She searched in the kitchen drawers and even went back up to Miss Clements’s room to have a guilty peek through her spare handbag, but Mr Lovett’s number was nowhere to be found. She mustn’t panic. There was always an explanation for everything. If only David were here he’d know what to do. He was the practical one.
By the time darkness fell, she had given up hoping that anyone would come back that night. Anyway, they wouldn’t have packed their bags if they’d meant to come back. She closed the curtains in the downstairs sitting room before she put on the lights – not that she was nervous, oh no, just cautious. And it helped make the place feel cosy. She cleaned out the open hearth, and carefully laid a fire with kindling and logs. It blazed up quickly. Together she and Donald sat on the sofa and watched the flames flicker.
Looking at the fire reminded her of the night Copse’s house had burned down. It had been a night of horror, but looking back at it now, it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. It had freed her from the Magnifico and had led to the creation of her family.
The trouble with having a family was that she was always worried about them. They must have left so quickly that there wasn’t even time for them to tell Beverley or Mr Lovett. Mrs Jones, her grandmother, might have news of them, but no way could Lucy go to that house. Never in her life had she faced such sickening hatred. The thought of the man and the scum and the devil’s spawn, brought a pain to her stomach.
That night, she lay on the bed, fully dressed and ready for flight. If only the silence wouldn’t swish around her so loudly! It deafened her as she strained for the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs. The slightest of draughts blew in from somewhere – was that the whiff of cigarettes from a smoker’s strangling fingers? Or was it the hot breath of the fire of the melting flesh? She fell asleep as dawn was breaking.
*
It was Saturday, and still there was no sign of the others. Lucy’s fears of the night seemed less oppressive. Once again the house felt safe. She drank a cup of tea but couldn’t eat and, after she had given Donald some breakfast, she found his lead and took him for a walk up the footpath at the side of the house. At the top of the hill they stopped, and she gazed out over the town and the bay beyond. The grey of the sky had lifted, and the sea had turned to a deep navy blue. Ireland must be over there somewhere, and beyond that was America.
Over to the left she could see the castle, and the spire of the church next to it. To the right, she could see the cliff and the train carriage at the top of the little railway. And in between, out of view behind the hotel roofs, she could picture the promenade with its shelters and benches and bandstand and pier, and the empty paddling pool awaiting the arrival of summer.
They had been privileged to have found this place, and now something had gone terribly wrong. If only she knew where Paul was! He’d be frightened without her. They would all have been here or at school on Wednesday, because that’s when Mr Lovett spoke to Miss Clements. They must have gone that night, or on Thursday – not yesterday, or there would still have been water in Donald’s bowl.
*
Paul, in fact, was enjoying himself immensely. Every night and every morning he checked that the gold chain was still round his neck, to make sure that Lucy was with him in spirit. He had a kind grandmother called Mrs Jones, and there was a jolly old gentleman called Mr Jones who sat him on his lap and told him jokes and sometimes talked to him in that language that Paul spoke at school. “Bore da!” Paul would say, and Mr Jones would smile with pleasure and call him a clever fellow.
When Lucy was up on the hill on the Saturday, looking out over the town, Paul was in the playground up by the castle. Gwen Jones was pushing him on a swing, while her husband sat on a bench and wondered where he was.
“Where’s the graveyard?” he asked an old woman sitting on the bench next to him.
“They dug that up years ago,” she said. “Look.” She pointed behind him. “See? They propped all the gravestones up against the wall to make a little park.”
“Well, I’m blowed!” said Evan. “What will they think of next? Mind you, a playground’s a cheerful thing to have and a graveyard’s sad, so it’s probably for the best.”
She smiled. “Yes, you’re right. It’s good to look at it like that.”
When the woman left, Gwen gave up pushing, and Paul disappeared with another child into a wooden tower. She sat down next to Evan, and he took her hand.
“Ah, it’s lovely to have you close,” he said. “Who’s that little boy you were playing with?”
“Don’t you remember? He’s Mary Ellis’s little boy, Paul. I take him to school every day and he’s staying with us over the weekend while she’s away.”
“He reminds me of Maria at that age. When does she finish in college? She should be home soon, shouldn’t she?”
“Yes, she should,” said Mrs Jones.
He looked around him.
“I’m not sure where we are,” he said. “Shouldn’t there be a graveyard here?”
“They made it into a little park and put in this playground,” said Mrs Jones. “It’s a happy use for it. Shall we go home now and have a nice cup of tea?”
“That would be lovely, my darling,” he said, putting his arm through hers.
How blessed were these moments when he forgot, thought Gwen. If only he could always be sleeping or forgetting! She called to Paul.
“Who is that little boy?” asked Evan. “He reminds me of Maria.”
“Yes. He reminds me of her too,” said Gwen.
*
“When’s Lucy coming back?” asked Paul, as they sat down at the kitchen table with their cups of tea. “She’ll want some of this nice cake.”
“Who’s Lucy?” asked Evan. “That’s such a pretty name. It means ‘light’.”
“She is my light, and she’ll never leave me.”
Chapter Seventeen
After two nights in the tower, Dorothy and David emerged on the Sunday morning, bedraggled and blue with cold. Had they only known it, Lucy was giving Donald his breakfast at that moment and wishing she knew where they were.
“I’ve run out of money,” said Dorothy. She tipped up her purse and out came a twenty-pence piece. Her pockets were empty. “Have you got enough for breakfast?”
David felt in his pockets. He had a pound. “We can get some rolls from the supermarket when it opens,” he said, “or a couple of apples.”
“We can wash in the public loos. We might feel a bit better then.”
Their shoes had gone hard and seemed to have shrunk.
“My feet really hurt,” said David.
“At least we survived the night,” said Dorothy in an attempt to sound positive, “and I actually slept quite well.”
“So did I. Perhaps we’re getting used to it. And the sun’s shining. Look at the blue of that sky!”
They had to wait for the supermarket to open, and wandered through the empty backstreets shivering and miserable.
“Well, I’m sorry to say this,” sighed Dorothy, “but I feel extremely non-positive. We’ve either got to ask someone for help or we’ve got to hitch a lift to London. At least we’ll find food behind the restaurants and shelter under the railway arches — a backward step to where we were last year!”
David took out his mobile phone. “I’ll try Mr Lovett. You never know, he might work at the weekends.”
“I don’t see what he can do. He’s so far away.”
“Perhaps he knows someone here we could trust.”
There was a recorded message saying Mr Lovett would be out of the office till Tuesday. The phone gave a ping. David groaned. “See that little picture at the top? We’re nearly out of battery.”
“We’re just going to have to ring Mrs Jones. Quick! Before the battery runs out.”
David nodded. He found the number, but paused before p
ressing the button. He looked at Dorothy anxiously. “Shall I? It’s such a cheek – she hardly knows us.”
Dorothy didn’t feel comfortable about it either. “I don’t know what else we can do,” she said. “We’ve slept rough two nights and we’ve got no money, our clothes are all damp, and we’re both so cold we’re numb all over. If we don’t do something we’ll be ill and the police will pick us up, and they might be infiltrated.” She sneezed. “Do it. At least we can trust her and we can’t live like this forever. I feel disgusting even though we did have a wash.”
David pressed the button and waited. He was just saying, “Supposing the grandfather answers?” when there was a little click, and Gwen’s soft voice, with its gentle lilt, said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs Jones. It’s David here.”
She sounded pleased. “Oh, David! How nice to hear you. Oh, of course, you haven’t got school. It’s Sunday. Are you coming to see us today?”
David’s eyes filled with tears as he heard the kindness in her voice. His own voice cracked as he said, “Can you help us, please?”
Dorothy could hear Gwen saying, “What’s the matter, love? What’s happened?”, but David couldn’t speak. She took the phone from him.
“It’s Dorothy here, Mrs Jones. We daren’t come to visit you in case we’re seen going in and it might get you in trouble. We’ve had to escape from Miss Clements’s house because of those people – the Magnifico’s people – and they might still be around.”
They could both hear Gwen’s gasp of horror.
“And we’re embarrassed, but we have to ask you for food or money, and some dry clothes or something,” gabbled Dorothy. “We’ll pay you back somehow, one day. And can you tell us somewhere safe to go?”
There was a silence on the other end of the phone, then, “Where are you?” Gwen’s gentle voice had become firm.
“On the prom.”
“Of course I’ll help you. Go up to the playground by the cas—” The phone went dead.
“It’s run out. The battery. She must have meant the castle. Let’s go!”
Half an hour later, they were still sitting on a bench by the swings, with their hoods pulled up and shivering despite the sunshine.
“One good thing about anoraks,” said Dorothy, “is that everyone looks the same.”
David sneezed. He looked around anxiously. “I just hope we’re in the right place.”
As he spoke, they heard the scuttling of feet behind them and an excited yelp. They turned to see Paul hurtling towards them. Gwen and Evan were more sedate. Dorothy and David stood up as they approached, and pulled back their hoods.
“Hello, dear boy!” cried Evan, shaking David’s hand vigorously. “My goodness, your hand’s like a lump of ice! Fancy seeing you here! No school today?”
“No sir, it’s Sunday.”
“Ah, so it is.” Evan turned to shake Dorothy’s hand. “And how are you, my beautiful young friend?”
“Very well, thank you, sir,” said Dorothy.
Paul ran off to the swings.
“Do you think you could go and give him a push, Evan?” said Gwen. “My back’s a bit stiff today.”
“Gladly!” he said, and ambled away.
Gwen pulled two bacon-and-egg sandwiches and a flask of hot coffee out of her bag, and sat down on the bench.
“Come on you two, have something to eat, and you can tell me all about it. Though I suggest you pull your hoods back up while you’re here. Evan and I won’t be offended.”
They gave her a detailed account of what had happened, and to their relief, she remained calm and collected. When they had finished she sat silent for a while, and was obviously thinking.
“Well,” she said at last. “You can’t go back to the big house, in case they’re watching it. I’ve no doubt that Miss Clements and Miss Marilyn took fright and have gone off for a few days. I expect they’ll call the police as soon as they feel safe. When is Lucy due back?”
“We’re not sure,” said Dorothy, “but probably tomorrow or Tuesday.”
“Now, you’re both to come back with us, and you can stay in our house till all is well. No one will recognise you in those clothes. Just keep the hoods up, but don’t stoop as though you’re afraid to be seen. Walk proudly with all the confidence in the world.” She looked up at the sky as she spoke. “One good thing about our weather is that it’s changeable. It’s going to rain again any minute, so of course your hoods will be up, as will Evan’s and mine.”
It did indeed start to rain five minutes later, and Evan and Paul returned to the bench.
“I’ve invited Dorothy and David to come and stay with us for a few days, Evan,” said Gwen. “They’re living with that Miss Clements and her sister up at the top there, but they’ve had to go away on business.”
His face lit up. “That will give both of us great pleasure,” he said. “Maria will be back soon, and will be so pleased to see you.”
It was decided that they would walk back separately, “Because of the narrow pavements,” Gwen told her husband. She and he and Paul would reach the house first, followed shortly after by Dorothy and David.
“I doubt if those horrible people know we have any connection,” said Gwen quietly to Dorothy, “but it’s just a precaution.”
*
The hallway was narrow and the living room small, but the house was warm and prettily furnished in an old-fashioned way.
“I’ve never been anywhere so cosy in my life!” exclaimed Dorothy. “I’d just love to live in a sweet little house like this.”
Evan was pleased. “And so you shall, my dear; at least until those two ladies come back. Where did you say they were, Gwen? Oh, I remember – gone away on business. I wonder what sort of business they’re involved in?”
There was just enough hot water for Dorothy and David to have hot baths one after the other, and they were wrapped in ancient dressing gowns and pyjamas while Gwen put their clothes in the washing machine.
“The one luxury we do have is a tumble dryer,” she said. “There’s not room for much of a line in the back.”
A mattress was laid on the floor in Paul’s room for David to sleep on, and some suitcases were moved to one side in the box room so that Dorothy could reach the little camp bed in the corner.
“This must be what heaven feels like, if there is such a place,” said Dorothy, as they sat down at the kitchen table and watched Gwen ladle out platefuls of steaming lamb casserole.
*
Lucy took Donald out on the Sunday afternoon. They wandered about the town for a bit, and walked the length of the prom and back, with frequent rests on one bench after another to give Donald a chance to recover his breath. When it began to get chilly, they made their way slowly back to the house. It was nice to have a dog for company. She didn’t have to wonder if she trusted him. He didn’t make her suspicious, but was simply there, as glad of her company as she was of his. She opened the front door with Miss Clements’s spare key, and stopped to listen. It didn’t feel as though anyone was there. She shut the door and bolted it, top and bottom.
She gave Donald his supper, and made herself some bacon and egg. Tomorrow would be Monday, so the next decision she had to make was whether to go to school or to stay in the house all day on her own. She weighed the pros and cons. If she went to school there was a small chance that Dorothy and David might be there and had simply been staying at a friend’s house while Miss Clements and her sister were away. But it was unlikely. The risk of staying with strangers would be too great. And, it wouldn’t explain Paul’s disappearance. Also, if she went to school, Donald would be on his own all day and might howl, and the neighbours might send for the cruelty to animals people to come and take him away.
It could be that instead of bringing Paul back from school as usual on Thursday, Mrs Jones had been allowed to take him home
and keep him there till Lucy came back. He did sometimes go there to tea, and she knew that the ‘devil’s spawn’ man there liked him and thought he was a neighbour’s child. Maybe Mrs Jones had asked Miss Clements if he could stay for the weekend because he was missing Lucy. That was a very real possibility.
A wave of relief swept over Lucy as she considered it, until she remembered that Mr Lovett had told Miss Clements she’d be back on Friday. Mrs Jones would surely have brought him back to the big house so that he could see Lucy. Even so, it was worth a try. After all, although Lucy couldn’t think of Mrs Jones as a grandmother, that’s what she was and they should be able to trust her. She racked her brains. What had they done with the bit of paper with her address and phone number? It had been in David’s anorak pocket when they went down to look for the house.
Lucy ran upstairs. The anorak had gone. He would have been wearing it when he left. She shuffled through some homework papers on his chest of drawers and looked through his drawers. Nothing. There was a book on How to Invest Wisely next to his bed. Lucy smiled. They’d all had a look at the book, thinking of their housing fund, but they hadn’t been able to make head or tail of it. David had been determined to keep on trying, and his page was marked with a scrap of paper. Sure enough, there were the grandmother’s instructions, including the phone number.
The Big House Page 16