Accidental death

Molly had been betrayed. Now, she was out for revenge

As Molly reached the top of the stairs, she heard raised voices.

Lord Rupert and his wife were arguing again. Thankfully nobody else would hear them, as all the other servants had gone to church.

Lady Ursula' s voice increased in volume. You could at least try to be discreet. People are talking about your friendship' with Mrs Palmer.'

Molly was eager to hear more. There was already gossip about the master and the young widow, but if she didn' t intervene, the argument could escalate.

She didn' t know what she would do if her beloved master was thrown out of the house. They had grown so close over the years.

She straightened her uniform and opened the door.

At that moment, Lord Rupert pushed his wife so hard, she lost her balance and fell to the ground. Her head hit the corner of the marble hearth with a sickening thud.

What have you done?' Molly cried as she ran over to her mistress.

Lord Rupert stared at her, his face as grey as the ashes in the fireplace. We were arguing. I didn' t mean to push her. Is she badly hurt?'

She' s dead,' Molly whispered.

Lord Rupert sank on to the nearest chair. `Are you sure?' Molly nodded dumbly. It was an accident, Molly. I swear it. I never meant to kill her.'

I know. I saw what happened.' She tried to touch his arm, but he moved away.

What am I going to do?' he said.

You must make it look as though a thief did this terrible thing.'

Rupert' s eyes grew wider. That would mean lying to the police.'

Yes, but Lady Ursula is dead.' She paused, giving her words greater impact. Even if the police believe you, think of your reputation. People won' t care about the truth, all they will know is that you killed your wife.'

Lord Rupert stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. You' re right,' he said at last. What should I do?'

Throw her ladyship' s belongings on to the floor and knock over the furniture, as though there' s been a violent struggle. Then go to church as normal.

Say that Lady

Ursula felt unwell and stayed at home.'

Then Molly went over to the dressing table. We must hide her jewellery.'

Where?'

I don' t know, but I' ll think of something.'

You' d better let me do it,' said Lord Rupert. You might decide to run away and keep the jewels for yourself.'

Molly bristled. She was a servant, but that didn' t

By the time the servants returned, the house was in uproar with policemen everywhere

make her dishonest.

If I did that, people would think I killed her. I simply want to hide them. Then when the police question you, you can' t accidentally reveal their whereabouts.' Lord Rupert saw the sense of her argument and set to work, sweeping his wife' s perfume bottles and ornaments on to the floor. Molly turned the portrait of Queen Victoria to the wall, unable to bear her disapproving gaze as she put Lady Ursula' s jewellery into her apron pocket. Then she knelt down and pulled the rings from the dead woman' s fingers. What are you doing?' cried Lord Rupert. `A burglar wouldn' t leave these behind. Now, hurry to church before you are missed.' When he' d gone, Molly turned the Queen' s portrait round again, then ran down the back stairs to the kitchen.

Thanks to her senior position, she had her own room, but the police would be sure to search it. The kitchen, being so much more public, was safer.

Swallowing her panic, she tried to think of a suitable hiding place. Her gaze rested on the large spice cupboard where the expensive herbs were kept locked away.

As housekeeper, Molly was the only servant with a key. She hid the jewels in the cupboard, then checked the time.

She needed to wait a while before raising the alarm, in case Lord Rupert had been seen leaving the house. After 15 minutes, Molly ran out into the street screaming: Help! Police! Help!'

Her cries soon attracted a constable and she grabbed his arm.

My mistress, she' s been murdered!' As soon as she' d pulled him into the house, she slid gracefully to the floor in a pretend faint.

The policeman helped her to a chair, then ran upstairs. When he came back down, his face was white.

Stay there, Miss, while I fetch the sergeant.'

When Lord Rupert came back from church, the police sergeant was there.

I' m sorry, sir. I have bad news,' he said.

When he heard that Lady Ursula was dead, Lord Rupert gasped and ran up the stairs.

Molly hid her smile. Her master was playing his part well.

By the time the servants returned, the house was in uproar with policemen everywhere. The sergeant gathered everyone together in the parlour.

While you were at church, a burglar entered the house,' he said. We think Lady

Ursula must have disturbed him. He struck her down in cold blood.'

The kitchen maid promptly fainted, but the sergeant took no notice and continued his summary.

The thief pulled the rings from Lady Ursula' s dead fingers and escaped with her jewellery.' He turned to Lord Rupert. We will need a description of the stolen items.'

I' m sorry, I can' t help you, Sergeant. My wife' s jewels came from her side of the family. She seldom wore them for fear of tempting thieves,' his voice shook with emotion. I could describe some of the brooches, the rest¼' his voice faded away.

If Molly hadn' t known otherwise, she would have thought him genuinely upset.

Three days passed before she dared to visit Lord

Rupert in his room. But when she finally ran to him, he pushed her away.

Don' t touch me!' he said brusquely.

Molly' s head reeled. What do you mean?'

Your services are no longer required.' The coldness of his eyes chilled her blood. I have no time for housekeepers any more. I have other plans.'

She stared at him, not wanting to believe what she heard. But, Rupert, you promised, you said¼'

He cut her off. I promised you nothing. You have one week to leave my house.'

Then I have no choice,' Molly spoke with a confidence she did not feel. I will tell the police what really happened. You forget, I know where Lady Ursula' s jewels are hidden.'

Lord Rupert' s eyes darkened. So that' s your game, is it?' He strode over to his desk, opened a drawer and handed her £50. Then take this money. Now, where are my wife' s jewels?'

I want more than that. I want £500.' Molly' s heart was pounding. It was more money than she could earn in 10 years.

Her master' s thin lips curved into a smile. Very well. It will be worth it to be rid of you. I' ll go to the bank, and then you can bring the jewels to

my study. Now get out of my sight.'

Molly struggled to hold back her tears. She' d been stupid enough to believe him when he' d said he loved her. All those stolen hours had meant nothing to him.

She shut herself in her room until she felt more composed, then went downstairs to tell the other servants she was leaving.

I cannot stay here,' she explained, wiping away tears. Everywhere I look, I see my poor dead mistress, her head covered in blood.'

As expected, her story was accepted as true. For the next two days, she went about her duties in a state of numbed shock.

When at last it was time to collect the money, she went to Lord Rupert' s study and knocked on the door.

Come in.' He didn' t turn round as she entered. Your money is on the table. Now leave the jewels and go.'

She picked up the bundle of notes, then waited until Rupert turned to face her.

Why are you still here? Where are the jewels?'

They' re still hidden away. I wanted to make sure you really had got the money for me.'

His laugh was bitter. So, you' re not so foolish after all. Where are they?'

They' re locked in the spice cupboard.' She put the key on the table. It will be safe for you to collect them once the servants have gone to bed. What will you do with the jewels?'

My wife was older than me. Her family are all dead. Nobody knows what most of the jewels look like.' He smiled. I shall keep one or two pieces and give them to the widow Palmer as an engagement present. We are to be married as soon as I am out of mourning.'

Without warning, he grabbed hold of Molly' s waist and pressed his lips against hers. She slapped his face and ran from the room, his laughter ringing in her ears.

Later, when the servants were in bed, Lord Rupert went down to the kitchen. He placed his candle on the table and opened the door of the spice cupboard.

At that moment the larder door crashed open, and before he could react, a police constable had grabbed his arm.

Molly emerged from the shadows, followed closely by the police sergeant.

Lord Rupert, I am arresting you for the murder of your wife.'

I didn' t do it!' he protested. Ask Molly.'

We did, she told us everything how you argued with Lady Ursula and killed her. How you tried to make it look like a burglary and got Molly to hide the jewels.'

All right, I did kill my wife, but it was an accident. Making it look like a robbery was Molly' s idea. I can prove it. She blackmailed me check her room and you' ll find the money.'

The sergeant produced a roll of notes and showed them to

Lord Rupert. Molly told us about the money and how you tried to pay for her silence.'

Behind him, Molly sobbed loudly. My poor mistress. He killed her and then he¼'

She broke down and would have fallen to the floor in a faint if the sergeant hadn' t caught her.

Constable, take Lord Rupert to the police station. I will join you later.'

When they were alone, the sergeant gave Molly the £500. Use it to make a fresh start. His Lordship has no need of money where he' s going.'

But this is a fortune!' she protested. I can' t take this.'

You must,' he said softly. You' ll find it hard to gain employment again after betraying your master.'

Molly thanked him for his kindness as she crumpled on to a chair. This is all such a terrible shock,' she said.

What will you do?' the sergeant asked her.

I have relatives in Ireland. I could always go there.'

Well good luck, Miss.

You did the right thing. His Lordship will hang for this.'

Early the next morning, Molly stepped out into the autumn sunshine just as a cab turned into the street. She hailed it. She had money now and didn' t have to walk.

The driver lifted her luggage into the carriage and asked: Where to, Miss?'

The docks, thank you.' As she stepped inside, her heart was heavy. She would never see her friends or her beloved Liverpool again.

When the cab began to move, she took Lady Ursula' s wedding band from her bag, and pushed it on to her finger. From now on, she would be Mrs Kavanagh, a 32-year-old widow, whose husband had been killed, fighting alongside General Gordon in the Sudan.

Without warning he grabbed hold of MollyÕ s waist and pressed his lips against hers

Molly reached into her bag. The diamonds and rubies felt hard and cold against her skin. As far as the police were concerned, Lady Ursula' s jewels had been recovered.

The pieces she' d taken from the spice cupboard were hers to do with as she wished.

She had no intention of going to Ireland. If, as she suspected, she was carrying Rupert' s baby, it would be better for both of them if the child was born in America. As the carriage approached the docks, she allowed herself the faintest of smiles.

Whatever happened in the future, never again would she call any man her master.

Number 25 scared me silly. When I started my cleaning business, I' d imagined leaving nothing but gleaming chrome and shiny floors behind.

I' d envisaged home owners recommending me to their friends: Abby' s the most amazing cleaning lady. The place looks like a showhome. Give her a ring sometime!'

I' d never imagined this scenario the elegant, detached house on the corner of Lewis Street left me reeling.

I' d leafleted the place to begin with, and John the owner sounded nice enough when he called in response.

I need somebody to come in and give the house a good scrub every fortnight. It gets neglected now there' s only me here. Would you be interested at all?'

I couldn' t say yes fast enough.

It was a lovely house with a modern kitchen, three bedrooms, one bathroom, one shower room and a downstairs loo. It was large for a man living alone, but John did mention in his email that his grown-up children sometimes visited.

He' d also given me the code to his key safe on the wall, so I could let myself in.

The first day I cleaned, I had no problems apart from the dirt-streaked skirting boards and dust bunnies galore.

I emailed John in the evening from my flat.

Hi, I hope you're h appy with my work? Any problems, let me know.

His returning email only took a minute to arrive.

The place looks amazing. Thanks so much!

Propped up on my sofa, my shoulders aching after a day of polishing and vacuuming, I smiled to myself.

This little venture might take off yet, I thought. You'l l be selling your old car next and buying a company van.

A fortnight later I returned to number 25.

I started work at the sink where John had left a few dirty dishes. I washed a tumbler, but like a wet fish, it jumped out of my hands.

It landed on the kitchen floor with a crash. Shards of glass spun across the tiles.

I' m such an idiot!' I told the empty house.

I' d never broken anything before, though the odds were stacked against me, considering how many things I had to move to dust or scrub beneath them.

That evening, back at my place, I confessed via another email. I couldn' t face a phone call and a text felt too informal.

So sorry John, I wrote. I had an accident cleaning today. I broke a glass. I'v e left the money on the kitchen table. If it costs any more than that to replace, please let me know.

Again his reply came shooting back.

It wasn't cut crystal, he reasoned. And accidents happen. I don't expect you to pay. I'l l return the money the next time you call in.

Lounging again on my sofa, I couldn' t help but smile. He was such a lovely man!

When I lived with my ex, if anything went wrong, he' d always blame me.

Accidents didn' t exist in his universe. If they had, he' d have lost a good excuse to start a row.

Another fortnight sped by in a flurry of mopping and dusting, and I returned to number 25.

You learn a lot about someone when you' re flicking a duster around a customer' s house.

I discovered from his photos that John, who I' d still never met, was a rather attractive man with dark hair, and twinkling blue eyes.

He worshipped a lady with long dark hair. The place was plastered with her photos. Cards stood around too there was a

Valentine' s card smothered in red roses, and a birthday greeting covered in balloons.

They were all signed by Amanda and she' d added a dozen kisses.

Who are you then?' I asked her photo in the lounge

Are you

You learn a lot about someone when youÕ re flicking a duster around a customerÕ s house

new on the scene?'

I flitted my ostrich-feather duster over the cabinet where a pair of plump candles guarded her frame like overweight soldiers.

Then, blow me down, if the one on the end didn' t slide right off. It struck the skirting with a clank and broke in two.

How did you break something that big? I scolded myself.

Embarrassed, I dispatched one more confession when I got home that evening.

John replied instantly.

Hi, it's fine. It's not as if you destroyed a family heirloom. I pick up those candles for a few pounds. Don't worry about it. The place looks wonderful.

Isn' t he fabulous?' I said to myself from my usual spot on the sofa.

Thanks for saying that, I replied. You're v ery kind.

Then my brow furrowed as I wondered what I' d break next. A valuable ornament perhaps?

No, no! That's not going to happen. Just be extra careful.

More homage to Amanda appeared during clean number four.

A new photo stood on the oak cabinet in the lounge. Next to it lay a note.

I did look¼ Well, I had to pick it up to dust underneath it anyway. I know you didn't like this picture but I think you look amazing. John had written. It's six years since I lost you now. I'l l love you forever, I promise. John xxx.

In this picture, Amanda wore a fluffy dressing gown and she was sitting in a hospital bed. With sunken cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, she looked exhausted, yet still she smiled for his sake. Oh no. You' re dead!'

As I said the words, the hairs on my arms stood on end. I was sure I could sense somebody behind me.

Stop it! That' s just your imagination,' I said to myself as I whirled about. See, there' s nobody there.'

I flicked my duster over the photo and kept my head down. I dusted the rest of the room at speed and then fled upstairs.

In the bathroom, I swear I wasn' t standing anywhere near the medicine cabinet, when a bottle of perfume swan-dived into the sink.

I stood glued to the spot as a sweet smell leaked from its broken sides. There hadn' t been an earthquake, and no big lorries had rumbled by.

Are you there?' I asked the empty air. Look, I' m not a threat, you know. I' m not after your man, honest. I' m only here to clean¼ I mean, I' m sure he' s lovely, but we' ve never even met in the flesh. This is ridiculous!'

The hairs rose on my arms again and my heart seemed to want to escape from my

Who are you,then?Õ I asked her photo in the lounge.ÔAre you new on the scene?Õ

chest as I turned and rushed out. Even on the landing I couldn' t escape the feeling of being watched.

I still needed to finish the house. The idea didn' t thrill me neither did the knowledge I' d have to send poor John yet another email.

There's nothing expensive in the house, he reassured me that evening. Anything I had of value belonged to Amanda, and it' s all safely packed away.

He didn' t explain any further. I doubt he' d have told me what I needed to know about his wife anyway, and it' s not as if I could send a questionnaire.

Did Amanda have possessive tendencies? If any woman came too close, however unlikely a threat, did she lose her cool and throw things?

I had a fiancé who was the same way once, which is why I prefer to live alone.

Just carry on cleaning,

John advised on screen. The house looks great.

Yes, I'l l do that, I replied. Then one day you'l l come home and the place will be nothing but rubble.

He sent back a string of laughing emojis that made me smile.

I'l l leave your money out in a fortnight's time as usual, he wrote. He added one more emoji, only this character was praying or was it pleading? Either way, John had done enough to persuade me to continue.

On visit number five, I marched into the kitchen and squared my feet.

Right then, Amanda. No more accidents, OK? I' m only interested in hoovering, dusting and mopping. Now let me get on with it.'

I set to work and things went well. Nothing slipped, nothing crashed and nothing swan-dived. I thought we' d reached an understanding until I cleaned the bedroom.

I polished all the photos on the wall of John and his family, keeping a death-grip on every single one. All done, I turned away.

That' s when one picture rattled on its hook. It hit the carpet and glass splintered. Guess who smiled out of the frame?

I picked Amanda up and stared into her sharp grey eyes.

Fine, you win. I quit! I can' t do this any more. My nerves are shot. You' re a very nasty woman. I needed this job. I' m just starting out on my own in more ways than one.' I decided to depart right away and left John a note.

Hi. I haven't cleaned today, so I'v e left my money plus a little extra. You'l l need it for the picture I broke. I don't think this job is for me. I suggest you look for somebody else maybe a man? Sorry. Bye. Shakespeare would have winced, but I decided it' d do. I drove home feeling relieved, yet also defeated.

That evening I used all my usual cure-alls for a bad day. I soaked in a hot bath, drank a little wine and ordered a pizza. When it arrived, I buzzed the delivery man in.

But as I opened the door, two familiar sparkling blue eyes blinked at me.

I' m John,' he said.

It wasn' t my pizza at all. Yes, I er¼ recognise you from your photos.'

Of course you do. I didn' t think of that! I just wanted to see if I could persuade you to carry on cleaning my house.'

He's so nice, I thought. Even so, I shivered. No, sorry, I can' t. Your place it¼ it makes me nervous.'

Oh, I see. Friends have mentioned that before. It is a bit of a shrine, isn' t it? Amanda would be so angry with me it' s the last thing she wanted. She always said: Have fun when I' m gone. Don' t mope about. Find somebody else.º She told me that a lifetime ago now.'

I' d imagined his wife as the clingy, jealous type, which is why I stood frowning. Did her wrecking spree have another goal then? After all, she' d made John prove time and time again how kind and forgiving he could be.

It' s almost as if she' d known about my ex. He' d yell over the pettiest things. Forget glasses and photo frames he' d preferred to shatter me into a million pieces.

Did ghosts matchmake or had I simply imagined the whole thing?

Hello, can you hear me?' John wore a quizzical expression.

Oh, sorry, I was miles away. Thinking.'

Well at least you' re honest. Amanda was the same.' His blue-eyed gaze turned a little cloudy. I need to tidy her away a little more, don' t I? I need a place for the future, not the past.'

I do offer a service that helps people to declutter,' I ventured. I know it can be very emotional.'

He nodded. How about we schedule a date when I' m at home?'

He looked at me for a second too long, and I have to admit I kept looking at him.

How about tomorrow?' I asked as I blushed.

Number 25 didn' t scare me any more. I still wasn' t sure I believed in ghosts, but I was sure of one thing.

Life' s little mishaps tell you a great deal about people.

So when another comes along and surprises you, I told myself, Don't be your ex. Don't rant. Don't rave. Be forgiving.

Be as kind to yourself as

J ohn.

IÕ ve left my money plus a little extra. YouÕ ll need it for the picture I broke. I donÕ t think this job is for me