seemed to him that with the child’s murder and disfigurement a door had been opened once more into the world of savagery and barbarism which bitter experience had taught him lay just outside the frail fabric that bound ordered society.
Try as he might he could not shake free of his fears and increasingly he found the quiet rhythms of his life – rhythms dearly bought and cherished – disturbed by unanswered questions, and by the thought of the killer who still walked free.
More distracted than usual that morning – with the autumn ploughing at hand, he wanted to clear up the paperwork that had accumulated on his desk – he was late getting away from the farm and returned to the house for lunch to find Mary, their maid, impatiently awaiting his arrival in the hall.
‘Mrs Beck would like to see you, sir.’
‘See me?’ Madden was nonplussed. The household staff were Helen’s business. However, she had driven up to London that morning on a shopping expedition and would not be back until late afternoon.
‘Yes, sir. She’s waiting for you now.’ Mary Morris’s brown eyes bore a suspiciously innocent look. Her smothered smile hinted that there was mischief afoot.
Alerted, Madden made his way to the kitchen where he discovered their cook standing before the back door with folded arms, as though to bar it. She wore a defiant expression.
‘There’s a person says he wants to see you, sir.’
‘A person, Mrs Beck?’ Madden deposited the parcel of butter and eggs he’d brought from the farm on the kitchen table. ‘Who is he?’
‘I didn’t take his name, sir.’ Cook’s voice was heavy with disapproval.
‘Where is he?’
‘Outside, in the yard.’
Tossing her head in a gesture of disdain, she moved away from the door, and Madden went past her to open it. One glance at the shabby figure sitting slumped on an upturned barrel by the kitchen garden gate, and all was made clear to him. Over the years, and at the insistence of her employers, Mrs Beck had come to accept the occasional presence of tramps and vagrants in her kitchen. But she drew the line at gypsies!
‘Hullo, Joe.’ Smiling a greeting, Madden stepped out into the yard, and as he did so, Goram looked up. ‘What brings you back to Highfield?’
‘Beezy, you say? Are you sure? Is it him?’
‘Ah, well, that’s the trouble, sir.’ Goram rubbed his bristly chin. ‘I can’t be sure.’
They sat facing each other across the kitchen table, the remains of a veal and ham pie and an array of empty cider bottles between them. Two hard days on the road had put an edge on Joe Goram’s appetite.
‘We’re camped in Dorset, sir, t’other side of Blandford. I managed to get one or two lifts on the way, but mostly I’ve had to walk.’ He’d told Madden this while they were still outside, in the yard, and it was plain to see from the leaves and twigs clinging to the gypsy’s twill trousers and the grass stains smearing his grimy, collarless shirt that he’d been sleeping rough. Madden had brought him out a cake of soap and a towel to clean up with.
‘We’ll go inside in a moment and have something to eat. You look done in.’
His words had caused the gypsy’s scowl to lift for a moment as his face split in a gap-toothed grin. ‘I reckon I’d better stay where I am, sir. That missus won’t have me in her kitchen, I can tell you.’
‘Oh, yes, she will.’
Madden’s brave words had soon been put to the test. It had taken all of the ten minutes Joe had needed to make himself presentable before Cora Beck could be convinced of the seriousness of her employer’s suggestion and persuaded to lay the kitchen table for two. That done, she had taken leave of the scene, with an injured air, asserting that there was a mountain of ironing awaiting her attention in the laundry.
Goram had already indicated that he bore news and Madden had asked why he hadn’t telephoned the information to him.
‘Can’t say I’ve ever done that, sir.’ Joe had scratched his head. ‘Used the telephone like. Never had cause to. No, I thought I’d better come myself.’
He’d got a lift into Highfield that morning, he said.
‘I looked in at Dr Madden’s rooms, but she weren’t there.’
‘She drove up to London early today.’ Madden had seated his guest at the table. Seeing Joe eye his knife and fork warily, he had swiftly cut their pie into pieces and picked one up himself in his fingers. ‘Do you need to see her, Joe? Are you unwell?’
‘Oh, no, sir, I’m fine.’ The gypsy flushed. ‘It were something else. I had a message for her from Topper.’
‘Topper?’ Madden’s eyebrows rose at the name. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘Aye, just three nights ago. We were sitting round the fire and he walked in out of the dark. I didn’t know it were him at first.’ Joe chuckled. ‘He weren’t wearing his hat.’
‘Did he know you were camped there?’
‘Must have, sir. It’s the same place we stop at every year. There’s a farmer there lets us use his field. Anyway, old Topper asked if I could get a message to Dr Madden for him.’
‘What message?’
Goram’s face darkened. ‘He made me promise I’d keep it a secret,’ he muttered. ‘But I reckon I can tell you, sir. He said to say there was someone with him who was sick and needed help. Mortal sick was how he put it.’
‘And you reckon that could be Beezy?’ Madden leaned forward, his elbows on the table.
‘Well, like I say, I can’t be sure…’ The gypsy grimaced. ‘But it could be, couldn’t it?’ He eyed Madden anxiously. ‘What do you think, sir?’
‘I think you’re right. It’s him. I had a feeling they’d got together again. What did Topper say, exactly?’
‘That as soon as Doctor Madden came over I was to send one of my boys to Boar’s Hill. That’s where Topper is now. It’s not far.’ The gypsy’s scowl grew deeper. ‘He was that sure she’d come.’
‘He was right.’ Madden snorted. ‘But he’s out of luck. She won’t be back till later.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Blandford, you say. That’s a good three hours away. More if we hit fog. Did Topper tell you what was wrong with his friend?’
Joe shook his head. ‘You know what he’s like, sir, the old sod. Two words is all you get from him, three if you’re lucky. He just said the man was sick and needed help. Didn’t stay more than a minute, either. Just took some food the wife gave him and was on his way.’
Madden pondered the problem. ‘We may have to get this man into hospital, whoever he is,’ he remarked, speaking the thought aloud. His mind was already made up. ‘I’m going to drive you back, Joe,’ he announced. ‘But you’ll have to show me the way to Boar’s Hill when we get there. Are you game?’
‘I reckon so, sir.’ Goram displayed his gap-toothed grin again. Eased of his burden at last, he leaned back in his chair and belched. ‘Long as I’m with you.’
‘And I want to thank you for what you’ve done. It was good of you to come all this way to speak to me.’
‘I said I would. Anything I heard, you’d hear. I gave you my word.’ The gypsy flushed as he spoke, and Madden bowed his head in grave acknowledgement.
‘I know you did, Joe. I’ve not forgotten it.’
‘He said to bring the lady when she came.’ The pale, bearded face was dim in the darkness. ‘Didn’t say nothing about two men.’
‘I’m Dr Madden’s husband. She wasn’t home when Topper’s message reached me.’ Though he had a lamp with him, Madden kept it out of the man’s eyes. Behind him, Joe Goram clicked his tongue with impatience. ‘It said he needed help. That’s why we’re here.’
Topper’s envoy had been waiting for them, rising silently from a thicket as they approached, and Madden had had a brief glimpse of greasy locks beneath a torn cloth cap before the man ducked away from the light in his face. Looming against the night sky behind him was a dark protuberance in the land covered with trees and tangled bushes which Joe had already identified as Boar’s Hill.
Still short of their ultimate destination, it had taken them many hours to reach the spot, their journey from Highfield having been slowed first by low-lying mist on the road, then by the fading light of late afternoon.
Before leaving home, Madden had scribbled a brief note to Helen, telling her what little he knew himself and saying he hoped to be back before dawn. She would not be pleased to hear that he had involved himself in the case once more, he knew, but he hoped the appeal Topper had sent them would persuade her he’d done the right thing.
