‘This is where we’re supposed to be meeting?’ Miranda felt very uncomfortable here, so close to what they’d recently done. She clutched her bag of clothes to her chest.
‘It is,’ said Ben. ‘But about this place you say you’ve chosen, are you sure we’ll never be found?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Miranda. ‘But I’m not that sure, if they don’t turn up.’
Ben flashed her a grin at her impatience, and Miranda’s heart lifted. There’s hope, she thought, and maybe a future, so long as I know he didn’t do it. I won’t believe it.
Then she saw Eisen emerge from the night.
What if it’s Wetherby Eisen instead? All the doubts that besieged her came back with a vengeance. Is this a murderer’s friend I’m with?
Mary-Ann, her own friend, appeared by the hedge, she was looking very thoughtful, but was well wrapped up. The two girls hugged and set off immediately, walking up Croston, arm in arm. They were careful to keep to the side of the road.
When they all finally reached the alley, Miranda guided them through from the front, with Wetherby Eisen walking at the back, keeping a look out. As the passageway neared its end, she stopped briefly, catching a glimpse of Curdizan courtyard. Yes, she thought, the intent worked. This is the place. Miranda smiled slowly. Then she saw Alice.
She leant back and gestured to Ben, getting her friend to bring them all closer. ‘Have a quick look and see what you think.’ She’d primed Ben, she knew she could trust him to do the right thing. While they were looking she gestured to Alice.
Alice came closer, into the passage. They huddled together in a tiny corner. Miranda struggled to open her bag.
‘I’m so pleased to see you Alice. I didn’t have time to talk to Tom. Would you be able to give him a message?’
‘Yes,’ said Alice, sounding fed up. Miranda looked at the girl more closely. Her face was swollen, with crying probably, and her hair was a mess, gone was the little princess she’d met. She’s sad, thought Miranda, we’re all very sad. She removed the single boot from her bag.
‘I’d like you to give this boot to Thomas. It’s very important you do what I ask. I know I can trust you to do that, can’t I?’
The girl didn’t speak but she managed to nod and Miranda felt guilty for not asking questions. But she didn’t have time to deal with the girl.
‘Tell him the boot belongs to Louise. She’s a friend like you, and also his sister although Tom doesn’t know that, you’ll have to tell him. Remind him she left of her own accord and that means she will probably come back, whenever she’s ready.’ Miranda didn’t know if the last bit was true, but Tom needed hope, especially now that she and Ben were leaving. She paused, briefly.
‘Tell him I’m sorry about the necklace, I felt I had to leave it for Tanya. I couldn’t leave the woman with nothing. He might not understand that bit, but that doesn’t matter, just tell him, anyway. And last of all, please tell him I’m safe and alive not dead, I’ve just gone away, to a different place. That he’ll always be in my heart, forever. You will remember to tell him that, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ said Alice, ‘I’m not stupid.’ She took the boot. ‘We’ve got a boot like this,’ she said. ‘Or Aleph has.’ She looked downcast.
‘I hid the other in a trunk off the tunnel. Maybe it’s yours.’ Alice smiled.
‘Tom admired you, looked up to you, really. And he called you a friend; a mate’s what he said, more than once.’
‘We were,’ said Miranda, ‘and we always will be, like I told you. I have to go, now.’
She beckoned to the others and smiled at Alice, and then she walked past her, afraid she might cry, and indeed, a tear dripped down one cheek, but she brushed it away and emerged from the passage onto the street and into the start of a brand new life. A brand new, twenty-first century life. The others were standing together, amazed.
‘You’re sure they won’t find us here?’ said Wetherby.
Miranda shook her head and smiled. ‘It’s what you might call a new beginning.’
Chapter 100
Then – Thomas
It wasn’t until I arrived at the pub, the next evening, that I understood Miranda’s behaviour. She had been restless the evening before and hadn’t been amused by the things I’d said. She’d looked as if she wanted to cry, but she was a mate, and stoical with it, and you didn’t ask mates that sort of thing. Ma and Da had been miserable too, even more so than normal, but I’d assumed they were fed up with packing. The packing seemed to have started again. So, today, I avoided all of that, and after school had finished for the day, I went round to the pub. Miranda’s ma was sobbing her heart out.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ I asked Cath and Reg, who were sitting in the parlour, drinking whisky.
‘Miranda’s packed her bags and gone,’ Cath informed me, filling her glass to the brim with spirits. ‘Perks of the job,’ she said, winking.
‘I don’t think Hannah would want you to do that.’
‘It’s Mrs Collenge to you,’ said Cath, ‘and if I’m right, the woman won’t care. Seeing as she’s lost her only daughter.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said, fearful.
‘Because Ben’s gone and done the same. His workshop’s shut and where’s the sign? I bet he removed it before he left.’ She eyed me keenly.
‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t believe it.’ Miranda and Ben as a couple, yes, I’d noticed something had finally happened. But running away together, no. Miranda wasn’t that sort of girl. And how could they have left me behind?
I don’t know how I got through the evening. The pub had a lot more trade than normal, people came round to soak up the gossip, then went home indignant when they’d learnt nothing new. Hannah Collenge stayed out of the way. Reg and Cath were serving in the bar, but as they’d been drinking whisky all day, they were worse than useless. Besides, Cath was only used to ale.
The moment the pub closed down for the night, I grabbed a couple of tools from out back and hurried across to Blackberry Close. Then I hid in the yard until it was quiet.
Ben’s workshop was all locked up, but being at school with a load of rogues had taught me things, some of them sometimes more than useful. I took out a file and prised the door open, just enough to weaken the lock, then a twist and a turn with a couple of tools and I was inside. Holding a large lamp, nicked from the pub.
I reckoned if there were clues to them leaving, I’d find them in here.
The workshop was cold, dank and creepy and missing Ben’s presence and so was I. I swallowed hard and tried not to run. Maybe this was the time to grow up. I didn’t much want to.
I cast the lamp around the room, the tools were in place, and neatly stacked, Ben was a stickler for that sort of thing. The coffin lids hung on the walls proudly, some of them seemed to sway in the dark. I took a deep breath. The place smelt odd, but I put that down to the work he did, although I can’t say I’d smelt it before. I felt the smallest prickle of unease.
Next, I shone my lamp on the floor. Everything looked the same as normal, apart from a mark, I thought it was paint. The paint was a dark reddish-brown colour. That’s new, I thought and ran my finger across the smear, it was almost dry. But when I sniffed, the smell was familiar. I jumped back quickly.
That’s blood on the floor! Then I heard a rustle, and froze suddenly.
It’s probably rats, I told myself. But the blood on the floor was something else. I knew I ought to get a policeman. But what if that meant trouble for Ben? I had to look further.
I looked around the room carefully. I couldn’t see any more blood anywhere. Maybe Ben had cut himself, on a tool or something. I didn’t believe it.
Then I noticed the door to the room. The room that led to the tunnel and the church. I remembered that room, I needed to check it.
Don’t, said a voice, you’ll only regret it. But I had to look, whatever I found. By now my mind was racing ahead, imagining all the worst that could happen. It’ll be alright,
I told myself. Sure it will.
I tried the door but it wouldn’t open. Relief was followed by more apprehension, what was in there that it had to be locked? So I did what I always do when I can, I picked the lock. The door opened, released suddenly, and I fell backwards onto the floor. Onto the smear of almost dried blood. Shit, I thought.
The room that led to the tunnel was small. I moved the lamp around carefully, there was nothing to see, just a mug and some fags and an empty floor. But the smell was stronger.
I wasn’t prepared to go down the tunnel, I’d thought about that and dismissed the idea. But I had to be sure I’d checked in here. I shone the lamp in all the corners. Then I saw the rags on the floor.
I picked them up to examine them closely. A couple of pieces were doused in blood and I flinched at the sight, both the rags and the blood and dropped them at once. But then the lamp flickered and I saw in my hands I’d held the proof. There was too much blood and the dress was Miranda’s, the red satin one she’d worn to tempt Ben. Miranda’s blood, all over my hands. And Ben’s betrayal of love and friendship. I couldn’t believe it. I stood in the dark and howled like a kid.
When time had passed and I’d cried myself out, and feeling slightly ashamed of myself, I thought a bit more.
I wondered where her body was hidden. It had to be Ben who’d hidden Miranda, this was his workshop, why else would her blood be on his floor? Even if somebody else had killed her, like Wetherby Eisen, Ben must have known for the blood to be here. It had to have been a man, I thought, I doubted a woman could move a body, not down to the tunnel and all by herself.
So was she in the tunnel? I wondered. I wasn’t going to look.
I knew I ought to fetch the police, for Miranda’s sake, but she was dead and Ben was alive, although God knows where, and I didn’t want him to suffer either, in spite of what I believed he’d done. I couldn’t turn him over to them. I stared at his bench, at the now cold tea, and then at his jacket, hanging from a hook behind the door, and touched it lightly, feeling the fabric. Then I turned around and left the room.
The next morning, very early, I returned with a lock and a huge bag of nails and secured the door to the tiny room, hammering hard until it was sealed, locked and nailed up, so no-one else would see what I’d seen. I left the scraps of Miranda’s dress, but covered them up with some leaves from the yard and a flower I stole from behind the bar. Its white petals were already drooping, but the white of the plant went well with the red. My job was done.
I emerged carefully onto the street, feeling weak and weighed down with guilt for letting Miranda’s killer go free, and then, out of nowhere, I thought of Louise and the whole damn thing was just too much. So I wandered up towards the school, despite there being no classes today, just for something normal to do. The sun was shining and dogs were barking and wherever I looked people were laughing, or making a joke or a deal or two. But I wasn’t laughing.
After hanging around for several hours I made my way back to Curdizan Low, and as I approached the alley’s dark shadows, I saw a tall figure walking towards me. I smiled, slightly, in spite of it all. ‘Alice,’ I said.
Chapter 101
Then – Thomas
Alice and I sat by the tenements, not the ones Louise had lived in, this was a block off Convent Court, but far enough from the pub to be safe. I wanted to be away from people and prying eyes, so we moved to the courtyard, next to the privies, to talk in private. Alice, it seemed, had a lot to say.
‘I saw your friend Miranda recently.’
‘Yes, I know. When she took you along the tunnel,’ I said. Even hearing her name was hard.
‘No, more recently, yesterday morning, very early, after midnight. She was in the alley by Curdizan church, with three other people.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘that can’t be right, Miranda’s dead. It was dark Alice, you couldn’t have seen her.’
‘Of course I saw her, why does everyone think I’m stupid? She gave me this, to give to you.’ She handed me a small brown boot.
‘It’s the one from the pub,’ I exclaimed, surprised.
‘She said it belonged to a girl called Louise. Miranda said the girl was your sister.’
‘You what?’ I said. ‘Louise, my sister? You’ve got that wrong.’
‘That’s what she told me,’ Alice said, sharply, looking annoyed. She also said Louise would come back, but she didn’t sound sure.’
‘Miranda’s dead, I know, I’ve seen – don’t ask me how, just, trust me, I know.’
‘Alright, I won’t. But she looked like flesh and blood to me. She wasn’t a ghost, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘I wasn’t,’ I said. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘She said she was sorry about the necklace. She felt she had to leave it with Tanya. She said she couldn’t leave her with nothing.’
‘Really?’ I said. I didn’t dare hope or even wonder. Was the body Tanya’s instead? Maybe Tanya had stolen the goods and they’d used the dress to mop up the blood. But if it was Tanya, why had she died and who had killed her? What I was thinking wasn’t much better, Miranda alive but someone had still killed Tanya Curtis. It must have been Ben.
‘Are you sure that’s it?’ I said to Alice.
‘She said to tell you she wasn’t dead, just gone away to a different place. I think they were coming to my time and place, if you know what I mean. She said to tell you, she’d never forget you.’
‘And I won’t, her,’ I said, choked up. I was glad Miranda was alive and not dead, but she was still lost, to me at least, and Louise was still missing, and Ben might still be Curtis’s killer. All of the people I’d cared for were gone. I stared at Alice.
‘You could go too,’ said Alice to me then, ‘to my time and place, if you want to. I’ve got the gift to take people through. Miranda has too.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, thinking it could be better and brighter and alive, much more exciting than living my life in this dark, grubby, world, without all my mates. But what about Louise? I’d been waiting and hoping for news forever, and now I knew more, but Louise was still missing, might never come back and if she did, I wouldn’t be here. The friend I’d not known as a sister was gone. Along with the rest. I thought my heart would break right then.
‘I once had a friend,’ said Alice, suddenly, ‘apart from you. He was younger than me and his name was Danny.’
‘That’s a pretty cool name for a lad,’ I said. Alice just smiled.
‘Danny was killed, he was hit by a car, and the man who was driving the car was a friend. Although he wasn’t a friend of mine when it happened.’
‘That’s very sad,’ I said, confused.
‘You know what cars are, Tom, don’t you?’
‘Of course,’ I said. How dare she ask! I’d seen a few on Scriveners Road, an amazing sight, they were going so fast. We all got out of their way, sharpish. ‘I’m very sorry,’ I told her, softly. ‘About your friend. That must have been bad, to have had that happen.’
‘It was,’ she said. ‘And Aleph, the friend who drove the car, he blamed himself, and my mother, Cressida, blamed herself, and I, also, blame myself, because I waved to Danny and he crossed the road and got knocked down. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.’
‘That’s terrible, Alice,’ I said sadly, and patted her shyly on the arm. ‘That’s so terrible.’
‘But now I see,’ she said, thoughtfully, ‘it was just what happened, the cycle of life and death goes on. We all do our best, and sometimes, often, things can go wrong, and that’s just how it was with Daniel. I miss Danny loads, and you’ll miss Louise, especially now you know she’s your sister, but life goes on, it has to, Tom. Trust me, it will.’
‘Alright,’ I said. ‘I’ll come back with you.’
‘No, Tom, no, it’s not with me. You can go there yes, but only for yourself.’
‘I’ll need some things,’ I told her, thinking. ‘And I want to say goodbye to them all. Without them even kno
wing I’m saying it.’ Alice nodded.
‘I’ll give you till mid-afternoon,’ she said.
Going back home to Ma and Da seemed almost unreal. I passed the pub, but didn’t go in, I didn’t want to see all the regulars, people I’d known for several years but wouldn’t know soon. I didn’t want to sense Miranda, feel her presence and know she was gone. It would be too sad.
When I reached home Ma was still chattering.
‘Mary-Ann Parks and Wetherby Eisen, would you believe it, the vicar’s daughter? Mary-Ann’s ma is so upset, you wouldn’t believe.’
I would, I thought. I really would. My ma didn’t seem like herself today. She loved to hear gossip, would soak up the scandal and share it all too, but today her reactions seemed rather subdued. Maybe they’re not leaving, after all, I thought. Their dreams have been shattered and plans cancelled while everybody else is leaving instead. And then I remembered Tanya Curtis. Did anyone know?
I grabbed some things and stuffed them into an old canvas bag, which I put out back so they wouldn’t see it and went to fetch my boots from the fire. I hardly ever wore my boots, Da had told me I couldn’t have them but Ma had gone soft and bought me some once.
‘Only for Sundays,’ she’d told me, sternly, ‘and maybe at Christmas.’
I bent down, to pick up the boots, and noticed the streak of red-brown on the hearth, it was much the same as I’d seen at Ben’s. I did the same as I’d done before and rubbed a finger across the colour, it came away smudged and smelt like blood. The blood was dry but some flakes of dust had come off on my skin. My mother came in.
‘Tanya?’ I said, and watched as her face went pale with shock. My mother looked ill. She sat down in a chair.
‘Was it Da?’ I said, slowly, and my ma shook her head and looked regretful.
‘No, it was me, and, truly Thomas, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it. We’d had a struggle and Tanya fell over, she slipped on the hearthstone and banged her head. Then your da came home and between us we moved her, before she was seen.’ She paused, breathed deeply. ‘You’ve no idea how sorry I am.’ She burst into tears.
Shadows of the Lost Child Page 31
