Death of an Avid Reader (29 page)

Marian said, ‘I am quite all right, thank you.' In a softer voice, she whispered, ‘I know where you are. Peter came to the wrong house.'

So the poor man had not intended to murder Professor Merton but to visit me. Of course, it was a simple mistake. We were on opposite sides of the same street and he had been confused. Since Mrs Sugden was so handy with a pistol, I guessed he would not try again in a hurry. But why had he come, and why did Marian seem so fearful of telling a straightforward story in front of her fierce protectress?

‘How far gone are you?'

‘Five months. I'm all right, but I slept badly, and my legs ache, that's why I'm resting.'

Mrs Donohue crossed the room. She stood, arms folded, uncertain whether to join in the conversation or order me out.

‘I'm glad Marian has you to take care of her, Mrs Donohue. I'm sorry for my deception but I was concerned.'

‘Well you might be,' Mrs Donohue snapped, though slightly placated. ‘It's not the best start for a young couple, but they've made their bed and they'll lie in it.'

Marian bit her lip.

So Mrs Donohue thought that Peter was the father. Perhaps he was. But the quick warning look from Marian told another story. Small wonder Marian was reluctant to speak.

I noticed a shopping basket on the table and a coat over a chair. ‘You were going shopping, I think. Let me keep Marian company while you are gone. And please, let me contribute to the groceries.' I took out my purse. ‘I'm sure Marian would like something nourishing.'

‘A sliver of liver,' Marian said. ‘I have a fancy for liver and onions.'

I handed over a sovereign, half expecting her to object. She did not.

‘What's up with your arm?'

‘Just a sprained wrist.'

‘Better use that bandage on yourself.'

‘I'll do it,' Marian said. ‘You go to the butcher, Mrs Donohue. We'll be all right.'

‘Well then, if you're sure?'

‘I'm sure.' Marian swung her legs from the bed and picked up the bandage.

When Mrs Donohue had gone, I sat on the end of Marian's bed. ‘What's going on, Marian?'

‘I could ask you the same. Why did someone shoot Peter when he came to bring you my message?'

‘He went by mistake to Professor Merton's house, and something had been happening that made us all fearful. I'm very sorry that your friend was shot.'

She opened the bandage. ‘So was he. He can't get over it. He could have been maimed for life, all so that he could ask you to meet me. I wanted you to know that I am innocent. Being sacked without a character is serious for someone who has to earn her living.'

‘It will be cleared up, and I will give you a reference if you need me to.'

She sighed. ‘I did a first aid course at school. Funny how things come in handy.' She put her pillow under my arm and began to bandage my wrist. ‘I was worried when you found out I was here. Thought you might tell someone at the library.'

‘Mr Lennox?'

‘Yes. You know about us, about me and Sam?'

‘Only since yesterday. He told me how much he came to care for you. He knows now that you did not steal books.'

‘Of course I didn't steal books. Much he thought of me to believe that old crow Carmichael. She sacked me without a reference and he let her. Men can be so stupid. But that wasn't all.'

‘Why? What happened?'

‘You must swear not to say where I am. Once the baby's born, I'm going to Australia with Peter.'

‘Have you married Peter Donohue?'

‘No, not yet! You don't know anything, do you?'

‘Obviously not.'

‘I waited for Sam, Mr Lennox, on the day they sacked me. I hadn't told him until then that I was pregnant. I threatened to tell everyone, make a fuss, show him up for what he was. He called me a liar. Said I was stringing him along for what I could get. As if I would have picked a pernickety librarian if I was trying to do well in the world. But that was the least of it.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I wasn't going to give up on him. Every night I went to the library. He's always the last to leave. Nothing I said seemed to touch him. She had convinced him that I was a conniving thief and a scheming tart. He shook me off, every time, and then…'

‘Then what?'

‘You won't believe me.'

‘Tell me.'

‘He tried to have me killed, to shut me up.'

‘Never!'

‘I said you wouldn't believe me. Well it's true. Ask Peter when he comes. That's why you mustn't tell anyone where I am.'

‘But that's preposterous.'

‘He doesn't want a scandal. Half the women in the library are in love with him. The men think he's a great chap. Who would believe me? Mrs Carmichael took one look at me and guessed my condition. Said there were places for girls like me, places where I'd never see the light of day.'

‘Marian, your landlady told me that your mother died?'

‘Yes.'

‘I'm sorry. When?'

‘When I was twelve years old. I was left with my stepfather and I can't go back there. It's out of the question.'

Now my theories began to crumble. ‘Tell me, were you ever known by another name, Sophia?'

‘No.'

‘Wells?'

‘No, why should I be? I showed my references and school certificate at the library. My name is there, plain for all to see.'

‘Of course.'

‘Who has been saying different?'

‘No one. Forget it. My mistake.' I began to feel faint. My head throbbed.

The door opened. A tall dark-haired young fellow in a shabby jacket and baggy trousers with long arms and bow legs stepped into the room.

Marian said, ‘Peter, this is Mrs Shackleton, the person you were going to take my message to.'

He took off his cap. ‘Oh.'

‘I was telling her what happened but she won't believe me. Who would?'

‘Aye,' he said.

‘You tell her.'

‘Me?'

‘Go on.'

‘Marian wanted me to tell you she int a thief.' He twisted his cap, wringing raindrops from it.

There must be more to be said, but an awkward silence hung over the three of us.

Out of desperation, I had convinced myself Marian and Sophia were the same person. Having discovered my mistake, I should go now, go home and lick my wounds.

But I could not. The injustice could not be allowed to stand. Besides, my now archenemy, Castle, had reacted so strangely at the mention of her name.

One sure way to encourage lovers to speak is to say, ‘How did you two meet?'

They both smiled. Good start.

‘I drew Marian's likeness.'

He went to the mantelpiece above the empty fire grate, took down a piece of cardboard and handed it to me. It was a meticulously drawn portrait, so lifelike and carefully tinted that it could have been a photograph.

‘That's very good. You are an artist.'

‘He is,' Marian said. ‘I knew that soon as I saw his work. I used to like drawing myself so I know how good he is. His work should be hanging in a gallery, not chalked on the ground to be washed away by the rain.'

‘I wouldn't take her sixpence, so she give me a box of chalks.'

‘That's how we got to know each other. One day we went to the museum together in my dinner hour, to sketch the animals.'

‘Some right funny looks we got there.' Peter returned the drawing to the shelf.

‘Is that how you earn your living, as an artist?'

‘I do what I can. Odd jobs in market. I was skinning skate yesterday. I shift bags of spuds, help some older ones set out stalls. There's nowt doing in the drawing line when the weather's bad. No-one stops to have their portrait done.'

Marian rose from the bed and went to a small brown suitcase in the corner of the room, opened it and took out a square silk scarf. ‘You could do with a sling for that arm.' She tied the scarf into a sling and helped me put it on. ‘What happened to you anyway?'

I realised I had been holding my arm. The bruise on my cheek was probably turning a fine shade. I did not want to talk about my misadventure in the library, but their eyes were on me with that now it's your turn to talk look.

‘I was in the basement of the library looking for something that might bring me to you, Marian, since you'd left your lodgings. I tripped.' I could have told her the truth, but I did not want to go into long explanations. I was here to find out information, not to give it.

‘You've come here from the library?' Marian asked.

‘Yes.'

She looked suddenly worried.

Peter gulped. ‘Might someone have followed you?'

‘No. I'm sure not. I was sitting in the dispensary for long enough before I came here.'

‘You should leave. Don't tell anyone where we are.'

‘I won't. Promise. And if you want to go to Australia, well I have brothers there. I have two families, you see, and my natural family, one of the brothers went to work on a sheep farm. But I expect you'll want to be in a city, to be an artist, Peter.'

Marian shivered. She drew the blanket around her shoulders. ‘Why would you help us?'

‘You were unfairly treated. I can't bear that.'

I almost had their confidence, and then the door opened.

Mrs Donohue appeared, very pleased with herself, basket on her arm. ‘I'll have to fry this liver on Mrs Wrigg's fire.' She put down the basket and picked up a black frying pan.

Peter said, ‘She'll want a slice then.'

‘I fetched her a duck egg, and one for you an' all, for your tea. Bring some fire kindling home.'

‘Aye.' Peter picked up his cap. He looked at Marian. ‘You all right if I go?'

‘Yes.'

Mrs Donohue said, ‘You'll earn no brass hanging round here.'

She dropped liver into the frying pan, with a knob of dripping, and went out, followed by Peter.

‘Marian, how did you find yourself here?'

‘Peter brought me. And neither of us feels safe.'

‘Whatever happened, I know Mr Lennox is full of regrets.'

‘I don't care what he is full of.'

‘Tell me, what happened between you?'

She patted her belly. ‘Doesn't take a genius.'

‘When did it start? You began work at the library a little over a year ago.'

‘Yes, and I saw straight away that he liked me, and I liked him, even though he was so much older. When his wife died before Christmas time, everyone was so sad for him. There was talk about not having a Christmas do, but he said we should have the usual fuddle at Powolny's, even though he was in mourning. He said life must go on. He sat beside me, and paid a lot of attention, but I never set my cap at him. If anyone says I did…'

‘No one has said that.'

‘She'll say it. Mrs Carmichael. Whenever there was something to be done after work, he would ask me, and I know that upset her. Nothing happened between us, but if our hands touched, he would blush, and so would I. For St Valentine's day I sent him a card at work, and he knew it was from me. I meant it as a joke.' She pulled a face. ‘I should have known better, should have thought about Bathsheba Everdene and Farmer Boldwood.'

‘Don't make me laugh, Marian. It hurts my ribs.'

‘Anyway, he had sent me a card, at my lodgings. Mrs Claughton teased me about it over breakfast, saying I had a secret admirer.

‘I was in work that morning, a Saturday, and had cause to go in the basement for something. When I got there, Mr Lennox was already there and asked me what I had to do and said he would see to it. But I just stood there, not knowing whether to pass a remark about the Valentine cards.

‘That was how it began between us, on St Valentine's Day in the basement of the library. Nothing much happened, but then it was out in the open between us. When we finished work, I shared my sandwich with him and we went to see a picture at the Coliseum, and we held hands.

‘It was very hard to be at work after that, knowing we loved each other but could do nothing about it. At Easter he bought me chocolates. He said he could not ask me to marry him, it being so soon after his wife's death.

‘In May, he asked me would I go with him to Whitby and I did. He bought me a locket and a ring which I wore in the hotel, and then afterwards on my locket chain.

‘By then, Mrs Carmichael knew something was going on and was very jealous. She started to pick on me, and to say things about me, such as I was seen talking to a sailor, and then another time that I had picked up a man in the City Varieties bar, and it wasn't true. When she said she had seen me talking and laughing with a pavement artist, I said yes and what was so wrong with that. That was when he first lost trust in me, thinking I was anxious to find a proper sweetheart that I could walk out with in a regular way. I told him that wasn't true, but the damage was done and things were not the same. He believed her about the sailor, and some man in the Varieties. My condition was practically showing. She must have guessed, but he had not, and I had not told him. I was waiting for the right moment when he would stop believing Mrs Carmichael's stupid lies about me and see what she was up to.

‘It was out of the blue when she accused me of stealing and produced a book that I was supposed to have put in my bag. That was 9 October, a Friday. He took Mrs Carmichael's part against me, saying why else would I have a book in my bag. Why else would the index cards be in the bin where I had been working? I went a bit mad because it was so wrong.

‘All that weekend, I stayed in my room and cried and cried. Then I thought, why should he treat me this way? I must tell him that I am carrying his baby and then he will see sense. I waited for him after work, every night, telling him, but losing my temper and he said I was acting the mad woman, the complete mad woman, and I said that was better than being half mad, like him. I watched for him, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. He had to lock up, you see, so he could not avoid me. Each time he either tried to draw me away, where no one would see us, or he simply marched off.