Chapter Six
SIX
Daisy and Belinda found Sakari and Mrs. Tring chatting comfortably on a sofa. Mrs. Tring was knitting. She never went anywhere—even the pub, Tom had once revealed—without her knitting.
“Did anyone go in there?” Daisy asked.
“Only the two of us,” said Sakari. “It was necessary.”
“We didn’t poke about.”
“Mrs. Tring would not let me.”
“Good.”
“I might have noticed something of interest.”
“And you might have mucked up evidence. Not that there’s any reason to suppose it wasn’t a natural death.” Daisy frowned. “Except … I only had a brief glimpse, but she seemed awfully young to drop dead unexpectedly.”
“Daisy, the child!” Sakari protested.
“I don’t mind,” said Belinda earnestly. “When your father is a detective, you hear all sorts of things. Besides, Aunt Sakari, remember when Deva and I, and Lizzie, found—”
“All too well. I hope the local police here are less obnoxious than the ones we faced at that time.”
“He was frightful, wasn’t he?” said Daisy.
“DI Mackinnon is on the way. I know him, and he’s altogether a different kettle of fish.
He’s coming from Peckham, though. A couple of men from the Sydenham Station should get here first. If one is the sergeant I spoke to, he’ll be sticky, unless Mackinnon gave him what-for. ”
“Well,” Sakari observed comfortably, “you and I did not quail before Detective Inspector Gant—was that not his name?—and I expect we can hold our own with this sergeant fellow. However, I am sorely in need of fortification. If Belinda will go with me to help, I shall obtain sandwiches for everyone and bring them back here.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea!”
Belinda looked as if she’d rather stay, but she was a well-mannered child. “Of course I’ll help, Aunt Sakari.”
They went off together. Though Daisy was hungry, she was sorry to lose her friend’s support in the face of Sergeant Wimbish’s hostility. Sakari on her high horse was an awe-inspiring phenomenon.
“Don’t you worry your head about that sergeant, deary,” said Mrs. Tring, patting her hand. “I never met a copper yet I couldn’t put in his place.”
Daisy laughed. “I expect you’ve had plenty of practice with Tom.”
“So’ve you, with the Chief, don’t forget. I can’t believe a uniform sergeant’s going to bother you.”
“Not for long, anyway, with Inspector Mackinnon on his way.”
She didn’t have to test her mettle against Wimbish. Perhaps cravenly, he sent two constables, as Daisy discovered when she went to answer a knock on the door. The elder of the pair was a grizzled veteran. The other was very young and very red-faced.
“Come in, officers,” she invited. “I’m Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Are there any ladies,” the senior asked warily, “in a state of undress?”
“No.” Daisy suppressed an urge to add, “Not even the deceased.”
He took off his helmet. Stepping in, he glanced round the room as if half-fearful, half-hoping that a scantily clad houri would appear out of the woodwork. Mrs. Tring, large, placid, and busy with her knitting, both disappointed and relieved him. “Just two of you, are there?”
“As you see. This is Mrs. Tring.”
“Where’s Sergeant Tring? I was told he’s here.”
“He was needed elsewhere,” said Mrs. Tring tranquilly. “He’ll be back before the inspector gets here.” She laid a slight stress on the word “inspector.”
The reminder of the imminent arrival of his superior punctured the constable’s officiousness. “Thank you, madam.” Suddenly he swung round, pointed, and snapped, “Who’s that?”
Startled, Daisy looked. No one was visible, but he must have caught sight of Mrs. Hatch, she realised. Hearing the male voice, she must have popped her head out to see what was going on. Not that she could see much, poor woman.
“The attendant, Mrs. Hatch,” she said to the constable. “I forgot about her. Inspector Mackinnon is sure to want to talk to her.”
“Why? Did she see what happened?”
“Doubtless that will be one of the questions he asks her.”
Disconcerted, he snapped at the young constable, who had followed him in and stayed uncertainly by the door. “On guard outside. Don’t let anyone in.”
“What about Inspector Mackinnon?”
“Well, of course.”
“And Sergeant Tring?”
“I suppose so.”
“As if that pipsqueak could stop my Tom!” Mrs. Tring murmured just loud enough for Daisy to hear.
They smiled at each other and Daisy sat down beside her to wait. The constable paced back and forth. To Daisy, he seemed to be approaching closer and closer to the unfortunate Mrs. Hatch, huddled invisibly in her cubby. Daisy wondered if she’d need to go to the rescue.
Before she had to decide, the door opened. Tom entered.
“Constable, come and lend a hand.”
Responding to his authoritative voice, the man didn’t argue. They both went out, leaving the door open. Through the doorway came the confused sound of a crowd.
“I can’t abide people with nothing better to do than gawk at other people’s business,” said Mrs. Tring.
Outside, the voices of the two constables rose: “Move along, there. Move along, please.”
Tom returned. After him came two tired attendants wheeling a folding stretcher, then Sakari and Belinda carrying baskets, and last Ben and Charlie, both soaked to the skin. Daisy was afraid their lips would have been blue if not for their dark skin.
“I rescued Mrs. Nanny’s hat,” Charlie explained proudly.
Mrs. Gilpin’s lips were blue although she was swathed in blankets. She lay inert on the stretcher and didn’t stir as the men transferred her to a sofa. As Mrs. Tring bustled about rearranging cushions to make her comfortable, Daisy tipped the stretcher men generously.
“You fellows,” said Mrs. Tring, “and Tom, please go away. We must get her wet things off.”
“Bring dry blankets,” Sakari commanded.
“Boys, don’t go,” said Daisy. “Into the other room with you and don’t touch anything. Don’t you dare open any of the doors. Mrs. Tring, I’ll get you some towels. Belinda, come and help.”
As Daisy hoped, Mrs. Hatch had a good supply of replacement roller towels.
Though the same thin linen cloth as the hand napkins, their size made them much more useful.
After another generous tip to the attendant, she was permitted to carry off two-thirds of them.
She kept four and had Belinda take the rest to Mrs. Tring.
The four she took through to the lavatories. The boys stood sodden and shivering in the middle of the floor.
“We’re frightfully cold, Aunt Daisy.”
“Here.” She handed each two towels. “Strip off. Use one to dry yourself. I’m sure you have sufficient ingenuity to turn the others into some sort of toga to make yourselves decent.”
Leaving, she heard Charlie ask in a loud whisper, “What’s ‘sufficient ingenuity’?”
“Clever enough.”
“What’s a toga?”
“It’s a thing the Romans wear. I learned about them in Latin. I’ll show you a picture when we get home. Come on, get undressed.”
“I can’t undo my tie. It’s got in a knot.”
“Here, I’ll do it.”
Daisy turned at the door. “By the way, I’m proud of you both. I’ll be telling Aunt Geraldine and Uncle Edgar what a good job you did. You may have saved Mrs. Gilpin’s life.”
Mrs. Gilpin had been stripped and dried by Sakari and Mrs. Tring, as attested by a heap of crumpled towels and a neat stack of wet, folded clothes. They were wrapping her in a blanket that presumably wasn’t damp.
“How is she doing?” Daisy asked, approaching.
“Nasty bump on the back of her head,” said Mrs. Tring.
“I would put ice on it,” said Sakari, “if she were not so cold.”
“Is she bleeding?”
“It’s just a graze. Mrs. Tring cleaned it.”
“Mrs. Fletcher?” The nurse’s voice wavered. Her eyes blinked open. “What happened?”
“Mrs. Gilpin! How do you feel?”
“My head aches terribly, madam. What happened? Did I fall?”
“We’re hoping you can tell us.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t remember.” Suddenly her eyes opened again, wild with alarm, and she struggled against the enveloping blanket. “The twins! Where are the twins?”
Daisy put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back, saying, “They’re perfectly all right. Bertha looked after them and took them home in Lady Dalrymple’s car.”
“Oh, thank heaven.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I should never have left them!”
Though Daisy agreed, this was not the time to say so. “What do you remember?”
“I went to the … the ladies’ convenience. Is that where we are?”
“Yes. In the retiring room.”
“So the pool and the monsters were just a bad dream.”
Daisy saw Belinda begin to speak and gave her a slight frown.
Nurse Gilpin went on, “I don’t see how I came to fall. The floor wasn’t slippery. And how did I get so wet?” Her wandering gaze fell on Bel and filled with suspicion. “Unless Miss Belinda threw a bucket of—”
“I did not! I wouldn’t play such a scurvy trick. I and the boys rescued you—”
“That will do, Bel. I heard a knock on the door. Go and see who it is. Mrs. Gilpin, you were found in the pond at the far end of the park. Concentrate on that and perhaps you’ll remember why you went there.”
“Do not press her now, Daisy.” Sakari came with a steaming cup from the table where she and Belinda had set down the baskets. “Whatever occurred, she has had a most distressing experience. Here is some soup.”
“And here are dry blankets,” said Belinda. “The stretcher man brought them. Mummy, Detective Inspector Mackinnon presents his compliments and wants to know if he may come in.”
“Five minutes,” Mrs. Tring said firmly.
“I’d better go and talk to him,” said Daisy with a sigh. “I didn’t tell him about Nurse Gilpin.”
“Uncle Tom’s telling him.”
“I’ll bring him up to date on her condition. He mustn’t press her too hard.”
“Will he want to ask me questions too? Me and the boys?”
“I expect so. Yes, I’m sure he will. So will I! Don’t worry, he’s a nice man. He’s worked with your father more than once.”
“And with you?”
“Well, if you want to put it that way, yes.”