37. The Local Constabulary

At Crow Thorn Grange, Sir Percival had sent Olive packing, dismissing her with heinous threats ringing in her ears if she should ever speak to anybody of what had taken place during the time of her employment there. Percival had dismantled the cot that Bertie had used and instructed the gardener to burn it immediately. With all evidence removed, he began to breathe easier.

One thing that comforted him was his standing with the local constabulary, with whom he’d always had a good working relationship. As County Sheriff, he was a well-respected member of the community; he was quite confident that the police would favour his side of the story, rather than listen to a bunch of hormonal pregnant women with an axe to grind. He would discreetly slip the officers (with whom he was on first-name terms) a fiver plus a fine bottle of malt whisky apiece. With luck and careful handling, they might just get away with it – IF Matron worked with him rather than against him.

In Ada’s absence, Sister Ann had a very disturbing conversation with her superior in the Reverend Mother’s panelled oak study.

‘I’ve already heard Sister Ada’s side of this tragic, sorry story, but I’d like to hear yours too,’ she began. ‘When do you think all this ghastly business started?’ the Reverend Mother asked.

‘Really,’ Sister Ann answered slowly, ‘I think it started when Father Ben was removed from office; things started to slip and Matron started behaving erratically. Whenever Ada questioned her judgement, Matron always fobbed her off with some excuse. None of it felt right,’ she said, as she recalled the recent sequence of events. ‘Ada and I had our suspicions, but we only knew for sure on Christmas Eve, when we heard from Emily and Gloria that Heather had been taken to Crow Thorn Grange instead of to the cottage hospital. Once Dr Jones was caught handing Heather over to Sir Percival, and Gloria overheard the woman who was supposedly looking after Bertie talking about his death, it didn’t take long to realize that something was very wrong indeed.’

‘Holy Mother!’ the Reverend Mother exclaimed as she crossed herself. ‘So you think the little mites were all taken to the Grange?’

‘I think that must have been what happened – well, it certainly happened to little Heather.’

‘But why did they need to be taken to the Grange?’ the Reverend Mother said, puzzled. ‘Adoptive families usually pick up from Mary Vale.’

She paused to stare out of the convent window that gave a view on to the chapel and the small graveyard. ‘Hmm,’ she murmured. ‘And all of this took place after the very surprising allegations against Father Ben, when Sir Percival was appointed to take over the business of Mary Vale’s adoptions?’

‘Yes – and, as for Father Ben, I never did believe a word about his behaving badly. The man’s a saint. And he kept good records of all the babies born at the Home, and the names and addresses of their adoptive families,’ Sister Ann reminded her. ‘Father Ben was scrupulous with the details; everything was open and above board.’

‘Knowing what Ada told me about Sir Percival, I’d say there’s money behind this dreadful business,’ the Reverend Mother announced. ‘However, Sister, this matter falls squarely on our shoulders: we run a mother and baby home, not a baby-snatching service,’ she continued guiltily. ‘I agree with you. None of this would have happened under Father Ben’s good and loyal care. We’ve been duped, Sister, roundly duped, and we must make it our business to put things right; and, when we’ve done that, to clear our convent’s good name.’

Almost in tears, Sister Ann muttered her reply, ‘Absolutely, Reverend Mother. What happened at Mary Vale is a sin against God!’

In Windermere Police Station, with Jeannie at her side, Ada gave a full report on all the proceedings she and the others had witnessed at Mary Vale and at Crow Thorn Grange too.

‘There are at least four other witnesses I can call on,’ she told the officer in charge, and gave him their names. ‘And, hopefully, once I’m back at Mary Vale I’ll be able to furnish you with more information.’

After assuring Ada that he would immediately link up with his colleagues in Grange, the officer congratulated Ada, shaking her firmly by the hand.

‘I promise we’ll do everything we can, Miss.’ With a wink, he added, ‘It’s quite an ordeal walking over the fells with a new-born baby in the snow.’

‘My sentiments entirely!’ Jeannie exclaimed.

‘You’re an impressive woman to do what you did, Miss,’ the officer said with genuine admiration, which made Ada blush to the roots of her auburn hair.

‘It seemed the only thing to do,’ she responded modestly. ‘All I could think of was that Heather needed to be safe – that’s what drove me on.’

Jeannie gave Ada a huge hug. ‘Thanks to you, darling girl, Heather’s very safe now.’

After saying an emotional farewell to Isla, who had plans for all the girls to meet up once Emily was back on her feet, Ada turned to Heather, whom she’d grown to love very much.

‘Shall we go fell-walking again?’ she asked, softly kissing the baby’s pink fingertips. ‘I’ll take you over Hamps Fell when you’re a bit bigger,’ she promised. ‘And I’ll buy you your first pair of fell-walking boots too.’

After giving mother and baby a final kiss, Ada walked with Jeannie to the station, where she managed to get on a crowded train bound for Lancaster; there, she would be able to pick up another train for Grange.

‘The line’s only just been cleared, so it’s chocka on board,’ the porter warned.

‘I’d be happy to stand all the way,’ Ada said to Jeannie with a laugh. ‘If I don’t get back to Mary Vale soon, I know Sister Ann will have every rescue party in the North-West combing the fells for me.’

‘How can we ever thank you enough?’ Jeannie said, as she clung on to Ada. ‘My blood runs cold when I think of what might have happened to my little granddaughter.’

‘Seeing Heather safe is all I wanted,’ Ada replied. ‘Though there is one thing I would ask, Jeannie. Be patient with Isla: she’ll need time to come to the right decision about her baby.’

‘Of course,’ Jeannie answered staunchly. ‘But I have to admit that, if she does decide to put Heather up for adoption again, I just might adopt the darling child myself!’

Percival’s confident hopes that his cordial relations with the local police would save him were quashed when Grange Police Station sent over a couple of officers who showed not the slightest interest in Percy’s smarmy name-dropping.

‘Excuse me!’ he roared as they frog-marched him out of his comfortable home in order to interview him at the station. ‘I have friends in high places. You’ll live to regret this,’ he threatened, as they ducked his head down in order to push him into the back seat of the police car.

‘I don’t hold out much hope on that, Sir,’ said the police officer who was handcuffed to Percival. ‘Not from what we’ve heard.’

Percival and Matron were questioned separately several times and then together. Initially, they stuck to the same story: that they were doing friends a favour, fast-tracking their cases in order to secure an adopted child for them sooner rather than later. As the weight of damning circumstantial evidence provided by the residents of Mary Vale overwhelmed them, they both panicked (the holes in their story got bigger and bigger) and finally resorted to blaming each other. Matron’s resolve eventually broke down entirely and she confessed that the children’s files were locked away in her desk in her private suite at Mary Vale. She was removed from her post and asked to leave the Home immediately, while Percival went into hiding after the newspaper headlines condemned him as ‘A Baby-Snatcher’ and ‘A Wicked and Unscrupulous Man!’ With no money to pay for his Mayfair flat and champagne-style London life, Marigold quickly moved on to pastures new, while poor, long-suffering Lady Percival sued for a divorce.

‘If Percival gets banged up behind bars, Lady Percival might well hold on to Crow Thorn Grange, which is by rights her ancestral home,’ the Reverend Mother told Sister Ann; the older nun had trouble wiping a smirk of deep satisfaction from her face. ‘Now wouldn’t that be God working in deep and mysterious ways?’ she remarked with a wicked smile.

The Reverend Mother was further gratified when Shirley, accompanied by Sister Ann, appeared in her office, eager to explain the role she’d played in the recent dramatic events in her own words. After hearing of Shirley’s involvement and the hideous price she’d paid for it, the Reverend Mother reached across her desk to grip Shirley’s hand.

‘You suffered greatly, child,’ she said with tears in her eyes.

But Shirley astounded her by answering with a smile that bordered on beatific. ‘But God took care of me, God led me back to you – and Mary Vale.’

‘Indeed, praise be,’ the Reverend Mother replied. ‘Now answer me honestly, dear girl: are you brave enough to say what you’ve just told me in a court of law?’

Little as she was, Shirley stood up tall and straight, and, sticking out her chin, she answered boldly, ‘I’m not afraid, Reverend Mother. As God’s my judge, I will speak out in a court of law against Matron and Sir Percival – neither of them can hurt me any more.’