‘I’ve seen your lady friend,’ said Miss Spragg to Jack, the next time she met him.
He gave just the reaction she had hoped for. ‘Where?’ said he, trying not to look as if he wanted to know too much, but failing entirely upon showing that he knew whom she meant. Miss Spragg smiled hideously at him, baring a graveyard of rotten pegs, making him want a stiff drink.
She had asked Jack about the charming companion he had brought so carelessly to her private residence in Blight Street; he was not forthcoming, of course (being loyal to Grace in that particular at least), but she hardly needed him to be. There had been a sighting of the family near Maidenhead yesterday; she’d had word of it this morning, and was quite sure the information was reliable.
‘I’m sure there must be something you could help me with in return,’ she said. ‘There are a great many services a fine lad like yourself could offer a poor old woman such as me, all alone in the world.’
It is true to say that Miss Spragg has wide-ranging interests of a business kind. It is certain that many of these involve dirty work indeed. She has a good deal of use for a man like Jack, rough and ready, not too curious.
Maidie Robertson was thrilled to see the Hammers again and ran down the garden in her apron.
‘We came back!’ exclaimed Daisy, as if it was a surprise to her as well.
‘Yes, here you are!’ beamed Mrs Robertson. ‘Come indoors and eat something.’
When the children had gone to play–‘Stay in the garden.’ ‘Yes, Ma.’ ‘Away from the river!’–the women sat down to talk.
‘Now, dear, what are you up to?’ said Mrs Robertson, sharp as a new pin.
So Grace recounted the whole story, omitting not the slightest relevant detail. ‘And what do you plan to do now, dear?’
‘Go back to London.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘To get shot of the necklace.’
‘What will you do with the children?’
‘Put them with a family I know in Harrow.’
‘I think it would be best to leave them here with me.’
Grace thought this over in less than a minute, looking at Maidie Robertson. Then she gave her Landlord Nelson’s money. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Stay away from the Orkney Arms down the river.’
‘Good luck, dear.’
And so it was that Grace Hammer left her children, who didn’t seem to mind much, in the care of kindly Maidie Robertson early the next morning, kissing them on the way out, mist clinging round the boat as she glided across the water, oars lapping stealthily.
Two miles away, as the crow flies, in the charming Norman village of Halliford, Miss Emmeline Spragg was enjoying her breakfast alone in a private room at the Plough Inn. Chewing on her bacon she contemplated the day before her. When the plate was clean she pushed it aside and smoothed a tattered map upon the tablecloth. She reckoned on taking the towpath to Shepperton, to call in on the landlord of the Anchor, before cutting across country and up towards Maidenhead.
Grace had not been without the company of any, or all, of her children since the day she had had Charlie, and although she felt a pang of emptiness at the thought of them, she was surprised to find herself content to be alone. It was novel indeed to be so free, with no little voices asking for things, and she thought guiltily that she might not miss them as much as she had imagined–at least, not all of the time. A lonely moorhen regarded her, floating along like a tiny coracle a cautious distance away. With her mouth full of ham sandwich Grace’s thoughts turned to London: shifting the necklace was a tall order in two weeks, never mind two days, which was all she planned to stay, three at the most. She must make some house calls. Suddenly the inside of her head seemed a vast and unfathomable place. Perhaps he was gone already. Perhaps she was getting in a knot about nothing. The moorhen watched her glide away, shrinking into the distance.
She made good progress, though the river twisted after a mile, writhing round innumerable bends. The boat was a lot bloody lighter without all the family but there was no Charlie to take a turn, so she tired after a few miles and slowed down, going with the current. As she drifted along, lost in thought, a ragged figure on horseback made its way along the towpath, coming towards her. The horse slowed and stopped. Grace recovered her arms and started to row again. As the boat slid by, two goblin eyes watched it go from behind a great bank of nettles.
Miss Spragg smiled grotesquely to herself, rubbing her spiny chin with glee. What a chance sighting! Grace Hammer, London bound. She noted with particular interest that her family were not with her. After a moment’s pause she urged her horse on down the path, towards Maidenhead.