Connie's Secret: The True Story of a Shocking Murder and a Family Mystery at a Time When Appearances Were Everything
280
Connie's Secret: The True Story of a Shocking Murder and a Family Mystery at a Time When Appearances Were Everything
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781741765885 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Allen & Unwin Pty., Limited |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2008 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 280 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
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Read an Excerpt
Connie's Secret
The True Story Of A Shocking Murder and a Family Mystery at a Time When Appearances Were Everything
By Anne Lovell
Allen & Unwin
Copyright © 2008 Anne LovellAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-74176-588-5
CHAPTER 1
4 FEBRUARY 1939
It is past midnight.
She listens to an unsteady tread making its way down the hallway, bumping walls as it advances.
He stumbles into her room without knocking.
"S'your aspirin,' he slurs, throwing the powders onto her dressing table.
'Thanks.'
He comes towards her bed. Connie draws back into pillows resting against her bed head, her eyes filling with fear.
'You loo' korgeous.'
'You'd better go.'
'You're pretty. You must've 'eaps of fellas!'
'Go! Or I'll call Eric!'
'Just a little kiss: a tanks for the 'spirin.'
'Thanks,' she says abruptly, her voice rising. 'Now go!'
As he comes closer she withdraws more deeply into her pillows.
'Come on sweetie, it'll do ya good.'
'Go away! Eric! Eric! Help!' Her screams vibrate from the walls.
He grabs her in his arms, wrenching her from the pillows. She fights, pushing with all her might against his taut body. An absurd picture of a dragon blowing fire from its nostrils flashes into her mind.
'Help! HEL ...' A hand fiercely punches into her face, bruising and breaking the surface of her nose, her lips, her cheeks, stinging her eyes. Her dentures fly from her mouth and onto the floor.
The rough hand clamps her mouth. Another hand pulls wildly at her nightdress, tearing the thin fabric. Alcoholic fumes spray her face and the pillows. She hammers her clenched fists into his face.
He retaliates. He runs his sharp nails across her neck and right down her arms. Blood flows.
'Eric!' She screams as her mouth is slapped shut.
A sudden rush of adrenalin gives her the strength to raise her legs and push violently against his inebriated body. He reels backwards, falling to the ground with a tremendous crash.
He is furious. His face turns an ugly red as a burst of fiery breath erupts from his opened mouth. His eyes are smouldering in an impassioned frenzy.
'I'll fix youse!' he yells. Angrily he picks himself up, knocking heavily against both the wardrobe and bedside table. The oil lamp crashes to the floor, glass splintering in all directions. He crushes Connie's dentures underfoot as he goes charging off down the hallway, out the side door. He misses the bottom step as he staggers out into the yard towards the woodpile. The axe stands in its customary place, wedged tightly in the chopping block. He grabs it.
I'll teach 'em!
Connie lies on her dishevelled bed, sobbing, bleeding. Paralysed by fear, she neither moves nor calls again for help. Through heavy, largely silent sobs, she is praying that her attacker has left. But then she hears heavy footsteps echoing up the hallway. Adrenalin invades her frozen limbs. She leaps from the bed. Her shredded nightdress falls easily to the floor and she wraps herself in a light green gown. As though she is drowning, images of loved ones flash before her. Terrified, she stumbles towards the side verandah to rouse Eric.
Her attacker bursts into the hallway wielding the axe. She turns, running towards the door into the dining room. With the axe held high, he lurches after her. At his first swipe, the blade misses her and digs deeply into the wall of the passageway. Screams leap from her throat — piercing, terrified screams. Her awareness of imminent death increases their volume — she's screaming for Eric, for help, for her life, for ...
The walls vibrate. Behind her, with manic strength he raises the axe high above her head.
Smash! The axe penetrates deeply, dividing her skull. Cursing wildly, he angrily wrenches it free and brings it down again with thunderous intensity.
Smash! Her neck opens, with a gash that runs deep into her chest. In quick succession blows destroy an eye, annihilate an ear. Powerful fountains of blood spray the ceiling, the walls, the carpet and her attacker.
She falls backwards, faceless, as he brings down the axe for the last time. Removing her gold ring with its cluster of diamonds, he leaves her: lifeless, brutally butchered. Blood pours from her body's gaping wounds. The only noises he can hear are his madly thumping heart and his heavy, cumbersome feet.
CHAPTER 2South of Tenterfield, a young woman stood, feet firmly planted, on an empty station platform. Her eyes were restless, darting down the line, watching for the faint curl of smoke that would herald the 4 am train.
'On time,' the porter told her. She'd arrived early, afraid to miss the connection.
The pre-dawn light etched the soft charcoal outline of the station's serrated wooden eaves. The porter rolled his trolley from the parcel office, stacked high with boxes to be loaded onto the train. A car door banged and two men dressed in overalls strolled onto the platform. In the distance shapes of trees emerged as the darkness faded. A light shone from the stationmaster's cottage, a dog barked. Then from somewhere the reassuring crow of a rooster mimicked the whistle of the train from Sydney. A voice over the loudspeaker advised passengers wanting to stop at any of the smaller stations between Glen Innes and Tenterfield to tell the guard on the train when he came through to inspect their tickets.
Dulce swung her small leather case and hatbox into a carriage doorway and quickly climbed on board. The seat she'd booked was next to the sliding door opening onto the corridor but, as the compartment was empty, she chose to nestle herself beside the window.
Regaining speed, the train chugged over the high country of the Northern Tablelands peppered with its curving hills and gullies. Towards Tenterfield rocks bared themselves, contours became sharper and the train twisted its way around the steeper slopes that doubled as lookout towers for fleeing kangaroos, dingoes and wallabies. Once, in the days before rail, bushrangers like the notorious Thunderbolt had used the rocks as hideouts and vantage points to swoop on passing carriages. She loved returning to the Tablelands, to her family's property and large rambling farmhouse of Hillcrest. Out west, in Coonabarabran where she worked as a nurse, she often missed this country that gave birth to fledgling streams, their fresh, revitalising water flowing east and west to become the source of major rivers. She liked the cool, bracing climate that encouraged her to rug up and move briskly during the winter months.
She had made the journey many times before and was usually a keen window watcher, but this time she saw nothing, nor did she smell the soot flying through the opened window in the corridor. Her mind was already at the farm, thinking of her older sister Connie and younger brother Eric. She knew it was apple season and they'd probably be busy, but she'd be happy to pitch in and help for a day or two; it would be a welcome change from the hospital. Anyway, curiosity consumed her. She had spent the night with her mother and younger sister Nancy in Glen Innes and, while Nancy prepared the evening meal, her mother hinted that Connie was harbouring a secret she was not at liberty to share.
Connie, as the second child of thirteen, had a certain status in their family and Dulce treasured fond memories of her. Connie had cared for Dulce when she was a baby; had held her hand as she began to walk; had taught her to sing as she grew older. She'd placed a strip of heated flannel around her neck when she had croup or a sore throat. She'd given her a teaspoon of vinegar to cure her hiccoughs and gently rubbed in the perfumed camphor liniment to relieve burns or chapped hands. Connie had been almost a second mother to her.
The hint of mystery, maybe even intrigue, excited Dulce. She stood, swaying a little with the train as she reached for the water jug resting in its brass fixture between the windows. Lifting a tumbler from its bracket, she noticed a brightly coloured, blue-green Christmas beetle lying belly-up in the bottom of the glass.
Aden, her brother-in-law, was waiting as the train drew into Tenterfield just after six. She was ten when he had married her sister Edna and he felt more like another brother.
'I see you're still smelling of roses,' he said, admiring the bright yellow flowers sprinkled across her dress. 'Is this all your luggage?'
'Yes, I'm due back nursing within a week.' She handed him the small suitcase and hatbox as she skipped ahead.
During the short drive to their house in the town, Aden assured her she had plenty of time to enjoy breakfast with Edna and the family, as the service car that would take her to the farm didn't leave until after eight.
'You know how to look after a girl,' Dulce said, as she settled back into her seat.
'Connie's looking forward to seeing you,' he continued. 'Edna spoke to her last evening. Pity you missed Aud though. They saw her off yesterday. You'll miss Beverley and Keith too; they're away this weekend.'
'What a shame, I love seeing your family but I'm glad you've saved two for me. It's a pity to miss Audrey, too. I haven't seen her for a couple of years. She'll be twenty-one soon. No longer the baby sister!'
'That's the trouble with you young 'uns — scattered here, there and everywhere. Find yourself a husband and settle down, Dulce. You're a good-lookin' girl!'
Edna was waiting at the gate as Aden pulled into the driveway. She stretched out her ample arms, embracing Dulce tenderly as she stepped onto the grass, saying, 'It's so good to see you,' before taking her hand and leading her through the house to the breakfast room where she'd laid out places for five.
Dulce saw that her nine-year-old nephew Dan and eleven-year-old niece Jenny were already seated, but they eagerly jumped up to greet her. She stood tall in their eyes. She kissed them warmly before turning towards Edna, who'd re-entered the room carrying a tray laden with hot tea and toast.
'Mum tells me you have a nice friend ... Ian?' Edna asked once they had all got stuck into the food; she liked to take a very maternal interest in the romances of her younger brothers and sisters.
Dulce blushed. While Ian had taken her out several times, she was unsure of his intentions.
'It's special then?' Edna leaned forward and patted her approvingly on the arm.
Dulce shifted uncomfortably. 'Not yet,' she said, looking towards the door as though wanting to make her escape.
'Are you getting married?' asked Jenny, springing to her feet and coming straight to the point.
'No, dear ...'
Edna began clearing away the breakfast plates while the children, surrendering the idea of imminent romance, raced to the door. They were determined to accompany their father when he drove Dulce to the post office where she would join the service car as it collected mail for outlying properties.
'Come back soon,' they called as she climbed into the big black Ford. Four other people were already on board but she was lucky to have a seat by the window. The driver closed the door behind her and piled several large parcels onto the running board, roping them securely in place.
Orchards of trees hung low with ripening apples and pears as the town receded into the distance. Farmers in long wellington boots were hosing out their dairies, while their cows, mainly Guernseys, or an occasional Friesian, grazed on paddocks nearby. Normally days were warm at this time of year but as the car bumped along the uneven road surface, it was already unpleasantly hot inside. Dulce though was unaware of the rising temperature; she was too absorbed in hatching solutions to Connie's secret. Connie had not been mentioned over breakfast even though Dulce guessed that Edna would know.
They stopped several times for the driver to offload parcels and letters into large mailboxes that stood on stilts next to the road. A woman with two small boys — twins perhaps, thought Dulce — stood waiting for the car by a farm gate. As the young family climbed on board, they lowered the seats facing her and the other passengers. Though she smiled absently, she paid them little attention.
Perhaps Connie's found a secret lover? She's about to be married? Maybe she's had a fabulous offer to play in a concert? ... No, our mother is worried. She's contracted some dreadful disease? Startled by shifting shadows from roadside trees, Dulce felt a shiver slide down her spine, causing her to whisper anxiously, Are you all right, Connie? The young children sitting opposite looked up to see her lips moving and eyed her curiously.
Her sense of foreboding evaporated as the car crossed the crest of a hill and she glimpsed at last the family homestead in the distance. Excitedly she leaned forward, eager to see Connie and Eric, who would be waiting. Reaching for her hatbox, she looked towards the driver.
'We'll be there soon,' he reassured her as they passed the cowshed, and the car filled with the sound of grinding gears. Up a long driveway stood Hillcrest with its commanding view of the surrounding countryside. The driver slid slowly from his seat, careful not to disturb the remaining parcels. He went to the boot to find Dulce's bag and to collect the bundle of letters and packets addressed to the Sommerlads.
'Can you manage all of this?' he asked as the children and other passengers watched with interest.
'Yes, thank you,' said Dulce politely, balancing bags and parcels.
'Look after yourself,' he called as he drove off, a column of dust beginning to rise as the car gathered speed.
Dulce looked around, taking in the beauty of her former home. She breathed in the sweet perfume of ripening apples and smiled as she walked up the driveway, peering through the fence to see if anyone was busy picking. No one was there. Turning again towards the house she expected at least to hear the footsteps of Connie and Eric running down the path towards her, but the only sound was the shrill of crickets. The door remained closed.
This wasn't like her family! Gazing towards the dairy, she caught sight of cows, their udders bulging, waddling up the rise separating the dairy from the homestead. They mooed forlornly in their distress, but nobody heeded.
She looked anxiously at her watch. It was half past eight. The dogs that normally raced up to nip the heels of visitors remained near the house cowering, their heads down. Gripped by fear, she called out shakily.
'Connie? Eric? I'm here. Where's the welcoming party?' But she heard only the mournful lowing of the untended cows.
'I'm here: where are you?' she called more shrilly.
Nobody came.
The silence was unnerving. She walked up the stairs onto the front verandah, but was reluctant to try the door. Something was wrong. She left her bags and the mail there and instead made her way down the side of the house, circling the large water tank stand, and threading through piles of wooden fruit cases before reaching the back garden. It was equally deserted. Filled with fear, she returned to the front of the house. Recalling her eerie experience in the car, she had a strong urge to run back down the driveway; instead, with her heart racing, she pushed open the door and peered inside.
A figure lay sprawled on the floor some distance down the hallway. Dulce started to run towards it, thinking there must have been an accident, but drew up in horror. It was Connie, lying shrouded in thick, drying blood.
'Eric! Eric! Where are you, Eric?' Dulce screamed, rushing towards the side verandah where she saw two beds, one stripped bare, its mattress flung clumsily on top of the mattress on the other bed. There seemed to be someone lying between them.
There was blood on the floor. Cautiously she lifted the top mattress and discovered Eric's battered, unmoving body. She dropped the mattress in terror and ran screaming down the hallway past the bloodstained walls towards the phone that hung on the wall in the office.
Clumsily she unhitched the trumpet-shaped earpiece from its cradle and furiously rotated the crank handle. When she heard someone pick up at the other end she screamed hysterically into the mouthpiece grille on the front of the phone box.
'There's blood everywhere! Police! Murder! Come quick! It's Dulce! Hillcrest!' 'Are you calling from Hillcrest?' asked a voice. It was Mrs Graham, the exchange operator.
'They're dead — Police! Help me!'
'Take it slowly, dear ... You think someone is murdered ... Who is murdered?' 'Connie! Eric!'
'Are you alone? Is anyone there?'
Dulce's body froze. She hadn't thought that the murderer might still be lurking in one of the rooms. Perspiring profusely, her eyes and ears on full alert, she strained to detect even the slightest sound or movement. But everything, except her breathing, was deathly quiet and still, until she heard a man's voice shouting through the earpiece: 'Police here.'
She screamed again into the grille: 'Help me!'
Dulce dropped the earpiece, leaving the cord dangling down the wall. She stumbled back to the side verandah in time to hear Eric moaning for his brother Frank. He's alive!
'Eric, it's me, Dulce. Hang on, darling. Don't die. I'm getting help!' She removed the mattress that was on top of him and flew back inside to crank the phone handle again. When she heard Mrs Graham on the other end, she cried desperately: 'An ambulance! Eric's alive!'
Unwittingly she was drawn back to the doorway into the dining room. Could Connie be alive too? She gasped as she recognised the green dressing gown now in tatters, given as a present one Christmas. It covered little of Connie's naked body. Slowly she willed her eyes to look at Connie's face, but she shrank back as she did so; much of it lay splattered across the floor.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Connie's Secret by Anne Lovell. Copyright © 2008 Anne Lovell. Excerpted by permission of Allen & Unwin.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Author's note,Acknowledgements,
Sommerlad family,
Prologue,
Part One A Fiendish Murder at Tenterfield,
Part Two Who Was Connie?,
Part Three A Dire Punishment,
Epilogue,
Appendix: Documents,