Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Was that before the cake was cut, or after?”
Sadie frowned. “Before. Soon after we first got there, actually. I saw Brian dancing with Tess, then Fiona came in and I knew there’d be trouble so I told Tess right then. She was really upset, so I told her we’d go down the pub as soon as Wally and Prissy left. She was only too happy to get out of there. Practically dragged me out, she did.”
“Did she say anything to you about her argument with Mr. Sutcliffe?”
Sadie’s eyebrows rose. “No, she didn’t. I didn’t know she’d said anything to him. What’d she do? Send him packing back to Cambridge?”
Violet turned, a lump of porridge dripping from the wooden spoon in her hand. Her expression mirrored the thought going through Elizabeth’s head, but she mercifully kept her silence.
“I’m afraid Mr. Sutcliffe met with an unfortunate accident yesterday,” Elizabeth said quietly. “He won’t be going anywhere.”
Sadie’s eyes widened. “He’s
dead?
”
“Yes.” Elizabeth pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about this to anyone until the inspector has paid us a visit. Most likely he’ll want a word with you. Just tell him what you’ve told me.”
Sadie’s mouth dropped open. Elizabeth had reached the door before Sadie could speak again. “If the inspector’s coming, does that mean he was murdered?”
“With Rita Crumm’s wedding knife,” Violet said, with unnecessary relish.
Sadie clapped a hand over her mouth. “Does Tess know?” she mumbled behind her fingers.
“Yes.” Elizabeth paused to look over her shoulder. “She’s extremely upset, naturally. It might be better if you don’t mention this to her unless she wants to talk about it.”
Sadie nodded. “I’ll keep me mouth shut, m’m. Promise.”
“That’ll be a miracle,” Violet muttered, but Elizabeth had closed the door on Sadie’s retort. Much as she hated to admit it, things looked black for Tess Winterhalter. It was hard to believe that that fragile creature had taken a knife to her faithless lover, but who knows what a woman was capable of when confronted by such an ugly betrayal.
If Tess was guilty of murder, she hated to think what might happen to the young girl once the inspector got his talons into her. Far better that Elizabeth get a confession out of her first, and then present the result to the inspector herself. Perhaps put in a good word for Tess. She wasn’t looking forward to the task. It was so tragic to think that a beautiful young woman could have possibly ruined her entire life.
The Winterhalters had already been served breakfast in the dining room, and Rodney still sat at the table, a newspaper spread out in front of him. He rose as Elizabeth entered the room and waited for her to sit before reseating himself.
“What’s the latest news?” Elizabeth asked, as he started to close the newspaper.
“The Germans have retreated from Anzio.” He tapped the newspaper with his finger. “It’s only a matter of time before Rome will be liberated.”
So many times she’d heard positive news from the front, only to hear of a setback soon after. Nowadays, everyone was afraid to hope, even though it seemed the tide might be turning at last. “Do you think we are seeing an end approach?” she asked cautiously, not really expecting a positive answer.
Rodney shook his head. “The Germans are not going to give up that easily. I have a bad feeling that they’ve got something up their sleeve. If we don’t invade Europe soon and get this war over with, we could be in for a good deal of trouble.”
Elizabeth sighed. “It’s hard to believe the war has dragged on this long. Five years. Who would have thought it could last so long.”
Rodney nodded, his bleak expression chilling Elizabeth’s bones. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t last another five years.”
The thought was so depressing, she dismissed it from her mind. Besides, right now there was an immediate concern that had to be addressed. She hated to heap more worry on him when he looked so downcast, but the problem had to be faced, and as soon as possible. She took a deep breath. “Rodney, we really need to talk to Tess about what happened to Mr. Sutcliffe.”
He seemed to stir himself with an effort, and his face was drawn with anguish when he looked at her. “I know. That damn inspector will be here soon, and I dread the thought of what will happen to her.”
“You think she was responsible for his death.”
It was a statement rather than a question. He buried his face in his hands for a long moment, then slowly withdrew them. “I knew that wretched man spelled disaster from the first moment I set eyes on him. I tried to warn Tess, but she wouldn’t listen to reason. She has my temper . . . I don’t know ...”
“Why don’t I talk to her,” Elizabeth said, her heart going out to the distraught man. “Where is she?”
“With her mother.” He looked up, his eyes dull with pain. “I don’t know what Daphne will do. Tess is all we have . . .”
“Let us not assume the worst until we know the truth.” Elizabeth rose, bringing Rodney to his feet. “I’ll send your wife down to you. I’d rather talk to Tess alone.”
He gave her a brief nod. “Very well. I’ll think of something to tell her.”
She left him alone with his agony, her heart aching.
A few minutes later, she found Tess alone. Daphne, it appeared, had felt the need for some fresh air and was taking a walk. Tess sat fully dressed on the edge of the bed, as if at a loss as to what to do next.
She looked terribly frail and helpless. Her dark eyes seemed to have sunk into her head, and the hollows in her cheeks were even more pronounced.
Elizabeth had to stifle the urge to put her arms around the child and hug her. “I thought we’d have a little chat,” she said, when the young girl invited her to sit down. “I know you lied last night, when you said you didn’t know who went into Brian’s room with him.”
A large tear squeezed out of Tess’s eye and rolled down her cheek. “I didn’t want to talk about it,” she whispered.
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened yesterday,” Elizabeth said, as gently as she could.
Tess shook her head. “No, I . . . can’t.”
“I think you know you’ll have to talk about it eventually. If not to me, then to the inspector. He’ll want to know everything that happened.”
Naked fear turned the girl’s face white. “What will happen to me?”
Elizabeth felt a spurt of anger for the events that had caused this young girl so much heartache. It wasn’t until that moment she realized just how much she’d been hoping she was wrong about Tess’s guilt. “That’s something we’ll have to worry about later,” she said, knowing she could offer little hope. “Just tell me what happened. Did he threaten you?”
“I pushed him,” Tess said dully. “He was standing in the doorway of the cellar with his back to the steps. I told him I knew about Fiona being in his room and that I didn’t want to see him again. He laughed at me and called me a silly little prude. I lost my temper and picked up the knife.”
Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw tears rolling down the girl’s cheeks.
“I would never have hurt him,” Tess whispered. “I thought he would have known that. But he grabbed the knife from me and I was afraid he’d . . .” She gulped and pulled in a deep breath. “I pushed him. He sort of stumbled back and I slammed the door and locked it.”
Elizabeth studied the tear-stained face. “And you left the key in the lock?”
Tess’s brows drew together as if she didn’t understand the question. “I don’t know. I suppose so. I didn’t take it with me.” She started crying in earnest. “He just kept pounding and pounding . . . I ran away. He must have fallen down the stairs in the dark and . . . and stabbed himself.” She buried her face in her handkerchief while Elizabeth waited for her to recover some control.
After a while she blew her nose, then laid her hands in her lap and continued. “I went back to the main hall to find Sadie. I saw my father and he asked me why I was upset but I couldn’t tell him. I just left him and ran outside. Sadie must have seen me and followed me out there. She persuaded me to go back in until after Wally and Aunt Prissy left. Then I changed my clothes and we walked down to the Tudor Arms where she’d left her bicycle.” She looked up, tears still rolling down her face. “I never meant to hurt him. Really I didn’t.”
“It’s all right, Tess.” Elizabeth got to her feet. “Try not to worry. I have a feeling this is going to work out all right for you, after all.”
She left the girl alone, hoping that her hunch was right. Everything depended on how soon she could talk to the people involved, and how long the inspector would be delayed before he arrived to question the Winterhalters. She could only hope she had enough time.
“Are you getting up, Polly?” Edna Barnett’s shrill voice echoed up the narrow staircase. “You’ll make us late for church if you don’t hurry.”
Upstairs in her bedroom, Polly pulled a face at her image in the mirror. “I’m coming!” she yelled back, and picked up the silver-backed hairbrush her mother had given her for Christmas. Pulling it through the tangles in her hair, she wished, as she had a thousand times, that she had Marlene’s lovely red curls.
She’d tried putting curlers in her own hair, but she only had to look at the rain and her curls would vanish, leaving her with the same boring flat hair.
She’d thought about getting one of those permanent waves, but the idea of being hooked up by a bunch of wires to a machine terrified her. Besides, if she didn’t like the results, she’d have to wait for it all to grow out again and that could take years and years.
Polly sighed and put down the brush. She wished Marlene would come home. She always felt better when her sister was around. Marlene used to cheer her up when she got the miseries. Now there was no one, except Sadie, and she spent most of her time with Joe lately. She missed her dad, too. Even if he was always telling her off.
Polly glanced at the photo of the smiling man in navy uniform that stood on her dressing table. It had been so long since she’d seen Pa she’d almost forgotten what he looked like.
“Polly?
Polly!
Get down here this minute. If I have to come up there and get you, my girl, I’ll box your blinking ears.”
“I’m coming! Keep your bloody wig on.” Polly jumped to her feet, grabbed her handbag and her jacket, and stomped from the room. She was wearing her best high-heeled platform sandals and on the way down the stairs she turned her ankle.
Limping into the kitchen, she felt like crying. Nothing was going right anymore. Nothing at all. It didn’t seem worth going to church. God didn’t listen to her prayers anyway. She’d prayed that Sam would come back from America and tell her he’d missed her too much to live without her. She’d prayed that Marlene would be sent back to England. She’d prayed for the war to end and all the soldiers to come back home. None of it had happened. None of it.
“Take that miserable look off your face,” Edna Barnett ordered, as the two of them set off for the long walk to the church. “What has a young girl like you got to be so gloomy about?”
“Everything,” Polly mumbled. If only Sam hadn’t gone and left her. Summer was coming, and she could have looked forward to picnics and rides in the Jeep and walks along the cliffs and cuddling in the car park behind the Tudor Arms. She got a pain in her chest every time she thought about him. When was it going to stop hurting? That’s what she’d pray for today. To stop hurting when she thought about Sam. Or maybe even to stop thinking about Sam.
No, she couldn’t do that. The thought of banishing him from her mind altogether was too terrible to contemplate. Even when she’d been going out with Ray, which turned out to be a bad mistake, she’d still thought about Sam. It was as if she kept him in a small piece of her heart, so that whenever she felt sad and lonely, he’d still be there to keep her company. Even if it did still hurt.
Engrossed in her thoughts, she failed to hear what her mother said, until Edna barked, “Did you hear me?”
Polly jumped. “What?”
“I said, I’ve got something that might cheer you up.”
Without much enthusiasm, Polly muttered, “What is it?” Probably a bag of broken biscuits that Ma had bought off ration. Ma always thought that sweets could cure the worst misery. A cup of tea and a biscuit. That was Ma’s answer to everything.
“There’s a letter came for you yesterday.”
Polly stopped short in the road and stared at her mother’s back. “A letter? Is it from Sam?”
“No, it’s not from America.”
Polly lost some of her enthusiasm. “Who’s it from? Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because it came while we were at the wedding, and then you didn’t come home until after I was in bed.” Edna paused to look back at her daughter. “I don’t know what your father would say if he knew you was coming home late like that. Staying down that pub all hours of the night.”
“I wasn’t at the pub. I was riding me bicycle along the cliffs.”
Edna’s face registered shock. “How many times have I told you it’s dangerous to be riding along the cliffs at night without lights? Have you forgotten that a young lady died from falling over them cliffs?”
“She didn’t fall; she was pushed,” Polly said. “Anyhow, who’s the letter from. Marlene?”
Edna shook her head.
“Pa?”
“No, I don’t know who it’s from. I thought it was Marlene at first ’cos it’s got a foreign stamp on it. I think it’s from Italy, but it’s not her writing.”
Polly felt a spasm of fear. “What if something’s happened to her and someone’s writing to tell us about it?”
“They don’t write letters,” Edna said calmly, though her face looked pale in the sunlight. “They send telegrams. Didn’t you send letters to a bunch of soldiers over there?”
Polly blinked, still shaken by the possibility of Marlene being hurt. “Soldiers? Oh, yes! I did! It’s been so long I forgot.”