“There’s been a further hold-up on my visas,” he said. “Head office says they’re short of staff, and even the holy leaders are melting away. I don’t like to say this, but it looks to me as though the Magnifico is on the way out.”
“Never!” said Isobel. She blew him a kiss down the phone. “Once the children are sorted, things will die down and there’ll be a mighty resurgence, you’ll see! They’re still hoping to use Paul. See you soon, lover boy, with a bit of luck.”
They rang off. She sat in the hotel room with her phone on a nearby coffee table, waiting to hear who lived at the house with the blue front door. Half an hour later the information came through. A Mr and Mrs Evan Jones lived there. They were the parents of Copse’s deceased fifth wife, Maria, and grandparents of two of his fifteen children, Paul and Lucy Copse.
So that was Lucy Copse, right under her nose – the Jones girl in the computer class with the pre-Raphaelite hair and big, wary eyes! She certainly bore no resemblance to the scraggy, squinting child in the photograph.
There was a change of instructions from the holy leaders, and it was a very tall order. She was to try and get the three older children all at the same time if they were still at that address. If the little boy was there, she was to leave him. They’d had their eye on him, even before the night of the fire. Copse’s boasting about his special powers had certainly borne fruit.
OK, she’d leave Paul. The holy leaders would keep track of his whereabouts and send Robin for him in a few weeks’ time. He would have to be assessed, of course, but if he did indeed appear to have special powers, they would groom him as the next messiah and reignite the Holy Cause.
She had enough on her plate dealing with the three others.
*
The family round the Joneses’ kitchen table was on tenterhooks, apart from Evan. He was remarkably cheerful.
“Maria will be here any minute,” he said. “She said she had to take a dog back. I don’t know whose it was. I expect she got chatting – though she shouldn’t neglect her guests like this. I’ll have to speak to her about her manners.”
He stood up and stretched. “Time for my nap. I’ll see you all at teatime.”
A few minutes later they could hear him snoring. His wife looked in on him. He lay back in his brown leather chair, with his legs propped up on a matching stool. She shut the sitting-room door quietly.
Dorothy and David rushed towards the front door.
“You go and have a cup of tea.” Dorothy whispered to Gwen. “We’ll do the washing up when we come back.”
They were back in less than fifteen minutes, with Lucy and Donald. Gwen had cleared up already and had the kettle on when they arrived. She put down an old blanket in the corner for Donald.
“I don’t have to pick up Paul from school till three,” she said, “so there’s plenty of time for a cup of tea. Now, Lucy, tell us what happened.”
Lucy sat down at the table. She spoke quietly, one ear straining in the direction of the front room. “Donald and I waited for you outside the school this morning, but I didn’t see you go in.”
“Oh my goodness, what a shame! I was in such a rush. Now I remember, I did see a little white dog on my way out, but I didn’t know it was Donald and I didn’t see you. Was there a woman talking to you?”
“Yes. She was nice and was admiring Donald. I must have got distracted just at the wrong moment.”
“Well, thank goodness you’re here now.”
They all related their stories.
Gwen was thoughtful, and stood up to put the kettle on again. “If Miss Clements is in hospital,” she murmured, “Social Services will take charge and put you somewhere else.”
Three faces stared at her back in horror.
“I wonder if they’d let you stay here – though not in this house, of course, because of Evan – but somewhere nearby. Otherwise, you might be sent to Birmingham or Bristol, or anywhere, and we could lose contact – especially if they change your names again.”
“No. It’s alright,” said Lucy hastily. “They think we’re all in London. I heard Gladys tell the policeman. And obviously I can’t stay here. When Mr Jones wakes up he might realise I’m not Maria. I’ll have to go before he wakes up.”
“We’ll think of something. We can talk about it as soon as I get back with Paul. Evan will be out of this world till four o’clock on the dot”
As if to prove her wrong, there was a bellow from the front room. Gwen leaped up, and pushed Lucy out through the back door. “Wait in the yard till I say,” she whispered hastily, locking the door and putting the key in her pocket.
Evan appeared in the kitchen doorway. Tears trickled down his cheeks. “I had a beautiful dream that Maria was with us,” he said, “and then I woke up and remembered.”
Gwen put her arms round him. “Sit down, cariad,” she said. “I’ll make you a cup of tea and get one of your tablets, and then perhaps you can finish your rest while I go and fetch Paul from school.”
He sat down and looked at Dorothy and David, and wondered aloud who they were. They didn’t know what to say. He sipped his tea.
“There’s a dog in the corner,” he said. “Sometimes I think I’m seeing things. My beautiful daughter,” he wept, as he shuffled back to his chair in the other room.
“Would you like me to go and fetch Paul, Mrs Jones?” whispered Dorothy.
Gwen thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “I don’t know how wise that would be,” she said. “We can’t be sure that their spies aren’t still around. I’ll go myself.” She unlocked the back door and let Lucy in. “You must be freezing. You’d better go upstairs to warm up, just in case he wakes up in one of his violent rages.”
She took off her apron and hung it up on the back of the kitchen door. “He can’t remember afterwards, but at the time he can be frightening. I do have sedation for him, but I’ve had to hide it away upstairs while Paul is here.”
She had quick look in the sitting room. “He’s sleeping deeply now. That tablet’s working, so you won’t have any trouble while I’m out. Even so, I’d just feel happier if Lucy was out of sight. I’ll be about twenty minutes.”
She hurriedly pulled on her old beige mackintosh, grabbed an umbrella from the hall stand and left.
Dorothy took Lucy upstairs and showed her the bedrooms. “You could sleep here tonight,” she said. “We could ask Mrs Jones. She’s really kind.”
“I can’t stay in the same house as that man,” said Lucy. “It’s too risky. I could set him off at any time. You two had better stay here just for the moment, because you’re the ones who had to escape. I doubt if the holy leaders know I’m back from London yet, so I’m alright. Donald and I will be fine up at the big house now they’ve caught Bernie. Gladys isn’t coming back for a while, and if anyone comes to the door I won’t answer it.”
Dorothy had to agree. “But I think you should stay just for tonight – in case the police go back to the house.”
“I don’t think they will, from what Gladys said. Not unless she rings them.”
There was no room to stand in the tiny box room, and they sat down on the bed.
“I wonder how they are,” said Dorothy, “Miss Marilyn and Miss Clements, that is.”
Lucy ran her hand over the faded old candlewick bedspread. It felt soft and comforting. “At least it sounds as if no one was killed. I don’t think the policeman really knew what had happened, unless of course he was being discreet and not passing on gossip. If I go back to the house, I could go up to the hospital and see if I can find out anything.”
Dorothy thought about it. “Well, that might be a good idea,” she said, rather doubtfully. “I don’t like to think of you in the house on your own, but I suppose you’ll have Donald. He’s been such a hero!”
*
Isobel was standing in front of the station, on co
nstant watch. Every now and then, she would stroll back and forth, and look up at the clock as though she was waiting for someone – a friend perhaps. There was hardly any need, because she was so nondescript as to be barely noticeable.
At a quarter to three the blue door opened, and Gwen Jones emerged. She called a farewell into the house, and closed the door behind her. It was easy to follow her to the school, where she greeted Paul with a hug and a kiss.
Ah, so the little boy was there after all, thought Isobel. Everything was falling into place now. Copse’s son and daughter were both in that house, as well as Drax’s children. What a prize collection! For a moment her ambition soared. It was a pity she’d been instructed not to take Paul, but she could at least let head office know where the school was. Just as well. To get the other three all in one go would require careful planning and a lot of nerve too. She felt a buzz of excitement. It was so stimulating, this work!
She’d always been meticulous. Even as a student, her policy had been to plan, prepare and practise, leaving no room for failure.
Recalling her first public disposal always made her smile. Sitting next to a heavily pregnant woman on the underground she had smiled and chatted, and the woman had told her she was expecting twins. “How thrilling!” Isobel had said as she slid her hand sideways and pricked the woman’s thigh. The train was slowing to a halt. “My stop,” she said, standing up. “It was lovely talking to you. Bye.”
The woman sat with her mouth suspended in mid-goodbye, and Isobel stepped off the train. The carriage was full, yet no one had noticed. Isobel was exhilarated. She couldn’t wait to tell her tutor – three gone in one jab. That must be a record.
So, three was no problem. Now she watched as Gwen and Paul turned down the street that led towards the sea. They went into a bank on the left and came out again after about five minutes. The Joneses will be short of money, Isobel thought, with that lot in the house to feed. They certainly didn’t look well off, judging from that shabby mac the grandmother was wearing, but a bribe was out of the question. It hadn’t really worked with the two old birds, and it was even less likely to work with grandparents. But Isobel had never been short of ideas. Something would come to her.
*
“Where’s Maria?” The grandfather had woken up in a benign mood.
“She popped out,” replied his wife, “Her friends are upstairs with Paul. She’ll be back soon.”
He was surprised to see Donald lying comfortably on a blanket in the corner of the kitchen, with a bowl of water and the remains of a bone next to him.
“Why did she bring the dog back here?”
“The people were out. They’ll come for him later. Now, help yourself to some bara brith.” She put a plate of fruit loaf in front of him. “I made it last night, and it’s nice and moist.”
*
Upstairs, the four of them were all squashed up, sitting on Paul’s bed. Lucy wished she’d left the house before he came back from school. It would be much more difficult to leave now, especially if he made a fuss, but she would definitely have to go before Mr Jones woke up. Paul was happily cuddled up to her, telling her about some naughty boy in school, but her ears were straining for Mr Jones’s voice.
She hadn’t heard his sitting-room door opening. All seemed quiet downstairs. Perhaps she could slip away now before it was too late. She’d wait round the corner, and one of the others could bring Donald to her. Just as she was pushing Paul gently off her lap, the doorbell rang. All chatter stopped immediately.
“It can’t be about us,” said Dorothy. “No one knows we’re here. Paul’s the only one who’s here officially.”
In a hurried, whispered discussion it was decided that Paul should go downstairs to stand next to Mrs Jones while she opened the door.
Dorothy gave him his instructions. “Don’t speak at all while you’re there,” she hissed. “Not a sound. But listen to every single word.”
They silently leaned over the banister as he hurried down on his important mission.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Jones,” chirruped a briskly pleasant voice with a slight Welsh accent. “How do you do? My name is Sandra Williams, and I’m from Social Services. This is my identification.”
There was a silence.
“We’ve had a report that you have several children in the house who were put into the care of a Miss Clements.”
Lucy and Dorothy simultaneously clapped their hands over their mouths to suppress a gasp of horror. A vision of the social worker who had whisked David off to the disposal cells flashed before his eyes, and he felt sick. He leaned further over and could just see the hem of a long, khaki mackintosh and lace-up shoes with sturdy, round toes. Then, the top of Mr Jones’s head appeared as he emerged from the kitchen and joined his wife at the front door. Paul squeezed in between the two of them. He was looking at the woman’s ankles, and then up at her face.
“Oh,” Gwen was saying uncertainly. “Well, I suppose you had better come in.”
“What does she want?” said her husband, blocking the way and studying the visitor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
As Sandra Williams started to speak, Paul began to hum. Dorothy clutched Lucy’s arm. The humming got louder. Gwen and Evan both looked down at Paul in surprise.
He burst into song. “Beware the ankles, and the chin. Beware the voice. Beware the new T-shir,” he sang.
“Paul! Don’t be so rude!” said his shocked grandmother. “Just stop that! Go in the kitchen.”
The song collapsed into a hum again, as Paul backed into the kitchen.
Miss Sandra Williams, for once in her life, was speechless. She stepped backwards, and Mr Jones shut the front door firmly in her face.
The little group on the landing clung to each other.
“Miss Morris!” whispered Dorothy.
They could hear Gwen speaking crossly to Paul. “I hope you never do that again, Paul. You wouldn’t like it if you had a job to do and someone started humming at you.”
“You two go down,” whispered Lucy. “I’ll stay up here till I get a chance to leave.”
As Dorothy and David entered the kitchen, they could see that Gwen was upset. They guessed she would be worrying about not co-operating with Social Services.
Mr Jones sat down and pulled Paul onto his lap. “I thought he hummed very nicely,” he said. “I didn’t like that woman. We don’t want busybodies coming to our door.”
“It’s not so much the humming,” said Mrs Jones, “but the fact that Social Services called at the house. Who could possibly have reported us?”
“Nobody,” said Dorothy, firmly. “Paul is always right when he hums, and she was a bad woman.”
Evan nodded his head in agreement. “This boy can sense things,” he said. “Same as me. I could feel it my bones.”
The grandmother gave Paul a kiss. “I’m sorry I sounded cross, cariad. I was just so nervous that’s all. I was afraid she was some sort of an intruder. You were quite right to warn us.”
Paul was pleased with the kind attention, but he longed to be with Lucy. He had been told he mustn’t mention her name.
“I think I’ll go to bed now,” he said, getting down off Mr Jones’s lap. Dorothy and David guessed immediately what was in his mind, as did his grandmother.
Mr Jones looked at the clock. “We haven’t had supper yet.”
“He is looking a bit tired,” said his wife. “It’s all go at that school. Perhaps an early night would do him good, and we’ll stay away from school tomorrow. You go up, my darling, and I’ll bring you up some supper later, when you’ve had a bit of a rest.”
“Where’s Maria?”
“She’s still out. I expect she bumped into a friend on the way back.”
Dorothy and David looked at each other. Too many lies could make things confusing.
Gwen hurrie
d upstairs after Paul. Lucy was sitting on his bed, listening to a story he’d heard at school. She stood up as her grandmother entered the room. “I’m just about to go, Mrs Jones,” she said. “That is, if I can get down without Mr Jones seeing me. I can’t stay.”
Gwen knew she was right, but Paul started wailing. “I want you to stay with me.”
“Hush, Paul,” said Lucy anxiously. “You’ll disturb Mr Jones. He’s not at all well.”
“He’s very well. He was eating bara brith, and now he’s going to have a nice sleep. He sleeps all the time.”
“He does seem to be alright at the moment, but I’m afraid it doesn’t last, and he can change at any minute – when you’re least expecting it,” said Gwen. “And then he becomes very cross, which is not at all like him, because he’s a very nice man, but it can be upsetting for everyone.”
“Don’t worry. If one of the others lets me know when he’s back in his room, then I’ll leave,” said Lucy. “And Paul, you’re going to have to be good and quiet about it, because I’ll see you again very soon. Remember, I’m with you in spirit.”
“I don’t like the idea of your being alone in the big house,” said Gwen. “I’ll try to try to think of someone who’d let you stay just for a night or two till we get this sorted.”
“No. I’m fine on my own, honestly.”
Gwen racked her brains, but unfortunately her closest friend was away, and another had German measles in the house. She simply did not have the money for a bed and breakfast, and nor did the children.
“I’ll be perfectly alright,” Lucy insisted, “and I’ll have Donald with me. He’s been so brave. I’ll feel absolutely safe with him.”
Paul clung on to Lucy. “Don’t leave me,” he wailed. “Don’t leave me.”
In the end, it was agreed that she’d stay upstairs with him while the others had their supper, and she’d sleep one night on Dorothy’s floor. Gwen would try to make arrangements for all of them in the morning – on the strict understanding that she would not contact Social Services. Lucy spent the rest of the evening trying to concentrate on Paul’s chatter, while listening for the sound of slow footsteps on the stairs.
The Big House Page 18