The Judge's Daughter (23 page)

‘She’s in a state, Zach. She doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going – it’s a nervous condition.’

‘My family doesn’t have nervous conditions.’ He banged a fist on the desk. ‘If she has a nervous illness, it’s from her witch of a mother. Does she need to go into
an asylum?’

‘No.’ Not yet, Louisa said inwardly. But if Helen ever did need a hospital, he would be the cause of it. It would be easy to dislike him. But she remembered the keywords –
safety and wealth. ‘A move might well destroy her. She would have nowhere to turn.’

‘If she went into a mental hospital, it might quieten my colleagues in the wake of tonight’s fiasco.’

‘She hates the man,’ said Louisa.

‘Who is she to pick and choose?’

‘She’s human, not an animal to be mated with a chosen sire.’

Zachary Spencer glared at his wife. She was a good wife. She had never refused him, had never rejected him. The bad apple in this house was the one upstairs. ‘I am not pleased with you,
Louisa,’ he said.

‘I know and I am sorry. But that woman is your flesh and blood. She needs help and I will not turn my back on her. I look at her and I see you. To send her away would be unbearably cruel,
and that is why I would have to go with her and help her to settle.’

His shoulders sagged, reminding her of a balloon with the air escaping. She supposed that she was seeing a fair illustration of the saying about wind being taken from sails. No longer a galleon,
he dropped into his leather chair. ‘As you wish,’ he said behind gritted teeth. ‘But one more episode and she goes. I don’t care where she goes, but I will not allow a
madwoman to share a house with my son.’

Louisa nodded. She was an incubator, no more than that.

After escaping from the lion’s den, Louisa fled upstairs to comfort her stepdaughter with the news.

But Helen astonished her. ‘I think I want to leave,’ she said.

‘Helen – I have just been through hell and high water to—’

‘I know, and I love you for it. But there are cottages in the village. I’d still be near you. You could visit me and I could come here while he’s out. If he goes away,
I’ll stay with you.’

The idea of being alone with Zachary Spencer was not palatable. Panic seared through Louisa’s body. She had known all along that Helen needed her; she now realized that the reverse was
also true. ‘Think before you act,’ she advised.

‘I will. Yes, I definitely will.’

‘He’s not been a good father, Helen. Some people are not cut out for parenthood.’

‘He would have been good to a son.’

‘Would he?’

The two women stared at each other. Had their relationship required a further application of cement, it would have arrived in this moment. The reject and the breeding machine were completely
bound together.

‘Cocoa?’ asked Louisa.

‘Yes, please. Louisa?’

‘What?’

‘Thanks. You are good to me.’

Louisa smiled and left the room. Life was not going to be easy in this house. The least troublesome option would have been to allow him his way, but Louisa feared for her stepdaughter. Helen
needed a friend. As long as Louisa remained alive, she would have one.

Denis, a man of even temperament, slammed the front door.

Agnes ran through from the kitchen, a journey that required no more than four paces. ‘Are you all right, love?’

Was he all right? Was he heck as all right. ‘Put that kettle on, Agnes. It’s been a foul weather day and there’ll be more to come.’ He threw down his canvas work bag and
dropped into a chair. Anyone who knew Denis Makepeace was of the opinion that he was not easily riled; when he did lose his patience, the results could be almost meteorological.

Agnes did as she was asked, her eyes scanning a bright blue sky with just a few cotton wool clouds decorating its surface. There had been no rain and no thunder, but there had been Judge Zachary
Spencer trying to save face after that disastrous party. Never a pleasant man, he had probably given her beloved husband one hell of a time. Poor Denis deserved better than this.

He took the tea. ‘Thanks,’ he sighed. ‘Let me have ten minutes, then I’ll tell you. My brain’s all over the place.’ He shook his head. ‘Sometimes, I
wonder whether there’s any sanity left in this world.’

His head spun. Helen had paced through the day like a caged tiger, back and forth across lawns, round the outside of the house, in and out of the copse. She had popped up all over the place.
Sometimes, he had wondered whether an identical twin had escaped from one of the attics. Officially, she had a summer cold and could not get in to work. In truth, she was a mixture of fear and
fury, was every inch the caged wild animal.

Wife the Second was in a state, too. She had spent her day running between the judge and his daughter, clearly attempting to negotiate a treaty with more clauses than Utrecht. ‘Bloody
madhouse,’ whispered Denis between sips of strong tea. ‘They want their flaming daft heads knocking together.’ But he couldn’t be the one to do it. No one emerged unscathed
from a confrontation with Judge Zachary Spencer.

It seemed that Helen Spencer had threatened to rent one of the Skirlaugh Fall cottages, an event that would surely unseat her dad. He probably wanted her well out of the way while he prepared
his kingdom for a son and heir; the village was not far enough. The judge didn’t want her on his doorstep, couldn’t stand the idea of close neighbours accusing him of throwing his
daughter out of Lambert House. Pride came before a fall? Had that been the case, the judge should have no intact bones in his whole body, because he had pride enough for ten.

The most panic-stricken of them all had been Louisa. On the odd occasion when Denis had got close to her, he had seen terror in her face. She was frightened of being alone with the old man. The
judge’s daughter had clearly proved to be a distraction for Louisa, and she dreaded losing the balm provided by this unexpected friendship. Denis, caught in the middle of hostilities, had
washed cars, swept paths, weeded gardens. No one had spoken directly to him. Helen was possibly seeking to reinstate the necessary distance between employer and employee, a move for which Denis
would be grateful beyond measure. As the day had matured, so had she. The walking had stopped and she had returned to the house.

Agnes sat down. ‘Well?’

He sighed heavily. ‘Just after dinner – lunch to that lot up yon – I was passing his office window with my wheelbarrow. The window was wide open. The boss was yelling like a
madman. He was screaming at Helen, asking her why she wanted him to go easy on Harry Timpson. She gave him an answer, all right. She said, “Because I can” – just came out with it.
I don’t think she’s even scared of you finding out about what never happened – she’s well past that now. So she’s doing it for devilment. Come to think, she’s
well past everything. She doesn’t care – opens her gob without thinking first.’

Kate knocked and entered. ‘Blood and stomach pills,’ was her opening salvo, ‘they want shooting, the lot of ’em. Miss Helen’s riding high, told him he’s made
her ill, even invited him to bugger off and die. I’m surprised, because it looked like she was going out of her way to be nice to him for a while. Mrs Spencer can’t cope –
she’ll be losing the kiddy if this carries on. I feel like packing it in, Denis. How was your day?’

‘The same,’ he answered.

Kate complained of untouched meals returning to the kitchen, said she had enough to feed Albert and herself for three days. She continued to moan, citing the noisiness and stupidity of her
employers. ‘It’s a lunatic asylum, that’s what. Miss Helen’s off her rocker, her dad could do with hanging out to dry because of all the brandy, and Mrs Spencer deserves
none of it.’

Denis agreed. ‘But I can’t pack the job in, Kate. Me and Agnes need to stay here because of our baby and my chest. You’re right, though. They’re madder than a bucket of
frogs.’

Agnes listened intently. ‘Is there an easy job I could do, Kate? I know you’ve been looking for folk. Something part time – I could clean the silver and do a bit of
ironing.’

Denis tried to put his foot down. He wasn’t having his wife in the same enclosure as Spencer and company. ‘You’re having a baby,’ he informed her.

‘Thanks for telling me, Denis. I’d never have realized. Look, Mags had a word with me at that party. She reckons Miss Spencer needs a friend nearby.’

‘She’s got her stepmother,’ answered Denis. ‘They’re like twins.’

‘Oh, be quiet.’ Agnes frowned, obviously thinking.

‘I could find you something light,’ offered Kate. ‘But she did make a play for your husband. She’s a couple of halfpennies short of a bob. How would she treat you? I
mean, she’s at home a lot these days. I reckon she’ll be leaving that library soon. At this rate, it won’t be long before they all say she’s unfit for work.’

‘I don’t want her living down here in the village.’ Denis drained his cup. ‘Bad enough being up at Lambert all day – I don’t fancy falling over her every time
I leave my own house. I’d feel hunted.’

‘Then I’ll work a couple of days starting tomorrow. Let’s see if I can get near her and persuade her to stay at home.’ Agnes glared at her beloved. ‘Don’t
look at me like that – I still have a mind of my own, you know. Being pregnant isn’t a full time occupation. I can sit and peel veg, clean silver, polish shoes. I don’t have to
stop in this house all the while, and Kate could do with a bit of support. So could Miss Spencer.’

‘But she’s mad.’ Denis stood up. ‘You don’t know what she’s capable of – none of us knows yet. She has turns, Agnes. What if she has a turn and that
turn’s a turn against you?’

Agnes glanced at Kate. ‘Hasn’t he got a lovely way with words? Kate, you’ll have to keep an eye on me, because it’s plain I can’t look after myself. Get a gun and a
couple of silver bullets for when there’s a full moon. Oh, and a few garlic flowers. I’ve got a crucifix somewhere – Nan bought it me last Christmas, God rest her.’

Denis gave up. ‘I give up,’ he announced.

‘Knows when he’s beaten,’ Agnes advised her neighbour. ‘You see, that’s where Napoleon and Hitler went wrong – they didn’t know when to quit. Marching
on Moscow’s not a good idea. Next time there’s a war, they can have my husband in the planning department. He knows when to give up. I trained him myself.’

Denis shook his head before retreating to the kitchen. He washed lettuce and listened to the two women. They had a goal: Helen should stay where she was, because she had suffered enough and that
was her own house, bought and paid for by years of misery. He sliced through corned beef while his wife and his co-worker stabbed at the judge. ‘Too big for his boots,’ declared
Kate.

‘Needs a good thump,’ agreed Agnes.

Denis found cruet, cutlery and plates, and set two places at the table. Since Agnes would need all her strength, he poured a small bottle of stout into a glass. She’d be wanting plenty of
iron in her blood when she stepped into the valley of the cursed. He paused, then poured a pale ale for himself. It was a hard life and he must not weaken.

Louisa was afraid for Helen. The poor girl had clearly lost her sense of balance, was saying too much to her father and was in danger of becoming a certified lunatic if she
didn’t calm down. Not that it was a case of calming down at the moment, because Helen was calm. As long as she stayed away from her dad, she was almost rational.

‘I’m going,’ said Helen for what seemed like the fortieth time.

Louisa grabbed her hand. ‘Wait a while,’ she begged. There was selfishness in the request, and Louisa wondered how she would have managed without Zach’s daughter. Having served
her purpose by proving herself fertile, Louisa was now being ignored for much of the time. Her husband slept in his dressing room, using as excuse the opinion that Louisa needed her rest. He spoke
infrequently, was distant and dismissive. Left here with only him, Louisa would surely go out of her mind. She and Helen might well finish up sharing a room in some private home for the terribly
bewildered. ‘Please, please stay. I need you, Helen. This baby will need you.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Of course you can. There are no more shared meals to get through – you cook for yourself here in your own little apartment. You’ll hardly see him. You don’t need to see
him at all if you don’t want to.’

Helen turned her head slowly and faced her friend. ‘And when I do see him, I’ll kill him.’

A shiver ran the length of Louisa’s backbone. She had married for security, no more, yet had clung to Helen like a drowning woman clutching a piece of frail flotsam. Helen had made the
whole arrangement bearable. If she left . . . Louisa swallowed.

‘It’s difficult to explain,’ Helen said. ‘For years, I have avoided him. When I was a child I was ignored, and that neglect shaped me. It’s strange. I am lonely,
but I don’t want anyone to come close. You are a very isolated exception. You are good to me and you make me feel better.’

‘Then stay for me.’

Helen half smiled. ‘Will you be there to take the knife out of my hand or out of his back?’

‘It won’t come to that.’

The room darkened. Helen frowned, tried to order her thoughts, failed yet again. There was something she knew, yet she didn’t know it. Loud noises – like the clattering of the tray
at the party – triggered a memory that was not a memory. Falling in love with Denis had produced a similar effect. There was in her a place she needed to visit, yet she dreaded reaching it.
Nothing made sense. Helen, a clear enough thinker, was circling something big, something horrible. It came and went, while she simply became the space it occupied.

‘Don’t leave me, please.’

Helen looked at her fellow sufferer. Louisa was here in the now time, not in the nightmare, because she shared no history with the man she had married. ‘You should have walked away from
him. You can’t possibly know what you have taken on.’

‘He was to be my safety.’

‘There is no safety while he breathes.’

Louisa gulped noisily. ‘I would be here all by myself. He doesn’t want me, Helen. All he wants is a son. That son will have to follow in his father’s footsteps, be successful
in all he does.’