In Search of Hope (19 page)

‘OK.’ She put the phone down and looked up as Chad returned from his shower. ‘That was Leon. He needs us to shelter someone for a day or two. Is that still OK with you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘You take everything in your stride, don’t you?’

‘I try to. I’m grateful to be alive, grateful to have you in my life.’ He gave her a mock punch. ‘But I’ll be even more grateful when you agree to marry me.’

Des studied all the houses carefully as he strolled along the street, making imaginary notes on his clipboard. But there was only one house in which he was really interested.

No one was making any attempt to keep its garden tidy. It being June, weeds were springing up everywhere with happy abandon. Des had already found out that Pulford didn’t do the gardening or housework. So was his wife no longer with him? He sauntered along and got talking to an older lady a couple of houses along, who was dead-heading her roses.

After a few minutes, she gestured to the clipboard. ‘There’s nothing written on that, just squiggles.’

He was annoyed at himself for letting that show. He wasn’t usually so careless.

‘You stayed in front of the Pulfords’ house for longer than the others. Can I ask why or should I call in the police to ask you?’

‘You’re a sharp one.’ He studied her. ‘Are you a friend of the Pulfords?’

‘
He
doesn’t have any friends, for obvious reasons.’

‘Then you’re a friend of Mrs Pulford.’ At her nod, he said, ‘Oh, good! I’ve been hired to find her.’ He pulled out a business card and handed it to her, also pulling out an article from a newspaper in which a Police Chief Inspector was commending him for his assistance in solving a tricky case.

‘This doesn’t look much like you,’ she said, looking from the newspaper photo to him and back again.

‘I’m glad to hear that. In my line of business, anonymous is good. I was smiling like this and had my hair differently, if it’s any help.’ He smoothed his hair straight back and put on his official smile. The combination was deliberately calculated to change his face.

‘Ah. Clever, that.’ She handed the article back to him. ‘Who would want to find Mrs Pulford?’

‘Her birth mother.’

After a moment’s silence, Mary said, ‘Why employ you? Can’t they contact Libby directly?’

‘They tried. Someone responded to a letter which would have arrived a few days ago. The reply was posted last Monday with her signature. We’re not sure she was the one who replied, though. If it was, and she really doesn’t want to contact her birth mother, this will go no further. If it wasn’t …’

‘If this letter was posted last Monday, she couldn’t have been involved. She left the previous Tuesday and hasn’t been back since.’

‘Very useful information, that. Thank you. So someone else must have signed the form and ticked the box for refusing all contact.’

‘It could only have been her husband. There’s no one else living there now. It’d be just like him to do that. He’s a cruel devil!’

Des waited.

‘I don’t know what Libby would want to do, but I’m pretty sure she’d have told me if she’d heard from her birth mother. We chat sometimes and I knew she’d written to an organisation which arranges reunions. But her husband always picks up the mail from a PO box near his office.’

‘He’s not at work at the moment. Do you know why?’

‘He told another neighbour he has to catch up on his annual leave. He’s hardly taken any for a good few years.’

‘Workaholic, eh?’

She nodded.

‘Could you get a message to his wife from my client? You don’t need to tell us how you do it.’

Mary shook her head. ‘I don’t know where she is exactly, but I can tell you the name of her lawyer, if that’s any help. Since her husband already knows that, I’m not giving anything away that he can use to catch her.’

‘Catch her?’

‘Come in and have a cup of tea. It’ll be less obvious.’

Des opened the gate and followed her inside the house. His luck was holding, he thought, feeling pleased with himself. He was often lucky like this on investigations – didn’t know why.

But when he wasn’t lucky, he didn’t mind bending a few rules. He did whatever it took to help people in need. He had enough money not to have to take on cases where he didn’t like the protagonists or what they were trying to do. He was sorry his parents had died young – very sorry, missed them still – but inheriting their house meant he didn’t have a mortgage. That had made all the difference to his working life.

‘Do you have a photo of Mrs Pulford?’ he asked as he took a seat at a small table in the kitchen and watched Mary put the kettle on.

‘Yes. I’ll get one out.’ She rummaged through a folder and came up with a photo of a tense-looking young woman and a small boy. ‘That’s her son, Ned.’

‘Nice looking kid.’ Des frowned. ‘But they both look … repressed.’

‘Yes. Years of domination by Pulford. I don’t know where she found the courage to leave him, but I’m glad of it. If you go looking for her, keep an eye out for
him
. He’ll be going after her. Nothing is surer. I pray he doesn’t catch her and hurt her again.’

As Mary started to put the other photos back, the folder slipped and he caught it for her, gasping as he saw another image: that of a woman who’d been beaten.

‘He did that to her?’

Mary gave him another of her assessing looks. ‘I don’t know how you’ve wriggled your way under my defences, but yes. He did that.’

‘Maybe you trust me because I’m telling the simple truth. I usually find it works best.’

‘Are you going to carry on looking for Libby?’

‘Yes. But I won’t be approaching her. I’ll leave that to her birth mother.’

‘I think she could do with a mother now. Her adoptive mother was a weak straw and married a bully. She’s dead now. The stepfather is still alive, but he’s a drunken lout these days.
He
gets on well with Pulford, which says a lot about him.’

When she’d given him the lawyer’s details, Mary showed him to the front door, but stopped dead after opening it and made a gesture to go back. He moved down the hall obediently, taking a couple of steps sideways to look out at the street through the front-room windows.

Pulford had come out of his house and was standing on his drive scowling at the garden.

‘He’s missing his domestic slave,’ Mary said. ‘
He
never lifts a finger about the place normally, indoors or out.’

They waited, but Pulford opened the garage door and hauled out a wheelbarrow, before starting to pull out the worst of the weeds.

Mary said thoughtfully, ‘He looks as if he’s settling in to work. He’s a bit obsessive about tidiness so I suppose that’s making him do menial work. I think it’d be better if I drove you away from the street. You can get into my car in the garage and crouch down in the back as we go out. If you want to remain a complete stranger to him, that is?’

‘Good idea. Thanks.’

She dropped Des two streets away, where he’d parked his car. ‘Might as well do my shopping. It’d look strange if I returned straight away. Good luck with your search.’ She drove off in another direction.

He looked at the lawyer’s details on the scrap of paper. The man’s offices weren’t very far from where the birth mother was living. He wondered what Libby would do about contacting the woman. And vice versa. He’d met Chad before, had worked for him a few times, but he hadn’t yet met his partner face to face. He’d phone Emily on Sunday evening. Before he did anything else, he wanted to make sure she still preferred him to see the lawyer on her behalf.

If she did, he’d drive up north on Monday morning and see Mr Greaves as soon as he could.

He didn’t want to upset Emily or her daughter. These adoption reunions could be very sensitive.

He sighed. He had no other cases pending. Looked like being a quiet weekend. Too quiet. He really must make time to get out and meet people, perhaps try a dating site on the Internet.

Perhaps.

On the Saturday, Leon rang his newest recruit again. When he couldn’t get an answer on Joss’s mobile, he rang Libby’s phone number. No answer to that, either, so he left a message asking Joss to contact him immediately. He didn’t say who he was or give a number, naturally. He flattered himself they would recognise his voice.

When they came home from their walk, with a tired Ned riding on Joss’s shoulders, Libby saw the message light winking on the phone. She tensed immediately. ‘Someone phoned, only no one is supposed to know I’m here except Mr Greaves, you and Allie.’

Joss slid Ned down from his shoulders. ‘I’ll attend to it. You give the lad that biscuit he’s been demanding.’

But she waited to hear who it was.

When he lifted the phone, Leon’s cultured tones rang out.

Libby looked at him. ‘Do I know this guy?’

‘I do. It’s your new employer.’ He pulled out his mobile. ‘Ah, someone’s left me a message too. Yes, it’s him.’ He dialled the number he’d memorised, and which he would never put on quick dial or write down anywhere. ‘Joss calling Leon back.’

She looked at him in surprise when he ended the call immediately.

‘He always rings you back. You can never get straight through to him. I must give you that number, in case … Well, just in case you need help, of any sort. Better to be prepared.’ He recited the number and she repeated it several times, memorising it carefully.

Joss’s mobile phone rang. ‘Hi, Leon. Yes, she’s here. We went for a little walk.’

‘Something’s come up and I need to deliver your package tomorrow morning, Joss. Can you pass it straight on to our friends? Before three o’clock tomorrow, maybe?’

‘Yes, of course. Any details I should know?’

‘The package has been around the tracks and could fall to pieces at any moment. Handle it carefully. You’ll recognise the people delivering it. This should be a quick transit.’

‘OK.’ The call had already ended.

He looked up and smiled at Libby. ‘So, we have to deliver a woman to the antiques centre before three o’clock tomorrow, and we already know that Leon thinks she’ll feel happier to have another woman in the party. All right with you?’

‘Ned won’t be in any danger?’

‘I doubt it. He’d be in more danger if you stayed behind on your own.’

‘OK. It isn’t even a long drive, after all.’

‘I know. But they do like to change the routes and the people handling the packages. It seems to work well. Leon has a reputation for getting the job done, or even, once or twice, rescuing someone from a failed transit. Not many people even know he exists.’

The following morning at dawn, a car drove up the hill and parked at the little church at the top, a couple of hundred yards up from the cottages.

Joss came fully awake when he heard a vehicle chug up the hill so early.

He got up from his air mattress, stretching and yawning, and slipped into his jeans and a tee shirt. He turned as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. ‘Did you hear it too?’

‘Yes. It’s a bit early in the morning for visitors to the church, don’t you think? It won’t even be open yet.’

Ten minutes later three people strolled along the little lane, not hurrying. An older woman was walking rather stiffly. Her two companions were kitted out for hiking.

‘How about putting the kettle on,’ Joss suggested. ‘A cup of tea or coffee says welcome in just about any language.’ He went to open the front door, then moved back.

The three visitors walked straight in, shutting the door immediately behind them. The two younger ones were people Joss had met during his visit to London. They exuded health and energy. The older woman looked exhausted and unhappy.

‘I’m Nina,’ the younger woman said, giving a different name from last time Joss had met her. ‘This is Paul and our friend is Jane. Do either of you speak French?’

‘I do,’ Libby said, ‘though not fluently.’

‘I speak it very badly,’ Joss said, smiling at the older woman. ‘
Bienvenue, madame
.’ He gestured to a chair, watching as she nodded and sank down on it with a sigh, her whole body sagging. Her dark eyes would have been beautiful if there hadn’t been shadows beneath them. He’d guess she was of Middle Eastern origin, from a former French colony perhaps.

‘We’ve been up since midnight, so Jane is very tired,’ Nina said. ‘If she can lie down somewhere till it’s time for you to leave, that’d be good.’

‘
Du café ou une tasse de thé, peut-être, madame
?’ Libby asked.

‘
Du café, s’il vous plaît
.’

Libby brought out the instant coffee and made a mug, to which the woman added three spoonfuls of sugar. She took a sip, cradling the mug in her hands, as if needing the warmth more than the dark, fragrant fluid.

‘I’ll just go and put fresh sheets on my bed.’

‘No need,’ Nina said. ‘Jane is so tired, she could just about sleep standing up. We don’t want extra washing on your line.’

‘Well, a clean pillowcase at least. And perhaps a bath.’ Libby went upstairs.

No one attempted to make conversation while she was gone.

When Jane had finished her coffee and a piece of cake, Libby took her upstairs, half-opened the door of Ned’s room to show the sleeping child, putting one finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.

The sight of the little boy sprawled sideways in the bed, still clutching his teddy bear, won a half-smile from their visitor.

The sight of the bath and a big, fluffy towel pleased her too, so Libby showed her into the bedroom and left her to her ablutions.

Paul, who like his companion had used another name, leaned forward to say quietly to Joss, ‘Jane won’t want to chat, won’t want to do anything except get as far away from her pursuers as possible. I hope she can sleep a little. She’s like a car running on empty at the moment. However, if she collapses, do not take her to a doctor, just get her to the antiques centre any way you can. I mean that.’

‘OK.’

‘Oh, and these are her things.’ Paul handed over the smaller rucksack. ‘We didn’t want it to look like anything except a casual day out, so it’s not much.’

Nina drained her mug and stood up. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Is there any way we can get back to the church without using the lane? We’re off for a hike across the moors, in case anyone saw us drive up here. We’ll call in at the village shop on the way back.’