Like Mother, Like Daughter

by Maggie Hope

‘Are you sure? I mean, what about the outhouses?’

  ‘By, you don’t give up, do you? Get away with you. I’ve been round them all this morning, all but the ones that are locked up. I’m telling you, there’s nobody there.’

  Cath would have persevered, maybe insisted on looking herself, but at that moment she heard a man’s step approaching the door leading into the rest of the house and Jack’s voice calling out.

  ‘Joseph? Are you there, Joseph?’

  Cath turned and fled for the path leading down to Eden Hope. The ground was wet but beginning to dry up as the sun and wind got to it, so it was not quite so slippery as it had been the night before. There were footprints in the patches of mud but more than one person had made them and she couldn’t be sure if Annie had come this way. There were smaller ones and some made by a man’s heavy boots, water standing in the holes made by the studs of the soles. In any case, she went slowly, looking about to either side. She found a dead branch and broke off a stick that was manageable enough for her to beat around the patches of tall sere grass and dead undergrowth, and that was how she saw that the smaller prints had left the path. There were slip marks and one larger one where someone must have fallen. Further down the bank she noticed a cut in the bankside and below that she could hear water running – some small stream or beck, or just extra water running off after the rain of the week before. Cath followed it down to a miniature ravine and there, in the bottom, was what looked like a bundle of rags.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Gran,’ Ronnie moaned but without much hope. He was cold and his ankle throbbed and throbbed and he knew his gran wasn’t going to find him and neither would anyone else. He was lost in the wilderness, just like in a story his cousin Eric had told him. Only he knew a bear wouldn’t get him, not in these woods. Hadn’t he been all over them and not seen a single bear? He knew where there was a badger sett and a foxhole with cubs an’ all. He knew where the rabbit warren began on the edge of the woods but he hadn’t seen a bear.

  ‘You’re a soft lad, Ronnie Robson,’ his gran had said to him when he came in all upset because Eric had shouted after him, ‘Loony! Loony!’

  ‘Why didn’t you give him a clout around the ear? You’re bigger than he is, any road. He’s nowt but a bully, that lad, he’ll come to no good, I can tell you. By, I’ll have a word with his mother I will an’ all.’

  Ronnie knew he was a soft lad; he was told it often enough. But he wasn’t a loony, no he was not. He had gone into the woods up beyond Eden Hope and listened to the birds. They were building nests and they twittered and sang and flew about busily, and he calmed down and sat very still, just watching and listening. He liked it in the woods. He liked to be with the other lads too but if Eric was there they chased him away.

  He’d been in the woods all night, though, and he didn’t like that. It was when he had seen the girl coming along the path. She had seen him and run away crying, and he forgot his own troubles altogether and ran after her. He had slipped on the path and went tumbling head over heels down the bankside and landed up in a heap on the bottom. He tried to stand but he couldn’t.

  Cath was now picking her way down to the heap of old clothes. For one horrible minute she had thought it might be Annie but it wasn’t, she could see that as she got near. Annie wouldn’t be wearing an army surplus greatcoat and corduroy trousers. The coat was the same colour as Annie’s, a sort of dark cream colour and, from the top of the bank, she had been fooled but now she could see it wasn’t Annie’s.

  ‘Please, God,’ she prayed as she stood still by a patch of old nettle stalks with a few new green shoots just coming through, ‘Please God, don’t let him be dead.’

  ‘Gran? Gran? I’m frightened. Take me home, Gran.’ He sounded like a little lad.

  He wasn’t dead, he was moving. He turned his head to look at her and his face was bruised and scratched from where he had fallen through the undergrowth. He had taken off his boot and his foot was blue and white and swollen.

  ‘Ronnie!’ She hadn’t seen him for years, not since they had moved to the prefabs, but Ronnie was unmistakable. His skin was normally yellowish, though now a pallor was showing through and he was shivering violently. His clothes were wet from the tiny stream.

  ‘What happened?’ Cath asked. ‘Come on, let me help you get out of the water. Can you walk?’ But of course he couldn’t walk, she told herself crossly. Not even Ronnie would have stayed in the water if he could have walked.

  ‘I can’t move, lass,’ he moaned. ‘It hurts and I want my gran.’

  Cath took hold of his shoulder and tried to pull him clear but he shouted with pain. ‘Come on, you have to help me,’ said Cath. ‘Put your weight on your good foot and push.’

  She managed to move him only a few inches but at least he was out of the water. He was sweating now; she could smell the rank odour of him, and his nose was running.

  ‘Have you seen my sister? A little girl? She hasn’t come home either.’

  Ronnie moaned but didn’t answer, and Cath shook his shoulder until he focused on her.

  ‘A little girl? Do you know Annie? A girl about ten? Ronnie!’

  ‘Aye, a little lass, I did see a little lass. Before it was dark though. She was running along the path. I ran after her and she fell down and then I fell down and she went away. I was only going to tell her about the badgers.’

  Cath stared at him. Had he really seen Annie? It was hard to tell. Maybe he was just repeating what she’d said. It was best to get help for him now. She could ask him about Annie later.

  It took only fifteen minutes for her to run into the village to old Mrs Robson’s house in the rows, and soon she was on her way back with a couple of off-shift miners. They made a chair with their hands and carried Ronnie down to the rows with Cath trailing behind.

  ‘You don’t have to stay, I can manage,’ Mrs Robson said to her. ‘The doctor’s on his way and I have neighbours, you know.’ She must have realised she sounded short and, as an afterthought, she added, ‘Thanks for what you did. Don’t think I’m not grateful, I am. And I’m sure our Ronnie will be an’ all.’

  Cath was reminded once again that most of the folk in Eden Hope disapproved of her and her mother, even her little sister. She had to speak to Ronnie.

  ‘I wanted to ask him about my sister,’ she protested. ‘It will only take a minute; she’s been missing since last night. Ronnie said he had seen her.’

  Mrs Robson bridled. ‘You’re not saying my Ronnie had anything to do with her going missing, are you? By, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that, but he did say he’d seen her,’ Cath insisted.

  ‘Well, you cannot be bothering him now, you can see how he’s held,’ Mrs Robson said firmly.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Look, here’s Dr Short an’ all. Go on, I’ll ask Ronnie if he’s seen her. He’ll likely talk better to me,’ said Mrs Robson. She had edged Cath to the door and was standing in the opening, blocking it as though defending her young. The doctor had walked up the yard and was standing waiting to get in and Cath had perforce to move away.

  ‘He’s seen our Annie, Mam,’ Cath said when she got back to Half Hidden Cottage. ‘He’d seen her, he said so; he ran after her.’

  ‘The loony ran after her? Did he say that? By, I’m away down to Eden Hope and I’ll get to know what he’s done with my little lass, I will. I’ll have the truth out of him, see if I don’t!’

  Cath was taken aback by this change in Sadie’s attitude. Suddenly her mother was concerned for Annie, as concerned as Cath could wish for. But she hadn’t wished it to be like this.

  ‘Mam, don’t, the lad’s not well, he’s broken his ankle and I think he’s got a fever. I—’

  Sadie interrupted, her voice rising ready to do battle. ‘I’ll give him fever if he’s hurt my lass,’ she said grimly. ‘And that gran of his, an’ all. He shouldn’t have been living in the village, any road; he should have been in the mental hospital in
Winterton. That’s the only place for such as him; he’s not fit to be living among decent folk.’

  Sadie was pulling on her coat as she spoke. She went to the mirror on the wall and fluffed out her hair and applied lipstick to her already red lips. Cath watched, dumbstruck. Her mother never ceased to amaze her. Only yesterday she had been saying that Annie would end up in Winterton. She didn’t care about her daughter but she was ready for a fight, especially one that might get the village up in arms and on her side for a change.

  ‘Mam, don’t,’ Cath said at last.

  ‘Don’t what? I have to find the bairn, don’t I? You were on at me to find her long enough. But I never thought she was in danger, no I didn’t, especially not from a loony. Well, now I know she is I’m going to find out what he’s done with her and if he’s done anything, anything at all, the dirty bugger, I’ll flay him alive, I will, I’m telling you.’

  ‘Mam, we don’t know that he’s done anything. In fact, I don’t think he has. He’s not a bad lad, you know he isn’t.’

  ‘He’s not all there, is he? How do we know what he thinks or does? Sometimes he looks at me with a very funny look, he does an’ all.’

  ‘He doesn’t mean anything,’ said Cath. Sometimes Ronnie did gaze blankly at people, it was true. But it was just as a baby or a young child would. ‘He’s trying to understand, that’s all, poor lad.’

  ‘Aye, well, I’ll make him understand, see if I don’t,’ said Sadie and rushed out of the front door. She hadn’t got far before she was back; she’d forgotten what a walk it was to Eden Hope. ‘I’ll call Henry,’ she said. ‘He’ll help me. He’ll give me a ride to the village, anyway.’

  Cath stood by; she had to stop her mother from shouting accusations at Ronnie Robson without proof that he had done anything. Suddenly she remembered a day long ago when she and Annie had been for a walk and they had seen Ronnie in a gap in the hedge. She had been about to greet him but then she realised that he had his fly open and his penis in his hand. She had thought he was simply about to urinate but maybe he wasn’t; maybe he was playing with himself. She had rushed Annie away in any case, before she saw anything. But surely this was different, Ronnie wouldn’t do anything to a little girl, she told herself. Of course he would not. But a tiny doubt was sown.

  ‘I’m going to catch the bus into Eden Hope and go and see my dad again. He’ll be in this morning; he’s on night shift. And Annie might be there too by now.’

  Sadie was sobbing into the receiver, telling Henry, Cath presumed. ‘Give me a lift into Eden Hope, please, Henry,’ she pleaded. She listened to the reply then raised her voice. ‘Why not? Who cares if anyone sees us together? Everybody knows, any road. Henry!’ She was still talking when Cath went out and ran down the drive, in time to catch the United bus to Eden Hope just as Sadie could have done. But Sadie liked to ride in style nowadays, she thought bitterly.

  Once in the village, Cath skirted the rows and made for the new houses. Alf was in by himself, for Gerda had gone to the shops. He answered the door with his braces hanging down by the sides of his trousers, his shirt with no collar and the top button open.

  ‘Cath!’ he said in surprise and smiled broadly. ‘Howay in, I’m just mashing the tea.’

  ‘Have you seen our Annie?’ Cath asked without preamble. ‘We’ve lost our Annie, Dad, did Gerda say?’

  ‘Gerda? No, she said nowt. When did you see her?’

  ‘I came last night.’ Cath felt bitter that Gerda hadn’t thought to say anything to her father.

  ‘Last night? Do you mean the bairn’s been missing since yesterday?’ Alf was the first person to respond to Annie’s disappearance with alarm and Cath was grateful. She felt a rush of affection for him.

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I’ve looked everywhere for her and nobody cares. But now Mam thinks it might have been Ronnie Robson—’

  ‘Ronnie Robson? The lad that’s not all there, do you mean? Why? Why would she think that?’

  So Cath told him all that had happened since the day before.

  ‘I’ll get me jacket,’ said Alf. ‘We’ll look for her. Me and me marras.’

  ‘But Alf, you have not sleep!’ wailed Gerda, who had come in while Cath was talking. ‘How you go to work tonight? We need the money for the baby.’

  ‘Is that all you think about, woman?’ Alf said savagely. ‘Annie is my bairn an’ all, you know. You wait here, don’t go out in case Annie comes here.’

  It didn’t take long for Alf to rouse his marras. In the event there was a crowd of them searching in the woods and fields round about Eden Hope and Winton and even up the opposite side of the valley, spreading out into wide circles, but they didn’t find her. The police had been alerted and were taking it seriously now. Sergeant Duffy, back in the tiny police station at Eden Hope, was defensive when Cath confronted him.

  ‘Many a lass stays out late,’ he said in self-defence because he hadn’t bothered the night before. ‘If we looked for all of them we would be doing nowt else. You yourself said your sister had only been gone a couple of hours. It was too soon. But we are looking for her now, aren’t we?’

  Alf and his marras couldn’t find any clue out in the woods or fields.

  ‘She might have gone home; we wouldn’t know, out here on the bankside,’ Jack Lowe said at last. ‘Me and you could go and see, Alf. Any road, we’re knackered, we could do with a break.’

  Alf demurred but the men were ready to go back, he could see that. After all, they had worked the night shift and had had very little sleep since. In the end he agreed, and the men trudged back home while Alf and Jack headed off for Half Hidden Cottage. The place was deserted so their journey was fruitless. They too went back to Eden Hope, lucky enough to catch the bus.

  There was a crowd in the back street outside Mrs Robson’s house, all trying to get into the back yard at least. Sergeant Duffy was there and a policeman from the town, standing in front of the gate.

  ‘Go away or you’ll all find yourselves in the lock-up for the night,’ the sergeant was shouting. ‘The lad’s not here, I’m telling you, there’s only old Mrs Robson. You should be ashamed to be frightening her like this, you should an’ all.’ He folded his arms and stood with his feet apart, his bulk blocking the gateway.

  ‘Where is he then? Where’s the loony? He’s done something to my little lass, and we’ll have him for it. We’ll cut his bloody balls off when we get hold of him, I promise you that, Sergeant Duffy. An’ nobody will blame us for it, will they?’

  It was Sadie who was shouting, her voice shrill and venomous. Alf fought his way through the crowd to her side.

  ‘Oh, so you’ve come, have you? I didn’t think you could spare the time from your fancy piece to look for our Annie,’ said Sadie. Her eyes sparkled and there was a high colour in her cheeks. She is enjoying herself, Cath thought bitterly.

  ‘Gerda’s my wife!’ Alf shouted back at her. ‘She’s more of a wife than you ever were, an’ all.’

  ‘And Annie’s your bairn, or had you forgotten that?’

  ‘You should have looked after her,’ said Alf. ‘I heard you were gadding about in your fancy-man’s car.’

  ‘Stop it, please,’ begged Cath. ‘It’s no good playing war now, it’s our Annie we have to think about.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right,’ said Alf. ‘Does anyone know where Ronnie Robson is? I’m not saying he did anything, mind, but if he says he saw the lass—’

  ‘He was taken to the cottage hospital, Lady Eden’s, you know,’ the sergeant said quietly in Alf’s ear, but Sadie heard him.

  ‘Lady Eden’s!’ she cried. ‘The sod’s in Lady Eden’s, that’s where he is. Getting his poor little foot attended to, I suppose.’ The last was spoken in a parody of sympathy. ‘Did you hear that, you lot? Let’s away into Bishop, we’ll haul him out of there. By, he’ll tell me the truth or I’ll know the reason why, I will, I swear I will!’

  ‘Howay, missus!’ cried a new voice, a young man’s voice. Eve
ryone turned to him: it was John Robson, one of Ronnie’s cousins, and with him were a few other lads from Winton. ‘Let’s away,’ he went on. ‘Let’s show him what we think of beasts that molest little lasses!’

  It was like a rallying cry, and the crowd turned round and surged down the row and along the top on the road to the town. Some of them walked, some ran and the lucky few who happened to be at the bus stop when the bus pulled in climbed aboard, Sadie among them.

  ‘We’ll have you all for this!’ Sergeant Duffy yelled. ‘Causing an affray, public disorder—’ He was spluttering to the backs of most of them, for they were caught up in the excitement, women as well as men. Only a few remained behind, among them Cath, Alf and Jack Lowe and the two policemen.

  ‘We’ll take the taxi,’ said Alf, then looked at Sergeant Duffy. ‘Not that I’m going to do anything to the lad but I have to know what’s happening. You never know, he might know where she is. You come with us, Cath.’

  Sergeant Duffy looked stunned at what had happened. After all, most of the families in his area were law-abiding, chapel-going folk and for a near riot to develop so quickly – well, he couldn’t believe it. He collected himself and turned to the policeman from the town. ‘You stay here and keep folk out of the old woman’s house. I’ll have to go back to the station and ring the inspector in the town, warn him, like.’

  The crowd walking along the public footpath through the fields to South Church, and then along the road past the ancient St Andrew’s Church and up to Cockton Hill, were angry and voluble with it. Everyone who saw them could see that, and a lot of people did see it for the noise brought people out of their houses to gape and then to ask what the commotion was all about. Some of the onlookers joined them. By the time they arrived at the cottage hospital there were a few hundred of them and the police were calling for reinforcements. Nothing like it had been seen since the 1930s and the hunger marches. But the hunger marches had been orderly, while this was a rabble.

  Chapter Fifteen