The Murdering Wives Club Page 11

  “Like you were speaking to someone. Or were you worried that people might think that you killed your husband?”

  Suddenly, there was a rap on the front door. A loud one. Someone had used the brass knocker and only strangers do that. If I ever had visitors they would come to the side door or tap on the back door and come on in.

  Tim fled into the parlour.

  With my coat on, I went to open the door but when I stepped into the hall I could see Constable Irvine’s distorted face in the bulbous glass, peering in. He waved in a cheery way.

  “Hello,” I said, opening the front door. “I was just going out.”

  “I just stopped in with Marjorie and she said you were only back from church. Going out again?”

  “I felt that I needed a stroll.”

  “In the snow?”

  I moved us towards the kitchen. I hoped Tim would make his way to the attic or out of the house. But something told me he was still in the parlour – hiding.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked.

  “I was passing and thought I’d check how you were coping.”

  He looked at my red coat as I took it off and took good stock of my new dress.

  “Thank you for calling, I’m not used to visitors.”

  “That’s odd. I was sure I could hear you talking to someone.” He smiled under that awful moustache.

  I had practised questions and answers but I had long since forgotten them. Thinking I was scot-free. The right words weren’t coming.

  Irvine spoke slowly. Each word was considered and rehearsed. His tone was smooth and velvety and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “I must tell you that it has been reported to us that you were acting very strangely weeks before John’s accident? Were you? Weren’t you supposed to attend a psychiatrist?”

  “I don’t know why John told you that – that he had made an appointment for me. He said nothing to me about any such thing. I was more content and I was making a life for myself. For us. John didn’t like me to seem normal. He liked me to be a bit ‘cuckoo’. It made him look like a saint. John was no saint, no matter what you all think.”

  I had let my mouth and temper get the better of me.

  Constable Irvine took out a notepad and wrote something down, grimacing. “None of us are saints, Mrs Good. But, right now, I think you are acting very strangely indeed.”

  The Constable finally went up the hallway on the dot of eight. The clock started chiming in the parlour. He cheekily pushed back the open door and pointed at the mantel. “What a fine clock! I’ve stayed far too long.” His gaze swept the room.

  My heart beat again in the correct rhythm because Tim was not there.

  The snow was falling again but there were more than Irvine’s footsteps visible. He looked at the path and was bound to notice the other set of men’s shoes leading away from the front door. He said nothing about it and neither did I.

  The pressure on me was immense. A mountain of worry sat on each shoulder.

  The Ravenscairn meetings seemed a long time away. I would have liked guidance and answers right at that moment. I thought being without John would have made me happy but it was making me even more insecure, less sure of my fate, less content and a great deal more lonely. I was also back in the position of wanting to poison Marjorie. She was getting more demanding. I had no need of her then. The Roses had been wrong about so much. I didn’t need Marjorie to vouch for me and she was just a burden. I hadn’t needed to seem more normal or have someone to speak on my behalf if things turned sour. I saw her as a sullen, spoilt brat who thought they were owed unconditional devotion.

  There was no reason to hasten things unless she really irritated me, but I found myself thinking of what might be possible. There were no stairs to throw her down. She stuck to the one level. Her home was on a slightly raised hill up from mine but the path wasn’t treacherous.

  Her fire cracked in the hearth and sparks flew onto her rug. Flames. Yes, they could spread easily through this house and she might die from the smoke. They say that it is the fumes that get to the lungs first.

  ***

  Ravenscairn was beautifully bedraggled on Christmas Eve. A Miss Havisham of houses. She was abandoned to the elements but stuck still in time like a broken clock.

  “Lydia, I didn’t kill him. I know nothing of how he died. I don’t need ... I feel I don’t deserve to be a Sinful Rose woman. John simply had an accident. I don’t know what to do now.” I’d practised these lines and out they poured.

  Lydia laughed as she poured whiskies. “You’re good at lying, I’ll give you that. But you’ve no need to pretend here. We know what’s what. You must stop that nonsense. You will be of great benefit to others. Once you set foot in this room, once you swore that oath to us, there was a cycle of events put into motion. Regardless of what you may think, we’re not stupid women. I stood up for you, Eve. Don’t let me down now. There’s no need for you to pretend here. We don’t think you are a bad person. We understand that sometimes men bring us to the brink and we can either push them over it or jump ourselves. You pushed back. You were brave.”

  “But I’m not brave at all. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m in shock about all of this. It’s been weeks, but still I don’t know how it happened. Please tell me what happened to my John? I think you know!”

  Lydia was the first to break the painful silence that fell.

  “Are you saying you wish to leave the group, Eve? Are you saying you don’t need us any more? This is a serious matter. We aimed to help you and you come here shouting that you owe us nothing. We asked for nothing but loyalty.”

  “Threatening me isn’t helping,” I said breathlessly.

  Alice cocked her head to one side. “Eve, we’ve done nothing. We’ve merely supported you in your endeavours. If you are not happy to be a Sinful Rose then that’s your decision. However, we will not take kindly to it. If we cannot trust you to tell us the truth, can we trust you at all?”

  “I know nothing though, Lydia,” I say. “I know nothing of note. Apart from this house, and where it sits. I know nothing that could damage anyone.”

  “I told you, Lydia,” Alice said and pointed at me. “If you think that we will fall for your lies, Eve, you’ve lost your mind. You are bound to us now, regardless of what you say. I can promise you something here and now …” she leant forward in the chair, “if you let Lydia down by speaking of us or if you refuse to keep your promises to us, then I personally will stop you breathing for good. Do you hear me, Mrs Eve Good?” She lit a cigarette. “Lydia didn’t realise that there are mad bitches in the world. She took it that sane women might need to murder but failed to realise that the insane ones, like you, would too.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “You most certainly are if you think that I’m going to put up with you. I’d kill you here and now only you’d make a mess of this nice room and we’d have to dispose of your corpse. I know from experience that that is not so easy to do.”

  She saw that I was afraid of her.

  “Regardless of your pretending, Eve, you are one of us now,” Lydia said.

  “I’ll have to help others to kill their husbands?”

  “And that would be against your conscience?” Alice scoffed. “Lydia, we are now in bed with a mad bitch who is a loose cannon. And I told you all this would happen.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Lydia said. “Eve isn’t saying she won’t help us in the future. She is just saying that she isn't sure she has the stomach for any more death and we all ... well, most of us know how that feels.”

  “She’s got the stomach for it all right!” Alice spat. Froth formed at the corners of her lovely mouth. “This one is cruel in the worst sense of the word. And now she’s trying to get out of her agreement. But, Eve darling, we all know that the police aren’t fully finished with you. We all know that you are a liar. Don’t count your chickens. You might need us more than you realise.”

&n
bsp; “I’m not trying to get out of anything. I realise I might need help. Honestly, I’m only saying that I don’t know what to do any more. I am lost.”

  “For the love of God, I don’t need this!” Alice snapped. “You knew and know full well what we do here. Be very careful about shrugging us off.”

  “You’ve done nothing for me. Nothing! What is so great about the Sinful Roses? I came to a strange house, listened to rules and regulations and got scared half to death and that’s about it. You women have done nothing for me, other than confuse and threaten me!”

  “Ha!” Alice called out. “You see, Lydia. I bloody well knew it. Just you remember, Eve, that nothing is all we did. Talking about it is all we did.” She nodded at Lydia. “Don’t let her blackmail us. She can say what she likes but she will incriminate herself if she mentions us. She is the one with the problem here.”

  “My husband fell … that’s if you had nothing to do with it.”

  Alice made a lurch for me but Lydia grabbed her arm.

  “I’ll kill her!” Alice said, her forehead creased. “You are some piece of work, Eve Good! I’ll kill you with my bare hands! You wanted advice on the way to dispatch your so-called brute of a husband to the hereafter. You got that. You should be here asking for help in getting rid of the police from your door. But no. The bold Eve Good thinks she’s scot-free. You come here, use us, and then think you’re going to win in the end. You bad bitch!”

  “Eve, I think you’re being very hasty,” Lydia grunted. “I was arrested many months after my husband was shot. You may need us yet. It is very early days and you are all alone in this world. It could make more sense to keep us on side.”

  “I’ve not got the stomach for killing like you have. That’s all I am trying to say. I haven’t killed my husband and I’ll be of no use to any other woman. I might be more of a liability than anything else.”

  “Pah!” said Alice.

  “Regardless of how your husband died,” said Lydia, “you are one of us now and you agreed to the rules. You sat there in that chair and listened and nodded and made an oath.”

  “I did. But the whole thing is blurry to me. I didn’t really understand what I was doing. I don’t recall it word for word. And, because John fell and wasn’t pushed I’m concerned that I will be of no use. I hate to say it again but you did very little for me. Unless one of you pushed John down the stairs for me? Tell me! Did you?”

  “I should’ve insisted you had nothing to do with us at the start of all of this like I wanted to.” Alice used a hanky and wiped the spittle away from her chin. “You’re spoiling everything and don’t deserve Lydia’s patience.”

  “You’re killers,” I pointed out. “I’m not.”

  Lydia’s glass was empty. “Are you willing to acknowledge the oath you made?” she said.

  “I can’t be of use!” I shrieked. “Aren’t you listening?”

  “There’s no choice in the matter,” Alice said.

  “What I’m trying to say,” Lydia said, “if you both would let me, is that there are many ways that the Sinful Roses can help you, Eve. And there are many ways that you can help us as well. Let’s wait and see what happens. Don’t be hasty and cut yourself off from those who could protect you.”

  “No matter what you think of me, I can’t kill or help others to do it. I’m simply not like that.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes at Alice. “Eve, you came here wanting to kill your husband. Don’t get all moral on us now. What’s done is done. We’ll have to think on what you’re saying. This is all very unfair. It was I who insisted that you needed us and now here we are in this mess.”

  “I’m sorry, Lydia.” I caught Alice’s glare and added, “Well, if I can’t stop all of this I may have to just make the best of it.”

  ‘“Make the best of it!’” Alice copied my tone. “You’re some bitch!”

  Chapter 19

  Laurie Davenport

  I’ve never really been fit for the nastiness in this world. For my entire life, I’ve hidden away from reality. Going off to war was supposed to make a man of me. The naivety of it! Do I believe Eve Good walked blindly into the Sinful Roses? Possibly. For I walked into a marriage and off to war without an iota of sense. Norah, however, thinks women are much more scheming and plot their lives out more. I envy them. I wonder what plans Norah has? If only I had the gumption to ask her.

  “These wives in the report?” I ask Norah. “The ones suspected of murder who started all of this – where are they now?”

  “At home, I presume.”

  “And can we question them?”

  “All of the files say they are above reproach. One was proved to be having an affair and talked about her husband’s death but talking about murder and committing it are two different things and there was nothing the police found to incriminate either of them. One husband had a shooting accident, the other would you believe fell from a third-storey balcony. Both have expensive lawyers and neither will talk any more about the ‘accidents’.”

  “I’m glad we’re almost finished with that Eve woman,” I admit. “She is warping my morals.”

  “She led us to Lady Dornan. Speaking of Her Ladyship, where is she? Look at the time! It’s well after two and she said she’d be here at half past one.”

  Norah puffs the cushions. She does it regularly and it’s a comforting sound. I can picture her by the couch, her red hair loose around her shoulders, her face concentrating on shaking my mother’s cushions. They will possibly be the ones with the gold tassels. My mother would have liked Norah. She might have raised an objection to an Irish Catholic stealing my heart, but I like to think that she’d have approved eventually. Father would never have approved and this makes Norah all the more appealing.

  “Before Lady Dornan arrives, I should tell you that I’ve found out something rather interesting about her. However, I want to see if she comes clean about it first. I’m warning you it’s going to shock you. But let’s see if she’s honest about her past first. I’ll go see if Giles has anything nice for lunch after they leave.”

  Norah puts on one of my records and leaves the room. What on earth is in Lady Dornan’s past?

  “Pardon me, Pretty Baby” by Rudy Valée continues to fill the parlour and takes me back to when Charlotte and I danced cheek to cheek on this very floor. Where could Charlotte be? We snuggled in each other’s arms and moved easily over the wooden floor and Persian rug. I thought I was in love. But I didn’t know what those feelings were at all. Interest, intrigue maybe. Lust – definitely. I was bored waiting to be a husband. Tired of trying to find the perfect woman.

  Going off to war gave everything a different sheen. If the casualties of war were anything to go by, the rest of my life was perhaps a few years at most, and I wanted to have sex. Unlike Freddie and Ian, I wanted a wife. I craved stability and security. The irony.

  Norah, even when we argue, lights up the darkness in my head. I can understand the romance novelists and their depictions of love. I rub my chin and admit to myself that I want to hear and feel Norah close to me more and more. I ache if I think she’s not happy with me or if she’s absent for a few hours. When she’s in the manor, I’m content but there’s a deep longing to smell her perfumed skin or touch her in some way. I never had those sensations with Charlotte. When I am alone, I imagine Norah in my arms all the time. How we might fit together in my bed? How her back might feel when she’s naked? Could she ever think of me with this kind of affection? Could I or should I ask Norah to dance? Can I still dance?

  There’s a knock to the door and Giles enters, declaring, “Lady Dornan and ... Mrs Davenport, sir!”

  I leap to my feet and stumble towards the door. “Charlotte?Charlotte? Charlotte is here?”

  Giles must have stopped the music for there’s nothing but the tread of feet and the swish of material past me into the room.

  “I believe there’s been a search party out for me, Laurie?” Charlotte says.

  It really is
Charlotte. She is back. I barely remember to breathe.

  “What on earth is going on?” I manage to say.

  “I’m here too, Laurie!” Lady Dornan’s voice rings out like a church bell.

  She is known for her loud demeanour. I’d forgotten that.

  “Charlotte turned up at my door recently and I thought we should make the journey together. You did want to see me? You look like you’re not glad to see either of us!”

  “I’ll bring some tea, sir,” Giles says.

  I can tell he’s surprised but calm. I try to be the same way. My shock simmers down and I sit. I aim to listen. Some of my best recent insights have happened when I’ve been silent.

  “May we sit down at all?” Charlotte asks. She flops into the chair she knows is my favourite one.

  I can picture her lounging back, legs elegantly crossed. And she’s smoking. I can smell the long cigarette and imagine the holder balanced in her slender fingers. That blonde hair is possibly under a fashionable, expensive hat and her petite frame clothed in a designer jacket and skirt. She’s possibly wearing my mother’s pearls. I should ask for them to be returned.

  Lady Dornan sits noisily and I try to recall her face. She was never pleasant-looking, more distinguished. I remembered she had a sharp nose and was shockingly thin. Yes. We joked she should be called Lady Lollipop.

  “I’ve been abroad,” Charlotte says. “I was unaware that my departure caused so much worry. That was until I spoke with Lady Dornan.”

  “Where were you?” I ask, not fully caring. “Where abroad? We are at war!”

  “All over the place. Does it matter?”

  “I believe you have questions about my house in Netterby?” Lady Dornan says.

  The tension in the room is suddenly palpable.

  “Eh, yes,” I say. Where on earth is Norah? I could do with her back-up and the information she has. Also women are scaring me these days and I am literally in the dark about what to do or say next.