The Killings at Badger's Drift(67)

‘I know you’ll find this impossible to believe but when I first came here . . . of course I was much younger then . . .’ Her glance at the floor was abject. It indicated how sad she found her age, her appearance, her general unlovableness. ‘And Henry was . . . I did everything in the house, you know . . . and he was always so grateful. Then . . . gradually I felt his gratitude becoming something more. Bella was always so busy, you understand. Her position in the village meant she was expected to be on the Parish Council, do a certain amount of charity work. She was president of the WI, the local Conservative Association. Oh - she looked after Henry in a brisk sort of way but half the time she just wasn’t here. He looked so wistful sometimes . . . sitting by the window waiting for her car to turn in at the gate. Then one evening - I shall never forget it . . .’ Her puffy face became criss-crossed with tears and her voice thick with emotion. ‘I was preparing some sandwiches - cream cheese with horseradish - and he took my hand and said, “Oh Phyllis. What would I do without you?” Not we’ - she stared at Barnaby defiantly - ‘I. “What would I do without you?” You see he was turning to me more and more as time went by. And I understood that. I loved him so much you see that it seemed only natural that he should start to love me a little. And then I thought’ - her voice dropped to a whisper - ‘how happy we could both be if it wasn’t for Bella.’

She sat down then and was quiet for so long that Barnaby was afraid she had stopped for good. But, just as he was about to speak, she started again. ‘There was no love lost between us, you know. Everyone thought how good it was of her to give me a home. But she would never have got a housekeeper to do all the things I did. And she enjoyed flaunting her happiness. She soon spotted that I cared for Henry. There were no flies on Bella.’

Barnaby moved and sat down without taking his eyes off her face. ‘I’d learnt how to handle a gun when I was quite young. It’s just something one does in the country. But I never liked killing things.’ Her lips twisted on the paradox. ‘I told Bella I fancied a change from domesticity and felt like joining them on a shoot. Henry seemed a bit surprised but quite pleased. I took a hip flask filled with vodka. I wasn’t much of a drinker in those days. I hadn’t any definite plan but I was sure there’d be an opportunity. People don’t stay in a line or bunch you know, they fan out - break up a bit. But, as the time went by, it seemed to be getting more and more impossible. There was always someone between us or she moved too far away or too close. I started to get desperate. I didn’t know what to do. I kept taking drinks from the flask. I knew I’d never get up the courage to go out with them again . . . all the dead birds, the blood . . . it was making me sick. Then I had a brilliant idea. I thought if I went round in front of them and I was hidden in the trees and . . . and did it from there no one would know. So I said I didn’t feel too well or I’d got bored or something and left and worked my way round in a semi-circle till I was facing them. Guns were going off all the time. I suppose I could easily have been hit myself.’ She buried her face in her hands, adding huskily, ‘I wish to God I had been.

‘Then . . . I shot her. It was terrible. I saw her pitch forwards and fall to the ground. And I panicked. I just got up and ran and ran. I threw the gun into some bushes. After a few minutes I stopped and drank the rest of the vodka and then of course I realized . . .’

‘Yes?’ So quiet Barnaby’s voice. So still the room. Troy, pencil flying, felt they had forgotten he was there.

‘. . . Why that everyone would know it wasn’t an accident. All the others, except the farm boy were behind her, you see. And he was too far away. I thought what shall I do, what shall I do? I sat there and sat there. I thought of running away but then everyone would know it was me . . . so I made myself go back. By that time of course it was all over. The ambulance had been and gone and Trevor Lessiter told me that Bella had had an accident. Tripped and fallen on her gun. I just couldn’t believe it. That anyone could be so lucky. I cried and cried with relief. I couldn’t stop. Everyone was very touched. Such sisterly concern.

‘When they’d all gone I made supper for myself and Henry. I didn’t lay the table. We sat by the fire. I had to coax him to eat. I’ve never known such happiness. I expect you think that’s wicked but it’s the truth. All I could think of was, I’ve got away with it, and I’ve got Henry. Then about half-past seven the phone rang.’ Her voice became dry, little more than a croak. ‘Excuse me . . . I need a drink.’