Pinnegar’s lips drew together in a snarl as he turned on his heel and strode away with his two thugs in tow. Sunday flashed a grateful smile at the stall-holder and set off briskly in the other direction. Despite the brave front she’d presented to him she quaked inside every time she set eyes on Albert Pinnegar. But then she supposed she should be grateful that all he’d done up to now was approach her. There was no law that said he wasn’t allowed to speak to her, so she knew that she just had to brave it out. No doubt in time he would grow weary of his obsession and leave her well alone. Even so, as she set off for home she found herself repeatedly glancing over her shoulder and was relieved when Whittleford Lodge came into view.
Once back in the warmth of the kitchen she emptied the contents of her basket onto the table and, glancing around, she asked Annie, ‘Is Daisy not about?’
‘Oh, she set off fer a walk along the cut some time back,’ Annie answered as she examined the vegetables that Sunday had bought. ‘I wish she wouldn’t, atween you an’ me. She’s as big as a house now – an’ what would happen if she were to have a fall? Yer can’t tell her though.’ She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. ‘If yer do say anythin’ she just says as she needs to get some fresh air. She’s never gone for very long though, so I’d expect her home shortly.’
Sunday frowned. Like Annie she was very worried about Daisy. Since Christmas, her friend’s spirits had sunk to an all-time low and they were having trouble getting her to eat properly. Sometimes she didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed and when she did, she would disappear off for solitary walks whatever the weather, shuffling along with her head bent. Still, she always came back after a little while, Sunday consoled herself and found that she was wishing for the birth to be over now. Perhaps when Daisy saw the baby she would have a change of heart and find that she could love it? She could only hope so.
She sat down with Annie and Tommy to have a light lunch after taking a tray through to Mrs Spooner but, as yet, Daisy hadn’t put in an appearance.
‘She’ll be back soon enough. She ain’t goin’ to stay out much longer in this weather, is she?’ Annie commented as she saw Sunday’s eyes stray to the window. It was raining heavily again now and wherever Daisy was she must be soaked to the skin.
‘I reckon I might just go out an’ have a look for her after we’ve finished eating,’ Tommy said then. He was concerned about his sister too, not that she’d listen to any advice he tried to give. Daisy seemed to be just existing from day to day and there was not a thing any of them could do about it.
As soon as lunch was over, Tommy fetched some more logs in and made the fires up before putting his heavy coat on and setting off in search of Daisy as Sunday got on with her chores.
The afternoon was beginning to darken when Tommy reappeared and asked, ‘Is she back yet?’
Sunday shook her head. ‘No, there’s been no sign of her.’
Tommy scowled as he removed his sodden coat and tossed it over the wooden clothes horse in front of the fire where it immediately began to steam.
‘I can’t understand it. I got down onto the towpath up at Clock Hill in Hartshill and followed the cut right the way to the Cock and Bear Bridge but she wasn’t there. Surely she wouldn’t have walked further than that in this weather?’
‘Perhaps she didn’t go along the canal at all today?’ Sunday was as worried as he was but not sure what to do.
‘Well, sure as eggs is eggs, frettin’ about her ain’t goin’ to bring her back any sooner,’ Annie said stoically. ‘So you go an’ put the kettle on, Sunday. This lad looks like he could do wi’ a hot drink inside of him.’
By the time the evening meal had been served to the lodgers and then cleared away there was still no sign of Daisy and by then Tommy was pacing up and down the kitchen like a caged animal. Worn out, Annie had left for the comfort of her own fireside and Sunday didn’t know what to suggest they should do.
‘It’s too soon to report her missing to the constables,’ she pointed out. ‘They’d just say she had probably gone to visit a friend.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘I know. I suppose I’m just worried that she might . . .’
His voice trailed away but Sunday knew exactly what was in his mind. Daisy was so depressed that she might think of ending it all. It was what they had all been dreading and why they had been keeping such a close eye on her. Oh, if only Annie hadn’t let her go out today! But then how could she have stopped her? Daisy wasn’t a prisoner, after all.
‘She’ll be back,’ Sunday assured him in a shaky voice. ‘And when she does she’ll feel the length of my tongue, you just see if she doesn’t – worrying us like this!’
The evening wore on. Sunday sat letting the seams of a dress out for Daisy by the light of the oil lamp while Tommy sat at the side of the fire making a pretence of reading a newspaper. Sunday knew that he wasn’t really reading for his eyes kept straying to the window and he was as taut as a spring.
‘Are you two still up?’ A voice startled them as the grandfather clock in the hallway struck ten and they saw Mrs Spooner standing in the doorway. It was actually late for her to retire too, but like them she was concerned about Daisy.
‘Oh yes.’ Sunday laid the dress down and stifled a yawn. ‘We don’t like to go to bed until Daisy’s home.’
‘Well, you can’t stay up all night else you’ll be fit for nothing tomorrow.’
‘It’s all right, Sunday,’ Tommy butted in. ‘You go on up and get some rest. I’m going to go out and look for her again. I can’t just sit about round here doing nothing.’
Jacob appeared then and told him, ‘I’ll come with you.’
Tommy smiled at him gratefully and the two men began to wrap up warmly before venturing out into the cold night. Once outside, Jacob set off to look around Stockingford while Tommy went in the direction of Hartshill, hoping that Daisy might have gone to see Cissie at Treetops Manor.
‘I think I’ll wait up until they get back,’ Sunday told Mrs Spooner and she was surprised when the old lady went to take Tommy’s chair at the side of the fire.
‘I’ll stay up with you. I doubt I’d sleep anyway till I know she’s back safe.’ But despite her kind words her chin was lolling on her chest in no time and she was snoring softly as Sunday stood by the window praying for a sight of Daisy.
It was the early hours of the morning before first Jacob then Tommy reappeared.
‘I’ve walked miles but there’s not a sight of her,’ Jacob told her as he held his hands out to the fire, which Sunday had kept going. His teeth were chattering with cold and Sunday rushed away to put a pan of milk on to make him some hot cocoa. Tommy entered soon after, his face a mask of misery.
Sunday looked at him but he merely shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he told her dismally. ‘I’m off to report her missing to the constables at first light then I’m going to carry on searching for her.’
As an idea occurred to Sunday she felt her knees buckle with fear but she kept her thoughts to herself. What if Albert Pinnegar had taken Daisy – in revenge for getting him dismissed? The man was evil and she wouldn’t have put anything past him.
Eventually Jacob went to bed to snatch a few hours’ sleep while Tommy and Sunday sat at the table talking and trying not to think the worst. At some stage Sunday rested her head on her arms and slipped into a fitful doze and the next thing she knew, Tommy was gently nudging her awake.
‘It’s just getting light so I’m going to the police station,’ he whispered. Mrs Spooner was still snoring in the fireside chair. Her wig had slipped forward, completely covering her eyes and under other circumstances the two young people might have found it amusing but as it was all they could think of was the missing girl.
Sunday agreed blearily. There seemed no other course of action open to them now, knowing what state of mind Daisy had been in. Sunday just dreaded to think what the poor girl might have done to herself.
And so, bright and early as she prepared the breakfasts
, Tommy set off and all they could do was wait. Word of Daisy’s disappearance had spread through the house and when Sunday served their meals the lodgers all expressed their concern. Daisy was such a sweet-natured, inoffensive girl, and they had all become fond of her.
After discussion amongst themselves the lodgers all agreed that they would go to work late and meantime form a search-party. When they were all ready to leave, Sunday waved them off. Two hours later, Tommy returned looking pale and drawn.
‘Have they police heard anything?’ Sunday asked anxiously.
‘Not a dickey bird but they’re on the lookout for her now so hopefully we’ll hear something soon. I did have a thought though – you don’t think she might have run away, do you?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. Where would she go? And anyway, she didn’t take any money with her or any clothes. I’ve checked. Surely if she was going to run away she would have packed a bag?’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Tommy sighed. ‘But I reckon I’ll get back out looking for her again now.’
‘No!’ Sunday laid a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Jacob and the lodgers are all out looking, the police too. It’s best if you and me wait here for any news now.’
Annie arrived mid-morning and she too was in a subdued mood. ‘She’ll turn up like a bad penny, you’ll see,’ she told them, trying to keep their spirits up but it didn’t do much good.
The day seemed to drag by and, before they knew it, it was growing dark again and still Daisy remained missing. Jacob and the lodgers had given up the search hours ago and gone about their business. Then, as Annie was dishing up the dinner, there was a loud rapping on the door and everyone jumped.
‘I’ll get it!’ Sunday and Tommy said simultaneously. They rushed to answer the door and found two policemen standing on the steps. ‘Have you found Daisy?’ Sunday asked before they’d had a chance to say a word and the two officers glanced at each other.
‘Err . . . I wonder if we might come inside?’ the taller of the two said eventually.
‘Yes – yes, of course. Come in.’ Sunday almost tripped in her haste to show them in to Mrs Spooner, who had been just about to go into dinner.
‘Good evening, and how may I help you, gentlemen?’ the old lady asked in her very poshest voice. Normally, Sunday would have found it funny but tonight she was too wound up with worry to even notice.
‘Well, the thing is, ma’am . . .’ The men removed their helmets and glanced at Tommy.’
‘Is it about my sister? Have you found her?’ Tommy asked hoarsely.
‘I’m very sorry to have to inform you that the body of a young girl in the family way and near to her time, was fished out of the canal this afternoon. Unfortunately, sir, the description fits that of the young lady who was reported missing this morning by you, Mr Branning. It is our sad duty to ask you to accompany us to the morgue to identify the body.’
It was the silence that followed, before Tommy cried out, ‘No! Please God, no!’ that Sunday knew she would remember for the rest of her life. Then grief, too, engulfed her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sunday, Tommy and Jacob were helped into the back of the police cart and they set off for the mortuary. Although she was still shaken and weak, Sunday would not let Tommy go alone, and Jacob had insisted on accompanying them as he knew how hard it would be for them both.
Sunday clutched Tommy’s hand as the closed cart swayed along pulled by two jet-black police horses, but they didn’t speak. When they eventually reached the hospital, the two kindly policemen escorted them inside and down to the basement.
‘Here we are then, young man.’ The officers stopped in front of two high doors and removed their helmets. One asked: ‘Are you ready to go in, son?’
Tommy stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. He seemed to have locked himself away in a world of his own where no one could reach him . . . but after a moment he came to and nodded bravely.
‘Right.’ The second policeman swung the doors open and while Jacob discreetly stayed where he was, the two youngsters found themselves in yet another corridor. In the air was a smell that Sunday would never forget. As they stood there a man in a long white coat and a mask appeared from a door off to their right.
One of the policemen told him: ‘We’ve come to look at the body of the young girl that was brought in earlier, sir. We believe it may be this young man’s sister.’
‘Ah yes.’ The doctor stared kindly at Tommy for a moment then led the group further down the corridor.
‘She’s in here . . . would you like me to come in with you?’
Tommy nodded and clutched Sunday’s hand tightly. ‘Please – and can she come in too?’
‘Of course.’ The man leaned against the door and they found themselves in a small room with a long trestle in the centre of it on which lay a shape that was completely covered in a crisp white sheet. Flickering oil lamps were placed at either end of the trestle on small tables, casting macabre shadows that seemed to dance across the walls and Tommy feared that he might pass out.
‘Before I show her to you I must tell you that she has a very large bruise on her forehead,’ the man said gently. Tommy was shaking like a leaf in the wind. The doctor then carefully drew the sheet away, revealing a young girl’s face.
Tommy gasped as he stared down at her. Just as the man had told him, there was indeed a large bruise on her forehead but other than that she appeared to be unmarked. Her hair was still wet but that detail aside, she looked so very peaceful that she might just have been asleep. It was Daisy. All the strain that had shown in her face for the past months was gone and now she looked as she had used to before Pinnegar violated and abused her.
The doctor looked at Tommy and when the boy nodded, he respectfully replaced the sheet.
‘I’m very sorry,’ he sighed, ‘but I have to ask you . . . what state of mind was your sister in when she went out for her walk?’
Tommy gulped before saying, ‘She wasn’t looking forward to having the baby. It was forced on her, you see? But I’m sure she wouldn’t have taken her own life. She would have known that she couldn’t be laid to rest with our mam an’ dad in the churchyard if she did that, an’ she always said that was where she wanted to be when the time came. Suicides aren’t allowed to be buried in consecrated ground, are they?’
The man frowned. In circumstances such as this he should have requested an inquest, but seeing the young man’s obvious distress, he answered cautiously, ‘No, they’re not . . .’ Apart from the bruise on her forehead everything pointed to suicide – but then the bruise could have been caused when she hit the water, and her poor brother was so overcome with grief . . .
‘I shall advise the coroner to record a verdict of accidental death,’ he informed Tommy then, after making a hasty decision. ‘And then at least she can be buried where she wished. She must have tripped and fallen into the water by accident. It’s most tragic, a young girl like that with her whole life in front of her – and the baby too, of course.’ A family man himself, he sighed at the waste of life.
Too numb even to cry, Tommy nodded. Yes, that must have been what had happened. He couldn’t bear to think of his sister feeling so desperately unhappy that she’d actually killed herself and his unborn niece or nephew.
‘The death certificate will be signed and then you can proceed with the necessary arrangements.’
‘Th-thank you, sir.’ Tommy put his hand out blindly as he groped his way back towards the door, leaning heavily on Sunday. Outside, one look at the two pale faces told the policemen all they needed to know, and after hearing the decision of accidental death, they fetched Jacob then led all three back to the waiting police cart.
‘We’ll take you home,’ one of the officers said compassionately.
‘Between you an’ me I reckon the poor young lass did commit suicide,’ he whispered to his colleague once they were seated at the front of the police cart and what he hoped was out of earshot of the three young people.
‘I daresay the doctor took pity on her brother. At least this way the lass an’ her child can rest in consecrated ground, God bless them both.’
The other policeman, who had a daughter the same age as Daisy, wiped away a tear before saying, ‘Rumour has it that it was the master of the workhouse that got the girl in the family way. The guardians thought they had hushed it up but things have a habit of getting out, don’t they? I don’t mind telling you, at this moment in time, nothing would give me more satisfaction than to pummel that scoundrel into the ground. It’s he should be being buried, not that young girl.’
The police were keeping a close eye on Albert Pinnegar at the moment, for everyone knew that he’d set himself up as a moneylender. Unfortunately, there was nothing illegal in that and until someone came forward to make a complaint they were powerless to stop him. But he’d watch him after today by God he would, the policeman vowed. The man had a lot to answer for.
The journey home was made in silence. Tommy appeared to be in shock and stared blankly ahead as Sunday sat shivering at the side of him.
Mrs Spooner and most of the household rushed into the hallway when they arrived home, and there was no need to say anything. The drowned girl was their Daisy.
Annie quickly made the sign of the cross on her chest as tears squeezed out of her eyes. ‘Eeh, the poor little lass. An’ that poor babby an’ all.’
‘Is there anything we can do for you?’ asked one of the policemen who had escorted them home.
‘Aye, you can, as it happens.’ Beneath her paint and powder, Mrs Spooner was deathly pale and now the two spots of rouge on her cheeks made her look like a china doll. ‘You could call into the undertakers and tell him that I’d like to see him at his earliest convenience.’ She was leaning heavily on her stick. ‘That lass is goin’ to have the best send-off this town has ever seen. The finest coffin, a glass-sided hearse. An angel on her gravestone. That’s all we can do for her and her little unborn baby now.’
Mothering Sunday Page 25