Changing Patterns

by Judith Barrow

  She shook her head.

  ‘Right. Well then, how about we get out of here and I buy you some chips, eh?’

  She nodded slowly.

  ‘But you have to do something for me as well.’

  She took in a quivering breath.

  ‘I mean it. Understand?’

  She moved her head again. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Right. You have to promise you’ll keep your mouth shut. You won’t tell anybody where you’ve been.’ He stopped, waiting to see if she said anything. She didn’t.

  Congratulating himself that he might be able to get out of this mess, he carried on, ‘I want you to pretend you got lost. You went exploring and you got lost. Okay?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Yes.’ Linda drew her knees close to her chest and put her arms around them.

  ‘Right.’ He had to make sure she’d stick to what she said. He squatted down.

  ‘Because if you don’t, I’ll have to come and get you again. Understand?’ He shuffled nearer. ‘And don’t forget your mummy was cross with you for running off.’ He reached out to touch her cheek. ‘If you tell her you got lost, she won’t be mad anymore.’

  She grabbed his fingers and bit him.

  He yelled, yanking his hand away, falling backwards.

  On her hands and knees she scrambled past him.

  ‘Bitch.’ He was breathing heavily.

  She was at the door.

  He flung himself across the floor, grabbed her ankle.

  She yelled, kicked out at him.

  Pain shot through his jaw. ‘Bitch.’

  He twisted over onto his stomach, grasped her other ankle and tugged.

  She fell.

  He heard the crack of bone on the stone flags. And then silence. ‘Kid?’ He still had hold of her ankles. He gave one of them a shake. ‘Come on, kid.’ No answer. The girl was pretending. She had to be pretending. He couldn’t see enough in the shadows behind the door. Fear churned inside his guts. He crawled alongside her, feeling for her face, her mouth. She wasn’t breathing. ‘Oh God, no, please, no.’ He felt for the pulse in her neck, an almost forgotten automatic gesture from the first aid training he’d done in the Fire Brigade years ago, before he was kicked out. He couldn’t tell if there was any movement but when he took his hand away it was sticky. Blood, oh God, it was blood.

  He had to get away. He should never have come back to Ashford. He ran blindly, bouncing off the walls, until he was stumbling down the steps into the fresh air.

  He stopped once to look back towards the old hospital before plunging headfirst into the culvert.

  Chapter 73

  ‘Ted.’ Starlings, squabbling over breadcrumbs behind the bakery, scattered when Ellen burst into the yard. ‘Ted!’

  The shed door was open, bits of coke spilled over the wooden barrier inside and Archie, the man Ted employed, was washing down the yard. The black liquid left its mark on the flags as it streamed towards the grid in the middle. Oblivious to the mess, Ellen splashed through it as Ted appeared at the door.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Linda’s missing.’ Ellen sobbed, gasping for air, her hands on her knees. A mop and bucket, stinking of ammonia, was on the doorstep. The smell stung Ellen’s nose and made it run, mucus mixed with the tears.

  Ted pulled his white apron over his head, his cap falling to the flagged floor. ‘What do you mean, she’s missing?’

  ‘She’s missing.’ Doubled over, Ellen saw his boots, dusty with flour, in front of her and a rage erupted. One hand still on her knee, she lashed upwards, swinging wildly. Her fist connected with the side of his head.

  Stunned, he rocked on his feet. ‘Ellen!’

  Straightening up she drew back and hit out again. She knew, she hoped, it would hurt. She couldn’t stop. ‘Your fault.’ The words came out at first as a low growl. The harder, the faster, she thumped, the louder the words until it was a howl. ‘Your fault.’

  At first Ted tried to catch hold of her then dropped his arms to his sides and waited.

  Eventually she stilled.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry, I should have been with you.’

  ‘No.’ Ellen fell against him. She knew she was to blame. ‘It’s all my fault.’

  ‘Tell me exactly what’s happened, love?’

  ‘At the band contest,’ Ellen whispered, ‘one minute she was there, the next she’d gone. Oh God!’

  Why lie? Why not tell him she was with Jean in the backyard of the pub? Because you never stand on your own two feet, she told herself bitterly; because you always expect someone else to pick up the pieces of whatever mess you get yourself in.

  ‘She can’t have gone far.’ Ted pulled off his large cotton gloves and threw them onto the curved metal bars of the oven. ‘You know our Linda, she’s a dreamer, she’ll have wandered off.’

  ‘So many people, Ted. Strangers.’

  ‘It’s all right, we’ll find her.’ Kicking off his plimsolls Ted overbalanced, his flailing hand hit a shelf. Rolling pins and stacked pie trays clattered to the floor. ‘Archie! Get in here!’

  Archie was already peering around the door, fear and uncertainty on his normally placid face. ‘Boss?’

  Ted shoved his feet into his outdoor shoes. He thrust the keys at the man. ‘Lock up.’

  ‘Go in, see if she’s home.’ Ted waited by the back gate.

  In a few seconds Ellen came back to the back door, holding onto the frame, her face whiter than ever. ‘She’s not here. I’ve been upstairs. Mary hasn’t seen her.’

  Mary appeared behind her, hand over her mouth, eyes wide. ‘She’s not been here.’

  ‘She’s probably just wandered off and got lost.’ He spoke loudly and slowly to Ellen, as though to a child. ‘Stay with Mary. I’ll round some of the neighbours up and we’ll go and look for her.’

  ‘No, I’m coming with you.’ Ellen shoved her arms into a cardigan. ‘You’ll keep an eye on William?’ she said to Mary. ‘Stay here, in case she comes home?’

  ‘Course I will.’

  ‘I’m better off on my own, love.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ Ellen was holding on to Mary and hopping on one leg, changing from her high-heeled shoes to a flat pair. ‘I can run as fast as you.’

  She didn’t wait for a reply. After a quick hug from Mary she crossed the yard. ‘I can’t stay here, Ted, I have to do something.’ Pushing past him she ran along the alleyway.

  Crashing through the last gate at the end of the row, Ted shouted, ‘Bert? Bert?’ A man appeared at the back door, smoking a pipe. ‘Our Linda’s gone missing, round some of the blokes up, ask them to look around, will you?’ Ellen watched the man grab his jacket from behind the door. Then she and Ted spun on their heels. Swinging around the corner of the end house they stopped, looking both ways along Shaw Street.

  ‘Which way?’ Ellen said. ‘We’ve already looked all along Shaw Street and Huddersfield Road.’ She didn’t know where to look for her daughter but it was important to be moving, to be going somewhere.

  ‘The park?’ Ted took a few hesitant steps along the pavement and then lengthened his strides. Ellen followed. That’s where she and Jean should have looked in the first place. They paid no attention to the few cars that passed or the groups of revellers catcalling and laughing. Ellen forced herself to go faster, to keep up with Ted’s limping run.

  Outside Skirm Park they stopped. It was closed. Ellen leaned against the gates, straining to take in air. Ted sank to his knees, his head slumped between his shoulders.

  ‘What are we going to do, Ted? What if something’s happened to her?’

  ‘It won’t have.’

  ‘I couldn’t bear it if—’

  ‘We’ll find her. And she’ll be safe.’ His face was unreadable. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a leg up.’

  They struggled over the gates and slid down the other side. The path was arched by trees. They walked, listening all the time but
the only sounds were the hushed giggle of lovers hidden by the bushes, the grumbling squawk of nesting birds, and the rustle of leaves in the light breeze.

  ‘Linda!’ Ellen turned in a circle, shouting her name. ‘Linda…’

  She’d never been so afraid.

  Chapter 74

  ‘Linda’s missing!’ Jean burst into the kitchen, dragging a weeping Jacqueline behind her.

  ‘What?’ Startled, Patrick threw his newspaper onto the floor and jumped up from his chair. ‘What’s wrong with Jacqueline? Why is she crying?’

  ‘It’s Linda, we can’t find her,’ she shrieked at him, furious he just stood there and didn’t listen.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Patrick picked Jacqueline up. ‘You okay, love?’

  ‘She’s fine. Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Dear God, she’d hit him in a minute. ‘It’s Linda who’s missing.’

  ‘Where were you? When she went missing?’

  ‘Does that matter?’ Jean screamed, pushing her face into his. ‘Just for once, in these last six months, try concentrating on your family – instead of that.’ She flung an arm towards the ceiling.

  ‘Whoa!’ Patrick reddened in anger. ‘Back off. Just where were you and Ellen when she went missing?’ he repeated.

  Jean suddenly calmed. Breathing heavily she didn’t speak.

  ‘Pub?’ he said sarcastically.

  Jacqueline buried her face into her father’s shoulder.

  ‘Where was your cousin when you last saw her, sweetheart?’ Patrick held Jacqueline’s chin, made her look at him. ‘Did she say she was going somewhere? Did she say anything at all?’

  She should tell them it was her fault, that she’d seen Shirley and Anne Taylor skipping and she hadn’t waited for Linda coming back from the chippy. ‘No,’ she gulped. ‘She ran off and left me.’

  ‘Right. I’ll go and see what’s happening. Get Jack dressed and get the three of you to Henshaw Street.’

  Then he’d gone.

  Jacqueline clutched hold of Jean’s skirt. Her face was red, screwed up with the effort of not crying, not showing how frightened she was.

  Jean forced a smile. ‘Tell you what we’ll do. We’ll get Jack dressed, like Dad said … you’ll help me, won’t you?’ Jacqueline sniffed and wiped her nose with the heel of her hand, but she nodded. ‘Then we’ll all go to Linda’s house and I’ll bet, by the time we arrive, she’ll be there, waiting to tell you all about her adventures.’

  Chapter 75

  ‘Bloody hell man. Look at the state of you.’ Arthur Brown slurred his words. He’d not long been back from the Crown. George was waiting in the shadows of the backyard when he arrived home.

  ‘Been in a bit of a scrap, that’s all.’ George was sweating, his heart thumping. What in God’s name was he going to do now? Stupid kid. What a sodding mess. He wished to God he hadn’t seen the kid outside the allotments, that he hadn’t had the stupid idea of taking her to give Howarth a fucking fright. He pushed his way into the house.

  ‘Hey, hey!’ Arthur held his hands up and backed off. ‘Steady on. What’s happened?’

  ‘Told you.’ George held onto the chair to stop himself from falling. His legs shook so much his whole body trembled. ‘Been in a fight.’ He tried the usual joke. ‘You should see the other bugger.’ But the rasp in his voice gave him away.

  ‘You in trouble? I want no trouble.’

  George cursed. ‘All I want is a bit of a wash.’

  ‘You’ll need more than that. Just look at your togs.’

  ‘Okay then, a bath – and I’ll wash my clothes in the water once I’ve done.’

  ‘Well, I’ll have to put the Ascot on. I’ve used up all the hot water for today.’ Arthur paused, looked expectantly at him. ‘Difficult managing on the pittance I have coming in, you know.’ He stood back to let George in. ‘And this bloody National Grid thing is a bloody con – state-bloody-owned, my arse,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s us poor bloody suckers who cop it – price of gas. Festival of Britain? It’s a bloody joke.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ George cut him off. Once Arthur started there was no stopping him and he’d had more than enough. He pulled some coins out of his trouser pocket. ‘This do it?’

  *

  George sat in front of the fire, a tin bath full of cold scummy water nearby; his clothes steamed over the back of a chair to one side of the hearth. He tilted the glass of beer and took a long swallow and belched loudly.

  ‘I missed the contest later on.’ He held out his glass. ‘Who won in the end?’

  ‘West Riding Home Guard Band, I think.’

  ‘How come you missed it?’

  ‘Had to see somebody.’

  ‘Who?’

  George lifted his shoulders.

  ‘Another?’ Arthur poured the beer from a jug into a glass. ‘That’ll be a shilling you owe me now,’ he reminded George, ‘besides that bob for the ciggies you’ve borrowed.’

  ‘Okay, you tight bugger.’

  ‘Hey, I forgot.’ Arthur straightened in his chair. ‘You missed all the excitement earlier.’

  ‘What?’ George took a swig of beer. He tried to block out the man’s voice.

  ‘Ted Booth’s kid’s missing.’

  George’s stomach jerked. ‘Ted Booth’s kid?’

  ‘Aye.’ Arthur looked puzzled. ‘Called Linda … summat like that.’

  Fucking hell! George felt the shudder run along his skin. He’d taken the wrong girl.

  ‘Well, I say Ted Booth’s kid. He took her on, like adopted her or summat. You must know that, you being you?’

  George stared. ‘What d’you mean, me being me?’

  ‘The girl that’s been took. Well you know, it’s her … that kid…’ Arthur spoke slowly.

  ‘Haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about,’ George interrupted.

  ‘She were that younger sister’s by-blow.’

  George tapped out an impatient rhythm with his foot. ‘If you don’t tell me what you mean I’ll sodding thump you.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ Arthur was enjoying himself. ‘One time, when she’d had a few, Winnie told me that her youngest … that Ellen what’s married to Ted Booth … once had a bit of a fling with your brother. And Winnie told me that the kid she was ’aving was your Frank’s. You must ’ave known that. So that means…’ Arthur paused for the greatest effect and then said triumphantly, ‘That means the kid’s your niece.’

  Chapter 76

  ‘Mary, come back inside, it’s pitch black out there.’

  ‘I can’t breathe.’ Mary stood on the back doorstep. These days it felt as though her lungs were being squashed upwards by her stomach. She turned her face up as the rain started; fat slow drops at first and then faster until they hurt as they hit her face, plastering her hair to her scalp, her dress to her heavy body. For a few minutes she revelled in it, the sensation on her hot skin almost stilling the dreadful fear that had engulfed her from the moment Ellen had burst through the door. Then it came back in a wave of anguish. ‘Do you think she’s out in this? Do you think she’s hiding, frightened in the dark?’ Her voice caught in her throat. ‘She hates the dark, Jean.’

  ‘I think you’ll catch your death out there.’ Jean pulled her back into the kitchen. ‘And it’s helping nothing and nobody, you getting in a state.’ She spoke briskly, hiding her own anxiety and self-reproach. ‘Here, dry yourself off.’ She handed Mary a towel. ‘Go and get into your nightie and dressing gown. We’ll have a brew. And try not to wake the children. I’ve put them all into the one bed in Ellen and Ted’s room for now.’

  Mary dragged herself upstairs. She was sure they got steeper every day. Her calves ached. She tried to ignore the nagging pain in her groin. On the landing she stopped to get her breath and looked across into the bedroom, watching the sleeping children. Three where there should be four, she thought, a lump in her throat. Jacqueline had both arms around the two boys. William had his thumb in his mouth, his curled for
efinger pressed against his nose. Jack was on his back, his mouth slightly open. But there was something wrong. She took a step towards the bed. Jacqueline was very still but her eyelids flickered.

  ‘Jacqueline,’ Mary whispered, ‘are you awake, love?’

  There was no reply but her mouth turned downwards. Suddenly her chest heaved and she sat up. The two babies rolled together to the middle of the bed behind her as she held out her arms to Mary.

  ‘Auntie Mary, it’s my fault Linda’s gone,’ she wailed. ‘I should have gone to the chippie but I was cross ’cos I didn’t have any pennies left. If I hadn’t bought that ice cream, I would have had enough for chips.’

  ‘Shush love, come here.’ Mary reached over and lifted Jacqueline from the bed. She felt the pull on her stomach as the sturdy little arms clung around her. ‘Come on, come with me while I get changed.’

  ‘Sit there on my bed,’ she said, after they’d crossed the landing, stepping out of her dress and reaching for her dressing gown. ‘Now…’ She sat next to her niece. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘None of this is your fault,’ Mary said, when Jacqueline had sobbed out her story, ‘and Linda will be back before we know it. Now, I want you to close your eyes, it’s been a long day. You can sleep with me tonight, if that’s what you’d like?’ Jacqueline nodded, her face blotched with crying.

  It didn’t take long. Mary lay alongside her, stroking the little girl’s hair until her breathing became slow and steady. Despite her words, the thought of Linda out there, alone, filled Mary with dread. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. Come back to us, sweetheart, she thought. Dear God let her be safe, don’t let anything happen to her.

  ‘Mary? What are you doing?’ Jean stood by the bed, her outline against the landing light. ‘I thought you were coming downstairs. I’ve been waiting.’ She clasped and unclasped her hands. ‘What’s Jacqueline doing in here?’