Chapter Fifty-Three

Nothing happens without completion of the correct forms, and in this case the forms must be completed in triplicate. I needed signatures from Benjie, Gertrude and Eliot Dell, trustees of the Bluebell Home. They had authorised the emigration of eight children, and they must rescind the authorisation. I was not sorry that Sykes had insisted on coming along. Since my car was out of action, we travelled in Sykes’s motor. I had advised Alec Taylor to come, too, and at least let Benjie know that he was safe and well. Whatever else Benjie had done, or failed to do, he was fond of Alec.

Alec climbed out of the dickey seat to open the gates to Thorpefield Manor. “My legs have gone into cramp.”

“Mine too, but from the cold!”

The first gate creaked open. I turned to Sykes, who was driving. “It’s not just Alec’s legs that bother him. He feels uneasy about being back here.”

The police report on my accident concluded that the loosening of the steering linkage could have been done deliberately, or may have happened gradually and escaped notice. Like me, Alec believed the damage was deliberate, an opinion reinforced since he knew that Philip maintained my car. He had confided that Eliot had shown an interest in the car and spent some time taking a look at it. I thought that it was more likely to have been Raynor.

Alec opened the second gate. “I’ll walk to the house.” He sauntered ahead, hands in pockets.

Sykes waved an acknowledgement, and drove on, passing the main door. “I won’t come in.”

“That’s all right. This shouldn’t take long.”

Like Alec, I felt slightly awkward. But now it was up to Scotland Yard and Wakefield CID to make the next move, if they chose to act on the information we had supplied.

By the time Raynor opened the door, Alec had caught up.

“The prodigal returns,” Raynor said, giving him a stern look.

“Hello, Raynor. Alec needs to speak to Mr. Brockman. And is Mrs. Brockman at home?”

“She is not, I’m afraid.”

Was this a “not at home to you”, or a genuine not at home?

He answered the unspoken question. “She is visiting old Mrs. Dell.”

In a way it was endearing that Mrs. Dell had become “old Mrs. Dell”, almost in tribute to the younger Mrs. Dell who was no more. I said nothing about seeing Mrs. Dell driven away by her younger son. Perhaps she returned as quickly as she went.

“Then we’ll speak to Mr. Brockman.”

Raynor led us down the hall to Benjie’s study, knocked and entered. “Visitors for you, sir.”

Benjie’s eyes lit up at the sight of us, or rather at the sight of Alec. “Where did you get to, you young rascal?”

Raynor hovered in the doorway, a frown creasing his brow. If he had it in mind to try again at silencing me, he would have to think of something quickly.

“Refreshments!” Benjie called to him.

“Not for me, thank you, Benjie. This is a flying visit. I wanted to see you and Gertrude. I believe she’s visiting Mrs. Dell.”

“I don’t want anything, thank you.” Alec looked around the room, and at the stamp albums on the desk.

“Sit yourselves down then, and you give an account of yourself, young man.”

While Alec lowered himself into a chair as if it might bite his bum, I produced the papers that Martin Yeats had obtained for me.

“Benjie, you know the eight children who are lined up for passage to Canada?”

“Yes there was something about that.”

As if he did not know.

“It’s not a good idea for them to go. There’ve been outbreaks of smallpox on that ship. They would never reach Canada alive.” I had to think quickly of some civil service department that would be responsible for such matters. “On the advice of the Office for Migration of Minors to the Dominions, the authority for their passage must be revoked.”

“Oh well if that’s the case.”

“You need to sign in triplicate.”

“Do I indeed?”

I passed him the forms. “You, Eliot and Gertrude.”

He picked up his pen. I pointed to the line for his signature. “And today’s date.”

He glanced at the day-by-day calendar on his desk, and signed. “You’ll catch Gertrude, but not sure about Eliot. He’s had strong interest in overseas investment in our mine. He’ll be gallivanting to London.”

That was so annoying. He would be the tricky one.

He passed me the signed forms. “What happens to this merry band of orphans now?”

Good question.

Alec came up with the answer. “Could they be brought here, sir? There’s plenty of room on the top floor.”

“What do you know about the top floor?”

“Only what the servants say, sir, about how many empty rooms there are.”

Benjie thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not, but children need looking after don’t they?”

“I’m sure that could be taken care of, Benjie.”

I thought of Mr. and Mrs. Arkwright, and how they would love to be in touch with their charges again. One step at a time.

Of course if Benjie and Raynor were arrested for murder, that plan might fall flat.

I stood. “Thank you, Benjie. I’ll leave you and Alec to talk. And Alec, we’ll see you by the car when you’re ready.”

As I went out, I heard Benjie saying. “You’ll be wanting your Comic Cuts. It’s here somewhere.”

I went back to the car. Sykes and I strolled towards the walled garden. Sykes looked back every few minutes, to make sure no one was sabotaging the car. We would go to the Dells’ house. Once I had Gertrude’s and Eliot’s signatures, we would take Alec to meet Philip. There was a flat above the Battersby garage. It had been agreed that Alec might stay there, which would be an improvement on living above the stable. Now that Philip was to take over the garage, he might move into the flat too, if he could bear to leave his mother.

“Funny old place.” Sykes said. “Say ‘Thorpefield Manor’ and you expect something grand. It’s a bit neglected.”

“They’re hoping for better days.”

“Aren’t we all?”

The wind had got up quite fiercely, but the high walls of the garden protected us. Birds made the most of the sheltered spot. A blackbird pecked at the earth. A couple of blue tits perched on a branch, inspecting the bark for insects.

“Mrs. Shackleton!”

I turned to see Milly. “Hello!”

She came hurrying towards me, with a great smile.

I introduced her to Sykes. “Milly was my maid when I was here.”

“Then I’ll leave you two to chat. I’ll look out for Alec, and keep an eye on the car.”

It was too cold to sit down. We walked towards the rose bed which was all bare stems, trimmed back. “So what news, Milly? You’re looking better.”

“The police came from Wakefield. They searched my room. They looked in the eaves as if they knew what they would find, and I could hardly breathe, but there was nothing there. I felt so relieved, and then Mrs. Brockman appeared, and she didn’t say anything but I could see she was shocked. They went along the corridor, and they were doing other searching. I was trailing after them as best I could, but they shooed me away. And you’ll never guess where that stuff was.”

“Where was it?”

“Mrs. Brockman’s maid told the housekeeper, and she told the cook and the cook told me. It was under Mrs. Brockman’s bed. And when they found it, Mrs. Brockman said, ‘The maid put it there’, and her maid said no she didn’t and Mrs. Brockman said, ‘the maid Milly’. And the police asked me and I said no I hadn’t touched it.”

Milly then told the police about my photograph of the items left in the eaves.

She seemed remarkably cheerful. The police officer had been nice to her.

I did not have the heart to tell her that his being nice did not mean that Stephen was out of the woods.

Alec was not long in joining us. With the restlessness of the young, he had parted quickly from Benjie.

I said goodbye to Milly.

We climbed into the car, ready for our next call.

“How did Mr. Brockman react when he heard you have a new job, Alec?”

“He didn’t say much at first, and then he was all right about it.” He then spoke slowly, to make every word count. “He gave me a five pound note. Have you ever seen one?”

“Yes, I have seen one.”

That did not stop him describing it. “It’s huge. It’s white. I’ve put it in my sock.”

‘Open a Post Office savings account.’

“They’ll ask me where I got it. They’ll think I stole it.”

“Just say who gave it to you, and that you worked for him and it was a gift when you left, a gift for being a good worker.”

This cheered him. I remembered how I sometimes used to be tongue-tied. There would be something inside that needed to be said, but what were the words, and how did you put them together?

“Did Mr. Brockman say anything else?”

“He asked me if I remembered a woman who sometimes visited the Bluebell children, and brought us things.”

“And did you?”

“When he reminded me. She once brought a rag rug. In the middle it said, ‘ABC’ in red. Round the edge, it had numbers one to ten in yellow. No one had ever seen anything like it. She said that if we stood on the letters, we would be good at reading and writing. If we hopped from number to number, we would learn our sums very well.”

“That sounds a wonderful rug.”

“He said she takes an interest still, and that I should visit. She lives in the village, the bottom house on Silver Street. I should tell her that I am making my way in the world.”