by Polly Heron
Vivienne’s eyes brimmed. ‘I know. I’m the same. I may have had far longer to think about it, but now that it’s actually happening, it seems that having spent ages thinking about it is no preparation for the real thing. We need to sleep on it.’
‘Sleep? I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink.’
‘Let’s give ourselves time to see what happens, to get to know one another, to ask questions.’ Vivienne pressed her lips together. ‘I noticed you said nothing about my father – my real father.’
‘No, I didn’t. And I won’t. Please don’t press me on the subject.’ Most of what was going to keep her awake tonight was going to be to do with him. What a mess it had been.
‘Very well. I’ll make myself be satisfied with knowing about my real mother.’
‘I’d like to hear more of your parents. I assume they moved away from Loch Lomond. You have an English accent. Are you going to tell your father you’ve met me?’
‘I’ll visit him. He’s in the Brighton hotel now.’
‘He may well not want you to live under my roof.’
‘We’ll see. Anyway, that’s for the future.’
‘Are you happy to leave it that we shall simply get to know one another and see what happens?’ asked Prudence. ‘It seems rather woolly.’
Vivienne laughed. ‘Woolly or not, there is one thing we have to decide immediately. What are we going to tell other people – if anything?’
Pretend that the most momentous event of her life hadn’t happened? She had spent almost her entire adult life doing that. Something inside her wanted to give up pretending, but that was impossible.
‘The truth must be kept a close secret. I can’t possibly… My reputation…’
‘Of course. I’ve a suggestion that I hope you won’t mind. What if we were to tell people we’ve discovered, through conversation, that I’m the daughter of an old school-friend of yours? That would be perfectly true.’
Warmth spread through Prudence’s frame. After the revelations, she felt exhausted but in a satisfied way.
‘Yes, that would work, wouldn’t it? Thank you for thinking of it.’
‘Should we go and have some of that soup? Miss Patience will worry if we leave it.’
‘Yes, let’s, and you can tell me about where you grew up.’ As Prudence was about to open the door, she stopped and looked at her daughter. Her daughter. ‘There’s one last thing. May I call you Vivienne?’
Chapter Thirty-Three
WHEN DOCTOR KEEN left, having promised to return first thing in the morning, Mrs Rostron insisted Molly should go to bed and Aaron was quick to back her up.
‘Mrs Rostron is right,’ he said. ‘You’ve been very brave, but now you need looking after.’
‘Danny is in my charge,’ said Mrs Rostron. ‘I’ll sit with him.’
‘Fetch me if there’s any change,’ said Molly.
Shutting the door behind Molly as she reluctantly left the room, Aaron said, ‘I’ll stay up with you, Mrs Rostron, though, heaven knows, it ought to be his uncle. Where is that fellow, for pity’s sake? If he had done his duty and fetched Danny immediately, the lad wouldn’t be in this situation now.’
Mrs Rostron lifted a disapproving eyebrow. ‘Danny?’
‘Yes, Danny. That’s what his parents called him, what everyone called him until he came to St Anthony’s.’
‘We have our rules, Mr Abrams, as you are well aware.’
‘I know.’ He spoke in a conciliatory voice. ‘Rules are essential, but maybe this one should be reconsidered. It was dreamed up by toffee-nosed do-gooders years ago.’
‘It’s been a stressful evening.’ Mrs Rostron was as unflappable as ever. ‘Therefore I’ll make allowances for your outspokenness, but,’ and she eyed him levelly, ‘I will not tolerate criticism of or opposition to orphanage rules under ordinary circumstances. I suggest you remember that. Now then,’ she added briskly, ‘I suggest we share out the hours of the night. I’ll sit with Danny until three o’clock, if you’ll take over then.’
A long night followed. Aaron lay on the bed in the room that had been provided for him, but he didn’t sleep. His mind was teeming with questions. He had to make time to speak to Molly. Circumstances had already obliged him to wait too long. But what would her reaction be to what he had to tell her?
What had Danny and Jacob been up to? Larking around, obviously, but what a place to choose – and in the pouring rain, too. Was this why Danny had said he didn’t want to come to Soapsuds Cottage tonight? So that he and Jacob could sneak out and indulge in a spot of mischief?
Where was Bunny? Had some accident befallen him as well?
And where was Uncle Angus? His orphaned nephew needed him.
He couldn’t wait for three o’clock. He crept back into Danny’s room before two.
Mrs Rostron looked round as the door opened. ‘He seems comfortable.’
‘Go and lie down. I’ll wake you if there’s any change.’
He sat watching Danny, leaning forward each time the boy stirred and muttered, his face screwing up as he slept; leaning forward also when he didn’t stir for some time. At last daylight came, bringing with it an edge of dazzle after the recent days of gloom when it had rained cats and dogs most of the time. Aaron drew back the curtain upon rain-washed skies of pale blue and early sunshine filled with promise.
‘Mr Abrams,’ said a quiet voice from the bed.
Aaron’s heart expanded as he turned round. ‘Danny!’ He went to the boy.
The child slipped a hand into his. ‘Have you been here all night?’
Aaron squeezed his hand and put it down on the covers. Mustn’t show favouritism.
‘Some of it. Mrs Rostron was here too.’
‘Mrs Rostron? Coo.’ Danny’s face clouded. ‘Was she waiting for me to wake up so she could give me a wigging? I s’pose me and Jacob will get the strap for getting into a fix.’
‘Mrs Rostron sat beside you for hours because she was so concerned. So was Miss Watson.’
‘Miss Watson kept my face out of the water.’
Aaron smiled. ‘She’s a heroine.’
‘And you cut me free,’ said Danny. ‘You’re a hero.’ He looked shy. ‘Thank you.’
‘The correct thing to do is shake hands and tell one another how brave we were.’
That raised a chuckle and Danny shook hands.
‘I think we’re both jolly fine splendid chaps, don’t you?’ said Aaron.
‘Hear hear,’ came a voice from the doorway.
Molly stood there, the high collar of her borrowed nightgown showing beneath the dressing gown tied tightly round her slender figure. Her hair was rumpled in a way that suggested she had used her fingers as a comb. Was this how she looked every morning? Fresh-faced and glowing, with messy hair? He would very much like to wake up beside her and find out every morning until death did them part. But it all depended upon her reaction to what he had to tell her. Would it scupper his chances for ever?
‘Mr Abrams says you’re a heroine,’ said Danny and Aaron had the pleasure of seeing her blush.
‘You seem better,’ she said.
‘I am, thank you.’
Mrs Rostron walked in, looking as neat as ever. Had she actually lain down? The brief glance she afforded Molly sent the girl scurrying from the room.
True to his word, Dr Keen arrived early and pronounced Danny none the worse for his ordeal.
‘But if you’re going back to St Anthony’s today, young man, it mustn’t be by Shanks’s pony.’
‘It can be by the laundry pony,’ said Aaron. ‘They have a pony and cart for deliveries and they owe me a favour for repairing some table-legs. I’ll pop round there now and ask.’
On his way back from making the arrangements, he was met in the pub doorway by a policeman.
‘Mr Abrams? Mr Aaron Abrams? Would you accompany me to the police station, sir? We have some questions for you.’
‘There’s a lady here for you,’ the landlady said to Molly with a smile. ‘Cons
idering we have only a couple of commercial travellers staying here at present, our hotel rooms have never been so busy!’
The landlady was followed into the room by Vivienne, carrying a valise. She hurried to Molly’s side.
‘How are you? We heard what a brave thing you did. Look, I brought you some fresh clothes. Yesterday’s will need to be laundered a dozen times, I imagine.’
Clean clothes! Bliss. ‘Can you hang on and walk back with me or do you have to get to work?’
‘I’ll drop into the newsagent’s at nine o’clock and telephone the office.’
‘I’d hate to think of you getting into trouble on my account.’
‘In trouble? For helping a heroine? Not only that, but a heroine who helped save an orphanage boy. It’ll be fine. Anyway, I’m not going to work until I’ve told you my news and I’m not going to do that until we get home, so chop-chop. Don’t look so worried. It’s good news.’
‘If your face is anything to go by, it’s wonderful news.’
‘Yes, it is.’
When Molly was ready, she went to say goodbye to Mrs Rostron. She and the boys were waiting for the laundry’s pony and cart. Oddly, considering what he had been through, Danny looked brighter than Jacob, who looked washed-out and pathetic.
Molly spoke quietly to the superintendent. ‘Would you like me to take Jacob to Wilton Close to see his mum? I’ll bring him to St Anthony’s afterwards.’
Mrs Rostron glanced at Jacob. ‘That would be a kindness. I wonder where Mr Abrams is. I thought he would be back by now.’
The maid who was clearing the breakfast table spoke up. ‘He went off to the police station. A bobby called for him.’
‘A bobby?’ Jacob exclaimed.
‘They probably want a statement from him about last night,’ said Mrs Rostron. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’
‘They’ll probably want a statement from you as well,’ Vivienne told Molly. ‘We could pop in there on the way past and ask.’
‘Could you take me to Wilton Close first?’ asked Jacob.
‘Certainly not,’ said Mrs Rostron. ‘The police station is on the way there.’
Jacob turned away, but not before Molly has seen the tears that had sprung to his eyes.
‘Make yourself useful,’ she said brightly. ‘You can carry this.’ She handed him the valise.
They thanked the landlord and landlady and set off.
‘I can go on my own to Wilton Close,’ said Jacob, ‘while you go to the police station.’
‘No.’ Molly and Vivienne spoke together.
‘We’ll be two minutes in the police station,’ said Vivienne.
‘I’ll wait outside for you.’
‘No, you won’t. We’re responsible for you and you’ll stay where we can see you.’
‘What’s this about?’ asked Molly.
‘Nowt, nowt.’ He blinked rapidly, his chin sinking almost to his chest.
‘There’s a guilty conscience, if ever I saw one,’ Vivienne murmured. ‘What can he be so worried about?’
They kept him waiting. On purpose? To make him anxious? Aaron wasn’t anxious – well, not in a guilty way, though he was definitely unsettled and confused. What was going on? The bobby hadn’t answered any of his questions on the way here. The police station’s heavy door had swung shut behind the two of them and the bobby had presented him to the desk sergeant, who had checked his name and address.
‘What’s this about?’ Aaron had asked.
‘This way, please, sir.’
Unlocking and lifting the flap in the wooden counter, the sergeant had showed him to this small room where he was now, and left him here. The room boasted a table in the centre with an upright chair on either side. Frustrated at not knowing what was happening, Aaron had thought, rather bloody-mindedly, that he wouldn’t sit down; but after waiting for goodness knows how long, it seemed ridiculous to stay on his feet, so he took a seat.
At last the door opened and a man in plain clothes walked in and sat down. He was followed into the room by a different bobby. They were both older men. The bobby positioned himself by the door. Did they expect him to make a dash for it?
Displaying a Bolton accent, the plain-clothed chap introduced himself as Inspector Woods and asked Aaron to confirm his name and address.
‘I’ve already told the desk sergeant.’
‘And now you can tell me…please.’
‘Aaron Abrams, Soapsuds Cottage. Will you kindly tell me what this is about?’
‘I was rather hoping you could tell me, Abrams.’ Abrams, not Mr Abrams.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Where’s Hobart Carstairs?’ The inspector fired the question at him.
A frown tugged his brow. ‘Who?’
‘You do a very good job of looking confused.’
‘Probably because I am confused, Inspector. I repeat, what’s this about?’
‘The whereabouts of Hobart Carstairs. I repeat, where is he?’
‘Haven’t the foggiest. Never heard of him.’
‘Is that so?’ The inspector bared his teeth in a pretend smile. ‘Let’s make it easier for you, then, shall we? Tell me what happened yesterday evening.’
That, he could do. He described how the two lads had gone missing and how he and Molly had been intercepted by Bunny.
‘Bunny and Miss Watson went straight to the brook while I went to the Bowler to ask for whatever tools they possessed.’
‘And then you and a group of men from the Bowling Green, including the landlord, went to the brook. Miss Watson was in the overflow hole with the trapped boy. Was Bunny there?’
‘Yes. He was next to the hole.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive. When we all came bumbling through the bushes, he looked round and said something, though I couldn’t tell you what. “Thank goodness” or “At last,” that kind of thing. I was more concerned with getting into the water and rescuing the lad.’
‘And while you did that, no doubt all eyes were upon you.’
‘I wouldn’t know. I was busy freeing Danny Cropper’s foot.’
‘When you were pulled out from the overflow, was Bunny there?’
‘I didn’t see him, but then I wasn’t looking for him. Then someone said he’d gone for a doctor.’
‘But you didn’t wait for the doctor to arrive.’
‘We couldn’t, not with Danny and Miss Watson soaked to the bone. We carried them back to the Bowler and, after a while, I went for the doctor myself.’
‘Because you knew Bunny hadn’t.’
A tingling sensation ran up and down Aaron’s arms beneath his skin. It was all he could do not to scratch. ‘What?’
‘Because you knew Bunny hadn’t.’
He almost spluttered. ‘I knew no such thing. I don’t know what he did or where he went. I thought he’d gone for the doctor – we all did. Then no doctor arrived and I went for one myself.’
‘Where did you think Bunny was?’
‘I don’t know, I tell you. I thought he’d gone for the doctor.’
‘But you knew he hadn’t, because otherwise why would you have gone yourself?’
‘I did that later, after Bunny didn’t come back.’
‘Took a chance, didn’t you? On that young lad’s life? Withholding a doctor from him when he needed one most.’
Now he really did splutter. ‘How dare you! I fetched Dr Keen as soon as I realised—’
‘Realised what, Abrams?’
‘That we’d waited a long time.’
‘Oh aye, a long time. Plenty long enough to assist Bunny.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Inspector Woods banged his fist on the table so hard that it moved a couple of inches, its feet scraping on the bare floorboards. He thrust his face forwards.
‘It’s time to stop playing games, Abrams. Bunny legged it and you helped him by pretending to fall in with the general assumption that he’d gone for th
e doctor. It was a pity for you that the boy was in a ropey condition, or you could have let the pretence continue even longer.’
Aaron’s mouth dropped open. Confusion rolled around inside his head. ‘Bunny legged it? What in the name of all that’s holy are you talking about?’
‘Where is he now?’
‘How many times? I don’t know.’
‘I’ll ask you again, Abrams. Where is Hobart Carstairs?’
‘And I’ll tell you again. I’ve never heard of him – unless…’ Chill washed through him. ‘Are you telling me that Hobart Carstairs is Bunny’s real name?’
‘Full marks for your prowess as an actor, but it won’t wash with me. Where is he?’
‘I – don’t – know!’
The inspector sat back, drumming his fingers on the table, his eyes filled with thoughts. Aaron would have given a great deal to be able to read his mind. What the hell was going on? And what part was he meant to have played?
When the inspector spoke, it was in a measured voice, as if he were considering the matter even as he uttered the words, but Aaron wasn’t fooled. Inspector Woods knew exactly what he was about.
‘I could lock you in one of our cells and leave you to think things over, but I’m not going to do that…for now. I’m going to let you go, but don’t get any funny ideas, because I’ll be keeping a close eyes on you at all times.’
‘You’re going to have me watched?’ It was unbelievable. Everything about this was unbelievable.
‘Good day, Abrams.’
The inspector rose to his feet. By the door, the policeman, who, come to think of it, hadn’t moved a muscle all through the interview, opened the door and the inspector walked out.
The copper looked at Aaron. ‘This way.’
Stunned, Aaron hauled himself to his feet and followed Inspector Woods along the passage. As they approached the front desk, the copper behind Aaron caught his arm, bringing him to a standstill.
‘One moment, if you please.’
Christ, what now?
‘If you’d make way.’
The corridor suddenly felt crowded. There were men behind them, two bobbies and a civilian – Aaron’s head swung back for a second look. That man: he had seen him before, but where? His gaze followed the trio up the corridor.
