My da, by the fire, had roared with laughter. ‘You’re not bright enough for that, Carol.’
Alice leant forward and touched the letters, one at a time, and words appeared in the space above them. ‘Hi, I’m Alice.’
I was stunned, speechless, I couldn’t think of a thing to say. I took a deep breath.
‘Hello Alice, how are you doing?’ She shook her head.
‘Not like that, like this, stupid.’ She grabbed my finger and at first I resisted, but she kept on tugging, and as I watched she guided my finger across the screen. I spelt out my name.
‘Tom, to Alice.’
‘Cool,’ she replied.
‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s mild today.’ Alice laughed, a genuine laugh, it was light and high and strong, from the heart. I realised then, that was what had been missing, she’d looked very sad. But she wasn’t sad now.
‘No, cool means, okay, good, I approve, not cool as in cold.’
‘Fine. If you say so,’ I said, thinking, Really? How stupid, but, of course, I was pleased she was talking to me. Sort of talking, anyway. She was writing again.
‘Here, you take it, you have a go.’ She passed me the thing and I stood there frozen, afraid I might drop it. ‘Go on, try it, it’s called a tablet.’ Now, I was confused.
‘A tablet is something you take when you’re ill.’
‘It’s also a computer, a flat computer. This one’s an iPad.’
‘What’s an iPad, or a computer?’ I felt bewildered. Alice wasn’t posh, she was out of my league. I realised I was still holding the tablet. I put my thumb to the top of the screen and dozens of pictures appeared before me, all in colour. That was crazy, totally amazing. They were faces, different people, and one of the people looked like Alice. With a small dark woman.
‘Is that your ma?’
‘Yes, that’s my mum. Her name’s Cressida.’
‘You don’t look anything like each other. Do you take after your father, then?’
‘Yeah, a bit, but my father’s dead.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Mine is too.’
She smiled again, a bond had been forged. She leant across me and carried on typing.
‘Can I take your picture?’
‘Draw it, you mean?’
‘No, silly. Take a photo, with my iPad.’ She rattled the tablet.
‘What, now?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
I looked around. I couldn’t see anyone else about. It was getting late, the kids had gone home and so should I, and the streets were getting much darker now. I wasn’t talking about the light. When darkness fell in Curdizan High, the shady types came out of the shadows. I stared at Alice.
The iPad must be a camera, I thought. I’d never met anyone else with a camera. I’d heard about photos and someone I’d known had a portrait done, but that had been for a special occasion. I shrugged, curious.
She took the tablet out of my hand, and quickly held it in front of her face. I saw a flash.
‘Not bad,’ she typed. ‘But wait a minute, where are you?’ She pushed it across and pointed, carefully. I peered at the screen.
The view was there, just as I saw it, the gate, the back of my school by the churchyard, and in colour, that alone was enough to amaze me. But I was missing, not in the picture. I had been there, waiting and wondering what she would do, I’d seen the flash, and then I’d wanted to see the result, but I wasn’t in it.
‘No,’ I said, ‘that can’t be right.’ The picture first, there straight away, and in colour, and me not in it, it was all too much. I looked at Alice and backed away. This girl was different and I was afraid.
I turned around and ran like hell, down the road, past the churchyard and off to the right, through the alley, squeezing past some huddled bodies. I ran even faster down Convent Court, past the church hall, and I only slowed my pace at Croston. I kept on walking, heart beating fast until I reached Haversham Road and home. It really felt like home for once.
I knew I wouldn’t have long in the house, I was due at the Keepsake Arms about now. I grabbed some broth and a hunk of bread and hurried outside to find the privy. Lucky for me it was empty for once. I sat on the seat, still shaking, craving some peace away from it all. I also felt guilty.
My da wasn’t dead, like I’d said to Alice, he was probably down at The Tavern on Wenn Street, having a pint and holding forth. The drunken waste of space that he was.
‘That’s my lad,’ he’d said to me once, when he’d heard about my job at the pub.
I’d said nothing, and neither had Ma, we’d both learnt to keep our mouths shut when Da had been drinking. Da, when drunk, was a different bloke and Ma was the one who took the flack, mostly because I was young and could run. Lately, I’d bought a cricket bat, I’d had to bribe a lad for the thing, but I reckoned I needed it more than him.
I kept the bat by my bed each night, so the next time Da went to hit my ma, I’d be all fired up and ready to go, I’d give him a taste of his own medicine. Thinking about it made me sick, I didn’t want to hit my da, not one bit, or anybody else, but sometimes you have to stand up for yourself. Or, if not for yourself, at least for your ma.
Then I remembered the girl, Alice. I hadn’t been much of a man back then, running away because I was scared. Scared of the tablet and scared of her, scared of the look in those ice blue eyes.
I sighed heavily and left the privy, clutching the empty bowl and plate. I knew I’d have to go back and find her, not tonight, or even tomorrow, but sometime soon, before I forgot. I couldn’t be weak, a cowardly type. I couldn’t wait.
Chapter 12
Now – Cressida
Cressida was sitting in Aleph’s kitchen, feeling pleased and proud of herself. She’d won him round, he’d agreed to hear Alice, she felt like clapping or dancing around. Instead, she sat at the kitchen table, winding her way around the problems. Like getting Alice to talk to someone, about that day. Meeting Aleph wasn’t just about Alice, but her daughter worried her more each day. She couldn’t stand the silence much longer.
The post arrived with a hefty thump and she rose from her chair to go and look. The hall was one of the loveliest parts of the whole building, Edwardian tiles graced the floor and light flooded in through a stained glass panel. As well as a parcel, a couple of envelopes lay on the mat. One of the envelopes was edged in black. Cressida blinked.
She wandered back to the kitchen, slowly, clutching the post and poured more coffee. She also made some tea for Aleph. Where had he got to? Cressida waited.
‘I’ve been thinking about some dates for Alice.’ Cressida jumped. Aleph smiled.
‘She can come next week, if that works for you. And then if you’ve got the recording ready…’ He stopped, mid-flow.
Aleph scanned the post by his plate and picked the black-edged envelope up, slowly turning it round and round. ‘It seems that leaving wasn’t enough,’ he muttered softly. Then he tossed it into the bin.
‘Don’t you want to read it first?’ Cressida wished she hadn’t spoken.
‘It is my post.’ said Aleph grimly.
‘Yes, of course.’
He grabbed a seat and poured some tea, taking great gulps and looking distracted. He looked across the table at Cressida. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened that day? With Alice I mean. You never told me the full story. Why she suddenly stopped speaking to you.’ Cressida sighed and nodded slowly.
‘I’m not really sure, that’s the trouble. Alice was meant to be going to her friend’s. She had her phone and she knew where to go and I believe it’s important to trust her. Then Annerley’s mother gave me a call and told me Alice had never turned up. She should have been there and I was frantic.
‘I rang all her friends, but everyone told me they hadn’t seen her. So then I went out and wandered the streets, knocking on all the neighbours’ doors, and speaking to all the people who knew her, but everyone said the same as her friends, they hadn’t seen her. No-one knew anything. Then so
mething happened, apart from Alice, and I had to stop looking, just for a while, but not before I’d enlisted help. I rang the police and they were worried, I knew they were, even though they wouldn’t admit it.’
‘But Alice came back later on?’
‘Yes, that’s right, in the late afternoon. She looked alright, all her clothes were creased, but nothing excessive, she said she’d been sitting in the park all day, and I believed her. The soles of her shoes were matted with grass.’
‘Why didn’t Alice go to Annerley’s?’
‘She said to me they’d fallen out, although Annerley denied it, insisted they hadn’t. But that means nothing, kids will lie in a flash if it suits them. I think Alice was the one who was lying, I think she wanted some time on her own. She’s very independent.’
‘But to spend all day alone in the park?’ Cressida shrugged.
‘The following morning, I took her to the doctor’s, just to be careful, but the doctor I spoke to said she seemed fine. A few days later the trouble started.’
‘Was she still speaking when she came home?’
‘Yes, that’s why I believed it was nothing. But the very next day she acted withdrawn, and not long after, it was all downhill.’
‘What about when she went back to school?’ Cressida sighed.
‘I didn’t worry too much at first, I thought it would pass, like these things do. By the time I realised something was wrong, a week had gone by, and the staff couldn’t remember anything, like how she’d been at the start of the week. And so the specialist visits began, but none of them made one jot of difference. The fact that she’s normal at school doesn’t help.’ Aleph nodded.
‘Alright Cressida, we’ll give it a go. I’ll meet Alice first, and after I’ve met her, I’ll hear the recording of Alice talking, hopefully about the issue. But it could be a very short session indeed, when I meet her, if Alice won’t talk.’
‘She will,’ said Cressida, ‘although probably just about everyday things.’
‘But if she won’t talk to you, her mother, I very much doubt she’ll talk to a stranger.’
‘Yes,’ said Cressida, ‘that was a problem, until I twigged and bought her an iPad.’
Chapter 13
Then – Miranda
Her mother’s face was a wet weekend, all the time now. Miranda sighed. She normally craved her mother’s attention, but somehow, lately, she just couldn’t face it. Thanks to Tanya Curtis’s comments. All her little insinuations.
Miranda knew she should have been happy. Today she hadn’t been working at Chaucer’s. Because they were always short of money, Miranda worked days at the sweet factory. Most of the girls who worked there loved it. Unlike her.
Miranda wanted a job in an office, Chaucer’s preferably, and her ma was saving some cash for training, but she wasn’t sure she wanted that money, now she thought she knew where it came from. She felt a sudden wave of shame.
She couldn’t be sure her ma had been adding to her income that way, just because she went out nights. Why should she believe Tanya Curtis? Her mother worked all day in the laundry, along with Carol, Thomas’s ma, and then at night, she was here to close up, throwing blokes out and cleaning the bar. Sometimes her ma worked the lunches, too, when Reg and Cath were off, or were sick. She deserved some time to herself in the evenings. She was probably sitting in somebody’s house, having a chat, or taking a wander down by the Blue.
Even in very bad weather? thought Miranda. It didn’t seem likely. So maybe the cow was right after all.
But now, tonight, her mother was here and making Miranda wonder again. She smiled at her ma. ‘You look tired.’
‘I am,’ said Hannah. ‘It gets to me sometimes, running a pub. More than the laundry, even though the work there’s tougher. In this place, you’re never off duty. You know how it is.’ Miranda nodded. This was her chance.
‘You know my job at the factory, Ma? Perhaps I’d be better off sticking with that? I can’t see us finding money for training, anytime soon, just so I can work in an office. What do you think?’
Hannah sat down on a crate, weary. ‘I don’t want you to end up like me, stuck in a dead end job like the laundry. I’ve always said there’d be money for training, and I meant it. An office job is a good career. Better than spending days in a factory.’
And nights behind the bar, thought Miranda. She smiled at her ma.
‘So can I go to the classes then?’ Maybe Ma would be staying at home, to oversee Steve and Tom in the bar. Her heart fluttered, hope rising. But then she saw her mother’s face.
‘That’s a little bit difficult now. Yes, you can go, but not at the moment. I’ve had some very sad news, you see.’ Her face crumpled.
As sad as me being deprived of a future?
‘The man who runs the shoe shops is dead. Matt McCarthy, the one who lives in Terrace Hall Mews.’
‘That old bloke?’
‘He’s only a little bit older than me. Was, I mean.’
‘Ma, the man was nearly sixty.’
‘Fifty-four, that’s quite a bit younger. Carol and I did all his washing, we knew him quite well, like a friend, almost.’ She blew her nose and turned away. ‘That’s why I often went out nights, he liked his clothes back straight away, he hated them being in the laundry too long. Bit of a snob, was Matt, really. We used to do his lads’ uniforms, for both of the shops. He liked to see them all dressed up, reckoned the look was part of the sale.’ She smiled weakly, a wave of tenderness crossing her face. Miranda’s heart sank.
So, not as bad as the tart had implied, only the one, but one was enough, around these parts. The fact that the bloke was a toff didn’t help. And Ma having a pub to run. Her reputation was everything. Miranda studied her mother afresh.
‘So now he’s dead, will we be worse off?’
Her mother flinched and lifted her chin. It suited her more than tears and mopes.
‘You’ll get to go to the classes, Miranda, you see if you don’t. I’ll just have to find another way, apart from the washing. Matt used to give us tips now and then.’
Sure he did, Miranda thought. ‘Don’t worry, Ma, the classes can wait. But you ought to ban that tart from the pub.’
‘Which tart’s that?’ said Hannah, distracted, and not really paying attention to her daughter. Miranda followed her mother’s eyes, she was gazing across at the mantelpiece, no, more at the shelf above the mantel. She gasped with surprise. The boot that sat on the shelf was gone.
Putting a shoe in a newly built pub was meant to ward off evil spirits. Her ma had said she’d discovered the boot when the men were fixing the pipes, out back. She’d put the boot on display in the parlour and said it would bring them luck and more. It hadn’t been long after Da had died. They’d needed that luck, they really had.
And now the boot had disappeared.
Miranda felt a wave of despair. She wasn’t normally superstitious, but a thought had wandered into her head, and she didn’t much like it. She remembered thinking when she first saw it, that although it was old, the boot wasn’t that old, it couldn’t have been as old as the pub. But maybe the boot hadn’t come from the pub.
Perhaps it had come from McCarthy’s shop.
Chapter 14
Now – Aleph
I could see the black-edged envelope bothered her, her eyes had followed it right to the bin, and if Cressida could have taken it out, opened it and read it, I’m sure she’d have done so. She didn’t know I’d take it out later. I liked this woman, I really did, I wanted to make things right for her, and also for her daughter, and I knew she needed an explanation. It didn’t have to be the truth.
‘That envelope came from my ex-girlfriend, Gerry.’
‘It’s none of my business,’ said Cressida, quickly, but looking more than slightly intrigued.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I want to tell you, really I do.’ Lies, all of it. I took a deep breath.
‘Gerry, my ex, she won’t forgive me for certain mistakes. So ev
ery year, since we broke up, she sends me a card.’ I paused, waiting.
‘Weird,’ said Cressida. She gave it some thought. ‘But how do you know the cards are from her if you haven’t even opened the envelopes?’
‘This is the fourth, the first one I opened. And what was inside wasn’t that pleasant, it was awful actually, so now I don’t bother. As you can see, they’re quite distinctive.’
‘How strange,’ said Cressida, knocking back her coffee and getting to her feet. I wondered if I’d scared her off.
‘So can I bring Alice to see you next week?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘And thanks for coming for the meal last night. I’m glad we had the chance to talk, even if it wasn’t an accident.’ I grinned, suddenly.
‘Yes,’ said Cressida and returned my smile. But I saw the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
After she’d left, I stood in the hall and looked at my hands, they were almost steady. Perhaps I’m getting better, I thought. I doubted it somehow.
I wandered back towards the kitchen and stopped at the door and looked inside. There wasn’t much I could do with the units, or the tired old lino covering the floor. The fridge-freezer which sat in the middle was a different matter, I could push it back up against the wall, which was probably where it had been in the first place. The gap by the door was made for the thing. I’d do it now.
The job proved harder than I thought, the freezer was huge and solid as a rock, so when I’d finally got it in place and plugged it back in, I thought I’d done the worst of the work. I’d forgotten about the clearing up. Decades of dirt would take some shifting. I paused, puzzled.
Where the freezer had been was clean. Yes, there was dust, the odd bit of food, and also what looked like a smear of grease, but weeks or maybe a month of dirt, not years or decades. Someone had moved the freezer recently.
Shadows of the Lost Child Page 4
