by Caron Allan
Gervase was as good as his word, arriving a bare ten minutes later. Dottie was by then dreading his reaction when he knew why she had been so upset.
He came in to find her in the kitchen, still drying the dishes and putting them away. Penny and Miranda were sitting at the kitchen table, which Dottie thought was odd, as they didn’t offer any help and seemed to find the position uncomfortable. As soon as she saw Gervase, Penny threw herself at him.
‘Thank goodness you’re here! We’re in such a state. It’s Margaret. She’s disappeared without a trace. We’re beside ourselves with worry.’
He disengaged Penny’s fingers from his jacket, saying calmly, ‘That explains why no one answered the door just now. I had to use your spare key.’ He couldn’t help seeing Dottie’s look of utter disbelief. He turned to Dottie, tweaked the towel out of her hand, and throwing it aside, he put his arms around her.
‘Are you all right, darling?’ He spoke softly, for her ears alone.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He guided her to the table, seated her, and took the seat opposite Penny and Miranda, who glared at Dottie.
‘Tell me everything.’ He spoke to Dottie but Penny was the one who began to speak.
‘Gervase, darling, now you mustn’t be cross, but we’re just a little concerned. We haven’t seen Margaret since breakfast-time, and there’s been no word from her. We don’t know what to think. And there’s poor little Stephen to think about. He’ll have to go into an orphanage.’
‘Simon,’ both Dottie and Gervase said. Gervase frowned, and Dottie said:
‘An orphanage? But—no, Penny, he can’t possibly...’
Gervase shot Penny a furious look. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘I realise it must sound dreadfully harsh, but really, I can’t possibly keep him here.’ Penny’s tone was petulant. Miranda was nodding vigorously.
‘Oh absolutely,’ she said.
Gervase shook his head. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What are you talking about? Surely you can’t think Margaret is not coming back?’
Penny said, ‘We don’t know what to think, Gervase. But I’m adamant I’m not keeping that little brat here.’
Gervase turned back to Dottie. ‘Tell me everything.’
The police arrived less than an hour later. Penny, outraged at what she saw as an unnecessary fuss, retired to bed, much to Dottie’s relief. Miranda went to sit in the drawing room and listen to the radio. The sergeant listened to Dottie as she explained when she last saw Margaret and gave a little background information about Margaret and the household. He wrote down her description of Margaret and promised a search would commence immediately. Dottie left him in discussion with Gervase in the dining room and went to the kitchen to make the men coffee.
Waiting for the kettle to boil, she stood looking out the window. The intermittent rain had stopped again, and the garden was still sunlit at half past ten. The long summer days were wonderful, she thought, but this one had seemed neverending. The sun streaked the lawn and plants with warm golds and oranges, but Dottie was shivering.
‘Where are you, Margaret?’ she whispered. In her heart she felt an overwhelming conviction: Margaret was dead. She would not return for her son.
Chapter Eighteen
GERVASE CAME BACK IN the morning. He declined a cup of coffee and stood hovering in the doorway as if ready for action. ‘Perhaps we might take a look in Margaret’s room?’ he suggested.
Dottie said, ‘Surely the police have searched her room? They went up there last night.’
‘I want to check it for myself.’
‘Of course,’ she said. They went into the hall. ‘I took a quick look in there myself yesterday. But it was only to see if she was in bed, or something. I thought she might be ill. She hasn’t looked too well since Reggie... I didn’t really have a good look around.’
To Dottie, it felt like a testing moment. She began to feel afraid of what she might discover. When he held back at the foot of the stairs to allow her to precede him, she went on past him gladly, telling herself she would need to show him the way. Her chest felt tight with the tension. She couldn’t bear it. Because if he knew the way to Margaret’s room...
She went on ahead, talking non-stop. She had no idea what she was saying; it didn’t matter in any case. All that mattered was that she should fill the silence, and she mustn’t look into his eyes in case she should read the truth there.
‘It’s this way,’ she told him, and turned through the staff door to go up the next flight of stairs. ‘Margaret’s room is along here, next to Simon’s, of course.’
‘Is he in his room?’
It was the first thing he’d said for two minutes—the first thing he’d had the chance of saying, with all her talk.
‘No, he’s downstairs in the kitchen. Mrs Bains is making cakes and he’s helping.’
Gervase laughed. ‘Excellent. That’s one of the favourite occupations of small boys, as I can personally attest.’
She smiled but didn’t meet his eyes.
‘I know you’re anxious about Margaret, Dottie darling, but have I done something to upset you?’ He halted on reaching the landing and pulled her to him. With gentle hands he cupped her face and tilted it up to look into his eyes. ‘Dottie?’ He said her name softly, lovingly, and all her doubts fell away. He kissed her, and she knew she would forgive him anything and everything in that moment. There was a pause, and he kissed her again, lightly this time, on the tip of her nose, and he gave her a sad smile. ‘Come on, dear. It might all turn out all right, it’s too soon to give up hope yet.’
But he stepped over and opened the third door, Margaret’s door, and at that moment her heart knew what her head had always believed: he was Simon’s father.
She took a steadying breath as she stared at his shoulders. He went into the room, standing there in the middle of the floor and looking around him. She took another breath. He had lied all along, but only to keep her from being upset, she told herself now. And now, of all times, it was not the moment to argue over the events of the past. She took another breath and willed it all to fall away: her sense of betrayal, the childish urge to be his one and only love, the need to keep him up there on that pedestal.
She went to open the drawers of the bedside cabinet. It gave her a moment or two to hide her tears and pull herself together. With Gervase crossing to the window, it was easy to quickly brush the tears away and put a smile on her face as she turned to reply to his comment, ‘Not much here, is there?’
‘No, there isn’t.’ She made herself focus on the moment. She looked inside the narrow wardrobe.
‘Her clothes are gone,’ he observed, peering over her shoulder.
‘Yes.’
He was frowning and she could hear it in his voice. ‘So she’s simply run away.’
But was he angry because he thought she’d left him without a word, or because the police were looking for her as a missing person, thinking she might have suffered harm?
Dottie sighed. She felt cold and depressed. ‘She hasn’t run away.’ She indicated the empty wardrobe, with its half-dozen bare wire hangers. ‘This is all just a smokescreen.’
He stared at her. This time, he was prepared to listen to what she had to say. ‘What makes you say that?’
Dottie counted the points on her fingers. ‘Firstly, she would never leave her son.’ And in her head she said, your son. ‘And secondly, no woman goes away without her under-things or her powder compact.’ She indicated the drawers by the bed.
He took a look. ‘Hmm. Interesting.’
She couldn’t help noticing that some of Margaret’s undergarments were new and expensive-looking. Well beyond the wages of a domestic servant. A gift then. From her lover. Dottie forced herself to look away, but then she had to look back. She watched him searching through everything and couldn’t keep from picturing him buying the garments, running his hands over the fine delicate fabrics. She wondered if he recognis
ed any of the items. He slammed the drawer shut, making her jump.
And then she saw it. A slip of paper that had fallen down between the bed and the bedside cabinet, just poking out from under the bed. She pointed to it, and Gervase bent and pulled it out. He flattened it out and read out loud:
‘I’m so very sorry. I’ve been so wicked. I’ve done such a terrible thing.
I can’t forgive myself. Please look after Simon. I’m so sorry.
Margaret.’
When they returned the following morning, naturally the police insisted on speaking to Simon about his mother. The boy sat, rigid and pale, at the kitchen table, an untouched glass of milk and a slice of cherry cake beside him. Dottie took the seat next to him, and a kindly sergeant sat opposite.
He smiled at Simon and said, ‘Now then, young sir, perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell me when you last saw your mother? It will help us to get her back to you as soon as possible.’
Simon sent him a sceptical look, and Dottie covered her mouth with her hand. Simon spoke up clearly and concisely, expressing himself as well as a child of eleven or twelve.
As the sergeant made a note of everything Simon told him, he quirked an eyebrow at Dottie, impressed with the lad’s intelligence and composure. Simon’s account was still the same as the one he’d given Dottie the afternoon before. At the end, he looked at her a little uncertainly, and she patted his arm.
‘Well done, Simon,’ she said, and the sergeant nodded vigorously.
‘Yes indeed, very clear, thank you, young fellow.’ The sergeant sipped the tea Dottie had made for him. By now she had lost count of how many pots of tea she’d made for the police. ‘Now then, I’d just like to have a word with Miss Manderson alone, so if you don’t mind taking yourself off somewhere for a few minutes.’
‘You could take your milk and cake into the garden,’ Dottie suggested. ‘It’s lovely and sunny.’
‘I’m not allowed to take glasses into the garden.’
‘Oh—er—well, just the cake then. You can have the milk when you come back.’
He slid down from the table, and very carefully, using both hands, he carried the plate of cake to the door. He turned back. ‘My mummy’s a nice lady,’ he said. ‘I don’t want anyone to think bad things about her.’
Dottie and the sergeant exchanged a look. ‘No, of course not, dear. I know your mummy—she’s a very nice and kind lady, and she loves you very much,’ Dottie told him. She felt as though her heart was breaking.
Simon said, ‘Is she dead?’
Completely taken aback, the sergeant said, far too heartily, ‘Now why would you think a thing like that? Of course she’s not...’
But Simon set down the cake and ran outside with a sob, slamming the door behind him. Dottie’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Now don’t you take on, young lady, we’ve got to hope for the best.’
‘But the note...’ She shook her head and dabbed at her face with her handkerchief. ‘I’ve got a terrible feeling he’s right. I don’t know Margaret very well, no matter what I said to Simon, but I do know this: she loves him, and she always puts him first. She would never go anywhere without him unless she had no choice about the matter.’
‘Mrs Parfitt says she’s done this before,’ the sergeant commented. Dottie wasn’t sure quite how much to say about her hostess.
‘I’m not sure Mrs Parfitt likes Margaret very much.’
‘So you don’t think she’s the kind of woman to go off like this on a jaunt for a day or two?’
‘As I said, I don’t know her very well. I only met Mrs Parfitt recently and she invited me to stay with her. But from what I’ve seen of Margaret, she seems to be a devoted mother. She confided to me just two days ago that she is hoping to leave here and buy her own home with the legacy she received from Mrs Parfitt’s late husband. She said she was going to choose a house near to a good school so that her son could get a decent education. And then there’s the note,’ she reminded him.
He sent a look over his shoulder and leaned closer to Dottie. ‘Ah the note. Yes, well let’s leave that on one side for the moment. Now I understand Mrs Parfitt’s husband left the maid money in his will?’
‘Yes. Though I don’t know any details. Only that Margaret was so looking forward to getting away from here and giving up domestic work.’
The sergeant made a note. Then he asked Dottie the question she’d been expecting all along. ‘Do you know where the boy’s father is?’
A face came into her mind, but she said simply, ‘I don’t have any actual knowledge about that.’
‘Just a few ideas, hmm? Well, well, it wouldn’t be the first time a man moved his mistress into the marital home.’ He secured the notebook with a rubber band then put it into his jacket pocket. He got up. ‘Right then, Miss, I’ll be in touch.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And obviously if you hear anything at all, you’ll let me know.’
‘Oh, of course.’ Dottie was wringing her hands. She walked him to the back door. Desperate for hope she said, ‘Do you really think she might? Turn up, I mean?’
He shook his head. ‘No, me duck, I’m sorry, I don’t think she will. The note seems to point that way.’
She nodded and turned away. So much for hope for the best, she thought.
It was a long and anxious afternoon. Dottie and the daily woman between them managed to keep Simon occupied, and got on with the cleaning, and saw to everyone’s meals. Over a cup of tea, Dottie said to the woman, whose name was Winnie Bains, ‘If Mrs Parfitt agrees, could you possibly come and live in for a while, just until things are a bit less... you know?’
Mrs Bains said she would be delighted. She was a widow with three adult sons all married and living in their own homes so had no one depending on her. Dottie was hugely relieved. Now all she had to do was catch Penny in a good mood and put it to her. Which may well prove to be the tricky bit.
Once Simon was in bed that night, and the dinner things had been washed and put away, Dottie went to sit in the drawing room with Penny and Miranda. The first thing she noticed was that Penny seemed almost surprised that Dottie should emerge from the kitchen and take a seat in the same room as them. She no longer thought of Dottie as a house guest, apparently. There was a restraint between them. Dottie felt certain that, in Penny’s mind, Dottie was now the new domestic servant—and no longer a guest or social equal.
‘What a mess,’ Dottie said, then all too late realised she had spoken out loud.
‘Well, when she comes back, she shall have her dismissal,’ Penny said, looking up from a magazine. ‘I’m simply furious with Margaret.’
‘Quite right too,’ chipped in Miranda, ‘She’s got no right to do it. She’s put you in a perfectly awful position as regards the child, the housework, everything.’
Dottie thought that was a bit much, seeing that neither of them had lifted a finger to help for the last two days. She murmured a vague response.
It seemed as good a time as any, so very quickly, and approaching the topic with the suggestion of how much easier and more convenient it would make Penny’s life, Dottie explained about Mrs Bains, but it quickly became clear that Penny was reluctant to spend the extra money. She even seemed rather surprised Mrs Bains wouldn’t do longer hours just for the love of it. Dottie decided to let the matter drop. There was nothing to be gained from pushing Penny, she could be stubborn when she liked.
Just then there was a knock at the front door. Penny looked at Dottie, who bit back irritation and the urge to stamp and scream. ‘Shall I go and see who that is?’ she suggested mildly.
‘Please, dear.’ Penny sighed wearily and passed a hand over her eyes.
Chapter Nineteen
IT WAS GERVASE. HE took in her weary harried look. Leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, he said, ‘Want to get out for a bit?’
‘Oh yes please!’
‘Right then.’ He turned as if to head back to his car, but Dottie pulled him inside.
‘Oh no you don’t. You can explain to Penny and Miranda while I go and change my dress and put on some lipstick.’
‘What? Must I?’ But he laughed. ‘Very well, go and get ready and I shall generously go and get your leave authorised.’
Running upstairs and flinging wide the wardrobe doors, frantically trying to think what she should wear for an impromptu undisclosed outing, she was half-laughing at the ridiculous situation she’d got herself into, and half furious.
When she came down five minutes later, Penny was petulant and annoyed, and Miranda was just plain jealous. All the more reason to get out of the house, Dottie thought. Gervase was saying to Penny, ‘Now look, you’ve got to stay in because of the child. You can’t leave him in the house all on his own. And if you’d got any sense at all, you’d get that daily woman of yours to do more hours to help out. I’m sure she’d like the extra money, and it’s not as though you can’t afford it.’
His patience, never much in evidence at the best of times, sounded as though it was wearing very thin. Doubtless he’d already said this speech several times in one form or another.
‘He’s not my responsibility. I don’t see why I should have to stay at home. You always take Dottie out, and you leave me behind. It’s not fair!’ If she had stamped her foot or thrown herself on the floor in a tantrum, Dottie would not have been at all surprised.
‘We’re going out, and that’s that!’ Gervase said. ‘And kindly remember, you invited Dottie here as your guest. She’s not your skivvy.’
Penny muttered something low and unintelligible to Dottie, though Gervase must have caught her words as he looked furious. He stormed out to his car, and Dottie, caught in the doorway as Penny came after him, simply turned and ran after him, annoyed at the guilt she felt.
