by Tania Crosse
*
‘Jane not back yet?’ Meg asked a couple of days later.
‘No,’ Mrs Phillips bristled. ‘She only had the afternoon off, not the evening as well. I need her back here for the washing up. It’s lucky Mr W and Mrs C and Nana May have all gone down to Mr Peregrine’s.’
‘It’s unlike Jane to be late, though,’ Meg frowned. ‘She was going to see her mum and dad in the village as usual, wasn’t she? I hope everything’s all right with them. They’re getting on, she said. Had her late in life.’
‘She’s probably forgotten the time, or got distracted by something,’ Mrs Phillips sighed irritably. ‘I’ll have her guts for garters when she finally gets back. I’ll be on my way home myself before too long. It’s starting to get dark already with the evenings drawing in.’
Meg bit on her lip. Jane had been working at Robin Hill House for four years, and invariably went to see her parents whenever she had time off. If either of them had been taken ill or something, surely Jane would’ve rung from the call-box in the village? So Mrs Phillips was probably right. Jane had just forgotten the time, and was running back as they spoke.
But as the minutes ticked by, Meg’s concern was growing. And despite what she’d said earlier, Mrs Phillips had stayed on, clearly becoming more ruffled, too.
The shrill tone of the telephone ringing in the hall made them all jump.
‘Oh, I expect that’s her,’ Meg declared with relief, and dashed along the corridor to answer it. ‘Robin Hill House,’ she spoke into the mouthpiece, just in case it wasn’t Jane. ‘Can I help you?’
She waited for the distinctive clicks while someone pressed Button A in a call-box. Ah, it must be Jane, she sighed with relief.
‘I want to speak to Meg Chandler.’
The man’s voice was deep and gravelly as if someone was trying to disguise it, and it also sounded slightly muffled. Was the caller holding a scarf over his mouth? A shiver of foreboding slithered down Meg’s spine.
‘Speaking?’ Meg was at once on her guard, her reply both questioning and abrasive. She didn’t like the sound of this at all.
‘Listen very carefully if you know what’s good for you. We’ve got your dumb little friend. If you want to see her alive again, then do exactly as I say.’
The blood seemed to drain from Meg’s head and she felt herself reeling. Oh, dear God. Someone had… kidnapped Jane? Meg’s senses rocked. No, it couldn’t possibly be true. Poor, simple-minded Jane must be terrified out of her wits. Surely this wasn’t happening? She must have heard wrong. But then a picture of her friend being held against her will flooded into Meg’s mind, and rage swept through her like a tornado.
‘What d’you want?’ she answered tersely. She didn’t want this… this scum thinking she was frightened even if she was. Surely the best way to… to save Jane was to keep calm.
‘Your money, of course,’ the voice sneered. ‘Two thousand pounds. Tomorrow night.’
Meg managed to stifle her gasp. Two thousand pounds? The cogs of her brain started whirring. ‘And where am I supposed to get two thousand pounds from?’ she demanded. She was about to add that the Stratfield-Whytes were away, since they were the only people she knew who had access to such amounts. But then she stopped herself. They also represented influence and authority, so perhaps it was best to let whoever it was believe they were still in residence.
‘From your own money, of course. We know you have it. So, tomorrow night. We’ll ring with further instructions. And if you don’t believe we’re serious, go down to the gates. If we suspect you’ve told anyone else or gone to the police, it won’t just be her hair we cut off. It only takes a second to chop off fingers. So, remember. Tomorrow night.’
There was a click and the line went dead before Meg had a chance to answer. She stood there for God knew how long, frozen, swaying on her feet, before her hand automatically replaced the receiver in its cradle. What in God’s name was she to do? She staggered back against the wall. Think. Think!
Her heart was pounding so viciously that she felt faint, but she must cover up, give herself time to think. Mrs Phillips, Bob, Louise and the new housemaid, Sally, were all waiting in the kitchen. She must deal with them first. Put them off the scent.
‘You all right?’ Mrs Phillips queried as Meg returned to the kitchen. ‘You look a bit pale. The phone call?’
‘Jane’s mum’s not well,’ Meg lied. ‘I said she could stay with her overnight. I’ll do the washing up later.’
‘Oh, thank goodness for that,’ Mrs Phillips sighed. ‘I can stop worrying and get off home. Goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight, Mrs Phillips.’ Meg absently joined in the chorus from the other staff, but her mind was elsewhere. Had she imagined the phone call? Was it all a hoax? Who the hell were these people, and how on earth did they know about her money?
Thoughts darted about her brain, trying to make sense of it. And poor, poor Jane. Oh, Lord. Meg hurried out of the house on the pretence of checking on the cows for the night. Their grazing was, of course, rotated, but they happened to be in one of the fields that flanked the drive, just as they had been on that morning, approaching two years ago now, when Ralph had first brought her there in the van.
Mrs Phillips was just turning out of the drive onto the lane. Meg gave her time to disappear into the gathering gloom before running up to the ever-open gates. Her eyes scanned about her frantically. Ralph kept the verge mown, but years of long couch-grass still bordered the metal railings. It was so hard to see, but suddenly it jumped out at her. A plait of mousy hair, six inches long, tied with a blue ribbon, just as Jane had been wearing when she’d left the house at noon.
Meg picked it up, wanting to scream as she held it against her chest. Oh, God. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.
Oh, if only Mr W was there, her head groaned. He’d know what to do. Should she try telephoning him? But if she did, what could he do from so far away? He’d only tell her to call the police, but then… what about what the bastard, for that’s what he was, had said he’d do to Jane if she did?
She knew in a flash, a dart of hope tearing through her torment. The one person she could turn to, who would know what to do. Ralph.
He’d be down at his parents’ cottage having dinner with them as usual. Meg turned, tearing back up the drive, around the side of the house and across to Gabriel and Mary’s cottage, her chest gripped in panic. She was about to hammer on the door, but that would alert the elderly couple that something was wrong. Agonised, she knocked quietly, dancing on the spot. By some miracle, it was Ralph who opened the door.
‘Oh, Ralph, you’ve got to help me,’ she blurted, dragging him outside.
‘What?’ he frowned bewilderedly, but his brown eyes were steady. As she knew they would be.
‘Just listen,’ she instructed, gulping down her terror. And she told him, in as few words as she could, about her money, how only Mr W and Mrs C, Nana May and Mr Chillcott knew about it, and how someone had kidnapped Jane for ransom. And she showed him the proof of it, her hand shaking as she held out the plait of hair.
Ralph met her gaze, saying nothing, his face a study of thought. Meg could have shook him as she waited. He was wasting time.
‘They’re not professionals,’ he pronounced at last. ‘Two thousand pounds is a lot of money. But if this was aimed at Mr W, they’d be asking for a hell of a lot more. So it seems to me that someone’s found out you have that sort of money. It is that sort of amount?’ he questioned.
‘Yes. Well, more, actually. Mr Chillcott looks after it for me.’
‘Hmm.’ Ralph nodded thoughtfully. ‘But this someone hasn’t the wit to work out you can’t just go and get the money like that. It takes time to withdraw investments, and Mr Chillcott might well question why you want it. And this someone knows you and Jane are friends. Someone who bears a grudge, maybe. Someone who might’ve overheard you discussing your money with the master or mistress.’
Meg had been staring at him, eyes wi
dening and her jaw slowly dropping. ‘My God. You don’t think it could be Esme, do you?’ she breathed incredulously.
Ralph’s eyebrows shot upwards. ‘Esme? But you said it was a man’s voice.’
‘Yes. But as if he was trying to disguise it. And Esme could well be behind it but needed a man to help her in case Jane put up a fight.’
‘Hmm. Well, Esme we could deal with. If it is her. But we don’t know who this man is. Or there might be more than one. And those threats about Jane might not be idle.’
‘Exactly. So, no police.’
‘Not yet, at least. But…’ Ralph took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘We might need to.’
Meg nodded. Gulped. ‘So what…?’
‘I’ll just make an excuse to Mum and Dad, and fetch a coat and a torch. You do the same, and I’ll meet you by the gates in a few minutes. And bring your bike. Don’t tell anyone else. The fewer people who know about this, the better. They must’ve abducted Jane along the lane between here and the village. My guess is somewhere along the middle where they’d be less likely to be seen. We’ll make a systematic search and see if we can find anything. If not, it might have to be the police.’
Meg inhaled shakily. Yes, it might have to be, but at least they were doing something first. She made sure Thimble and none of the other dogs could follow her, and wheeled her bike back to where she’d found Jane’s plait, and where Ralph was waiting as arranged.
He flashed her an encouraging smile, which she returned weakly as they set off down the road. Ralph was convinced Jane’s abductors wouldn’t have struck that near to the house, but it wasn’t long before they started searching. Ralph took one side of the lane, and Meg the other. It was fully dark now, so it wasn’t easy. Ralph had brought a strong flashlight, and Meg had a small torch as well as the front light from her bike as she wheeled it along. Leaves fluttered a murky grey in the weak beam, blades of grass forming a mat of silvery spikes. The hedgerows were black tangles of barb-like thorns and twisting stems, a mysterious, threatening, impenetrable mass. As the night deepened, the verges became a sea of slithering shadows where almost anything might be hidden. And what were they looking for anyway?
‘This is hopeless,’ Meg moaned, desperation clawing at her voice. ‘We’re not going to find anything.’
‘Come on. Where’s that fighting spirit? We’re not giving up yet.’
Meg bit her lip, and focused her eyes on peering into the darkness, concentrating on every little detail. But it was just grass and weeds, sometimes knee-high, and the dense undergrowth of the hedges. You’d never spot anything, and all the while, poor Jane…
‘What’s this? Meg, come here.’
Meg sprang to the opposite side of the tarmac. Ralph was holding something small in his hand. He shone the strong beam from the flashlight onto it.
‘Jane’s purse,’ Meg gasped, trembling as the blood pulsed through her body. She didn’t know whether to be relieved that they’d found something to go on, or horrified that it was further proof of Jane’s abduction.
Ralph pressed the purse into her hand, and then directed the flashlight around where he’d found it. ‘Look. There are some snapped twigs in the hedge, and the grass is trampled. And, ah, ha! A small snag of material on the brambles. This must’ve been where they snatched her. My guess is there was a struggle, and none of them noticed Jane drop her purse.’
‘And if it was Esme, she’d have known Jane always has Tuesday afternoon off and always goes to her parents. So she’d have known pretty well exactly what time Jane would’ve been passing, and they’d just have had to lie in wait for her. Oh, Ralph,’ Meg whispered, her throat tight with horror, ‘they had it all planned.’
‘But not as well as they thought. Look, the grass is flattened along here.’ Ralph gestured along the verge. ‘So they dragged her… to here,’ he said triumphantly. ‘What d’you know! A gate to a field. So they’d have hidden behind this hedge to wait for her. And, hey presto…’ Ralph suddenly grasped her arm. ‘That looks like an old barn at the other side of the field,’ he whispered urgently. ‘And I thought I saw a flicker of light just then. Yes, there it was again. Turn off your torch.’
Meg did exactly that, crouching against the hedge, and staring at Ralph’s back as he, too, sank down into the prickly shadows, hand across his forehead as he thought what to do. And Meg was incredibly relieved he was there.
It seemed an age before he swivelled round to face her. Without their torches, all she could make out of him was a black silhouette, but his familiar, calm voice was immensely comforting.
‘Leave your bike in the hedge,’ he ordered, his voice a forced whisper. ‘We’ll skirt round the edge of the field and get as close as we can.’
Meg nodded, almost paralysed with fear. But she followed Ralph as he kept against the hedgerow, bent low and keeping his pace slow and steady. It was virtually pitch-black and the most petrifying sensation putting each foot down into nothingness, feeling the ruts and tussocks beneath them. They both tripped several times, Ralph warning her of any dip he felt beneath his foot. Meg tried to control her erratic breathing. She must try to keep calm. It wouldn’t do for either of them to turn an ankle – or worse!
Ralph finally came to a halt. ‘This is as near as we can get,’ he hissed in her ear. ‘You wait here. If anything happens, you know what to do.’
Meg nodded. Yes. Her bike. She watched, heart in her mouth, as Ralph crept forward across the open space before being swallowed up in the looming shadow of the barn. She listened, ears straining, but all she could hear was a barn owl calling, and the rustle of a mouse, or maybe it was a vole, in the hedge beside her.
She overflowed with relief when Ralph returned to her side. ‘It’s them, all right,’ he almost spat with disgust. ‘They’ve got Jane. She’s tied up, but she’s unharmed.’
‘Oh, thank God. And—’
‘You were right. It’s Esme. But you’re not going to believe… The man, it’s Nathaniel Green.’
‘What!’ Rage, hatred, spewed up inside her. She sprang to her feet like a jack-in-the-box, and Ralph instantly pulled her down again.
‘Now, listen to me, Meg.’ His voice was low and commanding. ‘I know how you feel about him, but you’ve got to keep a cool head. It only appears to be the two of them, but there could be others involved. And who knows. Green could have a knife. A gun even, though I’d doubt that. But even if he doesn’t have any weapons, I can’t be sure I can overpower him. And then there’s Esme. It could end in disaster. Especially for Jane,’ he concluded as a final warning to convince her. ‘So I want you to go back to your bike. Get to the house as quickly as you can, and phone the police. Try to get that inspector who came before. Bring them here, but no sirens or lights. We need to take them by surprise so that they don’t get a chance to hurt Jane.’
‘And… you?’ Meg croaked.
‘I’ll stay here. Just in case. If they move her, I’ll follow them. But I’ll leave a trail a blind man could follow,’ he added and, even in the dark, Meg saw his teeth flash in a reassuring smile.
‘No heroics, mind,’ she warned him, overcome with affection.
‘I promise. Now, go! And take care.’
She did. She hated leaving Ralph, and yet she was relieved to get away. But she must be careful. Everything depended on her.
It was terrifying, retracing their steps, alone. Stumbling in the pitch-dark. But she must keep calm, stifle her whimpers of fear and desperation. Dismiss the fact that it seemed to be taking her forever to get back safely and undetected.
When she reached the field gate, she wrenched her bike from the hedgerow, dragged it onto the road, and pedalled like the wind.
*
She dutifully waited by the gate as the inspector instructed, watching the policemen silently close in on the barn. Thank God. But suddenly, all hell broke loose. Before the constables had covered much ground, light from inside the barn glimmered across the field as the door opened and a famili
ar figure went in. Ralph!
Meg found herself running, her feet propelling her forward, lurching, tripping. Pulse pounding inside her skull. The inspector and the other policemen broke rank, running now towards the barn. All was chaos, shouting, thuds and crashes from inside. Then shrieking whistles as the police stormed in.
When Meg reached the door, she clung, gasping for breath, to the rickety frame. She’d arrived just in time to see Ralph grappling on the floor with Nathaniel Green. Ralph had the better of him, but Esme was about to hit him over the head with a heavy stick. But she was too late. One constable grabbed her arm in the nick of time, while three others, not sure who was who, pulled the two men apart.
But the inspector evidently recognised Ralph from the previous investigations, and ordered Green and Esme to be handcuffed and led away. Meg was dancing on the spot, not knowing who to go to first, Jane or Ralph. But then she found herself springing over to where a young policeman was releasing Jane from her bonds. The instant she was freed, Jane threw herself into Meg’s arms, sobbing.
‘It’s all right, miss,’ the constable said. ‘I’ll take care of her. I think your friend might need you.’
Meg glanced over to where Ralph had staggered backwards and slumped onto a straw bale, clutching his battered ribs.
‘Will you be OK?’ Meg asked Jane, her heart torn.
But the second the girl nodded, looking up at her handsome saviour with a watery smile, Meg shot over to Ralph. With an emotion that astounded her, she took his face in her hands and lifted his head upwards. Blood was trickling from his split lip, and his cheekbone was badly grazed. His left eye socket was turning red and it was already beginning to swell.
‘I thought you promised no heroics!’ she chastised him.
He smiled sheepishly. ‘I had to. Green hit Jane to stop her snivelling. I saw through a crack in the wall. It made her cry more, and he was about to start kicking her. To give her her due, Esme tried to stop him, but he hit her, too. And then he went to… Well, I had to stop him. I had no choice.’