Three Times Removed

by M K Jones

  Maggie turned back to Jack. “You’ve seen her. Look at the photo. Is it her?”

  “Yes.” His looked like he was about to be sick. Maggie bent down and put her arms around him. He was shaking.

  “She’s gone, Jack. She left the school. Alice is safe.”

  He nodded. “Are you going to tell Alice, Mum?”

  “No!” Her reply was emphatic and Zelah protested immediately.

  “You have to tell her, Maggie. It’s only fair!”

  “She’s ten!” Maggie shouted back. “If the thing’s gone, she doesn’t need to know! She’s just a child.” Maggie slumped back in her chair. “When she first saw this photo she knew she’d seen someone else in it, before. I didn’t question it at the time. But it must have been the teacher. The face is faded. I didn’t think.”

  “For God’s sake, don’t start beating yourself up.” Zelah turned to Nick. “She does this, blames herself for something that isn’t remotely her fault.”

  “We all do,” he replied. “Just natural, when it’s one of your kids. Thing is, what are you going to do now? If you don’t want to tell her, that is.” He went back to the settee and settled himself back, staring at the ceiling.

  “I can’t say,” Maggie replied, feeling dejected. “I can’t just react to stuff like this. I need time to think it all over.” She turned to Zelah and Nick. “Would you mind going now? I need some quiet time.”

  Nick jumped up immediately and made for the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ve still got to sort out that thing with Alan, that I think will help you,” and he was gone, banging the front door behind him.

  Zelah hadn’t moved. “If you’re going to try to rationalise this, don’t bother. Don’t question it, just accept it as truth. Think about everything you’ve learned, think about what Louisa told you and what’s in the letters. It all fits.” She stood up.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Maggie suddenly broke into a sob. “It was supposed to be fun, exciting, researching history. Not this!”

  “If you want sympathy, I’m not the person. If you want support, I’m not going anywhere, apart from home.” Zelah paused at the door. “I’ll let myself out. I’ll call you in the morning. Tell Alice!”

  Her heels echoed on the tiles in the hall, as Maggie and Jack sat on the floor with their arms around each other.

  “Should we tell her, Mum?” he whispered.

  “No,” Maggie replied, more firmly than she felt.

  “Tell her what?” Alice asked, from the doorway.

  Seventy One

  The wind had worked itself up into a gale and lashing rain slammed into the windows and rattled the frames. As the evening drew in, Maggie found logs in the shed and lit a fire in the grate. Although it was still light, they closed the curtains and toasted bread and crumpets, sitting on the hearth rug in front of the flames.

  “Apparently, it’s the tail end of a hurricane,” Maggie explained. “I just saw it on the news.”

  “This has been a great day,” Alice murmured to Maggie, leaning against her shoulder and staring at the flickering lights. “I found a new friend.”

  “A whole family of them,” Maggie replied.

  “Can I invite Esme over some time, to see my summerhouse?”

  “Of course. If it’s still standing tomorrow,” she joked, as the entire back window rattled alarmingly. Alice clapped her hands to her mouth. “Don’t worry, Alice. The summerhouse will be fine. I’ll be speaking to Nick tomorrow. He thinks he’s onto some more information for us. I’ll get Alan’s number.”

  “Do you like him?” Jack, lying full length on the settee, looked up from his car magazine.

  “He seems OK. Not sure about his wife, but I liked Esme.”

  “No, I mean Nick.”

  “Yes, he seems OK, too. He likes history.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Mum.”

  Maggie turned her face to the fire. “It’s the only question I’m answering.”

  “Why does he wear gloves all of the time?” Alice asked.

  “I have no idea,” Maggie replied. “Perhaps he has something wrong with his hands, that embarrasses him. I’m not going to ask, either. Right! Time for bed.”

  Ignoring the protests, she ushered them out of the room. Once they were both in their rooms and ready to sleep, she went back down to the sitting room, dragged her chair from the back window to the fire, and settled herself down, knowing that she wouldn’t sleep for many hours that night, if at all.

  Maggie finally fell asleep just before dawn, with the result that she was sluggish and bad tempered when it was time to get up a couple of hours later. They were, predictably, late. After snapping at Jack and shouting at Alice, she returned home from the school run feeling edgy.

  The storm had finally abated, the garden forlorn in its aftermath. The roses had borne the brunt of the wind’s ferocious battering, petals strewn like confetti across the lawn. Angry, billowing clouds still rushed across the sky as violent gusts of wind whipped the bushes to the ground. But patches of blue were visible here and there and at least the rain had stopped.

  This time next week, I’ll be facing another kind of storm, she thought as she wandered round the garden in her wellingtons, cup of tea and ball of twine in hand, surveying the damage. “Battering me down, just like you, you poor little things.” She bent to tie up some delphiniums that were lying on the earth.

  “Pathetic!” she muttered. “Get over yourself, Maggie Gilbert. Don’t be such a whinger.” The wind swirled around her suddenly, making her check over her shoulder.

  The phone rang. It was Fiona, and Maggie spent a futile half hour rebuffing her sister’s enthusiasm and offers of help. She was too tired not to let Fiona collect the kids for the first week of her new job. That could change when she was more up to arguing with her sister.

  The phone rang again. Gritting her teeth for a continuation of the conversation with Fee, she picked it up. It was Nick.

  “I spoke to Alan this morning. He’s got what I told you about. You need to come and see.”

  For a few minutes, Maggie struggled to focus. Her mind had been so full of thoughts of the monster that was Eira Probert she had forgotten about whatever it was that Nick believed would help.

  “OK, when? Today, please? It has to be this week and for me, the sooner the better.”

  “Lunchtime? At Knyghton?”

  “Yes, if it’s early. I must be back by three.”

  “How about half twelve?”

  “That’s fine. Can I invite Zelah?”

  “Of course. See you later.”

  Maggie rang Zelah, and arranged to meet her at the entrance to Knyghton at twelve thirty, then went upstairs to shower and wash her hair.

  * * *

  Maggie arrived early. Zelah wasn’t due for another quarter of an hour, so she headed to the formal gardens. The gardeners were busy repairing the storm damage. She stopped for quick pleasantries, then wandered around the paths and the beautiful flower borders. When she was at school the beds weren’t tended and nurtured as they now were. The mixture of colours, textures and sweet smells was relaxing and she wished that she could develop just a small scrap of the talent that produced such beauty. She was leaning over a gate, craning her neck to see around to where the greenhouses stood, when she heard her name called.

  “Nick’s wandering round looking for you! I thought you’d be here.” Zelah shouted across.

  “Why?”

  “Peaceful place to think. That’s what you’ve been doing non-stop since yesterday, I presume.”

  Maggie smiled in response. “Let’s go and find him, before he gets agitated.”

  As she and Zelah walked under the stone arch and around to the back entrance of the house, they met Nick coming towards them, waving.

  “Alan’s here. He’s up in the archive room.” He looked excited, like a child with a secret.

  Nick took them through the housekeeper’s room, up the back stairs to the top of th
e house, and into the archive area where Alan stood chatting to Ted Morgan.

  As soon as he saw her, Alan held out his hand to Maggie. “Esme had a smashing time yesterday. She’d love to meet up with Alice again.”

  Maggie noticed that he hadn’t mentioned his wife and was deliberately avoiding Zelah.

  “Alice said the same. I gather they were chatting on their computers last night.”

  “Yes,” Alan replied. “Esme tells me they’ve had the same teaching assistant, which is a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? And Esme didn’t like her either.” He beamed at Maggie, who tried to smile back.

  “Thank goodness it was only for a day.” She glanced at Zelah who was frowning, and Nick, who had stuck out his bottom lip, like a pouting schoolboy.

  “Anyway, what do you have to show me?” She went on quickly, before Zelah could cut in. Maggie suspected that Zelah would want to reveal what they knew to Alan for his daughter’s sake. But Maggie still wasn’t ready to tell Alice, and wanted to tell her before confiding in Alan.

  “Well, it’s something that Nana left behind. We found it in amongst her stuff, wrapped up in tissue paper and tied with a silk ribbon. It’s such a grubby old thing, we couldn’t understand why she had treated it with such care.”

  In his left hand he had been holding a small carrier bag, from which he now took a paper bag. From inside the bag he carefully slid out a small package, so small that it fitted into the palm of his hand. Maggie, Zelah and Nick gathered closely around. Maggie could see that the tissue paper was faded to a dirty off-white, but the ribbon retained its rich blood-red colour.

  “We know from the diary this was the only thing that great-grandmother Esme had when she arrived at Knyghton. Her aunt said that it was clasped so tight in her hand that they almost had to break her fingers to get it out. Moira almost burned it, but decided to keep it and gave it back to Esme. Esme wanted it kept in the family, so she gave it to Nana and she passed it down.”

  A gentle tug on the ribbon caused it to fall away. Alan unwrapped the tissue paper with the tip of his thumb and forefinger, holding it as if he expected it to melt like a snowflake in a warm hand.

  On the palm of his hand lay a square of cloth, small and thinner than the tissue paper. Once it would have been white, but time had faded it to grey. The edges were frayed on three of the four sides.

  “It’s a rag,” Zelah muttered.

  Maggie leaned in so closely that her nose almost touched the material.

  “I think it was linen,” she said. “May I?” She gently rubbed the material. “It’s very fine. I think this was a handkerchief. And,” she paused to steady her nerves, “perhaps it could be ‘the’ handkerchief. Do you remember, Zelah?”

  Zelah’s face was puzzled, but then she snapped her fingers. “The little thing that she took with her. It could be.”

  Maggie looked at the two men, who were frowning at her and Zelah. “One of the letters I inherited from Louisa Jenkins. It was written by my great-grandmother Ruth to her sister Mary Anne Picton, but never posted. For some reason she left it among her possessions. In the letter she says that Alice took with her a handkerchief that Ruth had embroidered with her initials. It was a gift,” she added, a lump in her throat. Quickly she turned to the piece of material. “Look, in the corner. Have you noticed this, Alan?”

  With her index figure she traced over what looked like a thin dirty line. “It looks like two sides of a triangle. Could it be the shape of an A? What do you all think?”

  They all bent in to look, then Nick’s head shot up.

  “Machine,” he said and pointed to what looked like a small photocopier in the corner of the room. “Got it just recently. Might show us.”

  Alan nodded slowly. “I can make out something now you’ve pointed to it. I never saw it before, thought it was just a stain in the material.”

  “You didn’t know that you were looking for it,” she replied, following Nick to the corner.

  He carefully placed the piece of material underneath the cover of what looked like a photocopier, then told them all to stand back. “New kind of X-ray scanner. No danger, very low level, but best be sure. Not supposed to get too close.”

  They all moved to join him on the other side of the room, where he picked up a small remote control. He pressed a button on the hand-held pad. “It’ll go straight to the computer,” he gestured at his desk.

  “That’s impressive!” Zelah whispered, “Must be worth a bit!”

  “Gift from a former pupil. Did quite well for herself and likes the house. She wanted to help us with our research.” A ping from the computer told them that the result was ready. They moved quickly across the room and crowded around the screen. “Moment of truth,” he whispered.

  The screen filled with shades of grey and white, a light square in the middle of a dark grey background. Nick focused on the corner where the marks were and enlarged the section.

  Maggie gasped. There, as clear as it would have been when they had first been sewn in, were the initials “A.R.J.”. Alice Ruth Jones. She felt a tear well up and run down her cheek.

  “I found you,” she murmured. “You were lost, but I found you.”

  Nick looked curiously at her. “You feel like you know her?”

  “Yes,” replied Maggie. “It’s become close, almost like I was looking for my own daughter in a maze of truths and half-truths. I can’t imagine what Ruth must have gone through, never knowing if she was alive or not. But at least she knew at the end. That’s what we think, isn’t it, Alan? Now that we know for sure that Alice and Esme were the same person, and your great-grandmother was reconciled with her mother, somehow. They found each other.”

  He half smiled, half grimaced. “Yes, I suppose so. Until I met you I don’t think I really thought of them as living, breathing people. They were just interesting names from my past. But the last couple of days have brought them to life.”

  “Can you print that out for me Nick?” Maggie asked.

  “No problem,” he replied.

  Maggie spoke to Alan again. “I brought this to show you.” She rifled in her handbag and brought out the school picture of Alice and Esme. Alan peered at it and whistled. “It’s the spitting image of your daughter, isn’t it? And I can see a resemblance to my Esme. Oh my goodness! That woman at the back looks just like the teaching assistant that Esme disliked so much.”

  His face was puzzled.

  “You met her?” Maggie asked quickly.

  “Just last Friday,” he replied, surprised at the anxiety in her voice. “I had to pick Esme up as she wasn’t well. She was with this woman,” he pointed to the picture, then grinned. “Well, she was with someone who looks rather like this woman. Strange, isn’t it?”

  Zelah and Nick glanced rapidly at each other. Zelah asked Alan, “Do you have any photographs of your great-grandmother?”

  “I’m not sure. I have some old photos, somewhere in the attic. After yesterday, I plan to go and look for them. I’ll see if I can find them tonight.” He paused, then said enthusiastically, “This is like an adventure, isn’t it?”

  No-one replied.

  Seventy Two

  They made their way in silence back to the car park. Maggie spoke first. “Time to go. I have to be back to fetch Jack and Alice from school. Zelah are you coming with me?”

  “No, something I need to do.”

  Maggie waited but she didn’t elucidate.

  “Oh well, speak to you later then. Alan, let me know if you find any photos.”

  She started to walk towards her car, when Nick called out to her. “Be careful, Maggie.”

  She frowned, went to speak but changed her mind, half waved an acknowledgement, and left the grounds.

  Driving home, Maggie thought over Nick’s parting remark. She understood his concern but as far as she was aware, there was no imminent danger. But she rang his mobile anyway.

  “What did you mean?” she began without preamble.

  “Eira will
be waiting, somewhere,” he replied immediately “Just be prepared, that’s all I’m saying. Anywhere, any time.” He paused, then, “Stand firm, Maggie. Don’t feed her with your fear. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. No. OK. Thanks.” She was too tired to think any more.

  “No problem.”

  Back at home she had almost an hour to fill before setting out again for school. Alice was going to be late today. Her class had been to visit the comprehensive school at the top of the hill where they would be starting in September and they were going to walk back to the primary school afterwards. Parents had been told to be at the school at three thirty. Jack had agreed to walk down and wait at the gate.

  After the revelations of the day, Maggie was restless. She sat down to study the X-ray of the hankerchief. The letters were symmetrical and exact, although she knew that they would have been sewn by hand, with no pattern to follow. She imagined Ruth sewing under lamp light in the dark evenings leading up to Alice’s birthday. A heavy weariness came into her eyes and she found herself fighting to keep them open.

  “Just for a moment,” a seductive voice whispered. “Just a few minutes rest, eyelids closed, not sleep.” This was a familiar voice, an old deceiver which Maggie knew would lull her into a treacherous doze if she wasn’t careful. But, she was in control, she could just close them for a moment…

  She came to with the image of a half-formed face coming closer to her and the hint of a very bad smell. In panic, she looked around for the time, as the clock in the hall told her it was half past the hour. She had slept for almost thirty minutes and Jack and Alice would be waiting at the gate.

  In alarm, Maggie grabbed her keys, ran out of the house and jumped into the car. She made the journey in record time, despite the rain and wind having started again. She hoped to disguise her tardiness among other stragglers and their parents. But there was only one mother there, anxiously peering down the drive from under a small umbrella. There were also plenty of parking spaces. Ominous.