The Sleeping and the Dead

‘Wait. There’s more drama to come. In 1964 when Theo Michael was ten, there was a fire in the family home. It was big news. The place was burned to a shell and Emily, the little girl, Michael’s stepsister, was killed. Crispin Randle sold the estate and some months later he resigned his seat in the Commons. Michael isn’t mentioned in the account of the fire or the resignation.’

‘Is that significant?’

‘Dunno. Perhaps it was too painful for Crispin to have him around. Perhaps Michael reminded him of the death of his first wife and his daughter. Perhaps Crispin had some sort of breakdown and couldn’t cope.’

‘Michael was only ten!’

‘Old enough to be shipped off to boarding school.’

‘Why did he come to Cranford then? And why the change of identity?’

Arthur shrugged. ‘Teenage rebellion? It’s possible he didn’t get on with his stepmother. Perhaps he resented the way his father dumped him.’

‘Perhaps.’ It’s all guesswork, she thought. Really, despite Arthur’s excitement we’re not much further forward. ‘Do we know where Stella and Crispin are living now?’

‘There’s no record. But the police will find out easily enough. We’ve done all the hard work for them.’ He hesitated. ‘Don’t you have an early finish today?’

‘Why?’ She knew he wanted something from her. Living with Rosie had given her a sixth sense about people bumming favours.

‘What about going to Cranford? This afternoon. We can give all this information to Porteous in person. That’ll stop him hassling you.’

Who are you kidding? she thought. That’s not what this is about. This is about you showing off to the police. You want the glory. You want to sit there and gloat.

‘We could stay the night. I could meet your friends. We could be back in time for work tomorrow.’

‘Go on then.’ She couldn’t think of an argument against it and, as Rosie knew, she’d always been an easy touch.

She phoned Porteous from the library. Dave had sloped off and Marty pretended not to listen.

‘Mrs Morton,’ Porteous said. ‘I was hoping to speak to you. More questions I’m afraid. Something’s come up.’

‘I can’t talk now. I’m at work.’ She couldn’t face an interview over the phone. She wanted Arthur there.

He said he was tied up all day and that he’d come to The Old Rectory in the evening. She sensed he was preoccupied and wondered if there’d been a development in the case. Perhaps he’d discovered Michael’s background without Arthur’s help.

Later she phoned Sally and asked if she could put the two of them up for the night as paying guests.

‘A double room?’ Sally asked mischievously. ‘The honeymoon suite?’

‘Of course not!’ Hannah thought her humour hadn’t developed since they were children. She’d always been a tease about sex.

Arthur hadn’t quite finished his class when she arrived at his room at lunchtime. Some form of role-play was going on. Hannah walked back down the corridor so she wouldn’t be tempted to watch. She found that sort of exercise embarrassing enough without spectators, though she’d come to realize that Arthur liked play-acting and games.

He admitted as much in the car. He’d been asking about the people who’d been around at the time of Michael’s death. She described Roger Spence, Sally and her disc-jockey boyfriend, Stephen and Sylvia Brice. By the time they arrived at The Old Rectory she had the feeling that he knew them as well as she did and probably understood them better.

‘What’s all this about, Arthur?’ It was her librarian, who’s-been-turning-down-the-page-corners voice.‘I really think we should leave it to the police.’

‘Come on, girl. Don’t spoil my fun.’ She was about to say tartly that it wasn’t fun for her when he added, ‘I might leave it to them if I could be certain they’d get it right.’ He paused. ‘You must have met men inside who don’t deserve to be there.’

‘I’ve met men who say they don’t.’

‘Well, I don’t want any cock-ups in this case.’ He smiled but she wasn’t reassured. He worked for the Home Office. He should have had more faith in the system.

It was just after two when they arrived. Hannah had expected Sally to be at work but she was there to meet them. Curiosity about Arthur, Hannah thought, and a nose for a story. Sally hustled them into the dining-room and organized a late lunch. Later, over coffee, Roger joined them too.

They talked about Michael Grey. It was Arthur’s doing, but perhaps the Spences were eager to talk about him anyway. Sally had her own agenda.

‘I had the impression he’d come from the private system,’ Roger said, ‘but his Latin wasn’t up to much. Hardly prep-school standard. Not what you’d expect.’

‘Was he doing Latin A level?’ Arthur gave the impression he was just being polite. Hannah knew better.

‘No, but I dragooned him in to help with one of my first-year groups. In the end I let him go. He wasn’t any use at all.’

‘Perhaps he just wanted his free period back.’

‘Perhaps. I don’t think so. It’s quite hard to fake genuine ignorance, isn’t it?’

‘How did you get to know him if you didn’t teach him?’

‘Through the school play. I coached him. Individual rehearsals.’