The Forgotten Children

by Anita Davison

  ‘Brodie must have been aware that you co-operated with the police?’ Bunny pushed away from the desk and began pacing the room, his hands clasped behind his back. There was scant room in an office with five occupants, but Bunny liked to walk as an aid to his thought processes.

  ‘Exactly. I’ve been waiting for the shoe to drop these last few days. I haven’t heard from him at all since the ship was searched, but I cannot see that lasting.’ Buchanan fisted his hands on the desk and glared at the silver egg. ‘I also had no idea there were others of those – things – floating about. How many do you think there are?’

  ‘Maybe you should ask your son?’ An edge crept into Flora’s voice. How could a man be so sensitive to the plight of his own children and yet ignore that of someone else’s?

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this, Raymond?’ Alice came to stand beside his chair, her hand on the back support. ‘I would have helped you.’

  ‘How could I?’ His shoulders hunched in defeat beneath her uncompromising gaze. ‘When I realized what kind of people they were, I couldn’t risk involving you. If all this came out, Victor could go to prison. I couldn’t take that chance.’

  ‘Victor’s a grown man,’ Alice’s voice hardened, ‘you aren’t responsible for his choices.’

  ‘He’s still my son.’ Buchanan sighed.

  The atmosphere grew heavy with embarrassment, the only sounds the odd cough and a shift of a chair on the floorboards, made more ominous by Bunny’s thoughtful pacing. Even Lydia fidgeted in her chair as if she had no wish to be there.

  That these revelations were hard on Mr Buchanan was obvious, though at the same time he seemed relieved to finally share what had become an unendurable burden. Perhaps Alice was right and he was simply a man one who had lost control of an impossible situation.

  ‘What about the Lomax girl?’ Alice broke the silence, apparently not finished with Raymond. ‘Is this Brodie responsible for her disappearance too?’

  ‘I thought so at first, but then the police told me she had most likely wandered away when her nanny was distracted by a man friend.’

  ‘Huh!’ Alice threw away from him. ‘A tidy, convenient theory enabling you to salve your conscience.’ Ignoring his startled protest, she continued, ‘and Ruth’s complicity is shocking. She was a workhouse child, who under my mentoring became a good nurse,’ she paused as if rethinking this opinion, adding, ‘well, efficient anyway.’

  ‘Not everyone can put their past behind them, Miss Finch,’ Bunny said gently. ‘Nor do they wish to. Perhaps whatever scars the workhouse left ran too deep. If she experienced no love in her own life, these children might be no more to her than commodities.’

  ‘And how could you co-operate with such a scheme, even for Victor’s sake?’ She turned on Buchanan, who flinched.

  ‘There will be a time for recriminations, Alice.’ Bunny placed both hands flat on the desk, looming over Buchanan. ‘If, as you claim, you wanted these men exposed, why give the police false information?’

  ‘I-I don’t understand.’ Buchanan’s eyes clouded. ‘What false information?’

  ‘That note Lieutenant Brodie gave you listed the date and time of the ship’s departure. Yet according to the police, the SS Lancett is still berthed at Tilbury.’

  ‘Perhaps they switched ships?’ Flora suggested. ‘Maybe they plan to take the children on another vessel?’

  ‘They don’t have another vessel,’ Buchanan said. ‘Brodie gave me that note so I wouldn’t take on another cargo to spoil his arrangements.’ His face cleared as he looked from Flora to Bunny and back again. ‘I must have mislaid it somewhere between the concert and home that night.’

  ‘I still have it here somewhere.’ Flora retrieved her bag from the floor and rummaged inside.

  ‘You found it?’ Buchanan’s eyebrows lifted.

  ‘Something like that,’ Bunny replied.

  ‘I thought you had given it to the police?’ Lydia edged her chair sideways, giving Flora more room.

  ‘Bunny recited it to Inspector Maddox over the telephone, but I kept the original.’ Flora continued searching her bag. ‘Ah yes, here it is.’

  She handed the paper to Bunny, who laid it on the desk and smoothed out the creases. ‘The writing is spidery and difficult to read. What are these letters “TS” scrawled at the bottom corner?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. As I said, I didn’t write the note,’ Buchanan insisted. ‘I only had the thing a short time before I lost it.’

  ‘There’s nothing here other than what we told Maddox.’ Bunny frowned. ‘Only the name of the ship and the time of sailing. The 4th October.’

  Buchanan straightened, frowning. ‘No, that’s not right. The SS Lancett was scheduled to sail for Halifax, Nova Scotia on 7th October.’

  ‘It’s a simple mistake.’ Bunny ran his thumb beneath the writing. ‘The horizontal line on the number four doesn’t meet up with the top line. This isn’t a four, it’s the continental way of writing a seven.’

  Flora gasped. ‘The seventh! But that’s today!’ She snatched up the paper and peered at it. ‘You have to tell Inspector Maddox. He must go back to that ship and find those children. That might be where they are holding Sally too. If it leaves tonight, we’ll never see her or them again!’ Panic raised her voice an octave.

  ‘Calm down, Flora.’ Bunny’s firm, but comforting hand on her shoulder kept her in her chair. ‘We have to be logical about this. I doubt Inspector Maddox will instigate another raid merely on our say-so. Not after the trouble he got into last time. My guess is, they are keeping those children elsewhere until the last minute in case the ship is being watched.’

  ‘But where?’ Flora raised both hands, palms upwards.

  ‘There must be any number of deserted buildings where they could be without anyone knowing.’ Alice drummed her fingers on the desk in a steady, though irritating tattoo.

  ‘They will need to get the children to the ship sometime before it leaves, so how would they do that?’ Flora asked.

  ‘My guess would be by water.’ Bunny straightened, his gaze fixed on the window as he thought it over. ‘Barges go up and down the river all the time.’

  ‘And who do we know who owns one?’ Flora directed the question to Lydia.

  ‘Swifty Ellis does.’ Lydia’s face brightened. ‘Abel knows where it’s kept. Although he also said it was locked up and empty as recently as yesterday.’

  ‘It’s worth taking a look if I can persuade Maddox to come with us,’ Bunny said. ‘How long do we have before the SS Lancett leaves?’

  Buchanan glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Another five hours or so.’

  ‘Which doesn’t leave us much time,’ Bunny said. ‘Maybe if you told your story first hand to the police, it might help galvanize them into taking action.’ That he should have done so before now was implicit.

  ‘Is that wise?’ Alice placed a hand on Buchanan’s shoulder. ‘The police aren’t known for their capacity for forgiveness. You could be in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘I’m aware of my culpability, Alice, my dear, and quite prepared to accept the consequences.’ Buchanan gripped her hand for a few seconds before rising. ‘Somehow, it’s a relief to have it all out in the open. The most important thing is that we get those children back.’

  ‘Is there something I can do?’ Flora collected her bag from the floor in preparation to leave.

  ‘You should remain here with Lydia and Alice,’ Bunny said, halting her. ‘If – when we find these children, they’ll likely need medical attention, therefore we’ll bring them back here.’ Before he followed Mr Buchanan into the corridor, he swept the silver egg from the desk and slipped it into his pocket.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ Flora whispered, low enough for only him to hear. ‘Surely, you don’t intend showing it to Maddox?’

  ‘Not if I don’t have to.’ He dropped a swift kiss onto her forehead. ‘I’m not leaving it here for anyone to find either. We’ve got one of these things
in rogue hands already.’

  *

  ‘Under normal circumstances, ladies,’ Alice said when they had gone, ‘I would suggest we have some luncheon, but I’m far too anxious to be hungry. Though I’m sure we could all manage some tea.’ She moved to the bell pull beside the fireplace.

  ‘I cannot eat either,’ Flora said, a sentiment echoed by Lydia. ‘What if neither Bunny nor Mr Buchanan can convince the Inspector to search the ship or the docks?’

  ‘We’ll have to hope they manage it somehow,’ Lydia said.

  Having issued instructions to the nurse who responded to the bell, Alice rubbed her upper arms with both hands. ‘It’s gone quite chilly in here.’ She hefted the coal scuttle from the hearth and shook shiny black lumps onto the dying fire. ‘I’m still angry with myself for being so wrong about Ruth Lazarus? I thought I knew her.’

  ‘Perhaps she isn’t directly involved?’ Flora suggested. ‘She could have been acting as a go-between.’ Not that she believed that for a moment, but she longed to reduce Alice’s distress.

  ‘Which reminds me,’ Lydia asked. ‘Where is Sister Lazarus today?’

  ‘I didn’t think of that.’ Flora’s breathing quickened at the thought the nurse might walk in at any moment. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘It’s her day off, and the reason I asked you to come.’ Alice set the scuttle beside the grate, plucked a brass poker from the rack and gave the glowing embers a vigorous stir.

  ‘Well that’s something.’ Flora relaxed, though at the same time wondered if she had accomplices in the hospital they were unaware of.

  ‘That she should blackmail Raymond was cruel, when he’s the kindest of men. However, that doesn’t alter the fact I’m extremely disappointed in him.’

  ‘He was trying to keep his son out of prison,’ Lydia said, compassionate as always. ‘When he realized what he had done it was too late.’

  ‘It’s never too late. He could have stopped it, though there’s no point dwelling on that now.’ Alice hurled the poker back into the rack, making it rattle.

  A nurse arrived bearing a tray, giving Alice an opportunity to busy herself passing cups around and verify who wanted milk or lemon before finally resuming her seat.

  Flora’s composure finally cracked and she set her cup and saucer down hard enough to break the china. ‘I hate sitting here just waiting.’ She looked at each of them in turn, Lydia’s face reflecting her own darkest thoughts, ones she could not bear to voice. Were the children still alive? Was Sally?

  ‘With little choice at the moment, I suggest we keep busy.’ Alice pushed back her chair and stood. ‘I’ll arrange for some temporary beds to be made up on a side ward.’ She stepped into the corridor, calling over her shoulder as she went. ‘Goodness knows where those poor mites have been all this time. At the very least they’ll need a hot meal and a warm place to sleep tonight.’

  ‘Flora,’ Lydia said, halting her, waiting until Alice had put some distance between them before speaking. ‘I hate to say this, but if this Brodie character thinks he and his gang are about to be discovered, they might decide to dispose of those children. Cut their losses as it were.’

  ‘You mean they would—’ Flora swallowed as the full meaning slammed into her. ‘If those children die, this could all be my fault for meddling.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You did what you thought was right. Is right.’ Lydia’s words were comforting but her face reflected Flora’s darkest thoughts.

  Had she done the right thing? Flora wasn’t so sure. Solving puzzles had always struck her as exciting, a challenge to her intellect and powers of observation. The thought that her meddling might result in such an outcome horrified her. Were the children still alive? Was Sally?

  ‘Come on.’ Flora linked her arm through Lydia’s and hurried to where Alice had waylaid two workmen to whom she issued instructions.

  The men touched their temples respectfully before hurrying away.

  ‘I’ve asked them to fetch truckle beds from the stores and set them up in that room beside the recovery ward.’ Alice said when they reached her, a finger pressed to her cheek, thinking. ‘Next is linens.’ She threw open the door of a cupboard, revealing rows of tightly packed shelves on three walls that smelled of bleach and sawdust. Having loaded their arms with sheets, blankets and pillows, she led them into a room not much larger than her own office, where the men had completed setting up temporary beds with thin ticking mattresses. ‘It’s not as salubrious as our main wards, but it will do very well.’

  ‘It’s been a while since I’ve made a bed,’ Flora said, surprised at how easily she fell into a rhythm of tucking in bedding and plumping pillows. As she folded corners and tucked in blankets, memories returned of her morning ritual in the cosy attic rooms she shared with Riordan Maguire at Cleeve Abbey.

  They had almost finished, when a knock at the door announced Forbes, who informed them that a gentleman was on the telephone asking for Mrs Harrington. ‘He says he’s your husband, madam.’

  Flora followed him back towards the main entrance, stopping every few yards to make way for a steady stream of patients with hacking coughs who arrived on foot, while others lay motionless on trolleys, their skin grey and chests barely moving. Doctors, porters, and kitchen staff flowed past on their way to the wards, kitchens and consulting rooms.

  Forbes directed her to a three sided cubicle behind his desk where the telephone was located.

  ‘What’s happening, Bunny?’ Flora demanded into the speaker without preamble, the earpiece pressed to her head. She placed her other hand over her other ear to shut out the ambient noises of the entrance hall where the doors opened and flapped shut repeatedly with a loud whooshing noise.

  ‘The situation isn’t quite as we had hoped,’ Bunny’s voice came down the line, clear but feint. ‘Maddox is sympathetic, but he doubts he can instigate another search of the SS Lancett without more proof. A number on a note is not convincing enough to interest the Marine Police.’

  ‘What about Mr Buchanan’s version of events? Isn’t that enough to take action?’

  ‘Possibly, but the interview is taking too long and was becoming somewhat intense. The upshot being that Mr Buchanan feels threatened, so has asked me to be his legal representative.’

  ‘But you aren’t a criminal lawyer. Not yet.’

  ‘Which I pointed out, several times. However, he was becoming distressed so how could I refuse? Now I’ve been engaged, I’m legally bound to protect him.’

  ‘I understand you wish to help Mr Buchanan, but we’re running out of time.’ She turned around and glanced at the entrance hall clock. ‘Even if Inspector Maddox convinces his superiors to help, you’ll never reach Tilbury in time to stop the SS Lancett.’

  ‘I know, which brings me to the real point of my call.’ A high-pitched squeal came down the line. Flora snatched the earpiece away, wincing, returning it when it stopped.

  ‘Sorry, Bunny, I didn’t hear that. What did you say?’

  ‘I said, if we could intercept Brodie and his cohorts before they reach the ship, we could still save those children.’

  ‘And Sally? What about her?’ If anything happened to her maid, Flora would always blame herself for having persuaded her to spy on Buchanan at the concert.

  ‘We have to hope for the best where Sally is concerned. Now, I was thinking about this barge Abel Cain found? Where did he say it was moored?’

  ‘St Saviour’s Dock, or was it Jacob’s Island. I’m not sure which, but I believe they are close together. Why don’t you ask Abel yourself? Isn’t he with you?’

  ‘What do you mean? I left him at the hospital.’

  ‘Oh, well, never mind.’ She gave the entrance hall a brief glance but there was no sign of Abel, although she couldn’t worry about him at that moment. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Maddox isn’t being obstructive, he’s as frustrated as I am. His superintendent doesn’t like the Salvation Army inference, so is blocking him.’ The line crackled, ma
king Bunny’s voice sound as if he was a long way off, every fourth word muffled by background noise.

  ‘Bunny?’ She grimaced, her free hand pressed to her other ear to block out ambient sounds. ‘What if we went to St Saviour’s dock to see if the barge is being used?’

  ‘That’s isn’t a good idea, Flora. It could be dangerous.’

  ‘We shan’t confront anyone, just observe until you and the police arrive—’

  ‘No! Flora! I really don’t—’

  She returned the earpiece to the cradle, giving the instrument a pat with a whispered, ‘Sorry, Bunny. This is too important.’ She swung around, almost colliding with a young man, whose features solidified into that of Dr Reid.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor. I didn’t see you there.’ He was dressed for the outdoors in a tweed coat with contrast stitching, though he no longer wore his ubiquitous leather apron.

  ‘Mrs Harrington, isn’t it? How nice to see you again.’ His gaze roved her face slowly.

  ‘And you,’ she replied, mildly surprised that he had remembered her name. ‘Did you manage to find a new home for your X-ray machine?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no. But I shan’t give up. Forgive me, but I couldn’t help overhearing you on the telephone just now. You sounded distressed. Is there something I can do to help?’

  ‘It’s kind of you to ask, but I don’t think so.’ She tried to skirt round him, suddenly uneasy at the thought he might have overheard her conversation.

  ‘Are you sure?’ He moved into her path and grasped her upper arm. ‘I’m quite resourceful.’ He bent close enough so the fine stubble on his chin stood out clearly. ‘I gather your husband is not here, so having a man on hand might be an advantage?’

  ‘No, in fact that was him on the telephone.’ She tried not to recoil from his touch but there was something insistent about it. ‘Aren’t you needed here? I mean what with all these new admissions.’ She nodded to where the entrance was four deep with new arrivals.’

  ‘I’m not officially staff. I’m a research scientist. So if there is any way I can—’