Midsomer Maiden |1| The Trials of Midsomer

23. Murder on St. Malley's Day

Deep in the heart of Devington School, in the quiet of the small hours, the young men of the Pudding Club were bashing the handles of their spoons against the table. "Answer! Answer! Answer!"

In the centre of the room, Marcus Heywood spread his arms wide, giving his peer an expectant look. "The club demands an answer, Talbot." All around, the other boys quietened, letting the judgement of their silence condemn Daniel Talbot. "Now, have you or have you not been discussing club matters with outsiders?"

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "I'm not answerable to you, Heywood, or anyone else in this room."

"Your first loyalty is to the club, Dan," Marcus reminded him archly. "Maybe you've forgotten that... or maybe you've been spending a little too much time in the village."

Immediately, Daniel tackled him, and the two boys entered into a scuffle that had all their peers cheering and jeering. That is, until the headmaster, Eckersley-Hyde, swept into the room. "Desist!" he roared, and silence fell like the blade of a guillotine. All the boys stood respectfully, bowing their heads. "Good evening, gentlemen. You may be seated. I say 'gentlemen', because that is what members of the Pudding Club should strive to be, no matter how trying the circumstances."

"Sorry, sir," both Daniel and Marcus replied dutifully.

"And the circumstances are particularly trying tonight," Eckersley-Hyde continued, the crack in his voice betraying the emotion his stiff upper lip sought to hide. "As you know, Daniel's grandfather, Sir Walter, is gravely ill. Tonight, he has taken a turn for the worse. Sir Walter is a Pudding Club man and one of our most distinguished old boys, so I ask you all to behave with due propriety." He turned to address the boy himself. "Daniel, I must take you to the Manor immediately."

Daniel nodded, but Marcus' voice stopped him before he could go. "Our thoughts will be with you and your family, Dan. I'm sure I speak for everybody here."

After a tense moment, Daniel shook his hand, maintaining stiff eye contact. "Thank you, Marcus."

***

At the Manor, Daniel and Eckersley-Hyde joined the family in the bedroom of the ailing Sir Walter. "Papa?" asked Daniel's father, Anthony. "Daniel is here to see you."

Daniel went to the dying man's side, watching as his lips moved, betraying no sound. "What is it, Grandad?"

"He wants to know the time," realised Anthony as his father pointed towards the clock on the bedside table.

"It's five past midnight, Grandad."

Stood vigil beside the bed, the family doctor frowned. "Why does he want to know the time?"

"It's after midnight, Doctor, and therefore the feast day of St. Malley, patron saint of Devington School," Eckersley-Hyde explained. "Look. He's smiling."

Anthony followed his father's gaze to the picture on the sideboard, of a young man bursting through the finish line of a race. "Oh, of course. Papa winning the St. Malley's Day Race."

His wife, Miranda, rolled her eyes. "Can't we leave the blasted school out of things for once?"

"Don't worry, Papa," Anthony said, ignoring her. "The race will be run as usual. And Daniel will win it for you, won't you, Daniel?"

The boy hesitated. "I'll do my best, Grandad."

Sir Walter's eyes had slipped closed, and the doctor leaned over him, checking for a pulse. "He can't hear you. I'm sorry, he's gone."

Eckersley-Hyde closed his eyes briefly. "Quid nunc?" He turned to Anthony. "What now?"

But in the face of his father's passing, Anthony had no answer. As usual, his wife stepped up to the plate. "A stiff drink, that's what."