Deadlight-Hall(32)

In addition to all that, I now have the two Mabbley girls, who came here in January as you know. (I was not at all surprised to be asked to take those two, for we all know what kind of come-day, go-day creature Polly Mabbley is). This means a total of fourteen children in all, and a deal of hard work.

As well as that there is, of course, the other duty I am performing, which takes up a considerable amount of my time.

In the past fortnight I have had approaches from two gentlemen looking for workers for their manufactories. If better arrangements cannot be made between us, these gentlemen’s terms might suit better, and I shall have to think whether it would be advantageous to send some of the children to them (once of working age, of course) rather than to Salamander House.

I would be glad if you would oblige with an early reply.

Yours respectfully

Maria Porringer (Mrs)

Infuriatingly, this was the final letter from Maria Porringer, and the only document following it was a note of some land attached to the Hall being transferred in 1948. Michael glanced at this rather perfunctorily, and saw that the land had in fact been transferred to an S. Hurst. Might that be the same family as Jack Hurst who was renovating Deadlight Hall? And was the irreverent John Hurst referred to by Maria Porringer a forbear?

There were just two more documents relating to Deadlight Hall and, as with some of the earlier documents, they were incomplete – in fact the first was very nearly fragmentary. It seemed to relate to an inquest, but the edges were so jagged it was difficult to make out the heading. The whole thing had the appearance of having been Sellotaped together and scanned onto the computer by somebody who had probably said, ‘It isn’t much, but it’s a corner of local history, so let’s include it.’ The section bearing the name of the deceased had been torn away altogether, but the place of death was clearly stated as having been Deadlight Hall.

The verdict on the unfortunate unknown was Death by Misadventure, and a handwritten note in the ‘Cause of Death’ section simply said, ‘Unable to determine cause due to extreme and severe damage and incomplete condition of remains.’

Near the bottom was a rider from the jury, to the effect that Deadlight Hall be fenced off and secured against further mishap.

The second document was a tender for work at the Hall and although the date was blurred by time or damp, it seemed to follow from the recommendation of the Coroner’s jury. It gave an estimate of ￡75.12s.6d for the work required and trusted this would be acceptable.

‘Work to include disconnecting, so far as possible, all plumbing and heating outlets and all furnace vents as per our detailed list, to include labour, materials, and making good. Duration of work would be one week.’

A note had been added, explaining that it would be ‘nigh on impossible to disconnect the entire contraption on account of the plumbing being integral to the water supply as well as the hot water heating system.’

The writer had never come across such an arrangement, not in all his years as a master plumber, but it was his opinion that if you took out the whole contraption, you would very likely end up causing the collapse of the entire ground floor. He did not, therefore, recommend complete removal under any circumstances, and would not do it if fifty Coroners’ juries were to tell him to.

The Deadlight Hall documents ended with this, and there did not seem to be anything more.

Michael managed to fathom the printing procedure, and printed two copies of the inquest notes and scrappy tender, together with Maria Porringer’s letters. He would let Professor Rosendale have copies as soon as possible.

Returning to College, he was greeted by the news that Wilberforce had caught a sparrow during his morning perambulation, which he appeared to have partly eaten, before losing interest and leaving the remains in a pink suede boot belonging to a second year. The second year, who hailed from Kensington and seldom let people forget this, complained vociferously to Michael. The boots, it seemed, were Philip Plein, they had cost an absolute fortune, and Mummy and Daddy were going to be seriously furious over the entire thing.

Michael, who had never heard of Philip Plein, made a mental note to check his provenance with Nell and rather fruitlessly explained to the second year that cats only left these offerings to people they liked. The second year was having none of this. She said it was a disgrace the way flesh-eating predators preyed on poor defenceless little birds and ripped them to shreds, in fact Mummy was president of half-a-dozen wildlife societies and it so happened that the second year was currently canvassing for contributions on Mummy’s behalf.