then?’ he asked, in the tone of one who does not believe a word of it. I felt faintlyindignant. Indeed, I have only known Sylvia for a very few days, but there is something … she has something …
‘I’ve become dearly fond of her since I’ve been here,’ I said, ‘but even more importantly, I’m just convinced from the bottom of my heart that she’s not the murderer. I hate to see the police barking up the wrong tree after an innocent person, when they could be chasing the real criminal!’
‘Why are you so sure of that?’
‘Why, aren’t you?’
‘Well, I don’t want to speak ill of anyone.’
‘Peter!’ I exclaimed. ‘Do you suspect Sylvia? You never told me!’
‘Well, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I guess I don’t really. Otherwise I’d feel funny living there, if I really thought she was a murderess. Still – there were some funny things.’
‘What funny things? Tell me at once!’
He paused to think and gather his words, as inarticulate people often do.
‘I haven’t much to tell, really. You see, it was like this: I was never particularly close to Mr Granger.’
‘Well, I can certainly understand that, after all that you told me about the stranglehold he had over your parents, that he called helping them. I should think you could never feel really close to him!’ I said.
‘Well, yes. But still, he had taken me on as groom, which was the job I wanted, and I was making money from him, and things were all right really. And sometimes, as I drove him around here and there, he’d talk to me.’
‘He’d talk to you? About Sylvia, you mean?’
‘Well, about her and other things. He could be a hard man, I’ll say that.
‘“I’m used to winning,” he’d tell me. “I’ve spent my life struggling to get what I want, and I generally succeed. I wanted to marry Sylvia and I did it. But marriage is no joke, Peter, just remember that when you start thinking about getting hitched. The girl is pretty and the ceremony romantic, but that’s only the beginning. People forget that this is for the rest of your life. For better or for worse, that’s what we say in the marriage vows, but that’s not my way. I won’t have Sylvia for worse; it’s got to be for better. She hasn’t been what I’ve wanted her to be since we’ve been married.”
‘“She’s done nothing wrong,” I’d say, to soothe him, for nobody ever saw Sylvia doing the things husbands usually complain of – having lovers or improper friends, or spending too much money.
‘“It’s not what she does, it’s what she doesn’t do,” he’d answer. “She hasn’t learnt to want what her husband wants.” And lately, he’d been getting angry; he talked about it to me sometimes, almost as though he was talking to himself.
‘“I’ll teach her,” he’d say. “I’ve been patient up to now. I’ve been willing to say to myself that she’s too young. But I’m getting tired of it. I’ve given her an ultimatum – she’ll satisfy me or else!” It was almost scary, how he talked, Vanessa.’ (This time, my name slipped out unawares.) ‘I didn’t want to ask him questions. I didn’t feel it was my business. I didn’t want to know anything about his ultimatum. But he let fall a couple of hints. He said something about having her locked away, I don’t know what he meant. Still, though,who knows how angry she might have been against him, and what reasons she might have had?’
‘What an awful man he seems to have been,’ I said, trying to conceal the full force of my indignation and disgust. ‘Poor Sylvia! Yes, it’s easy to see that she had plenty of reason to be angry with him, perhaps even to hate him, deep down. Yet that doesn’t prove that she killed him! If every wife of a nasty husband resorted to murder, there wouldn’t necessarily be a lot of men left about, would there! Or women either, as the poor things would all be in prison.’
‘Oh, husbands aren’t all so bad,’ said Peter
‘I’ve become dearly fond of her since I’ve been here,’ I said, ‘but even more importantly, I’m just convinced from the bottom of my heart that she’s not the murderer. I hate to see the police barking up the wrong tree after an innocent person, when they could be chasing the real criminal!’
‘Why are you so sure of that?’
‘Why, aren’t you?’
‘Well, I don’t want to speak ill of anyone.’
‘Peter!’ I exclaimed. ‘Do you suspect Sylvia? You never told me!’
‘Well, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I guess I don’t really. Otherwise I’d feel funny living there, if I really thought she was a murderess. Still – there were some funny things.’
‘What funny things? Tell me at once!’
He paused to think and gather his words, as inarticulate people often do.
‘I haven’t much to tell, really. You see, it was like this: I was never particularly close to Mr Granger.’
‘Well, I can certainly understand that, after all that you told me about the stranglehold he had over your parents, that he called helping them. I should think you could never feel really close to him!’ I said.
‘Well, yes. But still, he had taken me on as groom, which was the job I wanted, and I was making money from him, and things were all right really. And sometimes, as I drove him around here and there, he’d talk to me.’
‘He’d talk to you? About Sylvia, you mean?’
‘Well, about her and other things. He could be a hard man, I’ll say that.
‘“I’m used to winning,” he’d tell me. “I’ve spent my life struggling to get what I want, and I generally succeed. I wanted to marry Sylvia and I did it. But marriage is no joke, Peter, just remember that when you start thinking about getting hitched. The girl is pretty and the ceremony romantic, but that’s only the beginning. People forget that this is for the rest of your life. For better or for worse, that’s what we say in the marriage vows, but that’s not my way. I won’t have Sylvia for worse; it’s got to be for better. She hasn’t been what I’ve wanted her to be since we’ve been married.”
‘“She’s done nothing wrong,” I’d say, to soothe him, for nobody ever saw Sylvia doing the things husbands usually complain of – having lovers or improper friends, or spending too much money.
‘“It’s not what she does, it’s what she doesn’t do,” he’d answer. “She hasn’t learnt to want what her husband wants.” And lately, he’d been getting angry; he talked about it to me sometimes, almost as though he was talking to himself.
‘“I’ll teach her,” he’d say. “I’ve been patient up to now. I’ve been willing to say to myself that she’s too young. But I’m getting tired of it. I’ve given her an ultimatum – she’ll satisfy me or else!” It was almost scary, how he talked, Vanessa.’ (This time, my name slipped out unawares.) ‘I didn’t want to ask him questions. I didn’t feel it was my business. I didn’t want to know anything about his ultimatum. But he let fall a couple of hints. He said something about having her locked away, I don’t know what he meant. Still, though,who knows how angry she might have been against him, and what reasons she might have had?’
‘What an awful man he seems to have been,’ I said, trying to conceal the full force of my indignation and disgust. ‘Poor Sylvia! Yes, it’s easy to see that she had plenty of reason to be angry with him, perhaps even to hate him, deep down. Yet that doesn’t prove that she killed him! If every wife of a nasty husband resorted to murder, there wouldn’t necessarily be a lot of men left about, would there! Or women either, as the poor things would all be in prison.’
‘Oh, husbands aren’t all so bad,’ said Peter
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