‘Oh my God!’ Maggie clapped her hand across her mouth.
‘Anyway,’ the policeman went on, ‘this morning, the vicar and his wife paid Mrs Evans an early-morning call only to find the cottage door unlocked. When they couldn’t make anyone hear them, they took the liberty of letting themselves in to make sure that all was as it should be, and that’s when they found your letter discarded on the chair. The child’s case was gone, as were some of her clothes, so we can only assume that Mrs Evans has taken her off somewhere.’
‘Is she likely to hurt her?’ Maggie asked brokenly.
He shook his head. ‘That is highly unlikely, especially as she thinks the child is her own daughter. Even now I have men scouring the area for them. There’s no record of them taking a train anywhere so we have to presume that they’re still in the area. As for Danny, the police have already traced your mother-in-law in Coventry, and been to visit her, and as yet there’s no sign of him, or his friend, Gus. As soon as there is, I assure you they’ll let us know.’
Maggie sank weakly down onto the bottom step as despair engulfed her. Now she looked in grave danger of losing the twins too, and if she did, she didn’t know how she would find the strength to go on. They were all she had left to live for now.
‘Should I get back to Coventry?’ she asked the sober-faced officer.
He shook his head. ‘I think perhaps it would be best if you stayed here until we’ve located Lizzie. Then, when we know she’s safe and sound, we’ll decide what’s best to do about your son. For all we know, he could be around here somewhere too.’ Turning his attention back to Eric, he asked, ‘Will it be all right if Mrs Bright stays here for a while, sir?’
‘Yes . . . yes, of course it will,’ Eric replied quickly. It was the least he could do until there was some resolution to this dreadful affair.
Once the officer had left, Maggie began to pace up and down the kitchen like a caged animal. She felt as if she was being torn in two, for half of her wanted to get home to Coventry in case Danny showed up there, and the other half wanted to stay here until Lizzie was found.
Eric was on tenterhooks too, and eventually he rose and began to put on his outdoor clothes.
‘I think I might just go and have another scout round,’ he told her as he struggled into his boots, which were still sodden from the night before.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Maggie volunteered immediately, but he shook his head.
‘No - it might be best if you stayed here in case there’s any news about either of them. Just help yourself to anything you want while I’m gone. I’m sure you’ll soon find your way about.’
‘Thank you. It’s . . . very good of you to let me stay.’ She still found it hard to look at him when she addressed him, for the scars on his face were hideous. He was obviously aware of the fact and all the time he was talking to her he self-consciously turned his head so that only the unscarred side of his face showed.
When she realised this, a tremor of sympathy ran through her and she tried to look at him differently. In fact, she realised that, had it not been for his disfigurement, he would actually have been a very attractive man. His hair was thick and as black as coal, and the one visible eye was a deep sapphire blue. She briefly wondered what might have happened to him to cause the scars, but her mind was too full of her children’s plight to dwell on it for long and she was soon pacing again as she nervously chewed on her nails. As he moved across the room she suddenly asked, ‘Did you get on well with Danny?’
‘Danny and I got on very well when we came to know each other,’ he replied quietly, ‘but I’d better get on. I’ll er . . . I’ll see you later.’ Calling Samson to his side, he yanked the door open.
When the door closed behind him, the silence seemed to close in on Maggie and panic started to get a grip. It was so quiet here. She was used to the noise of traffic, having lived in a city all her life, so this remote house was difficult to get used to. It was so isolated and so . . . she searched in her mind for the word she was looking for. Sad! That was it. This was a sad house in all ways - as if the owner’s grief had somehow rubbed off on it. Somehow she sensed that Eric was sad - and not just because of Danny’s disappearance. There was something about him that told her he was lonely. Perhaps she could see it because she had been lonely herself. She had been trapped for years in a loveless marriage, and deep down she had always yearned for David, who had been the first love of her life. As she thought of him now, a great well of sadness opened up inside her. They were both free now, yet life had changed them, and the closeness they’d once shared seemed to have vanished as if it had never been.
Sighing, she looked around the room. It was reasonably clean, and yet somehow it looked unloved. That was it - sad and unloved. Maggie was very tired but unused to being idle so she decided to tidy up a little. It would give her something to do and make her feel that she was earning her keep, as well as keeping her mind off what was happening.
After rummaging around behind the curtain that hung beneath the sink, she managed to find some polish and old rags, and crossing to the heavy oak table, she began to clean it. Then, systematically, she worked her way around the kitchen until every single piece of furniture shone. Next she turned her attention to the huge sashcord windows. A drop of vinegar in water would soon sort them out. Very soon they were shining too, so now she began to rearrange the pieces of furniture that she could manage to move. Hands on hips, she stood back to survey her handiwork and smiled as she saw that the room was beginning to look cosy. The floor was the next thing to get her attention, though that took slightly longer for it was enormous compared to the small kitchen floor she was used to back at home. By the time she was done, she was breathless and some of her hair, which she’d tied into a ponytail with a pretty red ribbon, had escaped into little wispy tendrils that framed her heart-shaped face. Unable to find an apron, she had popped a huge artist’s smock on, and now as she caught sight of herself in the mirror that hung above the mantelshelf she couldn’t help but grin. She certainly looked a sight and was glad there was no one there to see her.
As she turned, her eyes were drawn to the small easel with a picture propped up on it. Crossing to it, she gazed at it admiringly. It was so lifelike that she felt she could almost hear the wind in the trees that swept down to the sea.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
Maggie had been so absorbed in the painting that when the voice sounded at the side of her she almost jumped out of her skin. She turned startled eyes to see Eric looking past her at the painting. Very aware of what a state she was in, she hastily tried to scrape her hair back into its ponytail.
‘Sorry, I er . . . I didn’t hear you come in,’ she said as colour crept into her cheeks, and she was shocked to see that it was almost lunchtime.
Eric saw the question in her eyes and said, ‘I’m afraid there’s no news on either of them as yet, but try not to worry. The village men are out scouring the countryside for Lizzie and I’ve no doubt the police in Coventry will be doing the same for Danny. We’re bound to find them soon. I’ve taken the liberty of asking the police to let your mother-in-law know that Lizzie is missing too and that you’ll be staying on here until she’s found.’
Maggie’s shoulders sagged as she walked despondently to the window. It was such a vast expanse out there. How would they ever find such a little girl in all that space? And where was Danny? What if he’d arrived home while Coventry was being bombed? Had he been caught in the air raid? Was he lying dead somewhere?
Turning quickly away from the window she was just in time to see Eric staring around in astonishment.
‘Good grief! How did you ever manage to make the place look like this?’
‘Elbow grease,’ she told him. ‘After you went out I needed something to do to keep me occupied so I set to. I hope you don’t mind? I thought perhaps it would show my appreciation for you letting me stay here.’
‘You didn’t have to,’ he told her. ‘But as for
minding . . . well, of course I don’t mind! Everywhere just looks so . . . so homely. I have to admit, I’m not the best when it comes to prettying the place up. But you’ve done wonders. You must be worn out, Mrs Bright. How about I make us some dinner now as my way of saying thank you?’
‘I’ll tell you what. How about we do it together?’ she said shyly. ‘I actually quite enjoy cooking and I’d like to stay busy.’
He nodded in agreement and soon they were standing side by side at the sink peeling potatoes and carrots. Slowly, the atmosphere became less strained as he told her about some of the things he and Danny had been doing together during her son’s stay with him.
She found herself smiling as he told her about Soho Gus and Sparky, and the mischief the three of them had got up to. It also struck her that he was speaking of Danny with genuine affection.
‘I didn’t want to take an evacuee,’ he admitted, ‘but Miss Williams who was organising all the billets is very hard to say no to. Until Danny came I rarely ventured down into the village unless it was to take a trip to the post office or buy supplies.’
Peering at him, she asked, ‘Don’t you get lonely, stuck up here in the back of beyond all by yourself?’
He shook his head. ‘Not at all. In fact, that was the reason I bought this place. So that I could be on my own.’
Maggie frowned. It seemed that her earlier assumption had been right then. Eric was lonely - from choice, it seemed. But something must have happened in his past to make him feel that way.
‘Have you lived here for long?’
‘About seven years or so now.’
‘And where did you live before?’
He threw the paring knife into the sink. ‘I reckon it’s about time I filled the log basket,’ he told her shortly, and turning on his heel he marched away.
Maggie sighed, wondering when she would ever learn to keep her big mouth shut. What business was it of hers what he’d done in his past anyway? Lifting the knife, she finished preparing the vegetables. From now on she would try to be more careful. She might only be here for a few more hours or days. Then again, it could be longer so the least said about his personal life the better. He was obviously a very private person and she would have to learn to respect that.
Lifting the heavy pan, she carried it to the range then hurried upstairs to tidy herself up.
The next four days were the longest of Maggie’s life. Each morning, Eric would join the men from the village as they gradually extended their search of the area for Lizzie. But it was as if she had vanished into thin air and each day he would arrive home dispirited and sad.
Thankfully, they were once again on better terms, possibly because Maggie studiously avoided asking him any personal questions.
In the time that she’d been there, she had totally transformed Tremarfon; the house was now warm and welcoming. She’d washed and ironed every scrap of clothing she could lay her hands on, as well as all the bedding, which had resulted in Eric coming back most days to find wet washing strung from a line on the ceiling that stretched from one end of the room to another.
‘It’s getting to look like a Chinese laundry in here,’ he had teased her. ‘If I’m not careful you’ll be putting me in the copper next.’
‘I don’t think you’d fit in,’ she smiled back, but the smile did nothing to hide the fear and heartache she was feeling and he saw through her brave front and felt her pain.
Strangely, he found that he too was missing Danny more than he could have imagined, and it came as quite a shock to him. He came home late one afternoon to find Maggie in the dining room gazing up in awe at the portrait of the fair-haired woman.
‘Did you paint this?’ she dared to ask.
As his eyes locked onto the portrait, he nodded.
‘She’s very beautiful,’ Maggie said.
‘Was,’ he told her. ‘She was beautiful. She’s dead now, but . . . she was my wife.’
Maggie stared at him in dismay. ‘Oh, Eric, I’m so sorry. Trust me to go and put my big foot in it again.’
She half-expected him to storm away again, but instead he slowly shook his head. ‘Don’t be. You weren’t to know.’ His eyes grew misty as he gazed at the serene face in the picture. ‘Her name was Georgia,’ he told her and she held her breath. ‘She came from a very good family and they weren’t altogether thrilled when she took up with me. I think they had set their sights higher for her. But you know what it’s like when you fall in love. We would have eaten beans just so long as we could be together. As it turned out, she would have been better to listen to them. If she had, she’d still be alive.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Maggie whispered, and without thinking, she reached out and gently took his hand. It was the first physical contact they’d had and she was surprised when his large fingers curled around her smaller ones. A tear squeezed out of the corner of his good eye and she suddenly had the urge to wipe it away. She controlled the feeling and feeling strangely embarrassed, slid her fingers from his.
‘I think it’s about time we both had a break,’ she said, hoping to lighten the mood, and turning about, she hurried from the room.
It was much later that evening when she found her eyes drawn to the small easel in the corner again. ‘Did you do that painting too?’ she asked Eric.
The man gulped as he struggled to find the right words.
‘Actually, no, I didn’t. Danny did it. He has a real flair for art, as you’re probably aware. It was meant to be his Christmas present to you. I promised him I’d get it framed for you when it was finished.’
‘Oh!’ Suddenly, Maggie couldn’t hold back her pent-up emotions for another second and a strangled sob escaped her as she bent her head into her hands.
Eric was beside her in a trice and gathered her into his arms. ‘Please, Maggie, don’t cry,’ he soothed as he rocked her back and forth. ‘Danny will be all right, and so will Lizzie. You’ll see.’
The time was ticking away and Maggie wasn’t so sure now.
‘Please, can I come with you when you go out searching tomorrow?’ she pleaded through her sobs. ‘I feel as if I shall go mad if I have to sit here waiting for news for another single day.’
He suddenly realised how selfish he had been, leaving her alone for hour after hour. He’d thought he was saving her from having to tramp through the bitterly cold drifts, but now he understood her need to be involved in the search for her children.
‘Of course you can, if that’s what you want,’ he promised. ‘We’ll start to look for them again first thing tomorrow.’
Sighing, she nestled back into his arms, enjoying the comforting warmth of another human being.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Maggie was up at first light and wrapped for outdoors by the time Eric put in an appearance.
‘You’re an early worm,’ he remarked as he crossed to the teapot on the table.
‘Well, you know what they say. The early bird catches the worm,’ she smiled. She felt much better today, now that she was finally going to be allowed to join in the search. Sensing her need to be doing something constructive, Eric gulped a cup of tea down and hastily got ready.
Within minutes they were on their way down the hillside. Thankfully there had been no fresh snowfalls for two days, but the snow that remained was hardpacked and frozen, making it treacherous underfoot. More than once, Maggie would have gone headfirst, had Eric not caught her, but she ploughed on regardless.
The village was just coming to life when they turned onto the road that led through it and Maggie saw a small pasty-faced boy leaning against a lamppost.
She smiled at him as they went to walk past and he suddenly asked, ‘Are you Danny’s mam?’
Maggie paused. ‘Yes, I am,’ she told him solemnly. ‘Do you know him?’
‘Course I do,’ he retorted. ‘E’s me mate. Me name’s Sparky.’
‘How do you do, Sparky. Danny mentioned you in his letters.’ As a thought occurred to her she asked
hopefully, ‘You don’t happen to know where he is, do you?’
‘Nah,’ Sparky wheezed, and she was troubled to see the blue tinge that had settled around his lips.
‘Oh . . . Well, thanks anyway.’ Masking her disappointment, she was just about to move on when Sparky piped up, ‘I know where Lizzie is though.’
Maggie gripped tight to Eric’s arm as she gazed at him incredulously, hardly daring to believe her ears. ‘Are you quite sure?’
He nodded as he pulled himself away from the lamppost. ‘I could take yer to ’er if yer liked. But I warn yer, it’s a long way ter go.’
Hardly daring to believe him, she stared at Eric. By now, a few of the village men had emerged from their homes to start the search for Lizzie, just as they had every single day since she had disappeared.
One of them shook his head doubtfully. ‘You’re not at your best, Sparky. Perhaps it would be easier if you just told us where she is.’
Sparky shrugged. ‘I can’t tell yer the way, I can only show yer. An’ I’ll be all right, ’onest I will.’
The police officer who had visited Tremarfon earlier in the week had also joined them by now and he took control of the situation immediately.
‘Very well. If the lad says he’s all right to lead us, we have to take his word for it.’
One of the village men leaned towards him and whispered, ‘Sparky isn’t all the ticket, you know. He could be dragging us all off on a wild-goose chase.’
‘You’re quite right,’ the policeman answered coolly. ‘But do you want to take the risk of not checking it out?’
‘I suppose not,’ the small, grey-haired man muttered.
With Sparky leading, the procession began to wend its way through the village. Maggie’s heart was pounding so loudly against her ribcage that she was sure the others must be able to hear it. With every step she took, she breathed a silent prayer that they would find her daughter safe and well, but she couldn’t rid herself of a terrible sense of foreboding. If what she had heard was true, then Blodwyn Evans had lost her mind and could be capable of anything.
Moonlight and Ashes Page 37