Diamonds in the Dust

by Beryl Matthews

  He leant heavily on the stick and sighed. It was a beautiful May evening and he should go to the local pub for a pint, but it all seemed so aimless. What he needed was something to make him feel useful and occupy his mind. The doctors didn’t hold out much hope that he would ever gain full use of his leg again, but he wasn’t listening to them. He was going to walk properly, and then the police force would have to consider him. He knew he was going to have to fight as fiercely as he had in the trenches, but he had to succeed, or there would be only empty years ahead of him. In the meantime he mustn’t allow self-pity to overwhelm him. He was a lot better off than many of the men who’d fought in that terrible war. This house was his, left to him by his grandfather along with a small inheritance. It wasn’t much, but if he was careful he could manage quite well. The money wouldn’t last much more than another year or two, though, so he’d have to find employment soon.

  He watched three youngsters walking along hand in hand and recognised them as the Bentley children. From the little he’d seen of them they were well behaved and always clean and tidy. A rare smile touched his mouth as he studied the youngest. She was going to be a real beauty when she grew up. The eldest girl wasn’t bad, either. She was quite pretty in a serious kind of way, with a strong sense of responsibility, he guessed. They did have a mother, he knew, because he had seen her a few times, but she never spoke, and didn’t appear to be around much.

  The smile disappeared as they hesitated at his gate, had a hurried discussion, and then came up the path. What the …? He swore as he turned too quickly and nearly lost his balance. He was tempted not to answer the knock on his door, but curiosity got the better of him.

  When he opened the door he glanced at the youngest and found himself mesmerised by a pair of bright green eyes.

  ‘I’m at school with June.’ Lily didn’t give anyone else a chance to speak. ‘She said you used to be a policeman. We need help.’

  ‘That was a long time ago.’

  ‘You’re clever. June said so.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how I could be of any help to you.’ He tapped the stick, wanting to get rid of them now. ‘As you can see, I can’t get around very well.’

  Lily looked at the stick, and then up at his face. ‘You can tell us what to do. You don’t have to be able to walk to do that.’

  ‘Lily!’ The older girl scolded. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Crawford, we shouldn’t have bothered you.’

  He could feel the concern coming from them as they turned away, and their crestfallen expressions at his response tugged at him. He must be mad, but what else did he have to do? ‘Wait! Why don’t you come in and tell me all about it?’

  Lily rushed in without hesitation, pulling her brother and sister behind her, declaring, ‘There, I told you he was nice.’

  He ushered them into the front room and waited as they all sat close together on the settee, clearly nervous. Then he eased himself into a chair. ‘First of all tell me your names.’

  ‘I’m Dora, this is Tom and Lily, my brother and sister.’

  He nodded. ‘What’s the problem, and how do you think I can help you?’

  ‘We need to find someone and we don’t know how to do it.’ He leant forward, intrigued. Dora had said someone, not something. ‘Do you know where they live?’

  Tom nodded. ‘They’re not there.’

  ‘If they’ve got a job you could check with their employers.’

  ‘We’ve done that, sir,’ Tom said. ‘We was told they worked at Grant’s on the night shift, but they haven’t got a night shift, and they told Dora that sh … this person’s never worked there.’

  He sat bolt upright as a picture came into his head of their mother leaving the house every evening around six o’clock. ‘Are you talking about your mother?’

  ‘Blimey, sir, you soon worked that one out.’ Tom was impressed.

  Lily’s face had drained of all colour at the mention of her mother. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone, Mr Crawford. Dora said that people might not like us being on our own, but she takes good care of us, always has.’

  For a moment he was speechless. Then it began to dawn on him the predicament these youngsters now found themselves in. He didn’t know how old Dora was, but her suitability for caring for her siblings might well be questioned.

  ‘Please!’ Lily had scrambled off the settee and was now standing in front of him, her eyes pleading. ‘I don’t want no one to take me away. Dora’s eighteen soon. We’ll be all right then.’

  ‘I promise not to mention it. Whatever you tell me is between us only.’ He smiled reassuringly at Lily, noting that Dora was older than he had first thought. ‘Don’t you worry. We’ll sort this out.’

  A little colour seeped back into Lily’s face, and she returned to her seat.

  Stan could feel his mind beginning to work, just like the old days. It was odd that the children believed their mother worked nights when she clearly didn’t. He was intrigued – no, more than that, he was excited by the mystery. ‘Let’s deal with the practical things first. Are you renting the house you live in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right, then don’t tell the landlord your mother isn’t there. Dora, can you afford to pay the rent, and who usually gives him the money?’

  ‘I have a little put by. It’ll last for a couple of weeks, and I’ve got a job. I usually pay the rent collector when he calls.’

  ‘Good, then he won’t be suspicious if he doesn’t see your mother. Now you’d better tell me the whole story. Don’t leave anything out even if it seems trivial to you. I need every detail.’

  As he listened to Dora explain about their missing mother, Stan felt the back of his neck begin to tingle. He didn’t like what he was hearing. This woman obviously thought a lot of her children, and they of her. She would not have walked out on them without a word. The lie about the kind of work she was doing was worrying. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He hoped he was wrong, but his instinct was telling him that something bad had happened here.

  By the end of the story he knew that he was going to help them. To get involved in an investigation like this was just what he needed to put the life back in him. But more than that, he wanted to do what he could for these children. They were showing great courage, and he admired them for that. However, before he began the search he felt honour-bound to suggest the obvious, although he already knew they didn’t want to do this. ‘You should report your mother’s disappearance to the police.’

  ‘We know that.’ Tom was immediately on his feet, agitated. ‘But it’s only been one day and we don’t want anyone sticking their noses in our business just yet. If that’s the only suggestion you’ve got then we’ll find someone else to help us!’

  Ah, the boy had a quick temper, Stan noted, but it was also clear that all three of them were intelligent. They must be frightened and confused, but they hadn’t panicked.

  Tom held out his hand to Lily. ‘Come on, we’re wasting our time here.’

  Stan pulled himself out of the chair, and even leaning on the stick, he towered over Tom. ‘No you’re not. I’ll do what I can for you. I’ve still got friends at the local station. They know I’m desperate to get back so they won’t think it odd if I drop in to see them from time to time, eager to hear about cases they’re working on. Whatever’s happening in this area goes through them. But if she doesn’t turn up in two or three days, the police will have to be told.’

  ‘You won’t say anything about our mum for the moment, will you?’ Dora looked worried at his insistence that the disappearance be reported soon.

  ‘I won’t break my promise to you. I’ll listen, and if anything seems odd, I’ll investigate it on my own. They’ll never know I’m only interested in one person.’ ‘We’ll help,’ Dora suggested, eyeing the stick he was leaning on. ‘You don’t find it easy getting around.’

  ‘I’ll manage.’ He grimaced. ‘The exercise will do me good, but I’ll ask if I need you to do things for me now and again.�
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  ‘I was going to the hospitals tomorrow. It’s my half day off.’

  ‘You leave that to me. I want the three of you to act as normal, and don’t do anything to draw attention to the fact that your mother isn’t there.’ He turned to Lily, who was examining the dog’s head on his stick. ‘Now, young lady, if your mother does come home, I want you to rush round here and let me know at once. Can you do that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She rested the stick back against his chair again and gave a wan smile. ‘That’s pretty.’

  ‘It was my father’s.’ He glanced at the boy and saw that he had now calmed down. ‘Rest assured, I’ll do everything I can for you. And I can be trusted, Tom.’

  Tom nodded. ‘Sorry I lost my temper, sir. We don’t understand why Mum hasn’t come home, or why she told us lies about where she worked. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It’s a mystery, I agree. Have you been through your mother’s things?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Dora was horrified. ‘We never touch Mum’s room.’

  ‘You’ll have to now, Dora.’ Stan spoke gently. ‘There might be papers, or something there to tell where she went every night. And I’ll need a photograph of your mother, if you’ve got one.’

  ‘Yes, of course, we’ll let you have that in the morning, and anything else we find.’ Dora got to her feet. ‘It’s your bedtime, Lily. Thank Mr Crawford for seeing us and listening to our troubles.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Lily held on to her sister’s hand and gazed up at him. ‘It was my idea to come to you. We haven’t got anyone else, you see.’

  ‘I’m glad you did.’ Much to Stan’s surprise he meant it. There was a bubble of excitement and anticipation running through him, and he hadn’t felt anything like that for a long time. ‘You sleep well, and you never know, she might be home in the morning. But if she isn’t, we’ll find out what’s happened to her.’

  At the door, Tom whispered, ‘It doesn’t look good, does it? No way would Mum leave us unless she was …’

  Stan placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder to stop him finishing the sentence. ‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions. It’s too early yet.’

  ‘No, you’re quite right, sir. Hope we can find her soon, though.’

  ‘We’ll do our best. And the name’s Stan.’

  Tom gave him a grateful smile, and then hurried to catch up with his sisters.

  The first job was to get Lily to bed. It had been a long and worrying day for all of them, and the little girl was almost asleep before they’d tucked her in. She was even too tired to listen to a bit of the story Dora read to her every night at bedtime.

  Tom and Dora hesitated outside their mother’s bedroom.

  ‘We’ve got to do it, Dora,’ Tom urged. ‘I know Mum always made her room off limits to us, but this is different. We have to see if there’s anything here that will help Stan get the search going.’

  ‘Stan?’

  ‘He told me to call him that,’ Tom told her proudly. ‘Nice bloke. Shame he got messed up in the war.’

  Dora silently agreed. Stan Crawford was an impressive man. He looked to be over six feet, even leaning on the stick for support, hair as dark as night and the clear blue eyes a startling contrast. A shiver rippled through her when she remembered how he had studied her – all of them – and she’d felt as if he could read every thought in her head. It was silly, of course, but the intensity of his bright eyes gave the impression that nothing was hidden from him. He would be handsome if his face wasn’t grey and lined with pain. So many were still suffering because of the war, and it always upset her when she saw them. So many young lives had been ended or ruined with crippling injuries.

  Tom opened their mother’s bedroom door. ‘Come on, Dora, let’s see if we can find anything.’

  The room was clean and tidy, as was the whole house. Their mother had always made them put everything away when they’d finished with it. That’s what drawers and cupboards are for, she had told them. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a bed, wardrobe and dressing table.

  ‘This won’t take long. You start with the wardrobe, Tom, and I’ll go through the dressing table.’

  Fifteen minutes later Dora closed the last drawer. ‘There’s nothing here. How are you doing?’

  ‘Only clothes and shoes inside.’ He dragged a chair up to the wardrobe and climbed on it, running his hands over the top. ‘Nothing here either.’

  Frowning in puzzlement Dora scanned the room. ‘That’s strange. I would have expected to find photos, letters and things like that. There’s nothing personal here except make-up and clothes, and we know there’s nothing in the front room. I always assumed she kept papers and things in here.’

  Tom peered under the bed and then pulled himself up to sit on the edge. ‘There isn’t even any dust under there. If there’s anything here, then she’s hidden it well.’

  Dora didn’t like the idea of their mother hiding things from them, but after today that was something they would have to accept. ‘We haven’t looked behind the wardrobe. Help me pull it out, Tom.’

  After struggling with the heavy piece of furniture they found nothing, and the same with the dressing table.

  ‘That’s it then.’ Dora was despondent. ‘There’s nowhere else to look. What are you doing, Tom?’

  He was tugging the covers off the bed and dropping them on the floor. ‘If I wanted to hide something, this is where I’d put it.’

  Dora was very uneasy about this, and reluctant to admit that there were things their mother had kept from them.

  Tom saw the expression on her face. ‘Come on, Dora, Mum’s been lying to us about her job. What else has she kept from us? Give me a hand with this mattress.’

  They pulled the huge feather mattress off the bed, and gazed at what they had uncovered. At the foot of the bed was a small parcel, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

  Dora felt tears of disappointment prick her eyes and murmured, ‘What have you been hiding from us, Mum?’

  They sat on the floor and opened it. It contained a small notebook, a batch of letters tied up with ribbon and a black velvet box.

  Tom was turning the pages of the notebook and shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t make sense. It’s all numbers.’

  ‘Well, it’s Mum’s writing.’ Dora examined it carefully, but Tom was right. Each page had a series of numbers grouped together. ‘We’ll give this to Mr Crawford in the morning. He might be able to make some sense of it.’

  Dora ran her fingers through the bundle of letters, and then put them down.

  ‘Shouldn’t we read them?’ Tom asked.

  ‘They’re personal letters, Tom. Probably from Dad over the years. I wouldn’t feel easy about reading them.’

  ‘Suppose not. Wow! Look at this.’ Tom had opened the velvet box and held out a sparkly necklace. ‘Cor, it looks like diamonds.’

  Dora took it from him and held it up to the light. ‘It’s only glass, Tom. Where would Mum get diamonds? It’s just a keepsake with happy memories, I expect.’

  He pulled a face. ‘You’re right. The likes of us don’t have diamonds. It must have meant a lot to her though, or else she wouldn’t have hidden it. Perhaps it was a present from Dad when they were courting.’

  ‘Must have been. Isn’t there anything else?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’ He shook the brown paper packet and something fell out. ‘Hold on a minute, what’s this?’

  Dora knew as soon as she saw it. ‘Money. How much is there, Tom?’

  He counted it. ‘Five pounds! What the bloody hell is she hiding that for?’

  ‘I’ve told you about swearing, Tom. Now cut it out!’

  ‘This business is enough to make a saint swear.’

  She silently agreed with him, but wasn’t going to admit it. ‘Let’s put everything back except the book. We might need the money later on, but I’ll use my savings first.’

  ‘Er … I still think we ought to read the letters.’
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  ‘Certainly not, Tom! They’re private.’

  It didn’t take them long to put the room back as it had been, and after a cup of cocoa, they got ready for bed, exhausted and troubled.

  ‘I’m really glad Mr Crawford has agreed to help us because I’m completely confused.’

  ‘If Mum turns up tomorrow she’ll have a lot of explaining to do.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s coming back, Tom,’ Dora said quietly.

  ‘Nor me. She’s gone, Dora, but where?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea, but I’m sick with worry that something dreadful has happened. We’ll have to hope Mr Crawford can find her.’

  Chapter Three

  He’d been awake most of the night, but that wasn’t unusual. It was damned difficult to sleep with the pain. The doctors had wanted to amputate his leg, but he’d yelled at them until they’d agreed to patch it up. Pain was the price he was prepared to pay for keeping his leg. Though some nights when it was particularly bad he did wonder if he’d made the right decision.

  After finishing his breakfast, Stan sat at the kitchen table, tucked the photograph of Mrs Bentley in his pocket, then opened the little book Tom had brought him before going to school. He turned the pages, frowning. Whatever information the book held, it had been put in such a way that only Mrs Bentley could understand it. It might just be a diary, but he doubted it. She had gone to a lot of trouble to keep whatever was in it a secret. But he couldn’t understand why she would want to keep a collection of numbers a secret. Unless they were a code? He would have to give it some thought later. It was intriguing.

  ‘Oh, you’ve had your breakfast.’