Mrs Campbell now moved her head, looked downwards and shook it slowly before she went on, ‘She even understood when I wanted to come back to Fellburn to be close to the child. It was she who suggested that I should dye my hair and change my way of dressing to a much older style, and this I did. For eighteen months I worked in Fellburn and lived within a stone’s throw of the child and your son. Only one person knew of my identity’—she now turned her head towards Mrs Golightly before looking back at Joseph and saying—‘and when your son died I would have stepped in and claimed custody of the child there and then but for the fact that my aunt had also died. I had been with her during the last days of her illness and afterwards I had to stay on and see to the settling up of her affairs. And that’s the whole story except that I am telling you here and now, I mean to have her. She’s my child and nothing will stop me from…’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Joseph’s words were flat, and she came back at him swiftly, saying, ‘You have no claim whatever; you can do nothing.’
‘Don’t tell me I can do nothing…’
‘Be quiet, the both of you, and stop a minute and think! There mightn’t be any need for either of you to do anything if she’s not found, or found in time, so I’d make an effort, the pair of you, to gag your threats until such time…’
‘What did you say?’
Mrs Golightly now dropped her head to the side and, staring at Joseph, she said, ‘You’ve got the irritatin’ habit, mister, of either repeatin’ things or askin’ the road you know. You heard what I said.’
‘Yes, I heard what you said.’
‘Then why pretend that you didn’t?’
‘Gag.’
‘Gag?…Now you’ve got me doing it.’
‘I’m thinking…that word, gag. She came at me this morning, the child, all flurried and bothered. She said she had gone over the wall at the bottom of the wood’—he thumbed towards the door—‘after I’d warned her not to. But she had wanted to pick flowers and while at it she said she came across a man whose mouth was gagged…aye, gagged, and his eyes were bandaged, and when she unloosened them he told her to go and tell her parents.’
‘Name of God! And you’re just tellin’ us now?’
‘Yes, I’m just tellin’ you now. But I told Harry Thompson earlier on, and a number of us went around there. We even spoke to the owner, that Mr Aimsford, and he laughed his head off. He said she had a career all mapped out for herself for she had the main essential of a writer, a vivid imagination.’ He now put his hand to his head and ran his fingers through his hair as he muttered to himself, ‘She was so sure, positive, she took me back and she swore she wasn’t making it up. And then there was you.’ He now stabbed his index finger towards Mrs Golightly. ‘She was right about you.’
‘Who is the man next door, this Mr Aimsford?’
‘He’s a newcomer. Came about a month ago with a few sticks of furniture; waiting for his main stuff coming over from Paris so I’ve been given to understand; going to do the place up first.’ He blinked rapidly now and turned his gaze from Mrs Golightly on to Esther Campbell. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s what I heard too, but they’re also saying in the village there’s been no attempt to clean the place up, although he’s got two men there. One’s a local man and a bit of a scamp from what I gather.’
Mrs Campbell stepped quickly back as Joseph rushed for the door. In the yard he called to Harry, who was making for the roadway accompanied by Farmer Pollock and Constable Samson, followed by Pat Picton. ‘Hold your hand a minute!’ he cried, and when he reached them it was to the constable he spoke telling him of Bella’s escapade of the morning.
‘Well?’ he finished.
‘Fishy.’ The constable shook his head.
‘Aye, I’d say it’s fishy.’
‘And dangerous.’
‘What do you mean dangerous?’
‘Well, dangerous in such a way that you can’t burst into a man’s grounds or house without a warrant.’
‘You can ask to see around, can’t you, you being of the force?’
‘Aye, I can ask.’ Constable Samson nodded. ‘But what I should do first is ring the chief at Fellburn and get advice.’
‘Advice be damned! I’m going along there now. Are you coming or not?’
The constable looked from one to the other, but it was Harry who answered for him, saying, ‘Come on.’ But as they went to move away he turned and looked towards where Pat was standing some distance apart and said, ‘I thought you were going with Dave Seaton and them.’
‘Aw’—Pat jerked his head—‘I’ve…I’ve been all over that way, I’ve been over it twice the day an’ all that ground. They weren’t there. And I did some yellin’ an’ all and got no answer.’
It was as they all hurried out of the gate that the constable said scornfully, ‘Trust a Picton to find an excuse to get out of anything that spells effort.’
Chapter Eight
Despite their realisation that they were imprisoned in a cellar of which no outside people had knowledge, Bella and John had too little time in which to give way to despair before they heard the door above them being opened again.
Springing to their feet, they gripped each other tightly and were about to grope hopefully towards the stairs when a voice said, ‘Stay where you are, you two! Just stay where you are. Don’t open your mouths or move.’
Their hands clutched, they obeyed the order coming out of the darkness. There was a scrambling noise above them, followed by a heavy thud, and then the recognised sound of the grating lock, then silence, deep and thick like the blackness about them.
It was a full minute before John pulled himself away from Bella and groped to where the candle and matches were. Having found them, he lit the candle, and for a second its light appeared to him to be as bright as the sun. When he raised the candle above his head he saw that Bella was already halfway up the stairs and he hurried after her. When he reached her she was within three steps of the small landing, and he pulled her to a stop, saying, ‘Wait!’ and with the candle held high he looked at the trussed figure lying prone across the boards. The head appeared to be swathed in bandages, the whole of the face was covered except the nostrils.
‘It’s the man.’ His voice was a mere whisper.
Bella made no answer, but she scrambled forward and fell across the prostrate form.
‘Untie his legs,’ she said, pulling the gag from the man’s mouth; then with a swiftness that would have outdone any sighted person her fingers were behind his head loosening the knots of the blindfold.
‘O…oh. O…oh.’ The sound was in the nature of a groan.
‘Are you all right?’
It was John who answered her, saying, ‘Of course he’s not all right. Here, hold the candle; I can’t do anything with one hand.’
He pushed the candle into her hand, admonishing her now, ‘Hold it steady. Keep it from his face, you don’t want to scald him with hot grease.’
‘I’m not that silly; what do you take me for?’ For a moment it was the old Bella talking. But when the groans began again she said softly, ‘You’ll be all right. You’ll be all right,’ and after a pause she added, ‘Why isn’t he speaking? His eyes are closed.’ She was touching his lids with the fingers of one hand now. ‘He seems asleep.’
‘Likely drugged. There, that’s his legs free. I’ll have to turn him on his side to get to his hands.’
The knots in the rope binding the man’s hands were even tighter than those that had bound his legs and it was some minutes before John slowly eased the prostrate form onto its back again, saying, ‘We’ll have to get him down the steps.’
‘Try to wake him up.’
He was again about to answer, ‘Don’t be silly!’ when he thought better of it and, taking the man by the shoulders, he attempted to shake him gently, saying, ‘Mister! Mister! Wake up! Come on, wake up!’
The movement caused the man to groan again, then mutter something.
‘What do
you say?’
Again there came the muttering, and Bella, her ear now close to the man’s mouth, whispered, ‘He’s saying a name…Margaret.’
Gently now, John pushed Bella aside, adding, ‘If I can get him to sit up he might wake. Come on, mister, come on, sit up.’
‘What? What, Margaret?’ The words were clear now; then stronger still: ‘Oh, my head.’
‘That’s it, mister. Don’t lie down again.’
‘O…oh! O…oh!’
John pulled at the man’s shoulders, then again he said, ‘Listen, there’s steps over here; I want to get you down them. If you stay here you might fall over; there…there’s no banister.’
‘What? Oh, dear me! Oh, my head!’
‘Wake up. Wake up, sir.’ The sound of the man’s cultured voice had changed John’s mode of address.
Bending forward now of his own volition, the man linked his hands about his wrists and shook them as if trying to throw off the pain. Presently he raised his head and stretched his eyelids, then peered round him, and, his gaze coming to rest on Bella, who was standing two steps below him holding the candle, he drew in a number of short breaths before muttering, ‘The child. The blind child.’ Then turning his gaze to John, he asked in an almost normal voice, ‘Why…why are you here? What…what happened to you? They surely didn’t…?’
‘Yes; yes, they did, sir,’ put in John now, nodding at the man. ‘We were looking for you. Bella told me about you. She had told other people, but they didn’t believe her, and when I found you out in the outhouses they found me, and then they caught Bella, and they pushed us in here.’
‘What is it, a cellar?’
‘More than that I think, sir.’
The man put his hand to his head and groaned, and his words came slow again and muffled as he said, ‘They…they made me drink something. I can’t remember anything after they brought me into the house.’
‘Do you think you can manage the steps, sir?’
‘Yes. Yes.’
‘You go ahead, Bella, and hold the candle high,’ said John now; then turning to the man, he added, ‘I would sit on the steps, sir, and bump yourself down. You won’t be very steady on your legs in any case, being tied up for so long.’
‘Yes, yes, you’re right.’
The man now inched himself forward and, assisted by John’s grip on his shoulders, he made his way step by step to the bottom. But when he reached the floor of the cellar and attempted to stand he would have fallen had not John steadied him, saying as he did so, ‘We’ve got straw on the floor over here, sir; you’ll be able to rest on it.’
When they reached the straw the man sank thankfully down onto it; then after a moment, he asked, ‘Have you any water?’
‘No, sir, nothing.’
‘They’re devils!’
‘They’ll soon be caught.’ Bella’s words sounded emphatic, and she nodded in what she thought was their direction, adding, ‘They’re in a panic, that’s why they dumped you in here. They were coming for us for some reason or other, weren’t they, John? And then one of them shouted that there was a crowd of people coming up the drive and I knew it would be me granda and John’s da and others. They’ll soon find us.’
The words of comfort were cut off by John saying, ‘Don’t be silly. You heard what that fellow said about this place.’
The man’s voice now checked what would have been a stinging retort from Bella when he asked quietly, ‘What did he say?’
‘Well, sir, he seemed to suggest that this was a very secret place, sort of soundproof. The door up above just leads into a passage, and there’s another wall, a thick wall.’
There was silence for a moment, and then Bella, her tone holding that anxious tremor, asked, ‘What do you think they’ll do to us, sir?’
‘Oh, from what I’ve experienced of them they’ll stop at nothing to…’ The man paused and seemed to consider, then said in a lighter tone, ‘Oh, once the money is paid they will make their escape and likely leave word where we are to be found.’
John was quick to realise that the man was now trying to allay their fears.
‘May…may I ask who you are, sir?’ John tentatively put the question, and the man answered, ‘I’m Sir Geoffrey Cotton-Bailey.’
‘Cotton-Bailey.’ John repeated the words quietly. ‘Not Cotton-Bailey, the steelworks, I…I mean the owner of the steelworks? It…it was in the papers a little while ago. You married the American heiress…’
‘Yes, yes, the same.’
There was silence before John said, ‘They’ll expect big money for you, sir?’
‘Doubtless.’
‘Will…will your people pay it?’
‘Oh, they’ll pay it.’
‘How long is it since they took you, sir?’
‘What is today?’
‘It’s still Friday, sir.’
‘Oh well, this is the third day. They picked me up on Wednesday morning.’
‘Wednesday!’
‘Yes, Wednesday.’
‘But, sir, I read this morning’s paper and I listened to the news, and there wasn’t a thing in there about you.’
‘Oh, I’m not surprised at that; that would be one of their conditions. Notify the police or the newspapers and we finish him off, they would say; but I haven’t a doubt about it but that the police are well informed and are just biding their time…Oh, what I’d give for a mouthful of water.’
‘I’m dry an’ all.’
‘I’m sure you are, child.’ The man now put his hand out and caught hold of Bella’s and, pulling her gently down beside him, he said, ‘I think you’re a brave little girl. You’ll likely be the means of saving us all.’
‘I won’t, but me granda will. He’ll knock stick out of ’em when he finds out what they’ve done.’
‘Yes…yes, I’m sure he will.’
‘I…I think, sir, we’d better put the candle out.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, you see the man only left us three and this one’s nearly gone.’
‘Oh yes. Yes.’
When they were enveloped in darkness again, the man said softly, ‘There’s no light whatsoever down here?’
‘No, sir.’
‘It’s a funny place altogether, like a ditch,’ said Bella.
‘A ditch?’
‘Yes, ’cos this is the only flat bit, this bit we’re sitting on. The floor slopes up under those stairs, and at the other side where the boxes are stacked it slopes up again.’
‘Really!’
‘She’s right, sir. I never thought of it like that before but it is made like a ditch.’
‘Who owns the house?’
‘A man calling himself Mr Aimsford, and he seems to be the boss of this outfit. Bella recognised one of the other men, at least she made me recall him, his name is Dick Riley. He’s from the village and he’s been in trouble with the police before now. He goes out fishing with one of the boats along the coast…’
‘Fishing…boats. I remember now: that’s it, something about a boat and getting me across. Yes, yes; that’s what they meant to do. And still mean to do, take me across the water somewhere. It wouldn’t be Norway. No; no, that would be too evident…’
‘What are you doing, Bella? Where are you going?’ It was John’s voice now and she answered, ‘Never you mind.’
‘Oh.’
‘Where’s she going?’ Sir Geoffrey’s enquiry was soft, and after a moment’s hesitation, John answered him as softly: ‘To…to the toilet, sir.’
‘Toilet?’
‘Well, I mean, sir, she’s gone up by the wall; there’s a space up there.’
‘Oh, I understand.’
Bella could hear plainly what they were saying and in her embarrassment she moved further up by the wall, her hands outstretched before her; but it wasn’t what her hands found that brought her to a stop, for of a sudden she realised that she was walking on level ground again.
When her feet were obstructed by a box she
bent down and fingered it and found that she could squeeze between it and the wall. Her hands patting the wall now, she went forward. When she was again obstructed she found that this time two boxes, one piled on top of the other, left only a narrow gap between themselves and the wall, and as she went to squeeze past them she pushed against them. This was followed by a rumbling noise and a succession of bangs, and John’s voice shouting now, ‘What are you up to in there? Come out, you’ll have the whole lot on top of us.’
She stood still, her back pressed tightly against the wall, and after a moment during which she endeavoured to get over her fright, she called back, ‘It’s…it’s all right; I…I pushed a box.’
Her hands now searched in front of her and to the side. The way seemed to be clear but the floor was again sloping upwards, and she had only gone a few short steps forward when her outstretched hand touched a further wall and she knew that she had come to the end of this place. But her fingers told her there was one difference between the wall in front of her and the wall to the side of her; the wall to the front of her felt damp, even wet, and its surface was scaly; as her hand moved over it the stone flaked away under her nails. She was about to investigate further, for she found that once again she was standing on level ground and apparently it wasn’t obstructed by boxes, when her sharp ears caught the sound of a grating lock. Carefully now, she turned about and groped her way back, and she had just reached the place where she had to squeeze between the boxes and the wall, when she recognised the voice to be that of the man who smelt of fish, calling, ‘There’s a jug of tea and some grub, I’ll leave it up here for you; come and get it. Oh, an’ I know you’ll be loosened by now but that’s not going to help you, mister.’
Neither John nor the man answered, and Bella waited until she heard the creaking of the lock before sidling slowly forward again, to be greeted by John’s voice, saying, ‘Look where you’re going! I’m lighting the candle.’
‘Oh…Oh, I’m sorry, but John…’
‘Shut up a minute until I get the food down.’
She now turned in what she imagined to be the direction where Sir Geoffrey was sitting and said, ‘Speak to me please, then I’ll know where you are.’
Go Tell it to Mrs Golightly Page 12
