An Empty Death (17 page)
Authors: Laura Wilson
She’d give Ted his dinner - a nasty-looking piece of haddock that was all that the fishmonger could offer - and then she’d talk to him about it. He was bound to have a sensible suggestion. One of the best things about Ted was the way she could trust his judgement. He was good at listening, he could always be relied upon to keep things in perspective, and he usually did come up with solutions to problems. It was rather a shame, she thought, that she only had a bit of pimply fish to give him in return.
Nineteen
T
he sound of Richard Tauber singing ‘My Heart and I’ greeted Stratton when he returned home. He felt dispirited: in the two days since he’d finished interviewing the nurses, the door-to-door enquiries had yielded nothing, and Lamb was breathing down his neck. Jenny was cooking, and the place smelt - not in a particularly pleasant way, he thought - of fish. She kissed him and made him a pot of tea while he went upstairs to wash.
he sound of Richard Tauber singing ‘My Heart and I’ greeted Stratton when he returned home. He felt dispirited: in the two days since he’d finished interviewing the nurses, the door-to-door enquiries had yielded nothing, and Lamb was breathing down his neck. Jenny was cooking, and the place smelt - not in a particularly pleasant way, he thought - of fish. She kissed him and made him a pot of tea while he went upstairs to wash.
When he came down, and was comfortably settled - Tauber having finished his warbling and gargling - in the sitting room with paper and slippers, she placed his cup on the top of the steel-cage Morrison shelter, and said, without preamble, ‘Can you imagine not being able to recognise me?’
Bemused, he replied, ‘Course not, silly,’ and resumed reading about the progress (or otherwise - the report was suitably vague) of the army towards Cherbourg.
‘I mean,’ Jenny persisted, ‘you would always know it was me, wouldn’t you?’
‘Mmm,’ said Stratton.
‘But what if you’d lost your memory?’
‘Well . . .’ Stratton lowered the newspaper. ‘Then I’d be jolly glad there was this beautiful, mysterious woman looking after me, wouldn’t I? What are you talking about, anyway?’
‘The oddest thing.’
Resigning himself, Stratton folded the newspaper and placed it on the Morrison beside his teacup. ‘Tell me.’
‘This afternoon we were going to go to the pictures but Mr Ingram telephoned Doris - Dr Makepeace managed to get through to his unit in Southampton. He said they’d given him leave to collect Mrs Ingram. She spoke to him, and Doris said she was made up about it. But when Mr Ingram arrived, she . . . Well, she didn’t recognise him. She wanted us to fetch the police.’
‘But she’d recognised his voice on the telephone, hadn’t she?’
‘Yes!’ said Jenny emphatically. ‘That’s the strange thing.’
‘And it was definitely the same man?’
‘Well, Doris said the voice was the same as on the telephone, and Mrs Ingram recognised it then, but I really don’t understand how you can recognise someone on the telephone and not when they’re standing in front of you. Well, unless it’s not him at all, but I can’t imagine why he’d say he was her husband if he wasn’t.’
‘A joke?’ suggested Stratton.
‘Ted, it’s serious!’
‘I know. But it’s hardly likely, is it? Has Dr Makepeace been back to see her?’
‘He’s supposed to this evening. I told Doris I’d drop by after supper.’
‘For God’s sake,’ said Stratton, irritably. ‘Do you have to?’
‘I can’t just leave her to it, can I? It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Oh, all right.’ Realising he’d said this with bad grace, Stratton added, ‘It’s just what with the Rest Centre and this bl—this wretched woman, I never seem to see you.’
‘I know, dear. He’s got a nasty temper though, Ted. I didn’t like him at all.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Jenny. It’s enough to make anyone bad-tempered, what he’s been through.’
‘No, but this was . . . Oh, I don’t know. He was rude, and . . . He grabbed her, and when I tried to stop him he pushed me out of the way.’
‘Oh?’ Stratton sat up sharply. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘Just bumped my head on the wall, that’s all.’
‘Well, come here and let me kiss it.’ Jenny sat down on the arm of the chair and allowed herself to be pulled towards him. ‘You steer clear of him in future, all right? He’ll only have forty-eight hours’ leave, so they’ll be gone tomorrow and you can both forget all about it.’
‘But supposing—’
‘There’s no point supposing, Jenny. Dr Makepeace’ll sort it out, and he’ll take her off to wherever they’re going and that’ll be the end of it.’
‘But—’
Stratton laid a finger on her lips. ‘No buts. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from police work, it’s never a good idea to get between husband and wife. Not unless she wants you to, and then ninety per cent of the time she decides she’s made a mistake.’
‘But she doesn’t think she is his wife, Ted.’
‘Look, it’s bound to sort itself out in time. Or maybe she’ll decide he’s a better bet than the old one.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Jenny levered herself off his lap, glaring at him. ‘I’d better finish the cooking. Will do you the blackouts later?’
Although the whiffy haddock had almost disintegrated, it still needed chewing before it could be swallowed, and trying to breathe through his mouth at the same time in order not to have to smell it was diffi-cult. Jenny was clearly having a similar struggle because, after several minutes, she put down her fork. ‘I am sorry, Ted.’
‘It’s all right, love. Can’t be helped. Is there anything you could put on it? Bisto or something?’
Jenny giggled. ‘You can’t put Bisto on fish.’
‘Well, what about some of that tomato chutney you made last year?’
‘I suppose so.’ Jenny looked at him doubtfully. ‘There’s a jar left.’
The addition of tomato chutney was surprisingly successful, as was the pudding - bottled fruit with the top of the milk and a sprinkling of sugar. Afterwards, while they were drinking their tea and Stratton was having a smoke, Jenny said, ‘Do you remember George, Ted?’
‘George?’
‘Mum’s cat.’
Stratton grinned at her. ‘I remember. It was the first time I came to your house.’
‘That’s right, we were courting, and we’d all sat down to tea, and George came in - he’d been wandering about all over the house, miaowing, and none of us knew what was up until you told us he was going to have kittens. We just thought he was getting a bit fat round the middle.’
Stratton laughed. ‘Your faces!’
‘We couldn’t believe it. You helped us make a sort of nest in the garden shed, remember? With old blankets and things. And he went in there, quite happy, and when we looked next morning there were four little kittens. We thought we shouldn’t change the name, so we went on calling him George. Her, rather - but we never really got out of the habit of saying “he”.’
‘I’d forgotten about that.’
‘Do you know what Mum said, afterwards?’
‘A few sharp things about both me and the cat, I should think.’
Jenny smiled. ‘No. I never told you this - didn’t want to make you big-headed. She said that you’d make a good husband, because you’d looked after George.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes. And you don’t do so badly with us, either.’
‘Well,’ Stratton, pleased but slightly embarrassed, said, ‘I’ve never made you a nest in the garden shed.’
‘Silly! You know what I mean. Anyway, I just thought I’d never told you that, and I should. That was it, really.’
‘Well, thank you. It’s very nice.’
As Jenny washed up before leaving for Doris’s, Stratton, watching her move about the kitchen, thought that ‘nice’ wasn’t exactly the word, but he couldn’t think of one that really expressed what he was feeling. Flattered, touched, proud . . . He went up behind her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘What was that for?’
‘I do love you, you know,’ he said. ‘I know I don’t say it much, but I do.’
Jenny turned her head, surprised, and Stratton saw that she was blushing. ‘That’s good,’ she said, ‘because I love you, too.’
‘That’s all right, then.’ Stratton released her, patted her on the bottom, and went off to carry on reading the paper.
Jenny left, and he tried to concentrate on the Russian army’s advance on Minsk. After a while, finding himself unable to concentrate for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he turned on the wireless to listen to J.B. Priestley talking about post-war conduct, but that did not engage him, either. In the end, he turned it off again, and sat staring into space, thinking vaguely about Dr Reynolds and Nurse Leadbetter and Mrs Ingram and not coming to any conclusions about any of them. By the time Jenny returned he’d given up and was dozing.
‘Mr Ingram telephoned again just before Dr Makepeace arrived,’ she said, taking off her scarf and patting her hair into place. ‘Doris overheard the conversation - Mrs Ingram recognised his voice and kept asking why he’d sent this other man to fetch her. Then Mr Ingram spoke to Doris. She’s sure it’s the same voice, and he talked about the visit and everything. She didn’t know what to say. They decided it would be best if he didn’t come tomorrow - she’s too upset.’
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘Well, when Doris told him about the telephone call, it was as if he didn’t believe her - thought she was trying to make trouble or something. When we said perhaps it wasn’t her husband at all—’
‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘Well, I did. He looked at me as if I was a complete fool.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘Oh, charming! I know you think it’s a stupid idea, but no-one’s seen him, have they? And he could have stolen Mr Ingram’s ID card, couldn’t he?’
‘But why would he?’
‘I don’t know . . . Because he’s fallen in love with her and wants to go away with her or something.’
‘Now you really are imagining things. Look at it logically. If—’
‘Oh, men and logic. It’s always the same. You look at the state the world’s in, because of your logic. And it’s got to be her who’s wrong, not him. It always has to be the woman’s fault.’ Jenny sounded unusually venomous. Stratton wondered if there was something else bothering her as well, but decided - for the sake of peace and quiet, and also in case it was something that he’d done wrong - not to enquire.
‘Steady on,’ he said, mildly.
‘Well, it does. Dr Makepeace treated all three of us as if we were hysterical.’
‘Well, you do sound a bit hysterical at the moment.’
‘Thanks.’ Jenny, who had been standing with her back to the mantelpiece, took a step sideways and plonked herself down in the other armchair. ‘What worries me most is that, for all Dr Makepeace thinks we’re idiots, he doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on any more than we do. He gave her a tonic - something to calm her, he said - and told us it was bound to come right and we weren’t to fuss.’
‘He’s probably right, you know.’
‘Oh, you would say that. You didn’t see her. She kept asking why Mr Ingram hasn’t come for her, and she was crying her eyes out. There was nothing we could say, Ted. It was horrible.’
‘What did Donald say?’
‘He’d gone to the pub. Doris said he’s pretty fed up about it all.’
‘I’m not surprised. Look,’ he added, hurriedly, ‘I know it’s a worry, but it’s not that bad - I mean, Mrs Ingram knows who she is, doesn’t she, so the rest is bound to come back soon. The brain’s a funny thing at the best of times. Yours must be,’ he added, winking at her, ‘after all, you married me, didn’t you?’
When they went to bed he sensed that a cuddle and a bit of comfort was definitely required. Not that it was any hardship, of course, and Jenny seemed cheered up by it, or at least mollified.
‘It’s all so peculiar,’ she murmured, lying in his arms in the dark.
‘I know.’ Stratton stroked her hair. ‘It doesn’t make sense, but neither do a lot of things, do they?’
‘S’pose not. But at least I know you’re you.’
‘That’s a relief,’ said Stratton, ‘because I don’t permit my wife to go to bed with strange men.’
‘Quite right.’ Jenny yawned. After a moment, she said, warily, ‘Te-ed?’
‘Ye-es?’
‘No, it’s all right. It’s nothing.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, as long as you weren’t about to tell me you’re planning to run off with the postman or something.’
Jenny snorted. ‘The way you’ve been going on, I just might. Well, I might if he was better looking. ’Night, Ted.’
‘’Night, love.’
Twenty
T
odd allowed some time to pass after the awkward farewell drink in the mortuary office - a finger of Scotch each in assorted receptacles gathered by Miss Lynn, at least one of which looked as if it might, previously, have contained body fluids, and with Dr Byrne conducting the proceedings as if it were a wake. Todd gave his landlady a week’s notice, and found himself some new lodgings - Eversholt Street this time, beside Euston Station. It was depressingly similar to his old room, but nearer to the hospital, which was something.
odd allowed some time to pass after the awkward farewell drink in the mortuary office - a finger of Scotch each in assorted receptacles gathered by Miss Lynn, at least one of which looked as if it might, previously, have contained body fluids, and with Dr Byrne conducting the proceedings as if it were a wake. Todd gave his landlady a week’s notice, and found himself some new lodgings - Eversholt Street this time, beside Euston Station. It was depressingly similar to his old room, but nearer to the hospital, which was something.
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