Missing Person

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Missing Person Page 17

by Mary Jane Staples


  ‘Are you ready to go now, Maisie?’ he asked when the buttered toast was no more and the pot empty.

  ‘If you don’t mind, Edwin, I’ll just go to the Ladies’ first.’

  ‘I’ll settle the bill and then wait for you outside, by the car,’ he said.

  But when she reached the car several minutes later, he wasn’t there. She looked around. There were other parked cars, one with its bonnet up and a tall man in tweeds tinkering with its works. But there was no sign of Edwin. He must have gone to the Men’s, she thought. So she waited. Five minutes went by, and as he still hadn’t appeared she went back into the hotel and to the restaurant, thinking he had perhaps forgotten he was to meet her outside. He was probably still sitting at the table. But he wasn’t, he was nowhere in the restaurant. She went outside and back to the car again. But he was still missing. A little worried and a little confused, Chinese Lady approached the gentleman who was still tinkering with his car. She asked him if he had seen her husband. She described Edwin and how he was dressed.

  ‘So sorry, but no, I don’t think I have seen him,’ said the gentleman. ‘All I have seen out here was a car driving out as I drove in ten minutes ago.’

  ‘Oh, that wouldn’t of been anything to do with my husband,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘That’s our motorcar over there.’

  ‘When I arrived, my plugs were spluttering,’ said the gentleman, ‘and I’ve been out here cleaning the points since then. Apart from that car which passed me as I drove in, I’ve noticed nothing else. Certainly, I’m sure I haven’t seen your husband. But he must be around somewhere. Why not ask the receptionist? She’s very helpful. I’m staying here a few days myself.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll do that, I’ll ask her,’ said Chinese Lady, and carried herself briskly back into the hotel again. There she asked the receptionist, an attractive and friendly young lady, if she had seen her husband. Again she described him.

  ‘You’re not residents here, madam?’

  ‘No, we just came in for a pot of tea and some buttered toast, which was very nice.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember now, you came in about an hour ago,’ said the young lady. ‘Your husband left about thirteen or fourteen minutes ago, and you followed several minutes later, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I went to the Ladies’ first,’ said Chinese Lady, experiencing the first pangs of real worry.

  ‘Perhaps he’s gone round to the terrace at the back of the hotel, madam. From there, the views are lovely.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll go and look,’ said Chinese Lady.

  ‘I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, madam.’

  ‘He’d better be, I wouldn’t like to think I’d lost him,’ said Chinese Lady, making a brave attempt to lighten the moment.

  At four-twenty, someone knocked on the door of Boots’s office in Camberwell.

  ‘Come in,’ he said. He was signing letters.

  In came Rosie and Polly, Rosie in her gymslip and school hat, Polly in the kind of plain costume suitable for a schoolteacher, although it took little of her vivacious air away.

  ‘Hello, Daddy, are we interrupting?’ asked Rosie.

  ‘Oh, I don’t count the entry of light into the darkness of heavy labour an interruption,’ said Boots.

  ‘Crikey, listen to you,’ said Rosie. ‘Did you hear him, Miss Simms?’

  It was always Miss Simms during the hours when the relationship was that of teacher and pupil. ‘Can he really mean we’re the light in his darkness, or does he say that to all the girls?’

  ‘Oh, I think he’s just showing off, Rosie,’ said Polly. ‘It’s his age.’

  ‘Poor old thing,’ said Rosie. ‘Daddy, Miss Simms—’

  ‘Polly?’ said Boots.

  ‘Oh, all right, Aunt Polly,’ said Rosie. ‘She gave me a lift from school in her car, and would have treated Annabelle too, only Annabelle went home early with a bad cold. Anyway, we stopped here to ask if she could take me to her home for tea, and supper later on. She’ll drive me home afterwards. Is that all right?’

  ‘I can’t think of anything against it,’ said Boots.

  ‘Well, bless your Sunday cricket belt,’ said Rosie.

  ‘And thanks for the loan of Rosie, old sport,’ said Polly.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Boots, always in control of the vibrations that were present in his relationship with Polly. ‘Pop off, then.’

  ‘Heavens,’ murmured Polly, ‘now we’re a couple of corks, Rosie.’

  Boots’s phone rang. He picked it up.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mr Adams,’ said the switchboard girl, ‘it’s your mother.’

  ‘Put her through,’ said Boots. Polly and Rosie stood by. ‘Hello, old lady, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Is that you, Boots?’ Chinese Lady sounded uncertain. A telephone was something else she didn’t trust.

  ‘Yes, it’s me.’

  ‘Is Sammy there with his motorcar?’ asked Chinese Lady, speaking from the residents’ phone in the hotel lobby.

  ‘No, he’s out,’ said Boots.

  ‘Then you’ll ’ave to go home and get your own, then,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘and you’ll ’ave to come without Sammy.’ The dropping of aitches meant agitation was close to the surface, for she rarely dropped any these days. ‘I want you to drive down here. I’m at the Hog’s Back Hotel, near Farnham, and your dad’s gone missin’.’

  ‘Edwin? He’s what?’ said Boots.

  ‘He’s gone and disappeared, that’s what,’ said Chinese Lady, resolutely trying to keep agitation from breaking out. ‘We had tea here, then he was supposed to wait outside for me, at our motorcar. But I just can’t find him anywhere, so I want you to come down and look for him. I can’t come home without ’im.’

  ‘Listen, old lady,’ said Boots, ‘are you sure you know what you’re saying?’

  Rosie quickened at the odd look on his face, and Polly experienced intense curiosity.

  ‘Of course I know what I’m saying,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘Edwin’s gone missin’. I’ve spent over half an hour lookin’ for him. Our motorcar’s still here, but he’s not.’

  ‘Could he be somewhere in the hotel?’ asked Boots.

  ‘No, they’ve looked. Boots, I’m worried. You’ll have to drive down here and be quick.’

  ‘Right, I’ll do that,’ said Boots, ‘and be with you as soon as I can. I hope he’ll turn up before I get there. Try to take it easy.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do a dance round the hotel,’ said Chinese Lady tartly.

  ‘Chin up, old lady,’ said Boots, and rang off.

  ‘Daddy, what’s up?’ asked Rosie, and Boots briefly explained. Rosie’s eyes opened wide, and Polly looked astonished. But she made a typical offer of help.

  ‘I’ll drive you there, Boots,’ she said. ‘My tin can’s outside, and it’ll save you going all the way home for yours.’

  ‘Yes, we needn’t waste any time, Daddy,’ said Rosie. ‘I’ll come as well, and we can all look for Grandpa.’

  ‘My time’s my own, if I could just ring my step-mama,’ said Polly, which she did, while Boots used the extension in Sammy’s office and the second line through the switchboard to call Emily. Emily, of course, found his brief account of his conversation with Chinese Lady too far-fetched to be taken seriously.

  ‘Boots, are you playin’ silly devils?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ said Boots, ‘and you can take it from me that Chinese Lady isn’t, either. I’m going now.’

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ said Emily, ‘you really are serious.’

  ‘Polly’s here with Rosie, and we’re using her car so that we can leave straightaway.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that kind of her?’ said Emily, who didn’t trust Polly any farther than the end of her nose.

  ‘Can’t stop, Em, see you later.’

  ‘I just can’t believe – Boots? Boots?’ But he’d hung up, leaving her doubtful that Mr Finch could really have gone missing. Nor was she too happy about Polly playing a leading part in
the dash to the hotel.

  Polly was only too willing to commit herself. Boots might have suggested that Rosie went home, but he knew Emily would prefer him not to make the journey with Polly alone. As for Rosie, she was set on going. She would always rather be with her adoptive father than anyone else, much as she loved Emily.

  Polly’s open sports car, in which she drove to school daily, stood outside the offices, its leather seats warmed by the afternoon sunshine.

  ‘I’ll drive,’ said Boots.

  ‘Look, old thing,’ said Polly, ‘you’re a worried man—’

  ‘I’ll drive.’

  ‘If you want,’ she said, and thought what weaklings women could be when in love. She was quite certain she was the equal of any man alive, but there it was, the weakness that made her play second fiddle to Boots. She slid smoothly into the passenger seat, and Rosie quickly established herself in the back of the car. Boots, in the driving seat, accepted the keys from Polly. He pushed in the ignition key, switched on and pulled the self-starter. The lively engine fired. With the car facing the rise of Denmark Hill, he took a look over his shoulder at traffic coming up from Camberwell Green, then drove off in low gear and put himself in front of it. He was in third as he passed the entrance to Ruskin Park.

  Rosie, her school satchel on the seat beside her, said, ‘Go, Daddy, go, Nana needs us.’

  ‘He’s going, Rosie,’ said Polly. Boots was racing up the gentle rise, the engine growling before settling into a busy hum. He estimated it would take him an hour and a half to reach the Hog’s Back if they weren’t held up by too many lumbering lorries. He headed for Streatham, Sutton and Guildford. The slipstream tugged at Polly’s hat and gusted around Rosie’s face. Boots overtook slow traffic at speed, the while thinking about Edwin Finch. He was the only one in the family who knew that his stepfather had been a German agent and was now a naturalized British subject, invaluable to British Intelligence. But he was not the kind of man to let his secrets or his work affect him to the point of forgetting who he was. Boots rejected the idea that he had walked out on Chinese Lady to wander about in a mental fog. Some people, unable to cope with certain worries, developed – what was it? Yes, amnesia, a condition that helped them forget their troubles and their own identity. But that did not fit a man like Edwin Finch. He was far too cool a character.

  The tailboard of a lorry seemed to be rushing back at the speeding car as they were passing Brockwell Park. Boots pulled out on to the tramlines, and Polly and Rosie held on to their seats as he raced to overtake. An oncoming tram clanged in angry warning. Boots squeezed the car through the narrowing gap and shot ahead of the lorry.

  ‘Breezy,’ said Rosie.

  ‘If it’s going to be like this all the way, I think I’ll get out and walk,’ said Polly, but she knew she’d have accepted similar challenges herself in order to make good time.

  ‘Daddy, you don’t think Grandpa could have really disappeared, do you?’ said Rosie.

  ‘We’ll find out the facts when we get there, poppet,’ said Boots, ‘and let’s concentrate on getting there, shall we?’

  ‘Yes, all right, Daddy, not much talking, then,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Look after my hat, would you?’ said Boots, and took it off and tossed it to her. She put it next to her satchel, and Boots drove with the wind making its assaults on his hair. Polly glanced at his profile. For all his easy-going air, he was not without a touch of steel. The war would have put that there. It had permanently shattered the nerves of some men. It seemed to have made Boots a man of very few nerves. All the same, he was obviously affected by the apparent disappearance of his stepfather. A little frown kept showing itself as he motored to eat up the miles. He took a pipe out of the breast pocket of his jacket and stuck it between his teeth to chew on it. It reminded Polly of the estaminets of France and Flanders, places full of Tommies in the evenings, Tommies out of the line and resting, either a fag or a pipe between their lips, creating blue fug while they told earthy anecdotes that brought forth roars of laughter.

  Boots went through Streatham in fits and starts because of traffic. When clear of it, he raced for Sutton.

  ‘All right, you two?’ he asked, taking his pipe out.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ said Rosie.

  ‘And I’m still living,’ said Polly.

  ‘Compliments to both of you,’ said Boots, and back went the pipe.

  They were on the route taken by Mr Finch and were tangling with home-going traffic, buses and cars. Rosie and Polly said very little. Well, under the circumstances, small talk was out of place. Thoughts were on Chinese Lady and her vanished husband.

  Chapter Fourteen

  SAMMY WAS BACK at his desk, studying details of a new business proposition. Gwen Fuller from the general office, a homely-looking but quite engaging girl, knocked on his door.

  ‘Come right in,’ called Sammy.

  Gwen, entering, said, ‘Mister Sammy, Mrs Em’ly Adams wants you to phone ’er.’

  ‘Can’t be me fatal charm, seein’ she’s me sister-in-law,’ said Sammy.

  ‘No, she didn’t say anything about your fatal charm, Mister Sammy, she just asked if you’d phone ’er as soon as you came in.’

  ‘She wants to speak to me and not her better half, my respected brother?’ said Sammy.

  ‘Oh, your respected brother left in a hurry over half an hour ago,’ said Gwen.

  ‘In a hurry?’

  ‘Yes, with ’is daughter Rosie and that posh lady, Miss Simms. He didn’t say what he was in a hurry about.’

  ‘All right, fair do’s, Gwen, tell Nancy to make the call for me.’ Nancy Griggs, who operated the switchboard, had been taken on following the departure of Doreen Paterson. Doreen had left to get herself married to her young man, Luke Edwards.

  The call to Emily was put through.

  ‘You wanted to talk to me, Em’ly?’ said Sammy. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I wish I knew, but I’m all confused,’ said Emily. ‘Boots rang me about forty minutes ago with some story that Mr Finch ’ad gone missin’.’

  ‘Come again?’ said Sammy, and Emily recounted what Boots had told her. Emily knew that her in-laws had gone out for the day, and according to Boots they had stopped to have tea at the Hog’s Back Hotel on their way home. Chinese Lady phoned Boots from the hotel and insisted that Mr Finch had disappeared while she was in the ladies’ cloakroom, after they’d finished tea. She’d asked Boots to drive to the hotel and find her husband for her. ‘Sammy, can you believe that? It makes me feel I’m dreamin’, and I wanted to ask if you know anything about it.’

  ‘I’ve only heard from Gwen that Boots left here in a hurry over half an hour ago,’ said Sammy, ‘and that Polly Simms and Rosie went with him.’

  ‘Yes, they’re usin’ her car.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Sammy. ‘You’re tellin’ me Boots rang you to say Chinese Lady asked him to drive down to the Hog’s Back Hotel because our stepdad’s disappeared?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ said Emily, ‘and it’s not believable, is it? I’ve got a headache comin’ on.’

  ‘I’ll have one meself, if it’s true,’ said Sammy. ‘Did you phone the hotel?’

  ‘Oh, blow, no, I didn’t,’ said Emily. ‘I should ’ave, but I’m not thinkin’ straight.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Sammy. ‘Polly’s drivin’ Boots and Rosie in her car, you said?’

  ‘Boots said to save him comin’ home to use his own.’ Slightly acid, Emily added, ‘Polly just happened to be in the office with Rosie. Very convenient, I must say. ‘I’m here at home with Tim, waitin’.’

  ‘I’ll phone the hotel and see if I can speak to Chinese Lady,’ said Sammy. ‘Then I’ll call you back. Till then, make yourself a cup of tea.’

  ‘Not much else I can do,’ said Emily, and rang off. Sammy got through to the switchboard and asked Nancy to ring the operator and find out the number of the Hog’s Back Hotel.

  ‘Oxback, Mister Sammy? I neve
r ’eard of any hotel callin’ itself that.’

  ‘Hog’s Back,’ said Sammy, ‘Hog’s Back. It’s near Farnham. Then ring them for me.’

  ‘Very good, Mister Sammy. Hog’s Back. What a funny name.’

  A few minutes later, Sammy was put through.

  ‘Hello, reception desk, Hog’s Back Hotel. May I help you?’

  ‘Hope so,’ said Sammy. ‘I’d like to speak to Mrs Finch, if she’s there.’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir, she’s here,’ said the receptionist, Miss Penny Jordan.

  ‘I’m her son. I understand that her husband, my stepdad, seems to have disappeared. Am I understandin’ correctly?’

  ‘It seems so, sir. We’re doing what we can for her while waiting for you to arrive.’

  ‘That’s my brother, Mr Robert Adams. I think he’s well on his way by now. D’you think I could have a word with my mother?’

  ‘Of course, sir. I’ll get the porter to fetch her. I think she’s outside. Hold on a moment, please.’

  Sammy waited until Chinese Lady came on the line.

  ‘Hello?’ she said suspiciously. It wasn’t natural to her, a contraption that didn’t allow a body to see the person she was talking to.

  ‘Sammy here, Ma. I’m phonin’ about Dad. He’s disappeared, I hear, and you’re a worried woman.’

  ‘Well, Sammy, you don’t expect me to be jumpin’ for joy, do you? I just can’t make out what’s ’appened, Edwin goin’ missin’ like this. It’s been well over an hour now. He was supposed to meet me at our motorcar after we’d had tea here, but he wasn’t there and there’s still no sign of him. I don’t know how many times I’ve been outside to look for him. Something must of happened, because it’s not like him to go off without saying a word. What about Boots, where is he?’

  ‘On his way, Ma. He shouldn’t be too long. Look, have the hotel staff made a search for Dad?’

  ‘Yes, they’ve been very kind and ’elpful,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘they’ve searched everywhere, but there just isn’t any sign of Edwin. I’m very upset, Sammy.’

 

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