Deliver Us from Evil by Peter Turnbull Page B

exterior. The porch gave directly on to a large kitchen with an unevenly stone-flagged floor and a large, solid table covered with a green cloth. To the left, as the officers entered, was an ancient cast iron range. The rear door of the kitchen gave way to a scullery with a door with a glass pane which looked out on to the overgrown rear garden and to the white-coated hills beyond. Beattie took a kettle and filled it from the taps of a galvanized iron sink which stood beyond and beside the range. The taps seemed to Yellich to be original and were clearly attached to lead piping which, he thought, would throw the health and safety people into apoplexy, but they had evidently done Alexander Beattie little harm and he doubted that the cup of tea they were going to be kindly offered would similarly be harmful to either him or Webster. He glanced round the kitchen and suddenly felt himself to be in a time capsule. He searched for some precise indication of the date of the building and, finding none, he settled for ‘about two hundred years old, early, very early nineteenth century’. The elderly Alsatian had walked slowly to a blanket in the corner by the scullery door and had collapsed resignedly upon it, no longer being concerned by Yellich and Webster’s presence.
    â€˜So how can I help you?’ Beattie struck a match, held it to a ring on top of the range, and the gas of the stove ignited with a loud ‘woosh’ sound. He put three mugs on the table and took a bottle of milk from a bowl of water in the sink and put it beside the mugs. He then put the kettle atop the gas flames.
    â€˜It’s about a lady called Edith Hemmings,’ Yellich said.
    â€˜Edith Hemmings?’ Beattie looked puzzled. ‘Sorry . . . gentlemen, oh do please take a seat by the way. Edith Hemmings . . . I am sorry, I can’t place that name.’
    â€˜We believe that she used to work here.’
    â€˜I have had a few helpers . . . companions so-called, all employed by my son . . . Edith . . . but no Edith. That is an old and quite an unusual name in fact – I knew one girl of that name in my youth. I’d remember another Edith. I am sure I would.’
    â€˜A Canadian lady,’ Yellich prompted.
    Beattie groaned. ‘Oh, her . . .’ a note of anger crept into his voice. He leaned back against the range. ‘That damned female!’
    Yellich and Webster glanced at each other. Yellich said, ‘I see we are in the right place.’
    â€˜Yes,’ Beattie moved to his right and rested against the sink. ‘If it is about her, then yes, you certainly are in the right place. Must be all of two years since she left, probably a little more. I didn’t know her as “Edith” though; it was “Julia” when she was here.’
    â€˜She lived here?’
    â€˜Yes, as you see, this house is too remote for a daily help, so yes, she had a room here. All my companions did. My son appointed her, dare say he meant well. He’s retired now . . . and . . . well, he has his family and health issues, so he planted her here to look after the old boy so he wouldn’t have to worry about him, just as he planted other women here before Julia. She was a daily help . . . a housekeeper . . . a companion all rolled into one. Very few want to live here, and none who are prepared to do so ever remain very long. You know over the years I have come to realize that the sort of women who are prepared to live and work here are those who do so for the same reason that men join the French Foreign Legion. Running away, d’you see? They want a place to hide . . . or a place to forget their past.’
    â€˜Interesting.’
    â€˜She was the last companion I had. Prefer it alone now anyway . . . me and Ben Tinsley, we keep a watchful eye on each other. His house is that way.’ He