Water Gypsies (36 page)

‘You all right?’ Sylvia put her arm round Maryann’s shoulders.

‘Yes. Ta.’ Maryann shrugged her off. She couldn’t manage sympathy or closeness. Not at the moment.

‘The vicar handled it all all right, didn’t he?’ Dot said.

‘I thought he was rather nice,’ Sylvia agreed, and Maryann could tell they were just talking for something to say and she was grateful to them.

‘Do you want to go back with your brothers – spend the evening with them?’ Sylvia asked.

‘No.’ Maryann just managed to keep the bitterness from her voice. ‘All I want is to get back home. Get going again.’
Away from here
, she thought.

They reached the cemetery gates. Billy and Mrs Biggs had already gone. Tony waited, though.

‘Bye, sis,’ he said. ‘Come and look us up, won’t you?’

‘Course I will,’ Maryann said. She knew she would, every so often. But she also realized that probably, she’d never see Billy again, and with a pang, she knew that it no longer mattered.

The twins ran to catch up, skipping along the path. Joley and Ezra were chasing each other in and out of the gate, while Rose was picking up bits and pieces off the ground. Seeing Sylvia coming, she ran to her and took her hand.

‘Right – all shipshape everyone?’ Dot said.

‘Where’s Sally?’ Sylvia said, headcounting the children.

‘Good job someone’s looking after them,’ Maryann said. Shows what a daze I’m in! Where’s she got to?’

They called back along the path, but it seemed wrong to be shouting in a cemetery.

‘Knowing her, she’ll’ve gone off in a dream somewhere,’ Maryann said. She frowned. ‘I thought she was in front of us.’

‘Well, she was at one stage,’ Sylvia said. ‘But they were all dodging about so much. She’s probably got herself lost in there.’

They spent the next half-hour searching the big cemetery, calling and looking, walking right down to the far side.

‘It’s not like her to hide and be naughty, is it?’ Dot said.

Maryann was bewildered. Sally could be dreamy at times, it was true, but she’d never done anything like this before. And she wouldn’t run off into the unknown streets of Birmingham without the rest of them. None of the other children knew where she’d gone and Maryann could see from their faces that they weren’t having her on. She became more and more uneasy.

‘It feels as if she’s fallen down a hole or something,’ she said. ‘What the hell’s happened to her?’

On the far side of the cemetery, in a newer part where there were few graves, they saw a middle-aged man kneeling, mending the fence.

‘I say!’ Dot called to him. He turned, startled.

‘We’re looking for a little girl – she seems to have lost her way in here. Have you seen her? She’s – how old is she, Maryann? Seven?’

Maryann nodded miserably. A coldness was beginning to creep over her. Sally had been missing for too long now to be playing up or have just wandered off. Realization was just beginning to dawn in her.

The man frowned. ‘I’ve only seen one girl this afternoon. About half an hour ago. Blonde. Pretty little thing.’

‘Long blonde hair?’ Sylvia asked, excitedly. ‘What – wandering about here?’

‘Well, no. She was with someone – walking along the path over there – a bloke.’

‘How odd,’ Dot said. ‘What did he look like?’

The man shrugged. ‘Not young. Quite a big feller. Sort of wide-chested. Trilby pulled well down – couldn’t say what his face looked like.’

The sound which came from Maryann made them all look round: a sharp exhalation as if she had been punched. She couldn’t hide the fact that was trembling all over, everything round her was reeling. For a moment she thought was she going to pass out.

‘Maryann?’ Sylvia and Dot hurried over to her at once, asking questions, but she managed to stay upright and ran to the gardener.

‘Where did they go? Which way?’

She tore off in the direction in which he pointed because it was all she could do, knowing that it was too late, too long ago, that when she reached the gate the road would be empty, but she could only run with desperate prayers streaming from her lips that he hadn’t got her, hadn’t really got away with her little girl…

There was no one on the road. A lone car passed in the quiet afternoon.

Dot, Sylvia and the others caught up with her and it was Dot who ran to Maryann and seized her by the shoulders.

‘Who is he? Who’s got her? For God’s sake, Maryann, you’ve got to tell us what’s going on.’

Thirty-Six

She couldn’t be still.

‘ I’ve got to go – got to find them.’ She pulled away from Dot and started running blindly along the road, unable to do anything else but move in the direction her child had gone. But of course she didn’t know the direction. They were gone, they could be anywhere by now. When Dot reached her again and caught her arm, dragging her to a standstill. She felt herself cave in. Everything seemed to whirl round her, overwhelming her as if she was drowning. Her nightmares had merged into the reality of day and there was screaming and crying somewhere in the distance and she could not catch her breath …

‘Maryann – MARYANN!’ Sylvia was there now, shouting in her face. Why was she yelling like that? Maryann – I don’t want to slap you, but I’m going to have to if you don’t calm down!’

She felt herself being shaken hard by the shoulders and at last the world steadied a little.

‘That’s better.’ Sylvia gripped her arms. ‘Now tell us – who is Sally with?’

‘With … with my stepfather – he used to be. I know it’s him – I know he’s taken her and we’ve got to get her. You don’t know what he might do …’ Her hands went convulsively to her cheeks and she was sobbing, shaking so hard that she could barely stand.

Supporting her on each side, they asked her over and over if she was sure, if it could be a mistake.
No, no
– all she could do was shake her head.

‘ Look,’ Dot said, ‘we must go and tell the police.’

‘No!’ Maryann cried. ‘I know where we need to go. He’s got a factory in Cheapside. We’ll go there –I bet he’s taken her there!’

Sylvia’s eyes were full of doubt at how they were going to manage this when she barely knew the geography of Birmingham’s great sprawl, didn’t understand anything of what was going on.

‘Look,’ she decided, ‘I’ll go home with the children. You and Dot go.’

On the tram, the two of them sat side by side in silence, Maryann filled by a numb sense of inevitability that now they could only do small things, one at a time to get Sally back, when her nerves were screaming that she had to find her now,
now,
and have her back safely in her arms. She tried to close her mind to everything but the next step. The tram crawled along the Bristol Road. There was too much to say for them to begin talking now so they reserved speech only for practical things.

They went to the police station in town, where Maryann talked to them with a sense of hopelessness. Yes, her daughter had been taken away and it was by the same man, she impressed upon them, who had murdered the red-headed woman Amy Lambert. She told them the name of ‘Albert Griffin’s’ factory. And they had to look for Sally
now
because otherwise he would harm her. He was evil, capable of the most terrible things. And Maryann wept helplessly in front of the policeman as she described her pale-haired little Sally.

When they left, Maryann stormed at Dot, ‘It’s no good. They keep saying they’re doing their best, but they’re no ruddy good to us. They never
do
anything.’ So many of the police had gone away to war that only a skeleton service was operating. ‘We’ll have to do it ourselves.’

‘Maryann,’ Dot panted, trotting to keep up as Maryann tore along the street, ‘what were you saying to him? About that woman, a red-haired woman, you said. You said
murdered
… ? What in heaven’s name were you talking about?’

‘He murdered her, I know he did.’ Maryann didn’t stop for a second, firing out disjointed scraps of thoughts. ‘Amy – and Sal. And Margaret might just as well be dead. It’s all him, all of it. And they won’t believe me – and we’ll have to do it. No one else has ever – no one believes me except Janet because she knows. She’s seen … she’s the only one who knows.’

Maryann couldn’t see the expression of appalled sorrow in Dot’s eyes, couldn’t see her own distraught, pitiful state. Dot knew that this had not come out of the blue. She had lain beside Maryann, known the terrors that haunted her sleep. What on earth did this poor, sweet-natured woman have in her past to cause all this? What had she suffered? Dot was filled with sorrow and tenderness, but she was out of her depth, inhibited by her own youth and lack of experience. Maryann’s life was another world to her. All she could do was follow, look for Sally, and try to gather what was happening.

Maryann led her to Highgate, half running along Bradford Street and across to Cheapside, until they stood outside
Albert Griffin, Toolmakers & Machinists,
both of them panting hard. Maryann went straight to the open door. Inside, the long, dark factory extended back from the road. Dot saw a row of women seated at lathes, and a long table surrounded by a mess of packing cases. There was a subdued roaring from the far end of the workshop, over which they could hear the sound of music from a wireless on a smaller table to their left. A man was singing somewhere. The women nearest the door turned and stared at them but didn’t stop work. After a moment the singing stopped and a man appeared, wearing a dirty overall.

‘You looking for someone?’

‘Yes, Mr Griffin.’

Dot was surprised at how collected Maryann seemed suddenly.

‘He don’t come in much, afternoons. He’s not here. In fact he said he was going to a family funeral, now I think of it.’

‘Yes,’ Maryann said, ‘that’s it – he’s my uncle, see. We’ve just come from there. We don’t see much of Uncle Albert, but I left my daughter with him and he said he’d meet us here. You sure you haven’t seen him – with a little fair-haired girl?’

The man shook his head. ‘No. Like I said, I’ve not seen him all day.’

Maryann managed to look bemused. ‘I must’ve misunderstood him. P’raps he’s taken her back to his house. What was the address again?’ She turned to Dot, who managed to shrug as if she’d momentarily forgotten it.

‘Oh dear. I’m sorry to trouble you – would you be able to tell me his home address so’s we can catch up with him? Only, we was hoping to have tea with Uncle Albert – get to know him a bit better like.’

‘Just a minute,’ the man said noncommittally. ‘I’ll have to ask Doris.’ He went to the back of the workshop and vanished through a door. When he came back, he gave them an address: 33 Cameron Road, Acocks Green.

This time they caught a tram along the Warwick Road. When they alighted in Acocks Green, Dot saw to her surprise that they were not far from Tyseley Wharf. She wished, not for the first time that afternoon, that she wasn’t dressed in this damnable skirt and court shoes, but in her usual slacks and boots so she could move freely. Maryann, in her full black skirt, was able to stride along unimpeded. She was running, still possessed by an insane energy. All Dot could do was follow, feeling her feet blister as they rushed along the row of terraced houses.

‘Here!’ Maryann cried.

Dot felt her heart lurch. Whatever was she going to do?

Maryann didn’t miss a step. She marched straight up and hammered the knocker with such force Dot thought the door must split. Maryann couldn’t stand still for a second. She was moving back and forth, one hand resting on her waist, elbow out. She chewed fiercely at her other thumb. But suddenly she snatched her hand away from her lips and started screaming.

‘Come out! Come on – get out here! I know you’ve got her, you evil bastard! Get out here!’

Her cried sounded frail in the open air and the house felt silent and unoccupied. The windows reflected back the sky’s late afternoon light, but inside it was dark and there was no sign of movement.

Maryann hammered again desperately. Again, no response.

‘He’s in there – I know he is!’ Her hands went to her face and she wept, distraught. Feeling helpless, Dot went to try and comfort her. But Maryann fought her off to begin her pacing again.

‘I’m not going till we’ve been in there! We’ve got to get in – I’m going to get in if I have to break the door down. He’s got to be here – where else can he be?’

Dot knew that Maryann felt it was their last chance of finding Sally today. She went to the door herself and pushed on it, banging once more on the knocker. It felt like a firm, strong door. Then she heard the sound of smashing glass and turned to see Maryann bashing at the front window with a lump of wood she’d found. Having smashed the window, she was clearing away the splinters of glass to climb in.

‘Oi – what the bleedin’ ’ell d’you think you’re doing?’ A gaunt woman in an apron had appeared from the next-door house. ‘I’ll have the coppers on you…’

Before Dot could turn and give a reasonable explanation for their conduct, Maryann had stormed over to the low wall and let out the loudest and most colourful string of invective Dot had ever heard. It brought the blood to her cheeks. She’d never heard Maryann so fluent and there were certain words she didn’t even recognize. It looked for a moment as if Maryann was going to punch the woman, who eventually retreated back indoors, mouthing oaths. A moment later she was peering out of her front window. Dot didn’t dare say a word. She wondered whether the woman would go for the police but, after all, what did it matter? Maryann turned on her, her face pale and taut.

‘You coming in with me?’ she demanded.

‘Yes, of course.’

They hauled themselves in over the sill, Dot wrestling with her tight skirt. She cursed, scraping the back of her leg on the way down. They climbed into the front parlour, and as their eyes adjusted to the light they saw that the room was set out in a stiff, formal fashion, the walls, floor and furniture all varying shades of brown. But there was nothing else to see and they moved quickly through the lower part of the house – back room, kitchen, all very neat and tidy. There was no sound.