Shadows of the Lost Child

by Ellie Stevenson

  The street was alive with a brand new day, people shouting hello to each other, the slip-slop of water carried in buckets and the sound of wheels on the rough cobbled road. I eased myself onto my feet slowly and emerged from the yard, looking around. I noticed some people heading this way, so I waited until they’d all walked past, wondering if I should try the door. But despite my efforts, after they’d gone, the coach house door remained firmly shut.

  After one last attempt, I hurried away, keeping my head down and heading for Croston. The street to the north and hopefully home. I’d given up hope of finding Alice.

  Until I saw the Keepsake Arms. This was where Miranda’s mum lived, or worked or both, according to Scotty. I hurried towards it. The streets were now alive with people, it was well past nine, according to my watch, but for all I knew the watch might be wrong. The place was heaving.

  I narrowly missed being hit by a cart, and some of the passers by stared and laughed. I doubted my clothes or my hairstyle helped. I stopped abruptly outside the pub and wasn’t surprised to find it closed. But then I heard voices, coming from the passage next door to the pub and one of them sounded just like a girl’s. I hurried along it, right to the end, peering carefully around the corner. There was the girl from yesterday evening, talking to a woman, her mother, I guessed. I couldn’t see any sign of Alice.

  ‘What have you done with my dress, Mother?’

  ‘Which one do you mean, you’ve got so many?’ The mother was pegging out clothes on the line.

  ‘You know the one, it’s red and satin, I love that dress and now I can’t find it.’

  ‘You mean the one that’s ripped up the side.’

  ‘I was going to repair it, sew up the tear, that’s all the dress needed.’

  ‘I thought it was rags and fit for the bin.’

  ‘You’re joking, Mother! That dress was the best I’d ever had, and you threw it out because of a tear! A tiny tear. I can’t believe you’d do such a thing.’

  ‘More than a tiny tear, Miranda. And as it happens, I didn’t throw it out. I gave it to Curdizan Church for the sale, or maybe I gave it to the rag and bone man, I can’t remember. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, it was only a dress, your blue one’s better.’

  ‘My blue one’s plain, and boring, as hell. Thank you Ma, for nothing, as usual.’ Miranda dropped the clothes on the ground and ignoring her mother’s scream of rage, she hurried along the passage past me. I pressed myself into a nook, quickly, but she didn’t even glance my way. When she’d passed I breathed out with a sigh, but knew I had to follow the girl.

  I chased Miranda to Curdizan High, calling her name a couple of times, I needed to know where Alice had gone. But she was fast, much faster than me, and she knew her way around this place, at a time when the streets were full of people, and carts and washing, all blocking the way. It took far too long.

  I caught her up as we reached the alley, she’d just disappeared, and I followed behind her, feeling that sense of déjà vu. When I finally reached the end of the passage, I saw the shadow of Miranda ahead. I’ve done it at last, I said to myself, now I’ll get to know where Alice is. I left the passage and stepped out into the morning light, the light that fell on the road and the church, but there was no church, the church had gone. I stopped, frozen.

  I looked about me, puzzled, tentative. All I could see was Scriveners Road and a smartly-paved courtyard, dotted with seats. Slabs of gravestone, flat in the ground. People who were wearing clothes like mine. I sighed with relief.

  The world looked better than it had for ages. I’d lost Miranda and I hadn’t found Alice, and little Daniel was still dead, but at least I was here, alive, in my time.

  Chapter 71

  Then – Carol

  Carol Islip, Thomas’s mother, liked early mornings better than most. Her husband Scotty worked at the mill, and when he did earlies, he left the house sooner. Not that it made much difference to his drinking, he still drank every evening, and went on drinking half the night. Like the night before, a terrible night, when he’d come home even more worse for wear, raving about Miranda Collenge, a kid and a man with an Irish look.

  ‘You need to lay off the booze,’ she’d said, and she’d wondered if she’d gone too far, when she saw his face and the look in his eyes, when she put his breakfast down before him. But Scotty drunk and as mean as they come, was less so sober, or almost sober, a bit of a lout, but not with his fists, so he gobbled his food up and said nothing.

  Carol watched him finish the bacon, a bit of a treat, though he didn’t deserve it, mopping it up with a crust of bread, the last in the house. She felt a glow of pride inside, of work well done and a breakfast served and a man of her own, up and ready for the working day, and if Thomas was staring at his da, wanting a slice of bacon too, well, that was too bad, he’d get his own share up at the school, they fed him up there.

  She frowned, thinking that Thomas wasn’t like her, if she’d been Scotty, she’d have asked more questions, checked that the boy was really his. The lad was quick and as sharp as a needle, but sometimes too soft, despite her clouts and the surly looks and clips from his da. He’s young, she thought, he’ll grow out of that soon, as soon as he lands a job with men.

  She didn’t much rate the jobs he had, riding a bike and washing up glasses, girls’ jobs they were. She turned away to the sink quickly, pushing away the thoughts in her mind, the thoughts of the other, the one who was lost, who would have been hers. A single tear slid down her cheek.

  ‘I’m off now Ma,’ yelled Tom, as he went, and Carol didn’t even look up from the bowl, just raised a hand and went on with the dishes, on Haversham Road and those much like it, the dirt and the dishes went on forever. Her husband left, and for a few moments, glorious, golden, precious moments, she had the place to herself, for once. The space to breathe. Before the bustle of the day began.

  Carol didn’t much like laundry work, it was physical work, hard and steamy and not for the feeble, lifting up heavy sheets from the tubs, feeling the cloth weighted down with water, the sweat and the soap and the slippery floors. But it paid the bills, thank God it did, and Carol didn’t know anything else. She sighed heavily.

  Now Tanya Curtis was at her door.

  ‘Hello Tanya,’ Carol said, frowning, wiping her hands on her morning pinny. ‘I’m just off out, was there something you wanted?’

  ‘I thought we’d have that cup of tea,’ Tanya said, smiling, squeezing past Carol and into her house. ‘The one you promised the other week. I’m sure you remember?’

  Carol wished she didn’t remember, but either way it didn’t matter, the woman had made her way in, already. Girl, really, Carol thought, she was only young, and not bad looking. Grudgingly.

  ‘I can spare five minutes, there’s tea in the pot.’ Like many of those who lived nearby, she kept well away from Tanya Curtis. The woman looked smart, she’d give her that, but everyone knew just what she was. A well-dressed tart. And not just for feeding a family, either. Tanya enjoyed it.

  ‘I want to tell you a little story,’ Curtis informed her, plumping herself on the chair quickly. ‘Seeing as how I think we’re friends.’

  Friends? thought Carol, Not in my book. But she couldn’t help feeling sad for the woman, apart from her so-called nephew, Jake, she was all on her own, and likely to stay so. Men liked Tanya, but not for keeps. It couldn’t hurt Carol to sit for a while. Tanya smiled and sipped her tea.

  ‘I know about the shoes,’ she said. ‘The ones you took from Matt McCarthy.’

  ‘What?’ said Carol, disbelieving. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I think you do, said Tanya, slyly. You and that slut from the Keepsake Arms, Hannah Collenge, stole them from him. Not that I blame you, not like her, the uppity cow.’ She stopped for a minute to gulp back tea.

  ‘Hannah’s my friend, you leave her alone.’

  ‘You’d do much better with a friend like me, what has she ever done for you? M
att always had his eye on me, until she came along, smiling her smile and winning him round with her talk of beer. Then all of a sudden I’m on the street. Not literally,’ she added, hastily. Carol said nothing and Tanya sniffed. ‘But I didn’t come here to talk about her. Although it does rankle, her being older.’

  ‘So what did you come here to talk about?’

  ‘I came to say, as a friend, Carol, that I understand you’ve faced tough times, that Scotty isn’t always working full-time, that he’s often laid off, especially when he’s been on the booze.’

  ‘Now, wait a minute,’ Carol said, sharply, jumping up to defend her man, but Tanya laughed and waved her back down. Carol sat.

  ‘So, as I say, I know you’re hard up, and as you’re a friend I’d like to help, and I will if you’ll let me. I thought you might have a use for this.’ She reached down into her shopping bag, and put the candlestick on the table. Carol gasped.

  ‘Where did you get that? Is it silver?’

  Tanya smiled and shook her head. ‘You don’t need to know, believe me, Carol, it’s better that way, but it is silver and it’s yours if you want it. It’ll fetch a good price in the marketplace.’

  ‘I take it, it’s stolen?’ Carol said, wary.

  ‘As far as I know it’s proper stock. Or it was before it came into my hands. Stock that was being disposed of elsewhere, if you get my drift.’ She grinned at Carol, and Carol smiled back, a little uncertain. ‘Most of the profit would be yours, you know. You and Scotty are the ones with the contacts.’

  Carol nodded and picked it up, she’d never tried flogging silver before, but the piece was nice, and if there was more… She turned it around and put it back down. ‘Where did you say it came from, Tanya?’

  Tanya grinned and shook her head. ‘It’s better that you don’t ask me, Carol. All I’m doing is testing the water, and if you’re keen, that’s a lot more stuff where that one came from.’

  ‘Really?’ said Carol, studying every tiny detail.

  ‘There’s a whole lot more,’ said Tanya softly, ‘and don’t try saying it isn’t worth much. I know enough, it’s better than nice. So why don’t we talk about my commission, assuming you manage to sell the piece? And maybe a bonus for regular stock.’ Her eyes met Carol’s.

  Carol paused. She glanced at the walls which were always damp and covered with faded, peeling paper. She thought about how they shared the loo and how Thomas needed a few more clothes. How Scotty’s arms ached from carrying sacks and how breathing was often a struggle these days. That factory job was killing him. She smiled at Tanya.

  ‘I’m sure we can find a fee that suits, and there might be a bonus for regular stock, assuming, of course, we can sell this one. It’s a specialist market, you know Tanya, not everyone wants this sort of thing.’ Like hell they don’t, said Carol to herself. ‘I’ll have to be careful how I do it. It didn’t come from the Low, I hope?’

  ‘No, not to begin with,’ Tanya said, ‘but it might be best sold out of town. If you get my drift, Carol, my love.’ Carol did. She nodded, thinking.

  ‘It’s best to be careful.’ She went to a drawer and pulled out a towel, wrapped the thing in it and put it away. ‘I’ll do what I can, as fast as I can, but I can’t promise anything.’

  Tanya nodded and smiled slightly, and just for a moment, she looked like a lass, instead of a hard case.

  ‘Come back again in a couple of days, and I’ll let you know then if I’ve had any luck. I can’t rush it, Tanya, it’ll spoil the price.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Tanya, standing up, ‘but I’ve bills to pay, and Jake needs clothes. I’d be grateful for an answer as soon as you can.’

  But not for money for Jake, thought Carol. For drinks and clothes and chatting up men and also because you want it shifting. Before the ‘owner’ sees it’s missing. She smiled, knowingly.

  ‘It’s good to have friends,’ said Tanya, coyly, as Carol then led her towards the door. ‘I know you’re a mate, I’ve always said so.’

  Have you indeed? thought Carol, sourly, waving her off down Haversham Road and knowing she’d be late for work. She wondered amused, if Tanya would think she was such a mate, if she knew about her and Matt McCarthy.

  Chapter 72

  Now – Aleph

  I was tired out from my night in the past and besieged by messages on my phone from clients I hadn’t had the time to contact. I couldn’t get hold of Cressida either, not a good start to the day, all round. I stood in the kitchen, slightly bemused and made myself coffee, strong coffee, just for a change. The telephone rang.

  ‘It’s me, Guinevere. Did you get my note?’

  ‘No, what note?’ I told her, puzzled. I looked around the kitchen, quickly.

  ‘It’s in the hall, on the newel post. Go and have a look.’

  Alice is safe and I’m going home. I’ll call later. Hope you’re alright.

  Damn Alice, I said to myself. What a waste of time, but at least she’s safe.

  ‘So when did Alice get back?’ I said.

  ‘Six in the morning, or thereabouts. Cressida said she looked a mess. Or so I’ve been told.’

  And I know why, I thought grimly. ‘I bet Cressida was pleased about that.’

  ‘She was glad to have her home and safe. She hadn’t been out all night, apparently.’

  ‘So where had she been instead? I asked. Did Cressida say?’

  ‘She did,’ said Ginny, her voice changing. ‘According to Alice, she stayed with you.’

  Later that day the doorbell rang. I’d made some appointments, drank more coffee and done some accounting, rather reluctantly. I’d still not managed to get hold of Cressida. I didn’t know what I was going to tell her. Should I say what had happened or not?

  I opened the door, and there was Alice, not looking that much better than me.

  ‘You ought to get your bell fixed, Aleph. Can I come in?’ I moved to the side and let her waltz past, a frown on her usually solemn face. I saw she wasn’t carrying her iPad. I smiled warmly, a bit of an effort.

  ‘Coffee?’ I said. ‘Or water or fruit juice?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘But thanks, all the same.’ We both sat down at the kitchen table.

  ‘I saw you last night, with Miranda, wasn’t it? I followed you down to Curdizan Low.’ Alice nodded, not sounding surprised.

  ‘I thought you’d follow us into the tunnel. But you didn’t, why not?’

  ‘The door to the coachhouse was closed,’ I told her. ‘I couldn’t get in.’ I wasn’t going to mention the woman I’d seen, I didn’t want to frighten Alice unnecessarily. Although, maybe I should, if it stopped her doing such stupid things.

  ‘It was awful,’ said Alice, ‘I wish I hadn’t persuaded her to take me. The tunnel was dark, and it smelt horrible, and the ground was uneven, I kept tripping up, and then I fell over. We didn’t come up in the church, either, Miranda refused to take me that way but she wouldn’t say why. We were going to go through the basement instead, that’s your cellar, but the door was locked and we couldn’t get in. Talk about a right fiasco.’

  ‘So then you had to walk back to the coach house?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right and that was even worse than before. Miranda had brought a lamp with her, but the lamp was rubbish and she kept on trying to scare me stupid. Telling me tales of rats and spiders. What a cow!’

  ‘I’ll bet you weren’t scared, all the same.’ I smiled at Alice. ‘You were the one who wanted to go.’

  ‘Ha!’ said Alice looking at me as if to say, I know what you’re up to. Humouring me. It won’t work.

  ‘Didn’t you think your mum would be worried?’ I asked, softly. I didn’t want to alienate her.

  ‘I never thought it would take all night! It wouldn’t have done, if we’d done what I wanted and gone through the church. When we couldn’t get out through the basement, I thought we’d be able to use the church. But no, Miranda insisted we couldn’t. I was so annoyed you can’t imagine. Besides, she shouldn’t hav
e agreed to take me, I’m only a child.’

  That made me smile. ‘It wasn’t that good for me, either, sleeping outside, with the horse for company.’

  ‘You’ve met Norah?’ Alice perked up.

  ‘I have,’ I said, and a man called Scotty. I didn’t think Alice would have liked Scotty much. ‘Why did you run away, in the first place?’

  ‘Mother upset me, just for a change. She asked if I’d seen… that boy you killed, after I’d left them, to go to Annerley’s. She asked if that’s why I wouldn’t talk, to her anyway. ‘

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told her, no, that I hadn’t seen the accident. I know it’s a lie, but you have to lie sometimes.’ Her eyes were firmly fixed on the table.

  ‘You should have told your mother the truth. She’d understand, you know she would. She’d even help you deal with the pain.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Alice, ‘and you mustn’t say I’ve got to tell her. Please don’t, Aleph.’

  My mind was running around in circles. ‘How did your mother know what happened?’

  ‘Probably from reading the local paper. I guess she remembered because of the date, it happened to be the day that I went missing.’

  They couldn’t have put my name in the paper, or Cressida would have known it was me. But odd to remember a stranger’s death after all that time, except, perhaps because Daniel was a child, and it happened the day her daughter vanished, as Alice had just said. Maybe Cressida realised she was lucky, because her child, Alice came back alive.

  ‘I guess you haven’t told her then,’ Alice was saying, sounding edgy. ‘You haven’t said it was you who caused it?’ I shook my head.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘that’s right, I haven’t.’ Alice looked angry.

  ‘You told me once your name means truth. So isn’t it time you said it was you?’