‘Well, when I got to that compartment, the “Do Not Disturb”
notice was hanging on the door so I just knocked and told them to hurry up, then I went on to the next one.’
‘How did you know there was someone in there? Wasn’t it more likely that the notice had just been left on the door?’
‘I could hear someone moving about.’ Tommy looked down, embarrassed. ‘I thought they were having a bit of . . . well, you 25
know. So I left them to get themselves sorted out and came back a couple of minutes later, after I’d heard someone shut the door and leave.’
‘Exactly what did you hear inside the compartment?’
‘Just a bit of shuffling.’ He looked up at Penrose, suddenly more aggressive. ‘You don’t think I’d have left her if I’d known what was going on, do you? How was I supposed to guess that there was a bleeding psychopath on board?’
So that was why the boy was so defensive. It wasn’t just shock at discovering a body that had so affected him, but the realisation of how close he had come to the murder and a sense of guilt at having failed to stop it. Penrose continued more gently.
‘What did you see when you first went into the compartment?’
‘It was nearly dark because the blinds were down, but I could see someone was still in there. I thought they must be asleep, so I went over and lifted the blind at the window. When I turned round, I saw the girl, and some funny dolls on the other seat.’
‘How long were you in there?’
‘It can only have been a minute or two but it felt like ages. I wouldn’t have stayed that long but I suddenly thought – what if whoever did it was still about? Then that flower fell off the seat and I just legged it. It sounds stupid, I know, but I couldn’t bear it any longer.’
‘Did you touch anything?’
‘Only the blind when I first went in. It was too dark to tidy up, you see.’
‘And the women Miss Simmons was talking to – did you recognise them from the train?’
‘One of them, the taller one with the dark hair and the smart suit. She’d been on since Edinburgh and they had lunch together in the restaurant car. Spent a lot of time talking, they did.’
‘So they seemed to know each other well?’
‘I don’t know about that, but they were definitely getting on like a house on fire.’
‘What about the other woman?’
‘I don’t think I’d seen her before, but there are a lot of meals 26
served on that journey – I might not have noticed. But she certainly wasn’t eating with the other two.’
‘What did she look like?’
‘Nice-looking, I suppose, for her age – she must have been in her forties. Long hair, but that’s about all I remember.’
Penrose had heard enough to confirm that Elspeth’s companions matched the signatures in her magazine. ‘Were they still with Miss Simmons when she got back on the train?’ he asked, trying to keep the sinking feeling out of his voice.
‘I told you – I don’t know. They’d all disappeared by the time I looked again and I just assumed they’d left. I didn’t see anybody get back on, but you know what it’s like when there’s people getting off and luggage everywhere – it’s far too busy to keep an eye on everything that’s going on.’
‘All right, we’ll let it go now but it’s vital that you don’t tell anyone what you saw in the train – do you understand?’ he asked sternly, without any real hope of his words being heeded. The boy was bound to talk to someone because, as Penrose knew from his own experience, there was nothing worse than the twisted intimacy of being the first to look upon a dead body. The loneliness of it was unbearable.
Maybrick re-entered the room and gave a brief nod. ‘Well Tommy,’ Penrose said, ‘it looks like your Ivy might be keener than you thought. She’s confirmed what you’ve told us, so tell the Constable where we can get hold of you if we need to and you can be on your way. Better not keep the girl waiting any longer but remember what I said – no details to anyone.’
‘To be honest, I haven’t really got the stomach for courting now,’ Tommy said despondently as Maybrick handed him a pencil to write down his address, ‘but I suppose I shouldn’t disappoint her.’
As Penrose left the waiting room to look for his sergeant, he saw Fallowfield already approaching and knew instantly that the man at his side had come to King’s Cross to meet Elspeth Simmons. Her father, he guessed, or perhaps an uncle – too old, in any case, to be 27
a boyfriend. But whatever connection he had had to the girl, the news of her death seemed to have devastated him: his walk, his shoulders, the constant movement of his hands and the blank expression on his face – all signalled the stubborn disbelief of the violently bereaved.
‘This is Frank Simmons, Sir,’ said Fallowfield. ‘He’s Miss Simmons’s uncle.’
Archie held out his hand, knowing from experience that the habitual formalities of everyday life could, in their very familiarity, act as a small but reassuring prop to those whose world had just been snatched from under them. ‘Detective Inspector Penrose,’ he said, and then simply, ‘I’m so very sorry.’
The man nodded in acknowledgement. ‘It’s all my fault, you see,’ he said, in response to an accusation which came not from the policemen but from a voice inside his head. ‘I was so late to meet her. If only I’d just stayed where I was, she’d be all right now.’
Penrose let him talk, making whatever confession he thought necessary, until he had been led gently to a seat in the waiting room. ‘This is going to be difficult for you, I know, but it’s important that I ask you some questions now about Elspeth and any arrangements that had been made with her for this evening. What did you mean when
