Shadows of the Lost Child

by Ellie Stevenson

  ‘Why do you think we use the church?’

  ‘Because the crypt’s dark and rarely visited?’

  ‘No, silly girl. We use it because the vicar lets us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I can’t just decide to stop when I want to, it’s not just me and Wetherby involved. There’s the vicar to think of, not to mention his family, do you know how little a vicar earns? And he’s got a wife and daughters to feed.’

  ‘Does Mary-Ann know the vicar’s involved?’ She was, after all, engaged to Eisen.

  ‘No,’ said Ben, ‘and you’re not going to tell her, do you hear me, Miranda? Mary-Ann Parks worships her father. Think what the news might do to her. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘But thieving’s not right,’ Miranda said. ‘Nothing that’s good ever came from stealing.’

  ‘And what business is it of yours, exactly?’

  ‘I’m your friend,’ Miranda said, ‘and Mary-Ann’s too, and that’s what friends are meant to do, help and advise each other in life. Even if that means saying tough things.’

  ‘You’re a darling girl, and pretty as hell, but nobody tells me what to do. Even you, Miranda, sweetheart. My life’s my business and nobody else’s. Is that clear?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Miranda, ‘it certainly is. I’m sorry I seem to have wasted your time.’ She turned away and made for the door, trying in vain to pull it open. The handle was loose and came off in her hand. The door was still closed.

  ‘Here, let me,’ said Ben, amused.

  ‘No! I’ll do it,’ Miranda snapped and grabbed the edge of the metal lock. She tugged on it hard and the door swung open, revealing a damp and chilly evening.

  ‘Goodbye Ben,’ she said to him, softly, turning right and hurrying away.

  ‘Miranda, wait!’ yelled Ben, getting up, but Miranda had no intention of waiting. By the time she had reached the junction with Croston, her heart was burning and her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. She blinked them away, annoyed with herself. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head. You got involved with the wrong man, it’s sad but it happens. Now, get over it.

  ‘Ha!’ thought Miranda, turning right, then hurrying quickly, away from her pub and Dogleg Lane. She headed up Croston towards the abbey. Who was her mother to talk, after all? Her ma had been sweet on Matt McCarthy, even assuming nothing had happened.

  She kept on walking, right through the alley to Scriveners Road, and was just about to turn right for the abbey, but instead she paused briefly, and leant against the wall of the church, Curdizan Church, and burst into tears. What a fool I am, she said to herself.

  Her tears subsided to feeble sniffles, which were brought up short when she felt the touch of a hand on her arm.

  Ben! she thought, but was soon disappointed, for the person the hand belonged to was female, and much younger.

  ‘I hardly ever find crying helps. Here, have this.’

  The girl was tall, but still a child and she smiled at Miranda, handing her some paper, it was light and flimsy and soft to the touch. ‘This is a tissue, for blowing your nose.’

  ‘Right,’ said Miranda, feeling puzzled.

  ‘I bet you’re Miranda, Thomas’s friend. The one who works at the Keepsake Arms. Am I right?’ Miranda nodded.

  ‘Tom said he would show me the tunnel. The one that runs from beneath Ben’s place to the Old Schoolhouse and Curdizan Church.’ She nodded behind her. ‘Tom’s isn’t here, but you are, instead. Will you take me down the tunnel?’

  Miranda studied the girl, closely. She had long blonde hair, which wasn’t tied back, and a healthy face and some very strange clothes. Why had she called it the Old Schoolhouse? She obviously didn’t live round here. She watched as the stranger held out her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miranda,’ she said, smiling. ‘My mother would say I’m being very rude. My name’s Alice, pleased to meet you.’

  Chapter 66

  Now – Guinevere

  Guinevere crossed the market square. She was heading down the street, making for the courtyard and Old School Lane and dreading the visit, she knew she wasn’t the most popular of people. But Martha’s call had been a shock.

  ‘Alice is missing and Cressida is frantic. We’re looking for volunteers to find her.’

  ‘Right,’ said Guinevere, ‘I’ll get my coat.’

  ‘I’ll send you a photo from my phone. I think you’d better start searching in Curdizan, instead of in Ebbenheart Green where she lives. Cressida has found out you gave that file of Alice crying to Aleph Jones. She’s not very happy.’

  ‘It was at your request,’ said Guinevere, mildly.

  ‘Yes, I know and I now wish I hadn’t, but at the moment, we’ve got to find Alice. Cressida has contacted the police already, and Len and his mates are searching Leverhulme, but I think she could be in Curdizan. Try that first.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever you think will help. But what makes you think Alice could be here?’ Ginny could have sworn she heard Martha laugh.

  ‘I thought reporters were meant to be bright? If I was looking for Alice Sewell, Curdizan High’s the first place I’d choose. Can’t you think why?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Guinevere, smiling broadly. ‘That’s where Aleph Jones is based.’

  And where Alice heard the School Lane ghosts. Apparently.

  Guinevere hurried down Old School Lane. It was dry, thank God, but freezing cold, so she’d wrapped up warmly and pulled the collar of her coat up high. So much for spring. She hurried up the steps to Aleph’s door and rang the bell, then waited a while but nothing happened. She tried again and saw a flicker at one of the curtains. Then Aleph appeared.

  ‘You ought to get that bell fixed, Aleph.’

  ‘Hello, Ginny, good to see you. Did you want me to solve a murder? Or maybe track down a couple of bodies? In my cellar.’

  ‘Don’t be like that. Can I come in?’ She stared at the hall, just behind Aleph, invitingly warm and frowned with envy. ‘Alice is missing and people are searching all over right now. In Leverhulme and Curdizan. I don’t suppose she’s come round here?’

  ‘No,’ said Aleph, looking troubled. ‘I’m sorry, she hasn’t. Why did she vanish?’

  ‘She had a row with her mother, again.’ Aleph frowned.

  ‘I told Cressida I’d found Tom, and also some things I’d heard from Alice. I bet she told Alice everything I’d said. So now, not surprisingly, Alice doesn’t trust us. What a mess!’

  ‘Who’s Thomas?’ Ginny asked him.

  ‘Never mind that, I’ll tell you later. Wait here a minute.’ He was back in a flash, wearing a coat. His eyes narrowed.

  ‘I shouldn’t really be talking to you. The way you lied about that recording.’

  ‘I know and I’m sorry. But Alice is troubled and I wanted to help. All I’ve done is make things worse.’

  ‘One of us has,’ said Aleph, grimly. He closed the door and followed her slowly down to the road. They walked along it and round the corner.

  ‘Blasted churchyard,’ Guinevere said. ‘I always seem to be hanging round here.’

  ‘But it’s not a churchyard, not anymore.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’ Guinevere laughed. Then she felt guilty, laughing with Aleph while Alice was missing. She grabbed Aleph’s arm. ‘Look, over there! Could that be Alice, talking to someone?’

  ‘Don’t you know her?’ Aleph asked, peering to see and sounding puzzled.

  ‘No, I don’t, all I’ve got is this phone photo. I’m not Cressida’s friend, I’m – hell, Aleph, they’re walking away. Let’s go after them.’

  ‘I can’t tell if it’s Alice or not, it’s far too dark. And the woman she’s with looks more like a girl. But her clothes are all wrong, they’re too old-fashioned.’

  ‘They’re crossing the road, quick, let’s follow them.’

  Ginny and Aleph hurried ahead, trying to catch the others up.

  ‘Why don’t you call her?’ Guinevere said.

&n
bsp; ‘No,’ said Aleph, ‘we’d only scare her. If she sees us, she’ll walk even faster, maybe even run and then we’d never catch her up. We have to be careful.’

  ‘I think they’re going down that alley, on the right.’

  Aleph swore and stopped abruptly, looking anxious. ‘I think you’d better go back to the house.’

  ‘What do you mean go back to the house? That could be Alice, in there with that woman and now you’re suggesting we should go back. Come on, let’s hurry.’ Aleph didn’t move.

  ‘I’m not suggesting we should go back, but I can’t be sure that the girl is Alice. Somebody needs to stay at my house, in case she turns up.’

  ‘Fine, you do it, it is your house. I’m going on.’ They stood together at the entrance to the passage. Aleph looked thoughtful.

  ‘You don’t know Curdizan Low, do you?’

  ‘No, so what?’

  ‘It’s a building site, and a hazard in the dark. The woman with Alice, if she’s Alice, might have an accomplice and if I’m with you, I’m much more likely to be spotted, than alone. You said Alice doesn’t even know you and if she sees us, she might not trust you. I’m better off on my own, on this. I can hide if I have to, and on my own I can deal with surprises. With you beside me, I’d only worry. Please, Ginny, do as I ask.’

  Ginny was almost seething with rage. She hated the thought of being left behind, but she knew she had to think of Alice.

  ‘Very well, Aleph, I’ll do as you ask, but only because I know it makes sense. But you really must hurry, you’ll have lost them soon, if you don’t go now.’ Aleph threw her his door key.

  ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll catch them up. I’ll find them again, if it’s the last thing I do.’

  Chapter 67

  Then – Miranda

  Miranda studied the girl Alice. There was something about her that seemed familiar.

  I know what it is. She reminds me of those people I saw, the day I helped out at the soup kitchen. Not in her looks, but more in the way she carries herself, and the clothes she’s wearing.

  ‘Where are you from?’ she said to the girl. Alice was leading her back down the alley.

  ‘Ebbenheart Green, although we used to live in Leverhulme. I don’t suppose you know where that is.’

  Cheeky madam, Miranda thought, and scowled at the girl, but of course she was right. She had heard of Ebbenheart Green, though, that was lovely. It was where they held their summer picnic, a legacy from her father’s day. Cath and Reg and sometimes her ma took a handful of kids from the worst tenements out for the day. Her eyes filled up with thoughts of her da. She shook them off.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be at home young lady? It is rather late.’

  ‘I often stay out late in the evening, Mum doesn’t mind. I thought I’d explore the tunnel tonight. Do say we can.’

  Just like a little princess, thought Miranda. She wondered what she should do with the girl. They strolled past the turnoff to Dogleg Lane and she thought about taking her into the pub, finding her ma and looking for Thomas. But her ma would be out and Tom would be busy, and Miranda needed some space from all that. I could call round at Ben’s and see if he’s in. And then she cursed her stupid thoughts.

  You’re a fool, Miranda Collenge, she thought. Soft on a bloke who doesn’t give a damn. Haven’t you got the message yet?

  It seemed she hadn’t for she crossed the road and turned down Blackberry Close with the girl.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Alice asked her. ‘This is such an amazing place! I love coming here.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Miranda, sourly. ‘Personally, I think it’s a dump.’

  ‘It’s a lot more fun than Ebbenheart Green. That’s so boring. All those trees and nothing to do.’

  Spoilt little brat, Miranda thought. She was tempted to put her to work in the pub. That would teach her a lesson or two. Maybe the next time. Miranda smiled. They were nearing Ben’s workshop.

  ‘I’m taking you to see a friend, his name’s Ben, he’s a friend of Thomas’s. This is his workshop.’

  ‘Ben who owns the horse, Norah.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Norah pulls the cart with his coffins on.’ If Miranda had hoped to shock Alice, she was disappointed.

  ‘That’s so cool. I’ve wanted to see the pony for ages. Is this where the tunnel starts from, as well as where the coffins are made?’

  ‘It is,’ said Miranda, somewhat amused. She pushed on the door, which creaked open.

  ‘What a horrible smell,’ said Alice, slowly.

  ‘It’s probably due to the dead bodies,’ Miranda told her, knowing the smell was caused by the midden and the faulty drain which was always blocked.

  ‘Poor Ben,’ said Alice, frowning, ‘having to work with this smell all day. There’s nobody here.’ She was right there wasn’t. Miranda looked around.

  Ben must have stopped in the middle of a job, his tools were still on the workbench waiting. He won’t be searching the streets for me, she thought bitterly. She looked at Alice.

  ‘Do you want to see this tunnel?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alice, sounding excited. She also looked a little bit nervous.

  I ought to take her back to the pub, Miranda thought, that would be what my ma would do. Taking her down the tunnel would be stupid, the girl would probably be terrified and cry. And if Ben found out, he’d kill me for sure. That clinched it. Miranda picked up a nearby lamp. She turned to Alice.

  ‘Now’s the time, if you mean what you say.’ Alice looked a little bit hesitant.

  ‘I already said I wanted to, didn’t I?’

  ‘Fine, so let’s do it. Remember to keep yourself well wrapped up, there are rats down there and spiders and cobwebs.’

  ‘Rats?’ said Alice, ‘real, live rats? Are they big?’ She paused, considering. ‘I think I’d rather wait for Tom, if you don’t mind.’ Her voice quivered.

  ‘Well, I’m ready now, so it’s up to you. But if you’re a baby and want to wait, we’ll go back outside and wait for Tom. You could be waiting a while, you know.’ Miranda’s smile was less than friendly. Alice sighed.

  ‘No, it’s alright, I’m not a wimp. We’ll go down the tunnel, now like you said.’

  ‘You were the one who wanted to go.’ Miranda bent down and shifted the bricks, then turned to the girl and smiled more warmly. She waved her arm towards the entrance.

  ‘Ladies first.’

  Chapter 68

  Then – Aleph

  If I hadn’t seen what I saw that night, I wouldn’t have believed it. I hurried after the woman and Alice, knowing as I followed them into the alley, that I could be walking into the past. I glanced behind me, hoping to see Ginny or even just the world I knew, but all I saw was the curve of the wall.

  I hadn’t time to look and linger. Alice had vanished, and I had to hurry if I was to catch them. I rushed around the last of the bends, emerged from the alley and into the night. A different night. I paused, briefly.

  I watched them walk down Convent Court, past the church hall, which looked a bit better. The streets were cobbled and the smell from the drains was unbelievable. I followed them right along Pasenheuse Road, which being historic hadn’t much changed. I wanted to stop and take a look but we weren’t that far from Curdizan Low.

  Once they’d turned left onto Croston, I started considering what I should do. I didn’t dare risk getting nearer to Alice, she and the woman seemed pretty pally, talking and nodding, as if they were friends. Maybe they were, Alice was a child, but the woman beside her seemed more like a girl. Her skirt, and the shawl she draped around her made her look older, but her jaunty walk and manner were youthful. I thought myself in some sort of dream. Just like when the accident happened.

  No, I corrected, that was a nightmare.

  Alice and I and the unknown woman wandered down Croston, I could hardly believe what I saw before me. Gone were the piles of builders rubble, the disused crane and the metal gates to fence off danger. Gone was the light and the
open space, the remnants of cobbles and narrow paving. Now there were street signs and tight little corners, clusters of shops, most of them tiny and row upon row of grim terraces, drab little buildings, blocking out light. Croston was the best of the bunch, being wider than most. There were even some people peering through windows, or walking along, smoking a pipe, or chatting together. I was suddenly aware I was out of place, weirdly dressed and probably at risk. Strangers wouldn’t be welcome here. I wished I was broader, rougher and tougher and wearing something a little less smart. Then, I realised the girls had vanished. I saw the Keepsake Arms on the right, all lit up, with the same shabby sign I’d seen before, swinging overhead, and I wondered if they’d gone in there. But I couldn’t be sure.

  I glanced across the road briefly, and noticed a street called Blackberry Close and two figures, fading in the distance. Damn, I thought and dashed across the road to the Close. It was hard to see in the limited light, but I thought if I hurried I might catch them up. I came across a long shabby hedge which bordered the road, and swore when I noticed what was behind it. Another bloody church! This evening was proving a real revelation. I paused briefly.

  I’d often wondered, since the accident happened, if at the time, I’d suffered concussion. Not just the shock of killing the boy, but my head actually hitting the steering wheel, which might have explained the memory loss. The doctors didn’t think so, they said I was fine. But it would have explained such moments as this, when life seemed unreal.

  I knew all the same that this world was real. I could smell it, feel it, the sharpness of twigs on the hedge as I passed, the cool of the brick of the terraced streets and the unpleasant odours that rose from the road. Abattoirs, middens and open sewers. I smelt it all. Everything about me was real and solid. But where was Alice?

  I scanned the street in the black velvet night and thought I could see them, just up ahead. I passed the church and spotted them vanishing into a building. A building I knew. But how did I know it?