A Hint of Witchcraft (8 page)

Miles, sunburnt and smiling, had been leaning against the car at the Humberts' gate and came to meet them.

‘I wondered – hoped – thought you might like me to run you into town.'

He had greeted Linden but it was Margot he addressed.

‘I'd love it but I don't think I should go. These berries will have to be hulled' – she was beginning to hate them – ‘and there are other things.… We aren't sure when Alex will turn up.'

‘Unfortunately I can't wait.' His grandmother was unwell. He had been dispatched with a prescription to the chemist in Elmdon and had promised to be back by twelve. ‘May I come down later? This evening?'

‘Yes, do. Alex will be home by then. Or come this afternoon if you can.'

‘I'd like to.' He climbed into his car.

‘I wonder.…' Linden had not yet spoken. ‘You could save me from an awkward situation. It's been worrying me. I called at the office this morning with a message for Mr Embleton – actually it's my Saturday off – and forgot to tell him that the client he was expecting at twelve-thirty had telephoned yesterday that he would be coming earlier. There'd still be time to warn him if you could.…'

‘Certainly. Hop in.'

Miss Burdon waved from her open door as the car passed. Linden returned the wave. Such a charming girl, delightful smile, faultless teeth; and how reassuring to meet a young woman of such refinement. Margot was a dear girl but she could learn a good deal from her friend, acquire a little of the polish not to be found in Ashlaw. And young Mr Rilston. The two young people had much in common, coming from a similar background. Miss Burdon was a believer in the importance of backgrounds. Their fathers had served in the same regiment, both, alas, killed. It was fitting that the young people should become friends – and very likely more than friends.

Their smooth passage through the village together on a summer morning suggested a romantic flight and roused in Miss Burdon memories of her own distant youth, though of course it was only dog-carts and gigs in those days. Iron railings enclosed the three feet of ground between the shop and the pavement and in that narrow confine an old rose-bush had put out new pink blooms. Miss Burdon inhaled their fragrance. Sunshine, roses, young lovers, strawberries successfully disposed of without the bother of picking them, the new consignment of delicate underwear – together restored her to good humour: until she went back into her shop and found that one string of pearl beads was missing.

CHAPTER VII

In a little more than an hour, everyone in the village knew or was about to be told that Katie Judd had pinched some beads from old Sally Burdon's shop. Ashlaw's underground channels of communication were alerted when Miss Burdon, bare-headed and wrathful, was seen striding down the lane to Monk's Dene, pausing only under the gateway arch to wrest the sleeve of her dress from a vicious briar.

‘It's just as I thought, Mrs Humbert, when I refused to have her in my house. I'm bound to say that you took a risk in having her in yours. The girl is light-fingered as well as all the other things that are wrong with her. If you take my advice you'll look round to make sure that she hasn't taken anything of yours.'

The attack had been sudden. Sarah herself had gone to the door. Margot, hearing Miss Burdon's voice raised in anger, had joined her mother in the hall, her hands once more blood-red. They had difficulty in getting a word in but Miss Burdon's manner was aggressive enough to put them instantly on the defensive.

‘Do come in' – Sarah indicated the dining-room – ‘and sit down. Then we can talk this over.'

‘Thank you but I haven't come to talk. I have come to ask Kate Judd to give me back those beads. Perhaps you would tell her that I want to see her. Considering the sort of person she is, I won't go to the police.'

‘My goodness, Miss Burdon, I hope you won't.'

‘Are you sure, Miss Burdon, that they aren't there?' Margot ventured. ‘I mean there were so many things on the counter. Couldn't they have got caught up in something? Please let me come and help to look. I'll just wash.…'

‘Bella and I have looked everywhere. Every single item has been taken out of its box and shaken. I wouldn't make such an accusation unless I was quite sure that it was justified.'

‘You'd better bring her, Margot.'

Katie had been helping to hull the strawberries, slowly and carefully. She and Margot had sat quietly, side by side in the old dairy, each with a big plate, a colander and a sheet of newspaper.

‘Come and wash your hands, Katie.'

They held their hands under the tap, taking turns, and dried them on opposite ends of the towel. When Katie had dried each of her fingers separately, she carefully wiped a trace of moisture from the back of Margot's hand.

‘You came to the shop, didn't you, to tell me.…'

‘Tell Miss Margot that Mr Miles is here. Would she like a trip to town?' The smile of pride in remembering faded into uncertainty.

‘I didn't see you. I was in the garden.' Recognizing signs of tension – a stiffening and quickened breathing, Margot added hastily, ‘But it didn't matter: you did what you were told. You didn't need to wait.'

Was the anxiety a sign of guilt or no more than the worry of not having delivered her message?

‘There were things on the counter, weren't there?'

Katie nodded, remembering the white things, remembering the white-clad figure coming nearer – and then the loud clang of the bell as she escaped. She began to rock backwards and forwards in growing agitation. Margot's heart sank.

‘Were there some beads?'

From the hall came the sound of Miss Burdon's voice. It had grown louder. Katie heard her own name. Her eyes, pale as a startled hare's, registered terror.

‘Did you pick them up? The beads?' Slowly, Katie put out her right hand, the fingers crooked as if to touch.

‘Miss Burdon thinks you took the beads? Did you take the beads, Katie?'

And suddenly Margot couldn't bear it. It was as if in a flash of understanding she saw the world as Katie saw it: a vast frightening muddle of disconnected events, incomprehensible people and strange sensations. The moment of insight passed, leaving her restored to a world in which Katie was a stranger. She saw instead the shrinking figure, the anxious face, the trembling; felt the awfulness of the situation, the awfulness of Miss Burdon and her beads.

‘Never mind.' She put her arm round Katie's thin shoulders. ‘I'll look after you. I'll always look after you.' She took her hand and led her to the hall.

*   *   *

Mrs Roper, putting plates to warm in the small oven, had been drawn nearer to the kitchen door by the sound of Miss Burdon's voice. The opening sentences were enough to convey a sense of urgency. The word ‘police' caused her to whip off her apron. It took her little more than five minutes to reach the Judds' house in Clint Lane and, panting, to raise the alarm.

Mrs Judd was alone and as usual at her wash tub. The small house was full of the warm damp smell of soap suds.

‘She's there, I tell you, without as much as a hat on her head and raising Cain. But she did say she wouldn't go to the police.'

Even the reassurance was received as a threat.

‘If she did it would be over my dead body.' Mrs Judd leaned for a moment on her poss-stick for support against a tide of troubles that never ebbed. ‘Slip along to Number Seven, will you, and tell our Emily while I get my good shoes on.'

She had barely eased her swollen feet into them when Emily appeared with a six-month-old baby in her arms.

‘If our Katie's stolen them beads, it's the first thing she's ever stolen in her whole life.' A faint reflection of the scowl darkening her brow might even then be seen on that of the infant: he was a Judd all over.

‘She'd mean no harm, poor little soul,' Mrs Roper said, ‘and she's never taken anything from my kitchen, I can swear to that.'

‘There's no knowing what she might do. She's not of this world and never will be. I've known that since the minute I first laid eyes on her. “What's this, Polly?” Jo says. “I think we've got the fairies to thank for this one”. “You're not accusing me of wrong-doing, I hope”, I says to him, “Nay, love”, he says. “She's taken after my mother's side. They were all pale and fair. It was the Judds that were always dark and gruesome-like. This one's going to be different”.'

‘He never spoke a truer word,' Emily said, and seeing the rare glint of tears in her mother's eyes added, ‘and he loved her best. Whatever her troubles, he loved our Katie best.'

‘And that's something.' Mrs Roper propped the blazer on the ash-box and turned back the clipping mat. ‘There's no taking that away from her. Say what you like, it pays to have a man behind you when there's trouble. With Rob away at sea, it's a pity your Ewan isn't here.'

Ewan had gone after a job at the rope-works in the coastal town where his father had worked as a boy. He'd got a lift there but would likely be walking back – ten miles if it was an inch.

‘It's maybe a good thing he isn't here,' Emily said. ‘He's got a temper, our Ewan. And little Stanley,' she referred to the baby, ‘he's the image of both his uncles, isn't he, Mam?'

‘I'll have to be getting back.' Mrs Roper glanced at the wall clock. ‘It'll be time to put the potatoes on.'

At Monk's Dene she ushered them through the kitchen to the hall. The front door stood open. Miss Burdon's ample figure filled the space it left. Sarah had subsided on to a chair. Margot, holding Katie's hand, faced Miss Burdon and as much of the summer morning as was still visible beyond her. An impasse had been reached. The Judds to some extent constituted a relieving force but little relief was felt.

‘I've heard what you're saying she did.' Mrs Judd ignored Sarah and attacked the enemy. ‘You may be right and you may be wrong. If she's taken what isn't hers, I'll take the strap to her; if you're saying what isn't true, you've got your own conscience to reckon with.'

‘There's no need to take that tone with me, Mrs Judd. My conscience is perfectly clear. All I want is my property back and no more need be said. Except that I never want to see your girl on my premises again. I can scarcely bolt the door of my shop, but I shall hold you responsible for keeping her away.'

‘Give her the beads, Katie.'

Of all the terrors Katie had endured, none could equal this. All eyes had turned on her, singling her out. All these people expected her to do something she didn't know how to do. Her heart thumped so that her whole body felt as if it would burst open. She strained her eyes but could not see for the mist that clouded them. Something terrible would happen – was happening.

‘Where have you put them, love?' It was her mother's voice.

Katie looked up at Margot who was a little taller, for help, and Margot yearned with all her heart to give it. She knew that when Katie swayed her head from side to side it was not in refusal but in distress.

‘I'll take her home, Mrs Humbert, and see what's to be done.'

‘I think that might be best, Mrs Judd.'

But Katie backed away from her mother, desperately needing somewhere to hide. A low dresser occupied the space under the stairs. Everywhere else there were people. Still backing, she found her way to the dining-room door. It was a few inches ajar. She slid to her knees against the jamb and turned her face from the company.

‘Let her stay,' Margot pleaded, ‘until she feels better. She really doesn't understand what it's all about. I'll bring her home when she's been quiet for a while.'

Alex was not surprised to find the hall full of people: the Humberts rarely had the house to themselves. But it was clearly a crisis of some sort. His mother's ‘Here's Alex' was an appeal rather than the joyful welcome he had expected. He had to step on one side to see, beyond the stately figure of Miss Burdon, the Judds, the baby, and Katie crouching by the dining-room door.

‘Such a worrying thing, Alex.…'

Never had Margot been more proud of her brother, more glad to have him home, more awed by his competence. He put down his suitcase; he listened; he understood.

‘What are you charging for your pearl beads, Miss Burdon?'

Hustled by so direct a question from the loftier heights of justice and of conscience, Miss Burdon bridled.

‘Four and elevenpence,' she said, with as much dignity as could be infused into words so mundane.

‘Then let me reimburse you for your loss.' Alex took two half-crowns from his pocket. Perforce she proffered an unwilling palm. ‘I hope by the way that your strawberries are doing well this year. I've been looking forward—'

‘Well, yes, as it happens.…'

*   *   *

To be deflated and mollified in an instant proved too much for Miss Burdon who quickly saw the advantage of leaving. When she had gone, the Judds also left, pausing only for a word or two – or considerably more – with Mrs Roper in the kitchen. Sarah and Margot fussed over Alex who, having travelled overnight, went upstairs to bath and change.

No one knew at which moment in the drama Katie made her exit. She wasn't under the dining-table though the big tablecloth would have made a tempting hiding place, nor anywhere in the house or garden, though it was a garden of winding paths and grottoes of shade where one could lose oneself. Margot meant to make a thorough search after lunch. The whole morning had been of the worst kind for Katie: the visit to the shop; the mistake – that was the only way to describe it – of taking the beads; the dreadful confrontation with Miss Burdon, the extraordinary arrival of her mother, Emily and Stanley; the threat of the strap. It would be some time before she recovered. On the other hand, Katie's states of mind were so unpredictable that she herself might be exaggerating. In any case, Katie would go home at her usual time, six o'clock, even if she didn't come back to Monk's Dene. Once before she had hidden for a whole day after breaking a teapot lid.