The Tenant

 

Ethel Lucas and Gladys Dorrington were in the habit of meeting every Wednesday for Morning Tea at Mrs Howard’s Tearooms in the High Street.  It was an indulgence, they admitted, but Mrs Howard’s scones were light and fluffy and since both ladies were widowed and each with a little nest egg in the bank, they didn’t see any harm in it.  After all, it was 1910 and Britannia ruled the waves, as the Prime Minister delighted in quoting.  If they couldn’t enjoy a bought cup of tea from time to time, what was life about.

Usually, they found lots to talk about. Mrs Lucas’s children were all grown up and had moved away to homes of their own but they kept in touch with their mother and there were always stories about their children that filled in most of the morning.  Mr and Mrs Dorrington had never been blessed with children so Mrs Dorrington played the role of audience.  However, she was genuinely interested in the exploits of Mrs Lucas’s grandchildren and listened to the stories with pleasure; sometimes, though, she wished she might have something interesting of her own to add to the conversation.

One Wednesday, Mrs Lucas was surprised to see Mrs Dorrington arriving for their regular meeting with an unexpected gleam in her eye.

“I have some news,” she burst out. “I’ve found a new tenant for my mother’s cottage.  He’s an American doctor and he and his wife are moving in today.”

“That’s wonderful news,” said Mrs Lucas. “It was a shame to see such a lovely cottage with no-one living in it.”

Over the next few weeks, Mrs Dorrington was able to report on the comings and goings of her tenants.  He had a new job, she seemed to be interested in the theatre, and so on.  One day, Mrs Dorrington was agog with news: her tenant had told her his wife had gone back to America, leaving him behind.  Mrs Dorrington surmised that one of the theatrical friends – a man – was travelling with her.  That sort of gossip was very rare in this respectable part of London and Mrs Dorrington was clearly enjoying the chance to talk about it.  She was also wondering whether she should ask her tenant to leave as it seemed he wasn’t quite as respectable as he had at first appeared, but Mrs Lucas was more circumspect.

“You can’t blame him for his wife’s actions,” she advised Mrs Dorrington. “And he is a doctor after all.”

A few weeks later, Mrs Dorrington seemed quite shaken when she arrived at Mrs Howard’s. 

“A young woman has moved into the cottage with the doctor,” she stammered. “He says that she’s his niece but she’s not American.  She talks with an East London accent.  If she’s his niece, then I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

“What are you going to do? asked Mrs Lucas. 

“I’m going to give him a week’s notice.  I’m a respectable woman and my late mother would be mortified if she thought there were any shenanigans going on in her cottage.”

By the following Wednesday, Mrs Lucas couldn’t wait to hear the latest news from her friend.  She wasn’t disappointed.

“They’ve gone,” said Mrs Dorrington.  “Just up and went in the middle of the night. And the police were around looking for them.  I don’t know what’s going on; he seemed to be so respectable.  But, you can’t be sure with Americans, can you?”

Mrs Lucas didn’t have to wait until Wednesday to hear the latest piece of information about Mrs Dorrington’s tenant.  Mrs Dorrington herself came around to Mrs Lucas’s house on Sunday afternoon to tell her friend the shocking news that a team of policemen had arrived at the cottage with shovels and pickaxes and were digging up her cellar?

“What are they looking for?” Mrs Lucas asked. 

“I don’t know.  They wouldn’t tell me anything,” Mrs Dorrington wailed.  “But it might be a body!  Dr Crippen seemed such a nice man, too.”

Over the next few days, Mrs Dorrington had her worst fears realised.  The remains of Mrs Crippen were, indeed, found buried in the foundations of her mother’s house.  Dr Crippen and his ‘niece’ had fled to France where they took passage on a ship bound for Montreal but, through the magic of Mr Marconi’s new telegraph messaging system, a message was sent ahead, and the murderer and his accomplice were arrested when they arrived.  They had been charged and Dr Crippen was likely to receive the death penalty.

Mrs Dorrington was pleased that her brush with a murderer had a satisfactory ending and she was also secretly pleased that her friend, Ethel Lucas, had never had anything as remotely interesting as that to talk about.