Philippa Carr - Time for Silence

Understanding dawned on me. I said, “That place in Folkestone?”

“Yes. There was nothing there. I had a document in my bureau. On it there were lists of ammunition that were supposed to be stored in this farmhouse which was derelict. It was near the coast and, according to this document, was due for almost immediate shipment. Lucinda, there was only one reason for blowing up that farmhouse, and that was because it was believed that we had stocks of ammunition there. And this happened because in my desk was this document. It was placed there as a test.”

“So then…it is someone in this house!” I cried. “Oh…I can’t believe it. What can we do?”

“Short of having a watcher always in the room, I can’t say. I shall not keep anything of importance there now. But what is vital is to discover the spy. We know now that there is one…in this house.”

“What can we do now?”

“We just go on as before. Always be on the alert. If anything extraordinary happens…however trivial…let’s talk about it.”

“Yes, father. I understand,” I said soberly.

I felt very uneasy. It was an eerie feeling, to know that someone near to us was working for the enemy. It had been proved.

I felt the need to be alone to think. I could not believe Mr. and Mrs. Cherry could possibly be concerned. Yet Mrs. Cherry had had the key. If any workmen came to the house, she would be the one to deal with them. Alice, Meg, Carrie—impossible! The Mentons? Eddie? Eddie was the most likely. He had not been with us so long. He was young. Perhaps he would be tempted. Whoever wanted such information would pay well for it.

I went for a walk and was wandering rather aimlessly when suddenly I saw the words BECONSDALE ROAD. There was a familiar ring about it. Of course, Beconsdale Square was where the house Annabelinda was going to see was situated.

The Square must be near the Road, I presumed, and it did not take me long to find it.

The houses were certainly grand. They were all different, which added to their attraction. Most of them were well set back from the sidewalks and had their drives.

They all appeared to be occupied by the affluent, which was what I had expected. I wondered which one was for sale. I walked around the square, in the center of which was a well-kept garden that I supposed was for the use of the residents, in accordance with the custom.

I found the empty house. It was certainly impressive, and I felt sure Annabelinda would be pleased.

I could not resist opening the iron gates and looking along the drive. The grass on the lawn needed cutting and the shrubs surrounding the house were overgrown. That gave the place an air of mystery. That would all be different when Annabelinda took charge. I could well imagine that the house offered just what she wanted.

I walked up the drive. If I met anyone I would say that a friend of mine was interested in the place and I should shortly be coming along with her to see it. There was a big brass knocker and I could not resist knocking. It sounded quite deafening in the silence all around.

The place was quite isolated because of the grounds surrounding it. I guessed it had been empty some little time.

There was no answer to my knock, which was perhaps just as well as I felt I was probably being a little officious. I went around to the back of the house and looked through windows. I could see the hall and wide staircase. It would be grand enough for Annabelinda, I was sure.

I could not cast off the eerie feeling the house aroused in me. But empty houses did have that effect—particularly one which, in spite of being situated in a London square, was somewhat isolated.

It must have been two days later when Annabelinda called. She was in a state of tension still, and I wondered what was happening, for I certainly felt that something was.

On this occasion she was anxious to be alone with me.

She said rather breathlessly, “I have decided that I am going to tell Marcus.”

“Tell Marcus!”

“Yes. I am going to tell him everything.”

“Everything?”

“I…I’ll see. I am going to tell him about Carl. I have to, Lucinda. I can’t go on. I can see I have got to.”

“You’ve seen Carl again?”

She nodded.

“And he is being difficult?”

She nodded again. “I can’t go on, Lucinda. I just can’t.”

“Don’t work yourself up into a frenzy. I think you are doing the right thing. I am sure Marcus will understand. After all, he is a man of the world.”

“People expect women not to have lovers.”

“Well, things don’t always work out as people expect.”

“You seem to think it is so easy.”

“Of course I don’t. But I feel sure it will be all right. If you didn’t tell him, you’d be worrying about Carl forever. If you tell him the truth, you’ll know that is the worst that can happen. At least you’ve faced it.”

“I shall choose my moment.”

“That’s sensible enough.”

“I’m thinking of it all the time. I am going to tell Carl I can’t do what he wants.”

“What does he want?”

“He…he’s still in love with me. He won’t give me up. He’ll make trouble, Lucinda.”

“I am sure you should tell Marcus. Then you’ll be well rid of Carl. Let him know you don’t care for his blackmail…for that’s what it is, isn’t it? Marcus will send Carl about his business.”

“It’s not easy, but I have to do it. Who would have thought all this could have come out of…that…?”

“Poor Annabelinda! But you are doing the right thing at last. Marcus must understand.”

“Do you think so?”

“He must,” I said firmly. “Come and see Edward.”

“I don’t feel up to it.”

“It will do you good. Andrée always likes to see you. She thinks you are so attractive and lead such an interesting life.”

“Well, I suppose I could.”

“Of course you could.”

I took her up to the nursery. Edward was sitting on the floor coloring pictures. Andrée was sewing.

Edward looked up and said, “Hello,” while Andrée laid aside her sewing and said, “Good morning, Mrs. Merrivale.”

“Good morning,” replied Annabelinda and sat down.

“You are better today, Mrs. Merrivale?” asked Andrée.

“Yes, thanks. Much.”

“I’m so glad.”

“You haven’t brought your funny hat,” commented Edward without looking up from his painting.

“You don’t appreciate this one?” asked Annabelinda.

I could see that Edward was mouthing the word appreciate. A new one for him. He would use it soon afterward in the way he always did. If he decided he liked it, it would figure in his conversations for the next days to come.

The newspaper was lying on the table. Annabelinda glanced at it. “They are still going on about that explosion,” she said.

“What a mercy there was no one there,” commented Andrée.

“I wonder who did it,” I said. “It seemed pointless. Like that place…you remember…Milton Priory.”

“Wasn’t that something to do with the gas?” asked Andrée.

“They did say something about that at the time,” I replied.

“I’m glad no one was hurt,” put in Annabelinda. “I’m very glad about that.”

She’s changed, I thought. She sounds as though she really cares. A little while ago she wouldn’t have given the matter a thought.

“By the way,” said Andrée, “did you ever see that house you were interested in?”

“Oh…I was forgetting. That was really what I came about.”

“Is this the one in Beconsdale Square?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. It sounds exciting.”

“I forgot to tell you. I took a look at it.”

“Really?”

“Only from the outside. At least, I suppose it was the one. It was the only one, as a matter of fact, that seemed to be empty in the square.”

“So you actually went there?”

“I came upon Beconsdale Road by chance and thought the square must be close by, so I did a little investigation. I went along the drive and looked in the windows. If it is the one I saw, it is going to suit you.”

“Well, I am going to see it tomorrow. I want you to come with me, Lucinda.”

“I’d love to see more of it.”

“You know exactly where it is. Could you meet me there at two-thirty? The agent will be there to let us in.”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “I must say I found it most intriguing.”

The next day I set out for Beconsdale Square. It was about two-fifteen, which I thought would give me just enough time to reach the house by two-thirty. I guessed Annabelinda would be on time, although normally she was inclined to be late. But this was something she would be enthusiastic about, even though she had Carl Zimmerman on her mind.

I arrived about a minute or so before two-thirty. There was no sign of the agent who was to meet us there.

I went up the drive and stood at the door. It was very silent. I was surprised that Annabelinda had not arrived. I strolled back to the gate and as I did so a man appeared. He was in striped trousers and black coat, and as he carried a briefcase, I guessed that he was the house agent.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “I am a few moments late…the traffic. Shall we go in, Mrs. Merrivale?”

“I am not Mrs. Merrivale,” I replied. “I’m a friend of hers. She wanted me to see the house with her.”

“Oh, of course. May I have the pleasure…?”

“Miss Greenham,” I said, and we shook hands.

“My name is Partington; John Partington of Partington and Pike. Well, I am rather relieved that Mrs. Merrivale is a little late. I hate to keep ladies waiting.”

“Yes, I’m surprised she’s late. She is so eager to see the house. As you say, the traffic can be a problem.”

“I am sure she will be attracted by this house,” he went on. “There is really something very special about it.”

“Yes, it looks interesting. There is quite a sizable garden, by London standards.”

“It really is the country house in town, and that’s the truth.”

“I’m very much looking forward to seeing it.”

He glanced anxiously along the drive. There was no sign of Annabelinda.

“She must be along soon now,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sure she will.”

A few more moments passed and still there was no sign of Annabelinda. He was beginning to be uneasy, and so was I. It was twenty minutes to three.

“Why don’t we go in?” I said.

He was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Yes, why not? If something has prevented her coming, you can tell her what you think. But I have no doubt that she will be here soon.”

He took a last look around, opened the door and stood aside for me to enter.

I stepped into the hall. It was spacious and there was the grand staircase that I was sure would please Annabelinda.

I walked across the hall, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the wood floor.

“It is lovely!” I said.

“A very desirable property.”

“Where do these doors lead?”

“Well, one would be to the kitchen, I imagine, and the other to one of the reception rooms.”

I opened that door. I was unprepared for what met my eyes. Annabelinda was lying on the floor, very still, and there was something about her which filled me with an increasing horror.

I stood for a few stunned seconds staring at her. I heard myself gasp, “Mr. Partington…”

“What is it, Miss Greenham?”

He came and stood by my side.

“My God,” he said. “She’s been strangled.”

I had knelt beside her. “Annabelinda,” I said. I kept saying her name over and over again.

She lay there inert. There was a look of surprised terror on her face, which was white and lifeless.

“Annabelinda,” I sobbed. “What was it? What happened?”

I heard Mr. Partington say, “We’ve got to get help….”

I could not rise. I just knelt there, looking at her.

IT WAS LIKE A bewildering dream. There were people…doctor…police…and others.

What had happened, they wanted to know. Why were we there?

“I was to meet her here,” I told them. “It was half past two. We thought she was late. We went into the house. We thought she would come….”

Someone took me home. My father came soon after. They must have sent for him.

I was lying on my bed and he was sitting beside me. The doctor had given me a sedative. He said I needed it.

So I lay there with my hazy thoughts, and I could think of nothing but Annabelinda…lying dead in that empty house.