鸽群中的猫15

Fourteen

MISS CHADWICK LIES AWAKE

IMiss Chadwick was restless. She turned to and fro in her bed counting sheep, and employing othertime-honoured methods of invoking¹ sleep. In vain.

At eight o’clock, when Shaista had not returned, and there had been no news of her, MissChadwick had taken matters into her own hands and rung up Inspector² Kelsey. She was relieved tofind that he did not take the matter too seriously. She could leave it all to him, he assured her. Itwould be an easy matter to check up on a possible accident. After that, he would get in touch withLondon. Everything would be done that was necessary. Perhaps the girl herself was playing truant³.

He advised Miss Chadwick to say as little as possible at the school. Let it be thought that Shaistawas staying the night with her uncle at Claridge’s.

“The last thing you want, or that Miss Bulstrode would want, is anymore publicity,” saidKelsey. “It’s most unlikely that the girl has been kidnapped. So don’t worry, Miss Chadwick.

Leave it all to us.”

But Miss Chadwick did worry.

Lying in bed, sleepless⁴, her mind went from possible kidnapping back to murder.

Murder at Meadowbank. It was terrible! Unbelievable! Meadowbank. Miss Chadwick lovedMeadowbank. She loved it, perhaps, even more than Miss Bulstrode did, though in a somewhatdifferent way. It had been such a risky⁵, gallant⁶ enterprise. Following Miss Bulstrode faithfully intothe hazardous⁸ undertaking⁹, she had endured panic more than once. Supposing the whole thingshould fail. They hadn’t really had much capital. If they did not succeed—if their backing waswithdrawn—Miss Chadwick had an anxious mind and could always tabulate¹⁰ innumerable ifs.

Miss Bulstrode had enjoyed the adventure, the hazard of it all, but Chaddy had not. Sometimes, inan agony of apprehension¹¹, she had pleaded for Meadowbank to be run on more conventional lines.

It would be safer, she urged. But Miss Bulstrode had been uninterested in safety. She had hervision of what a school should be and she had pursued it unafraid. And she had been justified¹² inher audacity¹³. But oh, the relief to Chaddy when success was a fait accompli. When Meadowbankwas established, safely established, as a great English institution. It was then that her love forMeadowbank had flowed most fully⁷. Doubts, fears, anxieties, all slipped from her. Peace andprosperity had come. She basked¹⁴ in the prosperity of Meadowbank like a purring tabby cat.

She had been quite upset when Miss Bulstrode had first begun to talk of retirement¹⁵. Retire now—when everything was set fair? What madness! Miss Bulstrode talked of travel, of all the thingsin the world to see. Chaddy was unimpressed. Nothing, anywhere, could be half as good asMeadowbank! It had seemed to her that nothing could affect the well-being¹⁶ of Meadowbank—Butnow—Murder!

Such an ugly violent word—coming in from the outside world like an ill-mannered storm wind.

Murder—a word associated by Miss Chadwick only with delinquent¹⁷ boys with flick¹⁸ knives, orevil-minded doctors poisoning their wives. But murder here—at a school—and not any school—atMeadowbank. Incredible.

Really, Miss Springer—poor Miss Springer, naturally it wasn’t her fault—but, illogically,Chaddy felt that it must have been her fault in some way. She didn’t know the traditions ofMeadowbank. A tactless woman. She must in some way have invited murder. Miss Chadwickrolled over, turned her pillow, said “I mustn’t go on thinking of it all. Perhaps I had better get upand take some aspirin¹⁹. I’ll just try counting to fifty….”

Before she had got to fifty, her mind was off again on the same track. Worrying. Would all this—and perhaps kidnapping too—get into the papers? Would parents, reading, hasten to take theirdaughters away….

Oh dear, she must calm down and go to sleep. What time was it? She switched on her light andlooked at her watch—Just after a quarter to one. Just about the time that poor Miss Springer …No, she would not think of it anymore. And, how stupid of Miss Springer to have gone off byherself like that without waking up somebody else.

“Oh dear,” said Miss Chadwick. “I’ll have to take some aspirin.”

She got out of bed and went over to the washstand. She took two aspirins with a drink of water.

On her way back, she pulled aside the curtain of the window and peered out. She did so to reassureherself more than for any other reason. She wanted to feel that of course there would never againbe a light in the Sports Pavilion in the middle of the night.

But there was.

In a minute Chaddy had leapt to action. She thrust her feet into stout²⁰ shoes, pulled on a thickcoat, picked up her electric torch and rushed out of her room and down the stairs. She had blamedMiss Springer for not obtaining support before going out to investigate, but it never occurred toher to do so. She was only eager to get out to the Pavilion and find out who the intruder was. Shedid pause to pick up a weapon—not perhaps a very good one, but a weapon of kinds, and then shewas out of the side door and following quickly along the path through the shrubbery. She was outof breath, but completely resolute²¹. Only when she got at last to the door, did she slacken up andtake care to move softly. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it further open and looked in….

II

At about the time when Miss Chadwick was rising from bed in search of aspirin, Ann Shapland,looking very attractive in a black dance frock, was sitting at a table in Le Nid Sauvage eatingSupreme of Chicken and smiling at the young man opposite her. Dear Dennis, thought Ann toherself, always so exactly the same. It is what I simply couldn’t bear if I married him. He is rathera pet, all the same. Aloud she remarked:

“What fun this is, Dennis. Such a glorious change.”

“How is the new job?” said Dennis.

“Well, actually, I’m rather enjoying it.”

“Doesn’t seem to me quite your sort of thing.”

Ann laughed. “I’d be hard put to it to say what is my sort of thing. I like variety, Dennis.”

“I never can see why you gave up your job with old Sir Mervyn Todhunter.”

“Well, chiefly because of Sir Mervyn Todhunter. The attention he bestowed²² on me wasbeginning to annoy his wife. And it’s part of my policy never to annoy wives. They can do you alot of harm, you know.”

“Jealous cats,” said Dennis.

“Oh no, not really,” said Ann. “I’m rather on the wives’ side. Anyway I liked Lady Todhuntermuch better than old Mervyn. Why are you surprised at my present job?”

“Oh, a school. You’re not scholastically²³ minded at all, I should have said.”

“I’d hate to teach in a school. I’d hate to be penned up. Herded²⁴ with a lot of women. But thework as the secretary of a school like Meadowbank is rather fun. It really is a unique place, youknow. And Miss Bulstrode’s unique. She’s really something, I can tell you. Her steel-grey eyegoes through you and sees your innermost secrets. And she keeps you on your toes. I’d hate tomake a mistake in any letters I’d taken down for her. Oh yes, she’s certainly something.”

“I wish you’d get tired of all these jobs,” said Dennis. “It’s quite time, you know, Ann, that youstopped all this racketing about with jobs here and jobs there and—and settled down.”

“You are sweet, Dennis,” said Ann in a noncommittal manner.

“We could have quite fun, you know,” said Dennis.

“I daresay,” said Ann, “but I’m not ready yet. And anyway, you know, there’s my mamma.”

“Yes, I was—going to talk to you about that.”

“About my mamma? What were you going to say?”

“Well, Ann, you know I think you’re wonderful. The way you get an interesting job and thenyou chuck it all up and go home to her.”

“Well, I have to now and again when she gets a really bad attack.”

“I know. As I say, I think it’s wonderful of you. But all the same there are places, you know,very good places nowadays where—where people like your mother are well looked after and allthat sort of thing. Not really loony bins²⁵.”

“And which cost the earth,” said Ann.

“No, no, not necessarily. Why, even under the Health Scheme—”

A bitter note crept into Ann’s voice. “Yes, I daresay it will come to that one day. But in themeantime I’ve got a nice old pussy²⁶ who lives with Mother and who can cope normally. Mother isquite reasonable most of the time—And when she—isn’t, I come back and lend a hand.”

“She’s—she isn’t—she’s never—?”

“Are you going to say violent, Dennis? You’ve got an extraordinarily²⁷ lurid²⁸ imagination. No. Mydear mamma is never violent. She just gets fuddled. She forgets where she is and who she is andwants to go for long walks, and then as like as not she’ll jump into a train or a bus and take offsomewhere and—well, it’s all very difficult, you see. Sometimes it’s too much for one person tocope with. But she’s quite happy, even when she is fuddled. And sometimes quite funny about it. Iremember her saying: ‘Ann, darling, it really is very embarrassing. I knew I was going to Tibetand there I was sitting in that hotel in Dover with no idea how to get there. Then I thought whywas I going to Tibet? And I thought I’d better come home. Then I couldn’t remember how longago it was when I left home. It makes it very embarrassing, dear, when you can’t quite rememberthings.’ Mummy was really very funny over it all, you know. I mean she quite sees the humorousside herself.”

“I’ve never actually met her,” Dennis began.

“I don’t encourage people to meet her,” said Ann. “That’s the one thing I think you can do foryour people. Protect them from—well, curiosity and pity.”

“It’s not curiosity, Ann.”

“No, I don’t think it would be that with you. But it would be pity. I don’t want that.”

“I can see what you mean.”

“But if you think I mind giving up jobs from time to time and going home for an indefiniteperiod, I don’t,” said Ann. “I never meant to get embroiled²⁹ in anything too deeply. Not even whenI took my first post after my secretarial training. I thought the thing was to get really good at thejob. Then if you’re really good you can pick and choose your posts. You see different places andyou see different kinds of life. At the moment I’m seeing school life. The best school in Englandseen from within! I shall stay there, I expect, about a year and a half.”

“You never really get caught up in things, do you, Ann?”

“No,” said Ann thoughtfully, “I don’t think I do. I think I’m one of those people who is a bornobserver. More like a commentator³⁰ on the radio.”

“You’re so detached,” said Dennis gloomily. “You don’t really care about anything or anyone.”

“I expect I shall some day,” said Ann encouragingly.

“I do understand more or less how you’re thinking and feeling.”

“I doubt it,” said Ann.

“Anyway, I don’t think you’ll last a year. You’ll get fed up with all those women,” said Dennis.

“There’s a very good- looking gardener,” said Ann. She laughed when she saw Dennis’sexpression. “Cheer up, I’m only trying to make you jealous.”

“What’s this about one of the mistresses having been killed?”

“Oh, that.” Ann’s face became serious and thoughtful.

“That’s odd, Dennis. Very odd indeed. It was the Games Mistress. You know the type. I-am-a-plain-Games Mistress. I think there’s a lot more behind it than has come out yet.”

“Well, don’t you get mixed up in anything unpleasant.”

“That’s easy to say. I’ve never had any chance at displaying my talents as a sleuth. I think Imight be rather good at it.”

“Now, Ann.”

“Darling, I’m not going to trail dangerous criminals. I’m just going to—well, make a fewlogical deductions³¹. Why and who. And what for? That sort of thing. I’ve come across one piece ofinformation that’s rather interesting.”

“Ann!”

“Don’t look so agonized³². Only it doesn’t seem to link up with anything,” said Ann thoughtfully.

“Up to a point it all fits in very well. And then, suddenly, it doesn’t.” She added cheerfully,“Perhaps there’ll be a second murder, and that will clarify things a little.”

It was at exactly that moment that Miss Chadwick pushed open the Sports Pavilion door.

 

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