Clementine knew Elaine had always resented the restrictions her father had placed on her movements, mostly because there was always a lot of work to do on the farm and not enough hands to go around. Even so, Clementine couldn’t understand why Elaine wanted to get involved with organising the Autumn Fair if she didn’t enjoy it or spending time with the people involved in ensuring it was a success.
“I like Mr Aldwych,” she mused. Her thoughts turned to the latest death the entire village learned of first thing that morning. “It is a shame about Mrs Riverton, but I never got to know her all that well. I liked Mr Richardson a lot, though.”
“I didn’t realise you knew him at all,” Elaine retorted. “He isn’t part of the committee.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Clementine turned solemn.
“When did you last see him?”
Clementine squinted a bit. “I think it was on the morning of Sally’s death. I saw him going about his business.”
“He was there? At Sally’s house, I mean?”
“He was at the end of the street,” Clementine replied. “Why?”
“I didn’t realise Sally knew him all that well either.”
“She didn’t, but she has been in this village just as long as you and I. She knew everyone as well. Why, what do you have against Mr Richardson?”
“He was a busybody,” Elaine muttered. “I don’t doubt he was the one who was foolish enough to go around the village stirring everyone into thinking there is a murderer amongst us.”
“You don’t think there is?”
“No, I don’t. You know as well as I do that this village thrives on gossip. It is understandable that people want to keep their private matters private and haven’t told everyone about their illnesses and problems. Why everyone wants to start to think that those who have died have been murdered is beyond me.”
Clementine opened her mouth to argue but realised she was only going to engage in a war of words with her friend, and it was one she doubted she would win. She was painfully aware that she didn’t have a shred of proof that she could put forward to support her suspicions even though each death seemed to prove she was right.
I cannot discuss it with Elaine because I promised father not to discuss the deaths with anybody outside of the house.
“Don’t you think it is odd that so many people have died so unexpectedly?” Clementine asked anyway.
“No, I don’t,” Elaine declared flatly. “If you do anything for now, Clementine, take a word of advice from me and concentrate on the fair. All of this nonsense about murder will blow over in time.”
“Now you sound like Moss.”
“Moss? Who is Moss?” Elaine asked. She paused and looked up at Clementine, her narrow face alive with curiosity.
“Just someone I know. He is a friend of the Captain’s,” Clementine edged.
Elaine rolled her eyes but didn’t seem all that interested in Clementine’s friends and acquaintances anymore. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I want some tea and cake. How about it?”
“I can’t. I must get home. Father will be waiting for me,” Clementine replied. She saw disappointment flood her friend’s eyes and immediately felt guilty but desperately wanted to go home. “How about you come to my house tomorrow and we can have tea then?”
“You know it is market day,” Elaine said crisply, clearly put-out at Clementine’s rejection. “Father wants me to go with him.”
“That’s right, it is Thursday, isn’t it? Maybe we can do it another time? We have the committee meeting later, don’t forget. Maybe we can have some tea afterwards?”
Elaine busied herself by picking up her basket and didn’t answer. Clementine suspected Elaine was feeling a little put-out, but when she tried to find a way to ease her friend’s upset, couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“I am going this way. I shall see you at the meeting.” Without even looking at Clementine again, Elaine walked away.
Clementine opened her mouth to call after her only to find herself staring at the trees. The only evidence of Elaine’s presence was the faint crunch of her boots as she made her way home. Clementine remained in the field long enough to look around for the butterfly Elaine had tried to show her only to realise that at some point while they had been talking it had flown away.
“Oh, well, maybe next time,” Clementine sighed and began to make her way home.
“Hello, my
dear,” the Captain called suddenly from the other side of the high hedge that lined the meadow.