Mr Wilmott Gets Old School

by Katherine Hayton

  “The man I spoke to said school expulsions used to be listed.”

  Georgia nodded. “That sounds about right. They had them alongside the court convictions if I remember. Lumped together as though they were of equal concern.”

  She set the machine up with the correct year and scrolled through the pages. With only an approximate date to go on, based on Maui’s recollections, Emily had expected the search to take a long time. Instead, on the second paper, Georgia gave a thumbs-up sign.

  “Astrid Wallheimer. Expelled from Oakhaven School for behaviour unbecoming to a lady.”

  Emily snorted, waiting for the joke, then her eyes opened wide as she understood the librarian was serious. “That’s the reason they gave?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what it means.”

  “It’ll be a code for something, but I can only guess what. Maybe wearing trousers or spitting at a teacher.” Georgia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sure nothing that warranted an announcement in the paper.”

  “The man I spoke to said Astrid left his parent’s employ without giving any notice. I wonder instead if the reverse was true. They saw this and fired her.”

  “Could be. Did you want to search for anything else?”

  Emily shook her head. “No, thanks. You’ve been very helpful. I kind of hoped it would say where she went to next, but I can’t imagine what article would feature that.”

  “In those days, I’d imagine she moved towns and tried again where nobody knew her name. Maybe up the road in Ashburton or down in Christchurch. Probably the latter since it’s easier to get lost in a bigger city.”

  To get lost. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Astrid appeared to have done.

  As Emily was leaving, she had a sudden thought. “I found a reference to her in an old book, it said she left school to pursue a religious vocation. Nothing about being expelled at all.”

  Georgia raised her eyebrows. “Another code?

  “Possibly.” Emily smiled forlornly. “I’m sorry. I don’t have much to go on.”

  “It could mean exactly that. Oakhaven was a Catholic School before the government took it over. I’d imagine it still had ties in that community and a lot of the reform students were pushed towards the church.”

  “Really? Where would she have gone if that’s the case?”

  “Try St Anne’s. They’re the closest parish.”

  Crystal was happy to accompany Emily on another road trip, even one on such late notice and short duration.

  “I must say, all these adventures are keeping me young,” she remarked as she pulled onto State Highway One. “These days, I never know where’ll I’ll end up when I start the day.”

  “Hopefully, back home safe in your bed in time for a good night’s sleep.” Emily’s train of thought sparked an enormous yawn. “That’s what I’m praying for.”

  When they pulled into the gravelled church carpark, Emily was awed by the stained-glass windows. “I think my Anglican upbringing cheated me,” she said to Crystal. “We never had anything as spectacular to look at as that.”

  “It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” Crystal didn’t glance twice at the ornate structure, striding straight to the door and knocking loudly.

  “I think you can just walk in,” Emily said as she joined her, pointing at the opening hours sign. “That sounds like an open invitation.”

  Crystal pushed open the heavy wooden door, shuddering as the hinges gave a horror-movie squeal. “When does the vampire crawl out of the coffin?”

  “Not until midnight.”

  The church had tea light candles, some winking with fire, some unlit, on a shelf opposite the door. Photographs were arranged above them, along with a collection of personal odds and ends—jewellery, ornaments, small toys.

  Pews stretched half the length of the room, ending in a pulpit at one end and a wide aisle at the other. That was the space Emily headed towards, figuring someone might be in an office behind.

  “Hello?” she called out. “Is anybody home?”

  “You sound like a door-to-door salesman,” Crystal muttered. “At least put some oomph into it.” A second later she bellowed, “My kingdom for a priest.”

  A head popped around the entrance, followed a second later by the tallest, thinnest body Emily thought she’d ever seen. If the rack were still in common use, she’d wonder what the man had done to deserve such a stretching.

  “I think I might be the priest you’re seeking,” the man said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

  “We’re tracing the whereabouts of someone who might have come into your order back in the sixties. Astrid Wallheimer? She was originally at a school in Pinetar, but we think she came here next.”

  “You mean she came here as a novitiate?” When Emily nodded, even though she had no idea, he put a hand up to his chin. “There was an order of nuns attached to this parish back then, but they’ve since been absorbed into a church in Christchurch.”

  Emily nodded, keeping her smile fixed in place despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Which church would that be?”

  “Hold on one moment.” The priest held up a finger before walking out of the room. He returned a few minutes later, carrying a large leather-bound tome. “We keep all the records associated with this parish, even after the order based here disbanded. What year did you say?”

  While Emily recited the information, he flipped through the pages, finally happening upon the correct entry. “Here we go.” He beamed a smile at full wattage, and she thought for a moment it was a pity he’d gone into the priesthood. There were many a young woman in Pinetar who would have been glad to make his acquaintance.

  Emily stood on the other side of Crystal, who peered over the priest’s shoulder to see what he’d found. “This says she left the order after six months. That’s not very long.”

  “No, not a long stay. She must’ve been a postulant, or an aspirant, then. They live within the community for a while to see if it’s a good fit.”

  He shuffled through the pages, searching out further entries. “Ah, but hopefully this indicates she wasn’t completely averse to our charms. It shows her in attendance at this parish for years afterwards. The last entry is dated nineteen seventy-two. Either she stopped attending mass, or she moved on.”

  “Would the church have any records of her if she did move away?” Emily bit her lip as she waited for the answer, a shake of the priest’s head.

  “But this says a different name,” Crystal said, pointing to an entry on the page. “This is Astrid Wall instead of Wallheimer. Does that mean she got married or something?”

  “It could be a choice.” The priest flipped back to the original entry. “It changed sometime between her arrival and her first attendance as a standard parishioner. Based on the similarities in the name, I’d assume she shortened her surname. I can’t see a marriage record and it would be a striking coincidence.”

  “We’ve been looking for the wrong name,” Emily said, putting her hands up to cool her flushed cheeks. “No wonder Gregory couldn’t turn anything up on the computer.”

  “Well, then.” The priest closed the book with a thump. “I’m glad I could help. Is there anything else you need?” He waggled his eyebrows at Crystal. “Someone’s kingdom you want to dispose of?”

  They left, still laughing from a mixture of the priest’s humour and pure relief. “I hope this gets us closer,” Emily said, waving to the ghost who’d remained sitting in the back seat of the car. “Although, it’s nice to find any trail, even if it peters out.”

  “Try on Facebook,” Crystal said when they got into the car. When Emily looked blank, she held out her fingers and clicked, “Give me your phone and I’ll do it. Let’s see what we can turn up under the new name.”

  Emily handed it across, feeling the pang when it left her fingertips. Even with the device in full view, separation anxiety struck. Ten years ago, her mobile phone had been a burden that she hoped never rang because it jus
t meant more work. Now, it was a lifeline for navigating a world not designed for the illiterate.

  “Here’s some information,” Crystal said after just a few minutes. “There’re a lot of photos on this page. The woman apparently didn’t know the meaning of a privacy setting. Oh!”

  She stared at the phone for a moment, her face still with shock, then she passed the device back.

  “What is it?” Emily squinted, unable to decipher any meaning.

  “I’m so sorry, it appears the trail petered out, after all.”

  “She stopped posting?”

  “She stopped living.” Crystal’s voice thickened, and she cleared her throat. “Astrid Wall is dead.”

  Emily insisted they travel to the gravesite. Crystal didn’t want to and, in truth, neither did she, but with Mr Wilmott seated, unmoving, in the back seat she needed to at least try to get rid of him.

  “Every time I try to do what I think you want, we end up in exactly the same place.” Emily wrapped her arms so tightly across her chest, it hurt to breathe. “Why can’t you just tell me? I can chase down these dead ends for a million years and never get it right.”

  The grave wasn’t new. Astrid had passed away seven years before. If it had been the space of a few days or a few weeks, Emily might have held out more hope. But seven years?

  It didn’t surprise her too much when Mr Wilmott stayed firmly in tow.

  “If your ghost friend can’t talk, is there another way he can signal you?”

  Emily kicked at a clump of sod on the ground. “We’ve tried all that. If there is, he’s done his best to keep the method hidden.”

  The two women stood beside each other, staring at the grave.

  “Her obituary said she died in hospital,” Crystal said after a long silence. “Maybe that’s the key to it all. We could try visiting the ward where she died.”

  “Even if the hospital would tell us, I doubt it’d do any good.” Emily tried her best to keep the tears back, but her nose ran, and her breathing grew heavy. “This is where her body lies. If this doesn’t trigger any pool of light, I can’t think the room she died in would be any better. A thousand patients must have lain in the same spot since.”

  “I guess you just need to wear a blindfold to bed.”

  Emily turned to her friend, puzzled. “I don’t follow.”

  “Since he’s going to be there, staring at you while you sleep every night, the best you can do is pretend not to see him.”

  The horror of the thought—nights stretching out into years—tugged Emily’s breath away. It mixed up her head until she could do nothing to get rid of it but laugh.

  “It’s not funny,” she insisted, gasping for breath between bouts. “I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

  “Because some things are so dreadful you just have to give in.” Crystal joined her, holding her sides as the fits carried on for too long.

  Finally, they both straightened up, using each other for support.

  “What’s Mr Wilmott doing now?”

  “Staring at the ground.” Emily cocked her head to one side and leaned over, checking there was nothing to see. “It’s what he does best.”

  “The poor thing.” Crystal sighed and rubbed her hand up Emily’s back. “And that goes double for you.”

  “I wish I had the chance to pity someone for a change,” Emily said, groaning. “I felt so sure for a while there we were on the right track.”

  “What else has he told you, apart from his girlfriend’s name?”

  Emily opened her mouth to answer, then felt a tug in the back of her mind.

  “What?” Crystal leaned forward, her expression worried. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s something. A memory.” Emily hissed out a breath. “I almost had it, but it slipped away.”

  “Something about Mr Wilmott or about Astrid?”

  “I don’t know.” Emily stamped her foot into the ground, eyebrows knitting together. “It’s gone.”

  “If it came once, it’ll come again.” Crystal bent over to touch her fingertip to the gravestone, then walked along the path back to the car. “I hope you don’t mind if we stop at the next dairy for something to eat. I’m starving.”

  “Remember when they used to have five cent mixes?”

  “You’re showing your age. In my day, it was ten cents, or twenty.”

  “Fifty got you at least one gobstopper.”

  “My mother always said they made me lose weight because I sucked on them for so long, I skipped entire meals.”

  Emily stopped in her tracks, the threads in the back of her mind knitting together. “Maui said Astrid got fat after starting work in the dairy. He said she ate too many sweets while the store owner wasn’t looking.”

  “A bit harsh, I’ll grant you.” Crystal patted the ample expanse of her own stomach. “But there’s nothing wrong with a bit of padding.”

  “The boy whose family she worked for said she was fat, too. When I looked at her photographs, I could see her being one to gain weight easily. She had that rounded look, already.”

  Crystal had stopped walking when Emily did and now stared at her with open concern. “Look, I know it’s awful that women are judged on their appearance, but that’s how things are. Back then, you can expect it’d be even worse.”

  Emily tugged on her friend’s sleeve, trying to sort out the words to bring her dancing thoughts together. “She was expelled from the school. From reform school. You remember Maui said most of the girls there had been caught doing stuff like kissing boys behind the bike sheds?”

  “Yeah, I remember. It got my back up.”

  “Mine, too. But maybe, in some cases, that’s the only way those girls knew how to express affection.” Emily stared at the ground, not wanting to check with Mr Wilmott in case she saw another dead-end in his eyes.

  “The article in the paper wrote her expulsion was due to behaviour unbecoming to a lady. I just thought it was some old-fashioned tosh, but it means something. It meant something. Just like spending six months in a nunnery immediately afterwards meant something.”

  Crystal shrugged. “Meant what?”

  “Astrid was pregnant. They expelled her from the school because she was about to have a baby.”

  “Steady on. I don’t think they let you join a religious order when you’re an unwed mother. Especially not back then.”

  “She didn’t join them. They housed her. It’s part of what a lot of these organisations did at the time. They took in the mothers and placed their babies out for adoption. Some places did it within a few weeks, but many nunneries allowed the mothers six months to change their minds.”

  Finally, unable to bear the thought of what she’d do now if she was wrong, Emily turned her gaze to Fred. The ghost smiled, tears running down his face.

  “We’re not searching for his old girlfriend. He wants to say goodbye to his son.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  If the priest was surprised to see them for the second time in a day, he hid the emotion well.

  “You’re right. The order did cater for unmarried mothers but I’m afraid I’d never be able to let you see those records. They’re sealed at the very least, if not destroyed.” He held his hands out to either side, a stick insect mimicking remorse. “As much as I’d love to help you, I can’t.”

  “What about the sisters who would’ve been working in the convent at the time?” Emily banged her hand on the pew in excitement. “Your employment records aren’t sealed, are they?”

  “You’re talking about so long ago, it probably won’t do you any good. I can give you a list, but if you’re serious about tracking a baby down after so long, a private investigator might be a better bet.”

  “How d’you know we’re not private investigators?” Crystal asked and Emily could practically see her friend composing the business card in her mind as she spoke.

  The priest leaned forward, presumably to hide a blossoming grin. “If you are, please show me your ID.�
�� He looked up, an eyebrow cocked, then inclined his head towards them. “In that case, I think we’ve reached the end of the road, here.”

  “What would you give a PI that you won’t give us?” Emily demanded as he escorted them to the door.

  “A hard time,” the priest said with a smile. “And a lesson on what information is and isn’t publicly available, in stronger language than what I’ve given you.”

  The expulsion from the church might have been gentle, but it was also final.

  “What now?” Crystal drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “He’s right. If those records are sealed, the only person who might be able to find anything out is the person we’re searching for.”

  “There must be some way to do it.” Emily turned and watched the emotions play out across Fred’s face. The transformation from sullen to fully animated was incredible. She didn’t want to watch the change in reverse.

  “Wolfgang?” she asked, and Mr Wilmott nodded. “Try searching online for that name. There can’t be many men around here called that, surely.”

  “If the adoptive parents even let him keep the name.”

  “Maybe she changed her mind?” When Crystal glanced up, brows raised, Emily explained, “If Astrid spent six months with the baby, perhaps she managed to work out a way to keep him.”

  “There wasn’t any mention of him on her gravestone, so I’m going to say no to that one.”

  “They could’ve fallen out later.”

  Crystal cocked her right eyebrow at Emily until she fell silent. Yeah, it was a long shot.

  “Okay. We have three results in Canterbury. One has a birthday at completely the wrong time of the year. One has everything in his profile set to private. The last looks like he’s seventeen, tops.”

  Emily peered over at the phone, squinting to see if that improved the images. “Why can’t they take a nice profile shot?” she grumbled. “Standing still and face to the camera.”