A Passion So Deadly

Five

On the second Tuesday in October Constance travelled to Bristol to visit her aunt as usual. But this time she arrived back at Chalmpton Peverill much later than ever before. It was nearly 1.00 a.m. Freddie was distraught.

He had been unable to raise her on her mobile phone and had spent the final hour before her eventual arrival wondering whether or not he should call the police. Ultimately he had set himself a 1.00 a.m. deadline before doing so — his wife just made it.

‘I’m so sorry, darling, I let the batteries on the phone go flat. Forgot to charge it last night. Stupid of me.’

Freddie was quivering with anxiety.

‘But where on earth were you? And why didn’t you use a pay phone to call? You must have known I’d be worried sick.’ Freddie spoke loudly, a rare edge to his voice. He could not help being angry, as people are when they have worried unnecessarily. It wasn’t like Constance to be so inconsiderate.

‘I had a break-down on the motorway, that’s all,’ his wife replied quietly. ‘Something to do with the carburettor, they said. And you can only phone the emergency services from those motorway phones.’

‘But they’ll pass on messages, for goodness sake.’ Freddie snapped at her, something he hardly ever did. ‘Why didn’t you ask them to call?’

‘I didn’t think it would take so long. They promised to be quick and I know women on their own on motorways have priority nowadays. Especially after dark. But everything seemed to take longer than I’d thought, including fixing the car. And when I got going again I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to get home.’

‘Well, I can understand that, I suppose,’ said Freddie, a little doubtful nonetheless. He was already not so angry, but still concerned.

He had gone out to meet her in the yard as soon as he had seen the headlights of the Volvo swing in through the gateway. Now they were standing together in the kitchen. She was still clutching the usual carrier bags.

Suddenly she swayed slightly, almost as if she were feeling giddy, dropped the bags without ceremony and clutched the edge of the kitchen table.

‘I’m going to have to sit down,’ she said in rather a weak voice, slumping quickly into a chair.

Josh was by her side of course, his tail frantically indicating his joy at the homecoming of his mistress. She had ignored him from the start and, as if desperate to attract her attention, the dog began to bark.

Freddie irritably ordered the Labrador to shut up and lie down — and only later reflected on how out of character it was for Constance not to make a huge fuss of the creature. The farmer had not really noticed before how tired and drawn his wife looked. He took in the pinched features and the wan paleness of her cheeks. He was even more alarmed now.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, his voice suddenly full of concern, his irritation reserved for Josh who had stopped barking but was now running agitatedly around the kitchen.

Constance nodded, although her appearance made the gesture a lie.

‘It’s just that it’s been a long day — and I think I’ve eaten something that disagreed with me,’ she said. Even her voice sounded strange.

Freddie had a sudden, disquieting thought. He sat down next to her and took her hand in his.

‘Nothing happened, did it? You know, out there on the motorway... while you were waiting?’

Constance managed a weak smile.

‘Oh no, Freddie, nothing like that. No, I was fine. I just don’t feel all that good, that’s all.’

‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry I was ratty,’ he responded. ‘I was just worried, that’s all. Why don’t you go up to bed. Maybe a good night’s sleep will put you right.’

She kissed him good night in a rather abstracted way, he thought, and he wondered if she was in pain. A little later he heard her retching in the bathroom.

‘I expect I’ll be better now,’ she said, as if by way of explanation when he went upstairs and joined her in the bedroom.

Freddie was almost as worried as he had been earlier when he had sat in the kitchen waiting for so long for her to return. Constance was always so capable, so in control. About the only time he could ever remember her losing control was when she had that row with William. He suspected that had upset her more than she had let on. Neither of them had ever told him exactly what had been said, but Constance did not have a monopoly on sensitivity in the Lange household and he was aware of the tension remaining between them. Rows like that were commonplace in many families, he supposed, but rare indeed for the Langes.

This, though, was much more than that. He wondered, the dread burning hot within him, if she were really ill. What if she had something seriously wrong with her and had not told him? He tried to get his imagination under control as his mind ran swiftly through a list of dreadful illnesses which could cause someone to be physically sick.

He continued to fret as he climbed into the big double bed beside her. Moonlight shone through the window on to them. Being careful to move as little as possible he studied her drawn face, the parchment skin, the slight furrow in her brow. God, he loved her. She was lying quite still, her features passive, as if she were asleep, but Freddie suspected somehow, he could not have explained why, that she was not really sleeping.

He lay like that, watching her for at least an hour. Constance was an icon to Freddie. She was his rock. He knew he had handled the problem with William well, better than his wife for once, but he wasn’t sure if he could ever give Constance the kind of support she had always given him, wasn’t sure if he was capable of that. She was the one who listened to his problems. And if she ever had any of her own she never let on. She was certainly never ill.

Eventually, fitfully, Freddie drifted into troubled sleep.

By his side Constance stirred. She studied Freddie closely, as if making sure that he was truly asleep, and then slipped carefully out of bed. She spent most of the rest of the night sitting in the armchair in the spare bedroom gazing at the moon.

Josh heard her moving, trotted tentatively upstairs and nosed his way into the room. The bedrooms were normally out of bounds to Josh. But the dog knew this was not a normal night. Not only did Constance make no effort to order him downstairs, yet again she seemed virtually unaware of his presence.

Josh wrapped his warm furry body around her legs and rubbed his moist nuzzle into the palm of her hand. There was no response. The Labrador moved away, tail down, and lay on the rug by the window, whimpering his hurt.

Josh did not sleep either. The dog’s every nerve was twitching. The hair on the back of his neck bristled. There was something happening that he did not understand. All night long his soft brown eyes remained fixed on his mistress’s face, lit by the white gleam of the moon.

In the morning Freddie woke to find an empty space next to him in the bed. He started into a sitting position. Where was she now? This was another break in his treasured routine. He always got up first. Then he always brought Constance her mug of tea in bed.

He pulled on his dressing gown and, anxiety gnawing at him like a hungry mosquito, set off downstairs, in search of his wife.

He found her in the kitchen, teapot in the hand.

‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘Thought I’d give you a treat and bring you a cuppa in bed for once. You beat me to it.’

She smiled at him warmly, but Freddie thought he could still see lines of tension around her mouth which were not usually there.

He went to her and kissed her. Was it his imagination that she was not quite as responsive as he had grown to expect?

He took the tea she offered him and sat down at the table to drink it.

‘Do you feel all right this morning?’ he asked. ‘I was worried about you last night. I wondered what had made you sick.’

‘Something I ate, I’m sure of it, I told you.’ She was all reassurance. ‘I feel absolutely fine today, I promise you.’

He nodded, hoping with all his heart that she was telling him the truth.

‘I suppose I’d better get the Volvo into the garage so that Bert can check it out,’ he remarked casually. ‘We don’t want the same thing happening again, do we?’

She spoke quickly. ‘I don’t think there’s any need. The AA fixed it properly, I’m sure, that’s why it took so long. They said the car was fine now.’

Her voice was back to normal. She was busying herself with everyday tasks, already preparing a load of washing for the machine.

‘Are you sure nobody...’ he paused, seeking the right words and not really finding them, ‘...bothered you out there?’

‘Darling, I’ve told you. It wasn’t very nice sitting alone in the dark with ten-ton trucks hurtling by, but I was perfectly OK. Really.’

Still Freddie remained uneasy.

‘Do you think you ought to go and see Jim Forbes? I’ll take you to the surgery, if you like. Have a check up, just to make sure you’re all right?’

‘Freddie, I’ve told you, I feel fine. I don’t need a doctor. Look, it’s market day, that bloody man from the ministry is coming to check out the piggery again, and we’ve both got a busy day ahead. Stop fussing, will you?’

He held up both hands as if in resigned apology. Constance, it seemed, was her brisk businesslike self again.