Read sample A Justified Death

One

There is never anything good about fog.

In the middle of her party, Margaret stepped into the hall to cool down after a lively if restricted polka and felt her happy mood fade as she spotted opaque yellow-grey fingers slithering under the front door and across the tiles.

The cheerful chatter of friends and happy squeals of children filtered through the sitting-room door behind her, and for a few moments, Margaret imagined herself as a gatekeeper – the only thing between their cocooned safety and an outside world where streetlights had been smothered, sound was distorted and evil might be lurking.

‘A cup of tea for your thoughts,’ said Dr Gil Trewellan, walking up bearing a tray.

‘I’m resisting an urge to kill the fog by stamping on it.’

‘That’s not very scientific.’

‘It always seems alive and malicious,’ said Margaret. ‘I want to know who it’s misdirecting and what it’s hiding.’

‘No one and nothing, I’m sure,’ said Gil. ‘And it’s not as if you haven’t grown up with London fogs. This isn’t even a pea-souper. It’ll be gone by morning.’

‘I know. Sorry. It was just a feeling.’

‘Well, don’t let it spoil your lovely party. I’m so glad I could come.’

Margaret pulled herself together. ‘So am I. And I know our house isn’t really big enough for all these people, but it’s lovely to have it so full and noisy. It’s usually so boringly quiet.’

‘A party’s all the better when it’s a bit squashed and informal.’

Margaret properly registered the tray in his hands. ‘Why are you carrying that? Dinah’s supposed to be serving the tea.’

‘Really? Dinah was preparing it when I went to the kitchen for some water. She seemed concerned that your friends would clodhopper on her bunions when she brought the tea in. What could I do but offer to help?’

‘Hmm. Clever Dinah.’

Gil chuckled. ‘I always liked her when she charred at your flat, even if she told me off for being untidy.’ He straightened his tie, making it more lopsided. ‘But given how important Fox is, I thought you’d have someone more refined as a housemaid.’

‘I do,’ said Margaret. ‘Dinah only comes when I need extra help. She was delighted that she’d see you again. I think she was secretly a little disappointed when you went to Switzerland and I married Fox.’

‘I love you very much, but if I’d ever proposed it would have been for the sake of appearances on my part, and I wouldn’t be cruel enough to ask. You need a proper husband like Fox, even if he’s bad at protecting you.’ Gil put his head on one side. ‘Maude says you were injured a few months ago.’

‘It wasn’t Fox’s fault and I’m fine.’ Margaret touched the neckline of her dress to check it hid the scar on her shoulder.

‘You need a nice quiet life.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes. But for now, where’s the music? You owe me a dance.’

The sitting room door opened before Margaret could touch the handle, noisy chatter blasting out along with Maude’s sons and Alec, who collided with Nellie as she walked up from the kitchen.

Gil ushered Margaret into the sitting room, put the tray on a low table, ruffled his dishevelled curls into more chaos, then turned his attention to the room.

In an armchair nearest the fire, Margaret’s father was reading a picture book to Edie. She sat on his lap, leaning against him, thumb in mouth. With her other hand, she held his silk cravat against her cheek. She was still a little pale from a recent cold, and her eyelids were drooping. Margaret sighed.

‘What is it?’ said Gil, squeezing her hand, ‘Is something other than the fog bothering you?’

‘Yes. Dr Naylor wants me to work more days in the hospital. But when Edie became so ill…’ Margaret took a breath and steadied her voice. ‘It’s been an awful few weeks. I dread to think how inattentive I’ve been at Dorcas Free. But Dr Gesner was kind and Dr Naylor eased the pressure, so I must have got away with it. I thought she might stop me going to Weymouth next weekend.’

Gil smiled. ‘Weymouth will do Edie the world of good, even for a few days. She’s very much on the mend, and well enough for her second birthday party.’

‘It’s not precisely a birthday party,’ said Margaret. ‘The twins were so fragile when they were born that every year they survive feels like something to celebrate. I suppose the party is really for me and Fox.’

‘Ah,’ said Gil. ‘Then I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

‘Ungill! Ungill!’ Alec squeezed through the guests and pulled at Gil’s hand. ‘Play trains on stairs with SamajohnnyaNellie!’

Suddenly fully awake, Edie scrambled off her grandfather’s lap and hurried over to pull on Gil’s other arm.

 ‘Come on then, young people, show me what to do.’ He winked at Margaret as he left the room. ‘Fragile? They’re nearly pulling my arms out.’

Fox put another record onto the gramophone, side-stepped Katherine, who’d been trying to teach him new dance steps all afternoon, and joined Margaret. He nodded towards her father. ‘Your sister thinks it’s too noisy for him, but he seems happy enough.’

Margaret’s father had neatened his cravat and was casting around for someone he could continue reading to. His gaze settled hopefully on Maude’s twelve-year-old daughter Becca, who stood near the window with Margaret’s cousin Lucy and nephew Ed. It seemed unlikely Becca would admit to being interested in any children’s story. She was currently attempting to look grown up by standing in the fashionable sloping-shouldered way of mannequins and moving-picture stars, periodically pulling on her skirt as if that would help it appear longer.

‘If Becca gets any more languid she’ll fall over,’ said Fox.

‘The papers call it the slinker slouch,’ whispered Margaret. ‘Maude despises it. She keeps asking me to explain to Becca how it’ll ruin her digestion.’

‘Will you?’

‘Why waste breath? What girl of that age really believes an adult unless it’s a very young one like Lucy? Ah, now she’s copying Lucy’s pose instead. That’s better.’

‘Becca’s much shorter. She won’t be able to hear if she doesn’t stand up straight.’

Lucy, pretty in a blue velvet dress, was smiling. She gave the younger girl as much attention as she would someone of her own age. On the other hand, Ed looked sulky. Having come directly from an army event, he was still in uniform. But if he’d hoped to make an impression, he’d only managed to make a brief one on Maude’s oldest son.

‘I think Ed’s hoping that Becca will go up in smoke if he glares at her enough,’ said Margaret. ‘He really has it bad. I’ve never been sure whether Lucy’s noticed, though. She’s just generally nice to everyone.’

‘Ed and Lucy are cousins,’ said Fox. ‘I was never attracted to mine. Were you attracted to any of the million you have?’

Margaret lowered her voice. ‘Goodness, no. As for Lucy and Ed… They’re not really cousins. Aunt Alice and Uncle Donald adopted Lucy as a tiny orphan. Didn’t I ever tell you?’

‘You didn’t.’

‘I suppose I never think about it.’ Margaret frowned. From the moment Aunt Alice had clasped the feeble baby in her arms, Lucy had been part of the family. Now the sickly infant was a healthy young woman surrounded by love, with a bright future ahead of her.

‘Do Lucy and Ed know about the adoption?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

Fox put his arm round her waist. ‘Incidentally, Katherine says James will drive your father home shortly if you don’t mind their leaving early. She thinks he’s getting tired.’

‘James?’

‘Ha ha. Your father. James has an early start tomorrow and he has things to prepare before he goes. Maude or Phoebe can take Katherine and Ed home.’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Margaret. ‘I need to learn to be confident of driving in fog.’

‘I’m not sure whether to be more worried about you or the car,’ said Fox. ‘Come and dance, in case it’s the last chance we have.’

By six, the party was over and all the guests bar Katherine and Ed had gone. Margaret let Fox start the car and light the lamps while she and her passengers settled inside.

The thickening fog made the air feel greasy and cloying. The pavement and road were slick with a combination of coal-oil and moisture.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?’ said Fox.

‘Stay behind with the children: I can manage perfectly well,’ said Margaret, then wished she hadn’t. The lamps didn’t seem equal to the gloom and she didn’t feel equal to the drive, even if it was less than four miles there and back.

‘Perhaps we should walk,’ said Katherine.

‘You’ll be sodden and filthy if you do,’ said Margaret. ‘I’ll drive at walking pace. Anyone behind us can lump it.’

She steered the car into a road that might as well have been a tunnel for all she could see. Katherine and Ed huddled under a blanket. Margaret frowned as they crept forward, aware the wheels weren’t gripping the road as they should.

‘Lucy’s starting a job,’ said Ed gloomily.

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ said Katherine. ‘She can’t start her nursing training till next summer. She may as well do something now. First-aid classes, isn’t it?’

‘More than that. She’ll be teaching the three R’s to a bunch of rough, uneducated women in some dreadful class in Archbold Street.’

‘We didn’t bring you up to be a snob,’ snapped Katherine.

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Ed’s voice was sulky. ‘I just meant what the papers keep saying about white slavery and girls getting snatched. Lucy’s so innocent: she thinks everyone’s as nice as she is. I’m not happy about her going into nursing, either. She should do something more refined. Or better still, wait to get married.’

‘Honestly, Ed,’ said Katherine, ‘I despair. What has happened to you? It’s up to Lucy what she does. And if, God forbid, you ever have to fight for your country, you’ll be fighting for everyone, not just the refined and genteel.’

‘Can I just get out and walk from here? It’ll probably be quicker.’

‘No,’ said Katherine.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. A few other cars appeared out of the gloom, crawled past, then disappeared.

Now and again, the headlights picked out barely visible wraiths slinking along the pavement or crossing the road. How stupid of people to wear black in the winter.

Margaret attempted to change the subject. ‘Where’s James going so early tomorrow?’

‘Wales,’ said Katherine. ‘He’ll report on the mine disaster at Senghenydd. Perhaps Ed doesn’t think he should bother. Why do rough men and uneducated women matter?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ said Ed, his voice low. ‘And I don’t think it. I didn’t know Dad was going there. It’ll be —’

‘Awful,’ snapped Katherine. ‘Two weeks, hundreds still missing and no hope of any of them being alive. I imagine the ones who survived are glad of the nurses who are treating them. Especially the nice ones.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Mother. I’m just worried about Lucy.’

‘If it helps,’ said Margaret, sighing inwardly, ‘I’ll offer to give a talk at one of her classes. Then I can reassure you about her pupils and confirm that she’s being treated with respect.’

‘Thanks, Aunt Maggot.’

‘Hmm.’

Another silence as a wraith drifted across the road. Margaret slowed, unsure if it was a person or a strand of fog. It looked too portly to be the latter and reminded her of her father, ambling about lost in his imagination.

‘Father hasn’t taken to wandering since he moved in with you, Kitty?’ she said. ‘You know, getting confused and trying to go back to Fulham.’

‘He’s not a cat, Meg,’ said Katherine. ‘I needn’t butter his paws.’ From her voice, she was still irritated. ‘And no, he hasn’t.’

‘‘I hope — I wish… I’m sorry.’ Margaret grimaced. ‘I don’t know what I can do to help, apart from have him stay now and again.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Katherine, more gently. ‘You have small children and work fixed hours. Ed’s away most of the time, and while my job is quite unpredictable, it allows me some freedom. I can keep Father company if necessary, but he’s making a new group of friends in Marylebone to replace the ones he left in Fulham. Besides, you’ve invited him for lunch tomorrow, even though you have Gil coming too. You’ve nothing to apologise for.’

They were nearing Marylebone Road. Margaret slowed before she crossed it. The streetlights, struggling to penetrate the fog, turned it into a squirming, dirty-yellow monster, swallowing and vomiting whatever passed through.

Something with headlights was coming down the road, faster than seemed wise. Margaret decided to wait till it passed. In the corner of her eye, she saw another wraith and turned towards it. This time it was definitely a person, dashing into the road. The other motor car swerved, but the fog had made the road slick and greasy. The car slid sideways, spun, then crashed into the figure. Even the fog couldn’t deaden a thump and a scream.

Two

Margaret unfroze, steered her car to the pavement, then got out with Katherine and Ed and joined a small group of people who had emerged from the fog to see what had happened.

The light of a lantern blinded Margaret. Then the person holding it lowered their arm to reveal a man in a driving coat, crouched beside a young girl huddled by the nearside front wheel of a motorcar. For a dreadful moment, as she knelt, Margaret thought it was Becca, then saw light hair instead of dark and a gauntness in the cheeks that Becca didn’t possess.

The girl was still, her eyes closed.

‘I didn’t see her in time,’ said the motorist. ‘It’s not my fault. It all happened so fast. The car just slid. Is she dead?’

‘No,’ said Margaret. ‘Merely knocked out, and she’s coming round. Hopefully you didn’t hit her hard enough to do much damage, but we’ll see.’

‘Are you a nurse?’

‘I’m a doctor.’

‘Dorcas Free’s just there,’ said Ed. ‘What do you need? I can move fast.’

‘A stretcher at least,’ said Margaret. ‘Thank you.’ She watched Ed disappear, then peered up at the shadowed faces around her. ‘I need something to put under her head. Sir, please hold that lantern so I can see.’

‘Less mere align,’ slurred the girl. Her eyes opened and she stared about her. ‘Let me alone! Let me alone!’ She started to move, then cried out.

‘Where does it hurt?’ asked Margaret.

‘Arm. Ribs. Ankle. Head.’ She frowned at Margaret. ‘Are we by St J’s?’

‘St Julia’s is some distance away. We’re near Dorcas Free. We’ll get you there as soon as possible.’

‘Isn’t that… Am I still…? I gotta go.’ She lifted her head a little and her eyes started to roll back.

‘Here.’ Katherine tucked the blanket from Margaret’s car under the girl’s head as she came out of her faint again.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt her,’ said the motorist. ‘She was moving faster than I was. If she hadn’t run out —’

‘We’ll establish facts later, sir.’ A policeman had arrived with a torch. ‘We need a doctor.’

‘I’m a doctor,’ said Margaret. ‘And help’s coming from Dorcas Free.’ She touched the girl’s limbs gently.

‘What’s happened?’ A male colleague from the hospital crouched beside Margaret. Two orderlies lowered a stretcher to the ground.

‘It’s good to see you, Dr Perch. This girl was struck by a car —’

‘I didn’t mean —’ bleated the motorist.

‘The car was travelling at no great speed. Her right forearm seems to be broken and I suspect bruised or broken ribs. Her ankle and head hurt, but hopefully one is merely sprained and the other merely bumped. The light’s too poor to be sure of anything. Shall we get her to the hospital and —’

Dr Perch turned to the orderlies. ‘Gently does it, chaps. You heard Dr Demeray.’

‘Don’t wanna go to ’orspital,’ said the girl. Her voice was quiet but determined.

‘I’m afraid you have to,’ said Margaret. ‘What’s your name?’

But as the orderlies lifted her carefully onto the stretcher, the girl fainted again.

Margaret stood up. ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘I’ll need to take your statement first,’ said the policeman.

‘Stand down, Dr Demeray,’ said Dr Perch. ‘You’re on leave today and we have plenty of staff at Dorcas Free. Thank you for what you’ve done so far. I’ll telephone later to say what’s what, but I’m sure she’ll be fine.’

‘I thought you’d have had enough of guests,’ said Gil, as they settled to lunch the following day. ‘But thanks for inviting me before I travel to Weymouth. Hotel food is never as nice as home cooked.’

‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d visited while Vera worked here,’ said Fox, with a grimace.

Gil laughed. ‘Margaret wrote that you spent more time eating out than at home.’

‘It was an expensive year, what with one thing and another.’

‘I never knew what you meant about Vera’s cooking,’ said Margaret’s father. ‘One has eaten a good deal worse when travelling.’

‘I’ve only ever had delicious food abroad,’ said Margaret.

‘That’s because you’ve never been further afield than unimaginative places in Western Europe. You might feel differently if I’d taken you on my travels and you’d been faced with eyeballs on a platter.’

‘Yes,’ said Margaret, ‘I might.’ She scowled into her plate. Her father had spent most of her childhood travelling, coming home occasionally to publish books and give magic-lantern talks on his trips. She recalled the rapt audiences, the enthusiastic applause. She and Katherine had joined in as if they didn’t mind that he was away for months at a time. But they had minded. However, her father was as oblivious now as he had been thirty years before.

Fox squeezed her hand gently. ‘I’m not sure Vera didn’t serve up eyeballs once or twice.’

Margaret giggled.

From outside the dining room came a clatter and a hissed exchange.

‘Is everything all right?’ said Gil.

‘Freda and Nellie seem to be at loggerheads,’ said Fox. ‘Isn’t that something that falls under your jurisdiction, Margaret?’

‘I’ve other things to think about.’

‘That girl?’ said Fox. ‘The hospital’s confirmed she’s recovering well. You can see for yourself tomorrow.’

‘What girl?’ said Gil.

Margaret explained. ‘She’s very thin and keeps passing out. Dr Perch says she switches between English and what they think might be Yiddish when confused. She says she can’t recall her name or where she’s from. She must have hit her head harder than I thought.’

‘She’s in the right place,’ said Fox. ‘Maybe our young women need —’

The door opened and Freda walked in bearing the soup tureen. With a face like thunder, she filled their bowls, then topped up their glasses with sherry before withdrawing.

‘A quiet word,’ Fox continued. ‘Or we might have to revert to eating out again.’

‘It’s troubles of the heart, I think,’ said Margaret. ‘I suspect at least one of them has a boy, wants to have one, or is being pursued by one. But why that’s making them argue, unless they like the same boy, I don’t know. It seems a long time since I had to unravel that sort of thing.’

‘Did you have any troubles of the heart, Meg?’ said Margaret’s father. ‘Apart from the regrettable Owen and perhaps missing another opportunity.’ He glanced at Gil. ‘I thought you were busy with work until you met Fox.’

‘Maude was forever breaking hearts, Father,’ said Margaret. ‘Phoebe and I always had to help.’

‘One day it’ll be Edie and Alec,’ said Gil.

Fox choked on his soup. ’Dear God, don’t say that. I’d like to think they’ll both turn out more sensible.’

Gil laughed. ‘I doubt it. But they’re so adorable. I’ve been called some things in my time, but my favourite is Ungill. Far better than Uncle Gil. Don’t ever make them pronounce it correctly. What is it Ed calls you, Margaret? That was always charming.’

‘Maggot,’ said Margaret.

‘I’d hardly call “Maggot” charming,’ said her father.

Margaret shrugged. ‘He went through at least two years of using my proper name, which was both sad and irritating. Now he's reverted to Aunt Maggot, which is somehow reassuring.’

‘Is he enjoying the army as much as he thought he would?’

‘Very much,’ said Margaret. ‘He’d like to get into the Flying Corps but competition is stiff and he’s still very young, so he may not succeed.’

‘Who wouldn’t want to fly?’ said her father. ‘And the younger you are, the easier it is to learn.’

‘Dangerous, though,’ said Gil.

‘Very.’ Margaret glanced at Fox but his face was impassive. He was still sure that war threatened and it was a moot point whether Ed would be safer on the ground or in the air. ‘Let’s change the subject. Won’t you be lonely in Weymouth until we join you next weekend, Gil?’

‘No. A Swiss friend is staying in the town too: Raoul Favre. I imagine we’ll travel about a good deal. I’ll show him the wilds of Dorset, as he’s shown me the wilds of Switzerland. I look forward to introducing you: I know you’ll like him.’ Gil stared into the middle distance, a soft smile on his face, then cleared his throat. ‘My offer of a job at the sanatorium is still open, Margaret, and I’d love to work with you again. Won’t you consider it? The air would be so much better for Edie. If not, perhaps consider a position in the countryside. South Devon or Dorset, maybe. Anything’s better than this foul London air.’ He nodded towards the window.

‘I’m needed at Dorcas Free,’ said Margaret. ‘One of the doctors had to leave in the summer and hasn’t been replaced yet. And horrid as smoky fog is, we live some way from the centre of London and the worst of it. Edie will improve as she grows and I know what to look for.’

‘At the sanatorium you could work the days or hours you like, however you like. We need you there.’

‘Maybe one day.’

‘Switzerland’s a lovely place to live. You’re in the midst of mountains but they still seem distant. It seems unreal sometimes. It feels secure and safe.’

‘I imagine it does,’ said Fox. ‘A perfect place to bring up a family.’

Margaret ignored him. ‘Don’t you miss London?’

Gil shrugged. Perhaps the time when he and Margaret had worked together at St Julia’s seemed as distant and unreal as Swiss mountains, along with his wretched rooms in Tottenham, relative poverty and the risk of imprisonment for breaking laws about whom he should love. He couldn’t be prosecuted in the Swiss canton where he lived if anyone suspected his relationship with Raoul was more than a friendship, but that wasn’t to say the locals would approve. And it was a long way from the avant-garde theatre that Gil had once loved. 

‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘But I have a job I adore. London doesn’t feel like home any more. The only thing I’m sorry about is that I can’t go to Phoebe’s dinner with you and Maude on Wednesday. I sense she has something brewing. Do you know what?’

‘I hope you’re not spending all your leave wondering what we’re all thinking,’ said Margaret. ‘I hadn’t spotted Phoebe looking less than serene. But don’t worry too much about missing it. Etta and Percival will be there too, and you never could abide Etta. I imagine it’s the thought of her and Maude sparring that’s worrying Phoebe, if anything.’

After lunch, Margaret went to the nursery to see the twins and try to establish what was bothering the maids, even if she had no idea what to do about it.

Nellie was jiggling Alec on her hip in a pause from putting away clean laundry. Margaret took the next item and folded it.

‘It’s rather foggy again, ma’am,’ said Nellie. ‘I’m not sure about taking the twins for a walk.’

‘I agree,’ said Margaret. ‘They’ll have to play in here. The master and I will be seeing Dr Trewellan off shortly, but we’d like you to know that we’re giving you an extra half a crown to say thank you for helping with service yesterday, and also for dealing with the twins when they were overtired after the party. You can spend it when we’re in Weymouth.’

‘Ooh, doctor! Thank you! So kind!’

‘Not at all,’ said Margaret. ‘Freda will have the same. Perhaps you could go shopping together.’

‘We could.’ Nellie’s expression closed down. ‘But I daresay she won’t.’

‘Why —’

‘Freda’s being foolish and putting herself in danger. Here, doctor, let me, else I’ll have to iron them all again when you’ve gone.’ She handed Alec to Margaret and shook out the vest Margaret had put away, then refolded it in precisely the same way.

‘What do you mean, “in danger”?’

‘I’m not telling tales.’

‘You just did.’

Nellie folded another vest, biting her lip. ‘I think she’s meeting a fellow, ma’am. I saw her talking to someone who didn’t look quite the ticket.’

‘What makes you say so?’

‘Because she’s judging him on what he looks like,’ said Freda, entering the nursery.

‘That doesn’t sound like you, Nellie,’ said Margaret.

‘I didn’t mean that and I don’t care,’ snapped Nellie. ‘“Man looketh on the outward appearance but God looketh on the heart.” I know that.’

Freda grunted.

‘But he scowls so, Freda,’ said Nellie, with concern in her voice. ‘I don’t think you should be walking out with someone you don’t know nothing about and maybe eloping and ending up in a strange country all alone.’

 Freda rolled her eyes and turned to Margaret. ‘It’s not like that at all, doctor. I’ve better things to do in life than get married just now and you can’t judge someone just cos they scowl a lot. It’s not like people who scowl a lot can’t be perfectly nice.’

She glanced at Margaret, then Nellie, and for a second the two maids shared a conspiratorial grin. But Nellie’s soon vanished. ‘You can’t be too careful, Freda. Not every man is as nice as he seems.’

‘As nice as holy Harry Kirson, you mean,’ said Freda.

‘Who?’ said Margaret, then realised Nellie was blushing. ‘Is that your young man, Nellie?’

‘Yes’m, but he’s quite respectable. A postman. I only do church things with him: Mum won’t hear of us going off on our own yet. He’s not going to kidnap me and take me off somewhere, never to be seen again.’

Freda rolled her eyes. ‘Doctor, have you any post? I’m just going to the box.’

‘To meet him?’ said Nellie.

‘Not that it’s any of your business, Nellie, but no.’

‘I haven’t anything,’ said Margaret. ‘And couldn’t your letter wait until tomorrow, when hopefully the fog’s cleared? I saw a girl knocked down in Marylebone Road yesterday when I took Mrs King home. The motorist couldn’t stop in time.’

Freda blinked. ‘Oh no! What does she look like? Was she badly hurt? Where’s she from?’

‘Not terribly badly hurt,’ said Margaret. ‘But she’s in Dorcas Free for now. She’s small, blonde and by the way she talks, from the East End. Are you afraid it’s a friend?’

Freda shook her head, her expression relieved. ‘No. Don’t worry about it, doctor. And I’ll be careful with the fog and everything. Nellie’s making a fuss about nothing. I can look after myself.’