Page 31

I met Max, as we’d arranged, outside the teashop at ten o’clock the following morning.

It was still raining, so I was all wrapped up in jeans and a Pac-a-Mac, as it was too warm for a coat, but I needed something waterproof with a hood.

I didn’t have an umbrella. They really annoyed me; they blew inside out on windy days, and having to hold them up inevitably meant that rainwater trickled down my sleeve.

Max clearly had no problem with them, though, as he was carrying his again. He wasn’t wearing a coat, and I didn’t blame him. It was quite muggy, and I suspected even the bottle-green sweatshirt he was wearing with black jeans might prove too warm for him.

‘How is Jimmy?’ he asked politely as we headed over the nearest little stone footbridge that crossed the Faran.

‘Ummm…’ I wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. Max had visited Dad as planned yesterday afternoon after he’d left the teashop, and when I’d got home, I’d half-expected him to still be there, chatting. I’d imagined inviting him to stay for dinner as promised, but he’d gone.

Dad had acted strange when I’d asked him how the visit went. ‘All right,’ he’d replied cagily. ‘We had a couple of biscuits and a cup of tea. He only stayed an hour or so.’

‘Really?’ That had puzzled me. ‘Did he – did he want to talk about anything in particular?’

To my alarm, Dad had almost growled at me. ‘If you mean did he want to talk about his grandfather, then yes. And it’s the biggest load of rubbish I’ve ever heard.’

‘Okay, Dad,’ I’d said, holding up my hands. ‘I know you remember Helen and Alf but?—’

‘I do remember them, yes. And a nice couple they were, too, as were Betty’s parents. The idea that they’d have mistreated that man is rubbish, and I told Max so.’

‘You said it a bit more tactfully than that, I hope?’ I’d said, dismayed. ‘He’s just trying to get some answers, Dad. You can’t blame him for that.’

‘He kept it very quiet, didn’t he? Not mentioning who his grandad was or why he was here? Downright sneaky, I call it.’

This was so unlike Dad that I hadn’t known what to make of it.

‘Well,’ I’d said uneasily, ‘I’ve sort of promised him I’ll go with him to the farm tomorrow to talk to Betty about it.’

‘No “sort of” about it, from what I’ve heard,’ Dad had said. ‘You must do as you think fit. But you’re wasting your time. The Rowlands wouldn’t hurt anyone, which is more than I can say for some.’

And that was as much as I’d been able to get out of him, so I didn’t really have an honest answer for Max.

‘It’s okay,’ he said quietly. ‘I left your father early yesterday because our conversation took a rather heated turn. I completely understand. Your family is apparently close to the family at the farm. Your father clearly believes the Rowlands were incapable of any wrongdoing. I disagreed, so we agreed it best I leave. I had hoped he would calm down after my departure, but perhaps that was optimistic.’

‘It’s not like Dad,’ I said, feeling even more worried now. ‘He doesn’t get angry like that, and he’s certainly never rude to people.’

‘Perhaps,’ Max said, giving me a wary look, ‘he knows more than he’s letting on.’

‘About the Rowlands?’ I didn’t want to think that was possible. ‘He wouldn’t cover up for anyone who mistreated another person,’ I said firmly. ‘I know that for a fact.’

‘Well,’ Max said heavily, ‘I guess today we might take one step closer to finding out what really happened to my grandfather.’

‘Let’s just hope Betty’s available to talk,’ I said.

I hadn’t wanted to call her to ask if it was okay to come over, because she might have asked why, and I’d have had to tell her.

I thought it better if we saw her reaction face to face – not because I thought it would catch her out, but because I wanted Max to see for himself that she had nothing to hide.

Sadly, my plan went out of the window as soon as we arrived, because Betty met us at the door, cradling her cat in her arms, and said, ‘Well, you’d better come in. Your dad called me, Shona, so I know what this is about. Gerhard Janssen, right?’

Max and I exchanged glances. Great! Thanks for that, Dad.

We followed Betty inside the farmhouse and, after we’d wiped our feet and hung up my wet mac and his wet umbrella in the boot room, she set Mitzi on the floor and invited us to take a seat at the table.

The kitchen was warm and comfortable, and just as you’d imagine a cosy, old farmhouse to be. With the rain lashing down outside and the smell of freshly baked bread in the air, it should have been a pleasant visit, but my stomach was in knots now as I saw the uncomfortable look on Betty’s face.

‘Tea? Coffee?’

I gave Max an enquiring look, but he said politely, ‘No, thank you. I am awash with tea and coffee. I’ve never drunk so much since I started visiting here.’

He said it with a smile and clearly meant it to be humorous, but Betty gave him a thoroughly disapproving look and, after I’d also declined a drink, she sat down at the table and eyed us both grimly.

‘So,’ she said to him, ‘you came here because you think my grandad treated yours badly. Is that why Rissa came here, too? Is that what she thinks about my family?’

Max shook his head. ‘Rissa has done nothing but defend you. She came here because she loves history and thought it would be good to see somewhere that involved her own family history. She likes it here very much, and she has never said a bad word about you. That’s probably why she never told me she was working here,’ he admitted.

Betty looked highly relieved. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ she said.

‘I’m fond of Rissa, and the thought that she—’ She folded her arms. ‘Well anyway, you clearly think the worst of my grandparents. How could you sit here eating high tea with us when you believed all that of them? I ask you, Mr Meyer, do you really think my family treated your grandfather badly?’

‘It’s Max, remember?’

‘Yes, I thought it was,’ she said heavily. ‘Now I think Mr Meyer might be more appropriate. You’re wrong, you know. What you’re thinking. It’s rubbish. My grandad wouldn’t harm any man, let alone someone like Gerhard, who was so far from home and who’d been through more than enough already.’

‘With respect, Betty, you weren’t there,’ Max said calmly.

‘And with respect, Mr Meyer , neither were you.’

‘Okay,’ I said hastily, ‘this really isn’t getting us anywhere.

Betty, Max just wants to know what happened when his grandfather worked here.

Gerhard never spoke about Rowan Farm, even though he talked easily enough about the camp at Chipping Marsham, and even about things that happened to him during the war, so you can see why his family were worried when Gerhard started saying stuff in his last few days and weeks. ’

‘What kind of stuff exactly?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Heartbreaking stuff,’ Max told her. ‘About blood and darkness and cold. And he—’ He visibly swallowed before continuing, ‘He begged for his life. Someone made him beg for his life. I want to know if it was someone here, and if so, who it was and why they would treat him so badly.’

‘He begged for his life?’ Betty looked to me as if I could confirm it.

I shrugged and she bit her lip. There was a long silence as she evidently tried to work out what she should say in response, and maybe even if she should say anything at all.

Finally, she sighed and said, ‘I’m not sure I should talk about this.

I made a promise to my mum and I’ve kept it all this time. ’

Max sat forward eagerly. ‘So, you do know something? Please, Mrs—’ He hesitated, clearly not sure of her surname.

‘Whittaker.’

‘Please, Mrs Whittaker. If you know anything that will clear up this mystery and put my mind at rest, I would be forever grateful. My sister and me – our thoughts are running riot. We are imagining all sorts of horrible deeds and it’s hard to bear. We loved our grandfather very much.’

‘I’m sure you did,’ she said, plucking nervously at the tablecloth, ‘but there’s more people to think about in all this than just you and your sister, with all due respect.’

‘But it was so long ago,’ Max pleaded. ‘Surely, after all this time?’

‘It might have been a long time ago, but in places like this, time doesn’t always have much meaning.’ Betty’s gaze slid over to me, and I frowned. What was she getting at?

‘Please,’ I said, ‘if you can tell him anything, it would be appreciated.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asked me. ‘Really sure?’

‘Of course,’ I said, surprised. ‘It’s the kindest thing to do, isn’t it?’

‘All right, but this is between us three and I want your word on it. I don’t want this getting round the village, stirring things up again, getting tongues wagging the way they did back then.’

‘Of course,’ I said.

Max nodded. ‘You have my word.’

‘Well, Mr Meyer, in that case… Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps your grandfather wasn’t the innocent you think him to be? That maybe when you heard him begging for his life, it wasn’t something he’d once said, but something someone once said to him ?’

Max looked stunned and I sat back in my chair, wondering what on earth Betty meant by that remark.

She shook her head impatiently. ‘This is bloody hard to say, it really is. You say your grandfather suffered here. Well, maybe he did and maybe he didn’t.

But shall I tell you who definitely suffered here?

My grandparents, that’s who. Nearly broke them.

They considered leaving this village if you must know, and all because of your grandfather. ’

Max’s mouth fell open. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘No, you really don’t. The thing you may not know is, there was a murder in the village back when your grandfather was here.’

Betty didn’t look at me, even though she must have sensed my eyes boring into hers as I silently begged the question, Are you talking about Aunt Polly?

‘A murder?’ Max asked, astonished.