small towns are like. I’d watch it, if I were you.’
‘We’re just friends. She helped me get set up at Kilnsgate.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘If you say so.’
‘Oh, knock it off, Wilf. Was there anything in it, Alice Lambert and Ernest Fox?’
‘Like what?’
‘You know what I’m getting at. Were they having an affair? Did Alice’s husband know?’
‘Surely you’re not…? Not Alice Lambert?’
‘I was thinking more of Jeremy Lambert.’
‘Jeremy Lambert? You must be joking. He wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’
‘You knew him?’
‘Of course. He was the local schools inspector, even after I started teaching. Nice, cushy job in those days. Maybe not so much now, if they still have them. You’d be likely to risk getting knifed or shot. But Jeremy Lambert, a murderer?’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t see it.’
‘Alice?’
‘Look at your own reasoning, and you’ll find she doesn’t have a motive.’
‘Sometimes it takes a lot of digging to uncover a motive.’
‘Even so…’
‘Everyone focused on Grace and her affair with Sam. But what about Ernest Fox? He must have had plenty of opportunities to put it about. Were there any rumours? Anything about him bedding any of the lovely ladies of Swaledale?’
‘Not as I recall. At least, I never heard owt about him chasing women. But he was away a lot. I mean, he could have got up to anything then, couldn’t he?’
‘I thought he was supposed to be a local GP?’
‘He was, but he did a lot of consulting. Travelled a lot. To be honest, during the war and after, Dr Nelson carried the practice.’
‘Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted Ernest Fox dead?’
‘Plenty. But none of them were at Kilnsgate House on the night he died.’
‘What was Dr Nelson like?’
‘Cliff Nelson? He was a steady, dependable, dedicated sort, a bit dull, if truth be told. But he was a gentleman, and full of common sense. Lived down by the green. As I said, he practically carried the practice through the war, and after, for that matter. You never saw his wife Mary much. She worked behind the scenes, doing the books, keeping house, taking care of the kids.’
‘They had children?’
‘Three boys.’
‘There were no rumours, no gossip?’
‘Dr Fox and Mary? No. I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree there.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time. What about Grace and Dr Nelson?’
‘What about them?’
‘Their relationship.’
‘They got on well, as far as I know. Cliff used to play piano a little, too, so he and Grace had that musical connection. They were friends. I think she also felt she could talk to him. He and her husband weren’t always on the best of terms.’
‘Why not?’
‘I should think because most of the burden fell on Cliff Nelson’s shoulders. One thing,’ Wilf went on, ‘I don’t know if it would have made any difference, but Dr Nelson told me not long after the whole business that he had offered to appear as a character reference for Grace at her trial. He was convinced she was innocent.’
‘What happened?’
‘He was told that the defence didn’t plan on using any men as character witnesses. That it wouldn’t look good.’
‘I suppose they had a point. Did Grace actually have many female friends?’
‘Not as I recall. There was Alice, and Mary, I suppose, and one or two ladies from the Operatic Society. But she was more of a man’s woman – and I don’t mean that in a bad way.’
‘Was she really as free and easy as people said?’
‘Free and easy? Depends what you mean, and how you construe it. Grace didn’t walk around town with her nose stuck in the air like some, and maybe as some would have expected from a doctor’s wife. Like I said, she’d even pass the time of day with the likes of me at a subscription concert, while the rest of them ignored anyone they felt beneath their social standing. I’m not saying Grace wasn’t a snob in some ways – she certainly appreciated her place in society – but not when it came to people. She had a big heart. She’d help anyone, talk to anyone. If that’s free and easy.’
‘Sleep with anyone?’
‘No. It was nothing but scurrilous nonsense,’ Wilf said indignantly. ‘A load of bollocks. Grace Fox was not a whore. She may have been many things, including an adulteress and a murderer, but she was not a whore. Grace and Sam had an affair, OK, but that wasn’t a symptom of bad character. He wasn’t a notch on her bedpost. They were in love, for crying out loud.’
‘Did you ever have an affair with Grace, Wilf?’
‘Me? Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Were you in love with her?’
Wilf turned away and fell silent. He grimaced and put his hand to his stomach. ‘Thanks for the Guinness,’ he said, ‘but I think you’d better leave now. I’m feeling a bit poorly.’
Well done, Lowndes, I said to myself on the way out. Now you’ve managed to piss off one of the only two people you’ve met who actually knew Grace Fox.
13
Extract from the journal of Grace Elizabeth Fox (ed. Louise King), July-August, 1940. Liverpool and at sea
Monday, 29th July, 1940 Well, here I am, at sea finally, heading Lord knows where. I set off from the training hospital in Netley under cover of darkness two days ago, after being woken and told to pack in the middle of the night. We arrived in Liverpool late the following morning. I was billeted in a terrible hotel near the docks, sharing with a girl called Kathleen, whom I had met during training. Kathleen is a statuesque blonde, very beautiful, but somewhat austere. I have already heard one of the officers call her an ‘ice maiden’, which I do not think fair. She has a terrific sense of humour and a most startling laugh, rather like the braying of a horse. The hotel was so bad that we had to wedge a chair under our door handle every night to keep out the sailors who thought we were there for their pleasure. We could not get a wink of sleep, but we did laugh a lot. This afternoon we boarded the Empress of Australia, a luxury ocean liner converted into a troop carrier. Luckily for us, the luxury has not all been stripped away, like the fine china and crystal, to be stored safely until the end of the war. I am to share a first-class cabin with Brenda, another girl I met during training. Brenda is a great deal more untidy than I am, and it will be a hard task to get her to pick her clothes up from the floor and chairs and keep her toiletries from spreading all over the bathroom. Brenda and Kathleen and my other friend, Doris, are all single, and they seemed most surprised to hear that I am married, and that I would leave my husband to go to war. I told them that if the men could leave their wives at home, then I could leave my husband. What use would I be back there, anyway, buried in the Yorkshire countryside, when it is out here that men are dying and there are lives to be saved? Besides, I know that Hetty will take good care of Ernest. There are fifty-five sisters on board and Lord knows how many officers and serving men. Lots of the sisters are thrilled at the prospect of all these handsome young men paying them attention. There will be dances, dinners and romance, no doubt. Matron has already singled me out and has given me a stern talking to. I am to be the responsible one. I am to set an example. I am to keep my eye on some of the flightier, more wayward girls and direct them away from any foolish courses of action they might consider in the heat of shipboard
