The Stationmaster's farewell

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Frances Impey was close to despair. She’d lived alone before and was quite capable of looking after herself but the situation was very different now. Her sister had been incarcerated in the County Asylum. It was humiliating. When Agnes Rossiter had scandalised everyone in the cathedral by her antics at the altar, Frances hadn’t been there to witness it and was therefore unaware of the full horror of the spectacle. Her sister’s second act of madness had occurred when Frances was standing beside her. One moment they were walking serenely through the city, the next her sister was smashing a window with a stone and climbing through it. All that Frances could remember was passing out on the cobbles. When the smelling salts brought her round again, her sister was howling piteously in the grip of two policemen. Such memories would haunt Frances for ever. It had been a shock to see her beloved sister taken off to Exminster but, in truth, Frances knew that she could never look after her at home.

She was far too afraid to venture out to church that morning. While she wanted to pray for her sister’s recovery, she feared the pointed fingers and the murmured comments from other members of the congregation. There was no hiding the disgrace. Everyone would know by now. Even those who offered sympathy would be treating her with more caution, as if she might somehow infect them with her sister’s mental disorder. Limited as it had been, her social life was virtually extinct. Frances would henceforth be the source of whisperers.

As she sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea untouched beside her, she brooded on the future. Though dismayed at the dramatic change in her own life, her thoughts were largely centred on her sister. How long would she be detained? Would she ever be let out? If so, what sort of condition would she be in? In the past, Agnes Rossiter had been the wage-earner and the more forceful character. She would be neither if she was released from the asylum. Who would even consider employing a woman with her medical history? What sort of life would the two sisters lead? The problem was that the madness had a public dimension. Its effects had been seen in the cathedral and outside the undertaker’s. It was the stuff of general discussion now. Frances could see only one mode of survival. If her sister was finally discharged, they would have to move out of Exeter. But the asylum cast a very long shadow.

Would they ever be able to outrun it?

Frances was still deep in thought when there was a knock on the door. It startled her. Who could possibly want to visit a house of shame? At first, she tried to ignore the caller, but a second and third knock showed that the person knew she was inside. Plucking up her courage, she went to the front door, opened it a few inches and peered nervously through the gap.

‘Hello, Miss Impey,’ said Dorcas, smiling gently. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh, it’s you, Miss Hope.’ She opened the door wider to check that nobody else was there. ‘You’re on your own, I see.’

‘I just came to offer help.’

Frances was suspicious. ‘What sort of help?’

‘Well, you may want someone to do the shopping for you or help with jobs around the house. I know that Mrs Rossiter did so much when she was here. You may find it difficult to manage on your own.’

‘Yes, I might.’

‘You know where I live. All you have to do is to ask.’

‘Thank you, Miss Hope. That’s very kind of you.’

‘I have to work at the refreshment room, of course,’ said Dorcas, ‘but I do have some free time each day. I must say that we miss your sister at the railway station. Mrs Rossiter was such an efficient manageress.’

‘Agnes was efficient at everything she did — unlike me.’

‘It may be that you just feel the need for company.’

‘At the moment, to be honest, I just wish to be alone.’

‘I can understand that. I won’t bother you any longer.’

‘It was so kind of you to call.’

‘I’ll come again when you’ve … settled down.’

‘I suppose they’re all talking about Agnes,’ said Frances, meekly.

‘Mrs Rossiter was in our prayers in church this morning. However,’ said Dorcas, ‘I don’t wish to intrude. I’ve made my offer and I hope that you’ll take advantage of it. I owe a lot to Mrs Rossiter. She taught me everything.’

With a smile of farewell, Dorcas withdrew and walked away. Frances closed the door and went back to the kitchen. She had a friend. She was not quite so isolated, after all. The visit had been brief but it had brought immense reassurance. She was touched by the sincerity of the offer of help. Dorcas Hope would help her through the nightmare that lay ahead. She had someone to whom she could turn. Though it was now stone cold, Frances was at last able to drink her cup of tea.

The wound had needed several stitches and his blood had soaked the sleeves of his shirt and frock coat. The encounter with Browne had also shaken Tallis up. He was sitting in a chair in his room at the tavern. The doctor had just left but Colbeck and Leeming were bending over him in concern. Neither of them had ever believed he would feel so sorry for Tallis. He was pale, drawn and somehow reduced in size. One of his arms was heavily bandaged and supported by a sling. Their sympathy was edged with admiration. It was clear that Tallis had shown great courage in taking on Browne. He was wearing a dressing gown now, but they’d seen the ugly bruises on both arms when he’d been attended by the doctor. Tallis obviously felt embarrassed to be a patient. He shooed them back with a nod of his head.

‘You don’t need to stand over me,’ he said. ‘You’d be more use joining in the search for the villain who did this to me.’

‘Superintendent Steel has already organised a manhunt, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘All off-duty policemen have been recalled to take part in it.’

‘I wish that more of them had been there at the police station.’

‘Browne must have known that numbers would have been depleted.’

‘What news of the duty sergeant?’

‘According to the superintendent, there’s no permanent damage but the man has a bad headache. Browne must have felled him with his walking stick.’

Tallis felt a stab of pain. ‘Don’t mention that stick to me, Inspector.’

‘It was lucky that you happened to be there, sir,’ said Leeming.

‘I don’t feel lucky, I can tell you.’

‘But you were able to delay the escape. That will have helped.’

‘Nevertheless, they managed to get away.’

‘They won’t get far, sir. There must be dozens of witnesses who saw a horse and cart careering through the streets. And where will they hide?’ asked Leeming. ‘They can hardly go back to the woman’s room in Rockfield Place.’

Tallis’s familiar growl resurfaced. ‘Leeming.’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Oblige me by holding that irritating appendage known as your tongue. At a time like this, I don’t need your mindless speculation.’

‘Victor was making a reasonable point, sir,’ said Colbeck in support of his friend, ‘but I can see that you need to be left alone to rest.’

‘I do feel weak,’ admitted the other.

‘Then we’ll disappear. Our rooms are only down the passageway. If you need us this evening, you only have to call.’

‘Thank you, Colbeck,’ said Tallis. ‘All that I need at the moment is peace and quiet. Tomorrow, I’ll be fit enough to take up the reins of this investigation once again. Next time I meet Browne, he won’t get away so easily.’

‘Oh, I don’t think you should tackle him again, sir,’ said Leeming.

‘Your opinion is redundant.’

‘I happen to share it,’ said Colbeck, becoming more assertive. ‘You heard what the doctor advised, sir. He was talking about days of bed rest. I don’t think that’s necessary for someone as resilient as you but it’s clear that you shouldn’t continue to take charge of the case when you must be in constant pain and discomfort.’

‘My arm is on fire,’ conceded Tallis, touching it gingerly with his other hand. ‘It’s almost as if the dagger is still in there.’

‘That settles it. Tomorrow morning, I’ll put you on a train back to London so that you can return home and rest in more comfortable surroundings. Since you won’t be able to carry any luggage,’ said Colbeck with a sly wink at Leeming, ‘the sergeant will accompany you and make sure that you are not jostled in the course of your journey. I daresay that you’d like your own doctor to examine the wound. He’s far and away the best person to give you advice about convalescence.’

‘I’m not an invalid, man. I need no convalescence.’

It was a half-hearted protest. Tallis knew that Colbeck was right and that it would be an effort for him to remain in Exeter. While he hated having to quit the field, he was confident that the Railway Detective would ultimately bring the case to a satisfactory conclusion. For his part, Leeming was delighted that Colbeck had devised a way to get him back to London where — if only for a short time — he could see his family. In a sense, Colbeck had killed two birds with one stone. He was getting rid of Tallis and doing his sergeant a favour at the same time. The inspector would be able to control the investigation more effectively with his superior out of the way and he would soon be rejoined by someone refreshed by a visit to his wife and children.

‘We’ll leave you alone now, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘Thank you,’ said Tallis, wearily.

‘Don’t worry, sir,’ Leeming put in. ‘I’ll get you safely back to London.’

‘Please do so in total silence.’

‘Yes, yes, I’ll be as quiet as the grave.’ He opened the door. ‘Goodbye, sir.’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Tallis, adjusting the sling on his arm. ‘Before you go, could one of you do me a favour?’

‘I’ll be happy to do so,’ offered Colbeck.

‘Then you can light me a cigar.’

The mood had changed in the little house in Camden. Since tea with the two ladies, Caleb Andrews had lost some of the wind from his sails. He was not moping but he was markedly less enthusiastic about his friendship with Binnie Langton. Meeting her sister had suddenly applied a brake to a relationship that he had planned to pursue at speed until now. Ivy Young was a troubling new factor in the equation.

Madeleine found it distracting to have her father sitting in the parlour while she was trying to paint. Instead of his usual jovial patter, all that he was contributing was a vague sense of discontent. He didn’t even feel able to take his daily walk.

‘The weather is brighter today,’ she observed.

‘I hadn’t noticed.’

‘The sun is out. It’s a good time for a stroll.’

‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Maddy?’

‘Frankly, I am,’ she said. ‘Fresh air will do you good. There’s no point in simply brooding in here.’

‘It’s only what you’ve been doing,’ he argued. ‘Ever since he left, you’ve done nothing but think about my future son-in-law.’

‘But they’ve mostly been happy thoughts about the wedding.’

‘Mine were happy thoughts until Mrs Young turned up.’

‘She really upset you, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, Maddy. Everything has been turned upside down.’

‘When are you going to invite Mrs Langton to tea?’

‘I’m having second thoughts about that.’

‘It’s only polite to ask her here,’ said Madeleine. ‘It’s a way of thanking her for her hospitality — and you’ll see her on her own this time.’

Andrews cheered up. ‘That will be good.’

Before he could say why, they were diverted by the sound of a cab rattling down the street and slowing to a halt outside the door. Madeleine moved quickly. In the hope that it might be Colbeck, she put down her brush, wiped her hands on a cloth and scuttled to the door. Flinging it open, she saw Leeming descending from the cab.

‘Oh,’ she said, saddened, ‘it’s you, Sergeant.’

‘I was asked by the inspector to deliver this,’ said Leeming, giving her a letter. ‘It will explain why I’m in such a rush. Superintendent Tallis and I caught the early train from Exeter and I have to return there this afternoon. Before then, I’m keen to snatch a little time with my family.’

‘Then I won’t hold you up. Thank you so much for this,’ she went on, holding up the letter. ‘Please give Robert my love.’

‘I will,’ said Leeming as he climbed back into the cab. ‘He’ll be very glad to receive it because it won’t have been a pleasant day for him.’

‘Oh — why is that?’

‘At this very moment, Inspector Colbeck is attending a funeral.’

He signalled to the driver and the cab drew away from the kerb.

The funeral of Joel Heygate was a sombre affair. While he had few close relatives, he’d acquired a wide extended family of friends. Those who were able to get off work had joined the throng at St Olave’s Church in Fore Street. It was the place where Heygate had been christened, then married, so his life had come full circle. The little Saxon church was really no more than a chapel, so many of those there would be unable to get inside for the funeral service itself. They would have to wait until the proceedings came out into the churchyard. Having arrived early, Colbeck was able to have a chat with Steel, who had shed his uniform for once and was wearing apparel more suited to the occasion. They watched black-clad mourners filing into the church.

‘I suppose that St Olave’s is an appropriate place for Heygate to end up,’ said Steel. ‘It’s named after St Olaf, an eleventh-century king of Norway who was martyred in battle. There are those who’d call the stationmaster something of a martyr.’

‘It’s a very pretty piece of architecture.’

‘You wouldn’t have been able to say that twenty odd years ago, Inspector. St Olave’s was almost derelict then. So were a number of other churches. Thanks to the initiative of the then recently appointed Bishop Phillpotts, some twelve of them were repaired and restored.’

‘That’s another good thing in his favour, then.’

‘He later formed a diocesan society to promote the further building and enlargement of churches. Oh, yes,’ said Steel, ‘he was full of energy in those days. Unfortunately, he still is.’

‘Some of his energy is misdirected, that’s all,’ said Colbeck, tolerantly. He looked around. ‘Do you expect Browne to put in an appearance?’

‘He wouldn’t dare turn up.’

‘Don’t you believe in the compulsion to return to the scene of the crime?’

‘Bagsy will be miles away by now. In his shoes, I know that I would be.’

‘He’s clearly a remarkable man who doesn’t think like you and me. Which of us would have had the gall and the bravado to rescue a prisoner from custody?’

‘Neither of us, Inspector — we’ve got too much sense.’

‘It’s the reason that we wouldn’t even conceive of the idea of attending the funeral of a man we’d killed. Mr Browne may find the temptation irresistible.’

‘If he does, my men will be on the lookout for him.’

‘I hope you’ve warned them how dangerous he can be.’

‘They heard what happened to the duty sergeant yesterday. While we’re on the subject,’ Steel went on, ‘how is Superintendent Tallis?’

‘He’s probably safely back in London by now.’

Colbeck told him how he’d persuaded Tallis to leave the city in the company of Victor Leeming. While he’d been struck by the superintendent’s bravery in confronting Browne, Steel was glad that he was no longer there to hinder the inquiry. Colbeck would have a free hand and that was a positive improvement. Tallis was at his best behind a desk, delegating work to others and demanding quick results. He was too slow and lumbering to work on location as a detective.

‘Mr Woodford has remained on duty at the station,’ said Steel, ‘but he’s kindly released some of his staff to come here. I’m not quite sure what that tells us about him.’

‘He’s the stationmaster now and he wants everyone to know it. If he was involved in the murder,’ said Colbeck, ‘he might have been lured here if only for the perverse pleasure of seeing his old enemy laid to rest. But I suspect that he’d see the wisdom of staying away. He’s a shrewd and cunning man.’

‘Will he be installed as Heygate’s successor, do you think?’

‘He seems to have appointed himself already.’

‘The post will be advertised. The final decision will lie with Mr Quinnell.’

‘We’ll have to wait until the service is over before we can speak to him. Mr Quinnell was among the first to arrive because he’s in charge of the arrangements.’

‘Only a man of his influence could have got the funeral arranged in such a short time,’ said Steel. ‘I’m told that another one had to be postponed to make way for Heygate. Think of the upset that must have caused another grieving family. Let’s go on in while we can,’ he added, leading the way. ‘I asked them to reserve seats for us near the back.’

‘Thank you,’ said Colbeck. ‘That showed foresight.’

‘I want to see every moment of the ceremony, Inspector — just in case Bagsy Browne does sneak in at some point.’

‘Thanks to Mr Tallis, we have a very good description of the man.’

‘Yet his disguise fooled the duty sergeant. That’s worrying.’

‘Would you like to place a small wager?’

‘As long as it really is small,’ said Steel. ‘I’m certain that Bagsy won’t show his ugly face at the funeral. You think otherwise, I believe.’

‘It’s a feeling I have,’ said Colbeck, ‘and I’ll back it with money.’

‘Then I’ll wager a sovereign that I’m right.’

‘I accept the bet.’

‘You’re very prodigal with your money, Inspector.’

‘Not at all,’ said Colbeck with a confident grin. ‘To save time, you might as well hand over the sovereign now. Browne will be here. He has to be.’

Adeline Goss had been thrilled at the risk that Browne had taken on her behalf. The escape had been exciting and wholly successful. After reaching the suburbs, they’d abandoned the horse and cart and made their way in the gathering gloom to the boat. Early next morning, they’d been bold enough to slip back into the city. They collected everything of value from Adeline’s room before most people had even woken up. Her things had been temporarily stowed away in the boat. By afternoon they were back in Exeter. She was disguised as a washerwoman with a basket of laundry over her arm and a floppy hat covering most of her face.

‘Don’t do it, Bagsy!’ she pleaded. ‘There’s no need.’

‘There’s every need, Ad. I want to spit on his coffin.’

‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘Heygate was my enemy. I’m entitled to my moment of triumph.’

‘What if you’re caught?’

Browne sniggered. ‘They had their chance to catch me yesterday,’ he boasted, ‘and they failed. I’m like a cat, Ad. I’ve got nine lives.’

‘You used one of them up yesterday.’

‘Is that a complaint?’ he asked, slipping an arm around her waist.

‘No,’ she replied with a laugh. ‘I loved every second of it.’

‘I always pay my dues, whether it’s to a friend or an enemy. It’s my code.’

‘You could be putting a noose around your neck, Bagsy.’

‘There’s no chance of that,’ he scoffed. ‘Those Scotland Yard detectives will think I took to my heels and ran away. They’d never expect me to stay in Exeter and neither would Superintendent Steel.’ He cackled. ‘I’d love to have seen his face when he saw that your cell was empty.’

‘Thank God you came for me — the food in there was like horse shit.’

‘We’ll have a proper meal this evening, a sort of celebration.’

‘What are we celebrating?’

‘I’ll tell you later,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to be late for the funeral. Heygate will be wishing he’d never upset me now — what’s left of him, anyway.’

He marched off, singing happily to himself.

In one respect, Joel Heygate was fortunate. The South Devon Railway gave him the sort of funeral that he could never have afforded and which was hopelessly beyond the means of his brother. No expense had been spared. Preceded by a mute, the coffin arrived in a glass-sided hearse drawn by black horses with black plumes. It was carried with great solemnity into the church by six men in mourning garb. The crowd assembled outside watched it all with hearts weighed down with fond memories of a man they’d never see again. The manner of his death gave the whole event an added poignancy.

Colbeck was grateful for the way that the railway company had honoured its former stationmaster. Quinnell was only one of a number of its directors there. The inspector had seen far too many paupers’ funerals where the deceased was treated with little more respect than an animal carcass and where the proceedings were almost indecently perfunctory. Heygate had taken care to avoid such a fate. When they’d searched his house, they found a record of the instalments he’d paid over the years into a funeral club, ensuring that he would be buried in a proper Christian manner. In the event, his foresight had been unnecessary. His employers had taken charge.

There were no women inside the church, though some had gathered outside. Colbeck wondered what sort of a scene Agnes Rossiter might have created if she’d stormed in during the service. Thankfully, she was miles away and probably unaware of what was going on at St Olave’s. Seated near the back, Colbeck was able to keep an eye on Michael Heygate, the chief mourner and — though he didn’t realise it — a suspect in the investigation. To his credit, he seemed genuinely moved when the coffin was carried in and produced a black-edged handkerchief. Colbeck could not decide if he was seeing the natural bereavement of a brother or the delayed remorse of a killer. Lavinia Heygate was elsewhere. Colbeck suspected that she was more likely to be anticipating a much-needed inheritance than weeping for a dead brother-in-law.

The funeral oration was appropriately comforting and filled with praise for the deceased. It was given by a vicar who’d known and liked Heygate for many years and who was able to call on his memories of the stationmaster. He even found a moment to mention the canary. When the service was over, they moved out into the small churchyard for the interment, joined by those who’d been unable to get inside the building. Colbeck lingered on the fringes this time, anxious to have freedom of movement so that he could study the faces of those present. Most were bent in respect, eyes down and mouths tight-lipped. The majority of people wore funeral attire but there were a number of bystanders who’d simply come in their normal apparel. One of them was a chunky man in the simple garb of a gravedigger, his cheeks darkened by smudges of dirt and his hands filthy. He was holding his cap and kept his chin on his chest. What made Colbeck notice him was that he inched himself nearer and nearer to the grave, slowly burrowing his way through the mass of bodies.

When the burial was at last over, people began to disperse in small groups. Colbeck waited to take a closer look at the man who’d interested him. Before he could do so, however, he was spotted by Gervase Quinnell.

‘Good afternoon, Inspector,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry we meet on such a sad day.’

‘I must congratulate you on the arrangements for the funeral. They’ve done something to alleviate the general sadness.’

‘I wanted everyone to know that we prized his years of service.’

‘Nobody was left in any doubt about that.’

Taking him by the arm, Quinnell moved him aside. ‘Is it true what I hear about Superintendent Tallis?’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘he’s returned to London to nurse his wound.’

‘Browne’s effrontery knows no bounds.’

‘Some would account it daring rather than effrontery, Mr Quinnell. I’m sure that Browne himself would. Nothing seems to daunt him.’

‘I think we should increase the amount of the reward again.’

‘That’s not the answer, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘If anyone had the information we need, they’d have come forward by now. As it is, the one person who did tell us something of use has drowned himself by accident. He fell into the canal in a stupor. Superintendent Steel had a report from one of the more disreputable pubs that Finbar Mulleady spent the whole evening pouring beer down his throat and boasting that he was about to come into a very large amount of money. In other words,’ he concluded, ‘he’d have claimed your reward.’

‘If Browne had been caught, this man would have deserved it.’

‘But he hasn’t been caught as yet.’

‘He can’t elude you indefinitely, Inspector Colbeck.’

‘No, he can’t, and his time at liberty is fast running out.’

While talking to Quinnell, he’d been keeping one eye on the individual who looked like a gravedigger. He was talking to the two men who were leaning on their spades as they waited to fill in the grave. Colbeck saw them him pick up a handful of earth and toss it on to the coffin then spit after it.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said to Quinnell.

‘But I have several things to ask you, Inspector.’

‘They’ll have to wait.’

‘You can’t just dash off. It’s most unseemly.’

‘I think I’ve just seen Bagsy Browne, sir.’

Quinnell gaped in disbelief. ‘You’ve seen that villain here?’

‘I believe so.’

Colbeck turned back to the grave but the man had now vanished. Pushing his way through the last of those still in the churchyard, he hurried across to the two gravediggers who were now shovelling more earth on to the coffin.

‘What happened to the man who was talking to you just now?’

One of them shrugged. ‘He just left, sir.’

‘Where did he go?’

‘Don’t ask us. We’ve never seen him before.’

Colbeck scoured the churchyard but the man seemed to have disappeared. He chided himself for not cornering him earlier when the crowd would have prevented his escape. All that he was left with was the nagging suspicion that he’d just let Bagsy Browne get away right under his nose. Colbeck was still searching when Steel joined him among the headstones.

‘Far be it from me to sound mercenary, Inspector,’ he said, ‘but I have to remind you of a small wager that we made.’

‘I remember it well — you owe me a sovereign.’

‘Bagsy Browne never came anywhere near the funeral.’

‘Oh yes he did,’ said Colbeck, ruefully. ‘And he got away before I could arrest him. On second thoughts,’ he went on, ‘it would be unfair to take any money from you. I won the bet but lost the putative killer. That being so, I’d like you to accept this by way of apology.’ Taking a sovereign from his waistcoat pocket, he gave it to Steel. ‘Be warned, Superintendent. I shall win it back before too long.’

It was evening before Michael Heygate was able to escape from the dozens of people who wanted to offer their condolences and tell him anecdotes about his brother. He repaired to a room at the Crown Inn where his wife was awaiting him. Lavinia had stayed away from the funeral in its entirety, pleading unbearable grief over the loss of a much-loved brother-in-law. Since most people didn’t know her, they accepted the excuse and offered their sympathy by way of her husband. When she let him into the room, there was little indication of sorrow on her part. Seizing her husband’s hands, she gave him a welcoming kiss on the cheek.

‘Well?’ she asked.

‘It’s over.’

‘You look exhausted.’

‘It was harrowing,’ he confessed. ‘In spite of all the bad things that happened between us, Joel was my only sibling. We grew up together as boys and liked each other in those days. It was only later that we drifted apart.’

‘Were there many people there?’

‘Half the city seemed to have turned out. There’ll be even more if we hold a memorial service.’ He put his top hat aside. ‘I can’t say that I’m looking forward to that. I’m going to have to wear a sad face again.’

She helped him off with his frock coat. ‘You need a rest, Michael.’

‘Thank heaven we didn’t have to pay for the funeral!’ he said. ‘It must have cost a fortune. The railway company did him proud.’

‘Forget your brother,’ she said. ‘It’s time to think about us.’

He lowered himself on to a chair. ‘I know, Lavinia.’

‘Was Joel’s solicitor there?’

‘Yes, he was.’

‘Did you manage to speak to him?’

‘I made a point of doing so.’

‘And?’ she pressed. ‘What did he say?’

‘Mr Lyman mumbled something about the law of probate and said that he’d be in touch with us in the fullness of time.’

Lavinia was annoyed. ‘Didn’t he tell you anything?’

‘It wasn’t the time and the place.’

‘I thought you’d at least get some sort of hint out of him,’ she said. ‘We need to know about the bequest, Michael. Your brother was comfortably off. When he sold his house, he made a pretty penny and, when he lost his wife and child, the railway company set up a fund for him. Because everyone was shocked by the tragedy, money poured in from everywhere.’

‘Five pounds of it was ours,’ he said ruefully. ‘We had to contribute.’

‘Joel was always so careful with money.’

‘He had nothing to spend it on, Lavinia.’

‘Then why didn’t he give some of it to us?’ she said, waspishly. ‘I think that you should tackle his solicitor again tomorrow.’

‘We don’t want to appear too money-grubbing.’

‘You’re his brother, Michael. You’re entitled to it.’

‘Yes, I am,’ he said, relishing the thought. ‘I did my duty at the funeral and I’m ready to reap the reward. Now that it’s over, I don’t feel any regret and even less guilt. Joel got what he deserved. When I go to that memorial service, the expression on my face will be grim but I’ll be laughing triumphantly inside.’

It had been a gruelling day for Dorcas Hope. Though she’d tried to concentrate on her work, her mind was at the funeral. She’d seen passengers arrive in mourning wear to attend the event, then watched some of them leave late in the afternoon. Dorcas was slow, distracted and clumsy. At one point, she even broke a cup. Timothy Vesey, the new manager, made allowances for her but Woodford was less understanding. He’d been jumpy all day and Dorcas had put it down to his own sense of bereavement. It had not affected the sharpness of his tongue. When he saw Dorcas making mistakes in the refreshment room, he was as critical as Mrs Rossiter.

‘Be more careful, girl,’ he snapped as she dropped a tray.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Woodford.’

‘Pick it up again.’

‘Yes, yes, I will.’

‘And try to keep your mind on what you’re doing. That’s why we pay you.’

She retrieved the tray and took it apologetically to the counter. Woodford had made frequent visits to them throughout the day and found a reason to castigate her each time. His final comment was the most hurtful.

‘You’re in a world of your own,’ he said with asperity. ‘At this rate, you’ll end up in the County Asylum with Mrs Rossiter.’

The wounding remark had brought tears to her eyes but she’d soldiered on. At the end of the working day, Dorcas more or less ran home, anxious to get away from the station and its association with a man she’d loved. Where his successor was sarcastic, he’d been more forgiving. Where Woodford used his authority like a stick with which to beat people, the old stationmaster had simply led by example. Dark days lay ahead for Dorcas. She’d lost the two colleagues who’d been fixtures in her life — Agnes Rossiter and Joel Heygate. Eager to get to work when she was under their aegis, she now went with great reluctance.

Arriving home, she was surprised that there was no chirpy greeting from Peter. The canary welcomed everyone to the house, yet it was eerily silent now. Dorcas went into the parlour where her mother was in her accustomed place beside the cage. She saw why there’d been no greeting from the canary. Peter’s cage was covered in a black cloth. Maud Hope was subdued.

‘He’s been quiet all day,’ she explained. ‘He knows about the funeral.’