The Judgement of Strangers Read online

  ‘Isn’t that rather morbid?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘But what would you do in his room? Look for scratches on the windowsill?’

  She stared at me, ready to snap. ‘Listen, the more I see of those papers, the more I want to do the biography myself. Francis really was interesting. He came from an Establishment background, and yet he lived on the margins of society. He did all the things the Victorians weren’t meant to do. And even this business about women priests strikes a modern chord. Perhaps Rosemary was right – perhaps in some ways he wasn’t as mad as people thought.’

  ‘The ordination of women is theologically unsound. It was then, and it is now, whatever the Methodists think.’

  She shrugged away my interruption. ‘If only the old lady would let me take away the papers and look at them properly.’

  ‘When are you going there next?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon. I’m taking the afternoon off work because of the party. If you do some of the shopping, I should be able to fit in an hour or two with the papers after lunch.’ She picked up a pencil and a notepad from the bedside table. ‘I’d better make a list of what we need to get.’

  Vanessa’s party on the 13th August: that was the day when we passed the point of no return, though we did not realize it at the time.

  16

  Thursday started badly.

  After breakfast, Rosemary went to the study to phone the school. It was the day her results were due. She was so long that eventually I went into the hall and eavesdropped at the study door. There was nothing to hear except the ticking of the clock on the wall and the rumble of traffic. I knocked and opened the door.

  Rosemary was sitting at my desk, staring at the bookcase on the opposite wall. Her eyes flicked towards me and then back to the bookcase. Her face was pale.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Did you get through to the school?’

  Another nod.

  ‘Have the results come?’

  She moistened her lips. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  She said nothing. I put my arm around her shoulders. She pulled away.

  ‘What did you get?’

  ‘Bs in Latin and History. An A in English.’

  ‘That’s marvellous.’ I kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

  She pushed me away and stood up. ‘There must have been a mistake. There should have been three As.’

  ‘But you don’t need them. Your results are excellent. You –’

  ‘I wanted three As,’ she said. ‘I deserved three As.’

  ‘But, Rosie –’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’

  She walked quickly out of the room. The front door slammed.

  Rosemary returned before midday. To my relief she seemed to have come to terms with her results. I gave her a cheque as a present, and Vanessa gave her another when she arrived at lunchtime.

  ‘Please don’t tell people unless they ask,’ Rosemary said as we were eating. ‘I don’t want everyone to make a fuss.’

  After lunch we separated. Vanessa walked down to the Old Manor House. Rosemary went up to her room. Michael went to the library. I drove into Staines to do the shopping.

  In the off-licence, I bumped into Victor Thurston; I had not seen him since that evening nearly a year ago when we had dined together at the Trasks and I had met Vanessa for the first time. Because of the fondness for committees he shared with his wife, he was often mentioned in the local paper. I came up to the counter with two bottles of sherry, one of gin and one of lemonade to find him in the process of ordering three cases of Moët & Chandon. He turned and saw me. He had a rubbery face with features always on the move.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘We’ve met, haven’t we?’ He raised his eyebrows in a combative way, as though I had denied this.

  ‘Yes, it was –’

  ‘I remember. At Ronnie and Cynthia Trasks’ last year.’

  ‘That’s it. September.’

  ‘And how are you and Vanessa getting on?’ If I hadn’t been wearing a dog collar, I think Thurston would have dug me in the ribs. ‘She’s adjusted to the life of the manse, has she? Ha ha.’

  I smiled dutifully. I tried and failed to remember the name of his wife. For a moment we had a laboured conversation about the Trasks.

  Then Thurston said, ‘You live at Roth, don’t you? I gather there are changes in the air.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was talking to a chap who was thinking of buying a house there. Off the record, as it were. It was only a few weeks ago. Young fellow.’

  ‘Toby Clifford?’

  ‘That’s the one. Bit too hairy for my liking, but seemed a nice enough young chap under the thatch.’

  ‘He and his sister have moved into Roth Park – that’s the big house behind the church.’

  ‘So I dare say you’ve heard his plans,’ Thurston said. ‘Could bring a few changes.’

  I nodded.

  Thurston went on, ‘Of course, schemes like that need a good deal of money. Many a slip between cup and lip, eh? And then there’s the Planning Committee. He was only sounding me out on an informal basis. At first sight I couldn’t see any objection myself. But the planning officer may think otherwise, and you can never be quite sure which way some members of the committee are going to jump.’

  Neither of us wanted to prolong the conversation – we had little to say to each other. But as I drove home, I puzzled over his remarks about Roth Park. Toby had given me to understand that he and Joanna intended to treat the house as their home. He had not mentioned any development of the site. But from what Thurston had said, Toby had been investigating the possibility before they even moved in. Perhaps he was merely looking to the future. Thurston had made it clear that Toby had not made a formal application for planning permission.

  When I got back to the Vicarage, Michael was hoovering the sitting room. Vanessa, who had cut short her researches at the Old Manor House, was assembling cocktail snacks in the kitchen.

  She pecked me on the cheek. ‘Mary Vintner phoned. They’ve cried off. James’s got to cover for his partner this evening, and she’s got a stinking cold.’

  ‘It solves the problem of not having enough armchairs.’

  ‘Could you check there’s ice in the fridge? And we may need to get some more tonic from Malik’s.’

  ‘How was Lady Youlgreave?’

  ‘Slightly more loopy than usual, I’m afraid. I wonder how long she’s going to last. There aren’t any children, are there?’

  I was refilling the ice tray at the sink. ‘No.’

  ‘So who will inherit the papers when she does die?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘It’s a worry. Do you know, I found a letter from Oscar Wilde today. It’s so frustrating. And I was just about to look at another packet of letters when Lady Youlgreave got worried about the bird table.’

  ‘The bird table?’

  ‘The one she can see from her window. There were a couple of crows on it who were frightening away the smaller birds. She’d got out a pair of opera glasses, trying to work out what was interesting them. She wanted me to go and find out. But when I did go out, there wasn’t much left. Looked like a bit of bone or something. Quite fresh – there was blood as well.’

  ‘On the bird table? Isn’t that a bit odd?’

  Vanessa shook her head. ‘I imagine one of the birds brought it. Or perhaps Doris put it out. The trouble was, by the time I’d done that, Lady Youlgreave had had enough. The poor thing finds it very tiring having me there. All she really wants is her medicine and some peace and quiet. That and no pain.’ She glanced at me, the knife in her hand poised over a slab of Cheddar. ‘I wish we didn’t have to get old. It’s so dreary.’

  I put the ice tray into the freezing compartment of the refrigerator and closed the door. ‘Where’s Rosemary?’

  ‘She went to see Audrey.’

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p; ‘Heaven knows what they find to talk about.’

  At that moment, the phone began to ring yet again.

  ‘I’m sometimes tempted to cut the wires,’ Vanessa said. ‘Don’t people realize that you occasionally need five minutes’ peace?’

  It was the secretary of the Parochial Church Council. His wife had gone down with flu so they would be unable to come this evening. I went back to the kitchen to tell Vanessa.

  ‘Oh well,’ she said. ‘In some ways, the fewer the better. It will give us more chance to get to know the Cliffords.’

  ‘Audrey will be there.’

  ‘I’m sure she will. She’ll be waiting on the doorstep on the stroke of half past six.’

  As it happened, though, Vanessa was wrong. Rosemary returned home at teatime with the news that Lord Peter was missing again. Audrey was very worried and had set off on a tour of the neighbourhood in search of him. She had asked Rosemary to warn us that she might be late, and to apologize on her behalf.

  Neither Vanessa nor I was disposed to take this latest disappearance very seriously. Vanessa murmured that she could quite understand the cat’s wanting an occasional break from his mistress’s company.

  At a quarter to seven, the E-type bringing our sole surviving guests pulled up outside the front door of the Vicarage. I heard Vanessa suck in her breath as Toby got out of the car. He was wearing very tight bell-bottomed trousers and a white shirt without a collar. Joanna climbed awkwardly out of the passenger seat, exposing almost all of her bare legs. She wore a short, crumpled green dress which looked as if it were made of silk. We went out to meet them.

  ‘If I hadn’t known better,’ Toby told Vanessa as they shook hands, ‘I’d have said that you and Rosemary were sisters.’

  The tips of Vanessa’s ears went pink, the way they did when someone paid her a compliment. Then it was Rosemary’s turn. I heard him asking which university she went to. We went into the house. Michael was hesitating in the hall. I introduced him to the Cliffords. Michael’s eyes drifted out towards the E-type in the drive.

  ‘You can look inside her, if you want,’ Toby said, following the direction of his gaze. ‘It’s not locked.’

  ‘Really? Thanks.’

  ‘You should try the driving seat. It’s fantastically well designed.’

  I wished that Michael would look at me as he looked at Toby. We left the boy with the car and went into the sitting room, where I poured drinks. Toby chatted with Vanessa and Rosemary. Joanna sat down in an armchair and asked for gin and tonic. As I gave it to her, she leant forward and the neck of her dress gaped open. I could not help noticing that she was not wearing a bra.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, looking up at me.

  Her face distracted me. She looked pinched and worried; and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot.

  ‘Are you feeling all right?’ I murmured, too low for the others to hear.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said equally softly. ‘It’s OK here.’

  Her eyes met mine. I was about to say something when Toby appeared at Joanna’s shoulder. ‘Have you got your cigarettes, Jo? I must have left mine at home.’

  She delved into her bag, a gaudy object made of leather patches and fastened with a drawstring, and produced a packet of Rothmans.

  ‘I bumped into Victor Thurston this afternoon,’ I said to Toby.

  For an instant the skin tightened at the corners of his eyes, as though a bright light had unexpectedly shone into them. ‘Oh yes. Nice chap. I’ve only met him the once. I went to see him just before we exchanged contracts on this place. The estate agent thought it might be a good idea.’

  ‘He seemed to think you were considering developing the place.’

  Toby played it exactly right – relaxed, smiling, with every appearance of frankness: ‘Well, in the long term, anything’s possible. Just a case of knowing what one’s options are. As I say, the estate agent practically bullied me into it.’

  ‘If you did develop Roth Park, what might you do?’

  ‘I did wonder about turning it into a hotel. There’s lots of room. And it’s not a bad location, either. Heathrow Airport only a few miles away. There’ll soon be two motorways within easy reach. And of course London’s on the doorstep.’

  ‘The house and grounds might appeal to the Americans,’ Vanessa suggested. ‘Feed their fantasies about the English aristocracy. And you could offer culture, too.’

  ‘Francis Youlgreave?’

  She smiled at him, and he smiled back; it was like watching an evenly matched game of tennis. ‘You’ve obviously done your research,’ she said.

  ‘I bought a copy of The History of Roth from Mr Malik.’

  ‘To go back to Francis Youlgreave: I’m researching his life at present. I wondered if you’d mind me looking over the house some time. I’ve never seen it.’

  Toby spread out his hands. ‘Whenever you want. In fact, Jo and I were thinking about holding a little housewarming party after the fete. Do you think that’s a good idea? You could have the Grand Tour while you’re there, if you liked. We should be more or less straight by then. At present we’re rather at sixes and sevens.’

  The conversation moved on to the fete and the proposed party. Time passed quickly, and I was aware that I was drinking more than I usually did.

  At a quarter to eight, Toby glanced at his watch. ‘Is that the time? We’d better get going.’

  ‘Michael’s still in your car,’ Vanessa said, peering out of the window. ‘He’s sitting behind the wheel and looking very serious. Having a whale of a time, I think.’

  ‘You could take him for a drive, Toby,’ Joanna suggested suddenly. ‘I’ll walk home. It’s not exactly far.’

  Toby glanced at her and then at Vanessa and me. ‘I’d be happy to – if it wouldn’t upset your plans for the evening.’

  ‘I’m sure Michael would love it,’ Vanessa said. ‘But can you spare the time?’

  ‘Oh, we wouldn’t be long. Twenty minutes or so. Would that be OK?’

  By now we had all moved into the hall. I opened the front door. A diversion was approaching in the shape of Audrey, who was walking very quickly over the gravel. Her face was pink and shiny; she was not wearing a hat, and her hair hung raggedly down over her left ear.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Has Lord Peter turned up?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve looked everywhere. But I found this.’

  She held up a thin green strap with a small brass medallion attached to it.

  ‘What is it?’ Vanessa asked.

  Audrey took a deep breath. Her chest was pumping up and down. ‘It’s Lord Peter’s collar,’ she said between gasps. ‘It was in the bus shelter. I phoned the police but – but they weren’t very helpful.’

  The evening broke up quickly after that. Vanessa and Rosemary took Audrey into the sitting room. Rosemary sat with her while Vanessa made her some tea. Meanwhile, Toby took Michael for a drive, as originally arranged; it seemed the best thing for all concerned.

  ‘Will you be all right?’ Toby asked Joanna before he left.

  ‘Of course I shall. It’s only a few hundred yards.’

  ‘You’ll cut off quite a bit if you go through the gate in the garden and then through the churchyard,’ I said. ‘I’ll show you.’

  My motives were mixed. To be frank, I was glad of the chance to leave Audrey with Vanessa and Rosemary. And common politeness required that I show Joanna the way to the gate. I took her down the path at the side of the house and into the garden at the back. We walked in silence across the lawn to the gate in the wall of the churchyard. I opened it for her.

  ‘If you follow the path round the church, go past the south door, then you come to the little gate in the paddock. The one you used the other day.’

  Joanna stopped under the archway and looked up at me. I looked into the shifting green depths of her eyes and thought how beautiful they were; and another part of my mind smugly congratulated myself on the fact that my appreciation was purely aesthetic.
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  ‘Can I talk to you?’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Of course you can.’ I had been half expecting this. ‘That’s what I’m here for.’

  Unexpectedly, she giggled. ‘A sort of agony uncle?’

  I smiled back. ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Will you walk with me a little way?’

  I followed her into the churchyard and shut the gate behind us.

  ‘It’s strange here,’ she said. ‘I miss the noise of the city. There were always people around where we lived – day or night. But here, apart from the main road and the planes, most of the time it’s dead.’

  We passed the east end of the church and the flight of steps leading down to the vault under the chancel.

  ‘It’s not town,’ she went on, ‘and it’s not country, either. It’s not real.’

  ‘That’s the trouble with suburbs,’ I said. ‘They feel like the middle of nowhere. But one gets used to them.’

  She glanced at me, and for the first time I saw her smile. She stopped suddenly. We were beside the south porch. It was quiet, as if the churchyard had slipped away from the suburbs and returned to the country it had left behind. I distinctly remember hearing a bee in the rosebush that grew in the south-west angle between the porch and the church.

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ She looked up at me and then past me. Suddenly her eyes widened. Her expression changed as completely as though a mask had been dropped over her face. She clutched my arm.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Look. In the porch.’ She had difficulty forcing the words out. ‘Beside the door.’

  I stepped under the archway into the porch. Immediately before me was the heavy door into the nave of the church, great oak planks bleached with age. To the left of this was the board we used for parish notices.

  Someone had given it a new use. Dangling in front of it was a ragged mass of black fur. I stared at it and felt my stomach churning in disgust. There were patches of white and red among the black.