that?’
‘’Course I do. We were kids. There was a gang of sorts. It was all a big game to us. Not that anything much ever happened around here.’
‘What about the Messerschmitt crashing?’
Wilf smiled at the memory. ‘Aye, now that was fun. You should have seen us, tiptoeing around it, and when that pilot climbed out… We were off like a shot. Scared the living daylights out of us. A real live German.’
‘He didn’t die in the crash?’
‘No. Funny, you know, the only thing I remember about him is that he looked like my big brother.’
‘What became of him?’
‘No idea. He ran off into the woods. Probably more scared than we were. I suppose they caught him eventually.’
‘Sam said something about a POW camp.’
‘Aye, it was out Reeth way. We used to bicycle out there sometimes and watch them through the fence. There was a bit of fuss between the locals and the military, but guess who usually wins in wartime.’
‘Why the fuss?’
‘Oh, people were worried about escapes and such.’ He laughed. ‘They needn’t have bothered. It was mostly Italians, and they had no desire to go back to the fighting. We got a few Jerries later on, too, and they seemed happy enough to stay there as well. It was hardly Colditz or Stalag 17. I think they lived a pretty good life. Most of the prisoners used to help with the harvest. Some of them ended up marrying local lasses. The Bartolini family still lives up near Marske, and there are Schnells in Grinton. But why the interest?’
‘Nothing, really. Just trying to get a broader picture of the way things were back then. I heard Kilnsgate House was requisitioned by the military for a while?’
‘For a couple of years, yes. It was all very hush-hush, barbed wire, armed guards and all that.’
‘But Ernest Fox still lived there?’
‘I suppose so. I can’t really say I paid much attention to the good doctor’s comings and goings. He was probably well in with them. Typical of him. Nothing he liked better than going around with a smirk on his face as if he knew something nobody else did. Old Foxy had been involved in military matters ever since the first war. Mustard gas and such. His way of doing his bit.’
‘Talking about doing one’s bit, do you remember Nat Bunting, the man who went missing? Sam mentioned him.’
Wilf frowned for a moment, then it dawned on him. ‘Nat. Of course. He was what you’d call a bit slow. Challenged, you’d say, these days, I suppose. Nice enough lad, though. Lived rough, somewhere near Melsonby, as I remember. Did odd jobs. You’d see him walking all over the place with his toolkit slung over his shoulder, like someone out of a Thomas Hardy novel, then one day he was gone.’
‘Anyone ever find out why?’
‘Not as I recall. I’m sure they looked for him, sent out a search party or two, but people didn’t ask too many questions in wartime. The walls have ears and all that. Besides, priorities were different. The individual was rather less important than the state, and the state was the military. We had a country to protect, a war to win.’
‘Sam said he thought this Nat might have joined up.’
‘Well, he did used to go on about it, but I would have thought nobody would have him. He had a gammy leg. Not to mention the… you know. Nat Bunting. Haven’t thought of him in years. Aye, well… I don’t suppose you’ve come to pick my memory about the war?’
‘Not entirely. It’s just interesting, especially to those of us who missed it by a few years. But there are a couple of things I would like to ask you about, if you don’t mind, to clear up some questions I have?’
Wilf crossed his legs. ‘I don’t mind. I can’t promise to be of any use, but I don’t mind.’
‘I’ve been reading the trial account, and it seems that Dr Fox had received a job offer from a hospital near Salisbury around the time he died.’
Wilf scratched the side of his nose. ‘I do remember hearing something about that. I think it was a fairly recent thing, though, hadn’t quite done the gossip circuit before… well, you know. Why? Does it matter?’
‘I think so. The prosecution put it forward as another motive for Grace to get rid of her husband. The job would take him a long way away from Richmond, and therefore take Grace away from Sam. But it seems to me an indication of Sam’s lack of involvement.’
‘Come again.’
‘Sam can’t have known about the job offer. Not if it came as late in the day as it apparently did. He was in Leeds for a while, then up at his parents’ farm over Christmas and New Year. He hadn’t seen or talked to Grace since mid-December, so he couldn’t possibly have known about her moving away until it was raised at the trial.’
‘True,’ said Wilf. ‘But it hardly matters, does it? Sam wasn’t on trial. Grace was.’
‘But it does mean that if Grace killed Ernest, she did it completely off her own bat, so to speak, without even any certain knowledge that Sam would go off with her. He might have been appalled by what she’d done.’
‘Unless they hatched the plan together earlier?’
‘But they didn’t know about the job then, neither of them. It seems to me that’s rather an important point, especially as this job was put forward as one of the major motives, and Hetty Larkin said she’d heard Grace and Ernest arguing about a letter a few days before the dinner. Mrs Compton’s testimony has Sam and Grace talking about getting rid of Ernest in late November, long before there was any letter or hint of a job offer that would split them apart. Don’t you find that a bit strange?’
‘Now that you mention it, I suppose I do,’ said Wilf.
‘The trial account mentions that Grace was seen walking and talking with a young man in uniform on Castle Walk shortly before her husband’s death. Nothing more was ever said about it.’
‘I certainly heard nothing,’ Wilf said, ‘but you have to understand that some people were saying all sorts of things about Grace then, spreading rumours, blackening her character. I should imagine that was part of the campaign. Luckily, none of it got to court.’
‘But there must have been some truth in it, surely? I don’t necessarily agree with anything people might have read into it, but the event itself probably happened. It could be relevant. I don’t believe that whoever she was talking to was a lover or anything like that, but the meeting itself could have been important to Grace’s state of mind, even a trigger for her subsequent actions. Surely the police must have followed up on it? Who was he? What were they talking about?’
‘The police?’ Wilf snorted. ‘They already had their minds made up, and they were probably no different then than they are today. They decided Grace had done it, and that was that as far as they were concerned. Whatever evidence fitted that theory went in, whatever didn’t, they ignored. And once the ball got rolling, it wasn’t too hard to get people to speak against her. These things have a habit of snowballing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I hated that vicious, mean-spirited, holier-than-thou attitude all this business stirred up, the hypocrisy, the things some people said, even people who were supposed to have been her friends. It brought out the worst in some people. And Alice Lambert was no better than the rest.’
‘Alice? What did she say?’
‘Oh, she didn’t say anything in court, she stuck to the facts there, appeared for the defence, for her friend, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but word soon got around about the Foxes having separate bedrooms and Grace being a bit cold hearted towards her husband. Alice always did have a soft spot for Ernest Fox. It was him she met first, you know, not Grace. They were old friends. And then she goes telling everyone she’d always thought Grace was a bit too free and easy in her manner with the opposite sex, especially younger men, that sort of thing. Innuendo, fuel for the fire they wanted to burn Grace on.’
‘Is this true about Alice Lambert and Ernest Fox?’
‘That she had a soft spot for him?’
‘Yes.’
‘You could see it clearly when you saw them together. Like you and that estate agent woman.’
I almost choked on my tea. ‘What? Heather? How do you… I mean…?’
Wilf laughed. ‘Oh, don’t get so flustered. You look like a schoolboy caught with his hand over the tuck shop counter. I’ve seen you chatting in the market square once or twice, that’s all. The body language. I’ve told you what
