Tears rolled down Joyce’s face. She threw her arms up in frustration. ‘Don’t keep asking me all these questions. I don’t know the answers to them. I don’t know anything about him, except his mother was a friend of the family and she died, and then my grandmother took him in.’
Rose shook her head. ‘We need to stay calm and think it through; otherwise we’ll never find him.’
Joyce didn’t know how she was going to be able to think straight about where he could be when she had no information at all.
Rose looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Did you empty the chest that came with Philip?’
Joyce bit down on her lip in a bid to stop it from trembling. She shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t got round to it. I’ve opened it and expected to see clothes and things for Philip, but it appears to be only books and paperwork. He’s managed with the case of clothes he came with.’
Rose’s face lit up. ‘Well, maybe it’s time you looked in the chest. It could give you some answers to where he’s gone. Of course, he might be at the park. It doesn’t necessarily follow he’s gone anywhere important. He’s a child, remember, and he’s probably bored. Remember what we were like as children.’
Joyce raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s what bothers me. I remember exactly what we were like as children. We did get up to no good sometimes.’
Rose gave a small smile at the memories. ‘Well, we have to start somewhere so why don’t we look in the chest and then maybe we could split up after that?’
Joyce wrung her hands together. ‘No, I’m scared. He’s out by himself and anything could be happening to him. I think we should be out looking for him.’
‘But where do we start?’
Joyce sank down onto the bottom step of the stairs in the hallway. She rested her head in her hands. ‘I don’t know, I truly don’t know but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.’
The creaking of the front door opening made Joyce look up. ‘Uncle Arthur, thank goodness you’re here.’
Arthur walked through the front door, pushing it shut with his foot as he put down his heavy shopping bags. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’
Joyce frowned. ‘I take it Philip isn’t with you? I don’t know where he is. He left the café without anyone noticing. I don’t know where to start looking for him.’ Tears rolled down her face. ‘I’m such a terrible person. I shouldn’t have left him sitting in the café all day. It’s not right for anybody, let alone a child. It’s obvious he was going to get bored.’
‘Slow down.’ Arthur looked to Rose to get an understanding of what had happened.
Rose shook her head. ‘We haven’t looked anywhere yet, mainly because we don’t know where to look. He didn’t say anything about places he used to like to visit to you did he?’
Arthur shrugged. ‘Like what? He might have just gone to the park or something.’
Joyce stood up; anger filled her face and her hands clenched in fists by her sides. ‘Yes, and he could easily have been run over or be hurt somewhere and I’m sitting here not knowing what to do. I can’t do this. I need to do something; I’m going to the hospital.’
Arthur ran his hands through his hair. ‘Right, perhaps I’ll go to the park and Rose can look through the chest.’
Joyce frowned. ‘I’m not sure what you’ll find in the chest but it’s worth a look. If you have any news I will be at the hospital with Grandma in the hope that Philip turns up there.’
Rose looked at Joyce’s pale features. ‘We’ll find him; we just need to stay calm and think about things properly. Do you think he’d go to the theatre? Because he could be with Annie.’
Joyce rubbed her hands over her face. ‘Well, we can’t be everywhere; at least if he’s with Annie he’s safe.’
Rose’s eyes widened. ‘Perhaps we should let the police know.’
Arthur shook his head. ‘They won’t do anything yet.’
Joyce wrung her hands together. Her face pinched with tension. ‘Has he said anything about where he lived before he moved in with my grandma? He may have gone back there.’ She suddenly let out a scream while her eyes looked heavenward. ‘I don’t know where to look.’
Rose had never seen her friend like this before; she had always coped with whatever life had thrown at her. Rushing over, she put her arm around her shoulder and let her head rest on her shoulders. ‘It’s going to be all right, Joyce. We will find him, I promise.’ She gave her friend an extra squeeze. ‘Joyce, we’re in this together and we will find him. We’ve just got to start looking and start thinking about where he might go. Come and help me look in the chest.’
Joyce gulped and gasped for air. ‘How can you say that? I feel like I’ve let him down. I’m not fit to look after him. I don’t know what to do.’
Rose stepped away. ‘You could help me.’ She walked into the dining room and stood in front of the chest that had been sat in the corner of the room since Philip had arrived. She stooped down and unbuckled the worn black leather strap that was wrapped around the chest. Her fingers pressed hard on the cold metal locks until there was a clunk and they sprung open. Gingerly, she lifted the heavy lid. The noise of the front door slamming shut made Rose jump. She peered behind her, expecting someone to walk in but no one did. She stood up and went out into the hall. Her footsteps clipped on the tiled floor, resonating in the hall. There was no sign of Arthur, and Joyce hadn’t moved. She was still sitting at the bottom of the stairs sobbing. ‘Where did Arthur go?’
Joyce shook her head. ‘He’s gone to the hospital, just in case that’s where Philip is. He said I wasn’t in a fit state to go anywhere by myself, and insisted I stayed with you.’
Rose stood up and put her arm under Joyce’s and pulled her up. ‘Come on, we’re not going to find him sitting here.’
Joyce followed Rose into the dining room and stared at the open chest. Joyce wrinkled her nose at the musty smell. ‘What is all this stuff?’
Rose looked from Joyce to the brown leather chest. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t looked but it seems to be, as you said, mainly paperwork and books.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘That’s not going to help us find Philip … unless there’s any clues in there of where he used to live?’
Rose looked at her friend and gave a small smile. ‘That’s it, Joyce, we got to think logically and then we’ll find him.’ They both bent down as one and started to look at the paperwork.
Joyce grabbed a wad of papers out of the chest. She flicked the edges, concentrating as she peered down at the pages, trying to get a quick understanding of what was on each of them. There was no time to read the detail. She had no idea what she was looking for but kept throwing things out of the chest and on to the floor. Some of the papers were thin and fragile when she picked them up. They also held a yellow tinge befitting their age. There appeared to be many books. Some were children’s while others were recipe books. She opened one and saw her mother’s name carefully written inside. Joyce stopped and took a breath. These had belonged to her mother. The temptation was to examine them but this wasn’t the time for a trip down memory lane. She snapped the book shut and put it to one side on the floor. ‘Rose, can you see anything that relates to Philip and where he might have gone?’ Joyce’s voice rose in pitch as her fear took hold again. ‘There’s just so much paperwork here. I don’t even know what most of it is, and we don’t have time to sit and read everything.’
Rose kept picking up bits and pieces, glancing at them but everything seem to relate to Joyce and her mother. ‘I haven’t seen anything yet, but I must admit I’m not reading everything.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘I think we’re wasting valuable time. Why don’t we walk up to the market and see if Peter has seen him go past?’
Rose raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s better than doing nothing I suppose, but it does feel like we’re just going round and round in circles.’
Joyce got to her feet. ‘I know but what else can we do? I can’t just sit here and do nothing, and this feels like
it’s a waste of time.’ She stepped away from the chest. ‘I think I’ve become more attached to him than I realised. If anything happened to him I’ll never forgive myself.’
Rose stood up and put her hand on the small of Joyce’s back. ‘I know, but we must have faith. He’s going to be all right, I know he is. Come on let’s go out and have a look. He’s quite streetwise.’
Joyce glared at her friend. ‘I don’t know why you would say that, when he’s so young.’ Her mind immediately went to the brother and sister she’d given the silver sixpences to. Was he as streetwise as them? Would he know how to survive, and if he did, how did he know? There were so many questions running around her head. It suddenly dawned on her she knew nothing about Philip’s life before he came to live with them. She hadn’t wanted to push him or upset him, but when he was found she would correct that, tears or no tears.
Rose hesitated for a moment. ‘I thought … I just thought…’
Joyce opened her mouth to say something then closed it again before shaking her head.
Rose frowned. ‘I don’t know what I thought, but it’s best we don’t think about it.’
Joyce shuddered. ‘Why don’t we go to my grandmother’s house and see if he’s gone there? At least there’s some sense to that rather than wandering aimlessly.’
‘That’s a good idea. Lead the way.’ Rose grabbed her handbag. ‘Come on then. I’m not leaving you on your own, and I’m sure next door will take Philip in if he comes home.’
Joyce followed Rose out into the hall. ‘If we don’t have any joy there we could go to the solicitor’s. Jeremiah King may know more about Philip than he’s told me; at least that might give us some direction.’
Rose turned and studied Joyce. ‘See, you’re thinking now rather than panicking, so now I know we’ll definitely find him.’ Rose pulled open the front door and stepped into the sunshine. ‘Maybe Philip’s gone to Hyde Park to paddle in the Serpentine.’
Joyce gasped. ‘Oh my goodness I hadn’t thought of that. Would he know the way to Hyde Park?’ She shook her head. ‘This is an impossible task. Where do we start looking? I wouldn’t mind but I don’t even know what time he left the café. Has he been gone half an hour, an hour, or two hours? I’m such a bad person. When I find him I’m never going to let him out of my sight ever again.’
Rose put her arm through Joyce’s. ‘You’re not a bad person; you’re just juggling so many things. If Simon was here you wouldn’t be caught up in the café as much as you are. If you let Arthur and us help then you wouldn’t feel so bad and heavy with responsibility. You’ve got to start letting us in and understand you’re not on your own. I know you have no family but you should look on us as your family because we certainly look at you that way.’
Joyce could feel her eyes welling up again. She tried to focus on the people around her. ‘I know, I know, you are both very good friends. I suppose I just don’t like to put on people.’
A child called out followed by laughter. Rose spun round on her heels to look behind her but it wasn’t Philip. ‘You’re not putting on us if we’re offering to help. We offer because we want to.’
‘I just hope we find him, Rose. I feel so bad. He’s been through so much already and none of it is his fault.’
Rose squeezed her friend’s arm. ‘It’s not your fault either, Joyce; it’s no one’s fault. We need to find out what sort of life the little lad has had. He comes across as being very “I can manage on my own and I don’t need anyone”, but everybody needs somebody and I think that just tells you he’s had quite a hard life.’
*
Arthur wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow with his white handkerchief before they started to trickle down his face. He had almost run to the hospital while trying to keep his eyes peeled for Philip, but now his lungs were on fire and he was ready to collapse in a heap somewhere. He frowned as he stood gazing at the many people coming and going in the foyer of St Thomas’ Hospital. The overpowering smell of disinfectant wafted up his nose, along with the distinctive smell of carbolic soap, both hitting the back of his throat at the same time. He coughed in an attempt to clear it away. He looked around him, wondering where Mrs Taylor’s room was. His pulse was racing, and he wondered why he had thought it was a good idea to go to the hospital in the first place. Memories of William rushed into his mind; belatedly he realised it shouldn’t have been him who came to the hospital.
A boy caught Arthur’s attention. Thinking it was Philip, he stepped forward just as the lad turned round to face him. Arthur stopped. It wasn’t him. He stood still, looking around the foyer. He had to find Philip. Panic grabbed him. His chest tightened. He wasn’t going to lose another child.
He rubbed his hand over his seven o’clock shadow; the bristles were sharp against his fingers. He wished now he hadn’t been so lazy that morning and shaved. Would Philip really come here? Would this really be his first place of calling? Arthur walked across the tiled flooring; his soft soles couldn’t be heard over the chatter of everyone he passed. He stopped at a desk. ‘I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find Mrs Taylor.’
‘Do you know what she’s in for?’
Arthur closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. ‘All I know is she’s in a coma and not likely to come out of it.’
The nurse gave him a pitiful look. ‘If you go upstairs someone will point you in the right direction. Take care.’
Arthur strode towards the stairs and then proceeded to climb them two at a time. He pulled open one of the double doors that were in front of him, almost colliding with a young nurse. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
The nurse smiled as she looked up at him. ‘Don’t worry, there’s no damage done.’
Arthur frowned. ‘I’m looking for Mrs Taylor’s room. I don’t suppose you know where it is by any chance?’
The nurse gave a slight smile. ‘It’s just along the corridor, the third door on the left.’ She paused. ‘You do know she’s not awake don’t you?’
Arthur frowned. ‘Yes, I do, but I’m looking for someone and they might be visiting her.’
The nurse nodded. ‘There is someone in with her. If you’re quick you might just catch them.’
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief; he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He reached out and touched her arm. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’
Before she could answer he was striding along the corridor to the third door on the left. He stared through the open doorway; it took a while for it to register what he was looking at. He blinked hard. Was it really him? That couldn’t be right surely.
A man sat near the bed, his arm outstretched as he held the old lady’s hand. He looked up and gasped.
Arthur shook his head in disbelief. ‘Tell me I’m not seeing things.’
Ted released his mother’s hand as though it was burning his fingers. He jumped up from the chair, almost knocking it over in his haste. Without hesitation, he rushed past Arthur shouldering him against the doorjamb.
Arthur held on to his arm as he slumped against the doorframe, sucking in his breath as the pain took hold.
The man didn’t look back. He ran along the corridor to the double doors and the stairs.
Rubbing his arm as he went, Arthur chased the man he thought was his friend. ‘Ted, wait, you can’t do this. Everybody thinks you’re dead.’
A shrill voice called out, ‘No running please; this is a hospital.’
Arthur glanced over his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, but I must catch that man.’ He looked back to see the double doors slamming shut. He was only seconds behind Ted, but it was imperative he caught him. ‘Ted, Ted wait. You can’t keep running away.’ Arthur stopped gasping for breath. He looked up to see Ted looking back at him, also looking worse for wear. Arthur’s lungs were burning but he had to keep going. He weaved in and out between the people in the foyer and ran through the open door of the hospital to find Ted lea
ning up against the wall gasping for breath.
Ted peered at Arthur before bending over to catch his breath. ‘I’m clearly not as young as I used to be.’ He pulled himself upright and rested his hands on his hips. ‘What are you doing here, Arthur? Why did you come here to see my mother?’
Arthur shook his head. ‘I can’t believe it, I can’t believe I’m looking at you.’ He shook his head again, gasping for breath. ‘It should be me asking you what you’re doing here. You’re supposed to be dead!’ He kept his eyes firmly fixed on Ted. ‘I just can’t believe I’m looking at you.’
Ted wiped his damp hands down his trousers; the beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. ‘Arthur, I can explain.’
‘Can you? Can you really? Do you have any idea how much your daughter has been grieving for you? Wasn’t it enough that she lost her mother? And yet you thought it was all right for her to think you were dead. You thought it was all right to leave her with me, a drunk, at a time when I wasn’t capable of looking after anyone, not even myself because of my own grief. Have you no remorse? Did you not think you should come and see her?’ Arthur shook his head. ‘Joyce isn’t going to believe this.’ He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I’m not going to be the one to tell her. She’s only just found out I’m not her uncle. You’ve got to come home with me and let her know straight away. She’s already in a state because we can’t find Philip.’
Ted shook his head. ‘Philip? What’s happened to Philip? Is he living with you?’
Arthur’s eyes widened as he stepped nearer to him, his hands clenched in fists by his sides. He leant in, cutting the air with his hands. ‘How and what do you know about Philip, and why are you worrying about him, when you should be thinking about your daughter?’
Ted said nothing. He lowered his eyes, unable to look at Arthur. ‘I’ve made a right old mess of things haven’t I?’
Big Dreams for the West End Girls Page 20