The Shadow of the Sycamores (37 page)

He was in such a state that it took some time for those still in the kitchen to understand what he was trying to say. Then Raymond Miller showed his worth as the Superintendent. He organised several small search parties, with instructions as to exactly which area they were to cover and soon they had all gone. Tina Paul looked at Dolly Miller. ‘I’d better be there for that poor wee mite when he wakens up. He’ll wonder what’s going on. Babies can usually tell when something’s wrong.’

Left, more or less, to hold the fort, Dolly decided to make a search of her own. Could Anna be reacting at this late stage to the traumatic time of the birth? She could have regressed to the extremely disturbed girl she had been when she arrived. She might be under the impression that she was still living under this roof, all memory of the past few months expunged.

Some of the inmates Dolly approached looked at her blankly but those who could see that she was upset did their pathetic best to comfort her.

‘Anna’s a good girl,’ observed one woman, nodding her head vigorously. ‘She’ll come home when she’s hungry.’ Obviously, she had forgotten who Anna was.

Another, older and even more confused, started singing, ‘Will ye no’ come back again, will ye no’ come back again, better loved ye canna be …’

Dolly moved to the next room – Mr Ballantyne might remember her. ‘If that’s the young lass that baths me of a morning,’ the man smirked, ‘she’ll be off with her lad. She’s told me all about him, you know. She’s a real one for the boys, that one.’

Frustrated and feeling like shouting at each and every one of them, it dawned on Dolly that she should have asked Charles Moonie first. He had known Anna better than any of them and, if she had run away because of some marital trouble, he might have known where she would have gone to be alone. Sure that he could set her on the right track, she made straight for Charles’s door.

When she told him why she was there, however, the ex-bank-manager appeared to be more distressed than she was
herself and, guessing how he had felt about the girl, she turned away tactfully.

‘Mrs Miller.’

The whispered words made her look back at him. ‘Yes? Have you thought of something …?’

‘I went to see her this afternoon … to talk to her. She was all right when I left.’

‘What time was that?’

‘Oh, around half past two, I’d say.’

‘Thank you, Mr Moonie.’

She was at the top of the stairs when he called out, ‘She might be in the potting shed. That’s where she used to go with that … gardener.’

‘Good!’ Going down the stairs, it occurred to Dolly that the man had never once met her eyes and he had definitely not been his usual charming self. A coldness swept over her. Had he taken a belated revenge on the girl for marrying someone else? Was she going to find a dead body in the potting shed? With no one to accompany her, she pulled on a coat and ran out.

Charles had been trying to recall the events of that afternoon when Mrs Miller knocked on his door. When he heard what she had to say, he was quite relieved that Anna had disappeared – he had been somewhat afraid that he had killed her, too. But he had been right. He
had
left her in that tiny kitchen, hadn’t he? And she must have been alive – otherwise how could she have got out of the house? Maybe she had not taken in what he had done to the child so he would swear that she had smothered it herself and she was in no fit state to deny it even if she were found.

Too late, Charles realised that he should have offered to help in the search. Mrs Miller had probably wondered why he hadn’t. It must have been common knowledge that he was very fond of Anna but, hopefully, no one had realised that he regarded her as his own special property. He would have liked to shout it from the rooftops but, as things stood, it was wiser not to.

His heart slowed almost to the point of stopping altogether as a dreadful possibility struck him. Anna had been in a terrible state when he last saw her but, surely, she wouldn’t … have taken her own life? Could his poor darling, at this very moment, be lying dead somewhere?

Appalled at this thought, his only instinct was to find her before she committed such a terrible deed and, just as he was, in his shirtsleeves and well-worn carpet slippers, he dashed downstairs. He knew a quick way to the potting shed and could be there before Dolly Miller but he wished that he had not mentioned it to her.

Charging blindly through the trees and shrubs, he was unmindful of the branches scraping at his face and hands for he could faintly hear Dolly’s slow, sure-footed progress along the gravel path some yards away and he must get in front of her.

He was gaining ground when he remembered that coming this way meant that he would have to cross the burn and the wooden bridge was on the path. He could not waste time changing direction – he would have to jump across. It wasn’t really all that wide.

Coming to the rushing water, in spate after the torrential rain earlier in the day, he kept at the same speed as he launched himself into the air but the solid grassy bank had turned into a sea of slimy mud. Perhaps he could have made it if he had been wearing shoes but the soles of his old slippers were so smooth and slippery in themselves that his leverage was gone. By some quirk of fate, his belly flop ended in him striking his temple on the jagged edge of a submerged stone, brought down from the hill by the brown foaming surf. With the full force of his fourteen stones behind his fall, he did not stand a chance of survival.

The air in the normally warm kitchen was no warmer than the air outside, which increased Tina’s fears for Anna. She wouldn’t have left the house for long enough to let the fire go out without taking her baby with her. Maybe she had gone out to get firewood and met with an accident of some kind? But the basket in the porch was almost full of the sticks that Jerry brought in every day.

The nurse had fully intended to do something to help Anna while she waited for the infant to wake up, some ironing, perhaps, or housework, but everything seemed to be done. Taking a quick peep into the cradle, she set about getting the fire going again for she didn’t want the poor wee mite to catch his death of cold. Once it was crackling merrily, she hooked the kettle on to the swey, directly over the heat. Whatever had happened, Anna and her husband would want a cup of tea when they came in.

It occurred to her then that Jerry might have been in such a state when he couldn’t find his wife that he hadn’t checked the outhouses thoroughly, if he had checked them at all. Running outside, she went to the privy first but Anna wasn’t there. Then she visited the first shed, looking into each of the boxes that had originally held the household items people had given the young couple but they were far too small for anyone to hide in. In the coal shed, she took the old shovel Jerry used for filling the scuttle and dug into the mound of coal. She didn’t want to find a body but you never knew.

The next corrugated iron construction was just a repository for rubbish and items too bulky to keep in the house. Like the
others, they yielded no clues as to where Anna could be and Tina went back inside.

For a few minutes, she hunkered down and held her hands out to the fire, then she swilled out the teapot with the water that was already beginning to make the lid of the kettle dance. Opening the caddy, she wondered whether to just make enough tea for herself or to fill the teapot right up. She settled for putting in one spoonful – it could be long enough before anyone else appeared, though surely somebody would come to see if Anna had turned up.

As she sipped the welcome warmth into her shivering body, it occurred to her that there had been no sound from the cradle all the time she’d been there and, laying down her cup hastily, she rose to make sure the infant was all right. Finding that he hadn’t moved even the merest fraction, she pulled back the cover that was keeping her from seeing him properly and her look of deep concern changed to utter horror as she stared down at the beloved little face, now a deathly greyish shade of blue.

Intent on praying that she would find Anna alive, Dolly Miller heard nothing of what was happening in the near vicinity. If it was a body she found, she would know that Charles Moonie must have killed the girl, though if that was what he had done, why had he told her where to go? Why lead her directly to the scene of his crime? It was puzzling and deeply upsetting and she wished that she had taken time to find someone to come with her.

So cold and wet was she that she contemplated going back to the house to wait for one of the search parties to turn up … but she had to know! Head down against the wind, she plodded on. Even if the potting shed was empty, it would be better than sitting in the house alone not knowing anything.

When she reached the fairly large wooden hut, used for the storage of tools as much as for potting, she lifted the latch as quietly as she could but the door gave a loud protesting screech as she pushed it back. Her heart beating wildly for she did not
know what to expect, she narrowed her eyes and peered round in the darkness, wishing that she had thought of bringing a lantern with her. At last, however, she was satisfied that there was no one there – alive or dead.

Wavering between relief and disappointment, Dolly took a step towards the door again and then halted in mid stride. What was that sound? Just a small squeak, it could be a mouse or a rat or some other woodland creature. There it was again. Standing stock still, she held her breath. The animal might come out if it thought it was safe.

There was no movement whatsoever and, on the point of leaving, she had one last try. ‘Anna?’ she murmured, in little more than a whisper.

‘Tina?’

The word was barely audible but it gladdened the woman’s heart. ‘No, it’s Dolly Miller. Are you all right?’ A slight rustle came from her right and, straining her eyes, she could just make out a figure huddled against the wall. She picked her way across, trying to avoid the various items scattered over the floor but, when she bent down to help the girl to her feet, the poor creature screamed, ‘Don’t touch me!’

‘Did somebody hurt you, my dear? Can you stand up?’

‘Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!’

Having had much experience of disturbed minds, Dolly decided that it would be best to sit down beside the girl and talk gently to her. The questions could come later – when she was ready for them.

Raymond Miller could see that Jerry was having trouble keeping up with them. ‘Look, lad,’ he said solicitously, ‘why don’t you go back and get Dolly to …’

But the young man was adamant. ‘No, I can’t give in.’

‘It’s not giving in. You’ve had a shock, you’re worried about your wife and you’ll be no use to her if you pass out.’ Realising that Jerry might pass out on the way back, Raymond added, ‘I’ll come with you. I should have remembered to bring a storm
lantern.’ Guiding him away from the others, he called back, ‘Carry on without me, I won’t be long.’

He was glad he had insisted because the young gardener would have foundered several times as they made their slow way to the big house. ‘Dolly!’ he cried as they went into the kitchen for there was no sign of her. ‘Get some brandy for Jerry, here. He needs it … right now!’

There was no reply to this and the two men looked at each other in dismay. ‘She can’t be in our sitting room, otherwise she would hear me. She must be upstairs.’ Raymond raced out and took the stairs two at a time … but he couldn’t find his wife there either. He came down more slowly, hoping that this was a nightmare and that he would wake up at any moment.

Recognising the despair in his employer’s eyes, Jerry said, ‘She’s gone, too … hasn’t she?’

‘What in God’s name is happening?’ The Superintendent went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of cooking brandy and two tumblers. ‘This isn’t the best of stuff but it’ll help.’

They said nothing as they sipped, letting the spirits work a miracle, trying to gather enough sense to plan what to do. At last, Raymond said, ‘Did you notice Charles Moonie among the searchers?’

Jerry shook his head. ‘No but he could have been with another bunch.’

‘I don’t think he was there when I gave out the instructions. I’ll go up and see if he’s in his room. He might know something about …’

He went out without finishing the sentence but was back in moments. ‘He’s not there. I’ve had a queer feeling about that man ever since your wedding. I suppose you knew that he and Anna were … very friendly? In fact, I’d say a lot more than friendly as far as he was concerned. I’ve seen him looking at her as if … no, take no notice of me, Jerry, it was probably my imagination.’ He opened another cupboard and lifted a lantern from the bottom. ‘I’d better get back with this but you stay here and recover your strength.’

Jumping to his feet, Jerry declared, ‘No, I’m coming with you. That’s two women we’ve got to look for now.’

‘Good lad!’

Before they reached the door, however, it burst open and a wild, blackened figure ran in. ‘He’s dead! William Henry’s dead!’ Tina moaned, handing Jerry the small bundle she was carrying and letting Raymond help her to a chair.

The brandy bottle was produced again and, between sips, she told them what she had been doing and how she had found out about the child. When she came to a gasping end, Raymond said, ‘Who do you think is responsible for this?’

‘I can’t think, Mr Miller … oh, Jerry, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

Utterly numbed by this second tragedy, he shook his head helplessly.

‘Would it have been Anna herself?’

Raymond’s suggestion galvanised the young man into making a reply. ‘Anna would never have killed our baby,’ he whispered. ‘She wouldn’t!’

‘We’ve got to face facts,’ Raymond said gently. ‘She was sent to us in the first place because her parents said she had killed her sister. She was jealous of the attention the younger girl was getting and, if she thought you loved the baby more than you loved her … well, jealousy can be uncontrollable. Afterwards, she could have had a flash of normality, realised what she had done and run away.’

‘But she was all right – she’s been perfectly well for a long time … hasn’t she?’