Petronella was storming down Sycamore Street in a rage, with Percy running behind her trying to catch up. Petronella was in a foul fit of anger. How dare these people take our children away! She was thinking to herself. I’ll give them my right mind.
She knocked on the door forcefully. And again. Then the door was opened quite suddenly while Petronella still had her hand on the knocker. This made her fall forwards and Wilfred was quick enough to catch her and put her back on her feet. Then he stood there waiting for her to speak. What did these two want?
“Good afternoon,” she said to him, trying hard to hide her temper.
“Good afternoon. How can I help you?” Wilfred said politely.
“I’m looking for the daughter of a friend of mine. Her name’s Elizabeth Tirel. Everyone calls her Betty. She came here with her brother, Jack, and was never seen again. Her parents are beside themselves with worry,” Petronella said.
“Yes, that’s right they came looking for a boy called Adrian. He used to live here. The Simnel Family moved out then I moved in. Well, do come in,” Wilfred said.
Percy was looking around the house for anything suspicious. Maybe a clue of some sort. They stood in the hallway for a moment, the only noise was that of the grandfather clock with its loud tick-tock. Percy broke the silence:
“Do you mind if I take a stroll in your garden, sir?”
“No, no, of course not. But I must say that I don’t like all these people coming round here poking their noses into my private property. I didn’t expect all this coming and going when I moved here. Wanted a quiet life...” and Wilfred went on mumbling for a another minute or so, while he walked to the kitchen. Petronella followed him.
“Do take a seat,” Wilfred said to her.
Petronella had sat down and Wilfred handed her a mug of tea.
“Biscuit?” he said.
“Oh, yes, please. May I ask you where you used to live before?” Petronella said.
“I lived with my son and his wife, but they will be moving as well soon. They didn’t want me to go with them to their new house so my son bought me this cottage,” Wilfred said.
Wilfred dunked a biscuit in his tea.
“Your son must be a very nice person, Mr... eh, Mr...” said Petronella, trying to get Wilfred’s family name.
“Ormerod. My name’s Wilfred Ormerod.”
By now Petronella’s jaw had dropped. There she sat with her mouth wide open. Not a pretty sight. As soon as she realised how stupid she must have looked, gaping like that, she shook her head three times then closed her mouth.
“Sorry, but are you any relation of Judge Ormerod’s?”
“Yes, that’s right. I am his father. You see, he is selling his old house because he’ll be moving into the Castle on the hill. Duke Merrick’s Castle. My son will be the next Duke of Westshire. He’s got it all planned,” Wilfred said.
“Has he really? Now wouldn’t it be a pity if someone spoiled his plans?” she said.
“Oh, yes. A great pity. If my son wants something, he gets it. He’s just like his mother...”
“Sometimes sons are just like their mothers,” Petronella said, just to say something. She didn’t know anything about this, though.
“Yes,” Wilfred answered. “She ran away, you know. She just upped and went leaving me to bring up my son on my own. Never heard of her since...”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Petronella said. “It must have been difficult for you... Now, just to get back to Betty. Do you know anything about her disappearance?”
“No, I’ve no idea. These two youngsters came here looking for Adrian Simnel and the next thing I know, one of them’s lost and the other was looking for her...”
Petronella believed him. She didn’t think that this gentle old codger could be mixed up in kidnapping children. No. It was his son who had planted his father in this house for some reason. There was no need to tell Wilfred about this. She was now friendly with him and wanted to keep it that way.
“Wilfred, do you mind if we join Percy in the garden?”
“Of course not. After you,” Wilfred said.
“It’s quite wild, isn’t it?” Petronella said, looking at the untidy garden.
“It was like this when I came to live here. At my age my knees don’t bend anymore. I can’t do any gardening.”
Petronella looked at the garden full of tall weeds, brambles and thick undergrowth.
She called out to Percy. But no reply came. She called out again. No answer. No Percy.
“Where could he have got to?” Wilfred said.
“This is so strange,” Petronella replied, “Percy wouldn’t go off without me, without saying anything...”
“Youngsters, these days. In my days, when I was a boy, we had manners...”
“No, no,” Petronella said. “He’s a nice boy, he’s got to be here somewhere. Can I take a look?”
“Of course you can,” he said.
But Petronella did not find Percy. She hadn’t looked properly behind the giant mushroom where there was an entrance to a tunnel, down which Percy had disappeared. Petronella thought he must have gone back to Charis Cottage without telling her. Not like him at all to do that.