The Death of Ruth (12 page)

I feel quite unable to cope with being in love. No matter how I try, and God knows I try all the time, I find it impossible not to think of Lorraine. I tell myself that I am a conceited, deluded fool, then I recall the way Lorraine looked at me and I know that in no way was I deluded. I knew that she, also, was in love. My longing to see, just to see her, made me edgy, impatient with Molly, which led me into feeling even more edgy.

One afternoon, thinking of Lorraine, I had sighed deeply and looking at Molly, I suggested that maybe she would like to lie down, ‘You have been sitting up for hours,' I said, ‘Let me help you to your room, make you some coffee and …'

As though I had not spoken, Molly spoke, saying, ‘John, where is Ralph? He should have been home weeks ago. You must have heard from him? What are you hiding from me? Why hasn't Jodie been to see me? What has been happening during my—my illness?'

Her voice trailed off into silence. I knew that she could not bear to remember that evening by the rock-garden. ‘Please, Molly,' I pleaded, anxiously, ‘Please don't become so upset, so excited.'

I had reason to be anxious because Molly was standing, clinging to the chair and the red spots on her chalk white face were as vivid as the lipstick spots she had worn a month ago.

‘Please, Molly!' I begged and my voice grew louder, for Molly obviously was not hearing me. She had also raised her voice and was rambling on about Ralph, about me, keeping secrets from her and as she continued on, Grey walked into the living room unannounced. He stood
watching and listening with interest and also with pity, and whilst Molly continued her incoherent questions, Grey caught my eye, signalling that he wished to speak with me urgently. Then he explained placatingly, to Molly, that Jodie and her husband had been away on a fishing trip.

‘They will be returning to the city in a few days' time,' he said, ‘And then, of course, Jodie will be over to see you.'

He inveigled Molly into agreeing that she should lie down for a while and when she agreed, he praised her good sense, and he went on to tell her that Ralph Moyston had returned to the city, but that for the time being he had decided not to come back to his old home, preferring to live in a rooming house.

‘Now that you are feeling so much better, Mrs Blake,' Grey said gently, ‘I am sure that you will be having visitors.'

Molly looked from Grey to me, and back again to Grey. ‘Are you speaking the truth?' she then asked quietly.

Grey replied, saying, ‘Why should I lie to you? Is something on your mind? If so, would you care to tell me, to confide in me?'

Molly's hands went to her ears as though she were in pain, ‘I must lie down,' she said, ‘I must lie down …'

I helped her to the bedroom, and feeling a rush of tenderness, as I tucked her in, I brushed her forehead with my lips, and her eyes filled with tears, then she turned her face to the wall. I left the room, hurriedly, my own eyes ablur. Strangely, nostalgically, I thought back to that evening, many years ago, when we had been so young and had worn borrowed plumes to go to the theatre.

It seemed a very long time ago. My memories were interrupted by Grey, asking if Molly was all right, and I liked him for his liking of Molly.

‘She seems OK,' I replied, ‘Poor darling!' Then I smiled, wryly, for I, in all our married life, had never used the
endearment ‘darling' to Molly. Dear, I had always called her ‘dear'.

‘John,' Grey interrupted my thoughts again, saying, ‘Come out into the yard. I don't want your wife overhearing what I have to say.'

Standing by the rock-garden, Grey told me that Ralph Moyston was in for trouble, that he had been called in for further questioning about the disappearance of his wife, Ruth Moyston. Grey went on explaining to me that I had been correct in saying that Ralph had left the city to roam around the country districts but that he had not gone alone, that a woman had accompanied him on his travels.

‘Yes,' Grey grinned, ‘The nice lady, Maisie, my barmaid pal mentioned to me.'

‘Just a moment,' I complained. ‘Why the hell shouldn't Ralph have a girlfriend and travel with her?'

‘No reason why not,' said Grey. ‘However, they were away for merely a week or two then on returning to the city they have been living together at the Railway Hotel—'

Again I interrupted, ‘Living together! Is that a crime?'

‘Cool it, John! Hold your horses!' Grey was becoming impatient. ‘Moyston, the fool, had recently applied for a marriage licence—and under his real name at that. I, or I should say, the police who had been watching and waiting, pounced on him.'

I stood aghast and silent. ‘It's amazing,' Grey added, smugly, ‘What criminals think they can get away with, especially murderers—killers.'

‘I can't think of Ralph as a murderer,' I said dazedly. If he killed Ruth, it must have been an accident.'

The enormity of the entire thing suddenly struck me. ‘Grey,' I said, ‘this could be a ghastly business.'

‘Yes, it could,' Grey agreed, ‘and John, I guarantee you that it will be. Murder is never a pleasant business and I swear a murder took place.' He went on to say that Ralph
was running true to form and refusing to answer any questions and that the only statememt he had made was, ‘If it is true that my wife is dead, I did not kill her.'

‘Maybe …?' I began hopefully.

‘No, John,' Grey stopped me, ‘Moyston is as guilty as hell. Our big problem is that we can't hold him. However, he can't leave the city and will have to report in every day and …'

Grey had gone on explaining the intricate machinations of the law to me and then seeing that I was really upset by his news about Ralph, he changed his tone and advised me to keep the news from Molly, saying, ‘She will know soon enough, and in my opinion, the later the better. She's in no fit state to deal with this, and of course, you realize that more than likely both of you could be drawn into this sordid business.'

He lowered his voice. ‘John, your wife is in for one hell of a shock! If this mess turns out as I think it will, I really do advise you to up stakes, leave this district. I'm no doctor, but I'm certain it would be better for Mrs Blake. New surroundings can work wonders with people's health.' He looked at me hopefully.

I nodded. ‘You may be right,' I said. ‘You may be right!' And for one giddying second I envisioned the face of Lorraine Prentice.

I closed my eyes on that dream and when I opened them again I saw only the reality of life, the grim years ahead. Grey asked me if I would accompany him while he told Jodie and Rob Moyston about their father.

‘No!' I objected, ‘Don't ask that of me. I have known them since they were small children. I am deeply fond of them.'

Grey was understanding and went off by himself to do the unpleasant job. I went back inside and prepared tea and toast for Molly, but I ate the snack myself, for she was
asleep. The toast tasted like cottonwool in my mouth and the tea was bitter.

Molly stayed in bed all day yesterday and I just loafed around the house, unable to concentrate, not even the Sunday papers interested me, that is, after I had ratted through them with some vulgar curiosity, to see if there was any mention of Ralph. There was no mention.

At a loss, I wandered about the house. I knew that I should go to Jodie and Rob. I knew that they would both be extremely worried about their father, and I knew that Grey would have forbidden them to come to our place. They had probably been instructed not to telephone me either, just in case Molly happened to answer the telephone.

At last, in desperation I went over to Grey's apartment but he was not at home. I was annoyed with him for keeping me in suspense. The least he could have done was to let me know how Rob and Jodie had taken the news.

It was evening when the telephone finally rang and when I heard Grey's voice I was as relieved as a boy is when his girl calls after a lovers' quarrel. ‘Where the hell are you?' I yelled. He replied telling me that he was not deaf. That he had spoken to Ralph and that Ralph was still sticking to his statement, that he knew nothing about the whereabouts of Ruth Moyston, either dead or alive.

I was about to ask Grey about Jodie and Rob but hearing a slight sound, I turned and saw Molly clinging to the door frame. ‘What is it?' she whispered. ‘What is wrong?'

I spoke into the telephone, saying calmly, ‘Nothing is wrong, Molly, Mr Grey just wants to know if you are feeling better, and if so would I be free to go and …'

‘And—what?' Molly asked in the strangest little voice, ‘Go and do … what …?'

‘And—what?' came Grey's voice. ‘John, do you have to be such a fool? I'm in the city, I am at Headquarters.'

‘Oh!' I spoke artificially, ‘I was just telling Molly you
wanted me to come over and finish that game of chess.'

‘John,' Grey said, with his ability to pick up situations, ‘I'll be in touch with you, OK?'

‘OK,' I replied and placing the receiver down, I smiled and explained to Molly that Grey sent her his regards and that he wanted to come on the following evening for a game of chess. Then I helped her along the hall, past that room we had once hopefully called the nursery and settling her into bed, I prepared a bowl of soup and sat by her, insisting that she take it. Obediently she sipped a few spoonfuls and then lying back against the pillows she asked if she could have her sedative. I gave her the prescribed dose and then she asked me if I would leave the bottle of tablets beside her bed.

Her request startled me.

Noticing my reaction to her request, she whispered, ‘Don't you trust me? It's just that I like to know they're there—for tomorrow night.'

‘Sure,' I smiled. ‘Like insurance, eh!' Placing the bottle on her bedside table I went to my own room and flung myself on the bed fully dressed.

I had meant to rest there just for a short time but I awoke with a jolt six hours later. My light was on? Of course! I had left it on! I was fully dressed? Of course! That was the way I had been when I lay down! Then—why had I woken up feeling so uneasy, so full of foreboding?

Those tablets! That bottle of tablets … I hurried into Molly's room and turned on the centre light. She lay curled up, like a child, her hands clasped against her cheek. So still, so …? Had she taken an overdose of tablets?

I picked up the bottle, almost knowing that I was too late and through my mind flashed the ugly thought that I could be placed in Ralph Moyston's position. I felt some sympathy for Ralph, then a flood of feeling for Molly took over, and my hand that was holding the bottle trembled. I saw
that she was sleeping quietly and comfortably, and I counted the tablets.

When I realized that the full quota of tablets was still in the bottle I returned to my room, taking one tablet with me. After swallowing it I lay on my bed, and waited impatiently for the sedative to take effect. Just before sleep took over, I made up my mind not to go to work the following day. I would stay at home and take care of Molly.

When John stayed home from work I suspected that something was being withheld from me. Spending that Sunday lying in bed all day, sapped the little strength I had gained. I could not stand up, I tried to several times but ended up crumpled like a rag doll on the worn carpet by the bed. Each time John came in and lifted me back on to my bed.

The third time it happened he became quite angry. ‘Molly,' he admonished, and his voice came from behind tightly stretched lips, ‘if you attempt to get out of bed again I'm calling the doctor and
telling him to cart you off to hospital
!'

I caught at his hand and promised that I would not get out of bed again. My promise was sincere for I was frightened that he would keep his word.

I had noticed a new weariness in him. It seemed to me that John rather hoped that I would disobey and then he would be free of me, at least for a while. I am terribly sorry for John. He has been so contented, so satisfied, in a way, for the past year. I suspected that it was because of his friendship with Miss Prentice.

Had she gone away? Was she still at the library and had she and John lost interest in each other? I was certain that on John's side that was not so. I felt that his depression was connected with a break between them, whatever it was. I was distressed that John's happiness had gone from him, and suddenly, I felt that I had to know why and there was a way of finding out! If I could have the house to myself I would telephone the library.

I waited until three o'clock, then, ‘John!' I called, in a
lively, cheerful voice and he came at once. He stood in the doorway, saying, ‘Yes, dear?'

I smiled, ‘John, it is the queerest thing—but—John, I would like a dish of chocolate ice-cream. I have quite a craving for it.'

‘My goodness!' John was so surprised, and so was I for I had not heard him use that expression for years, then he said that he would go and buy some at once and when he had left the house I crept from my bed.

I wobbled along the hallway and into the living room. I had not used the telephone for months. I had not even glanced at the number-pad. Only a few numbers had been added to it and all in John's firm, square handwriting.

The library number was not amongst them and I was just about to lay the pad down when I noticed that the last number on the list was the Railway Hotel, and beside the name of the hotel and its telephone number, John had written, ‘Ralph'!

Steadying my mind, I looked at the pad again and I saw that John had not written firmly, but had scribbled the name, Gorman, several times.

Without clear thought and before I realized what I was doing, I dialled the Railway Hotel number and clearing my throat, nervously, I spoke to the answering switch girl, asking, ‘May I speak with Mr Moyston, please!'

‘We have no one registered under that name—' Before the girl had time to cut me off, I asked, ‘Then, Ralph Gorman, please …'