Read Online A Death in Two Parts by Jane Aiken Hodge - Free Book Online Page B

heard her refer to Mr Ffeathers. Mostly, their conversations consisted of a string of probing questions from Mrs Ffeathers about the behaviour of the other members of the party, which she parried as best she might, though with an uncomfortable feeling that she was wasting her time. What Mrs Ffeathers did not deduce from her silences, she undoubtedly found out from Mrs Marshland, who acted as chief of staff to a lively intelligence service of white-capped maids. Privacy was impossible in that house; many of the doors had glass panes and there were telephones in every room, with Mrs Ffeathers acting as unofficial switchboard operator.
    â€œI never thought hell would be so comfortable,” Mark said to Patience on the morning of Christmas Eve. “And you can tell Gran I said that, too.” She had surprised herself by confiding to him the difficulty she had in making her reports at once interesting and harmless. “What are you doing this afternoon?” he went on. “Are you on duty? How about a walk? I warn you, dinner tonight will be no joke. Let’s goand do a little shouting ahead of time and then maybe we’ll be able to behave.”
    â€œI wish I could, but I’ve got some jobs to do for Mrs Ffeathers.” It was close enough to the truth, Patience thought crossly as she let herself quietly out of a side door half an hour later and started off across the downs towards Leyning.
    It was a ridiculous enough expedition, she thought to herself; three miles there and three back to buy chocolate animals for the whole party. “For their stockings,” Mrs Ffeathers had explained. “I do like an old-fashioned Christmas with stockings along the mantelshelf.” She was a parody of a stage dear old lady. “And they must be a surprise, so don’t tell a soul where you’re going. Slip out the back way; no one’ll notice; they’re all dead to the world in the afternoon.”
    It was all very well, thought Patience, but a little company would have shortened the walk; besides, if she had asked Mark, he would have driven her over in no time. But Mrs Ffeathers had been insistent to the point of a thinly veiled allusion to Patience’s four pounds a week and it had seemed simpler to give in and promise. After all, thought Patience, she should have an answer from college soon after Christmas, and she had already made up her mind that even if they could not help her, she would make that an excuse to leave Featherstone Hall. By then she would have saved enough money for that impossible fare up to Suffolk and could go and take council with her friends, the Cunninghams. Two more weeks at the outside, she said to herself as she started down the long slope to Leyning, and anything for a quiet life in the meantime.
    She found the shop that specialised in chocolate animals easily enough and gave them her order, thinking how characteristic it was of old Mrs Ffeathers to take it for granted she would use her own sweet coupons. Then she went to a chemist with the prescription Mrs Ffeathers had given her. “I can never sleep at Christmas time; it’s all much too exciting.” By this time Mrs Ffeathers had been the frail old invalid.
    That left her with the last errand, the one she had been half-consciously putting off. Mrs Ffeathers had called her back at the last minute. “Just cash me this cheque at the Black Stag, would you? They know me there, and I don’t want to run out of petty cash over Christmas.”
    Fifty pounds was a lot of petty cash, Patience thought, turning reluctant steps towards the Black Stag. She always felt uncomfortable cashing cheques anywhere but at the right bank; it seemed – ridiculously, she knew – as if you were asking a favour. But when Mrs Ffeathers produced the cheque she had already lost her struggle over the secrecy of the expedition and did not want to start the business of veiled threat and honeyed cajolement all over again.