The Lost Child

by Ann Troup

  Brodie shrugged, ‘No reason, just curious, oh and she’s still alive – just. She had a stroke though, and can’t talk’

  Jack laughed, ‘Blow me, I remember her as pretty ancient then!’

  Brodie thanked him again, and let herself out round the side of the house so that she wouldn’t have to see Mrs Pearson again; she’d had enough of disapproving looks lately.

  As she waited for the next bus it felt like the whole venture had led her to a dead end, just as dead as the ones Jack Pearson had been led to. She reached into her pocket, the presence of the little dog that lay dirty and bedraggled in the warmth of her hand told her something different. Someone in Hallow’s End knew more than they were letting on and Brodie was going to find out exactly what it was.

  *

  Inside the safety and relative sanity of Meadowfoot Cottage Elaine examined the gift that Albert Gardiner-Hallow had bestowed upon her. Inside the tiny jar was something small, hard and black which lay alongside a tiny piece of paper. No doubt describing when and where it was found if Albert’s cataloguing was to be relied upon.

  The rot of age had perished the rubber seal and rusted the metal clip that held the lid in place. The glass was rimed with old, adherent dust. The jar wasn’t going to release its contents easily, and it was hard to see through the grimy glass. Wiping it clean revealed the object inside to be a small glass eye, the type used for soft toys. Elaine couldn’t read the paper, it was rolled up and until she was able to loosen the lid she couldn’t remove it.

  She had no idea what relevance the eccentric old man had placed on the item, or why he thought it might make sense to her. Curious, but mostly indifferent, she placed it on the mantel shelf and pretty much forgot about it.

  Brodie was coming for dinner that night and Elaine had promised to cook her favourite meal – lasagne and garlic bread, all homemade. Apparently it was something Tony used to cook for her when he had lived at home, and the girl associated the dish with comfort. According to Brodie, Shirley’s speciality was anything that could be rammed into a microwave or shoved under a grill. Elaine couldn’t imagine that Brodie would go hungry at Miriam’s, but she wasn’t going to complain about the company. Without Brodie, she too would have just shoved something under the grill and made do. Having someone to cook for made it worth the effort. As she started to assemble the ingredients there was knock at the door. She was surprised to find Alex in the porch, holding a huge bunch of flowers.

  ‘I hear we owe you a debt of gratitude, my aunt tells me you were a great help with my uncle this morning. I wanted to bring you these to say thank you.’ He handed her the bouquet, an exquisite blend of hothouse flowers – hand-tied and expensive.

  She was completely taken aback by this gesture. When Alex had shouted at his aunt and stormed out of Hallow’s Court that morning Elaine had written him off as an egotistical brat. She took the flowers and tried to keep the look of surprise off her face. ‘They’re lovely, but really, there was no need. I’m glad I could help.’

  ‘May I come in?’ Alex asked, his foot already making its way onto the doorstep.

  Elaine was acutely aware that the kitchen looked like the aftermath of a food fight in a supermarket, but the lounge was still fine having been fussed at and dusted by Miriam that morning. ‘Of course, but please excuse the mess, I was just about to start cooking.’

  Once he was inside he followed her through to the kitchen, much to her dismay. She had hoped to stall him in the lounge and hide the chaos. ‘I’ll have to see if there is a vase somewhere.’ she said, casting about for a bit of clear surface where she could rest the flowers.

  Alex was leaning against the sink unit, arms folded and watching her with amused benevolence. ‘I’m sure there will be. My aunt would have considered it an absolute necessity, even in a holiday cottage. If not, I’m sure Miriam will lend you one.’

  Elaine smiled at him and decided to worry about the flowers later. ‘I would offer you a drink, but unless you’d like tea or instant coffee I’m afraid my hospitality is a little lacking.’

  Alex smiled. ‘Tell you what, why don’t we pop down to the village pub for a drink? It’s a lovely afternoon and there’s nothing better than a cold beer on a summer’s day. What do you say?’

  Elaine eyed the ingredients she had laid out for Brodie’s supper as if they might provide an excuse to say no. The reality was that it would take her less than an hour to make the food, and Brodie wasn’t due until six. It was now two. She had mixed feelings about Alex, but had to admit his mercurial character intrigued her. Now that Jean had been disposed of she didn’t even have her to worry about and it suddenly occurred to Elaine that she was free to do exactly as she pleased. ‘Why not? Give me a minute to put all this away and I’ll be with you.’

  Alex beamed. ‘That’s the spirit!’

  Although the pub was less than a quarter of a mile away, Alex insisted on driving. Elaine felt faintly ridiculous climbing into the immaculate, brand new BMW in her casual clothes. She felt like a bag lady in comparison to Alex, who was as suave and chic as his car. Whereas she was clothed in crumpled linen which still showed traces of Jean around the hems. Fortunately, when they reached the pub her garb seemed more the norm than his. If Elaine had stood out so sorely she would have been mortified by the attention, but Alex lapped it up as he stepped out of the car and drew the stares of the clientele.

  Dutifully she followed Alex up the path to the door of the pub. As they passed a garden table she overheard a couple of men exchanging what they must have assumed were a series of sly, sotto voce comments. ‘Look out, ‘ere comes Lord Bountiful, don’t forget to doff yer cap Ted.’

  Ted had pulled a face and whispered, ‘Looks like he’s got his latest squeeze in tow. Not his usual taste in crumpet that’s for sure.’

  The other man had lifted his pint and shaken his head. ‘Nah, yer right there Ted, p’raps he’s decided to keep it clean now he wants our votes.’

  Alex had gone on inside, but Elaine lingered in the porch for a moment wanting to hear what else the men had to say.

  ‘Little fucker ain’t getting my vote. Tory bastard. Besides, ain’t many round here’ll forget what he done. We might forgive, but we never forgets.’

  Elaine would have liked to hear more of what Ted couldn’t forget, but Alex was waving her towards the bar. ‘What’s it to be, Elaine? Fancy a G ‘n’ T, or how about a Pimms, it’s quite the day for it.’

  She plumped for the Pimms, gin always made her think of sodden old hags in Hogarth engravings. They took their drinks into the garden and found a table under some dappled shade, well away from Ted and his equally vocal companion. Alex raised his glass. ‘Cheers!’

  Elaine reiterated the salutation and said, ‘I had the impression that you were here on a flying visit. Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘Not really, I’m due back in London tomorrow. But I had a bit of business to attend to today, thought I’d stay and touch base with the relics at home, and remind the locals that I’ll be counting on their votes soon.’ He bestowed her with a white-toothed smile and sipped his drink; he’d gone for the gin.

  ‘Well, there’s no point in schmoozing me Alex, I’m not in your constituency.’ she quipped.

  He lifted his glass and tilted it towards her, ‘My interest in you has nothing to do with politics. I can assure you.’

  Elaine felt her cheeks begin to blush, and realised that, as usual, her hand had reached up to her neck seemingly of its own volition. She really needed to break that habit.

  Alex looked at her and narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. ‘For instance, that scar you so carefully try to hide. It intrigues me. How did you get it?’

  The question shocked Elaine, she wasn’t used to people being quite so direct. She was aware that she was looking at him with her mouth open. She shut it and looked down at her glass.

  ‘Oh my dear girl, I’ve offended you! I’m so very sorry, it’s the politician in me, straight to the point and no regard for th
e opposition.’ He reached across and put his hand on top of hers. It was all she could do not to instinctively pull it away. ‘Please forgive me, I’m an oaf.’

  He looked genuinely sorry and she felt a fool for being so sensitive. Brodie had been right, if you wanted to hide something it was better to put it into plain sight. ‘Please don’t apologise, it’s me. I suppose I’m a little conscious of it because most people pointedly avoid noticing it. I don’t remember very clearly, but it was some kind of accident with a sheet of glass when I was very young – so my mother told me.’

  Alex nodded. ‘If it bothers you I’m sure a good surgeon could tidy it up. I have a few contacts who might be able to help.’

  It had never occurred to Elaine that the scar could be altered. Jean’s hospital phobia had not inclined either of them to seek medical attention when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. To demand attention for something purely cosmetic smacked of the kind of vanity that would have horrified her mother. Had Elaine broached the subject of cosmetic surgery Jean would have run for the carbolic soap and washed her daughter’s mouth out. ‘It’s fine, I’m used to it.’ she mumbled.

  ‘I can see that I’m making you feel uncomfortable Elaine, and that’s the last thing I want to do. Let’s change the subject shall we? Tell me what brought you to Hallow’s End?’

  Uncomfortable wasn’t the word for it. Elaine felt as though every inch of her personal space had been invaded by this forthright man, it seemed that he could see right through her and she found his rhetoric both intimidating and compelling. Alex wasn’t a man it would be easy to say no to. ‘My mother recently died and I decided to take a bit of a holiday. Devon seems like a nice place and Hallow’s End sounded intriguing so here I am.’ She could hardly tell him she had deposited her mother all over his garden and had come with the express intent of disposing of her somewhere in the vicinity.

  He was looking at her intently, hanging on her every word. ‘I’m sorry for your loss Elaine. Do you have other family?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nope, just me. I’m little orphan Annie.’ She said it with a hollow little laugh.

  Alex offered her a wistful smile. ‘I know that feeling; I lost both my parents when I was a child. I barely remember them. I think it came as quite a shock to poor old Ada when she realized the only thing that her sister had left her was me. She did her best, and Esther was a godsend. That woman is the nearest thing to a mother I’ve ever had, fortunately for me she adored me and spoiled me rotten.’ He paused and drained his glass. ‘What a childhood eh? Running around that great big house with no one to rein me in except a huddle of spinsters and a mad old uncle.’

  ‘I thought your uncle was rather sweet.’

  Alex frowned, as if the applying the word sweet to Albert was an alien concept. ‘Yes, I suppose people might see him that way. To me he was just a funny old man who didn’t understand children. He’s harmless enough, just not quite on the same planet as the rest of us.’

  Elaine thought about the eccentric old man and envied him his ability to exist on a different plane. ‘I suppose a lot of people would have loved your childhood, all that freedom and that wonderful house. I’m sure having your parents there would have been preferable though.’

  An expression flickered over Alex’s face, which for a moment looked like confusion to Elaine. Within a second it was gone and was replaced by his usual suave confidence. ‘I suppose I didn’t miss what I never had. As for the house, wonderful yes, but hideously expensive to run and maintain. I keep trying to talk Uncle into selling up but he’ll have none of it, even though I think they would both be better off in something smaller and easier to live in. Neither of them are getting any younger, and if I’m honest I don’t fancy having to face the inheritance tax.’ He paused and pulled a wry face. ‘Much as I love the old pile I’m a city boy at heart. All this country air is somewhat soporific, don’t you think?’

  ‘But that’s a good thing, isn’t it? A place where you can relax and unwind.’ Elaine had finished her own drink by then.

  ‘Who needs to relax when there’s life to live? Another drink?’

  He was already rising from the table. Elaine glanced at her watch, ‘Actually I ought to be getting back, I’m cooking supper for a friend.’

  Alex sighed, ‘Ah well, another time then. Perhaps I could take you out to dinner next time I’m down?’

  Elaine was a little confused; surely he knew she was only here for a week or so? ‘I imagine I will be long gone by then, but thank you for asking.’

  ‘Oh I don’t know Elaine, you never know when I might turn up. Would you like me to drive you back to the cottage?’

  Having been strangely disconcerted by the whole encounter Elaine politely declined and said she would walk. ‘Besides, it looks like someone is waiting to talk to you.’ She pointed to a woman who had been sitting at a table behind Alex for the last five minutes, giving him looks that could kill.

  At her words Alex turned. ‘Maria! How lovely to see you.’

  By the look on the woman’s face Elaine doubted whether their meeting was going to be lovely at all. She thanked Alex for the drink and the flowers and said goodbye. As she walked away she could hear him explaining that ‘she was just a guest’ and that ‘the bloody flowers were just a thank you’. She was almost out of earshot when the last words reached her – ‘for Christ’s sake Maria, what’s your bloody problem?’ Elaine was quite glad she hadn’t had to stay to find out.

  *

  When Brodie arrived she seemed tense and preoccupied and claimed it was worry about her mother. Elaine offered to drive her to Woodlawn the next day so that she could visit but Brodie was reluctant, saying that she had phoned the hospital and that Shirley wasn’t up to seeing anyone. Eventually Elaine had to let it go, whatever was bothering the girl she wasn’t going to give it up easily. Several times she had thought to mention the strange events that had moulded her own day, but something about Brodie’s mood put her off. In the end Elaine decided that feeding the strangeness was probably not a good idea and that what they needed was some stark normality, some fun. ‘Hey, why don’t we go into town tomorrow and see a film, or go bowling?’

  Brodie prodded at her food. ‘If you like. Might as well.’

  Elaine decided to have one more stab at getting to the bottom of what was wrong. ‘Brodie, has something happened? You don’t seem yourself today. I know you’re worried about your mum but it feels like there is something more on your mind. You can talk to me you know.’

  Brodie had moved on to shredding up lumps of garlic bread and rolling the dough into little pellets, which littered her plate. ‘Just stuff, that’s all. Anyway, what were you doing in the pub this afternoon? I saw you with that Alex bloke.’

  Elaine pointed to the flowers, now inelegantly displayed in a teapot. The only vase she had found had been a rather valuable Minton effort, rather than risk damaging it she had plumped for the teapot. ‘He brought those for me and took me for a drink as a thank you.’ She went on to tell the tale of her brush with the elder Gardiner-Hallows.

  Brodie pulled a face. ‘They sound so posh. That Alex bloke was at our place the other night, I didn’t like him, he’s smarmy. The old bids love him though.’

  ‘Yes they do, I noticed that when I was there. From what I can gather they had quite a hand in bringing him up, he was orphaned and apparently Esther was a kind of surrogate mother to him. I must admit Ada didn’t strike me as the motherly type.’ Elaine stood and started to clear the plates.

  Brodie snorted. ‘What? And Esther does? Is it those Tasmanian Devil things that eat their own young? She’d be like that I reckon.’

  Elaine laughed. ‘David Attenborough has a lot to answer for!’

  ‘It’s true though, they do. I reckon Esther could eat a baby.’ Brodie said it without thinking and the image in her mind shocked her. Was she really that callous?

  ‘What, with some fava beans and a nice chianti?’

  ‘Eh?’

  E
laine considered explaining the reference, but figured encouraging a conversation on cannibalism wasn’t the best move. ‘Anyway, from what I saw she absolutely worships Alex, so I think he’s safe don’t you?’

  ‘Huh! He might be safe from her, but he’s not too popular in the village. I’ve overheard a few things about him.’

  ‘Like what?’ Elaine was curious, having heard a few things herself in the pub that day.

  ‘Well Miriam said that when the GHs sold off the land, they couldn’t sell it with sitting tenants so some of the farmers got kicked out of their homes. Some of them had farmed there for centuries. One bloke actually shot himself over it and everyone in the village blamed that Alex dude. Said it was his fault they’d sold the land, and his fault the farmer had killed himself. Miriam says that people don’t understand and that times change, she says that people round here are stuck in a time warp.’

  That would explain what the two men in the pub had been talking about, Elaine thought. ‘Well, there are always two sides to a story and it’s easy to see both. Very few people can afford to run big estates these days, and no one wants to be forced out of their home. It’s very sad, but no one’s fault.’ she said sagely.

  Brodie pondered it for a moment. ‘Yeah, but if someone shot themselves so some bloke could swan about in an expensive car being flash, you’d be a bit pissed off too wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I might not be very happy, but I’d refrain from swearing about it Brodie.’

  Brodie blushed. ‘Sorry “Mum”’ she poked her tongue out. ‘Anyway I heard something else too, in the shop. They reckon he got some local girl pregnant and paid her family off to keep them quiet. Apparently she swears blind the kid isn’t his and won’t say who the father is, but this kid is the spitting image of him and the mum seems a bit well off for a single parent. That’s what they were saying in the shop anyway.’

  Elaine recalled the argument between Alex and Ada and wondered if this was the thing Alex thought he might never be forgiven for. ‘You really shouldn’t repeat gossip Brodie, it doesn’t help anyone and for all we know the child isn’t his and the mother won the lottery or something.’