‘Yes,’ she agreed wistfully. The desire to help Geoff would be overpowering. ‘Let’s do that.’

  ‘Very well.’ I was trying to keep my tone light, not making a challenge out of it. ‘So we’ll assume that Mr Llewellyn began by asking you about your visit to the ladies’ toilet, the one just behind the yew hedge, beyond which Jennie was sitting and painting.’

  I was being very careful and very precise.

  ‘Yes,’ Elise whispered. ‘That’s how it started off.’

  ‘You told him, did you, that you went inside?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’ve said that to you a hundred times.’

  ‘Never mind what you’ve told me, Elise. I’m asking you now about what you told the superintendent. Which was that you not only went inside, but also availed yourself of the facilities?’

  I couldn’t have put it more delicately than that, I thought.

  ‘I did say that,’ she declared, almost in triumph.

  ‘You said that to the superintendent?’

  ‘Oh no…no. Of course not. It was to the lady detective. I didn’t know they had lady detectives, but apparently—’

  ‘All right, Elise. They do. And this one’s called Woman Detective Inspector Perry.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘All right.’ I sighed. ‘It doesn’t really matter. The point is—did they believe you?’

  ‘Oh no.’ On this point she seemed quite confident.

  ‘Elise,’ I said, ‘you’re talking as though it doesn’t matter what they thought. And it really does matter, you know.’

  ‘I have told you what they thought.’ She was now spacing her words heavily. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, Elise, of course,’ I said quickly, aware that I could lose her confidence with one wrong word, one suspect tone of voice, one expression of doubt. ‘So they clearly thought you were lying. Did they actually say so?’

  She tried to laugh lightly about it, but her voice was unsteady.

  ‘They called me a first-class liar. Dyed in the wool. They said I’d got a good reason for going to where Jennie was working, because they knew all about the painting I’d had slashed, and that I’d found out that Jennie had done that, and they said they knew I’d really gone across the bridge, and up that cobbled bit, to have it out with her. Have it out! What a funny saying. He meant: have a go at her. Oh, you needn’t worry, I knew exactly what he was getting at. But I’ve got no patience at all for that stupid nonsense. All right! So somebody had slashed my painting, and Geoff had found out for me that it was Jennie. You can believe me, but I was looking for the chance to tell Jennie a few things. Some words. But words, Phillie. Not hitting her. Not with anything. And not at that time, anyway. But perhaps…’

  She stopped abruptly, bit her lower lip, then turned up her hands and stared at them, as though they had betrayed her by resorting to violence when she wasn’t looking.

  ‘Perhaps what, Elise?’

  ‘Scribbling my fingers all over her new painting. Ruin hers, d’you see?’

  ‘Yes. I see. A good idea. But you didn’t do that?’

  ‘I didn’t even see her.’

  I shook my head. ‘But you said you did see her, Elise. Afterwards. When the woman found her, and ran off…’

  ‘Yes. Then I saw her. A peep. But I didn’t get to see her when she…when I could’ve told her what I thought about her, and her painting was already spoilt, because the easel was knocked over and the painting was on the ground, and…’ She clamped a hand over her lips.

  ‘Words,’ I said. ‘Sticks and stones.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘What we used to say when I was very young, Elise. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard that one. It’s not true, anyway. Words…words…they can be terrible.’

  ‘It depends, perhaps, on who says them,’ I offered, just to keep her going.

  ‘Well…he said them. That Llewellyn person. He kept saying them.’

  ‘What words did he keep saying, Elise?’

  She didn’t at first reply, but stared ahead, her mind with the cobbled walkway and the bridge, but nevertheless observing her surroundings.

  ‘The weather’s going to break. Look what it’s like over the bay,’ she said emptily.

  I looked. Heavy grey clouds hung in the west, and the horizon was no longer visible. She was trying to distract me.

  ‘What words, Elise?’ I persisted.

  ‘He called me…’ Her voice was hushed, almost in wonder. ‘Called me a liar. A born liar. A blatant liar. With his face right close up to mine. Sneering. Said he knew I was lying. Knew it. But I wasn’t, Phillie. Really, I wasn’t.’

  ‘He meant what you’d told him about the ladies’ toilet,’ I explained. ‘Isn’t that so, Oliver?’ I asked, because he’d been silent for too long.

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ he agreed heavily. ‘Because it’s closed. So he would assume that the rest was lies, too, when you’d said you went in there, Elise.’

  ‘But I did. I did!’

  Oh dear. Tears again in a minute, I thought. So…ask her for details.

  ‘And did you hear anything, Elise? Could you hear anything from inside there?’ I wanted to tie her down to a valid picture.

  ‘Oh yes.’ She nodded violently, her hair falling over her face. She swept it back. ‘I could hear quite clearly. The windows at the side were open, you see.’

  This was the first mention of windows that she’d made.

  ‘Windows, Elise?’

  ‘You know. High up in the wall. Small windows, opening out like letterbox flaps.’

  This was very graphic. I glanced at Oliver, and he smiled thinly. It was not something that she could have invented, and it carried with it a convincing verisimilitude. I wondered why she had not mentioned the windows before. But probably she would not appreciate their significance.

  ‘Yes. I know what you mean,’ I assured her ‘So you were able to hear something out there?’

  ‘Not much. But I did. Something.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  ‘Oh—somebody running. All the way across the bridge. Running—and those planks, they rattle, you know. Running, and then up the cobbles and past the Ladies, and then…’ She stopped, her eyes vague. She was probing her memory.

  ‘Then, Elise?’

  ‘Then—after a minute—running back.’

  ‘Back across the bridge?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that was all?’

  ‘All there was.’

  ‘You’re certain, Elise?’

  ‘Haven’t I said?’

  Then she tossed her head, stuck out her lower lip, and looked sulky.

  ‘And you told that to Llewellyn?’ I ventured.

  ‘Oh yes—but he didn’t believe a word of it.’

  Yet—it was circumstantial. If the place hadn’t been closed, it would have been acceptable.

  It seemed for one moment that she had detected my scepticism, and that she was on the verge of tears again.

  ‘But the superintendent wouldn’t have left it at that, Elise,’ I said quickly. ‘There must have been more that you told him.’

  ‘Well…yes.’ Now she seemed uncertain.

  ‘Then tell us, Elise.’ Still she was requiring a little pressure before she parted with her confidences. She had learned that it is dangerous to confide anything to anybody in whom she could not completely trust. I found this a little dispiriting.

  ‘Tell us what else he asked, Elise,’ I persisted, though gently. ‘He couldn’t have spent all the time he had you there, just asking you one question. Over and over.’

  ‘Oh—of course not.’

  ‘So…what?’

  ‘He started telling me things, instead of asking. He did explain that. He said it might be quicker.’

  ‘That sounds reasonable. Go on, Elise.’

  ‘And he was forever turning to that woman of his…’ She paused.

  I was amused by this description of their professional relationship.

  ‘And talking,’ Elise went on stubbornly. ‘To each other—as though what they were saying was the truth. Then glancing at me every now and then and saying, “Isn’t that so, Miss Harcourt?” And if I said no or yes, it didn’t seem to matter a toss. They’d just smile at me and say, “Oh, but you tell lies, Miss Harcourt.” And shake their heads.’

  She stared at me with huge, hurt eyes. They had not pressured her, they had not bullied her or trapped her into dangerous admissions. They had coerced her into agreeing with what they believed to be the truth, on the simple principle of pretending to accept that everything she said on her own initiative had to be lies.

  Artless Elise would never have been able to oppose that. She would not realise that the only way to combat it would have been deliberately to tell lies, until it all became ridiculous nonsense. Because she could not tell lies—except for that central one. She had not used that ladies’ toilet, argue as she might.

  ‘What you should have done, Elise,’ I told her, trying the idea on her, ‘was to tell deliberate lies. Pile them on, until they became farcical.’

  She clutched at my arm. ‘Oh…but I did.’ And she giggled.

  ‘Real, genuine, all-along-the-line lies?’ I asked challengingly. She nodded with extreme gravity.

  ‘Such as?’ But I was feeling very depressed.

  ‘Oh…’ She shrugged. ‘Pretended I had seen somebody. It was what he wanted, because he kept asking that. So I said I had.’ Her eyes were huge. I nodded agreement, though my spirits were sinking.

  ‘Go on,’ I ventured. Elise’s lies would be apt to carry more weight than her truths.

  ‘I said I’d seen somebody—a man. Somebody in slacks, anyway. And running away, then disappearing under the trees. This was when I came out, you see. Standing outside. And—silly me—I said I thought it might’ve been Geoff. Though why he’d be running, I don’t know. And—’

  ‘What?’ I cut in sharply.

  ‘Because he’d suggested that, and it was just the most ridiculous thing to suppose, so I agreed. Telling a lie, d’you see. Because, of course, it couldn’t have been Geoff. Couldn’t. Because he hadn’t been to see us—now, had he! And he’d do his tour of all of us in order. Pam first, then me (and you and Oliver, of course, Philipa) and then Philip and Martin…oh, you know what I mean. But Geoff hadn’t been, so I reckoned it couldn’t have been Geoff I saw the other side of the bridge…’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘So that was why I told him a lie, and said it could’ve been.’ She hesitated and looked thoughtful. ‘And of course, I suppose—really it could.’

  ‘Even though you made it up to entertain Mr Llewellyn?’ I took her nod to be agreement, and tried to smile at Oliver. His eyes looked blank and empty.

  ‘You did see somebody, though?’ I asked. ‘Somebody who was more real?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘This was before or after you went into the Ladies?’ I was virtually conceding the possibility that she had been inside. She didn’t even blink.

  Her eyes were wide with innocence. ‘Oh…before. Somebody different. Not Geoff,’ she clarified. ‘When I’d nearly got there, crossing the bridge. Going away from me, you see. Didn’t I tell you that? Well, I did see somebody, walking away up the cobbles—towards the market-place.’

  ‘Away from you?’

  ‘Of course. If it’d been towards me, we’d have met, wouldn’t we?’ she demanded with crushing logic.

  ‘Yes, I understand that, Elise,’ I said. ‘But that was before you’d even reached the Ladies?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘So it’d got nothing at all to do with the person you heard running?’

  ‘Oh no. Because that was after I was inside.’

  ‘Yes, Elise. I see what you mean.’

  I glanced at Oliver. His face was expressionless, his raised eyebrows indicating his thoughts. He nodded for me to carry on.

  ‘I don’t understand you, Elise,’ I told her gently. ‘You said—somebody, when you were just arriving, was walking away from you up the cobbles and towards the market-place. Did you recognise that person?’

  She shrugged, pouting. ‘It was somebody. A man I thought. Divided legs, you see, though these days…And I couldn’t see very well, of course.’

  ‘Why of course?’

  ‘Well…oh, you are slow, Phillie…the sun was right in my eyes.’

  I conjured up a mental image of relative locations. Yes—it had been about midday, and Elise would have been looking south. That sounded valid.

  ‘In any event,’ she said, ‘I’d never have recognised whoever it was, sun or no sun.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well…’ she said, sighing as though she couldn’t for the life of her understand my failure to grasp it. ‘I hadn’t got my contacts in, that’s why.’

  ‘Contacts?’ I looked at Oliver. He lifted his shoulders. Then I understood. ‘Contact lenses?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m short-sighted. Not many people know. I don’t spread it around. And I’m not getting along with them at all well.’ She made a gesture of annoyance. ‘So I suppose it’ll have to be specs, after all. I did promise my optician I’d give his contacts a try. But it’s no good. I just don’t like them. So I’d taken them out, as it was only a matter of walking to the Ladies, and I knew the way with my eyes shut.’

  ‘Eyes shut,’ I murmured.

  ‘So—whoever it was I saw, it could’ve been Geoff, as much—’

  ‘Wait,’ I cut in. ‘Hold on a minute, Elise. We were talking about the person you saw ahead of you, walking up the cobbled slope.’

  ‘Oh…were we?’ she asked politely. ‘I thought—the other person, and I suppose that one really could have been Geoff, as much as anybody else. But I told that Llewellyn person it was, just to satisfy him, and he looked at that woman, and smirked.’

  ‘You could see him clearly enough, then?’

  ‘Mr Llewellyn?’ she asked. ‘Oh yes, quite clearly. Close to, you see. I’m short-sighted. Didn’t I tell you that? I mean, I can see you well enough, Phillie. And Oliver.’

  ‘So you’re not wearing them now?’

  ‘No. Just for distance. Driving, and things like that. And painting. But if I can see the scene nice and sharp, they make the actual painting a bit blurred. Oh—it is annoying.’

  Oliver cleared his throat. ‘I understand there are bi-focals.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’m going to try those next. When I get home.’

  ‘So you were really telling him lies?’ Oliver asked. ‘Telling Llewellyn you’d seen Geoff…it was a lie, because it could have been anybody.’

  ‘Oh yes. And it was fun. He obviously didn’t understand. I suppose they don’t have to be too bright to become policemen. It livened them up no end, though. But they didn’t seem to be able to decide if I was telling fibs—or not. So it was all a bit of a giggle.’

  ‘And were you?’ asked Oliver. ‘Or not?’

  ‘Oh! What? Oh, I see what you mean.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘Well…I’ll never know, now, will I! It was somebody, anyway.’

  ‘But Elise,’ I said quickly, because she was becoming far too intimate with my Oliver, ‘if you saw this person, not clearly, but as a person, when you were coming out of the Ladies, and that person was leaving rapidly the other side of the bridge…I paused in order to confirm that I still had her attention. ‘But’, I went on, ‘did you see that same person when you were arriving ahead of you on the bridge?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly have told if it was the same person. You don’t listen, Philipa. I hadn’t got my contacts in.’

  ‘Yes. But you did see a person, ahead of you. Going up the cobbled walkway?’

  ‘Yes. That’s so.’

  ‘Did that person look as though they’d just come round from Jennie’s site, or just come across the bridge? You’d have seen this person ahead of you.’

  ‘I don’t know! You keep asking me the same things. As bad as that Llewellyn person, you are. I hadn’t got my contacts in, and the sun was in my eyes—and anyway, I was watching my feet. That close, I can see well enough.’

  ‘Your feet…’

  ‘In case I tripped. Those planks aren’t at all level, Philipa. And there’re some loose. You want to watch your footing.’

  ‘I’ll be careful. But did you—from size or shape, skirt or slacks think you knew that person?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Who did it look like? Not Geoff—surely!’ I prayed desperately that she would say no.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said positively, and I sighed. ‘Baggy slacks,’ she added. ‘Geoff never wears baggy slacks.’

  ‘Could it have been somebody we know?’

  ‘It could have been anybody, anybody at all.’

  ‘But tell me—was this one of your deliberate lies, Elise, thought up just to entertain Llewellyn? When in fact you saw nothing.’

  ‘No, no. It wasn’t a lie. I did see somebody, and divided legs, you know. But everybody wears slacks these days. Oh…you know what I mean.’

  With a little effort, I did. ‘Baggy ones,’ I muttered. But I had to drain every possibility. ‘Elise,’ I said, ‘women walk differently from men. So—from that—could you say whether it was a man or a woman?’

  She frowned in determined concentration. ‘I’d say…a woman. But Philipa—I told you—the sun was in my eyes.’

  ‘Not one of ours?’ I persisted. ‘Our women.’

  ‘Well…no. Not Jennie, I’m sure of that—the way she always swung her hips. Blatant, I always thought. Oh…’ She put a hand to her lips. ‘Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.’

  ‘But you didn’t call out—on the chance…’

  ‘Definitely not. Because if it had been a stranger—how embarrassing!’

  ‘You’re not speaking ill of the dead, Elise,’ I said, desperately trying to keep her on the one subject. ‘We were talking about the person, possibly a woman, who was walking away from you up the cobbled slope.’

  I thought that ought to tie her mind to one subject for a moment. ‘I was speaking ill of the dead, Philipa. And not Jennie. Pam.’

 

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