The Catherine Wheel

CHAPTER 19

Mrs. Bridling, in the chair pushed back by Jane, sat bolt upright and met Inspector Crisp’s questioning gaze with the agreeable consciousness that no one had ever been able to say a word they shouldn’t about her nor any of her family. Go where they would and ask what they liked, they’d only be told the one thing. Bridlings or Bents-she herself had been a Bent- there was only the one thing to be said about them-they were good-living, hardworking people, Chapel members for the most part, and nobody could say different. She was buoyed up by these thoughts, and by the fact that she had kept Constable Cooling waiting whilst she put on her Sunday dress, a bright royal blue, her good black coat, and the hat which she had had for her mother-in-law’s funeral three years ago with a nice bunch of berries at the side to take off the mourning look. Her gloves had been bought for the same occasion and were still very good indeed, being too uncomfortable to wear except upon high days and holidays. They pinched her fingers, and it was a dreadful struggle to get them on, but they gave her a good deal of moral support. She was a tall, thin woman with a screwed-up knob of hair under the funeral hat. She had pale eyes, a long pale nose, and very pale lips.

Inspector Crisp looked hard at her and said in his rather jerky way,

“You were here helping Mrs. Castell last night, Mrs. Bridling?”

“That’s right. I’ve got my husband bed-ridden and my hands full, but he’s willing for me to oblige Mrs. Castell. We went to school together when she was Annie Higgins and I was Emily Bent.”

“Old friends-eh? Well, you were here helping. What time did you leave?”

Mrs. Bridling smoothed down her black kid gloves.

“It was every bit of a quarter to nine. I’d reckoned to get off by the half hour, but she asked me to stay and do the glasses.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t later than that-it wasn’t after nine?”

“I wouldn’t have stayed as late as that. I’d Mr. Bridling to see to at home. I’m sure I don’t know when I’ve been so put out.”

“What put you out, Mrs. Bridling?”

“The same as would have put anyone out-getting all behind.”

Miss Silver gave a gentle cough and looked at Inspector Abbott, who immediately responded by enquiring in a languid voice,

“If you left at a quarter to nine you were not so very late. But you had to come back for your scarf, had you not?”

Mrs. Bridling nodded.

“Left it on the drip-board. I don’t know when I did such a thing, I’m sure. And why I didn’t notice it sooner was on account of my coming over so hot with my hands in the boiling water. ‘Come out hot, go home cold,’ as my father used to say. So I ran back for it sharp. I didn’t like keeping Mr. Bridling waiting, but I knew how he’d carry on if I come in without my scarf. Very particular he is about my keeping my throat well wrapped up, because he says, If you go and get yourself into hospital through acting silly, well, it’s all very well for you,’ he says. ‘You’ll be comfortable enough and waited on hand and foot,’ he says, ‘but who’s going to look after me?’ So I thought, ‘If he’s going to be put about, it had better be because of me being late, and not bring all that up again about the hospital not being able to keep him on account of his being a chronic case,’ so I just came back for my scarf.”

Crisp said, “What time did you get back to the inn?”

The pale eyes dwelt upon him.

“It’d be after nine. I’d gone a good bit of the way.”

“Did you see Mrs. Castell?”

“No. Her and Eily were talking-Mr. Castell’s niece, Eily Fogarty.”

Crisp said, “Ah!” And then, “Did you hear what they were saying?”

Mrs. Bridling looked down her long, pale nose.

“I’m not one to listen at doors,” she said in a virtuous voice.

Frank Abbott’s lip twitched. He had never encountered an eavesdropper who did not preface his statement by explaining just how abhorrent it was to him to overhear what was not meant for his ears.

Inspector Crisp made the accustomed response.

“I’m sure you’re not. But if the door was open-”

She nodded.

“Well, it was and it wasn’t. I was looking round for my scarf, and I couldn’t help but hear what Eily Fogarty was saying.”

“And what was she saying?”

“You may well ask! I’m sure I never heard such goings-on. The poor girl was all of a shake. Seems that Luke White followed her into one of the bedrooms, caught hold of her, and used dreadful language, and if it hadn’t been for Miss Heron coming along there’s no saying what might have happened. Eily said she had to pick up Miss Heron’s nail-scissors and run them into his hand to make him let her go. And all Annie Castell had to say was, ‘Lock your door nights.’ Well, I thought the sooner the girl’s out of the house the better, and I didn’t wait to hear any more, I just picked up my scarf and ran.”

Frank Abbott said, “You live next door to John Higgins, don’t you? Did you tell him what you had heard?”

She turned her pale gaze on him.

“Indeed I did, and before I slept last night. I told Mr. Bridling about it whilst I was getting him his cup of cocoa and getting him comfortable for the night. ‘Emily,’ he says, ‘if anything happens to that girl, you’ll have it on your conscience for ever. Nothing but an abode of iniquity, that’s what that place is, same as it always was, and you can’t get from it. And I don’t care if you went to school with Annie Castell ten times over. I’ve been willing for you to keep up with her and oblige when short-handed, but I’ll not have you going over there again,’ he says, ‘not if there’s that kind of shameless goings-on, and Annie Castell with no more to say about it than lock your door nights. She was brought up in a God-fearing home, and she did ought to know better,’ he says.” She looked round enjoyably. “I don’t know when I’ve seen Mr. Bridling so worked up. Quite cheered him up having something he could disapprove of so thorough-kept on talking about it and hindering me. ‘There’ll be a judgment,’ he said. And when the news come this morning you couldn’t hold him. ‘The triumphing of the wicked is short,’ he says.”

Crisp stemmed the flow.

“Did you in fact tell Higgins what you had overheard?”

She gave a vigorous nod.

“Mr. Bridling wouldn’t have given me a minute’s peace if I hadn’t. I’d him to see to, and a bit of washing to do, and then I went in and told John Higgins.”

“How did he take it?”

Mrs. Bridling tossed her head.

“The way you’d expect any man to take it that was a man- clinched his hands up and turned as red as fire and then as white as a bit of curd. I don’t know how he kept himself, but he didn’t say anything, not till he’d got a hold of himself. I said, ‘You’ll have to get her away, John. It’s no place for a good-living girl.’ And he says, ‘No.’ And then he says, ‘Mrs. Bridling, you’ll take her in if I can get her to come away tomorrow? We’ll be married as soon as I can fix it up, but you’ll take her in till then?’ So I said I would, and glad to do it, for he’s a good neighbour and a good-living man if there ever was one, and she’s a lucky girl to get him for a husband. Many’s the time he’s been up half the night with Mr. Bridling when he’s had one of his turns, so as I could get a bit of rest. So I said to him, ‘If there’s anything I can do, you know I’ll do it and be glad of the chance.’ ”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bridling,” said Inspector Crisp.