was mirrored, although there was a slight distortion in the glass which elongated his upper torso. He could imagine Elsie turning to see if her stocking seams were straight. Her presence felt very strong.
He opened the wardrobe door and a sweet flowery scent wafted out. There were four frocks hanging there, all summery, three of them flowered prints, the fourth more elegant in blue and grey striped silk. On the upper shelf sat four wide-brimmed straw hats with ribbons to match the dresses; on the bottom of the wardrobe were her shoes: two white leather slingbacks and one pair of black patent high heels, clearly meant for dancing.
Next, he turned his attention to the dresser. There was a dainty ceramic tray on top of a crocheted runner; a little bag of sweets stood next to a large bottle of scent; beside it, a jar of cream, the label hand-printed with the initials
A.T
. He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. The ubiquitous lavender, or maybe that was all he could smell at the moment. Alice’s oil was potent.
In a matching china dish was Elsie’s makeup. Two lipsticks, both bright red; a silver powder compact; an eyebrow penciland a little pot of rouge. Her war paint. He opened the wooden jewellery box. An ivory hair comb; silver and pearl drop earrings; a pair of plain gold hoops that looked expensive. She also had a silver charm bracelet which clinked when he picked it up to look at it. The usual assembly of charms. Janet had been collecting hers since she was fourteen. Teapot, shoe, horse, cat, her initial. Charms were a popular and easy gift to give a girl. Over the years, she could collect as many as would fit on the bracelet. None of these looked particularly new. No heart with a fake diamond in the centre that might be a special gift from a boyfriend.
He pulled open the top drawer. Here Elsie kept her working clothes, all Land Army issue. Sturdy cotton knickers, wool socks, an extra cream-coloured shirt, green wool pullover, and tie, tossed around as if she dressed in a hurry or didn’t care. The second drawer was very different indeed. An after-hours drawer this one, with everything neatly folded. Silk underwear, lace brassiere; three pair of silk stockings, two still in the package; a pair of cami-knickers in black taffeta. Carefully, he lifted out all of the items and placed them on the bed. Tucked away at the back of the drawer, he discovered an unopened package of prophylactics, stamped with the British Army insignia. Also shoved to the back of the drawer was a box of Cadbury’s chocolates. Two pieces had been eaten already. He wondered why Elsie had hidden the chocolates. In this house she had privacy so she didn’t have to keep them secret, unlike the French letters, which would have shocked Mrs. Clark if she’d even recognized what they were.
He returned everything to the drawer except the condoms, which he put in his pocket. He’d save Mrs. Clark or Elsie’s mother the embarrassment of finding them.
On the bedside table was a pile of magazines. He took a quick check:
Woman’s Weekly, The Land Girl
. No letters, nodiary. Nothing personal. There was one cup with congealing milk in the bottom.
He looked underneath the bed, but there was nothing, not even dust.
There was a soft tap-tapping at the window. A branch from a tree outside was scratching on the window pane. He pushed up the sash and almost laughed out loud. Growing outside was a chestnut tree with wide, big branches, which partially obscured a ladder leaning against the wall. He could have climbed out himself if need be, and he’d bet any money that Elsie, young and agile, would have used this as a special exit if she didn’t want Mrs. Clark to know what she was doing. By the same token, she could have entertained a lover in secret.
He closed the window. That seemed to be that. He collected the cup and went onto the landing. Constable Collis was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, half leaning against the wall, not knowing what to do
He opened the wardrobe door and a sweet flowery scent wafted out. There were four frocks hanging there, all summery, three of them flowered prints, the fourth more elegant in blue and grey striped silk. On the upper shelf sat four wide-brimmed straw hats with ribbons to match the dresses; on the bottom of the wardrobe were her shoes: two white leather slingbacks and one pair of black patent high heels, clearly meant for dancing.
Next, he turned his attention to the dresser. There was a dainty ceramic tray on top of a crocheted runner; a little bag of sweets stood next to a large bottle of scent; beside it, a jar of cream, the label hand-printed with the initials
A.T
. He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. The ubiquitous lavender, or maybe that was all he could smell at the moment. Alice’s oil was potent.
In a matching china dish was Elsie’s makeup. Two lipsticks, both bright red; a silver powder compact; an eyebrow penciland a little pot of rouge. Her war paint. He opened the wooden jewellery box. An ivory hair comb; silver and pearl drop earrings; a pair of plain gold hoops that looked expensive. She also had a silver charm bracelet which clinked when he picked it up to look at it. The usual assembly of charms. Janet had been collecting hers since she was fourteen. Teapot, shoe, horse, cat, her initial. Charms were a popular and easy gift to give a girl. Over the years, she could collect as many as would fit on the bracelet. None of these looked particularly new. No heart with a fake diamond in the centre that might be a special gift from a boyfriend.
He pulled open the top drawer. Here Elsie kept her working clothes, all Land Army issue. Sturdy cotton knickers, wool socks, an extra cream-coloured shirt, green wool pullover, and tie, tossed around as if she dressed in a hurry or didn’t care. The second drawer was very different indeed. An after-hours drawer this one, with everything neatly folded. Silk underwear, lace brassiere; three pair of silk stockings, two still in the package; a pair of cami-knickers in black taffeta. Carefully, he lifted out all of the items and placed them on the bed. Tucked away at the back of the drawer, he discovered an unopened package of prophylactics, stamped with the British Army insignia. Also shoved to the back of the drawer was a box of Cadbury’s chocolates. Two pieces had been eaten already. He wondered why Elsie had hidden the chocolates. In this house she had privacy so she didn’t have to keep them secret, unlike the French letters, which would have shocked Mrs. Clark if she’d even recognized what they were.
He returned everything to the drawer except the condoms, which he put in his pocket. He’d save Mrs. Clark or Elsie’s mother the embarrassment of finding them.
On the bedside table was a pile of magazines. He took a quick check:
Woman’s Weekly, The Land Girl
. No letters, nodiary. Nothing personal. There was one cup with congealing milk in the bottom.
He looked underneath the bed, but there was nothing, not even dust.
There was a soft tap-tapping at the window. A branch from a tree outside was scratching on the window pane. He pushed up the sash and almost laughed out loud. Growing outside was a chestnut tree with wide, big branches, which partially obscured a ladder leaning against the wall. He could have climbed out himself if need be, and he’d bet any money that Elsie, young and agile, would have used this as a special exit if she didn’t want Mrs. Clark to know what she was doing. By the same token, she could have entertained a lover in secret.
He closed the window. That seemed to be that. He collected the cup and went onto the landing. Constable Collis was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, half leaning against the wall, not knowing what to do
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