The Vanished Child
Page 22
‘If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to get in touch. We will find him, it just takes time.’
‘Thanks for all your work, Duncan, you’re a star.’
‘Thank you, Duncan,’ chorused Vera and Robert.
‘Keep your chin up, Vera, we’ll find him.’
Jayne switched off the video call.
‘Is that it, Jayne?’ asked Vera.
‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. There must be a way of finding out what happened to Harry, but I don’t know what it is yet.’
‘We’ve come so far, Jayne – not to find him now would be terrible,’ added Robert.
‘I know, Dad, but as Duncan said, we’ve run out of leads.’
‘There must be a way, Jayne. Please let there be a way. Harry suffered so much, we must find out what happened to him.’
Chapter Fifty-Three
August 6, 2017
Didsbury, Manchester, England
All through the journey back to Manchester, Jayne had turned over the video call with Duncan in her mind, looking for answers.
From the bare files in PHIND, they had managed to put together a skeleton of Harry’s life. He had been at Bindoon Boys Town for seven years. He had tried to run away once but had been recaptured and punished. He was considered educationally sub-normal by the brothers, but that didn’t tally with everything else they knew. Other people had described him as a bright, cheerful boy. He cared for the animals at Bindoon and seemed to be good at it. Finally, he had gone out to work on a farm when he was fifteen years old.
That was it. The sum total of seven years of his life. There must be more hidden away somewhere. What did he learn? How did he live? What were his thoughts and feeling? What were his ambitions? The brothers must have kept more notes about him, mustn’t they?
But Duncan had re-checked with Tuart Place. These were the only records kept by the brothers in Harry’s file.
Even worse, they knew nothing about him once he had left Bindoon. It was like he had vanished off the face of the earth. Duncan had been unable to find anything either.
No records.
No telephone listing.
No contact with any of the Child Migrant organisations.
What had happened to him?
As soon as Jayne arrived home, she rushed to switch on her computer. She had to go through the documents with a fine-tooth comb. Perhaps there would be something else, anything, to give them a clue to his whereabouts.
Mr Smith was entwining himself around her legs, miaowing loudly with his tail held upright. She managed to ignore him for twenty minutes before finally giving in.
‘Okay, okay, what would we like to eat?’
The cat followed her to the fridge.
‘Duck with orange sauce or lamb with rosemary?’ She showed him both packs of food, feeling like a crazy cat lady.
He, of course, eyed both suspiciously before licking the outside of the lamb pack.
‘Lamb, it is. Sir has made a wonderful choice.’ She opened the pack, spooning it into his bowl. He rushed over before she had finished and began to wolf it down. ‘I only fed you this morning, you greedy beggar.’
The cat ignored her.
She returned to the computer. This case was full of complications. Why had Harry vanished? How had he vanished? Was he dead? Or did something happen to make him go underground?
The more she read about the Christian Brothers and their treatment of the poor children who had the misfortune to be in their care, the more she worried about Harry. Where had he gone? Did he get into trouble? How were they ever going to find him?
Outside, it was another glorious summer’s evening in Manchester; the peaceful end of a lazy day. Bees were buzzing around flower pots. People were watering their gardens. Off in the distance, somebody was mowing their lawn.
The classic sounds of summer in suburbia.
After three hours of poring over the documents in Harry’s file, Jayne switched off her computer and went to sit on the patio steps beside Mr Smith, to enjoy the remains of the evening sun.
Perhaps they would never find him.
Perhaps he just didn’t want to be found.
Thinking of Harry’s story made her immensely sad. She thought back over her life. What would have happened if her mum had given up when her biological father walked out? Could she have ended up in one of those homes run by the nuns too? What would have happened then?
And what if Robert hadn’t met her mum? She worried about her dad and his illness. She hoped the doctors would find out what was wrong soon. Without him, her life would be emptier than it already was.
Mr Smith gave a plaintive miaow and raced for the back fence, climbing it with all the skill of a tightrope walker. He was off to number nine again.
‘Enough, Jayne, you’re not going to solve this by turning it over and over again in your head. Get out of the house, go for a walk, but don’t beat yourself up. The answer will come.’
She put on her walking shoes and left for Fletcher Moss Gardens. A walk around the flower beds might clear her mind. And if a pint of cider called her name from the Old Cock, well, let it sing its apple heart out.
Tonight, she was going to forget about the case for a few hours and relax.
About bloody time too.
Chapter Fifty-Four
August 6, 2017
Didsbury, Manchester, England
The answer came to her at the most unlikely time.
She had gone for her walk and stepped into the Old Cock for a glass of cider, meeting the Ridleys from number 16 in the pub. She’d had a lovely chat with them about holidays and Manchester United and cats, totally forgetting about Harry and the case.
When the pub shut, she walked home. Of course, Mr Smith was still out on the prowl. She left him some water and some food in case he returned and managed to find his way in through the cat flap. Then she had gone straight to bed, the computer lying dormant on the kitchen table.
At three o’clock in the morning, she sat upright in her bed.
‘That’s it,’ she said out loud. ‘If I were in trouble, that’s what I would do.’
Still in her t-shirt and knickers, she rushed down to the kitchen to switch on her computer.
Outside the patio window, Manchester was dark and sleepy. Mr Smith was still out on the prowl, canoodling with the minx at number 9, his food and water untouched in his bowls.
The computer took a while to warm up. ‘Come on, come on,’ she said impatiently.
The home page finally formed itself and she searched through Harry’s file, looking for the image that had come to her in her dream.
Finally, she found it.
She spent a long time staring at the picture on her screen.
‘Could that be it?’ she said out loud.
She pulled up another document to check the names.
They matched.
It was a long shot, but she had to look into it. That’s who she would turn to if she were in trouble.
It might come to nothing, but Jayne trusted her intuition – it very rarely let her down.
The clock on the wall said 3.30 a.m.
Time to ring Duncan in Perth.
Chapter Fifty-Five
August 13, 2017
Buxton Residential Home, Derbyshire, England
‘You’ll have to speak up, my hearing’s not as good as it used to be.’
Jayne, Vera and Robert stared at the FaceTime image on the computer. The face of the woman sitting next to Duncan showed the lines of her age, but the voice was still as strong as ever. A commanding voice, used to being obeyed.
‘What’s that? Did they say anything in England? I’m eighty-nine years old now and I’m as fit as a fiddle but the ears have gone. Don’t know where they went to, but they’re no bloody use to me any more.’
Duncan had found her in one of the most expensive retirement villages in Perth. She had her own home there and was still cooking and caring for herself.
�
�Hang on, I’ll turn the sound up,’ said Duncan.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Anstey, great to finally meet you.’
‘You don’t have to shout. I’m deaf, not stupid. Are you Harry’s sister?’ She pointed at the screen. ‘You have the same look as him, you know. The same cheeky eyes.’
‘Thank you,’ muttered Vera.
‘So you remember Harry?’
‘Of course I remember him. A lovely boy, with a naughty smile and a bit of cheek about him. You don’t forget boys like Harry.’
‘You first met him on the boat?’
‘No, I first met him in the orphanage in Oldham.’
‘St Michael’s?’
‘I think that was its name, run by the nuns. I’d been living in Manchester doing training for two years at the Royal Infirmary. Surgical training. The government paid for it and I thought it was a good chance to travel abroad, see the world.’
‘So you met him in the orphanage?’ asked Jayne.
‘That’s what I already said. I do wish people would listen. I’ve always been a Catholic and when the diocese realised I was going back to Australia, well, they asked me whether I would look after some orphans who were going to migrate. Well, you couldn’t say no when the bishop asked, so I did it. Escorted them on the SS Otranto, leaving London for Fremantle in 1952.’
‘Harry was one of the migrants?’
‘He was. I had to look after eight of them. None of them gave me any trouble, lovely kids they were.’
She stopped speaking for a moment. Jayne could see the woman’s eyes glaze over as she was transported back to the voyage over sixty years ago.
‘I met Alfred on that voyage too, but he was engaged. I never married, you know. Married to the job, I suppose, and somehow, nobody ever matched up to Alfred.’
Once again, she stopped speaking for a moment, staring into some place above Duncan’s computer screen.
‘Anyway, that’s over and done with.’ She continued speaking, the wistfulness gone from her voice. ‘The voyage lasted six weeks and I looked after the children. Most of the time, though, they looked after themselves. Harry kept a diary throughout the voyage. Most of the other children made one or two entries and then forgot about it, but not Harry. He kept going right till the time we entered Fremantle harbour, even though it was difficult for him.’
‘What do you mean, difficult for him?’
‘I think he was dyslexic or something.’
Jayne glanced across at Vera.
‘Of course, nobody knew about it then. We just thought some children were slower than others. But I knew Harry was smart, he just couldn’t understand reading and writing, kept getting his “b”s and “d”s the wrong way round, and he read very slowly, as if he had to remind himself of the word every time he read it. But he was quicker than all the others put together with numbers. Loved his arithmetic, did Harry.’
‘We saw a picture of both of you on Fremantle dock.’
‘I remember it well. It was taken when we arrived and were met by the Archbishop.’
‘You two seemed so close.’
‘I suppose we were. He was a lovely boy. I remember he had a toy soldier which I had to kiss every night before he would go to sleep. He loved his toy soldier. Said his mother had given it to him.’ She paused for a moment, a frown adding to the wrinkles in her forehead. ‘I did wonder about those children. They were all supposed to be orphans, you see, but as far as I could make out, only one of them was. The rest had at least one parent back in England. But I suppose the church knew what was best for them.’
‘Harry was taken to one of the Catholic homes?’
‘He was sent to Bindoon Boys Town, I believe. He was a bit young for it, but they seemed to want him, so he went.’
‘Did you ever visit him?’
‘No, it was sixty miles away and I didn’t have a car then, but I saw him after he left.’
‘What? When was that?’ Jayne asked.
‘I saw him after he left Bindoon. It was about fifteen years later, in the hospital. I was Matron by then. One day, who should turn up on one of my wards but Harry. He was in a bad way, had been knocked about by a couple of thugs and he was living rough – drinking, you know.’
‘When was this?’
‘It must have been about 1968 or 1969.’
‘Are you sure it was Harry?’
‘Do I look stupid to you? Of course I’m sure. We had a long chat about life and what had happened. I don’t think he had a good time at the school. And after he left he got in with a bad crowd, ending up in jail. By the time I saw him he was at the end of his rope, ready to chuck it all in.’
‘What happened?’
‘Well, I had to help him. In those days, the Matron of a hospital carried some clout, not like today. Harry said he wanted to go to sea, to become an engineer. So I rang up the local seaman’s union. We often used to get injured men from the boats and off the docks at the hospital. Anyway, I twisted a few arms and got Harry a berth on a freighter heading for Yokohama.’
‘What happened?’
‘He loved life on the sea and took to it like a duck to water, even doing his leaving certificate while he was on-board. Clever lad, was Harry.’
‘It sounds like you kept in touch.’
‘Oh, we did.’ She gestured with her hands at the four walls surrounding her. ‘Who do you think pays for all this? Donald Duck?’
Chapter Fifty-Six
August 13, 2017
Buxton Residential Home, Derbyshire, England
Jayne edged closer to the computer. ‘What? What did you say?’
‘I said, who do you think pays for all of this? The Queen of Sheba? Well, actually, I said Donald Duck…’
‘You mean Harry pays for your house in the retirement village?’
‘This one’s quick, isn’t she, Duncan? No wonder you like working with her.’
Jayne’s chin dropped to the floor. ‘But… that means… You…’ She stumbled over the question.
‘It means Harry bought this house for me years ago, not long after I retired. And your next question will probably be, “So that means you see him?” And I will answer, yes, at least once a year and always on my birthday. He’s done well for himself, has my Harry, but I always knew he would.’ The old woman was obviously enjoying the whole story.
Jayne had recovered her composure now. ‘But we checked for Harold Brittons in Western Australia and there were none.’
‘That’s because he changed his name when he left Bindoon. He told me he wanted to put the past behind him. Very mature for a fifteen-year-old. You see, for him, Harry Britton was dead. It was almost as if he had never existed, except in Bindoon.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, what name did he choose?’
‘Well, that’s the strangest thing. Even though he wanted to forget the past, he chose a name that reminded him of it.’
‘What was it?’ Vera asked urgently.
‘He started calling himself Harry Duckworth.’
You could cut the silence in the Matron’s room with a knife. Jayne’s chin dropped to the floor again, and Vera and Robert were holding on to each other, neither able to speak.
‘Hello, is anybody there?’ The old woman prodded the screen with a bent, wrinkled finger.
Jayne coughed. ‘I’m sorry, could you say that again?’
‘You going deaf too, dear? It affects us all one day. What I said was he changed his name to Harold Duckworth.’ She enunciated each word slowly and clearly.
‘That’s what I thought you said.’
‘You mean Duckworth’s Tyres and Auto?’ Duncan spoke for the first time.
‘That’s the one. Founded it when he left the sea in 1978. As he said, he stole the idea for a drive-thru tyre shop from California. Saw it on his travels, came back and made it happen.’
‘What is it, Duncan?’
‘Only the largest tyre and auto repair company in Western Australia. I took the bloomin’ car there yesterday.
’
‘And one more thing.’
‘What’s that, Miss Anstey?’
‘Well, I talked to Harry yesterday…’
‘You what?’ exploded Duncan.
‘You may be charming, Mr Morgan, but do you honestly think I would be talking to you unless Harry had said I could?’
Again, the old lady had reduced them all to total silence.
‘He gave me this number for you.’ She passed a piece of paper to Duncan. ‘It’s his private line. He wants you to ring him.’
Chapter Fifty-Seven
August 14, 2017
Buxton Residential Home, Derbyshire, England
It was nine o’clock in the morning. Jayne, Vera and Robert were hunched over the telephone in the Matron’s office.
‘I’m so nervous. Look at my palms.’ Vera held up her damp hands. ‘I don’t think I can do it.’
Robert put his arm around her. ‘You’ve been waiting for this day for ages, love. You’re finally going to speak to your brother. The brother that vanished all those years ago.’
Jayne picked up the phone. ‘Shall I go ahead and dial, Vera?’
Vera nodded tentatively, her teeth biting her bottom lip.
Jayne checked the number and pressed the buttons. ‘It’s ringing.’ She pressed the speakerphone and the sound of the dial tone filled the room.
‘What if he doesn’t answer? What if he doesn’t want to speak with me?’ said Vera.
Before Jayne could respond, a male voice came through the speaker. ‘Harry Duckworth.’
The voice wasn’t English or Australian, but a cross between the two.
Vera took a deep breath. ‘Hello, Harry, it’s your sister, Vera.’
A long silence on the other end of the phone. Jayne could hear breathing; a deep, slightly breathless sound.
Eventually an answer came. ‘Hello, Vera, I always knew the family would get in touch with me one day…’