Hobby of Murder (5 page)

‘I think I should attempt it,’ Andrew said. ‘As you said yesterday, it’s history.’

He did not add that it to some extent depended on her ability to make a good job of it.

She looked pleased.

‘I think I really will have a go at it, though I’ve never tried writing anything before,’ she said. ‘Not that I’d have to write much. It would be mostly a case of editing. Do you think you could take a look at it from time to time as I go along and give me advice? It would be such a help to have someone experienced to give me an opinion.’

‘Experienced! My dear Miss Clancy, I’ve written only one book in my life which took me several years to get into a form that any publisher would look at. I’m sure you could find someone better suited for your needs. You might think about Mr Waldron. It sounds as if he’s a bit of a historian.’

‘Do call me Eleanor,’ she said, ‘and thank you so much for coming this morning.’

The first guest to arrive at the small party that Ian and Mollie were giving that evening came punctually at six o’clock, and struck Andrew as someone who would always
arrive at the exact time of any appointment. He was introduced to Andrew as Ernest Audley, who, he remembered from what Mollie had told him the day before about the guests they expected, was a solicitor, who lived in Lower Milfrey but worked in Rockford. He was a tall, gangling man, with sandy red hair that stood straight up from a high, narrow forehead, a thin nervous face which except for some noticeably red blotches on his cheekbones was unusually pale, light blue eyes with thick, sandy lashes, and a small mouth that seemed to have some difficulty in smiling. There was something about his whole personality that expressed a kind of detachment, even when what he was saying was friendly. He told Andrew that he had heard about him from the Davidges and had been looking forward to meeting him, yet the look with which he was regarding him might have been as fittingly fixed upon one of the pieces of furniture in the room.

However, Mollie had greeted him with a warm kiss, which as the evening progressed Andrew saw was how she greeted everybody, and Audley had returned the kiss with a certain warmth which suggested that there might be feelings in him which could be worth reaching if only one knew the trick of doing so.

The next to arrive was Brian Singleton, the biochemist who worked in the Rockford Agricultural Institute and who was the brother of the noted writer. He looked about thirty-five and was tall, broad-shouldered and strongly-built, with a square, bronzed face, big, wide-spaced grey eyes, a wide, well-shaped mouth and the sort of short nose that it is easy not to notice. His hair was fair and curly. He was carrying a basket of nectarines which he presented to Mollie after receiving the kiss of greeting, a somewhat warmer kiss than had been awarded to Ernest Audley. She said that it was sweet of him to bring them and that he ought really not to have troubled, then introduced him to Andrew, whom he
said that he was delighted to meet because he had once been a student of his, though no doubt Andrew would not remember him.

A faint recollection stirred in Andrew’s mind.

‘I’m sorry, my memory for names and faces is terrible nowadays,’ he said, ‘but I believe I remember you.’

‘Not for any distinction in my work,’ Brian Singleton said cheerfully. ‘I was lucky to get a Second, and then to get the job I’ve got. I’d sooner have got into a university, but I’m afraid I haven’t quite got what it takes. Having one brilliant member in the family seems to be as much as one can expect.’

‘Oh, you’re referring to your brother,’ Andrew said. ‘Luke Singleton. He is your brother, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. And that’s what everyone says to me these days,’ Singleton answered, smiling. ‘I’ve got used to it.’

‘Then I hope you don’t mind it.’

‘Oh no, I’m even moderately proud of it. It’s a pity he isn’t here this evening, but he’s not arriving till tomorrow. He’ll be in time for the Waldrons’ shindig on Saturday. You’re going to that, of course.’

Audley interrupted them. He had been talking, with a glass of wine in his hand, to Ian, but now turned to Singleton.

‘Did I hear you say that your brother’s coming down, Brian?’ he asked, and his voice had a rasp in it.

Singleton looked curiously embarrassed by the question.

‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact, you did,’ he answered.

‘And going to the Waldrons’ dinner?’ Audley went on.

‘I assume so, unless he takes it into his head not to go.’

‘I see.’ There was a chilly finality in the way that it was said.

Mollie heard it and put a hand on Audley’s arm.

‘Ernest, you won’t mind about that, will you?’ she said. ‘There are things one’s got to put behind one.’

‘On what compulsion must I, tell me that?’ he rasped at her.

‘For your own sake, Ernest. Please. Start trying to forgive and forget.’

‘I’ve no intention of doing either. I’m sorry, Brian, but if your brother’s going to that dinner, I shan’t be there. Perhaps you’ll ring me before then and let me know just what he’s planning to do.’

Brian Singleton had flushed a dark red, but unlike Mollie, he did not try to make Audley change his mind.

‘All right, Ernest. Understood. But I’m sorry about it.’

‘I’ll count on you, then.’

Audley turned away to resume his conversation with Ian, and at just that moment the doorbell rang again, and Mollie went to let in a young woman who nodded a greeting to the people in the room, then was introduced to Andrew as Dr Felicity Mace.

She looked as if she was in her early thirties, a slim, vital young woman, with an oval face, a fine complexion, grey eyes and straight dark brown hair that she wore combed back from her forehead in a casual sweep. She was wearing a neat, loose-fitting dress, coral earrings and white shoes. It managed to look both practical and fairly elegant.

Soon after her, Eleanor Clancy arrived, her jeans changed for a full, flowery-patterned skirt, but her frilly blouse was the same one that she had been wearing in the morning, and Andrew was inclined to think that jeans and a shirt suited her better. Nothing that she could do, he thought, would make her look feminine. The Waldrons were only just behind her, which Andrew gathered made the party complete.

He had been right that the fisherman with whom he had exchanged a few words that morning was Sam Waldron, changed from his sweater and corduroys into a dark blue blazer with brass buttons and twill trousers. His hair was
grey, his features aquiline, and Andrew reflected that he had been right in thinking that he was about fifty, though somehow he looked older than he had out on the common. Anna Waldron was a small woman at least ten years younger than her husband and with a look of diffidence about her, almost as if she feared that it would be inappropriate for her to compete for notice with her husband. But she was pretty in a quiet way, with pleasant grace in her movements. Her hair, tied back from her face with a small knot of scarlet ribbon, was dark and curly, her eyes were dark and bright and innocent, her dress was pale grey and although it was only of cotton managed to have a look of having been expensive. Her pearls might be genuine.

As soon as Eleanor Clancy saw her, she gave a little cry and called out, ‘Suzie—it
is
Suzie, isn’t it?’

Anna Waldron started and spilled a little of the wine that Ian had just given her, and instead of answering Eleanor, exclaimed, ‘Oh dear, how clumsy of me! Oh dear, I shouldn’t have done that.’

Eleanor advanced towards her across the room.

‘It is Suzie Waldron, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Of St Hilda’s. I dare say you don’t remember me, Eleanor Clancy, but I’d have known you anywhere.’

The woman who had just been introduced to Andrew as Anna Waldron looked bewildered, and seemed to find it difficult to look the other woman in the face.

Her husband answered for her. ‘Yes, you’d have known her as Suzie, but since she grew up she’s preferred to be called Anna. Her actual name is Suzanna. She’s often spoken of you, Miss Clancy. She tells me she was very fond of games when she was a child. Sad to say, that’s one of the things one has to leave behind as one grows older.’

‘As I know only too well,’ Eleanor said, looking at him with a puzzled sort of thoughtfulness, then again at his wife, in the way she had of looking as if she were committing
them to memory. ‘Are you cousins, perhaps?’ she asked. ‘I mean, because she hasn’t changed her name.’

‘Yes, first cousins,’ he answered, ‘but we haven’t any children, so you needn’t be afraid we’ve been producing dotty offspring. Not that they mightn’t just as likely have been geniuses. Professor, I’m sure you could put it more scientifically, but all I can say about it is that I believe a marriage between cousins simply exaggerates what’s inherited from their family. And we both had a grandfather who was a popular comedian in his time and made a fortune, and a grandmother who was a quite successful actress.’ He chuckled. ‘Well, if they weren’t exactly geniuses, either of them, they had talent of a sort, but we’ve neither of us inherited it from them.’

As if she felt that she had just been given permission to do it, Anna Waldron suddenly walked up to Eleanor Clancy and kissed her on the cheek.

‘Of course I remember you, dear Miss Clancy,’ she said. ‘You know I used to hero-worship you. I wanted to be a games mistress just like you.’

‘Didn’t you live with your grandparents?’ Eleanor asked. ‘I seem to remember we were all so sorry for you because your parents were dead.’

Anna nodded. ‘They were killed in a plane crash. But I was very happy with my grandparents.’

‘She’d never have been any good as a schoolmistress,’ her husband said. ‘Not nearly tough enough with anyone, and much too shy. Now, Miss Clancy, if we’d met sooner I’d have asked you before, but is it too late to invite you to a dinner we’re giving on Saturday? A slightly odd dinner, I ought to warn you, because I’m basing it as nearly as I can on a dinner given in the eighteenth-century by a certain Parson Woodforde. The good parson is rather a hobby of mine. I’ve the sort of feeling for him that I have for some of my old friends. He’d immense good-nature. For instance,
he’d a manservant called Will who had an unfortunate habit of coming home in the evenings, “disguised in drink”, as the parson put it. He was always doing it and it worried the good man, and he kept on trying to make up his mind to sack Will, as he wasn’t exactly the sort of servant a parson should have. But nine years later Will is still coming home, disguised. Now you’ve been warned. Will you come?’

Eleanor Clancy’s small, deep-set eyes sparkled.

‘Thank you so much. It will give me the greatest pleasure.’

‘But which of your servants, Sam, will be coming in disguised, as you call it?’ Ian asked. ‘I thought you had the two Bartlett sisters, sober characters if ever there were any.’

‘Ah yes,’ Sam Waldron said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t produce the whole atmosphere correctly. I’ve never seen either of the Bartletts touch liquor, as they call it. But they’ve entered into the spirit of the thing and are being most helpful. There’s a good deal of work involved, of course, but I’m determined to make a success of it.’

‘Just one moment, Sam,’ Ernest Audley said, moving from the side of the young doctor, with whom he had been having a quiet conversation. ‘I’ve been told that one of your guests will be that man Luke Singleton. Is that true?’

‘Ah yes, he’s our celebrity for the evening,’ Sam Waldron answered enthusiastically. ‘Brian’s bringing him along. That may get our dinner at least in the local paper.’

‘Then I hope you’ll forgive me,’ Audley said, his pale, blotchy face stern, ‘but I’m afraid I must withdraw my acceptance of your invitation. I’m not going to spend an evening in the company of that bastard.’

‘Oh, Ernest!’ Anna said with a little gasp.

‘Now, now, Ernest,’ Sam said, ‘you don’t mean that. Why, it was all years ago.’

‘I certainly mean it,’ Audley said.

‘No, you don’t. You’ll come. Do you want him to think he’s somehow permanently defeated you?’

Andrew turned to Felicity Mace, who had just moved to his elbow.

‘Would it be very tactless of me to inquire,’ he asked, ‘just what Mr Audley has against Luke Singleton?’

She smiled. She had a very pleasant, friendly smile.

‘Not seriously,’ she said, ‘since it’s common knowledge. Jane Audley left Ernest for Luke Singleton. There was a divorce, a very gory one, because with Luke being as well-known as he is, the popular press had a field-day. And then when it was through, instead of marrying Jane, he deserted her. Just which part of the story really hurts him most I don’t know, her leaving him, or the horrible publicity, or Luke ditching her when it was over. I think he was very angry for her.’

‘And how long ago did it happen?’

‘About five years.’

‘That isn’t so very long.’ The years, for Andrew, were passing faster and faster and five years did not strike him as amounting to much. He thought it might well have taken him more than five years to get over something as traumatic as the breakdown of Ernest Audley’s marriage, if such a thing had ever happened to him. It was more than ten years since Nell had died and he had never wholly got over it.

‘And you didn’t read anything about it when it happened?’ Felicity Mace asked. ‘But I suppose you don’t patronize the popular press.
The Times
probably had only a small paragraph about it.’

The attempt to persuade Ernest Audley to attend the Waldrons’ dinner, even if Luke Singleton was there, was continuing. Eleanor and Ian had joined in, and so after a few minutes did Dr Mace. In fact, the only people who did not seem concerned by the matter were Mollie and Brian
Singleton who were sitting side by side on a sofa and talking together in low voices. About another photograph from the electron microscope, Andrew wondered. There was an air of intimacy about them and almost of withdrawal from the other people in the room, until all of a sudden Brian astonished Andrew by apparently extracting a golf-ball from Mollie’s ear. She gave a little squeal, then burst out laughing.

‘Oh, Brian, you fool! That’s a new trick, isn’t it? When did you learn it?’ She looked up at Andrew and explained, ‘Brian’s a quite expert magician. But that’s a new trick. It startled me, Brian. Why don’t you show Andrew a few more tricks?’