Chapter Twenty-One
TWENTY-ONE
Against the wall stood a small table with a brass bell and a vase of stiff orange marigolds, their somewhat acrid smell faintly medicinal. Daisy tapped the bell.
Nothing happened.
After waiting for a few moments, Sakari sat down heavily on a chair, one of two on either side of the table. “I must take the weight off my feet. Perhaps the young woman is correct about the desirability of regular physical exercise.”
“I’m sure she is.” Daisy glanced about the entrance and spotted a door with a sign: SISTER. “Shall I ring again or knock on the door?”
“Patience, Daisy. Perhaps she is busy elsewhere and cannot hear the bell.”
“In which case, I’ll have to go and look for her. No, listen. I can hear voices in her room.”
She was about to go over and knock when the door opened.
A small woman appeared, dressed in the uniform of a nurse, a dark blue frock with white collar and cuffs and a white, starched headdress.
“I’m sorry, I’m busy,” she said. She looked worried and more than a little vexed.
“Would you mind waiting just a—Oh, you must be Deva’s mother? ”
“I am.”
“And I’m Belinda’s.”
“Thank goodness you’re here. Your daughters, and Elizabeth Germond, arrived a couple of minutes ago, saying—”
“Mummy!” Bel dodged past Sister and flung herself at Daisy. “One of the prefects said Miss Priestman said we had to come here immediately and not wait to get our things and we don’t know why because we’re not ill, and Sister won’t believe us!”
“I’ve tried to ring Miss Priestman but she doesn’t seem to be in her room—”
“I wish Mummy had stayed,” said a forlorn little voice, as Deva rushed to hang on Sakari’s arm.
“Lizzie, darling, your mother knew we’d take care of you, Mrs. Prasad and I, and she felt she ought to go home to your little sister and brother.”
“That’s what she said. But all the same…” Lizzie bit her lip. “I expert my father would have been annoyed if she had stayed. He doesn’t like it when she’s away.”
“Oh.” Lizzie bit her lip. “I expect my father would have been annoyed if she had stayed. He doesn’t like it when she’s away.”
Daisy and Sakari exchanged a glance. Both their husbands had given up trying to dictate their movements long ago.
Daisy gave Lizzie a hug.
“We shall stay in Saffron Walden for as long as you need us, Elizabeth,” Sakari assured her.
“Would someone kindly explain to me just what’s going on?” enquired Sister, with a touch of impatience. “Are these children ill or are they not?”
“Not,” five voices assured her.
“Could we go into your office, Sister?” Daisy suggested. “I’ll explain what I can, though I’d better leave it to Miss Priestman to give you what details she thinks appropriate.”
Sister turned back into her room, her back as stiff as her headdress. She sat down behind her desk, while Daisy and Sakari took the other two chairs, Sakari with one arm round Deva, Daisy with both arms occupied.
Daisy continued, “The girls had a very disturbing experience this morning, especially Lizzie. We, including Miss Priestman, are concerned that they may suffer after-effects. Nightmares, and so on,” she said rather vaguely.
“Sort of like shell-shock. Also, Miss Priestman’s naturally anxious that they shouldn’t talk to the other children about what happened. ”
“Mummy, we wouldn’t! The policeman said not to talk to anyone.”
“Policeman!” Sister exclaimed. “Very well, I’m sure I don’t want to pry into police business. But the girls arrived without a note from Matron, or their night things, or a change of underwear, or their toothbrushes, or anything at all.”
Deva piped up. “Bella Sadler told us Miss Priestman said to run down right away. She’s a prefect, so we did, even though it was beginning to rain and we didn’t have our coats.”
“You’ll all be coming down with colds next!”
“It wasn’t raining hard,” said Lizzie. She felt her shoulders. “I’m not even damp anymore. Mrs. Fletcher, do you really think I’m going to have nightmares?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Daisy said cheerfully. She felt that expecting nightmares would probably ensure having them. Perhaps she ought to have talked to the nurse without the girls present, but then they’d have been worrying about what was being said behind their backs.
Sister was still worrying about practicalities, such as obtaining the girls’ clothes, ordering their tea—the hour for which was fast approaching—and whether she could squeeze all three into the two-bed isolation ward upstairs.
“Because I have four in the main girls’ ward already, two asthmatics, an upset tummy—”
“You need not concern yourself with tea, Sister,” Sakari interrupted. “We shall take our three into the town to eat. Such was our original intention and so we informed the school before coming for the weekend. May I use your telephone to ring for a taxi?”
With obvious relief, Sister agreed. “That would give me time to get everything organised,” she said. “I really must have a word with the headmistress.…” She started making a list.
The girls voted for the Cross Keys again for high tea.
Their appetites didn’t appear to have suffered from their disturbing experience, nor from the picnic lunch they had avidly consumed immediately thereafter.
Daisy and Sakari kept the conversation turned away from the Bridge End Garden and what had happened there.
Afterwards, Sakari had a taxi summoned to take the trio back to the San, though they would have been quite happy to walk up the hill. Even Lizzie was cheerful, looking forward to missing classes for a day or two.
Waving good-bye as the taxi drove off, Daisy said, “I’d be surprised if their teachers don’t set them work to do. At my school, one had to be at death’s door to avoid lessons. I didn’t want to depress their high spirits by warning them.”
“I am glad Miss Priestman thought to send them to the Sanatorium, and that Sister will arrange for all three to share a room. It is better not to wake alone from a nightmare.”
“Much. And speaking of nightmares, I really don’t want to go back to the Rose and Crown yet, in case Gant is lying in wait.
I was thinking of strolling over to the church for Evensong.
When we passed by this morning, it sounded as if they have good music.
Will you come with me? You survived Meeting, and if we sit at the back, you needn’t worry about all the goings-on, the kneeling and standing and so on.
It’s no farther to walk than back to the Rose and Crown. ”
“But it is uphill, Daisy. In the rain! And I would like to discuss your theories. We can instruct the hotel people not to tell anyone we have come in, and go up to one of our rooms.”
“Gant’s a policeman. They might feel obliged to tell him.”
“This is true. Not everyone possesses your blithe insouciance when it comes to concealing information from the police.”
“Blithe insouciance? I’d have you know I quake in my shoes every time—”
“Every time! You are hardened in deceit, do not deny it. Come, if we are to walk uphill to the church, we had better get going. I am glad Miss Bascombe forgot to take the umbrellas with her, so that we were able to borrow them.”
“She was in no state to remember them. It’s odd.… But we’ll talk about that later.”
The interior of St. Mary’s—Perpendicular, Daisy thought, though she was a little vague about architecture—and the music were well worth dragging Sakari up the hill. Daisy decided she would definitely propose an article on Saffron Walden to Mr. Thorwald, her American editor.
They returned to the Rose and Crown for dinner. DI Gant was not lying in wait, but as they reached the pudding course, a message was brought to them: He had arrived and wanted to see Daisy.
Daisy was speechless. She had thought herself safe for the day, though she should have considered the irregular hours worked by detectives. Somehow she hadn’t expected Gant to stay on the job late. After all, he had abandoned the triple burial site before Alec even arrived there.
Sakari spoke for her. “Tell the inspector that Mrs. Fletcher will receive him when she has finished her dinner.”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” said Daisy, pushing away her enormous slice of sponge cake layered with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.
“Nonsense, Daisy. It will do him good to wait. If you let him spoil your meal, you give him a victory.”
“We can’t have that.” Daisy took another look at the cake and decided it was still irresistible—worth lingering over, in fact. She savoured every bite.
After a twenty-minute wait, Detective Inspector Gant was even more irritable than earlier in the day. When Daisy and Sakari joined him and his silent acolyte in the writing room, he said rudely, “I don’t need Mrs. Prasad.”
“But I do,” said Daisy. “I’d be extremely uncomfortable shut up alone in here with two men who are virtual strangers.”
“But we’re police officers, madam!”
“So is my husband. Perhaps I should send for him to come and—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Gant conceded with a martyred air. “Mrs. Prasad may stay.”
As Sakari had already sat down and looked singularly immoveable, he had little choice, short of arresting her for obstruction.
It was a near thing, though, when a waiter brought in the ladies’ coffee, and Sakari decided she wanted a liqueur with it.
Daisy was sure she was just being awkward, and she guessed Gant realised it, too.
His face turned an interesting shade of mauve.
“Daisy, will you have something? A Drambuie? I know it’s your favourite.”
“Lovely, thank you.” Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. She could do with a bracer.
So Gant had to wait for the waiter to go off and return before he could start the interview. He paced round and round the writing table till Sakari said, “Do take a seat, Inspector. You are making me quite dizzy. If you insist on disturbing us at this hour, you must take us as you find us.”