'Mrs Pennel, Louise was murdered.'
No reaction.
'Are you related to her?'
No reaction.
Anna tapped the ringed hand. 'Mrs Pennel, can you hear me?'
The mascara-ed eyes fluttered.
'It has been in all the papers. Could you look at this photograph and tell me if you know this girl?'
Anna held the photograph out. 'This is Louise Pennel.' Mrs Pennel sat up, searched for some glasses, and then stared at the photograph.
'Who is this?' she asked.
'Louise Pennel,' Anna said again, loudly.
'Is it Raymond's daughter?'
'Who is Raymond?'
'My son; that's him over there.'
Mrs Pennel pointed to a row of photographs. There were various pictures of Florence in theatrical costumes and two of a young dark-haired man in military uniform who Anna recognised from Louise's album.
'Is this your son?'
'He married a terrible woman, a hairdresser; he died of a burst appendix and if she had got a brain she would have called an ambulance, but she let him die. I would have helped out if I'd known they were in financial trouble, but she wouldn't even speak to me. Heather, her name was; Heather.'
Anna sat down and showed the photograph to Mrs Pennel again. 'Did Louise ever come to see you?'
Mrs Pennel plucked at her jacket and turned away. 'My son was a foolish boy, but if he'd asked for help, I'd have forgiven him.'
Anna was becoming impatient. She leaned forwards and spoke loudly. 'Mrs Pennel, I am here because I am investigating the murder of Louise Pennel. I need to know if she came here and if so, whether someone was with her.'
'Yes!' the old lady snapped. I m sorry?
'I said yes. Yes, yes, yes. My son I would have helped, but not that woman, with her bleached hair and her common voice and cheap perfume. She was to blame; it was her fault he died.'
Anna stood up. 'Mrs Pennel, your granddaughter is dead. I am not here about your son or your daughter-in- law, but about Louise Pennel. I just want to know if she came here and if anyone accompanied her.'
Mrs Pennel closed her eyes; her hands were drawn into fists, her lips tight. 'I said if he married her I would disinherit him, cut him off without a penny, and he spat at me. My own son; he spat at me. If his father had been alive, he wouldn't have dared do that; he would not have dared marry that whore. I nearly died carrying him; I had a terrible time. I was in hospital for weeks after his birth. I only ever wanted what was best for him; I spoilt him, gave him anything he wanted but he just walked out. He chose that terrible woman over me.'
Anna stood up; there was no way she could break into the stream of vitriol that spewed out of the old lady's painted lips. She didn't even appear to have noticed that Anna was picking up her coat, ready to leave. She stared straight ahead into the electric fire, her hands clenched.
Anna headed down the stairs, and she could still hear Mrs Pennel as she continued to berate her dead son, her voice echoing down.
'Twenty-six years old, his whole life ahead of him and she came and destroyed everything. I loved my son; I would have given him everything I have. He knew that; he knew I adored him, but he chose that bitch!'
Mrs Hughes appeared at the kitchen door. She looked up the stairs, then back to Anna. 'She can keep going for hours until she's exhausted, then she just sleeps. Did you want to know about Raymond? I should have warned you not to bring up his name if you didn't. She's like a broken record!'
'Could I just have a few words with you?' Anna asked.
The kitchen was as tired and old-fashioned as the rest of the house. Mrs Hughes put the kettle on and turned to Anna. 'She's ninety-four; she's been dying for the last twenty years, but hangs on as if she's afraid to let go. I think it's the fury that keeps her alive. She doesn't even want to watch TV, or listen to the radio. She just lies up there in her own world. She sometimes looks through her photograph albums, her days when she was an actress, before she married the Major. He died twenty-odd years ago; everyone she knew is dead.'
'Did you know her son?'
'Not really. By the time I came, he'd left; they had this fight about the girl he wanted to marry. Mrs Pennel cut him off, and he never came back.'
Anna nodded. 'I am here because a girl called Louise Pennel has been murdered; she had a suitcase with this address.'
'That might be her granddaughter; I think one of her names was Louise. Mary Louise?'
Anna took a deep breath; at last she was able to ask the questions she needed answering. She took out Louise's photograph. 'Is this her?'
Mrs Hughes looked at the photograph.
'Yes. I only met her once. She's murdered?'
'She came here? To Harwood House?'
'Yes, about eight or nine months ago. She's been murdered?'
'Yes; it has had extensive news coverage.'
'We don't get the newspapers; she likes the glossy magazines.'
'Is there any way you could recall the exact date Louise came here?'
Mrs Hughes pursed her lips, then went to a cabinet and opened a drawer. She took out a large calendar, evidently a freebie from an estate agent. She began flicking through it, licking her fingertips as she turned over month by month of elegant houses.
'It was last May, the sixteenth; nearly nine months ago now.'
'Thank you, that's terrific. Is Mrs Pennel very wealthy?'
'Yes; well, worth a few hundred thousand, then there's this house and she has some nice jewellery. She has a solicitor who comes round a lot to check on the running of the house. My wages and the bills are paid direct. I think he suggested she move into a home, but she won't have it. She just lives up there; never comes down here, hasn't for years.' She sighed, shaking her head. 'Murdered; that's terrible.'
Anna did not want to get into the details of the murder. She concentrated on her notebook. 'Do you live in?'
'Yes, I've got a room next to hers, in case she needs me at night.'
Mrs Hughes set down the tea tray and poured from a small dented teapot. 'Place is going to rack and ruin, but she won't spend a penny on doing anything; well, I suppose at ninety-four, why bother?'
'Did Mrs Pennel talk to Louise when she was here?'
'No, the old girl was very poorly with the flu; I never thought she'd get over it, but she did. Louise just turned up on the doorstep.'
'So you had never met her before?'
'I knew there was a granddaughter, but the old lady would have nothing to do with her; I didn't even know her name. I said for her to come back and I told Florence she'd called round, but she said if she came again, not to let her in.'
'Did she say why she had turned up?'
Mrs Hughes dipped a biscuit into her tea. 'She needed some money. She said she had a good job opportunity and wanted to buy a new coat. It was strange, you know, never having seen her before; to be honest, I did think she was a bit desperate. She said this job was very important.'
'Did she tell you anything about it?'
'Not really; she said it was going to take her abroad and she would have to get a passport; sounded too good to be true to me. I think she answered an advert in the paper for a PA to someone wealthy. She'd sent a letter and got a reply asking to meet her, so she wanted some new clothes. She needed shoes as well: she had these worn old things on, very down at heel they were.'
'Was anyone with her?'
'No, she'd come on the train from London. She said she was renting a room in a hostel; where, she didn't say,
