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Authors: Maureen Reynolds

Private Sorrow, A (37 page)

BOOK: Private Sorrow, A
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‘No she doesn’t. I want to come with you.’

So they had sneaked out of the house, picked up the suitcase from the office and boarded the train to another life. Luckily, her dad had put the left luggage ticket in his pocket and Lenny had his train ticket in the suitcase. It was just a small matter of buying a train ticket to Edinburgh for Etta and they bought another one for London when they arrived there.

Dad was annoyed he had lost his treasured watch but it was a small price to pay for Etta’s safety. The fact that Lenny was wearing it made her mother identify the body as Dave’s. Once they had read this news and found out that Etta was presumed a runaway, they knew the truth would stay hidden.

The baby was never born. A couple of weeks into their new life, Etta suffered a miscarriage. Dad said it was probably the stress and shock of Lenny’s death. That was another blessing because she knew she would have made a rotten mother.

The farm had been good for both of them. Mrs Chalmers was a bit older than Dad, but she was very good to Etta and they got along quite well. Then Dad married her but a little while later she died unexpectedly, and they were pleased to find she had left her farm to them.

65

Molly went to see Vera to return the photographs. She was sitting looking through the album when Molly arrived and she slotted them neatly back into their spaces. ‘I had a happy childhood on the farm, but Robina always frightened me. She was much older than me and I think she resented me when I was born. She used to hit me when Mum and Dad weren’t looking, until the day Dad saw her and told her to go and look for lodgings. That’s when she went to work for the convent. Of course, that made her hate me all the more.’

Molly didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent. ‘Etta told me she was full of remorse at hitting you, Molly, but she did think you were a burglar.’

Molly nodded but didn’t believe a word of it. Etta had known what she was doing all right. Molly felt so sorry for Vera, though. She had found her daughter only to lose her again. ‘You did a good job in finding Etta, Dave and Robina. To think they were all living near at hand and I never knew. Still, I’m planning to go and see Etta when she gets settled in her new cottage. She gave me the address.’

She showed Molly the piece of paper and Molly agreed. ‘That’s what you should do and through time, you can both build up your relationship again. It will just take time.’

Molly didn’t want to stay, as Vera looked like she wanted to be alone with her thoughts of what might have been. She had been dealt a triple bad hand with the deaths of her sister and husband and Etta not wanting to stay with her. ‘Vera, Deanna, who works at the agency, is in a play at the Rep theatre. We were all thinking of going to see her on Saturday night and I wondered if you would like to come along? It’s a comedy and seemingly very funny.’

Vera shook her head. ‘Thank you for asking but Mrs Jankowski has arranged a bridge night with Una and Henry and she wants me to make up the foursome. I said I would go, but I’m not looking forward to it.’

‘It will get you out of the house, Vera, and do you good to meet with your friends again.’

Vera looked as if she wouldn’t care if she never saw another living soul again but she said, ‘I suppose so.’

Molly’s head was still painful but she was getting the stitches out this afternoon and hopefully she would be able to wash her hair thoroughly. Charlie appeared at dinner time. ‘I can’t stay long. I had the Dumfries police check on Etta Barton and it seems she never got off that train. When they checked the cottage, they found a couple of irate removal men with a van full of furniture and nowhere to put it. The couple who live in the cottage have been there since Dave Barton sold the farm to them a year ago.’

Molly had to sit down. She was shocked. ‘Where has she gone?’

‘That,’ said Charlie, ‘is the $64,000 question.’

‘I’ve just left Vera’s house and she was planning on visiting Etta. What kind of person does this to her mother … again?’

Charlie ran his hand through his hair. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see where she reappears – if she ever does.’

‘If it’s any comfort to the people she attacked, I don’t think she’ll show her face here again. She knows that we suspect her of Lenny Barr’s death and all the attacks.’

‘Yes, well, I have to go. I’ve got a desk full of paperwork to write up but I’ll see you later, Molly.’

Later that afternoon, Molly went to the doctor’s surgery. He snipped the stitches but it was very sore as her hair got caught up with the scissors, and not for the first time, Molly cursed Etta Barton.

When she got back to the agency, it was almost dark. Jean said that all the staff were keen to go see Deanna’s play. Mary, Edna and Alice had asked if they could bring a friend. Molly looked surprised at the mention of Alice’s name. Jean said yes – it was a friend called Sandy. ‘You haven’t seen her for a wee while but what a transformation. She’s got a new hairstyle, and a new coat and dress.’

Molly was pleased. ‘Good for her. I hope it lasts.’ Then she added, ‘Put Marigold’s name down and I’ll phone her. As she went up to her flat, she felt it was a good thing to have something to look forward to. It had been a tough few weeks but hopefully it was all over.

Vera sat well into the night with her photograph album, reminiscing over happier times when Etta was a baby. Things had been less enjoyable when Dave came home from the war. It wasn’t his fault, these things happened to the young men who had been traumatised with the horror and bloodshed of the trenches. He had never really settled down but there was no faulting his devotion to Etta. It was his devotion to his wife that was lacking.

She remembered Alexander Lenny Barr. They had fallen in love almost from the first day they had met but she had refused to go off with him. She had a husband and daughter to look after. He had accepted her decision and he was the one to leave for another part of the country. What a rotten hand fate had dealt him to meet up on that awful day with Dave and Etta. All those years, when she thought Dave was dead and Lenny was still alive, she would lie awake at night and wonder where he was. She never dreamed his was the body she had identified; that horrible bloated body with no recognisable features.

However, she had to stop thinking like this. Etta was alive and although she didn’t want her mother’s help and love, at least she wasn’t dead like her dad and Lenny. Thinking of Etta, Vera couldn’t help but shudder as she thought again how alike her daughter was to her sister. She remembered that day in 1929 when Robina had arrived at their house and gone on and on about Etta being born in sin. She had said the wages of sin were death and, up to a point, that had turned out to be true. Etta had been put out to play but Vera had found her listening outside the door as Robina left and she never forgot the look on her daughter’s face. Etta was mesmerised by her aunt and from that point on she seemed eager to uphold Robina’s warped sense of retribution. Then, when she hit the children at school, Vera saw how alike they truly were and she had been very afraid.

She took out the piece of paper with Etta’s address and threw it on the fire, where it curled up in the flames before disintegrating into ash. Just like my life, Vera thought. She knew Etta wasn’t staying there. Dave had told her the true address and his final words had been, ‘Forgive me, Vera, but I had to protect Etta. You do understand, don’t you?’

She had nodded and said, ‘Yes, I understand.’ Then she held his hand till he passed away.

66

Etta boarded the train for London. No longer would she dress as a woman. Her brown pin-striped suit with a white shirt and tie looked so smart with the well-polished brogues. She was amused when she looked at her one suitcase. Like Robina who had been wealthy but lived simply, she would do the same. Dad had invested the money from the sale of the farm in her name and she was also rich.

She recalled the one time she had been in Robina’s home. She had become worried after she hadn’t turned up at the meeting point on the spare bit of ground near Robina’s flat. That night, she decided to go and see her. Robina had given her a key. It was pitch-black and stormy and people’s curtains were drawn.

To her surprise, she had found Robina lying dead. She was having a quick look in the desk, in case Robina had left any incriminating evidence, when she found the will. Everything had been left to the convent in Dublin. Like the Mother Superior, she had thought it would only be a few pounds. Then she saw the policeman looking up at the window, so she had hurried away, barely having time to shove the will back in its envelope.

That was the night her father had taken the battery from her car, when she arrived home late and covered in mud from waiting in the rain. Imagine her surprise when her mother told her it was £75,000. What a pity she hadn’t left it to her niece.

She had big plans for the cottage and the grounds. She would grow all her own vegetables and keep chickens, maybe some goats and a couple of dogs, and live happily ever after. She wouldn’t bother with people. The cottage lay off the beaten track and she would become a recluse and live only for her animals. She settled back in her seat with a contented sigh. She deeply regretted Lenny’s death. If she hadn’t been in such a rage and then heard his feelings of love for her mother, then she wouldn’t have pushed him. But she had and she couldn’t undo the past.

However, she had no regrets about Peter Walsh. In fact, she had hoped she had killed him but apparently he would survive. Bad luck. She was also not sorry about her mother and the McQueen woman. They had all got what they deserved. She had been rejected, lied to and had her life poked into, so she had dealt out fair retribution. She sat and watched the countryside pass by the window and closed her eyes for a sleep.

Confession is good for the soul. Now where did that thought come from?

Probably from Aunt Robina.

Hopefully the nightmares were a thing of the past and those nights when she kept falling through space onto jagged rocks and foaming waves were now in the past. No longer would she wake up covered with sweat and the intense desire for retribution for her mother.

Oh yes, from now on there would be no need for confession.

As the train sped through the countryside, she slept soundly.

67

The big night was here. Deanna was thrilled that all her friends were coming to see her. Marigold arrived in time for tea and was staying the night with Molly. ‘Well, you’ll be glad this case is over, Molly,’ she said.

‘Yes, I am. It’s been a hard slog, Marigold, and all for nothing. Etta’s cleared off again and Vera is back to where she started.’

Marigold was quiet for a moment and then she said, ‘At least she’s knows where she’s staying. That’s a good thing.’

‘But she doesn’t. Charlie said she had no intention of going to Dumfries, and goodness only knows where she is now.’

Marigold almost smiled. So it was Charlie, now, was it? ‘I’ve said it before – it doesn’t do to rake up the past, Molly. Too many dark secrets come out of the woodwork, along with the creepy crawlies. I know it’s a cliché but sleeping dogs should lie and not be disturbed.’

Molly, who was determined to enjoy herself tonight, said, ‘Well, as you say, it’s all over.’

Later, they all met in the foyer of the theatre. Charlie couldn’t make it as he had to work but Alice was there with Sandy, a quiet looking man with thoughtful eyes. Edna was with John, and Molly was pleased to see them looking so happy together. Mary had a nice looking lad with her. His name was Stan and he was another quiet one. Maisie and Jean were on their own as Jean’s husband was a golfer, not a theatre lover.

They had good seats and they all settled down. The play was extremely funny and Molly felt the tears running down her cheeks but there was no sign of Deanna. At the interval, Maisie said, ‘Is she in this play, Molly?’

Molly nodded. ‘She’ll have her part in the second act.’

The actors ran about the stage in various costumes. The plot was that the main actor’s wife had gone away for a week and all manner of misfortunes had befallen him since. Three minutes before the end, a maid rushed on stage. It was Deanna. ‘Mr Baxter, your wife is coming up the drive.’ She stood by the door while all the various actors ran about, falling over each other.

Then the wife appeared and she bellowed, ‘Albert, what’s the meaning of all this?’

At this point, Albert’s trousers fell down and he tripped over the sofa and landed on Deanna. The audience were appreciative and they burst into a volley of applause. The actors lined up on stage and bowed. Deanna looked fabulous in her maid’s costume and she got one of the loudest encores. They all gathered in the foyer and waited on Deanna to come out. When she did they all clapped and said, ‘Well done.’

She tried to look modest but failed. ‘I know it was a small part but I hope it’ll lead to other things.’

Maisie almost had the last word. ‘If it had been any smaller, Deanna, then you would have been a bloody statue.’

But it was said in fun and Deanna laughed along with them. Marigold said, ‘It takes a good actress to fall on the floor elegantly and you did it superbly.’

Deanna blushed with pleasure and they all applauded her again.

Charlie sat in his office with Constable Williams. ‘You have to admit it, sir, that Molly McQueen always seems to get some bizarre cases – like last year and now this one. It beats having to lock up petty thieves and shoplifters.’

He nodded. ‘You’re right, constable. She seems to attract trouble like a bee attracts honey.’ He smiled when he thought about his meeting with the queen bee tomorrow.

Bella Jameson, a pensioner who lived in Victoria Road, threw the empty nail varnish bottle in the bin. Her granddaughter from Canada had left it behind after her holiday in the summer. Being brought up during the war years with the motto of ‘Make do and mend’, Bella had been loath to throw it away. So she had spent the time painting her nails and reliving her youth when she always had red nails on her fingers and toes. She often thought of the woman who had been in the near-accident, the one whose daughter was missing, and she sometimes wondered about going into that agency place every time she passed it. However, she didn’t want to ask any personal questions, she just hoped that the woman had been reunited with her girl. Thankfully, she had no idea she had once been a suspect in an attempted murder.

BOOK: Private Sorrow, A
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