Free The Blackwoods Farm Enquiry (An Ivy Beasley Mystery) by Ann Purser Page A

cold, had been stubbed out in a saucer.
    Had someone been living here, using the fire escape as entrance and exit? Had he been living here all the time, and keeping his head down? Perhaps her lodger had returned, needing somewhere to hide. The dark clouds were overhead now, and a sudden burst of heavy rain beat down on the yard outside, sending hens scuttling for shelter and forming instant puddles and streams rushing out into the road. He closed the window, and decided he had seen quite enough. He needed Deirdre’s commonsense reaction to all of this, and he made his way downstairs and out into the real world in Manor Road.
    • • •
    “A FIRE ESCAPE?” asked Deirdre, as they drove into Thornwell to visit Mrs. Blatch in the General Hospital. “That’s unusual, isn’t it, in a domestic building like that?”
    Gus nodded. “But very useful for our mystery lodger. If it was his room, it was very neat and tidy, but he had left a smouldering cigar. Not the most sensible thing to do in a house full of old beams and rafters.”
    “Turn right here,” Deirdre said. “We can park on the roadside. I’ve spent hours trying to find a place in the car park. And you don’t have to pay here.”
    They walked into the hospital reception, and were directed to a lift. “First on the left, down the corridor we call the street, and you’ll find Roussel Ward at the end.”
    “Must have been a philanthropic ancestor of Theo,” said Deirdre.
    Gus snorted. “Pity he didn’t pass down his taste for philanthropy to our present Roussel.
He
could start with reducing my rent! Daylight robbery for that hovel.”
    “Talking of hovels,” said Deirdre, “we must report what you found out this morning. It will surely affect her home-going tomorrow. Ah, here we are. In you go, Gus, and announce your charming self.”
    • • •
    HAVING ESTABLISHED THEIR bona fides, they found Roussel Ward and hesitated at the entrance.
    “Can I help?” said a young nurse.
    “We’re looking for Mrs. Blatch,” said Gus.
    Deirdre, meanwhile, had looked around the ward, but could recognise none of the old ladies, most of them asleep.
    “The bed in the corner,” said the nurse quietly. “We’d be very glad if you could get some response from her. Gently, of course. But your voices might bring some recognition. I am afraid the poor lady had a terrible accident.”
    They tiptoed down the ward, aware of one or two pairs of eyes following them. Then a voice spoke loudly across to them.
    “You’ll get nothing out of ’er! She’s away with the fairies, that one.”
    “Thank you,” said Deirdre politely, and took Gus’s arm. “Come on, let’s find the old dear. I shall recognise her.”
    “Let’s do five minutes and then scarper,” whispered Gus.
    The bed in the corner was almost as flat as if nobody were in it. Only the grey head on the pillow disturbed its pristine appearance. The nurse drew up two chairs, one each side of the bed, and they sat down. Deirdre saw two pale hands resting on the cover, and gently covered one with her own.
    “Mrs. Blatch,” she said quietly. “Mrs. Bloxham and Mr. Halfhide are here to see you.”
    An eyelid flickered.
    “Hello, Eleanor,” said Gus. “I hope you don’t mind my using your Christian name? Mrs. Winchen Blatch is a bit of a mouthful.”
    Another flicker. Then her eyes opened. Deirdre held her breath, and then Gus said in a loud, chatty voice, “Shame you fell over, my dear. Still, old age is a bugger, isn’t it!”
    A strange noise came from Eleanor Winchen Blatch. After a few seconds, Deirdre realised what it was. The poor old thing was trying to laugh!
    “Gus!” she said. “You’ll offend the other old dears.”
    “Not likely,” said Mrs. Blatch in a much firmer voice. “Rough lot in here. Now then, young man, help me up on these pillows. I don’t know what I’m doing in bed in the middle of the day, anyway.” She added, “What day of the week is it?”, struggled and looked