Latter End

CHAPTER 24

Life would be much easier if it could be arranged as in a play or a novel, where the curtain may be rung down or a chapter closed, and the action or the narrative resumed after a lapse of days, weeks, or even years. In real life there are, however, no such intervals. Whatever happened yesterday, you have to rise and dress, endure a family meal, and face whatever the hours provide. If Julia could have rung down a curtain before her interview with Mrs. Maniple, and rung it up again afterwards with what had been said between them relegated to the past, she would have confronted the daylight with a better heart. If it had to be done, she would do it. And if she had to do it, the sooner she got it over the better.

Nobody was disposed to linger over breakfast. The general gloom was definitely deepened by the arrival of the post. Jimmy looked down the table after opening the long envelope which bore his name and said in a dazed voice, “She has left me all that damned money.” After which he sat there staring at nothing, until quite suddenly he pushed back his chair and went out of the room.

The Chief Inspector and Sergeant Abbott arriving, first interviewed him in the study, where the party was joined by Miss Silver, and then, after he had gone unhappily away, remained there with her.

Julia cleared and washed up the breakfast things, sent Antony off to walk Jimmy round the garden, and then went through the kitchen feeling rather as if she was going to attend an execution.

She found Mrs. Maniple weighing out the ingredients for a pudding, with Polly in attendance. It must be a special one, because Manny didn’t weigh things as a rule, she just threw in butter, and flour, and milk, and eggs, and what not in a splendidly inattentive manner, and the result was a dream.

“Yes, Mrs. Maniple,” said Polly, and fetched the lemon essence.

Julia came into the room.

“Manny-could Polly go and give a hand upstairs? Miss Minnie had a bad night, I’m afraid-”

“Looks fit to drop,” said Mrs. Maniple. “Polly, you take and go along and see what you can do. There’s nothing here I can’t manage. No call for you to come back before eleven, so you get right on with the bedroom floors, and Miss Ellie can do the dusting.”

The table faced the long window looking into a stone-paved court with a very old chestnut tree growing in the middle of it. Julia stood and looked out at the tree. There was a story about it. A Cavalier Latter had hidden in the branches whilst the Roundheads ransacked the house for him. Everyone in the village knew that he had come home wounded, but no one gave him away. It was an old story-

She turned round from the window, to see Mrs. Maniple looking at her shrewdly.

“Well, Miss Julia, what is it? You may as well come out with it soon as late. It wasn’t Polly you came after-was it?”

“No, Manny.”

“And no call to look as if we was at our own funeral neither. There’s some that can be spared, and I’m not saying nothing about them, but no reason why you and me should cry our eyes out neither.”

“Manny-don’t!”

Mrs. Maniple had her hands in the pudding-bowl. There was a dusting of flour on her strong arms. The sleeves of her lilac print dress were rolled above the elbows. She wore it high to the neck with a little turndown collar of the stuff, and it fastened with hooks and eyes all down the front like dresses used to when she first went into service. An out-sized apron with strings to it was tied in a bow at the back of what had once been a waist. Her hair was still very thick. It stood up strongly from her forehead and was coiled into a large knot behind. It was iron-grey in colour, and if she had allowed it to curl it would have curled. Under it black eyebrows gave a very decided look to eyes which were as nearly black as eyes can be. She turned them defiantly on Julia.

“Now, Miss Julia, what’s the good of saying that? I don’t hold with speaking ill of the dead no more than you do, not without there’s a reason for it, but I don’t hold with pretending neither, nor yet with crocodile’s tears which isn’t my way, as well you know. And no good your coming here and saying, ‘Don’t, Manny!’ ”

Julia took hold of herself. It wasn’t any good thinking of all the times she had watched Manny breaking eggs, and stoning raisins, and buttering tins as she was doing now, to the accompaniment of the village news and all the stories of everything that had ever happened to everyone in it. It wasn’t any good. She found she was saying the words out loud,

“It isn’t any good, Manny.”

Mrs. Maniple tossed her head.

“Nor never will be if you go looking at it the way you’re looking at me! I always did say you’d the heartrenderingest way of looking I ever did see, right from a child in arms. And I’ll thank you not to, Miss Julia, for there’s quite enough to do in the house without your turning the milk and making my pudding go sad.”

She was scooping it into the buttered tin as she spoke. When she had finished she went over and put it in the oven. Then she went through to the scullery, ran the cold tap over her hands and arms, and dried them on the roller towel behind the door.

Julia stood where she was and waited till she came back.

“It isn’t any good, Manny. I’ve come to talk to you.”

Mrs. Maniple’s round, apple-red cheeks took on a deeper shade.

“And what was it you was going to say, Miss Julia?”

“I think you know.”

“And what I think is you’d better say it straight out and be done with it. If there’s a thing I can’t abide, it’s hinting, which wasn’t never my way nor it usen’t to be yours. So if you’ve anything to say, you come out with it and let’s have done!”

Julia said, “Very well then, I will. The police have got to be told about those sick attacks that Lois had. They’ve got to be told you gave her ipecacuanha.”

Mrs. Maniple’s colour had deepened to plum. Her bright black eyes looked steadily at Julia.

“And who’s going to tell them?”

Julia wouldn’t look away. She didn’t know how white she was. She wouldn’t look away. She said,

“They’ve got to know.”

Mrs. Maniple came up to the table and put the lid on the flour-bin with a steady hand.

“Then you can tell them-if you don’t think there’s trouble enough in the house already. What I give her didn’t have no more to do with what she died of than the turkey we had for Christmas, and well you know it-a drop of ipecac that wouldn’t have harmed a child-and the last she had going on for a week before she died! Go and tell them, my dear- the sooner the better! I’m not asking you not to.”

Julia said in a different voice,

“They think Jimmy did it-”

Mrs. Maniple dropped a spoon. It fell clattering into the mixing-bowl, but she took no notice.

“They darsn’t!”

“They think it was Jimmy. You know they had quarrelled.”

“No chance of anyone not knowing that with Gladys Marsh in the house-telling everyone what I wouldn’t repeat, though you know it as well as what I do! Like mistress like maid, and not as much shame between them as would lie on a threepenny bit!”

Julia said steadily, “They know about what happened the night Antony was here. They think it gave Jimmy what they call a motive. They’ll think he had another motive too. He got a copy of Lois’ will from her lawyer this morning. She has left him a lot of money. He didn’t know anything about it, but they won’t believe that. Manny, it’s very, very dangerous-they really may believe he did it.”

Mrs. Maniple said, “More fools they!” in a loud, brisk voice. Then she began to roll down her sleeves and fasten the hooks and eyes at the wrists. “And if I’m took, you’ll have to see to the lunch. There’s the cold meat can go into a stew, and Polly can do the vegetables. That’s a slow oven I’ve put the pudding in and you don’t want to touch it. And when the baker comes, tell Polly to take two fresh and one stale.”

“Manny-”

“What’s wrong now? I’m doing what you wanted, aren’t I? Seems to me about time someone up and told those policemen not to make more fools of themselves than they can help. Mr. Jimmy indeed! Why, he’d have laid down on red-hot coals and let her walk over him if she’d wanted to, more’s the pity!” She put a firm hand on Julia’s shoulder. “Don’t you take on, my dear, for I’ll never believe Mr. Jimmy’ll be let come to harm for what wasn’t much better than a common bad woman with no more heart in her than what you’d find in a rotten nut. You make yourself a nice cup of tea and don’t take on. And don’t let that Gladys Marsh into my larder. As likely as not she’ll try it on so soon as my back’s turned- and I won’t have it, and that’s flat!”