The Forgotten Children

by Anita Davison

  She relished these intimate moments in the day which were theirs alone, with no Stokes or Milly likely to interrupt.

  ‘I gather you didn’t believe their explanations?’

  ‘Not just me, Lydia didn’t either. Nor did Sally.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s conclusive then. If Sally—’

  ‘Don’t tease. Sally has good instincts about people. We all agree that they appear to have been warned not to talk about it.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ Bunny reappeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a white towel slung over one naked shoulder. The short, blond hairs on his chest glowed gold in the flame from a wall light. For a man who spent most of his life at a desk, he was built like an athlete, with slim hips, a neat, tight waist and a washboard stomach.

  ‘I met Abel Cain today,’ Flora said. ‘I see now what you meant about him, and he certainly proved his worth.’

  Bunny swiped a dampened badger hair brush round a bowl of shaving soap and worked up a lather. ‘What do you mean he proved his worth?’ Frowning, he held the brush in mid-air.

  ‘Um – only that people kept their distance with him there.’ If she revealed their encounter with the youths in the stairwell, Bunny would forbid her to go anywhere near the place again. She slid off the bed and wandered closer, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. ‘Lydia and I aren’t sure what we should do next.’

  ‘Maybe you should wait for the inquest verdict on that nurse.’ His eyes met hers in the mirror as he spread a layer of creamy white suds over his chin with the loaded brush. ‘What was her name?’

  ‘Lizzie Prentice.’

  ‘Yes of course. I should have remembered.’ He retrieved a freshly sharpened straight razor from the box that had arrived from the barber’s that morning. ‘If the coroner decides it was an accident, there may be nothing else you can do. Unless you can find some connection between her death and those children to interest the police.’ He stretched his neck and moved the razor upwards across his skin in swift, well-practised movements.

  ‘Actually, there might be.’ Flora’s fingers itched to stroke his smooth back, but she pushed down the curl of desire that unwound in her belly, unwilling to startle him with a razor in his hand. He sent them to the barbers regularly to have them sharpened and were quite lethal. ‘Alice Finch telephoned this afternoon to say another child has gone missing. Her name is Isobel Lomax and when her nurse went to fetch her from the hospital she wasn’t there.’

  ‘Oh no, really?’ He twisted at the waist to look at her, shaking excess suds from the razor into the bowl. ‘When you say missing—’ He left the word hanging.

  ‘Officially missing.’

  ‘That’s progress, isn’t it? That the police are now involved.’ He waved the razor in the air. ‘I hope they find her, and soon.’ He turned back to the mirror and reapplied the blade to his face.

  ‘I hope so too.’ Flora was about to tell him that did not help the other six children, when he said something she didn’t catch. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘I said, what made you invite Lydia and Harry to supper tomorrow?’ His speech was slightly distorted by the finger he held against his nose, the thin blade applied to his upper lip. ‘It’s not like you to be so spontaneous.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask for ages and she was so kind coming with me today.’

  ‘It’s an excellent idea. I look forward to it. Haven’t seen Harry for too long. Though I hope the evening won’t turn into a propaganda exercise. I hear he’s considering standing for Parliament as a Liberal.’ The razor clicked against the side of the ewer as he shook off the excess suds. ‘And I’m sorry to desert you this evening, but I cannot get out of this dinner.’

  ‘I understand. These social occasions are important to your career.’ She delivered this sop to her conscience with a bright smile. ‘Sally has the evening off, so I’ll probably help Milly bath Arthur and have an early night.’

  She decided this was not the right time to mention that she had inveigled Sally and Abel to pay a visit to The Antigallican to find out what they could about Swifty Ellis. Sally had needed little persuading with the promise of an evening in Abel’s company in the offing.

  ‘Much as I hate to admit it,’ Bunny was still speaking, ‘the chasm that exists between the affluent and the poor leaves the weaker members of our society at risk. Especially the children. London is a dangerous place.’

  ‘Now you sound like a politician.’ She drifted back to the bed, her hands on either side of her thighs, her gaze on the crease of his back which disappeared below his belt. At some point, the leather had dipped low enough to reveal the dimples on either side of his spine.

  ‘Not me, though I admire Harry’s principles. We condemn these activities as scandalous, but at the same time console ourselves that it’s happening in Southwark and not on our own doorstep.’ He flicked the towel from his shoulder and strolled into the bedroom, wiping traces of soap his razor had missed.

  ‘Isobel Lomax didn’t live in Southwark. She was there by accident.’ Flora shifted position to face him, her feet dangling a few inches above the floor. ‘Lydia has a theory that the children’s families are being paid to look the other way. That’s why they haven’t been reported missing.’ She decided not to mention Lydia’s upbringing in Bermondsey, despite that she hated keeping secrets from him. Somehow repeating Lydia’s story to anyone, even Bunny, would feel like a betrayal of confidence.

  ‘If you’re right about that,’ Bunny paused in the act of withdrawing a clean shirt from a drawer, ‘it’s a well-organized operation and dangerous people are likely involved.’ He shook out the shirt and slipped it over his shoulders. ‘I don’t want people like that even knowing you exist, and they soon will if you go around asking questions.’

  ‘But what if Nurse Prentice knew something about who took the children?’

  ‘Are you saying she was killed to get her out of the way?’

  ‘Or perhaps because she knew something? It’s possible, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ He straightened, his eyes without his glasses looked soft and more vivid than usual. ‘However, this time, I hope you’ll be sensible and leave it to the police to discover who killed her and why.’ He grimaced as he struggled to fasten his collar studs, but fumbled them and the left side of the collar came free. ‘Damn.’

  Flora slapped his hands gently away from the collar and fastened the studs for him.

  ‘I’m serious, Flora.’ He selected a silk bow tie from the dresser and slung it around his neck, the ends flat against his shirt like two squashed snake heads. ‘It’s not your responsibility to provide the police with evidence.’ He pointed at his tie in a “would you mind” gesture.

  ‘Don’t you see, that’s exactly what I must do, or those children will be forgotten.’ She knotted the tie beneath his chin into a symmetrical bow, folded his collar down over it and tugged the ends out gently. ‘If we can make the police investigate not just Isobel but all the missing children properly, we may stand a chance of finding them.’ She retrieved his spectacles from the dresser and slid them onto his nose, then placed her hands flat against his chest. ‘Admit it, you want to solve this puzzle as much as I do, but you also want to keep me out of harm’s way.’

  ‘You know me so well.’ His eyes darkened and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin against her forehead.

  ‘I understand you worry about me,’ Flora whispered against his chest. ‘But if we do nothing, how can we live with ourselves knowing that young children have been taken from their homes and are—’ her voice trailed off as unimaginable images crowded her mind. With an effort, she pushed them away. Sentimentality wouldn’t help her now. ‘Think of Arthur.’

  ‘I am thinking of him.’ He released a long breath into her hair. ‘Perhaps I could find someone in authority willing to examine the case more closely. Someone who has influence and access to resources.’

  ‘Oh, would you?’ She jerk
ed backward and stared up at him, incredulous and yet conscious she had been waiting for him to offer. ‘Thank you.’ Her eyes welled and she blinked away tears.

  ‘I’m not promising anything,’ he began gently, ‘but the Chief Constable and half the senior-ranking police officers in the city will be at The Guildhall tonight. There must be someone among them I can convince this situation is worth pursuing. I only hope the criminal fraternity don’t find out that the police stations will be empty this evening.’

  ‘Well, I certainly shan’t tell them.’ Flora’s arms slid up his back, her face pressed into his shirt where she breathed in the starched linen and shaving soap that, predictably, sent her blood rushing through her veins. ‘I mustn’t cry, or I’ll ruin your shirt.’ Suddenly aware her eyes were wet she pulled back sharply. ‘Now, where’s your dinner jacket?’

  She turned in the direction of the wardrobe but Bunny caught her hand, pulling her back into his arms, his head bent and his lips against the skin below her ear.

  ‘Forget the jacket.’ His voice vibrated through her. ‘We have a little time before the cab arrives.’

  ‘Actually.’ Her eyes closed as she wound her arms round his neck, ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

  ‘You’ll have to retie my tie.’ He lifted her a few inches off the ground and backed her towards the bed.

  ‘I think I could probably manage that.’

  Chapter 16

  Flora ate her supper from a tray in her bedroom that evening in front of a glowing fire; a luxury she granted herself since Bunny chose to carouse with his lawyer colleagues. Despite his sympathetic understanding, they were no nearer to identifying who was responsible for Nurse Prentice’s death, nor did they have any idea as to who could have taken the children.

  Once Stokes had removed the tray, she attempted to read the latest H G Wells short story, “The Country of the Blind” in The Strand Magazine, but was interrupted by the jangle of the doorbell that resonated through the hall and brought her onto the landing just as Stokes’ brisk footsteps beat a smart tattoo across the tiled floor.

  ‘Thank you, Stokes,’ Beatrice Harrington’s voice drifted up to where Flora stood, her hands tensed on the bannister. ‘Inform your mistress I’ll await her in the sitting room. I hope you’ve set a good fire in there as it’s bitter cold outside.’ The feathers on her voluminous hat bobbed as she glided across the hall. ‘I shall require tea, Earl Grey and don’t let it stew. Oh, and don’t let that red-haired kitchen maid bring it, she always manages to slop milk in the saucer or drops the teaspoons onto the floor.’

  Flora leaned against the wall, allowing a moment to compose herself before she dragged her feet to the sitting room, where Beatrice was comfortably ensconced in a wingback chair beside the fire.

  ‘What an unexpected surprise, Mother-in-Law,’ her bright greeting belied the stone that had settled in her stomach. ‘How nice of you to call.’

  ‘No need to take that sarcastic tone with me. I know quite well you didn’t expect to see me. However with Ptolemy out for the evening I thought you would benefit from my company.’ Beatrice tugged off her gloves, slapped them onto a side table and rushed toward the fire, her hands held toward the flames. ‘I took an excellent early supper with April Groves in Lennox Gardens, so I don’t need any refreshment other than the tea.’

  ‘How thoughtful of you,’ Flora said, her tongue firmly gripped between her teeth, catching Beatrice’s sudden hard look. Bunny’s mother might lack tact, but she could detect disrespect in a heartbeat. When their move to the city had become imminent, Bunny had suggested Beatrice share the charming villa she had bought in Chiswick with a widowed cousin to keep her company, an arrangement that suited them all, and where Beatrice revelled in her new-found independence and an ability to socialize with her friends whenever she pleased. The only disadvantage being that having the convenience of a private carriage enabled her to call on her son and daughter-in-law unannounced.

  ‘I was about to go up and bath the baby,’ Flora said. ‘Would you like to come?’ As the words left her, she knew they had been a mistake.

  ‘Whatever for? That’s the nursery maid’s job.’ She blinked in confusion, sending her black hat feathers quivering. Flora had seen grown men cower in her presence, not all of them tradesmen. With her penetrating blue eyes and perpetually pinched mouth, Beatrice Harrington could have given lessons in intimidation to the late queen.

  ‘I enjoy bathing him myself.’ Flora took a seat on a hard-backed chair, hoping her guest would take it as a sign not to get too comfortable. ‘It helps me get to know him, and more importantly, for him to know me.’

  ‘You do fret about the most unimportant things, Flora,’ Beatrice sniffed as she left the fire and took a chair opposite Flora. ‘Naturally, he’ll know who you are. His nanny will tell him. A child’s duty is to its parents, not the other way around.’

  ‘I enjoy my time with Arthur.’ She refused to be intimidated where her son was concerned. ‘This way he’ll know to come to me when he’s upset or worried. He needs me.’ Not for the first time, she wondered how Bunny had turned out to be the loving, considerate man he was with this woman for a mother. Perhaps he had had a devoted nursemaid?

  ‘It’s enough to keep your child disciplined, clothed and fed without worrying about how he feels, dear,’ Beatrice went on, oblivious to Flora’s stiff shoulders. ‘A short visit before bedtime is quite adequate to check he is healthy and knows his manners. Anything else is merely fussing.’

  ‘Don’t you want to see your grandson?’ Flora asked, a sharp edge to her voice she hoped Beatrice was too self-absorbed to miss. She could do without another lecture on disrespect of her elders.

  ‘How can you ask, when you know how much I adore him? Tell the nurse to bring him down when he’s been bathed and readied for bed.’

  Flora rolled her eyes, an action she covered quickly as the door opened. ‘Ah, here’s Stokes with our tea.’ She waited until he had set down the tray. ‘Stokes, would you ask Milly to bring Master Arthur down when he has had his bath? I shan’t be helping to bathe him this evening. Oh and take the cakes away, Mrs Harrington has already eaten.’

  ‘Never mind, Stokes, leave them there.’ Beatrice removed the plate of fancies from the tray and set it at her side. ‘I might be tempted later.’

  ‘As you wish, madam.’ Stokes’ lips twitched at Flora in sympathy as he bowed and left.

  Beatrice plucked an old copy of The Strand Magazine from a small pile on a side table. ‘Detective stories?’ She used the same inflection she might have adopted for the word “Blasphemy”.

  ‘I hope you aren’t wasting your time on such nonsense, Flora? I was never allowed to read penny dreadfuls when I was your age.’

  ‘They’re very entertaining and penny dreadfuls is such an outdated term. Everyone reads fiction these days and Conan Doyle is well thought of as a writer. Bunny has a subscription,’ she added, immediately regretting her blatant attempt to justify herself.

  ‘Oh well, if Ptolemy allows such publications in the house, it must be acceptable.’ Beatrice wrinkled her nose at her first sip from her cup, lifted the teapot lid and peered inside. ‘How many scoops does that maid of yours put in this teapot?’

  ‘I’ve never had a reason to enquire.’ Flora stole frequent looks at the clock, whose hands seemed to crawl slower than usual while she listened with growing frustration during Beatrice’s detailed account of her week, which seemed to consist of several excursions to her contemporaries, all of whom had allowed themselves to sink into desultory old age, with particular attention to those whose children had made less than advantageous marriages. The tirade finally ceased when Milly arrived with Arthur; his hair damp from his bath and his skin pink and sweet-smelling. Flora took immediate possession of this irresistible bundle of soft chubbiness, to which his grandmother appeared immune.

  Beatrice’s monologue changed to a tirade of criticism of Flora’s disinterest in expanding her social circle. ‘You should be
seeking to enhance Ptolemy’s career with the right people, not chasing around the city in search of spies and murderers.’

  ‘Actually, Mother-in-Law, I don’t-’

  ‘- and to allow policemen into your home is the height of crass behaviour,’ Beatrice interrupted her. ‘What will your neighbours think?’

  ‘Don’t you agree that Arthur has grown since your last visit?’ Flora said through gritted teeth in an attempt to change the subject. The last thing she wanted was an unseemly argument.

  ‘Such a strong, handsome boy.’ Beatrice smiled for the first time that evening, although her only display of affection took the form of holding his tiny hand between finger and thumb for a moment before removing it fastidiously in favour of one of the miniature cakes at her elbow

  Once the baby had been cursorily inspected and declared hale and healthy, Beatrice pre-empted Flora and dismissed Milly with instructions on how many blankets the baby required, never to pick him up simply because he cries and a final warning to keep the windows tightly closed.

  ‘October is a brutal month, I find. I can never get sufficiently warm.’ She tugged her fur collar tighter round her throat. ‘I like that girl,’ she added as the door closed on Milly, who had shown no resentment to receiving orders from Beatrice. ‘She’s silent and yet both respectful and vigilant.’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it. More tea?’ Flora asked, more out of politeness than a desire to prolong the visit.

  Beatrice opened her mouth to reply just as the rattle of the doorknob preceded the arrival of Sally, who burst into the room, her hat awry and her curly dark hair in her eyes.

  ‘Miss Flora, you’ll never guess—’ she halted, blinking when she caught sight of Beatrice and gave a little bob. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t know you was here.’

  ‘Really, Pond. Do you normally enter your employer’s sitting room without knocking?’ Beatrice snatched her gloves from the table and pushed herself awkwardly to her feet. ‘You never could control your servants, Flora,’ she said sotto voce, then louder. ‘Speaking of which, would you ask Stokes to inform my driver I shall be out in a moment.’