by M K Jones
John stood up. “I must go, Ruth. The postmaster offered yesterday to take me to Newport in his trap. I’m already late. I must meet the inspector to find out what they have discovered.”
Ruth still didn’t look up from the table. “It rained again last night. A great storm.”
“Yes. We heard it. Mrs Evans is concerned that Alice will have taken a chill, so she has made up some goose fat preparation to use on the journey home.”
John hovered impatiently, unable to make up his mind whether to leave or to wait for Ruth to speak.
“I must go, Ruth.” He hesitated. Still no response. His voice rose with his growing impatience. “I am better doing something!”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at him. “Of course, you must go. I’m afraid, John…” he cut across her so harshly that she moved back in shock.
“Don’t speak of it! Everything is being done that can be done. We will find her. Then we’ll know what’s behind this disgraceful behaviour.”
Ruth’s mouth dropped, but no words came out. Her worries had been increasing, but she had assumed that he felt the same. She felt no resentment towards her daughter, being now quite certain that what had occurred had been so terrible that Alice had run away out of fear. She felt guilt that Alice had not spoken to her. That John could feel anger towards Alice horrified her. Her expression altered as these thoughts darted through her head. John knew her well enough to read the feelings that his outburst had brought out.
“I know you’re concerned for her welfare. I share that concern. But I cannot condone her running away from us.” His tone was half anger, half plea.
“So, what’s making you more angry, John? Alice running away, or Alice running from you and me? Does this undermine your discipline or hurt your pride?”
Her words hurt him. She knew that and she had meant them to. He waited for her to explain, or to retract. When she did neither he left. She sat unmoving until she heard the clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves as the trap passed along the lane, without stopping. As the trap faded, Ruth’s mother walked into the kitchen.
“Gwen says that’s the final copper for today, so she’s going to start on the rinsing. Now, talk to me, girl.” She sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the table to Ruth, arms folded, leaning forwards.
“He’s angry with Alice. I can’t believe it, Mam.”
“He’s just frightened. Men are different. They don’t like to show their fear. He may be a little harsh on her when she comes back, but it won’t last. He loves her.”
“What if she doesn’t come back?”
The older woman sat back in her chair. “How long have you been thinking like this?”
“I sat in her room yesterday. It’s so empty. What if she’s dead?” Ruth whispered, her head bowed.
“What if she is?” Ruthie Evans spoke the words slowly, each one emphasised. Her daughter’s head snapped up in astonishment.
“Then, what if she isn’t?” her mother continued immediately. “What is the point of thinking like this? You have three other children, and something else to tell me?”
Ruth smiled. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”
“Gwen told me what happened yesterday. It’s going to affect you badly again, if yesterday was anything to go by. You must take care of your health. Alice will need you to be strong. Does John know?”
“No, I haven’t told him yet and he hasn’t noticed. I’ll tell him later. I wouldn’t like him to find out from anyone but me.” She frowned at her mother.
“Not a word from me, I promise. But make sure you tell him tonight. I think he will insist that you speak with a medical man.”
Ruth shrugged but before she could reply, Gwen came into the kitchen and the conversation turned to who would do what for the remainder of the day.
Throughout the day Ruth went about her tasks, not speaking unless it was about household management, knowing that her mother was watching her every move.
William, who had again attended school, was delighted to be met at the gate by both his grandmother and Walter. He chatted animatedly to her as they walked back to the farm, then took Walter out into the fields to find Ifor.
In the evening, when the children were in bed, Ruth listened keenly for the sound of the trap returning, but by the time they lit the lamps and sat in the parlour, John had still not come back. After a further couple of hours of uneasy pacing downstairs, there came the sound of footsteps at the back door.
The look on John’s face told her everything. He was accompanied by their local police constable, who asked Ruth and her mother to sit at the table. “We spent the day in Newport, Mrs Jones, and we have discovered some information.” For a moment her heart rose, but he was still unsmiling.
“There was a child, the stall men and the boat owners at the port believed it to be a vagabond child, who was trying to get onto the paddle ship that sails across the Bristol Channel to Weston-super-Mare. Mr Jones tells me that this was an interest of Alice’s?”
“Of course!” Ruth jumped up out of her chair. “That’s what was missing from her room. The newspaper article of crossings for the Waverley. She’s trying to get across the Channel. We can find out the times of the crossings!” A wave of dizziness hit her and she sat down heavily, grabbing at the edge of the table.
“Ruth!” John’s voice was edged with panic as he rushed to catch her as she was about to fall off her chair.
“Take her upstairs. Talk to her.” Her mother spoke quietly to John, trying to convey a meaning in her voice that he heard but didn’t understand. John led Ruth up to their bedroom.
In the kitchen, Ruthie Evans turned to the startled constable. “My daughter has not been sleeping well. A glass of beer whilst we wait for Mr Jones to return?” She nodded to Gwen, but he intervened with a smile.
“Thank you, ma’am, but no. It’s discouraged nowadays. Besides, I don’t think there will be any in this house.”
Ruthie returned a reserved smile. “No, you’re quite right of course. A cup of tea, then?”
“Excellent, ma’am, thank you.”
She walked behind him and moved the kettle from the hob. For ten awkward minutes they drained their cups in stilted conversation, until John came back. He gave a knowing nod to his mother-in-law and resumed his place at the table.
“I have told my wife what we know and what is our plan.” He turned from the constable to Ruthie. “We are going to wait here while the constabulary search Weston-super-Mare to see if a child got off the boat there yesterday afternoon, or was seen moving around the dockside. They have already been telegraphed. As soon as there’s a reply we’ll be informed. In the meantime we must go on with our lives here.”
“Are you intending to go to to England too, John?”
“Only if there is something to search after.” He ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously pulling hard at it. “I must think about the farm. It can’t run itself.”
“How long before we hear something?” Ruthie asked the constable.
“We should get a reply by tomorrow morning, ma’am. If there’s been a sighting, then Mr Jones can go there to meet the constabulary and search himself.”
“And if not?”
“Then we have run out of information, ma’am. It might be time to bring in the detectives. But…” he paused with a frown, “…but we should wait to find out the news from Weston-super-Mare first.” With that he stood quickly.
“I’ll be going now, Mr Jones. I’ll be at the station house. If there’s any news, I’ll be sure to call around immediately.”
John saw him to the door. As soon as he returned Ruthie spoke. “He has something on his mind. Did he tell you, John?”
“He has speculations, but that’s all they are. Now, let’s stop discussing this, please. I need to see Ifor at his cottage before it gets too dark.” He went to put on his coat, but put a hand on his arm.
“You spoke to Ruth?”
“Yes. She thinks it wi
ll be in November. I’ve asked her to see the local physician to tell him about the previous times.” Ruthie nodded and went upstairs to her daughter. Ruth was sitting on the side of her bed, staring through the open window into the garden. Her mother sat down beside her, taking her hand with a gentle squeeze.
“We just have to wait, girl. Just wait. I’m here. The children will be fine with me. Just wait… and hope.” Ruth’s head sank onto her chest.
Tuesday was quiet and uneventful. Granny Ruth took William to school, supervised the laundry and the dairy, and managed the tasks for Gwen. A few visitors and well-wishers called, enquiring after progress and looking for an opportunity for gossip. John had left early for the fields, leaving a message with Gwen to inform him via Arthur as soon as any word came from the constabulary. Ruth tried to work with Walter on his letters and numbers, and to occupy Maud, but she found that she had little concentration and twitched at every sound at the front and back of the farm.
John didn’t return as usual at lunchtime, but sent word via Ifor that he would remain in the fields until supper. He returned at seven o’clock as the light faded and the full moon emerged in the late spring sky.
The family sat down to supper. No-one spoke; even baby Maud seemed to pick up on the atmosphere and she played quietly with her spoon while the boys sat staring at their plates. They had just finished their meal when a loud knock at the front door caused them all to jump. John went slowly to the front porch. Ruth remained seated, gripping edge of the table as she heard the voice of the constable ask if he could have a word in private. Then she heard their footsteps fading into the parlour. She waited uncertainly, looking from her mother to the boys to the open doorway.
“He’ll be back presently, just wait!”
The parlour door opened and John ran into the kitchen. One look at his ashen face told her that it was bad news. He gripped her shoulders so tightly that she was unable to move. “The constabulary in Weston-super-Mare has contacted ours. The body of a child has been found in the sea. They have asked for me to go immediately.” Staring into his face, a blackness began to fall across her vision, a howl was the last thing to fade.
Thirty One
“Ruth, Ruth! Can you hear me? Are you listening to me?” A rough hand shook her shoulder, irritating her enough to cause her to open her eyes and frown at whoever was shouting. Ruth saw her mother looking grimly back at her. She clutched at her mother’s hand.
“Where is John? What’s happening? How long have I been here? I must go with him!” She tried to jump up from the bed, but the weakness in her legs and her mother’s firm hand held her down. She felt an emptiness in her stomach like hunger.
“What do you remember?” her mother asked.
“The news, of course. The child in the water. What else is there to remember? Did I become faint?” She glanced around. “Did John bring me here? I remember someone crying.” She angrily shook her mother’s hand off her shoulder. “Where is he? I must go with him.”
“John has been gone two days.” The statement took a moment to sink in.
“Have I been senseless for two days? It can’t be!”
“We haven’t been sure if you were conscious or not. Sometimes your eyes have been open, sometimes closed. Nothing has roused you, not even the children crying for you.” Ruth could hear the criticism. “The doctor is to call soon and if you hadn’t yet spoken, he was going to arrange for you to be taken to the hospital.”
“But you would not have let him?”
“What choice would I have had?” Now the tone was bitter and angry. Ruth closed her eyes and tried to summon calmness. Arguing with her mother wouldn’t help.
“Please, Mam, just tell me what’s happened,” she implored in as serene a voice as she could muster.
“Well, you did faint, at first. John carried you upstairs and waited for some time. But after a couple of hours, he sent for the doctor. The doctor said it was probably shock, but on hearing of your condition and past troubles, he said that you must rest quietly. John decided to set out at once. He put together a case of clothes and ran to the postmaster for the trap and they left the house at around nine.”
She saw Ruth, about to interrupt, and held up her hand. “Let me finish what I know. I heard later from the postmaster that John put up overnight in Newport, in order to take the early coach to Gloucester where he expected to stay the night, then today has travelled on to Weston-super-Mare by train. He will arrive there this evening and has an arrangement to meet with the local police inspector. He will check… the… child… first thing tomorrow. As soon as there’s news, it will be telegraphed to us.”
Ruth sat on the bed, staring at her mother, squeezing her shaking hands, with the realisation that there was nothing that she could do for John, and that there was nothing to be gained from asking further questions.
“What time is it, Mam?”
It’s just after two in the afternoon. I’ll go and…” She was cut short by a knocking at the front door.
“That’ll be the doctor. Stay there.” Ruthie commanded. “I’ll bring him to you. Then you should speak to William and Walter, who are desperate to hear your voice.”
The doctor was relieved that Ruth had regained her senses, but put it down in part to her condition and begged that she should do nothing to exert herself in the coming months, if she wanted both herself and the child to survive. Ruth’s response caused him to leave the house shaking his head with hopeless exasperation.
“Call me if anything happens, Mrs Evans. Which I expect will be the case before too long.” He gave her a knowing look, shook his head again, and left without waiting for a reply.
As soon as he departed, Ruth dressed and went to Walter and Maud who were playing in the boys’ room. They squealed at seeing her. Walter asked if she was better now and as soon as she had reassured him, they returned to their playthings and she went on down to the kitchen. Gwen was delighted to see her. Having heard that she was on her feet again, she had prepared tea and bread and butter. The sight of food increased her hunger pangs and she sat at the kitchen table. In response to her questioning, Gwen informed her of the local news.
“A great many people have been asking about you, Mrs Jones. In the village, there’s concern about the news from England. The deacons are meeting tonight to pray for your family.”
“Not all of them, I assume, Gwen.”
“No, Mrs Jones, not all of them. But most.”
“That’s considerate. But my mother tells me that we shall receive a telegraph message tomorrow morning. So now I must wait.”
With that, she left for the yard. Gwen went to follow but Ruthie moved into her path.
“Let her go, Gwen. She needs to fill her time. In an hour she can walk with me to meet William. She has to prepare herself for whatever news is to come.”
At four, Ruth and her mother walked to the school. As they crossed the green she could see the enquiring stares from villagers, but she walked with her head high. They stopped and waited at the schoolhouse in silence.
William was the first child to appear. “Hello, Mammy!” His smile turning to an enquiring frown.
“No, my darling, no news.” She held out her hand and stroked his cheek. “Nanny Ruth tells me that you’ve been a wonderful help to her.”
“I’ve tried my best, Mammy.”
“And it was good enough, William. Good enough.” She took his hand and they walked back to the farm.
“Sara Drew said that she missed Alice. That was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed. Has anyone else spoken to you of Alice?”
“Not really, Mammy. Miss Probert kept looking at me, but she didn’t say anything. Mrs Morris asked if you were well. I said no.”
Ruth and her mother exchanged glances. “Did Mrs Morris offer you sympathy?”
“No.”
“Well, we have enough to think about for now. We shall hear from Dada tomorrow morning. We must all wait and pray.”
“Can we p
ray when we get home, Mammy?” As he looked at her he could see her anguish.
“Of course, William.”
The next twelve hours were the hardest that Ruth had ever known. In the evening the family ate in silence and Ruth didn’t insist on William reading his Bible or going to bed at his usual hour. The younger children were put to bed by Granny Ruth while Ruth and William waited in the parlour, as the sun set and the light faded. Ruthie joined them with her sewing, saying little. When they had to accept that there wasn’t going to be any news, they all went to bed.
They woke early, breakfasted and had been waiting in the parlour for a couple of hours when the knock finally came, just before nine o’clock. Ruth couldn’t stand. She took William’s hand as her mother went to answer the door to show in the constable. He didn’t waste any time.
“It wasn’t Alice, Mrs Jones.”
Thirty Two
Ruth’s chin dropped to her chest and it rolled it slowly from side to side. She could hear William breathing heavily.
“Ruth!” It was her mother in the doorway, fearing another fainting episode.
“Nothing to be concerned about, Mam. William, fetch me a cup of water. So, constable, what now?”
“Mr Jones said that he will set out for home this morning. He’ll need one night on the road, so he should be home tomorrow evening. We will talk again then.” He shuffled and looked at the door. “I’ll take my leave of you then. Ladies.”
“Thank you, constable.” Ruthie moved towards the door ahead of him, but he hesitated and turned back to Ruth.
“Just one thing, Mrs Jones. Our detective in Newport reports that just before Mr Jones was there last Sunday, there was another woman at the dock looking for a missing child. A girl, your Alice’s age. Do you know who she could be?”
“No, indeed. Every day it was our men, and men from the village that searched, not the womenfolk. There were some farm hands from Rhiwbina, but I didn’t hear of a woman joining them. Why would someone be looking as well without telling us?”
