The Iron Horse

hands with the vicar and made complimentary remarks about the service before moving out into the porch. Most of the others had drifted away but they lingered in the churchyard.

‘Wait for her here,’ said Colbeck. ‘She stayed behind for some words of comfort from the vicar.’

‘Where will you be, Robert?’

‘In the trap – I’d only be in the way.’

‘Suppose that she won’t speak to me?’

‘I think she’ll be grateful for sympathy from anyone.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Madeleine.

He touched her arm. ‘That’s why I brought you.’

Putting on his hat, he went out through the lychgate and took up his position in the trap. Madeleine, meanwhile, read some of the inscriptions chiselled into the stone and let her thoughts turn to the death of her mother. It had been so sudden and unexpected that it had left her father in a daze for weeks. Though trying to cope with her own bereavement, Madeleine had also had to help him through his despair. It had forged a strong bond between father and daughter. As she read some of the elaborate and sentimental epitaphs, she remembered the simplicity of the inscription on her mother’s tombstone and wished that these neglected graves could be tended with as much loving care as she and her father always showed.

It was some time before Bonny Rimmer came out of the church. When she did so, her head was down and she clutched a prayer book in her hand. Madeleine stepped back onto the path to intercept her.

‘Miss Rimmer?’ she began.

‘Oh!’ cried Bonny.

She looked up in dismay as if someone had just bumped into her. Madeleine saw the oval face, drained of colour and framed by the black bonnet. The girl had been crying and there were dark patches beneath her eyes. She was patently bewildered.

‘My name is Madeleine Andrews,’ said the other, ‘and I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences. I know that you’ve suffered a terrible loss and I’m sorry to intrude on your grief.’

‘You knew John?’

‘No, but I’m aware of what happened to him. I’m a friend of Inspector Colbeck’s. He told me what had happened.’

‘He was kind,’ murmured Bonny.

‘I wonder if I might talk to you for a moment?’

The girl’s face was blank. ‘Talk?’

‘About your friendship with John Feeny.’

‘He was a wonderful person, Miss Andrews.’

Madeleine gave a gentle smile. ‘Tell me about him.’

Taking her by the elbow, she led Bonny across to a wooden bench that had been stained by age and autographed by youthful parishioners with sharp knives. They sat down together. Bonny gazed at her with a curiosity tempered by anxiety.

‘What do you want?’ she said.

‘I want to do all I can to help the police catch the man who killed your friend. I’m sure that you want to do the same.’

‘Yes, yes, I do.’

‘Then talk to me about John.’

Bonny was lost. ‘What am I to say?’

‘Tell me how you first met him.’

The barmaid began slowly, stopping from time to time as the pain of recollection became too acute. Madeleine said nothing, sharing her anguish, offering solace, acting as a silent and uncritical witness. The tale eventually gathered pace. Bonny had met John Feeny when he came to the inn with a group of other lads from the stables. He had seemed quieter and more thoughtful than the others. While they had flirted with her, Feeny stood shyly on the side and watched.

Then the day came when one of the grooms tried to molest her. He was very drunk and the others had egged him on. He caught Bonny in the yard at the rear of the inn and pounced on her. John Feeny was the only person who responded to her scream. Rushing out of the bar, he tore her attacker off and flung him to the ground. A fierce struggle ensued. The other groom was bigger and older than Feeny but that made no difference. The Irish lad was so incensed that Bonny had been assaulted that he fought like a demon and put his opponent to flight. Full of gratitude, the barmaid had washed the blood from Feeny’s face.

‘So he wasn’t quiet all the time,’ she said softly. ‘John had a real temper. He never turned it on me but it was there. He wasn’t afraid of getting hurt – that’s why he’d have made a good jockey. And he was so brave, Miss Andrews.’

‘Brave?’

‘Yes,’ replied Bonny. ‘Do you know how he came to England?’

‘On a boat, I suppose.’

‘But he had no money for the passage. John had a row with Mr Dowd – that’s the man who owned the stables – and walked out. John was so keen to get to this country that he sneaked aboard a boat and hid under a tarpaulin.’ She smiled for the first time. ‘Now isn’t that brave?’

‘Brave but foolhardy.’

‘That’s what John was like. He took chances. When the boat was a mile or so away from Anglesey, they caught him. Do you know what the captain told him? He said that if John was that keen to get here, he could swim. So they threw him overboard.’

Madeleine was shocked. ‘He might have drowned.’

‘Not him,’ said Bonny. ‘He swam ashore and dried himself off. Then he made his way to London by walking and begging lifts off carters. At long last, he found his uncle and started to look for work. Weeks and weeks later, he got a job at the stables down here.’

‘And he met you.’

‘Yes – we made so many plans together.’

‘Plans?’ repeated Madeleine.

‘For when he became a jockey,’ explained Bonny. ‘John said he’d make enough money to look after me. I wouldn’t have to work at the inn any more. He wanted me all to himself.’

Madeleine was deeply moved by the tenderness with which she spoke of John Feeny and she learnt far more about the groom than Colbeck had done when he spoke to Bonny Rimmer. The presence of another woman had unlocked memories that the girl would otherwise have kept to herself. Uncertain at first, she was now eager to talk about her relationship and the facts tumbled out. She talked of secret meetings, bold ambitions and an exchange of vows. Bonny and the young Irishman had decided to get married one day.

‘Who could possibly have wanted to hurt him?’ said Madeleine.

‘Nobody – he was the kindest person I ever met.’

‘What about the groom who had a fight with John?’

‘Oh, he was sacked a long time ago.’

‘He could have come back to get his revenge.’

‘He’d never do a thing like that.’

‘You told Inspector Colbeck about a man that John had met.’

‘A real gentleman, he was,’ said Bonny, ‘or so John thought at first. He wanted information about Limerick Lad – that’s one of the runners in the Derby. He offered him money but John refused. The man wasn’t so friendly then – he threatened John.’

‘So I understand.’

‘He had no choice, Miss Andrews,’ said Bonny defensively. ‘If it was known that he’d worked for Mr Dowd, he’d have been kicked out of the stables. They’d have thought he was a spy.’

‘Instead of which,’ noted Madeleine, seeing the irony of the situation, ‘he was being asked to spy on Mr Dowd himself.’

‘John was helping to look after Mr Hamilton’s horse, Merry Legs, but the man wasn’t worried about her in the Derby. All he wanted to hear about was Limerick Lad.’