Free The Wages of Desire by Stephen Kelly Page A

up to answering a few questions?” Wallace asked.
    Nora wiped her eyes with her right hand, leaving a vague muddy streak on her forehead.
    Marlene looked across the road to the place, about a hundred meters distant, where Lamb was standing with George Taney. “All right,” she said.
    â€œDid Miss Aisquith have any family in Winstead or any personal relationships with anyone there?” Wallace asked.
    â€œIf she did, she never mentioned them to us,” Marlene said. She looked at Nora. “Then again, she didn’t talk much to me and Nora, did she Nora?”
    â€œNo,” Nora whispered.
    â€œI always thought she considered us not quite good enough,” Marlene said. “She had a haughtiness to her. Spent a lot of her time reading books.” She shook her head. “Nah—me and Nora weren’t up to her level, or so she thought.”
    â€œIt sounds as if you didn’t like her much, miss,” Wallace said.
    â€œWell, I had nothing against her, mind. I hardly knew her. But I’m not one to go begging attention from one who’s got it in her mind that she’s better than me.”
    â€œDid you know that Miss Aisquith had gone out this morning?” Wallace asked.
    â€œWe knew,” Marlene said.
    â€œWas it unusual for her to go out so early in the morning?”
    â€œShe went out in the morning to visit her grandmother’s grave in Winstead. She went several times a week. Taney allowed it. She came back in time to help serve breakfast; that was one of her jobs here.”
    â€œDid she ever fail to return for breakfast?”
    â€œNot that I remember,” Marlene said.
    â€œHow about you, Miss Bancroft?”
    Nora shook her head and sniffled. “No.”
    â€œDo you know if she ever visited anyone while she was in the village?”
    â€œAs I said, if she did, she said nothing to us about it.”
    â€œDid she ever mention the name Mary Forrest?”
    â€œNo, who is that?”
    Wallace smiled. “It’s not important,” he said. “What about the other women in the camp—did she have friendly relationships with any of them, or perhaps some of the men?”
    â€œNot that I could see. Some of the men try it on with us, of course, but we’re not allowed to fraternize.”
    â€œWhere was she found?” Nora asked.
    â€œIn the cemetery.”
    â€œWas it bad?”
    â€œI’m afraid it was, yes.”
    Nora put her hand to her mouth.
    â€œDid Miss Aisquith mention anything to either of you about someone she might have had a disagreement or row with?”
    â€œNo,” Marlene said. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if she did. She was pig-headed—a conchi. She went to prison rather than join the fire-watching service. Then she ended up here.”
    â€œDid it bother anyone here that she was a conchi?”
    â€œA few, I suppose.”
    â€œDo you know who, specifically?”
    â€œSome of the men, I suppose. Nobody talked about it. If you must know, I didn’t much fancy the idea myself. Times such as these, everyone has a duty. Apparently she thought herself too fine to do hers. Let someone else do her duty and yet she reaps the reward, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œDid she ever talk about—mention—that someone might have threatened her because she was a conchi?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid she speak to either of you about anything that might have been troubling her?”
    â€œShe hardly said good morning to either of us.”
    Nora stood with her arms still wrapped about her and looking away from Wallace toward the wood that bordered the field. Wallace concluded that he would get nothing more useful from either of the women for the moment. He would speak that day to many other people in the camp and some of them surely would know more than these two, he thought. He raised his hat and said, “Thank you, ladies.”
    As Vera and Wallace