Chapter Nineteen
‘You mean you didn’t even notice that Elise did not come home from school yesterday?’
Hugh Partington faced his wife in the confines of her boudoir. He was white-faced with fury.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Selma replied. She looked and sounded defiant.
‘You didn’t wonder where she was when it was time for tea?’
‘She does not take tea with me these days. I have a meal in the nursery with Bertie. She prefers to eat a little later.’
‘Where?’
‘What do you mean, where?’
‘Where does our daughter eat her tea?’
‘In the dining room, I suppose.’
‘You suppose.’
Selma’s defiance crumbled. ‘Look, Hugh, I’m sorry. You can’t know how dreadful I feel. How ashamed.’
‘And so you should be. To have the servants tell us that our daughter is missing. That she did not sleep in her bed last night. That is truly shameful.’
A hint of defiance flared again in Selma’s eyes. ‘You didn’t notice either, did you?’
‘I’m not often home at teatime.’
‘No, but you used to make a point of talking to Elise when you did come home. Of asking her about school, or her friends, or the latest movies and stage shows. You haven’t done that so much lately, have you?’
Hugh was silent for a moment and then he said, ‘You’re right. We are both to blame. We have neglected her.’
‘It’s hardly neglect.’
‘Yes, it is. And it started when Bertie was born. All those years ago when you first asked me if we could adopt her I was afraid that this would happen. It seems she has packed her bags and run away.’
‘She hasn’t taken very much with her. She can’t be intending to go far. Perhaps she just wants to give us a fright.’
‘I hope you’re right. But we can’t just wait. She’s only sixteen years old. We have to find her.’
Selma took a step towards him. ‘You don’t think she could have gone to her sister, do you?’
‘To Helen? How would she know where to find her?’
‘It would be easy enough. She could have gone back to Newcastle and asked that dreadful woman, Mrs Roberts.’
‘Her aunt?’
‘Yes. If Helen isn’t with her she probably knows where she is.’
Hugh looked thoughtful. ‘It’s a possibility. Do you want me to go there?’
‘You? Go there yourself?’
‘Of course. She’s our daughter, isn’t she? I shall do what any father would do.’
‘What if you find her and she refuses to come back?’
‘Is that what you want, Selma? Would you be happy if Elise chose to leave us now?’
Selma dropped her head into her hands. ‘Of course not. And you must go. Straight away.’
‘I will. But promise me that you will tell no one what has happened. I’ve spoken to the servants and impressed on them that this must not become public knowledge. We don’t want scandalous stories in the press. For your sake as well as Elise’s. We don’t want anyone to think you’ve been – we’ve been – neglectful parents.’
Seeing how wretched Selma was, Hugh took her in his arms to comfort her. She burst into tears but he did not know whether they were tears of grief or tears of chagrin. ‘Calm yourself, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘You must show a cheerful face for Bertie. I’ll telephone the station and reserve a ticket but we’re only guessing that Elise has gone to find her sister. I’d better get some discreet enquiries started, too.’
‘A detective agency?’
‘That’s right.’
Selma straightened up, took a step back and shook her head. ‘Oh, Hugh, how could she do this? After everything we’ve done for her, how could she be so ungrateful?’
Hugh went downstairs to his study to make the necessary phone calls but before he had even dialled the first number there was a knock at the door and a maidservant entered.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,’ she said, ‘but there’s a Mrs Chapman and her daughter to see you. Mrs Chapman says it’s urgent.’
He replaced the receiver. He did not need to be told what this would be about. ‘Show them in,’ he said. ‘And please go upstairs and ask Mrs Partington to join us.’
‘Eloped? You think she has eloped? But that’s preposterous!’ Hugh said.
Brenda Chapman bridled. ‘Preposterous or not, I believe that’s what has happened and I thought it my duty to come and tell you.’
Mrs Chapman and her daughter Shirley sat facing Hugh across his desk. Selma was sitting beside him but she shrank away, almost as if she did not want to be there at all.
‘On what do you base this assumption?’
‘Tell them, Shirley.’
Hugh thought the girl looked excited. She was enjoying the drama of the situation.
‘She’s been meeting Perry Wallace after school.’
Selma gasped. ‘Perry Wallace!’
Hugh felt a mixture of shock and anger.
Shirley, looking gratified by the dismay she had caused, continued, ‘She thought nobody knew but she was acting strangely so I followed her a couple of times. She was so besotted with him that she didn’t notice.’
‘Why didn’t you tell someone straight away?’ Hugh asked.
‘That’s what I said,’ Darlene Chapman agreed.
‘Well, you don’t snitch on friends, do you? And besides, to tell the truth I thought it was all fairly harmless.’
‘Harmless?’ Hugh said. ‘That unprincipled ne’er-do-well meeting my daughter? I don’t call that harmless.’
Shirley looked uneasy. ‘I simply didn’t think that she would take him seriously. I mean, who would? Everybody knows what Perry is like!’
‘Except Elise, it seems,’ Selma said. ‘Who would have thought she could be so stupid?’
‘So why did you decide to tell your mother now?’ Hugh asked.
‘My brother Tom is home on leave.’
‘What does that have to do with it?’ Hugh asked impatiently.
‘He told me how boring it’s going to be now that Perry has left town. Then Elise didn’t come to school today. I put two and two together. If I’m right I thought you should know straight away. Elise is my friend. I don’t want any harm to come to her. I want you to do something about it before . . . before it’s too late.’
Despite Shirley’s revelations and the assumption that Elise and Perry had fled to Gretna Green, Hugh went to Newcastle. He was hoping against hope that Selma’s first instinct had been right and that Elise, unhappy with the situation at home, had gone to seek out her sister. It was too late to call on anyone when he arrived so he booked into the Station Hotel and called on Mrs Roberts first thing the next morning. A smiling middle-aged woman opened the door and Hugh reflected that Helen’s aunt did not appear to be the unpleasant harridan of Selma’s memory.
‘Who shall I say is calling?’ she asked and Hugh realized his mistake. This woman was a servant of some kind. The maid or a housekeeper, perhaps.
Hugh gave his name and waited in the hallway while the woman knocked and entered the front parlour. When she returned she looked anxious.
‘I’m sorry to ask you this, sir, but there isn’t any problem, is there? I mean, Mrs Roberts is still quite poorly, you know.’
‘I didn’t know she was ill. I’m sorry. And I just want to ask her a few questions. I promise you I’ll not cause trouble.’
The woman looked at him speculatively for a moment. She must have been partly reassured by his manner because she said, ‘Very well. I’m Mrs Sutton, Mrs Roberts’ housekeeper. Would you mind if I stayed in the room with you?’
‘Not at all.’ Hugh thought how fortunate Helen’s aunt was to have such a respectful servant.
Mrs Sutton ushered him into a brightly cheerful room. There was a dried flower arrangement in the hearth and pots of geraniums on a table by the window. The curtains were tied back as far as possible to allow the sunlight to flood in. Mrs Roberts sat in one of the fireside chairs and she looked up at him anxiously. She was a large woman with flabby cheeks.
‘What is it?’ she asked without waiting for him to say anything. ‘Have the boys caused trouble again?’
‘The boys?’ he asked. Hugh had completely forgotten about Elise’s brothers who had been found places in Haven House.
‘The twins. Have you found out why they ran away?’
‘No, it’s not that. May I sit down?’
‘Please do.’ The answer came from the housekeeper, who sat down on a chair near the door. Jane Roberts continued to stare at him anxiously.
‘It’s not . . .’ she faltered, ‘it’s not Helen again, is it? She hasn’t been trying to get in touch with Elsie after all these years? If so, I’ve had nothing to do with it, I assure you.’
Hugh shook his head. ‘No, she hasn’t. It’s the other way round, actually. I need to know if Elise has tried to get in touch with Helen.’
‘Elise? Elsie? How would I know? Helen doesn’t live here any more. She moved out years ago.’
‘But you’ll have her address?’
‘No, I don’t.’
Hugh studied the woman’s truculent expression. Was she lying? Surely she would know where her own niece was living? He felt helpless. Even if she did know, there was no way he could force the information out of her. He wondered if her attitude was the result of Selma’s last meeting with her. By all accounts it had not been very pleasant. Was this to have been a wasted journey?
‘Well, then,’ he said as he rose to his feet reluctantly. ‘I suppose I’d better go. But if you do hear anything from Helen or Elise I’d be grateful if you’d let me know. I’ll leave you my card.’
Mrs Roberts made no attempt to take the card he was holding out so he put it on the mantelpiece. Mrs Sutton had already opened the door for him when he paused. Should he offer Mrs Roberts money in exchange for the information she might have? He was pretty sure Selma would have done. He turned to face her and was shocked to see that she had begun to cry.
‘I’ve upset you. I’m so sorry.’
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Helen is a good girl,’ she said. ‘She came home to fix things for me even though I didn’t deserve it. She didn’t leave me her address. She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and it’s my loss. And if Elsie wants to find Helen again then good luck to her. I should never have taken your wife’s money. I should never have allowed those children to be parted.’
‘Please go now, Mr Partington,’ Mrs Sutton said. ‘And don’t worry. I’ll look after her.’
The taxi was waiting outside and Hugh got in and asked to be taken back to the hotel. He had achieved nothing here, but there was one more thing he must do before leaving Newcastle. He would ask the solicitor, Arthur Garwood, to engage an agent who would conduct more thorough enquiries.
However, he believed Jane Roberts was speaking the truth and that she did not know where her own niece lived. It had not occurred to him – why should it? – that someone else in the household might have the information.
Margery Sutton watched the taxi drive away then closed the door and went to make a pot of tea. After settling Mrs Roberts she went back to the kitchen and poured a cup for herself.
He didn’t ask me so I didn’t have to lie to him, she thought. For Margery Sutton had Helen’s address. She wrote to her regularly to give her news about her aunt’s slow progress back to good health. Helen had never told her anything about her twin brothers or that she had a sister called either Elise or Elsie, so Margery reckoned that this was private information. Helen obviously doesn’t want anyone to know, she thought. And if that’s what Helen wants, God bless her, as far as I’m concerned that’s the way it shall be.
Hugh stayed in Newcastle one more night. He had talks with Garwood and also went to the family house in Jesmond. It was years since they had been here. Selma had been shocked to discover that Helen had been watching Elise and they had fled to London. Selma was adamant that Elise should be kept away from her home town and any memories it might evoke.
After inspecting the house where he had lived as a boy and in which he had always been happy, he went to call on his old friend who had been Selma’s doctor, Charles Harris. After dinner with the family, Charles took him into his study so that they could talk in private. He poured them each a generous glass of brandy and they lit cigars.
‘What’s up?’ Charles said.
Hugh told him.
‘I’m very sorry,’ Charles said, ‘but it does look as though there might be an elopement here. What next? Gretna Green?’
‘No, I’ll go back to London in the morning. I don’t want to leave Selma on her own for too long.’
‘Is she taking this badly?’
‘She is, but . . .’
‘But what?’
‘I’m not sure what it is that is upsetting her.’
‘Surely she’s upset because your daughter is missing.’
Hugh looked uncomfortable. ‘Her relationship with Elise has not been the same since Bertie was born.’
‘Aah.’
‘At first I thought it was the kind of thing that happened when children become adolescents.’
‘The awkward age? That could be the case.’
‘But if anyone was the awkward one it has been Selma, not Elise. She . . . she refers to Bertie as “our own” child.’
‘And to Elise?’
‘She simply doesn’t refer to her.’
‘So the poor girl has found comfort in the arms of a handsome young suitor?’
‘An unscrupulous young fortune hunter!’
‘And you believe they have gone to Scotland to get married?’
‘I do, and before I left London I arranged for a detective agency to send someone there straight away. They’ll have to live there for twenty-one days before they can get married. I know the local housewives make good money by providing secret accommodation for runaways, but I’m determined to find them and stop this marriage from taking place.’
‘No matter what has already happened?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘By your account he is an unscrupulous rake and Elise . . . Elise is a vulnerable young girl.’
Hugh stared ahead miserably. ‘If he has seduced her I just don’t know what I will do.’
‘She will need her mother.’
‘I know, and I’m not sure any more if Selma will want anything to do with her.’
When Hugh arrived home the next day the first question he asked was whether there had been any news from the detective agency.
‘Only to report that they haven’t found them,’ Selma replied.
‘Well, they must keep looking. They will be there somewhere. Probably hidden in some farmer’s cottage until the wedding day.’
‘What will you do if they are found?’ Selma asked.
‘Go and bring her back.’
‘And if she doesn’t want to come?’
‘She will. I’ll offer him money and you’ll see how quickly he will fall out of love with her.’
‘Regardless of whether they are married or not, what if it is already too late?’
Remembering his conversation with Charles, Hugh knew exactly what she meant. ‘She would need her mother.’
‘Her mother is dead.’
Hugh was shocked into silence.
‘That girl has shown us no gratitude whatsoever,’ Selma said, ‘and as far as I am concerned Perry Wallace is welcome to her.’
The shadows of the trees were already creeping across the lawn but Patricia was reluctant to leave the garden and go back into the house. The day had been exceptionally hot and she was more tired than she liked to admit.
‘Let’s sit here until she wakes up,’ she said.
‘But isn’t it time for her bottle?’ Matthew asked his sister with a brief nod towards the sleeping baby in the pram.
‘I don’t believe in all that. I’ll feed her when she asks for it and the nurse and her timetable can go hang.’
Matthew reflected that since the birth of baby Gillian, his sister had changed. Once organized and dutiful, she had become more relaxed. Motherhood suited her – softened her somehow.
‘You will stay and have supper with us?’ Patricia asked. ‘Not that it’s anything special. Just cold cuts and salad and a big pan of boiled potatoes to keep George happy.’
‘I’d love to. What time will he be home?’
‘About nine o’clock. He’ll be off duty when the night shift starts.’
Matthew, slightly uncomfortable in the canvas chair, eased his shoulders and stretched out his legs, trying not to obsess about the fact that one of them didn’t stretch as far as the other.
‘You know, I’ve never really understood what George does there in the bowels of Broadcasting House, but it sounds frightfully complicated,’ he said.
‘It is, to ordinary mortals like you and me,’ Patricia replied, ‘but I’ll try and explain a little. At the moment his job is to sit in a bay with headphones and a telephone and receive reports from cities like Berlin, Paris, Rome, Madrid and other places in Europe. These reports are fed to a recording channel before being used by news programmes.’
‘Interesting,’ Matthew said.
‘Yes, it is. There’s a lot of information coming in. Worrying information. Spain, for example, is in turmoil.’
‘The civil war.’
‘That’s right. George reckons he’s as well informed as any reporter.’
Matthew remained silent.
‘You’d like to be there, wouldn’t you?’ his sister said. ‘You miss the days of being a foreign correspondent.’
‘Maybe.’
‘But instead of going somewhere exotic you’re setting off tomorrow morning on a tour of provincial cities to investigate the latest crooked betting rumours. Now that sounds complicated to me!’
‘It isn’t really. The bad lads are trying to avoid detection by spreading their bets countrywide. The bookies suspect something big is going to come off.’
‘Something big? Explain.’
‘For example, if four dogs are doped in one race leaving an outsider to come first with good odds, the winnings could top one hundred thousand pounds.’
‘Substantial,’ Patricia said. ‘How do you know which race will be targeted? I mean, there must be dozens of dog tracks.’
‘There are. And you don’t know. But I have my suspicions.’
Patricia shivered and pulled her cardigan round her shoulders.
‘Are you cold?’ Matthew asked. ‘Shall we go inside now?’
‘I’m not cold. It just came home to me that you might be dealing with dangerous men. Perhaps you’d be better off going to Spain after all!’
She had tried to make a joke of it but Matthew could see that his sister was concerned for him and he was touched. Also he didn’t want her to be upset, not so soon after the birth of her baby.
‘Right this moment there’s nothing I’d like better than a cup of tea. Be a sport and go in and put the kettle on. I’ll put the chairs in the shed and I’ll wheel the pram in.’
‘Don’t wake her up!’
‘I’ll try not to. But if she does wake up how about letting her Uncle Matthew give her her bottle?’
A short while later Matthew was seated at his sister’s kitchen table holding his new niece in his arms and trying not to show how amazed and delighted he was that the child had settled and was quite content to let him feed her.
Patricia made a pot of tea and put the milk, the sugar and the cups on the table, but she was strangely silent.
‘What is it?’ Matthew asked eventually.
‘Why haven’t you brought Helen to see the baby?’
The question took him by surprise. He had known from the beginning that Patricia didn’t entirely approve of his relationship with Helen.
‘Mum was quite strict about that. She said no visitors when you came home from the nursing home.’
‘She only meant until we’d settled into a routine. Matthew, you haven’t even mentioned Helen lately. Is something wrong?’
‘Not really.’
‘What kind of an answer is that?’
‘Helen went away on holiday.’
‘Why shouldn’t she?’
‘She didn’t tell me she was going to. I found out when I called at the restaurant to see her and Marina informed me that she’d gone. I went to her flat but she’d left no message.’
‘Just up and off?’
‘That’s right, and I have no idea where she went or why she went without telling me.’
‘Had you quarrelled?’
‘No. At least I don’t think so.’
‘Come on! A quarrel is a quarrel! You shouldn’t have to think about it.’
‘Hush. You’re disturbing your daughter.’
Gillian had stopped sucking and her eyes were wide open. She gave the impression of being surrprised and offended. Matthew and Patricia kept quiet and Gillian started feeding again. They sighed with relief.
‘We haven’t exactly quarrelled,’ Matthew said after a while. ‘But I know she’s been getting impatient with me.’
‘And actually I don’t blame her. Matthew, you’re going to lose her if you don’t walk her up the aisle very soon.’
‘The irony is that I’d already realized that. Although it took a good friend of hers to point it out. I don’t want to lose her. I love her very much and I was all prepared to go down on one knee if necessary and beg her to marry me right now. But maybe I’ve left it too late. Maybe she’s just got sick of waiting.’
‘For goodness’ sake don’t give up so easily.’
Matthew looked at her in surprise. ‘You would like me to marry Helen?’
‘Yes, I would. I admit that I didn’t take to her at first and I still believe that there’s a side of her I don’t know about, as well as things she isn’t telling us – even you – but when I see you together I can only see how happy she makes you. And when you’re alone like this you’re a pain in the posterior. Go ahead and woo the girl properly, Matthew. You have your sister’s blessing.’
