Vanishing Point

CHAPTER 14

Miss Holiday had no relations-at least there were none that anyone had ever heard of. She had been personal maid to old Lady Rowena Thorne, who had allowed her, so everyone declared, to get into dreadfully muddly ways. But then Lady Rowena was a dreadfully muddly old thing who looked like a ragbag and lived in a cottage full of clutter and cats. There was very little money, and out of what there was she left Miss Holiday an annuity of fifty pounds a year, since when she had lodged with Mrs. Maple and gone out to work by the day but never staying anywhere for long. She was, in fact, too incompetent to be tolerated except in a case where there was no one else to be had. All this, which was common knowledge, Mrs. Merridew imparted to her guest.

Having become aware of Miss Silver’s professional activities through the mutual friend in whose house they had met after so many years, she readily acceded to a request that she should not speak of them. Since she had from the time of her marriage been a person of some consequence in the county, she was in fact rather more than willing to give the desired pledge. Detection did not appear to her to be at all a suitable career for a gentlewoman, and she had no wish that it should be obtruded. At the same time, with poor Miss Holiday disappearing like this, she found herself discussing the affair in a very interested manner, deferring to Miss Silver’s opinion as to an expert, and very ready to communicate any particulars which might prove helpful.

Florrie went grimly about her work and contributed nothing more, except to remark in tones of gloom that those that hadn’t turned up by now wasn’t going to, and no use saying any different. Mrs. Maple was understood to be of the same opinion, and was already beginning to turn over in her mind the rival merits of two prospective lodgers.

The Melbury police, to whom the disappearance had been reported, had sent over a constable to make enquiries, but rumour had it that he had found it quite impossible to induce Mrs. Maple to hear his questions. It being well known in the village that she didn’t hold with the police and could at any time be as deaf as she chose, nobody was surprised. It was, in fact, considered that Constable Denning had taken an unfair advantage by submitting a set of questions in writing, and Mrs. Maple’s defensive action in mislaying her glasses and declaring that she couldn’t read a word without them was warmly approved.

Meanwhile there was quite a lot going on behind the scenes. There were consultations on a gradually ascending scale, arriving ultimately at what are termed higher levels. Never could Miss Holiday have supposed that she would be the subject of so much speculation and interest. Hazel Green communicated with Melbury, and Melbury with the Chief Constable of Melshire, who got busy with Scotland Yard and with the Security people. The affair might be negligible or it might not-it might be of the utmost importance. But there must be no publicity, no headlines in the press. The greatest discretion must be observed. Hazel Green might buzz with gossip and come to its own gloomy conclusions, but, at any rate for the present, the official attitude must be that it was a purely local matter, and that Miss Holiday had probably taken it into her head to go off and visit a friend.

The village did not take kindly to this theory. Mrs. Stubbs spoke for everyone when she enquired with a toss of the head,

“And what friends has she got, poor thing? None that ever I heard tell about, nor anyone else either! In to Melbury for the pictures and back again, that’s all the outings she ever had- and she wouldn’t go there of a Sunday. And if she went anywhere by bus, someone would have seen her, wouldn’t they? As to getting a lift in a car, well, anyone that knew her wouldn’t talk so silly-she’d have been frightened to death!”

Craig Lester had got a little tired of the subject by the time he set out for Crewe House. With the church clock striking four as he went up the road, he could make sure of being on hand to walk back again with Rosamond, who like himself had been bidden to tea at the White Cottage.

Since none of the windows commanded the drive, which, to tell the truth, was a good deal overgrown, it was his intention to remain in its shelter until Rosamond appeared. As he waited he thought how badly the whole place needed attention. Trees and shrubs crowded one another in a struggle for light and air. The undergrowth was a mere tangle. The leaves of many seasons lay rotting where they had fallen. Moisture dripped upon them from above, though there had been no rain since lunch. A grey sky and more rain to come. Damp air moving overhead.

Rosamond came into view, hurrying a little because Lydia Crewe had rung her bell just as she was starting. She wore an old tweed coat and a blue scarf over the dark clusters of her hair. It brought up the blue in her eyes. She was almost running, but when she saw him she slowed to a walk.

“Oh-I’m going out!”

“To tea with Mrs. Merridew? So am I. I thought I would walk down with you. If you hadn’t any real objection.”

She gave him a wide friendly smile.

“How nice of you. But we ought to hurry, because I think I’m late. Aunt Lydia wanted me.”

“What for?”

“Oh, just-something she wanted. It didn’t take long, but I had run it rather fine talking to Jenny.”

He said deliberately,

“They are both quite good at seeing you don’t get too much time off, aren’t they? If one of them isn’t holding on to you, the other is. You know, you’re going to make Jenny just as selfish and exigeant as Miss Crewe if you’re not careful.”

“Craig!”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

She said in a protesting voice,

“She has been so ill. They thought she was going to die.”

“Well, they don’t think so any longer. Wake up, Rosamond and use your common sense! You know as well as I do that Jenny isn’t leading a normal life, and she could-” He paused and added, “now.”

He saw the startled colour rise as she turned towards him.

“What do you mean?”

“You know very well. She is too much with grown-ups and with books. She ought to be learning and playing with children of her own age.”

She opened her lips to speak, but the words didn’t come. He slipped a hand inside her arm.

“All right-go on and say it. It’s not so easy to think of Jenny as a child-that’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? And you stopped yourself because it gave your case away. As a matter of fact, my sweet, you haven’t got a case, and it’s no use your trying to cook one up. Neither you nor Jenny has any business to be at Crewe House, and you know it.”

She still had that startled look, but there was anger as well.

“You want to send Jenny to school, and you want to get me away from here!”

“I certainly do. And I certainly think that Jenny would be better at school.”

“She isn’t nearly strong enough.”

Another turn of the drive and they would be within sight of the road. Instinctively she stopped.

“Craig, you mustn’t-you mustn’t really! Don’t you know it’s what Aunt Lydia wants-to get rid of Jenny, so that I can do more, and more, and more for her and for the house?”

He said coolly,

“It may be what she means, but it isn’t what is going to happen. You give her a month to find someone else, and then you marry me, and you take Jenny away. After which we decide what is the best kind of school for her.”

“She isn’t fit for it.”

At least she hadn’t said that she would not marry him. Perhaps she had merely overlooked his assumption that she would. He left the point to be settled later.

He said, “Has it occurred to you that Jenny can walk a great deal better than she makes out?”

She pulled away from him.

“No, of course it hasn’t!”

“Well, it has to me. As a plain matter of fact she limps when you are there, and she doesn’t when you are out of the room.”

Her eyes were bright and angry.

“She is proud and sensitive. She doesn’t like to let a stranger see her limp.”

“Rubbish! She puts on an act for you, and she doesn’t bother about it for me.”

“Why should she?”

“Oh, she has to outbid Aunt Lydia.”

“Craig!”

“When did the specialist see her last?”

“Two months ago.”

“Did he say she could walk?”

“Well-”

“I see-he did. Did he want to see her again?”

“He said-” The words broke off.

“He didn’t!”

She took a step away from him.

“It isn’t only the limp. If she does too much-it hurts.”

“Not very seriously, I think.”

All her colour was gone. She said in a stranger’s voice,

“I think we had better stop talking about it. Mrs. Merridew won’t like it if we’re late.”

“I suppose not. Why don’t you ask me why I’ve been saying all this?”

Something in his tone arrested her. The startled look returned. She said in a voice like an echo,

“Why-”

Craig Lester said,

“I think we must keep Mrs. Merridew waiting whilst I tell you. I couldn’t sleep last night-it’s always fatal to start thinking after midnight. In the end I dressed, got out of one of the back windows, and went for a stroll. It was about a quarter past one. I walked up in this direction, and someone was getting over the stile just across the road from where the drive comes out. There was a car coming, and whoever it was stood still and waited for it to pass. As it came round that little bit of a bend, the lights picked up the hedge and the person standing there. Well, it was Jenny.”

“Jenny? Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes, it was Jenny all right. There’s no mistaking that hair. Besides I saw her face.”

They both had the same picture-Jenny in the beam of the headlights, her bright hair glowing. Rosamond said on a gasp,

“Craig, she looked-there was something different about her this morning. I couldn’t think what it was-as if-as if-oh, I don’t know. She must have been walking in her sleep.”

He shook his head.

“Oh, no, she wasn’t! Anything but! As soon as the car had gone by she laughed and came skipping across the road. Then she ran off up the drive. I followed at a discreet distance and saw her go in at the side door. When I had heard her lock it I went back to the Holly Tree. But I thought you had better know.”

“But why-why?”

“I imagine she slips out because she wants to walk and skip, and she doesn’t want anyone to see her because she doesn’t want to be packed off to school. I think it’s quite simple. And there’s no need for you to look as if the roof had just fallen in. It can be dealt with all right. And now perhaps we had better put our best foot forward and save our faces with Mrs. Merridew.”