Deadlight-Hall(68)

‘Eighteen sixty. Would that fit for Porringer?’ asked Nell.

‘I think so.’ Michael fished out the untidy notebook which accompanied him wherever he went. ‘Maria’s letters start in 1878, when she was appointed as trustee or warden, or whatever she was, at Deadlight Hall. She refers to the death of Porringer then.’

‘And this shop was set up eighteen years before that,’ said Nell. ‘It sounds all right. What now? Do we just go in and ask if they’ve got any records we could see?’

‘I don’t see why not. We’re on a perfectly legitimate errand – research into the area in general. And this is Oxford, so they’re probably used to writers and academics researching all kinds of things.’

The shop had a pleasingly old-fashioned facade, but, as Nell said, it was not determinedly so. The displays inside were bright and clean, with familiar brand names strewn around, and there were placards about blood pressure checks and influenza jabs. At the far end were two large glass-fronted display cases with several old-fashioned scales and instruments, and a carefully arranged selection of old glass bottles inside.

‘Green for poison, I think,’ said Nell, pointing them out. ‘Oh, and look at this!’

‘What …?’

‘It’s an old Poison Book. If you wanted to buy an ounce of ratbane you had to leave your name and a signature. I don’t think it was a very foolproof system, though, because presumably there was nothing to stop you going to a shop where you weren’t known, and signing as John Smith or U.N. Owen, like the island murderer in the Agatha Christie book.’

The poison book was in good condition. The ink of most of the entries was faded, but the writing was legible. There was, though, the feeling that the light which fell over the pages was tinged with the flickering radiance of candlelight, wax-scented and dim, or even the bad-smelling gaslight that came later. Michael stared at it, and felt the elusive memory stir again, a little more definitely this time. Somewhere recently he had seen other books, strongly similar to this one – something about the writing, was it? But again, it would not come fully into focus.

Nell was leaning forward to study the entries more closely, when a small rotund gentleman bustled over to them, and asked if he could help.

‘I’m sure you can,’ said Michael, producing a card. ‘We’re interested in the history of your shop, and we wondered if we could have a closer look at this book you’ve got on display.’

The rotund gentleman, who wore a neat name badge proclaiming him to be W. Trussell, M. Pharm., studied Michael’s card, then beamed with delight.

‘People do like to see that display,’ he said. ‘How things were done in the old days. I change it every so often, of course, so as it won’t get too familiar, not to say dusty.’ He looked back at Michael’s card. ‘Well, now, Dr Flint, and …’

‘Nell West,’ supplied Nell.

‘You’re more than welcome to take a look at the book. We don’t leave it on open display, you understand, because it’s a bit fragile. But people like to see it there, and I like the reminder of the shop’s past. We’re one of the few independent pharmacists left in the county, you know. It’s always been in private ownership, this shop, right from the start. Of course, we’ve had offers from the big companies,’ he said, proudly, ‘and probably one day we’ll have to accept. But not quite yet.’ He produced a small set of keys, unlocked the display cabinet, and lifted the book out with care. ‘If I can’t trust a senior member of an Oxford University I don’t know who I can trust,’ he said, and Nell caught the ghost of a half-wink from Michael at this. ‘Is it for a thesis, Dr Flint? A paper?’

This was said hopefully, and Michael said, ‘It might be both in the end. It might not work out, of course – we might meet dead ends. But if it does come to something, I’d make sure you got an acknowledgement.’

‘Well, that would be very nice, although not at all necessary. I’ll leave you to it,’ said Mr Trussell. ‘It’s a fairly quiet time of day for us, so you’ll probably be undisturbed. There’re a couple of chairs over there – we keep them for people waiting for prescriptions to be made up. Feel free to use them. I’ll be around if you need any help.’

He took himself off, and Nell and Michael carried the book over to the chairs.

Nell opened it with care. The entries began on a page headed April 1870.