‘So the service was at five – what time did they go home? Did George go with them?’
Lake looked up at the sky through the gaps in the wood above. ‘It was all over in twenty minutes. I went back to the vicarage and I saw them leave about half past five – I know it was then because we had a little party planned at the vicarage and that’s when people started arriving. And yes, I think George Tudor went back with them.’
‘Did you see Kathryn again?’
‘No. But I went down to Neate’s Garage later – about eight.’
‘Why?’
‘Before the burial service Kathryn had asked a favour. She wanted to get into Peterborough the next morning and asked if we’d give her a lift. She didn’t say but I know her social worker was there and she’d been in before, when she was pregnant. As I say, I didn’t ask, but the fact that she didn’t explain suggests that was where she was going. I don’t think the family approved of the social worker, of any outsider really, getting involved in the family’s business. The Neates were going straight to the new garage the next morning, so she was stuck.’
‘So you gave her a lift?’
‘I said yes at the time but then we decided, later on, that we’d drive up that night and leave the removal men to load up in peace the following morning. So I went down to say that perhaps they would take her if I had a word – but she’d have to get up to the vicarage by nine or they’d probably be off – we’d packed all the crates, you see, and we didn’t have a lot of furniture of our own. A lot of the church’s stuff had been sold at an auction in the village the week before – that’s what a lot of people did.
‘Anyway, I had to let her know that the arrangements had changed and she’d have to try her luck.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing. She wasn’t in. Jimmy answered the door and we went into the kitchen. George was still there and they’d been drinking, there was a half-drunk bottle of whisky on the table. Walter was upstairs, they said, sleeping it off. I just told them to give her the message, that I couldn’t help with the lift.’
‘What was the atmosphere like? You said they’d argued in the church.’
Lake shrugged. ‘Like I said, George was family really so I guess they’d cleared the air.’
‘And that was it?’
‘That was it. I thought about going into the village to try and find her but it was late by then and dusk was falling. I could see lights down on The Dring where the dance was on, people out in the street, music. The last thing young people want to see when they’re enjoying themselves is a dog collar.’
Dryden nodded. ‘Did you see anyone else that night, before you left?’
‘A few. As I said, we had this little party, well a few drinks, for the sidesmen, the organist, the women who helped with the old people’s club, and the ringers, of course – those that were left and still sober. And my wife went down to the almshouses to bring Joyce Crane up – she was ninety then. We would have brought the others up, the men, but they were already in the inn. Free beer, you see. Our invitation was not the first on the list of attractions.’
Dryden nodded.
Lake raised a finger to his lips. ‘And Magda.’
‘Magda Hollingsworth?’ Dryden could see her now, bent over her diary, setting down the story of the girl who’d threatened to kill her baby.
‘Yes. I remember because I told the police, when they got in contact later after they found she was missing. I said she’d had problems with depression and suchlike but that I never thought she’d harm herself. But I saw her that last night, yes, walking out along Church Street, out of the village, towards Telegraph Hill. That was later – just before eight, just before I went down to the garage.’
‘Was that unusual, to see her out there?’
‘No. Magda was a great walker, which caused a bit of a scandal – I mean talk about narrow-minded. They said it was gypsy blood, that she couldn’t bear to be inside a house for long. Rubbish! That woman loved her home. I think it was losing it that broke her. She’d often go up there and sit by the water tower with a book – another dangerous eccentricity in Fen eyes, I’m afraid. My wife liked her, said she really cared about the place, the village community. But she was a bit much for most people – ankle bracelets, that kind of thing. They thought of her as a gypsy. And you couldn’t say a lot worse than that in Jude’s Ferry.’
Lake held up a hand, aware he’d gone too far. ‘She had friends in the village, good friends. Not everyone tried to cast her out. Bob Steward – one of our churchwardens – used to work for the water board, it was his job to check the tower every week and the water quality. He’d often find her up there on the grass, enjoying the solitude. I told her once that if she really wanted peace and serenity she could always sit in the church.’ He laughed. ‘Didn’t work.’
Suddenly there was a wave of screaming from the surf and they both stirred, as if wakened from a sleep. Dryden switched tack. ‘And Peter Tholy – he was a friend of George, wasn’t he? Did you help him with his immigration request?’
‘Yes. I was amazed he did that, a lot of people were.’
‘Why?’
‘Just so timid. He was eighteen then, perhaps nineteen, and I really don’t think he’d been out of the village but to go to school. But I guess he trusted George, and there was nothing for him here. I did warn him, you know. I said I was an immigrant too and it wasn’t all bold new horizons.’
Dryden nodded. ‘Nobody else in his life?’
Lake shook his head. ‘I knew the family actually, going back a couple of years – his mother went out first to Australia after she remarried. Callous woman, she wanted a new life and I don’t think she was particularly bothered if Peter followed her out or not. And there was Broderick, Colonel Broderick, he’d given Peter work and was genuinely concerned for his future I think. A glowing testimonial and references certainly – even if he was a bitter
