[Mrs Bradley 45] - A Hearse on May Day

were not husband and wife but brother and sister. The owner of the property, which was a charming old house in a smallish, well-wooded park a couple of miles outside the town, was a middle-aged widower for whom his older sister kept house. They were informal in manner and in outlook, and Fenella had always got on well with both of them. They were related to her on her mother’s side and their name was Cromleigh. Her mother had been the youngest of a well-spaced family, and the cousins were the children of her mother’s eldest brother, so that Fenella sometimes felt (and they invariably did) as though they were more like uncle and aunt to her than cousins.

She was as eager to relate her adventures as they were to hear them, so as soon as she had finished her tea and had been shown her room, the three of them settled down to a recitation of the tale which began with the story of the détour and then of the hold-up when Fenella found that she could not get away from the inn after lunch on Mayering Eve.

‘And you still don’t know what went wrong with the car?’ asked Hubert Cromleigh. ‘What does it say on the bill? – or haven’t you bothered to read it?’

‘No, I haven’t. I don’t suppose it would mean very much to me, anyway. I simply paid the man what he asked and was thankful to get on the road again. My own idea is that somebody tampered with the car, and the man said I ought to have locked it, but I always do. It’s automatic with me to turn the key and then test all four doors before I leave. It wasn’t as though I was in any desperate hurry, either, or anything like that.’

‘Perhaps the hotel needed custom,’ suggested Miriam Cromleigh, ‘and were determined to make certain that you stayed for dinner and at least one night.’

‘I don’t think the place is anything more than a big pub,’ said Fenella. ‘I don’t believe they usually put people up. The bedroom they gave me was miles from anywhere, and I didn’t see signs of any other accommodation for guests. There wasn’t even a dining-room. I started off with a snack lunch in the saloon bar, and after that I had my dinner – such as it was – in my room and this morning’s breakfast in the so-called lounge. I lunched there again before I came away.’

She gave them an account of her invasion of the lounge while it was in possession of the signs of the zodiac, and followed it with the tale of the rest of her strange experiences. The only incident she left out was her meeting with the young man on Mayering Eve and her May-Day encounter with the same man as Jack-in-the-Green. Why she felt unwilling to refer to these she did not know at the time, although it became plain enough to her later on.

‘Well,’ said Miriam, when they had listened with interest and appreciation to the extraordinary story, ‘now I’m afraid it’s our turn for some news.’ She glanced at her brother.

‘Better not to beat about the bush,’ he said. ‘The fact is, Fenella, my dear, that we have to postpone your wedding.’

‘Postpone it?’ she said. ‘Why? What has happened?’

‘What has happened is that Talbot has contracted to go abroad on his firm’s business and does not expect to be back for another fortnight,’ said Miriam grimly.

‘So that’s why he hasn’t written, the coward!’ Fenella exclaimed. ‘What a thing to do, to go off like that at the last minute! Oh, Miriam! And you’ve made all the arrangements! I’m terribly sorry! What a wretch he is! He’s his own master, though. He wasn’t compelled to go, was he?’

‘Of course he wasn’t! But no need to be sorry for me, my dear. It’s quite the other way about. We can’t imagine anything more frustrating than having one’s marriage postponed. Now, look, Fenella, we want you to stay on here, and notify your own friends of the postponement. We’ve let everybody else know. What do you think? It’s quite ridiculous for you to go all the way back to your flat and then come here again for the wedding.’

‘But it’s such an upset for you.’

‘Nonsense. We’ve been looking forward to your visit and are delighted to have it extended,’ said Hubert.

‘Although, of course, we’re sorry about the reason,’ said Miriam. ‘It’s sickening for you to have the thing put off when you were all keyed up to go through with it.’

Fenella looked at her, suddenly enlightened.

‘Why do you put it like that?’ she asked, with a deep flush of embarrassed comprehension crimsoning her neck and cheeks.

‘I must apologise for Miriam,’ said her brother, laughing. ‘John Blunt – Joanna Blunt in this case – is dreadfully apt to call a spade a damned shovel. Pass off her ill-considered remarks in tactful silence, my dear Fenella, for, believe me, they will not abide your question.’

‘But I must question them,’ said Fenella wildly. ‘I must ask her to explain what she means.’

‘What I mean,’ said Miriam, ‘as you have a perfect right to know, is that I have never been in favour of this marriage. It was a put-up job, in the first place, by your father and Talbot’s mother. I don’t suppose you knew it, but, in their young days, they were in love with one another. I don’t know what happened, but the marriage didn’t take place and each of them married somebody else. However, they kept in touch and the two families were on friendly terms, and when you and Talbot were both youngsters there was this thing that you and he should marry. Of course, there was no suggestion that pressure should be brought to bear on either of you. That would be unthinkable in this day and age. They simply saw to it that conditions were right, that’s all, and I suppose propinquity and common