by Daisy White
“I didn’t do anything,” I point out, smiling at her pleasure.
“You did. You did something, rattled someone’s cage. We said that these things that have been happening were all connected, and we were right. Now Ella is coming home with me at last. They said I can come back and pick her up tomorrow. She still doesn’t know me, of course, and she won’t talk much, but she’s alive and that is all that matters for the moment.”
Yes, I have indeed rattled someone’s cage. DS Appleton is going to come looking for me on a dark night, if I’m not very careful. And he mentioned Will. I need to find out how much he knows . . . What a mess.
“I’m so happy for you, Bev, but there are still a lot of questions only Ella can answer . . . Like, where the hell has she been for the last ten years, and why she suddenly appeared on the beach a few months after your release from prison. It gives me a queer feeling right here in my stomach.” Annie rummages for a handkerchief in the pocket of her spotted pink dress.
“So you can really bring Ella home tomorrow? That is such good news. Did she . . . did she say any more?” I drag my thoughts back to the most important thing.
“No. She definitely doesn’t remember me.” Beverly pauses. “But she will once she’s home, I’m sure of it. Wait until I tell Aunt Sarah!”
I get the bus back down the promenade and then run home up Ship Street in the darkness.
The baby is sleeping and Mary is drinking tea with Kenny. They seem quite at ease, chatting softly as I come in.
“Hallo Mary, was Summer alright?” Bending down to rest a hand on Ken’s shoulder, I add, “Thanks so much, Ken,” in a whisper. “Sorry, too. I always seem to be asking you favours.”
He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You know I’m always here for you girls. Besides, I was so bored it was a relief to get out of the office. I’ll just tell the new night editor the story didn’t come off, and I’ll pick up something else tomorrow.”
“More grannies jumping off the pier?” I suggest.
He nods. “Something like that. So . . . can you tell me what happened at the police station? Was Beverly OK and what did they say?
“Yes, she's fine. Ken, I need to meet you tomorrow after work at Brenda’s. I’ve got a really good story for you, but I can’t say anything yet, and you can’t mention it to James or anyone at the paper.” I’m desperate to share my news but to tell Kenny now would be disastrous. I promised Beverly.
“If I don’t know what it is of course I can’t mention it! I’m intrigued, and I might even be able to make a pretty good guess, but I’ll wait to see you tomorrow afternoon.” His grey eyes have a glint of excitement and his grin suggests he has already worked it out.
“Perhaps we can all go out on Saturday night again? Not to see a magician, obviously . . .”
Excitement dampened, he looks a bit shame-faced. “I hate them. Not just magicians — anything to do with the theatre. It just reminds me of being a kid and getting dragged around all those dressing rooms and review halls. My mum and dad practically lived on stage.”
“I didn’t know your parents were actors?” I’m exhausted, but intrigued by this insight into Kenny’s character. Surely it would be pretty cool to have a mum and dad like that. My dad was, and possibly still is, a musician, but since he made a quick escape after I was born, I don’t know if he is cool or not.
“Yeah. They travelled around with a group of other actors. We lived rough half the time, but then they got quite well known, and we got a house down in Brighton. It didn’t last, of course — my parents went off on some tour again down to the West Country. My gran brought me up after that. To be honest it was a relief to be like all the other kids, so I never missed them.”
“Didn’t they come back and see you?” Mary sounds shocked.
“No. I haven’t seen then since I was about twelve. Last I heard they were in Spain with a circus act. Anyway, I’ve got to go, Rubes, so I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
My dad is Spanish. Part of me wants to ask more, but the other part knows it’s over. Let it go, Rubes, I tell myself sternly, as I have done so many times before. Is that one of the reasons I wanted so much to help find Ella? Another child with a father who deserted her, and a mum left in turmoil . . . “Thanks again, Ken.” I smile at him.
I lock the door after he has gone, and Mary makes me a cup of tea.
“You can tell me now. Was it about Ella?” she says softly, so as not to wake the baby.
I explain what happened and she nods like she isn’t surprised. “Aren’t you pleased for her?”
“Of course I am, Rubes! I can’t believe she has her daughter back, and she is safe, but there is something that bothers me about all this. It was too easy. It’s like . . . someone is still controlling what goes on.”
I consider her words. Although I really don’t want to upset her I need to share a few things with my best friend. I thump down onto my bed and curl my feet underneath. Might as well get it all done now.
“Ruby?”
It’s way past time I told her. The words rush out as I explain about Will, how he keeps appearing and bringing gifts, how I can’t see a way of getting rid of him, even though he makes me uncomfortable. Finally I tell her about DS Appleton and his threats.
She says nothing for a while, just watches me carefully, considering my words. Then she crosses over to my bed and sits next to me, hugging me close.
For some reason I can’t stop the tears pouring down my face, and she shushes me like she does Summer, pulling my head onto her shoulder. We stay curled on my bed for what seems like ages, before I look up and meet her kind blue eyes. “Sorry, I’ve soaked your nightdress now!” I manage a weak laugh and she grins at me.
“Ruby, sweetheart, you should have told me earlier! About Will, I mean. I can’t believe he’s still around. I never thought . . .” She trails off, biting her nails. “And this bastard policeman actually mentioned him by name?”
“Yes. I don’t know Will’s surname but I guess it’s Blakely. I told you I think he lies about his work. He has so much money, and I really hope that scarf wasn’t down to a five-finger discount. But what else can I think? I just can’t believe Appleton dared to threaten me when we were actually inside the police station!”
“You’ll have to get hold of Will and warn him. Do you have a telephone number for him?”
I think of the little scrap of paper he passed over at our last meeting, pressing it into my hand, reiterating that I was only to call if I was in danger.
Mary is chewing a thumbnail now. “What about this John Stocker? Will Inspector Hammond go after him, do you think?”
“WPC Stanton will tell him even if DS Appleton says nothing, so I think he will, but if he wouldn’t talk ten years ago, and he is really behind all this, why should he talk now?”
Mary yawns. “Because his wife is dead? I’ve just had a thought, as well. Didn’t you say the Stockers had no children of their own? Maybe they just took someone else’s child and it’s as simple as that.”
“It’s possible, I suppose, but then why Beverly’s child, and why go to all that trouble of setting her up to make it look like Ella had died?”
“I don’t know. My head is hurting, Rubes. I think we need to sleep on it. The main thing is that Ella will be back with her mum very soon, even if she doesn’t recognise her. And we need to get rid of Will, of course, but we’ll think of something.”
When she has settled down I creep over to the windows. The rain is still pouring down, but I sit for a long time, watching the darkness.
* * *
After a long day at work, I meet Kenny as planned at Brenda’s and we take a walk along the promenade.
“So what is it that you wanted to tell me? Please say it’s an ace story, because my editor just got ditched by his fancy piece and he’s in a hell of a mood,” Kenny tells me as we dodge other walkers and a group of children with a ball.
“It’s a perfect story. You need to write it all down.
Let’s stop a minute.” We lean on the railings, staring out to sea.
Finally I start speaking and Kenny scribbles, his notebook balanced on the top rail. He asks questions, gently prompts me when I forget things and finally snaps the book shut.
“So what else has happened that you don’t want in the paper?” he asks.
I smile at him, and explain my theory about Ella, and how it all leads back to the Stockers. I also tell him about DS Appleton’s reaction when I started getting too close to what could be the truth.
Ken covers my hand with his and squeezes my fingers gently, but his eyes are blazing with fury. “That bastard! I can’t believe he dared to do that when the inspector could have come back at any time.” He pauses, then adds lightly, "What else is bothering you?”
“Are you a mind reader now, too?”
“No, I hate all that stuff,” he reminds me, “I just know when you’re upset. Actually, if you really want to know, I’ve been a bit worried about you for weeks now. You’ve been edgy and you keep looking over your shoulder when we’re out, like you’re expecting someone to jump out of a dark corner.”
I sigh. Kenny’s a reporter, but I trust him absolutely. Compared to everything else that is going on, Will is little more than an annoyance, but I tell Ken anyway.
“I had no idea he was still hanging around. Hell, Rubes, you do like your secrets, don’t you! So do you think he might be connected to the Collins case?”
“No. No I don’t, but he’s doing something illegal and this DS Appleton knows it. This could be a way of blackmailing me and keeping me off the Stocker/Collins case.”
“Right.” He offers me a cigarette and I fumble with a match to light it. “I will do this story as Beverly is happy with it. This is an incredible happy ending and everyone will love it. Meanwhile, we’ll decide what to do about everything else. I suppose nobody has mentioned Beach Girl in connection with the Stockers?”
“No. Mary and I are going to take Summer to see her on Friday evening, just to see if she’ll say anything. She did seem to show a bit of emotion when she looked at the baby. Perhaps she has younger siblings? It might be a way of getting through to her.”
“Maybe you should also take Beverly and Ella to visit her?” Kenny says suddenly, stubbing out his cigarette, grey eyes sharp with intelligence.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Just a hunch. Reporters get them sometimes. But Beverly might not be keen.”
I smile at him, “Thanks, Ken.”
“No sweat. Oh, and if you need a lift up there, I can probably squeeze you all into the car. It’s quite a walk, and I’m not working. It might be easier for Ella too — I imagine it's going to be hard for her adjusting to life as Beverly’s daughter.”
For once, exhausted by the events of the previous two days, I fall into a deep sleep as soon as I crawl into bed. Amazingly, Summer sleeps through until five again and Mary is almost in tears of relief.
“I think she’s going to be alright now.”
“I think she is, and you are too,” I tell her seriously, over our morning tea and toast.
I rush out to get the Herald before work and Ken has done a great story, with just the tiniest hint that the story isn’t over yet. The photograph Beverly gave me for him to use is one of the old ones from when Ella was little. It’s a beautiful picture of a happy young mum cuddling her toddler.
For a couple of long, hot days nothing happens. We work hard and baby Summer sleeps well. Mary is slowly recovering from whatever it was that caused her odd mood swings. Good things are happening, but there is a lot we still don’t know. Beverly telephoned to report that she has collected Ella and they are both living at Aunt Sarah’s post office in Rottingdean. She still doesn’t know Beverly as her mum, and she won’t say anything about where she’s been.
She has agreed to a trip over to Alice’s Farm on Monday evening, but seems to have temporarily lost interest in how Ella came back, or where she has been. I can understand that the joy of having her daughter back has overshadowed everything else, but Stocker and Appleton, not to mention Will, are niggling away at the back of my mind. I tried telephoning Inspector Hammond, just to make sure WPC Stanton passed on my message, because Appleton sure as hell won’t have done anything except cover his own tracks. But the inspector was apparently ‘in a meeting,’ so I have no idea whether he is working on the Stocker idea or not.
It makes so much sense that Stocker would have had a policeman in his pocket. Even without the blackmail, he could have manipulated the evidence any way he liked. That jar of jigsaw pieces is nearly full, I can tell. I just need the last few pieces before I can put together the complete picture.
When Kenny calls after lunch to suggest an impromptu night out, I accept with enthusiasm. He adds, “So it's happy families for Miss Collins now? I don’t suppose Ella has started talking yet?”
“No,” I sigh. “Maybe she won’t and we’ll just never know where she’s been.”
“Boring. Anyway, I was actually calling to see if you wanted to come out tonight, not to catch up on your investigation. James and I are going to the new coffee bar on Middle Street. There’s a party afterwards too.”
“I’d love to. Can I just check Mary is OK with that and call you right back?”
I cup my hand over the receiver. Mary is coming out of the backroom laden with towels and I take a deep breath. Surprisingly, Mary agrees I should go out.
“I’ll be fine, honestly, and Summer is being so much easier now. I might even put her down a bit early and catch up on some reading.”
I smile fondly at her. Encouraged by Eve, Mary has started taking books out of the library now she has discovered where it is, and has great piles of romance, history, and horror stories stacked by her bed. Now when the baby cries and she can’t soothe her, the idea is that Mary should put her back in her crib and read a book just outside the door. Catherine says she did the same with her youngest because he used to drive her mad screaming all night. I could almost hear Mary sigh with relief at that particular admission.
Turning back to the phone I tell Kenny I’ll meet him at seven at the new bar.
“Great. The bar’s called Smuggler’s Kiss, and it’s right at the top end. It’ll be me and James, Ted I think, and maybe Victoria.”
“I thought she and Pearl were deep in exams at the moment.”
“They are, and Pearl has vanished until they are finished, but Victoria only lasted a week. Now she says she needs to get some fun in between her exams or she won’t pass!” Kenny is laughing.
Catherine finishes her cut and follows me out to make the tea. The charts in the backroom are still covering one whole wall. But with numerous complex diagrams leading to everyone we know who is connected to the case it looks more like a tangled ball of wool than anything we could use to find a kidnapper.
“What are you going to do now? I suppose as Ella is found you can close the case,” Catherine says, getting the bottle of milk and adding sugar to three cups.
“Are you ladies going to do any work today or have you turned my salon into HQ again? Customers in five minutes and I’ve got three brides in, one after the other before we close,” Johnnie calls back.
“Three? You never have.”
“I do, I’m afraid. That big salon in Hove, I can’t think what it’s called, but apparently they had a water leak and the place is flooded, so everyone is coming here instead.”
“Johnnie, you are such a hero to help out!” Catherine says sarcastically. “Seriously, though, that is going to be a bit of a stretch.”
“With you fabulous people on the case, I’m sure we can manage.” Johnnie smiles serenely. “I also found time to do the final paperwork for our two genius apprentices. This is your last couple of months as moonlighters. As of the fifteenth of October, you two start working properly!”
“Thanks Johnnie!” I’m pleased to be starting off on getting proper qualifications and I do love working in a salon. If I’m honest, it’s more
than the gossip and that I can run investigations out of the back room, I just can’t see myself doing anything else. I feel settled here, and Johnnie is the best employer ever. He rents us our bedsit for free, lets Mary have time off for the baby and joins in with murder investigations and ten-year-old kidnappings.
Mary starts shampooing as another couple of clients come in, and I drag out the boxes of nail varnish for our brides to choose from. Catherine is quickly setting out trays of combs and hair pins and straightening the chairs. Today’s copy of the Brighton Herald lies open on the little table next to the window, and I glance at the inky columns as I straighten the magazines.
A small piece of text, heavily outlined and slightly blurred, catches my eye.
EVA AND HECTOR TO PERFORM AT OPENING OF THE SMUGGLER’S KISS
Brighton favourites, magician Hector Alonso and his assistant Eva will be performing an act at the opening of new coffee bar, The Smuggler’s Kiss. Owner, Mr Jon Hayward says, “We are delighted that such a successful and well-known act is coming to the launch of our new business.”
Well, that won’t please Kenny, I think, feeling a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I’m surprised he wants to go, but I wouldn’t mind catching up with Hector and Eva myself . . .
Chapter Twenty-One
The evening is hot and muggy and I pull on a short blue dress, and add my favourite ballet flats. As usual I spend ages smudging black lines around my eyes, and add a pale pink lipstick before frowning at my reflection.
“You look lovely!” Mary says encouragingly. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Ted called at the salon. He can’t make it tonight, but he did say he would just have time to pop in and see Summer and I before he goes to work. He’s driving to Rye with a load for the morning markets, and he wants to get the extra money because he’s saving for a flat.”
“Oh, I thought Kenny said Ted might be out tonight?”
“He was going to, but he said that he didn’t really feel like it, and then this job came up. He’s still really suffering after Linda, you know, Rubes,” Mary says seriously.
