Armstrongs?’
This was a difficult question, to which the answer would be not at all. ‘It’s a family connection,’ I said truthfully. ‘My father knew Mrs Armstrong’s father, Mr Whitaker. He was a policeman in Wakefield,’ I added, hoping this would elicit a little more interest.
‘A policeman was he? Well then he wouldn’t have thought much to his son-in-law, take it from me.’
‘Why is that, officer?’
‘Ethan Armstrong’s a troublemaker. Tried to stir up the men to strike over summat that had nowt to do with them. Wanted them to support the miners at a pit owned by the colonel ten miles from here. The colonel is a fair man and a good employer. Armstrong doesn’t know which side his bread’s buttered. If and when I see him, I shall have one or two questions about wilful damage to a slate sundial.’
‘Surely he wouldn’t have destroyed his own work?’
‘There’s no telling what a man like that would do. His mind doesn’t work like yours or mine.’
Sergeant Sharp was smarter than I had given him credit for. Rather than warn me off, he was trying to recruit meinto the ranks of the reasonable: the good chaps who always share a sensible point of view.
‘Won’t you at least cordon off the mason’s hut, in case this does turn out to be a murder enquiry?’‘
His small eyes narrowed. I had overplayed my hand.
‘No, Mrs Shackleton, I will not.’
‘You’ll have no objections if I continue to make some enquiries?’
‘All sorts of objections, but it’s a free country, which it wouldn’t be if men like Ethan Armstrong had their way.’
Five
I did not straightaway return to Mary Jane’s cottage. It occurred to me that if Miss Trimble, the vicar’s sister from whom Harriet fled, did indeed pop three hundred questions at a time, then perhaps my guess was correct and she was the sergeant’s person whose truthfulness could not be gainsaid and who claimed to have seen Mary Jane by the quarry.
St Justin’s church smelled powerfully of incense, Brasso and lavender polish. I walked down the side aisle. Abundant carnations decorated the altar and gave off an overpowering scent.
I did not sit long in the side pew in the gentle light from the stained-glass windows before Miss Trimble appeared. She recognised me as Harriet’s companion, but hesitated to approach until I smiled and budged along.
‘What a lovely church,’ I remarked as she slipped into the pew beside me.
‘Thank you. My brother and I do our utmost in the service of God and the parish. He could be answering the call in Brighton, but was guided to remain here, due to the church debt.’ A certain tone of regret in her voice ledme to think she would have packed for Brighton and let God take care of the debt.
‘I’m Mrs Kate Shackleton, visiting with Mrs Armstrong today.’
She straightened a hymnal. ‘Miss Aurora Trimble, sister of the vicar. I saw you earlier, with Harriet.’
‘Yes. Her mother sought my help.’ I thought it best to be direct, hoping that she would respond.
Miss Trimble sighed. ‘I wish Mrs Armstrong would seek my help. As a young girl, when in service with the doctor, as Mary Jane Whitaker, she was a conscientious member of my Girls’ Friendship Society.’
‘That was a long time ago I expect.’
‘1912,’ she said firmly. ‘On marriage, most girls join the Ladies’ Friendship Society, though that is not a transition that applied in Mary Jane Armstrong’s case. I had high hopes of her until … Well, naturally, I cannot divulge. But I do now believe she may have been more sinned against than sinning. I have a missal that I should like to return to her. That was why I wanted to catch Harriet, and to enquire whether there is any news.’
‘None I’m afraid.’
She sighed. ‘Pity. But God works in mysterious ways. I know that Harriet wants to walk in the Whitsun procession under the church banner with some of her school friends and I would like to encourage that. If Mr Armstrong
This was a difficult question, to which the answer would be not at all. ‘It’s a family connection,’ I said truthfully. ‘My father knew Mrs Armstrong’s father, Mr Whitaker. He was a policeman in Wakefield,’ I added, hoping this would elicit a little more interest.
‘A policeman was he? Well then he wouldn’t have thought much to his son-in-law, take it from me.’
‘Why is that, officer?’
‘Ethan Armstrong’s a troublemaker. Tried to stir up the men to strike over summat that had nowt to do with them. Wanted them to support the miners at a pit owned by the colonel ten miles from here. The colonel is a fair man and a good employer. Armstrong doesn’t know which side his bread’s buttered. If and when I see him, I shall have one or two questions about wilful damage to a slate sundial.’
‘Surely he wouldn’t have destroyed his own work?’
‘There’s no telling what a man like that would do. His mind doesn’t work like yours or mine.’
Sergeant Sharp was smarter than I had given him credit for. Rather than warn me off, he was trying to recruit meinto the ranks of the reasonable: the good chaps who always share a sensible point of view.
‘Won’t you at least cordon off the mason’s hut, in case this does turn out to be a murder enquiry?’‘
His small eyes narrowed. I had overplayed my hand.
‘No, Mrs Shackleton, I will not.’
‘You’ll have no objections if I continue to make some enquiries?’
‘All sorts of objections, but it’s a free country, which it wouldn’t be if men like Ethan Armstrong had their way.’
Five
I did not straightaway return to Mary Jane’s cottage. It occurred to me that if Miss Trimble, the vicar’s sister from whom Harriet fled, did indeed pop three hundred questions at a time, then perhaps my guess was correct and she was the sergeant’s person whose truthfulness could not be gainsaid and who claimed to have seen Mary Jane by the quarry.
St Justin’s church smelled powerfully of incense, Brasso and lavender polish. I walked down the side aisle. Abundant carnations decorated the altar and gave off an overpowering scent.
I did not sit long in the side pew in the gentle light from the stained-glass windows before Miss Trimble appeared. She recognised me as Harriet’s companion, but hesitated to approach until I smiled and budged along.
‘What a lovely church,’ I remarked as she slipped into the pew beside me.
‘Thank you. My brother and I do our utmost in the service of God and the parish. He could be answering the call in Brighton, but was guided to remain here, due to the church debt.’ A certain tone of regret in her voice ledme to think she would have packed for Brighton and let God take care of the debt.
‘I’m Mrs Kate Shackleton, visiting with Mrs Armstrong today.’
She straightened a hymnal. ‘Miss Aurora Trimble, sister of the vicar. I saw you earlier, with Harriet.’
‘Yes. Her mother sought my help.’ I thought it best to be direct, hoping that she would respond.
Miss Trimble sighed. ‘I wish Mrs Armstrong would seek my help. As a young girl, when in service with the doctor, as Mary Jane Whitaker, she was a conscientious member of my Girls’ Friendship Society.’
‘That was a long time ago I expect.’
‘1912,’ she said firmly. ‘On marriage, most girls join the Ladies’ Friendship Society, though that is not a transition that applied in Mary Jane Armstrong’s case. I had high hopes of her until … Well, naturally, I cannot divulge. But I do now believe she may have been more sinned against than sinning. I have a missal that I should like to return to her. That was why I wanted to catch Harriet, and to enquire whether there is any news.’
‘None I’m afraid.’
She sighed. ‘Pity. But God works in mysterious ways. I know that Harriet wants to walk in the Whitsun procession under the church banner with some of her school friends and I would like to encourage that. If Mr Armstrong
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