‘Morton? Hello?’
The voice made Morton sit up with a jerk,spilling some of his latte. Jenny Greenwood was standing in front ofhim. ‘Jenny—hi. So sorry. I was drifting away.’
‘So I see! I was waving and talkingto you but you were on another planet.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late. I expect you’ve seen all what’s going on outthere. It’s like a flippin’ circus.’
‘Yeah, I had noticed,’ Morton said. The scene of the crime had certainly calmed down from yesterday but the churchwas still cordoned off with a small police presence and requisite group ofinterested locals. Later he might tell her about his involvement in themurder but right now he just wanted to hear what Jenny had to say. ‘Wouldyou like a drink at all?’
‘I’ll get it, don’t worry. Would youlike anything?’
‘No, I’m fine with this for now, thankyou.’
As Jenny caught the attention of a passingwaiter, Morton tried to shake his lethargy.
‘Right,’ Jenny said, seeming also to wantto get straight down to business. ‘So you found out that the waywardFrederick Mansfield is actually my grandfather.’
Morton smiled and nodded. Hereally hoped this meeting wasn’t just about her connection to theMansfields. He didn’t interrupt.
‘As I’m sure your detailed research has discovered,he died penniless in 1922, leaving my poor grandmother with a baby to raisealone. He had frittered everything. Family heirlooms,paintings, a valuable Egyptian ceramics collection, jewellery—he either soldit, swapped it or hocked it. But when he died, my grandmother took someconsolation from the fact they at least lived in a comfortable house which shecould sell to buy something smaller and more practical. Then shediscovered that he’d squandered that too. Had he not died, they wouldhave been forced to up and leave within a few weeks anyway to pay his mountainof debts.’
Jenny’s story, much of which Mortonalready knew and didn’t feel the need to transcribe as yet, was interruptedwhen the waiter brought over her Earl Grey.
She thanked him, then continued. ‘That Frederick was not a great husband or father can’t be contested, and Ithink my grandmother and mother were probably better off without him, as awfulas that sounds.’ Jenny paused to pour her tea into the bone-chinacup. ‘The problem lies in the fact that my mother probably was—no certainlywas owed a sizeable fortune in inheritance.’
‘Right,’ Morton said, unsure of where thisconversation was going. ‘But you said Frederick died with debts and nomoney. Did your mother acquire some money after he died?’
Jenny shook her head. ‘No, theinheritance should have come my mother’s way in 1959.’ Jenny stared atMorton, waiting for him to make the connection that she evidently thought heshould be able to make.
Morton racked his brains. The datedid ring a bell, but his brain was swimming with names and dates. It wasobviously a Mansfield-related date, so Morton pushed himself to think throughthe relevant people alive around that time. Then he got it. ‘Wasthat when Cecil Mansfield died?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘You got it!’ Jenny said, seeminglyimpressed.
‘Okay,’ Morton said, trying to connect thedots. ‘So he died in 1959 and the estate passed to his son, GeorgeMansfield.’
‘Exactly.’ She sounded as though heranswer were sufficient.
‘And it shouldn’t have?’ Mortonventured. ‘It should have passed to your mum?’
Jenny looked suspiciously around thetearoom, then nodded.
‘Why?’
Jenny took a moment to answer, suddenlyappearing nervous. ‘You’re going to probably find it a bit of a fancifultale—wishful thinking on my part—but…’ Another pause. ‘Take a look atthis.’ Jenny placed a Next carrier bag on the table and carefullywithdrew a stapled A4 document, which she handed to him.
Morton took the pages from her and beganto read. It was an official document of the British Military—labelledE.504, Militia Attestation for Cecil Mansfield. The first page was astandard admission file for the 3rd Royal Sussex Regiment, notingCecil’s residence at Blackfriars, his age of seventeen years and the answers tovarious closed questions concerning eligibility to join the military. Thefoot of the first page was signed by him and a witness and dated 2ndFebruary 1897. Morton flipped to the second page, already having aninkling as to why Cecil had joined the military at this moment inhistory. The next page was a description of Cecil upon enlistment:
Apparentage: 17 years and 3months
Height: 5 feet 3 inches
Weight: 108lbs
Chest measurement: 32 inches
Complexion: Dark
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Ginger red
Religious denomination: Church of England
Distinctivemarks and marks indicating congenital peculiarities or previous disease: None
Atthe foot of the second page, Cecil was signed as medically fit by a medicalofficer. Morton remained silent, trying not to make a judgement as towhat this form had to do with Mary Mercer, but rather to digest and understandthe historical information that it contained. He flipped over to thethird page, which was entitled ‘A Statement of Services of No.7355 Name: C.Mansfield.’ The sheet noted Cecil’s attestation, embodiment, and finallyhis discharge on the 21st October 1902 for being medicallyunfit. The final page in the document concerned his militaryhistory. As Morton had suspected, Cecil had seen service in South Africain 1901 and St Helena from the 15th June 1901 until 11thSeptember 1902, for which had had been awarded the ‘South Africa Medal &Clasp.’ Under the heading ‘Wounded’, Cecil’s reason for discharge becameclear: ‘Severe G.S. wound to groin.’
‘Initial thoughts?’ Jenny asked when hefinally looked up from the papers.
She really was making him work hard. Morton took a mouthful of drink before answering. ‘Cecil volunteered forthe 3rd Royal Sussex regiment to serve against the South Africans inthe Boer Wars. He was discharged as medically unfit after a gunshot woundto the groin,’ he surmised.
Jenny seemed disappointed. ‘Come on,you can do better than that,’ she said with a smile. ‘You’re a
