Shroud of Silence Read online

  I thought it wisest to say nothing to that.

  Gwen charged on, working herself up. “Do you realize she never intended to have a baby at all. She shouted from the rooftops that poor Jane was a miscalculation on her part, and she’s always resented the child. There won’t be any more, that’s been made crystal clear. Of course, Drew would like a son. He’s worked hard to keep Mildenhall going, and it’s only natural he wants the line to continue.” Gwen paused, and shot a tentative look at me. “Mind you, the way things are between them these days I doubt if they’d ever get together again, even if Corinne did have a change of heart about children.”

  “As it turns out,” I said carefully, “it may perhaps have been unfortunate that your sister was on hand to take Jane off her mother’s shoulders. Otherwise, Corinne would have been forced to take more interest,”

  Gwen was scornful. “Don’t you believe it. If Tansy hadn’t been around, then she’d have got a nanny for the child. Never mind the cost. Never mind that Drew was finding it hard to make ends meet in those days. What Corrine wants, Corinne gets. Those Harpers are all the same.”

  “Yet there seems to be no family feeling between them,” I ventured. “They’re always needling one another.”

  “Selfish swine,” she growled. “Verity and Felix are nothing but a pair of layabouts. They’ve just fastened on to Drew like leeches.”

  “Don’t they do anything?” I asked. “No jobs?”

  Gwen laughed harshly. “Verity occasionally does a few days modeling when she’s in the mood. As for Felix, he’s always talking about making himself a bit of commission, but don’t ask me doing what.”

  “And they live at Mildenhall permanently?”

  “They use it as their base—a sort of free hotel.”

  “You mean ever since Drew and Corinne were married?”

  “Well no, it wasn’t so bad at first. But this last couple of years they’ve more or less taken up residence.”

  I tucked that piece of information away. Every darned thing at Mildenhall seemed to date from two years back.

  “I can’t imagine why Drew puts up with them,” I remarked.

  “Because Corinne insists, of course.”

  “I wonder why? From the way they keep getting at her, you’d think she’d be glad to see the last of them.”

  Gwen sighed heavily. “God alone knows what it’s all about! They’re a queer lot all right, those Harpers.”

  * * * *

  There was an almighty fuss brewing when I emerged into the hall after breakfast on Monday morning. Jane, neat in a school uniform of blue blouse and gray skirt, was waiting to be taken to kindergarten. And nobody to take her, apparently.

  Tansy was pattering down the stairs in great agitation. From below Drew called up to her impatiently. “Well, what does she say?”

  “I’m afraid Corinne says her headache is too bad, Drew dear,” Tansy twittered. “She says if you can’t manage to take Jane yourself, then why don’t you get one of the workmen ...?”

  He exploded. “Damn it all. There are three people besides me in this house who can drive. Surely to God it’s not asking too much? They know I’ve got an important customer coming to see me in a minute.”

  Jane was pulling on a crimson blazer. To most people it would look like she was placidly getting herself ready. But I knew all the signs of a drooping heart.

  I cut right across Tansy’s tremulous wail of regret that she’d never learned to drive.

  “I do wish you’d let me take Jane to school, Mr. Barrington. I’d love the chance of a drive on a beautiful morning like this.”

  For Jane’s sake I was piling on the eagerness. But my effort was completely ruined by her father piling on the gratitude.

  “That’s extremely good of you, Miss Bennett If you’re really quite sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  I frowned at him to lay off the thanks. “As I said, I shall enjoy it.”

  “Well then, you can take either car—the Rover or the little Austin. I’ll come with you to the garage.”

  The Rover looked a bit hefty to me, so I settled for the Austin.

  Drew gave me directions. “It’s quite straightforward. Take the driveway down through the fish farm, and turn left when you reach the road. Gilham is about four miles. You’ll see the school on the right as you run into the village.”

  Jane accepted her father’s goodbye kiss and clambered into the car beside me. She didn’t look round as we drove off, but stared straight ahead, silent and serious, refusing to respond to anything I tried saying to her.

  At the ponds I spotted Bill Wayne and two other men working on the banks. They were hacking out water weed with long-handled sickles. Hearing the car, they all three glanced up.

  “Look, there’s Bill,” I said brightly, grinning back at his thumbs up sign. “Why don’t you wave to him?”

  But Jane wouldn’t. I think at that moment she hated the whole adult race. Somehow or other I had to break through the solid stone wall that Jane had erected between us.

  I’d often found a useful trick in such circumstances was to do the wrong thing, hoping to be corrected. An opportunity soon came. We had reached the point where the Mildenhall drive joined the public road. Drew had told me to turn left. Without hesitation I swung the car to the right.

  Jane came to sudden life. She struggled into speech, forcing the words out.

  “Not … not this way.”

  “Oh dear.” I pulled up and put the car into reverse. “What a good thing you noticed, Jane. It would have been too bad if my silliness had made you late for school.”

  I was rewarded with a shy little smile of pleasure.

  As we bowled along the quiet lane, I began to sing softly.

  Yankee doodle went to town,

  Upon a little pony,

  He stuck a feather in his cap,

  And called it macaroni.

  Jane was half-turned in her seat, looking at me open-mouthed, intrigued by the unfamiliar song.

  I gave her a quick smile. “American children sing that,” I said. I didn’t ask her to try it for herself. I just went through the rhyme again, and finished:

  Yankee doodle doodle do,

  Yankee doodle dandy.

  Presently a thin little voice took it up with me as I started once more. She was hesitant, unsure of the words. But she didn’t splutter over them. The simple act of singing had cut through the stammering habit.

  I didn’t compliment her. But as it turned out I did something worse.

  “Who usually brings you to school,” I said thoughtlessly, “Mummy or Daddy?”

  There was silence. We were just swinging through the gates of the nursery school, but when we had drawn up beside the low white-fronted building, I was able to look at her.

  Jane’s face was closed against me, her lips pressed tight. She got out of the car and walked away slowly. I watched her welcomed at the door by the teacher, who saluted me with a lift of the hand. Jane disappeared inside without looking back.

  I wondered how she got on at school. Did she have as much trouble with her speech there as at home? It would be helpful to have a chat with her teacher sometime, but this was hardly the moment.

  I had arranged with Drew to keep the car for the whole morning, and collect Jane again at noon. I’d explained there were a few things I wanted to buy. In fact, I had something different in mind, something for which I needed to be alone.

  It was a pleasant half-hour’s drive to Chichester through wooded downland country. As I drew near I glimpsed the cathedral spire, a graceful needle against the sky. But I doubted if I’d have time for sightseeing today.

  The cheerful parking lot attendant told me where to find the offices of a local newspaper. I was counting on Brian Hearne’s death being newsworthy enough to have got more than just a brief mention. I wanted the full facts because I needed to know what I was up against.

  The fatal accident two years ago seemed to have shattered the whole family, creating an at
mosphere at Mildenhall unfit for any child. I felt more and more certain as time went by that there was some sort of connection between Brian’s death and Jane’s stammering.

  A spotty youth behind the counter swallowed half a bun in one lump and inquired painfully if he could help me.

  “I wanted to look up something that happened about a couple of years back. Round about this time ... in the autumn.”

  He pulled a long face. “Can’t you get nearer than that?”

  “Sorry to be so vague.”

  He fished around in a cupboard and finally produced two enormous files. Obligingly, he carted them across to a table for me, and pulled up a chair. “This one goes to the end of September, and that once takes over from there until the end of the year.”

  “Thank you.”

  The task looked formidable. Each edition would have to be combed right through. A drowning accident might have been pushed well down column on an inside page.

  I kept stopping to check the many headlines that could have fitted. Drowned Man Verdict ... Coroner’s Surprise Decision ... that sort of thing. When finally I found what I was looking for the story was much bigger than I’d expected.

  A banner headline announced blackly: VERDICT ON MILDENHALL DROWNING. Below it a photograph of the dead man grinned out. There was an unmistakable look of dissipation about Brian Hearne, yet with thick dark hair and white teeth he had most of the trimmings of a handsome man. A man, I’d have said at a glance, who would know his own rather dubious mind.

  I skated through the report, plucking out the main points. I hit a big surprise at once. The body had been found by Bill Wayne. “It was early morning—only half-light. I saw something white in the rainbow pond floating near the edge by the roadway. He was dressed in just shirt and trousers….”

  A doctor who’d been summoned hastily to the scene now gave it as his confident opinion that the body had been in the water for some hours. Almost certainly all night.

  The coroner found no reason to suspect foul play, and the possibility that Brian had taken his own life was firmly ruled out. Without doubt, it was an accidental death. A dark night, water on either side of the narrow road.... It would have been easy enough for a man to miss his footing, trip and fall stunned into the pond.

  As Bill had told me, the coroner in his kindly discretion had drawn a veil over Brian’s alcoholic state.

  I wondered what sort of discretion had prompted Bill to skip telling me that he had found the body. He’d not appeared reticent when talking about Brian’s death. In fact, he’d been almost flippant, until he’d touched on Brian’s weakness for women. My comeback that I knew about it already had seemed to scare him off.

  My spotty friend came wandering over. “Have you found what you wanted, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you. Would you still have a spare copy of this one—October twelfth?”

  “Could be. We’ve got back numbers from the Ark onwards. I’ll just have a look.”

  I was in luck. I walked out into the morning sunshine a few minutes later with the relevant cutting carefully folded and put away in my handbag.

  A clock in the window of a bank opposite showed eleven-five. My search had taken me well over an hour.

  There was still time for a quick look round Chichester before returning to pick up Jane. I was supposed to be spending a couple of hours shopping here, so I ought to have a rough idea of the general layout.

  I had taken scarcely a dozen steps towards the Market Cross when a voice called from behind.

  “Miss Bennett!”

  I swung round. Drew Barrington was hurrying to catch me up. He was smiling in a friendly way, a pleasant change for him.

  “I thought I might possibly run into you. I had to bring the Land Rover in to collect a load of fish food from the railway station.”

  Foolishly, and for no reason at all, I found I’d lost my tongue.

  He edged me to the side of the crowded pavement. “You’re not going back just yet, are you?”

  “Well ... I’ll have to soon, to pick up Jane from school.”

  He checked with his watch quickly, “There’s time for some coffee first. Won’t you join me?”

  “I’d like to.”

  Bypassing the shoppers, he guided me expertly through a couple of back streets and into the rear entrance of a hotel. In no time at all we were at a quiet table in a Tudored-over lounge, the coffee ordered. Then, while we waited, there was an awkward silence.

  Suddenly Drew shot at me, “I realize you didn’t at all approve of the muddle about getting Jane to school this morning.”

  I wasn’t going to dissemble on that subject. “You see, Mr. Barrington, no child likes to feel a nuisance. And in Jane’s case it’s vital that she shouldn’t get such an idea about herself. Her handicap already gives her a sense of inferiority and insecurity, without it being made ten times worse.” I looked at him guardedly. “I’m sorry if that sounded like a lecture.”

  “Not at all.” He paused while the waiter brought the coffee tray. “You’re quite right to be critical. We were all at fault, and I’ll certainly see it doesn’t happen again.”

  I picked up the coffeepot. “Black?”

  “Oh, just a little cream.”

  As I poured, I asked him, “Would it help if I took Jane to school each day while I’m here?”

  “But we couldn’t expect you to do that.”

  “I’d like it. And I’d get a fine chance of talking to her in a natural sort of way.”

  He frowned and said gloomily, “That’s what I should be doing, of course.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, talking to my daughter in a natural sort of way,” He took his cup of coffee absently and went on holding it in midair. “I don’t seem to be able to get near Jane somehow. It’s as if there’s a barrier between us. The trouble is, I get so mighty little spare time these days.”

  I knew it would sound a bit righteous, but it had to be said. “I think you ought to make the time to be with your daughter, Mr. Barrington.”

  He looked at me sharply, obviously surprised that I should be so outspoken. But I saw that he was not displeased. He suddenly became aware that he was still holding the cup in the air. Confused, he put it down on the table too quickly and coffee slopped over into the saucer.

  “It’s this stammering of hers that makes everything so difficult.”

  I shook my head slowly. “That’s putting the cart before the horse.”

  He looked utterly cast down. I decided I’d been critical enough for the moment. It was time to make a constructive suggestion.

  “Why don’t you buy Jane a dog?”

  “A dog? I’d be happy to, of course. Is that a recognized part of your ... er ... treatment?”

  I laughed. “I just think it would do Jane good to have a pet, that’s all. I think it does any child good.”

  He considered for a moment “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll get one now, and take it home with me.”

  “No, don’t do that.” I knew I was laying down the law again, but I couldn’t help it. “Take Jane with you and let her choose. Make it an outing together.”

  He had the humorously crestfallen air of a schoolboy reprimanded. “I can see I’ve got a lot to learn. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

  I caught sight of a clock on the wall above his head. “Oh heavens, look at the time! I’ll have to get moving.”

  He stood up at once, sorting out cash and leaving it on the tray, “Where did you put the car?”

  “Er ... in the carpark.”

  “Yes, but which one? There are several, you know.”

  “Well ... it was the one near North Street. Or was it East Street?”

  He actually laughed out loud. “I was beginning to be afraid you were quite infallible. Come on, Kim. We’ll try the most likely places first, and then work our way through.”

  All the way back I was debating whether that ‘Kim’ had been deliberate, or just an unconscious slip of the tongue
. I decided it was deliberate. I wanted to believe he had known what he was saying.

  Chapter Eight

  When Jane and I got back to Mildenhall soon after twelve - thirty, Verity was waiting for us, hopping mad with impatience to use the car.

  “You took your time, I must say,” she remarked sourly. She revved the little engine hard and crashed gears up the steep zigzag drive.

  When I discovered that Felix, and Corinne too, would also be out for lunch, I gave three silent cheers. One for each of the absent Harpers.

  In fact, the whole atmosphere of the house was incredibly lightened. We sat in an informal group around one end of the long table - Drew, Tansy, Jane and I.

  Drew had brought his good humor home with him. At one point he had Jane in fits with an impersonation of two trout having a fishy conversation. Tansy and I were laughing too, maybe just to see Drew shelving his cares for once.

  But I was almost as astonished as Jane when Drew suddenly asked her, “How would you like us to go and buy you a puppy this afternoon?”‘

  The child’s eyes widened and went on growing bigger till I thought they’d stretch beyond her face. She asked explosively. “Do you m-m-mean for m-m-m-m...”

  She fought the difficult word, and at last it emerged. “My very own?”

  “Yes, your very own,” he assured her. “I know a place near Liphook where they’ve got lots to choose from.”

  Since Jane was at school each morning, I’d counted on having the afternoons clear to work with her. Fun work, making a game of it. But I didn’t mind skipping today. Getting a puppy was even better.

  “What time are you thinking of going?” I asked Drew. There might still be a chance to fit in half-an-hour with Jane before they set off.

  “Actually, right after lunch. Is that all right for you?”

  He saw my hesitation. “I’d like you to come too Kim, if you will.”

  The sky stayed blue until we were on the way. By then the gathering clouds and a few odd drops of rain hardly damped our spirits, I was sure it did Jane a lot of good to be with her father in such happy, relaxed circumstances.