Chapter 64: Mary & Peter Schormann

Manchester: Friday, 17th October

‘Jacqueline will be cross when she finds out we didn’t wait until tomorrow,’ Mary said. ‘You could have had another day’s rest.’

‘I am fine.’ Peter cautiously pushed opened the heavy door of the old Tabernacle church. Shouts and giggles greeted them. They could see children running around. ‘I do not want to wait until tomorrow.’

‘Can I help you?’ A young man, dressed in flared jeans and a red-beaded loose smock, blocked their way. His face was difficult to read but Mary didn’t feel threatened.

Peter held out Victoria’s photograph. ‘We are looking for our daughter?’

Instantly the man smiled and turned away from them ‘Karl? Someone here you might like to talk to.’ He opened the door wider. ‘Come in. I’m Col.’

Did this mean they knew Victoria? Mary wondered. She felt as though her heart was thumping so loud Peter would hear it as he held her hand and led her inside. ‘This Karl,’ she whispered, ‘do you think he knows where Victoria is?’

‘Let us wait to see,’ Peter said.

A youth appeared, smiling and tucking his long blond hair behind his ears in a self-conscious gesture.

Col gave him a friendly shove on his shoulder and said, ‘One of your lot to chat to, I think. Same accent anyway.’

The youth tilted his head in question. ‘Ja? Yes?’

Mary saw the way Peter’s face lit up.

‘Hallo. Ich hoffe daß Sie mir helfen können?’ he said.

Apart from his friend in Ashford, Heinz, a man who used to be a barber, it was a while since Peter had spoken to anyone in his own language and it was strange to hear him now, Mary thought. In a way it separated him from her. Even though she had long ago learned to speak some German with him it wasn’t the same as him talking with someone so easily.

‘Wie kann ich Ihnen helfen?’ Karl grinned, seemingly as delighted as Peter. But he frowned and shook his head as he scanned the photograph. ‘Nein.’ There was regret in his voice. He looked up at Peter. ‘Wo ist Ihre Heimatstadt in Deutschland?’

‘Sachsen. Saxony,’ Peter said, glancing at Mary.

She smiled, concealing her disappointment that the youth hadn’t seen Victoria. ‘You stay here for a minute. Have a chat,’ she said to Peter.

‘Danke. Thank you.’ He squeezed her hand.

Col grinned at Mary. ‘Right, let’s ask the others if they’ve seen your daughter. What’s she called?’

‘Victoria,’ she said, following him.

Inside, the church was beautiful. High arched ceilings were ornate with sculptured cornices. Rugs were scattered over black-tiled floors. Now devoid of pews, the room held an assortment of tables and chairs, covered with knitted blankets. And though some of the small panes of glass were missing in the windows and had been boarded up, those that were left cast multi-coloured light over the walls.

‘Okay. If she’s been around this way, someone will know. We’ve come from all parts of the north here.’ He swung his arm around to indicate the clusters of people. ‘Drink? Sal here…’ one of the girls, barefoot, wearing a bright blue kaftan and bouncing a baby on her hip, smiled at Mary. ‘Sal makes a brilliant nettle tea.’

Mary looked back at Peter, who was engrossed in conversation with Karl.

‘I think we should leave those two to chill out,’ Col said. ‘Nobody here speaks German so Karl will be in his element, having your husband to himself. Come on, then, let’s see what we can find out about Victoria.’

A line of laughing, children, each clutching the one in front, were following a tall red-headed man who sang tunelessly to the conga song: ‘Dah dah dah dah dah da da, dah dah dah dah dah da da, la la la lah.’ They waved at Mary as they passed her, kicking out their legs. She felt the ready burn at the back of her eyes; when had she been so easily moved to tears? Even as she thought it, she knew; she felt she was on the edge all the time.

If Col noticed he didn’t say anything. As they crossed the large room he introduced her to each person and showed them the photograph of Victoria. There were too many names for Mary to remember but she thanked them all, comforted by their warmth and genuine sympathy.

They stopped at a table where a woman was weaving on a frame loom. She looked up and smiled at them, quickly threading green woollen thread through the warp yarn. A tiny sleeping baby was in a sling on her back. She scrutinised the photograph of Victoria but shook her head, her eyes compassionate as she looked up at Mary. ‘Sorry, no.’

‘Thanks anyway, Nina,’ Col said.

Carrying the nettle tea, which, to her surprise, Mary found delicious, they went from table to table with no success. By the time Peter and Karl joined them she was having a second cup and sitting on a bench alongside Col and Sal.

‘No luck,’ Col said. ‘But we’ll keep a look out for her.’

‘Excuse me?’ It was the woman, Nina, who Mary had watched weaving. ‘I wonder if I could have another look at the photograph. I’ve just remembered something.’

Mary’s fingers trembled as she handed it to her. Is this it? She thought. Is this when we find out where our daughter is? She glanced at Peter, but his expression was unfathomable.

‘Hmm. I think I have seen her. Perhaps. Once.’ She looked puzzled. ‘I think it might have been at that festival on the other side of town, in summer; the one we took the kids to because they wanted to see Herman and the Hermits. Remember?’

Col nodded.

‘Well, I think she was there.’ The baby on Nina‘s back woke with a squeal. She unhitched the sling and, opening the front of her tie-dye shirt, put the baby to her breast.

‘No, she couldn’t have been.’ Mary smiled as the baby latched on and, snuffling, began to feed. ‘We live in Wales and we’ve only been here once this year.’

‘It was in the summer,’ Peter reminded her. ‘When we came with Richard.’

‘But she was with us all the time.’

‘Except for the one day,’ he said. ‘The day we took Richard to see the hospital.’

‘The day when she wanted to go to the shops in Manchester.’ Mary spoke slowly. ‘And we let her. And she was late home. There were grass-stains on her dress and legs. She said she’d fallen in the park in her hurry to get back to the house.’ She searched Nina’s face. ‘Are you sure it was her?’

‘Not really. But I noticed her because she looked out of place. She had a red mini-dress on and all the others with her wore jeans, or were in maxis, shawls, gear like that. I don’t know. If it was her, though, she was with a guy.’ She paused while she changed the baby to the other breast before adding, ‘I remember because the guy was sitting near us at first. Then he went away and when he came back with her he sat further away. I think the kids annoyed him. It didn’t take them long to get it pretty full on, if you know what I mean.’

Mary heard Peter’s sharp intake of breath. ‘A man? All the others?’ she whispered. ‘What others? Peter?’ The apprehension curdled inside her. She held her hand out to him. ‘Who would they be?’

‘She has no friends here,’ Peter said, holding Mary’s fingers between his. ‘You must be mistaken.’

Nina shrugged. ‘I’m probably wrong, then.’ She pondered for a moment. ‘Yes, I’m probably wrong and I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.’ Still holding the baby to her breast, she wandered away.

Mary pulled out the note and showed it to Col. It was creased and grubby from the number of times it had been handled in the squats they’d been in. ‘Does this mean anything to you? Do you know anyone called Seth?’

He frowned. ‘No, but I could ask around,’ he suggested.

‘Please.’ She watched Col going around the room, seeing the shaking of heads. Disappointment quenched the sudden revival of hope.

‘Sorry, nobody here knows anyone of that name,’ he said when he came back to them.

‘No,’ Peter said, ‘it is good that you asked. Thank you.’

Mary stood. She had to get out, to leave before she began crying. She shook hands with Col. ‘Thanks, anyway. And thank you for the tea, Sal, it was delicious.’

‘We will see you again?’ Karl asked Peter.

‘That is possible,’ he agreed. ‘But now we must go.’ He could see how distressed Mary was. He took her arm and, amid many cries of goodbyes and giggles from the children, they made their way outside.

The door was shut firmly behind them.

‘That’s it, then,’ Mary said. ‘That’s the last.’ She fingered the folded list of addresses Jackie had given them and shoved it into her coat pocket.

‘We can do no more, Liebling. Now we must wait—’

‘And hope nothing has happened to her.’

Peter curled his little finger around hers in the old familiar gesture. ‘Nothing bad has happened to our daughter, Mary. She left home because she wanted to explore the world beyond Llamroth. We must now wait for her to return. We must try to understand.’

‘I know.’ Mary looked back into the depths of the church. ‘I can’t believe anyone would want to evict those people. Col said this place was empty when they found it and now it’s immaculate. Lovely people. They couldn’t have been more welcoming.’

‘Once they knew who we were and what we wanted,’ Peter said. His smile was wry.

‘Well, I suppose they’ve had a lot of opposition to them being in there.’ Mary rested against him. ‘I couldn’t believe how clean and well-organised it all is. They must feel it’s their home now, and they want to protect themselves. Especially the children.’

‘Ja. Yes.’

Mary studied the notices in the porch. There was a rota of chores and child-minding duties pinned to the old board. ‘We should have known Victoria wasn’t here,’ she said. ‘She wouldn’t have liked all these rules one bit.’

They laughed. It was good to be able to. They linked arms and walked down the stone steps.