she was sulking.
Gwen put down her cup and went out, patting Gracie quickly on the arm as she passed.
Gracie sipped her tea again, without really tasting it. It was time she ran the water for Charlotte. She would probably have to take up enough for Pitt too. Don’t suppose Tellman would think of that.
Her tea was too hot to hurry. She was still only halfway through when the door opened and Tellman came in. He looked terrible, as if he had been up half the night, and had nightmares the little he had been in his bed. At another time she might have been sorry for him, now she was too consumed with her own hurt.
“D’yer want some tea?” she offered, indicating the pot. “It’s fresh. And yer look like summink the cat brought in.”
“I feel like it,” Tellman replied, going to the teapot. “I was up until heaven knows when.” He looked as if he had been about to add something more, than changed his mind abruptly.
“Wot for?” she asked, passing him the milk. “Yer ill?”
“No,” he replied, looking away from her.
In spite of her own absorption in misery, she was aware that something must have happened. Perhaps it was to do with Finn. She had to ask.
“Why were yer up, then? Did summink ’appen?”
He looked at her closely, searching her face, then made his decision. “Mr. Pitt was up too. We were just trying to solve the case, that’s all.”
“And did yer?”
“No, not yet.”
“Oh.” She did not want to know any more about Finn. She was afraid of what it would be, so afraid her stomach knotted up in misery, but she also desperately wanted Pitt to win, he must! That was her first loyalty. That was the deciding thing which had driven her to tell him about the dynamite. She would rather not talk about it at all. She would rather not even have been there. But she had no choice; really, no one ever did have, unless they were going to run away altogether.
“I gotter get the water,” she said, finishing the last of her tea. It was cool enough now. “Mrs. Pitt’ll be gettin’ up.”
“I doubt it,” he replied. “She was probably woken when Mr. Pitt went to bed. I expect she’ll want to sleep in.”
“P’r’aps, but I’d better see.” She did not want to stay there with Tellman, of all people. She started towards the door.
“Gracie …”
She could not just ignore him. “Yeah?” she said without turning.
“Whoever killed Mr. Greville was the kind of person who’s used to killing people. It wasn’t done out of passion, or self-defense, or revenge or anything like that. I mean … I mean, if it had been Doll Evans, or Mrs. Greville, or someone like that, you could understand it. It’d still be wrong, of course, but you could understand it.”
She turned around slowly. “It weren’t Doll, I know that, ’cos I saw ’oo done it. She weren’t as tall as Doll. It were Mrs. Greville or Mrs. McGinley, I reckon.”
“No, it wasn’t,” he said, his face tight with emotion, his eyes steady on her. “The woman you saw tried to kill him, but he was already dead. She didn’t know that, but his neck was broken. That’s what we found out last night.”
“Broken? How d’yer know that?”
“You don’t want to hear that And don’t you go saying anything to anyone, do you understand? That’s confidential police business. It’s a secret. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Why did yer?”
“I …” he hesitated, looking unhappy. “Gracie … I … I hate to see you hurt like this.” He was acutely uncomfortable, there was a flush on his hollow cheeks, but he would not stop now he had begun. “But I thought it might help to know that whoever killed Mr. Greville was professional at it. You don’t just kill someone that easily, with one blow, if you’ve had no practice.” He was more wretched by the moment. “I daresay they think what they’re doing is right, but it isn’t right by any of the sort of things we believe in. You can’t get freedom for people by murdering other people just because you think they stand in your way. What kind of a person does that make you?”
What he said was true. In her heart she already knew it. It had been a glimmer, like a door opening, the minute she saw the dynamite. It had been growing wider, more certain since then. She had not lost something real, she had only lost a dream. But dreams can matter very much, and it was too soon to feel anything but pain.
“Yeah, I know,” she conceded, not looking at him. “I gotter take the water up all the same.”
“Gracie!”
“What?”
“I wish … I wish I could make you feel better ….”
She looked at him standing by the table, awkward, so tired he looked hollow-eyed. He was lantern-jawed. No one could have called him handsome, or even charming, but there weis a tenderness in him which startled her. Had it not been so obvious, she would not have believed it, but he cared for her, it was there, naked in his face.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah, I reckon you would. It’s nice of you. I … I gotter take the water. She might be awake any’ow.”
“I’ll carry it,” he offered. “It’s heavy.”
