The Forgotten Children

by Anita Davison

  ‘Why are they wasting time?’ Flora fisted her hands on her lap. ‘Don’t the police have any common sense?’

  ‘It seems not,’ Alice said. ‘I got the impression they think the nanny is lying and trying to shift the blame. Nothing I have said will dissuade them, so we must hope they are right and find Isobel soon, though I have my doubts.’

  ‘As do I,’ Flora said slowly.

  ‘Did you manage to find anything new out this morning?’ Miss Finch redirected the conversation.

  ‘I’m afraid we were received in the same way you were, with well-rehearsed stories and downright evasion. Without exception they were reluctant to talk to us.’

  ‘Except Ada,’ Lydia reminded her. ‘A young girl, Ada Baines, asked us if we had seen a friend of hers called Annie who was treated here but went missing soon afterwards.’

  ‘Oh dear. Another one?’ Alice regarded them with dismay. ‘Let me see if I can find this Annie in our records.’ She consulted a thick ledger on her desk, flicked back a few pages and ran a finger down the left-hand page. ‘There was an Annie Sims treated for influenza early last month. She was discharged after four days.’

  ‘Annie lived in Decima Street,’ Lydia said. ‘Could she be this Sims girl?’

  ‘It appears so, the address is the same.’ Alice released a long breath. ‘This situation seems to be getting worse. Are we the only people who care about where these children are?’

  ‘We need to find out more about this Swifty person,’ Lydia said. ‘If he’s been hanging around the hospital, someone must know him.’

  ‘What about that public house you told me about?’ Flora turned to Lydia. ‘The one Ada mentioned.’

  ‘The Corks Galleon?’ Lydia nodded slowly. ‘Or rather, The Antigallican. Ada said he was a regular there.’

  ‘I cannot see you young ladies going into that establishment,’ Miss Finch rolled her eyes.

  ‘Not us,’ Flora said slowly, turning possibilities over in her head. ‘But we know someone who might be able to go there unnoticed.’

  ‘Abel!’ Flora and Lydia said simultaneously.

  A sharp knock at the door preceded the return of a grim-faced Sister Lazarus, who was apparently in no better mood than she had left. ‘Dr Reid says—’

  ‘I know, thank you, Sister, I shall be along directly.’ Alice rose and eased around the desk. ‘Sister, would you take Mrs Harrington and Miss Grey back to the main entrance? I’ll ask Forbes to summon a hansom on my way through.’

  ‘If you insist, Miss Finch, although I do have important work to do.’ Sister Lazarus’ eyes hardened as she watched Flora refold the list and return it to her bag.

  ‘As do we all, Sister. However, I’m sure you can spare a few moments.’ Alice turned away and grasped Flora’s hands in hers. ‘Thank you so much for what you did today. There’s still much more we need to discover.’

  ‘I agree,’ Flora returned her firm grip. ‘Though I’m not sure which direction we should take next.’

  ‘Therefore we must stay in touch. And my thanks to you as well, Miss Grey,’ she added over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them alone.

  ‘Sister Lazarus,’ Flora began, unable to rid herself of the feeling she addressed a nun, ‘what do you think about these strange goings-on at the hospital?’

  Lydia tactfully wandered a few feet away and studied a photograph of student nurses on the wall, though the set of her shoulders indicated she heard every word.

  ‘I assume you mean those children Lizzie Prentice fussed about?’ Sister Lazarus replied with a sniff. ‘If Mr Buchanan was worried about them, there would be cause for concern, but he isn’t. Miss Finch must have got it wrong.’ She gathered files from the desk into a thick pile, apparently having forgotten the important work she had to do. ‘As for those children, if their families didn’t care about them, they wouldn’t have brought them to the hospital in the first place.’ She hefted the pile up in front of her like a shield. ‘Better not keep that cab waiting too long, Mrs Harrison, it’s difficult enough getting them to come here at all.’

  ‘It’s Harrington,’ Flora corrected as she passed her into the hall.

  ‘My mistake.’ The ghost of a smile appeared on Sister Lazarus’ face, confirming Flora’s suspicion she had done so on purpose. Subtlety did not sit well on her sharp features. She looked more like a ferret about to pounce on a rabbit. ‘We’ve seen a lot of you recently in our humble charity hospital.’ She made it sound like a reprimand. ‘I would have thought Guy’s would have been a more suitable place for ladies like yourselves.’

  ‘Miss Grey and I are considering making donations,’ Flora lied, hurrying to keep up with the nurse’s brisk pace along the corridor. ‘You do such excellent work here and my husband likes the idea of a bed bearing his name.’

  ‘Admirable, I’m sure.’ She hugged the ledger close to her chest as she walked, but made no effort to slow down.

  ‘Did you treat Isobel Lomax when she was here?’ Lydia put on a spurt in order to draw level with her other side. They must have presented an odd sight with the stern sister flanked by two well-dressed ladies skipping to keep up.

  ‘My job is mostly supervisory and I have a lot of administration to do. The actual nursing is done by others.’

  ‘I can see you have a good deal of authority here.’ Lydia wasn’t going to be put off, it seemed. ‘What do you think happened to Isobel?’

  ‘I have no idea, but I blame the parents for leaving her in the care of such a young and inexperienced girl.’

  ‘Will you attend Lizzie Prentice’s inquest, Sister?’ Flora asked, determined not to let her ignore them.

  ‘Whatever for?’ They had reached the entrance hall, where she halted abruptly, the ledger held up to her chest like armour. ‘It’s a waste of my time when I could be doing more important work here.’

  ‘You don’t think it was possible she was attacked?’ Flora asked.

  ‘I haven’t really thought about it.’ Her thin lips curled. ‘Members of the public come and go all the time through the rear yard. That gate is never locked.’ Her narrowed eyes slid to Lydia and back to Flora. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have duties to perform.’

  ‘In other words, she knows nothing,’ Lydia murmured, her hard gaze on the woman’s retreating back.

  ‘Or everything.’ Flora’s attention was caught by a shiny gold ball that swung gently from the nurse’s skirt as she walked, possibly the source of the jingling sound she had heard earlier. Her scrutiny appeared to be catching when Sister Lazarus halted, looked down in annoyance and tucked the object into her pocket before walking on again.

  Chapter 15

  ‘I do apologize, Mrs Harrington.’ Forbes greeted them in the entrance hall with both arms held out in supplication. ‘I’m afraid your taxi was claimed by another visitor. However, I sent a boy to fetch another one. He shouldn’t be long if you wouldn’t mind waiting.’

  ‘It cannot be helped.’ Flora concealed her frustration beneath a smile.

  Lydia claimed a bench seat to the right of the porter’s desk, but Flora was too restless to sit and paced a hall where nurses, hospital workers and visitors formed a constantly moving stream.

  Who had collected Isobel from the hospital? Was he connected to the elusive Swifty? If so, were either, or both of them responsible for Lizzie Prentice’s death? If the coroner decreed it was an accident, as Dr Reid had believed, how could the authorities be persuaded to take the case of the other missing children seriously? Without official help there was so little they could do.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, followed by Forbes’ enthusiastic greeting of an arrival. She turned in anticipation of the arrival of a hansom, but instead, Mr Buchanan strode into the entrance hall with the confident air of a man aware of his standing in the world. He lifted a hand to the porter in a distracted salute, pausing only when Forbes skirted the desk and handed him an envelope.

  Buc
hanan tucked his walking cane under one arm and tore the envelope open with little more than mild curiosity, his chin lifted in greeting to a passing doctor. He withdrew two slips of paper, his brows knitted together and he gave a sharp gasp. As he read one, the second fluttered to the tiled floor, but Buchanan did not seem to notice, his focus on what looked to be a handwritten note.

  Flora ran forward and retrieved the paper from the floor, reading it rapidly before handing it back. ‘Yours, I believe, Mr Buchanan.’

  ‘Uh-thank you, Mrs—’ He nodded vaguely as he reached for it.

  ‘Harrington,’ Flora replied. ‘Miss Finch introduced us the other day, if you recall.’

  ‘She did?’ His gaze darted to the entrance as he shoved both papers and envelope roughly into his pocket. ‘Ah, yes, I think I do remember. Thank you, madam. Now if you’ll excuse me.’ He slapped a hand on the porter’s desk to gain the man’s attention. ‘Did you see who left this for me?’

  ‘No, Mr Buchanan.’ The porter stared vaguely at him. ‘It was here when I arrived this morning. Is there no return address?’

  ‘Never mind.’ He pushed away from the desk, turned and headed along a corridor.

  ‘Flora!’ Lydia called from the open front door. ‘Our taxi is here.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ Flora dragged her gaze away from the governor’s back and hurried outside.

  ‘What were you and that man talking about?’ Lydia asked as the porter showed them to their cab and closed the wooden shutters over their legs.

  ‘Passing the time of day, nothing more.’ Flora’s thoughts raced as the incident in the hall ran through her head. ‘Do you like music, Lydia?’

  ‘Of course, doesn’t everyone? What sort in particular?’

  ‘There’s a concert recital at The Bechstein Hall tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Ah yes, some German pianist who’s reputed to be a musical genius.’

  ‘Austrian, actually. It’s his London debut with the Hallé Orchestra.’ Flora grabbed the rail in front of her as their driver turned a sharp corner into Marshalsea Road.

  ‘Really?’ Lydia’s right eyebrow lifted slowly and her lips formed a tiny smile. ‘And do you happen to know what he will be playing?’

  ‘Actually, I do. Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2, Opus 83 in B Flat Major.’

  ‘And you got all that from a slip of paper?’ At Flora’s start, she laughed, ‘I saw you hurl yourself across the floor towards whatever fell out of the envelope that gentleman was holding. Not very subtle, Flora.’

  ‘Maybe not, but effective. It was a concert ticket. I only caught a glimpse, but it was enough to remind me of an article I read in yesterday’s paper about Mr Schnabel, the pianist.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me who the worried-looking gentleman was, and what does he have to do with a foreign pianist?’

  ‘Mr Raymond Buchanan. And something tells me that concert is the last place he wants to be. When he saw that ticket just now, he looked as if all his worst fears had been realized.’

  ‘You’re confusing me,’ Lydia raised her voice above the clop of hooves and the rush of traffic that passed them on both sides. ‘What has he got to do with anything?’

  ‘Alice Finch introduced us on our first visit to the hospital,’ Flora said. ‘He’s on the Board of Governors, but Miss Finch says he dismissed the notion that children were going missing from the hospital’

  ‘Which is understandable if the reputation of the establishment is at stake. Not something he would admit to unless it was uncontroversial.’

  ‘That’s what I hate about politicians,’ Flora grunted. ‘Nothing matters but appearances.’

  ‘Has Miss Finch implied he might be involved in that nurse’s death or the missing children?’ Lydia asked, as usual going straight to the heart of the matter.

  ‘No, quite the opposite. She seems to admire him.’ Experience had told her anyone could be a suspect until proven otherwise, so she was reserving judgement. ‘I saw Mr Buchanan in a cab beside us when we left the hospital the other day and seeing him just now reminded me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I still don’t see the connection.’

  ‘He said he was in a hurry to keep an appointment but he was still at the hospital an hour later. Then he left in a cab within minutes of a dead body being found on hospital grounds. Wouldn’t he have been eager to remain and take command of the situation?’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t know about Nurse Prentice? Or his appointment was local and he came back to the hospital to deal with the situation?’ Lydia suggested.

  ‘Maybe, but then if why get into a cab at the front entrance where everyone could see him when he had already established he wouldn’t be there? Isn’t he more likely to have slipped through the rear door?’

  ‘Has that Sister Lazarus got anything to do with these instincts of yours?’ Lydia tapped her gloved fingers against her lips. ‘I ask, because your Mr Buchanan almost jumped out of his skin when he saw her just now.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t notice that.’

  Lydia’s powers of observation were evidently as keen as ever.

  ‘I doubt you’ll be able to spy on him at the concert if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Why not? I’m sure Bunny would enjoy a musical evening. I’ll get us a box so we can see everything.’

  ‘I hate to say this, Flora, but I fear you’ll be out of luck. That concert has been sold out for some time. Harry tried to buy tickets a month ago but found it impossible. And besides, there are no boxes at The Bechstein Hall,’ Lydia added with authority. ‘There isn’t even a gallery. It’s quite small with only five hundred seats on one level in front of a raised stage. Perfect for listening to music but useless for a play and not easy to watch someone without their noticing.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’ Flora’s shoulders slumped. ‘It was such a good idea too.’ She fell silent, the only sound the clop of hooves as they crossed Westminster Bridge, a sight she had seen a great deal lately. ‘Lydia, what did you think of Miss Finch?’ Flora asked after a moment.

  ‘I thought her charming, and very professional. Though I couldn’t help noticing some animosity between her and that Sister Lazarus. The way she put Miss Finch’s concerns about the missing children down to fussing struck me as odd. I would expect a nurse to have more compassion.’

  ‘I agree, about Sister Lazarus, but that wasn’t why I asked. Do you think Alice and I look alike?’ The hansom pulled sharply to the side of the road outside the Harriet Parker Academy, the abrupt halt slamming Flora’s back against the upholstery. Wincing, she pushed up the wooden flap whilst rethinking her generous tip.

  ‘Flora? Do you really believe Miss Finch could be your mother?’

  ‘Is that completely ridiculous?’ She let the half-open flap fall back into place.

  Lydia chewed her bottom lip before answering, ‘I thought about what you said the other day, and maybe you do bear a certain resemblance to her.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ Flora’s heart leapt for a second before settling again. Was it true, or was she too willing to latch onto anything, no matter how slight, which might link her to Alice?

  ‘The shape of her eyes are similar to yours and you have the same height and build.’ Lydia shook her head as if dislodging these details. ‘No, Flora, it’s not logical. Why would she leave you with Riordan,’ she broke off and gave the street a swift glance, lowering her voice, ‘a man she knew wasn’t your father, never to contact you again?’

  ‘I’ve asked myself that question, and more, since I first saw her.’ Flora released a pent-up breath. ‘Maybe I simply want her to be my mother in order to answer all the questions I still have about why she disappeared.’

  ‘You might have to face the fact you may never have those answers.’ Lydia rested her hand on Flora’s forearm. ‘Can’t you leave the past alone and enjoy your life now? You have so much, Flora.’

  ‘You make me sound ungrateful and self-pitying.’ A wave of shame sent a shuddering breath thr
ough her. ‘I do have a good life, don’t I? A lovely home, a wonderful husband and the sweetest baby in London. Perhaps you’re right, and I should treat Alice Finch as a welcome new acquaintance, not a solution to the mysteries of my own past.’ Even as the words left her, Flora’s mind screamed a denial. No, it wasn’t enough. She felt incomplete not knowing why her mother had abandoned her as a child. Did she not love her? What could a six-year-old child have done to drive her own mother away? ‘As a concert appears to be out of the question, would you like to bring Harry to supper tomorrow evening?’ she asked, forcing herself to sound normal. ‘If we combine resources we might be able to come up with some strategy. I assume you have mentioned this case to him?’

  ‘I have yes, but he seems as clueless as any of us. Supper would be nice though.’

  ‘I would have asked you for tonight, but Bunny has some Lord Mayor’s dinner. At this short notice it won’t be anything elaborate but I’m sure Mrs Cope will be able to come up with something.’

  ‘Anything would be most welcome, and make a nice change for Harry who has never quite mastered the tiny stove in his rooms.’ The horse whinnied, shifting its hooves as if impatient to be off again.

  ‘Now I really must go,’ Lydia said. ‘I have a deputy headmistress who manages competently without me, but I still have a mountain of paperwork waiting.’ She signalled the driver to pull the lever to open the flaps allowing her to step down.

  Flora raised her hand in a backward wave at her retreating figure as the cab moved off towards Eaton Place, her thoughts returning to Mr Buchanan’s face when he saw the contents of the envelope. Something was going to happen at the Bechstein Hall tomorrow night, and it had nothing to do with the music.

  *

  ‘How did your visit to Bermondsey go this morning?’ Leaving the door between their bedroom and his dressing room open, Bunny shrugged out of his shirt and slung it over a nearby chair.

  ‘Not as successfully as I had hoped.’ Flora perched on the end of the bed, her chin on her hands resting on the brass bedpost. ‘The families all had explanations as to why the children aren’t there.’