The office was as dark as Anthony had expected when he had imagined it after finding the address in the newspaper. He had been shown in by an elderly secretary, who had trouble climbing the stairs to the first-floor office in her heels. There were blinds on the windows that tilted down, directing the sunlight towards the floor, as if to divert prying eyes. Anthony understood why; he had made sure that no one had seen him between the house and this office, he didn’t want anyone to know he was here in a private investigator’s office. Especially Ruth, as it was because of her that he was here. God knows what she would make of it if she found out, but the idea wouldn’t leave him after he had seen the advert in one of her newspapers that she had left on the kitchen table.
‘Please sit, mister… ?’ A plump man offered Anthony a hand and he shook it. The thought of using a false name flashed through Anthony’s head, but if this man was really worth the money then he would find out Anthony’s real name in no time anyway. What difference did it make?
‘Lloyd. Thank you.’ He took the seat on the opposite side of the desk as Mr Crane slumped into his own high-backed chair. It dwarfed the man and made him look wider than he was tall. His beady eyes never stopped searching the room, never quite resting on Anthony but taking in everything around him. Anthony wondered whether Crane had taken something, but he put it down to his inquisitive manner. The man was an investigator after all.
‘How can I help you?’ He leant forward and steepled his fingers in front of his face. It was supposed to give the impression of curiosity, but the piles of papers on the desk’s surface gave him a lopsided appearance, which was more comical than careful. Anthony stifled a smile. Crane had a good reputation, what did it matter if the man was disorganised and frankly a mess? As long as he got the end result, that was all that was important.
‘I need help finding…’ He didn’t know why he hesitated. Was it because he felt like he was betraying Ruth’s trust by enquiring about her and George? Or did he not really think it was a good idea to go down this route? Crane pulled a crumpled piece of paper towards himself and gripped a pencil between his fingers as one might hold a cigar. ‘I need help finding information about a woman and her child. A young boy to be precise.’
Crane scribbled notes furiously as if he was taking dictation.
‘An illegitimate child?’ he asked, looking up suddenly. ‘How discreet do you need me to be? The usual thing, checking to see whether they have any claim to inheritance. I’ve done that sort of thing many a time before.’
Anthony’s temperature rose and he mopped his brow with a handkerchief he pulled from his jacket pocket. How dare Crane? Coming here had been a mistake after all, and Anthony almost stood, but he felt committed now. He couldn’t escape what he had chosen to do, otherwise the questions would gnaw at him. What harm could it do to find out more about Ruth? Her background, where George was. He had tried to ask her himself, but she had always changed the subject. He had intended to enquire about Anna too, but Crane had derailed the conversation.
‘No, not at all,’ he said, biting down his temper. ‘Nothing like that. The boy has been evacuated, but I’m not sure where.’
‘Evacuated? Hmmm.’ Crane was silent for a long moment that seemed to drag on as the sun disappeared behind the blinds, plunging them into further gloom. ‘And is the child your son? The mother won’t tell you where he is and you wish to find him?’
‘It’s not that, no. But it’s complicated. I’m sorry, it’s difficult to explain and would take rather a long time. Longer perhaps than it would for you to find the information. There’s also a young girl we rescued from the streets, the only name we have is “Anna”.’
‘I understand completely, Mr Lloyd. Luckily for you, I deal in complicated. And may I ask, what is your relationship to the woman?’
Anthony wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t know the answer himself. Why had he come? How exactly did he expect this to help things? He should have been more direct with Ruth, asked her what was going on.
‘We, err, we live together.’
Crane’s beady eyes looked at him. They stayed still for an awkwardly long moment, like he was trying to fully understand Anthony’s answer.
‘I see,’ he said, at length, in the kind of tone someone used when they were judging. ‘I don’t usually take on domestic cases, but as you say this one is a lot more complex. What’s the boy’s full name? And what other descriptors can you give me to identify them? Do you know anything about when he was evacuated that may help me? Any details that you can give me, Mr Lloyd, will help to expedite this case.’
Anthony didn’t know why he hadn’t thought that Crane would want George’s full name, but for some reason he was reluctant to give it to him. It was as if he was betraying the boy, giving him up to an enemy. All Anthony wanted was information, he didn’t want to lead Crane to Ruth or George and he didn’t want the investigator to speak to Ruth about this. He expected the man to be subtle, but Ruth was an intelligent woman and she would notice someone following her. Anthony struggled in his seat, wanting to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was too hot in that room. How could a man like Crane stand it? Anthony’s hands balled around the arms of the chair to support him.
‘I think this may have been a mistake.’ He rose, knocking over a pile of papers at the foot of the desk. ‘I apologise.’
‘It’s quite all right, Mr Lloyd.’ Crane stared at him. ‘Please do sit down. It’s quite ordinary to have doubts about engaging the services of someone such as myself, but we might as well discuss how I can be of help. Take as much time as you need, my next appointment can wait.’
‘No, no, no. It’s not right. I’ve said too much. I shouldn’t have come here.’
Crane stood as Anthony backed towards the door. He started to move around the desk, but Anthony held up his hands as if he was trying to ward off an attacker.
‘Please forget everything I’ve said.’
‘It’s clearly been a traumatic experience. When you’ve had a chance to think about it I would be happy to help. I’ll make sure the boy is safe.’
Anthony almost ran out of the door, without saying a further word. He half expected Crane to follow him. There was something about the man, despite his size, that was oppressive. He was used to people taking his word and unused to disagreement, or he made sure that those who disagreed with him would not do so again. Anthony had seldom had dealings with such men before, and he knew then that he wouldn’t be back. Despite what Crane thought.
Anthony had made a terrible mistake, but he hoped he had stalled it enough that it didn’t come back to bite him. He had come to care about Ruth deeply, and he did not want to hurt her. As he pushed open the front door of the building past the protesting secretary, the daylight hit him like a spear. Blinded, he put his arm above his eyes to shield them and stumbled along the street, trying to regain his composure. He didn’t know where he was going, but somehow he would find his path. He had to, for Ruth and George’s sake.