs Forbes walked, head back, splay-footed, the mistress of all she surveyed, down the hall, past the door of the major's room and into the kitchen. Antonia said she would fetch her coat, but first she took Jill to see her father.

‘I hope you don't mind,' she whispered.

The room was tidier than Jill had seen it. The major was sitting at his bureau, apparently examining a row of medals which he thrust into a drawer as they entered.

‘Jolly good of you to help with the poppies,' he said. ‘Hell of a responsibility for one person, you know.'

Jill gave him the
Gazette
folded open at the Templefields article. ‘Charlotte thought you might like that.'

He held out a trembling hand for the newspaper and glanced at the first paragraph of the article. ‘Something for the files, eh? Very decent of you to think of me. Mark you, I'm beginning to think I'll never get that book finished. Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it.'

‘I'll just get my hat and coat,' Antonia said, declining to try to boost her father's morale – perhaps, Jill thought, because she had tried and failed too often before.

After the door had closed behind her, Harcutt leant forward. ‘Good of you and Charlotte to take my girl under your wing. Needs taking out of herself, you know.'

Jill smiled and wondered how to change the subject.

‘Shy, you see. Of course, if she came back home, she'd soon fit in again. This is where she belongs, eh? There are school friends and so forth. People like Charlotte and yourself.'

‘But I wasn't at school with her,' Jill pointed out. ‘I'm just visiting Lydmouth.'

‘No – well, that's as maybe. Still, you see my point?'

The door opened and there was Antonia on the threshold, saving Jill from having to answer him. The only point she could see was that he hoped his daughter would come home for good because he was desperate for company.

Antonia picked up the tray of poppies, Jill took the collecting tin and the two women left the house. It was still raining, though not so heavily. Edge Hill, Antonia explained as they trudged down the drive, consisted of the houses near and around the green, together with a new council estate behind the church. She spoke haltingly as though her attention were elsewhere.

‘Are you all right?' Jill asked. ‘Do you feel up to this?'

‘I'm fine. It's just that I didn't sleep very well. Strange bed, I suppose.' Antonia frowned. ‘
Everything
seems strange.'

‘Perhaps you should take something to help you sleep. Ask Dr Bayswater for some tablets.'

‘Perhaps.'

Since it was Saturday morning, and raining, they found many people at home; but, as Mrs Forbes had foretold, most of them already had poppies. One or two of them recognised Antonia but far fewer than Jill had expected.

‘They all know my father,' Antonia said. ‘But I haven't lived here since 1939.' After a pause, she added, ‘And of course I was very different then.'

As they worked their way round the village, the two women carried on a conversation which ebbed and flowed between the houses they called at. They spent five minutes telling each other how awful the weather was.

‘Sometimes,' Antonia said, ‘I think I'd like to go back to Africa. All that sun and blue skies.'

‘When were you out there?'

‘During the war, and just afterwards. My aunt used to live in South Africa, and I stayed with her.'

‘Did your father send you away because of the war?'

‘Partly, I suppose.' Antonia glanced at Jill with murky brown eyes, opaque and mysterious. ‘He was in the army, of course. But in fact I think he was glad of the excuse. After my mother died, he must have found it rather hard to cope with me.'

‘Where did you live?'

‘Johannesburg. Aunt Maud was a nurse at a hospital there. But then she died, and I had to come back to England.'

They were working their way along a row of cottages facing north across the green. Antonia opened the gate of the last cottage, the one nearest the church. Immediately a small white dog scampered down the side of the house, barking furiously.

Antonia retreated, putting the gate between herself and the dog. The front door opened and a tiny woman wearing a white apron appeared on the step. She screamed at the dog, which retreated in its turn.

‘I've already got a poppy,' the woman called to them. ‘You're just wasting your time.'

Antonia nodded and began to move away.

‘Wait a minute. It's Antonia, isn't it? The major's girl?'

‘Yes,' Antonia said.

‘Maggie Forbes said you were back. Remember me? Mrs Veale? Haven't seen you for years. Come here, so I can have a proper look at you.'

The dog watched them with baleful eyes as they opened the gate and came up the path. The rain pattered down on their umbrellas.

‘I won't ask you in, if you don't mind,' Mrs Veale told them. ‘I've just cleaned the floor. You haven't grown much, have you?'

‘Nor have you,' Antonia said, showing more spirit than Jill had credited her with.

‘Come back to look after your dad?'

‘Just for a few days.'

‘I thought you might be back for good. What with his accident and Mrs Forbes leaving.'

Antonia said nothing. She stared at Mrs Veale, and her stillness was unnaturally rigid.

‘Hasn't Maggie told you yet?' The old voice was as sharp as a knife. ‘Her Ernie's coming out of the Merchant Navy after Christmas, and she wants to spend more time at home. And you won't find it easy to get someone else, not for that house. Still, it won't make much odds to you, will it?' The eyes dropped down to Antonia's hands, searching for corroboration in the absence of a ring. ‘Not married, are you?'

‘No.'

‘So it's not as if you've got a husband to look after.' The small, bright blue eyes examined Antonia's face. ‘Don't leave it too long, mind. Or you may find it's too late. I married my John when I was sixteen.'

‘Perhaps I don't want to get married, Mrs Veale.'

‘Of course you do. Every woman does, whatever they say.'

‘We must be getting on.'

Mrs Veale hadn't finished. ‘Wish I could say I was sorry about your dog, but I can't.'

‘She wasn't my dog.'

‘When all's said and done, she was a nasty bit of work. Look at our Freddy's ear. See? The right one – it's all ragged. It was your Milly did that.
And
she was always doing her business on the grass where the children play, either that or on the paths.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that,' Antonia said. ‘Now we really mustn't keep you any longer, Mrs Veale.'

‘And I don't know why your dad won't tell the truth about the accident. Milly was chasing someone, you know, someone on a bike. That's how it happened. And whoever it was had just been talking to your dad by your gates.'

‘How could you tell?' Jill asked. ‘It must have been dark.'

‘I could see well enough. There's streetlights, aren't there, and there were cars passing. Anyway, he cycled quite close, he did. I was standing by the gate, trying to see where Milly was. Didn't want to let Freddy off the lead while that dog was on the loose. If you ask me, that dog of yours wasn't just nasty. It was wrong in the head.'

‘We must be going,' Antonia said. ‘Goodbye.'

She and Jill heard the door closing as they were going down the path. The dog took the sound as a signal to advance on them again.

Jill shut the gate in his face. ‘Now I know why I prefer cats.' She glanced at Antonia and saw that there were drops of water on her face – not rain, but tears. ‘What's wrong? That old beast upset you? I thought you handled her very well.'

‘Sorry.' Antonia sniffed; her nose was pink. ‘She was like that when I was a kid. Always looking for your weak spots.'

Jill wondered which of Antonia's weak spots Mrs Veale had found. Aloud, she said, ‘Best not to pay her any attention.'

Antonia blew her nose. The two women walked towards the church. A moment later, as they were nearing the council houses, Antonia said, ‘Can I ask you something personal?'

‘Of course.'

‘Do
you
want to get married?'

‘No.'

‘Why does everyone think one does? It's not the same for men.'

‘I suppose it's because some people haven't got used to the idea that women can have lives outside their families.'

‘It's none of their business.' Antonia frowned, her dark eyebrows becoming one. ‘I'd hate not having a job.'

‘That reminds me,' Jill said. ‘Charlotte gave me a message for you. Apparently there's a vacancy coming up for a secretary at your old school.'

‘Oh, I see.' Antonia's voice was harsh, and there were spots of colour in her cheeks. ‘You're all in it, aren't you?'

‘In what?'

‘I won't come back to that bloody house. You tell Charlotte that. I'm never going to live in Lydmouth again.'

Chapter Two

Major Harcutt heard the distant thud which signified the closing of the front door. Mrs Forbes liked to make sure that one noticed her comings and goings. He levered himself out of his armchair and, using the back of the sofa as a support, limped slowly to the bureau. He had planned to wait until the evening for the first drink of the day, but this was such a splendid opportunity that it was a shame to waste it.

The key was in his pocket. He unlocked the bureau and pulled the bottle and the glass from behind the stack of books. As he was uncorking the bottle, he heard a tap on the window.

Startled, he looked round. A man in a flat cap was standing outside: he had his hands on either side of his face and he was peering through the glass. The major knew at once that it must be the Meague fellow, though he hadn't seen the man in a good light since he, Meague, was a boy.