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Murder she wrought TWO

Second witness: the girl

By Raymond G. TaylorPublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 4 min read
Image design by the author using Dall-E 3

Dearest Ethel,

I can’t tell you how happy I have been. I know you don’t approve, him being a married man, but Ernest has been so sweet to me.

Read Murder She Wrought: part one

It started in all innocence. He caught me crying in the pantry one day. Heaven knows what he was doing downstairs but I suppose, as the master of the house, he may do as he pleases.

I say master but I wonder, sometimes, who wears the trousers. The mistress can be a real tyrant and even threatened to beat me at one time, when I answered her back. I didn’t stand for it. Gave her such a look she thought better of it.

Anyway, he caught me sobbing, so he did. Asked me what the matter was and put an arm around me, all fatherly like. Although he’s nothing like my beast of a father, thank goodness.

He listened to me like no man has ever listened to me before. I told him how mother was unwell and father had run off and left us with not two farthns to rub together.

All the time he just stood there listening. Just listening as I blathered on with my tale of woe. Then, do you know what he did, Ethel? He took my hand so he did. Took my hand, as bold as you please. I wasn’t in the least put out by it. He didn’t try anything, you know, like you’d expect a man of his position to do. He just held my hand like he was holding the hand of the Blessed Virgin.

Then, without saying a word, he kissed me. Kissed me he did. Not on the cheek and for certain not on the lips. He kissed me on the forehead. So gentle it might never have happened. He might have been kissing his maiden aunt. Then he was gone. I don’t mind telling you, Ethel I was all of a fluster. I felt weak at the knees and my heart was doing a tattoo like the drums of the Scotts Guard. He could have had me there and then if he wanted but he didn’t put a finger on me. He was too much the gentleman. A perfect gentleman like that. What a waste! That harpy of a wife of his thinks more about her books than she does about looking after her husband.

That's when it started, Ethel. His little visits. When his wife was in her study doing who knows what. Probably working on one of those books she writes. Writes about murders and all sorts of goings on, she does. I am not sure that is a suitable way for a lady to spend her time but she doesn't care. The first time I didn't realise he had been there until I picked up my apron from the hook on the back of the kitchen. As I put it on I felt something heavy bump against my thigh. When I put my hand in the front pocket what did I discovered but a silver half crown. Imagine what you can do with all that money.

I tried to give it back to him the following day when he came down, asking about supper. It was just an excuse of course as he could have just rung down for me.

"No," he says "You keep it and buy some medicine for your mother. And you must tell me if you need any more." Then he was gone again before I could thank him.

Then he would visit me from time to time and ask me about my mother or how we were getting on without father. Then one day he was all quiet, kind of sad looking, so this time I reached out and took his hand and gave it a little squeeze, just to cheer him up like. Then he squeezes mine back and then one thing led to another and, before you know it...

Well you can guess what happened. At first I said "No, we mustn't but, well. He had this way about him." Anyway before long he was admitting he was unhappy with Mrs Christie and we got to talking about how wonderful it would be if we could ran off together and, before I knew it, he was telling me we could go away. Run off and go far away. He had some money of his own he could bring and we wouldn't be well off but we would manage.

Tonight's the night, Ethel my dearest friend. Tonight is the night we run off. I am to wait with my coat on and my packing case (which is small enough in all conscience) and he will come to me and take me away.

Must go now. There’s a knock at the door. It will be Ernest, for sure. I know it is madness but we must be together, now. Even if we had no money, Ernest will provide for us and we will find somewhere far away where we can declare our love to the world.

Yours truly...

“Just coming my love…

"What? Mrs Christie? Why are you here… Wait… NO! DON’T…"

O ~ 0 ~ o ~

Read: Murder she wrought part 3

O ~ 0 ~ o ~

Mystery

About the Creator

Raymond G. Taylor

Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  3. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  1. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  2. On-point and relevant

    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (4)

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  • John Coxabout a year ago

    Spitefully delicious, Ray! Great stuff!

  • Testabout a year ago

    This is so compelling. I love the writing tone and the characterization. I hope there is a part 3 with that ending though! :)

  • Mark Grahamabout a year ago

    Quite the letter full of clues in a way that leads to this end. Love the ending what happens next. I think I know but not sure.

  • Oh my, I loveeeeee this POV! I enjoyed reading this immensely!

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