A Sense of Discovery(a Gripping Psychological Suspense Novel)

by Peter Martin

  A feeling of dread came into his stomach, of being so near yet so far away and when Delia rang the doorbell he prayed somebody was in.

  They waited three or four minutes, then Delia asked, ‘Shall I ring again?’

  ‘Why not, perhaps they’re hard of hearing, seeing as they’re old.’

  Still no reply. Garry swore under his breath.

  ‘What now?’

  Without replying, Garry bent down to the letter box, opened it and shouted, ‘Anybody home?’

  ‘Garry!’

  ‘I’m only trying to find out if someone’s in. You never know he might have had a fall and be lying injured somewhere. Hallo!’ Garry shouted again. No one answered. At this point, he got so frustrated he went to the large leaded front window, knocked on it gently, then peered through, but couldn’t see anyone.

  ‘What’s Marvin playing at? He’s giving us the run-around, that’s for sure.’

  ‘It looks like it.’ Delia agreed.

  Garry’s hopes of finding the old man were fading fast. And as he went to the side gate and found it locked Delia said, ‘It’s no use Garry, no matter how many doors, windows or gates you try, you may as well face it - Marvin isn’t in.’ Then fearing they were being watched she said, ‘Look, Garry, I think we ought to go now before we’re accused of trying to break in, you never know there might be a CCTV camera somewhere.’

  ‘Sorry love - it’s just that I’m certain he knows something about me and now all of a sudden he’s vanished off the face of the earth. He was my last hope. I doubt I’ll ever be able to take this any further now!’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. I wonder if any of the neighbours have any idea where Marvin is?’

  ‘It’s unlikely, seems to me he doesn’t want to have anything to do with the neighbours from the height of that hedge. And anyway have you seen how far apart these houses are?’

  ‘Yes, well it’s worth a try. What have we got to lose?’

  ‘Nothing. All right love, why not, but it won’t amount to much.’

  She took his arm as they walked back down the drive to see a figure over the road waving a walking stick at them in an effort to get their attention. He wore denim dungarees and a red checked shirt and from his gait looked around eighty years of age.

  Instinctively they both stopped in their tracks and after a few seconds, Garry said, ‘Well Deel, we’ve come this far, may as well go and see what he wants. And let’s hope he’s friendly.’

  ‘I do hope he doesn’t think we were trying to break in; we don’t want to get into any trouble.’ But as they neared the elderly man Delia’s concerns were quashed when he greeted them with a friendly voice saying, ‘Hi there, you looking for ‘old Marv’? A warm smile came on his weather-beaten face as he held out his hand.

  Garry shook the proffered hand and looking into intelligent eyes asked, ‘I don’t know if you can help us, but have you any idea when Marvin will be back? You see we arranged to meet him last night and somehow we missed each other.’

  ‘Can’t say when he’ll be back, but could I ask how you know him. Are you friends of the family or something?’

  ‘No, we’re not friends of the family as such, just a recent acquaintance of his,’ Garry said waiting for a reply.

  The elderly man scratched his chin, obviously unsure of what to divulge and after a long moment of silence, asked, ‘How and when did you meet him?’

  ‘Yesterday afternoon. We were looking through the archives of The Gazette, when he overheard our conversation and asked if he could be of any help. Then he seemed to get cold feet when we explained the situation, but he did agree to meet us at a café later that evening.’

  Garry’s gaze was intense, not wanting to miss any tell-tale signs on the old gentleman’s face.

  ‘That’s strange – Marvin’s a friend to everyone, especially if they’re in trouble. I’ve never known him to let anyone down.’

  ‘Well, we kind of thought that. Although we’re not exactly in trouble, we think he has information that could help us. Especially, as we’ve being told, investigating is in his blood.’

  ‘It certainly is, as far back as I can remember. When he has a feel for a story he really gets to grips with it, and nine times out of ten finds out things nobody else can.’

  ‘Yes, the archivist told us that when we were in the offices of The Gazette looking for an article from forty years back. You see we’d already been to the library and found one specific edition of the newspaper missing from the microfiche. Then when we went to The Gazette in search of the same edition, we found that the front page had been defaced and part of it also missing. At this point, Marvin butted in to try to help. For some reason, however, he didn’t want to talk about it there and then so we arranged to meet him later. But as I’ve already said he didn’t turn up.’

  ‘So what was this article about?’ The man questioned, looking at each of them in turn.

  ‘A little boy lost or abandoned and who was later saved from drowning.’

  ‘I thought that might be it,’ he said knowingly, raising his eyebrows slightly.

  For a minute, Garry couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, and glancing at Delia, who’s bottom lip had dropped open, said, ‘My God, you know about this as well, don’t you? Why this is incredible.’

  ‘Come on, you’d best follow me inside.’ The elderly man thumbed over his shoulder, did an about turn and headed back to his house.

  At last, I’m going to discover the truth once and for all, Garry thought.

  Chapter Eight

  They followed him onto the front porch where he opened the door allowing them to go in first.

  Garry’s heart missed a beat at this turn of events. And on entering the property he could hardly believe the grandeur before him.

  ‘Sit yourself down.’ The elderly man indicated a brown leather settee.

  ‘Beautiful place you have here, Mr…’ Garry commented taking in the Kashmir carpet completely covering a floored area of at least nine by five metres.

  ‘Ernie… Ernest Ponting. Call me Ernie,’ he said with a smile, ‘And in answer to your question, yes it is – the result of forty years’ hard graft in the motor trade.’

  ‘So how long have you know Marvin?’ Garry enquired.

  ‘Marvin and I have been good friends and neighbours for as long as I care to remember. You know, once or twice he told me about stories he worked on over the years, especially the ones where for some reason or other the editor had cut bits out. He seemed to want someone to confide in, and that someone was me.’

  ‘What if you’d told someone else?’

  ‘I’d never do that, I’m not a blabbermouth and he knew it – I was sworn to secrecy, but… listen let me get you both a drink, and I’ll explain.’

  While Ernie went to get them a drink, Garry admired the décor, and all the artefacts around the room, the paintings and antique furniture really were impressive. Finally, his gaze came back to Delia, her manner suggested she too found it overwhelming.

  Ernie returned carrying two small brandies, and under his right arm, he had a folded newspaper.

  ‘Right, if you’re sitting comfortably you might like to read this.’ He handed them the newspaper. ‘I’ve got an idea it’s what you came for. You see Marvin rushed over here this morning saying he was going away for a few days with his family. And he left this with me, asked if I’d give it to you. His exact words were, “If an English couple come here looking for me, regarding an article which appeared in The Gazette some forty years ago, give them this.” Then he asked if I could remember the story he’d told me about the little boy rescued from drowning, and I said I did. He seemed upset but other than what I’ve just told you he didn’t want to discuss it.’

  Ernie then went to the back of the room saying, ‘I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll be over here if you need me; I’ve got a few calls to make.’

  Delia, seemingly keen to unravel the puzzle, moved closer to her husband as he slowly unf
olded the newspaper, a yellowing copy of The Gazette dated 3rd September 1964. The paper shook in his hands. It was the bold headline:-

  ‘LOST YOUNG BOY SAVED FROM DROWNING.’

  The picture underneath the heading showed a man in his thirties with slicked back dark hair, carrying the limp body of a little boy. The features of the child’s face were obscured, but Garry couldn’t be more certain it was him. Delia placed a consoling arm around his shoulders, as silent tears ran down his face.

  ‘That has to be me,’ he whispered.

  ‘Maybe Garry, but it’s not easy to make out exactly who that little boy is.’

  ‘I’m absolutely sure it’s me. Now let’s read the details underneath.’

  It gave a brief description of the incident and at the bottom, laying claim to the article, was the name of Marvin Whittle.

  ‘A little boy aged about three or four was yesterday saved from drowning by an observant holidaymaker. Mr Isaac Simpson aged 35 from Seattle USA, told reporters he’d seen a young boy wandering on the beach on his own, looking lost. Mr Simpson was about to approach him when the boy ran away towards something he’d seen in the sea. Mr Simpson continued to watch him as he went into the water and when the boy suddenly disappeared under the waves he ran into the sea and dived in after him. A few minutes later Mr Simpson plucked the child from the water and carried him to the beach, where he gave mouth to mouth resuscitation and managed to revive him. The boy was later taken to hospital for observation. It’s thought he will make a full recovery.

  The little boy goes by the name of Simon but the whereabouts of his family is unknown. As police continue with their investigations they are eager to hear from anyone who witnessed the scene on the beach or saw the child with an adult or his family, prior to the incident.’

  ‘My God, so this man saved my life.’

  ‘That’s what the newspaper says,’ Delia said.

  ‘But this doesn’t tell me how I came to be adopted.’

  ‘No, but we’ve got a vital clue into finding out who your real parents are. This Simpson chap might have seen your real mum and dad or even have met them later. After all, they’d have been so grateful to him for saving their son’s life.’

  ‘So if we find Simpson, we might find out who my real parents are,’ Garry stroked his chin with his hand, trying to take this in.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘You know what gets me about this. The article says here the boy went to hospital and the police were involved, yet when we visited both places, neither had any record of it. Don’t you think that’s a little peculiar? It makes me think there’s a conspiracy going on here.’

  ‘Possibly. But if we’re to learn any more about the incident we’ve got to find Isaac Simpson as soon as we can.’

  ‘That will be difficult. Remember this was forty years ago; he might be dead. And even if he’s alive, he’d be seventy-five years old by now.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s a starting point, isn’t it love? Don’t forget we have quite a lot of information about him. His name, age, and where he comes from. It might be possible to find him even now.’

  ‘That’s true… Listen Ernie…’ Garry said shouting across to his host, who was sitting away from them, having finished on the phone. ‘When did Marvin give you this?’

  ‘Early this morning when he came to tell me he was going away. I was surprised you came so quickly.’

  ‘Any idea where he and his family were going?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. He just said he was visiting an old friend; it was all very vague. And as I’ve already said he asked me to pass the newspaper on to you.’

  ‘And did he seem agitated, nervous or frightened?’ Garry asked.

  Ernie shook his head. ‘Hard to say. He seemed in a hurry and was angry, which is unusual for him – perhaps he just wanted to get going.’

  ‘There’s something that doesn’t ring true with all this. For instance, why did Marvin confide in you about this story?

  ‘Maybe he uncovered the truth but wasn’t allowed to report it, and he felt guilty. Perhaps now he’s older, he’s angry with himself for not ‘blowing the gaff’. Then we come along and bring it out in the open again.’ Garry looked from one to the other, ‘And now he’s vanished into thin air, knowing we are on holiday and will be leaving the island shortly. By the time he gets back we’ll be gone.’

  At such a bold statement Ernie just shrugged his shoulders saying, ‘I couldn’t tell you, but I have to admit Marvin said: “the less you know the better”, come to think of it now he did seem a bit spooked. Perhaps he’d been threatened.’

  ‘I wish I knew what was going on. It’s as if someone is trying to stop us finding out the truth.’

  But Ernie didn’t comment on what Garry had suggested, except to say ‘Who knows, but I do hope you find what you’re looking for.’

  At that, they finished their drinks, got up to shake the old man’s hand, thanked him for his help and left.

  <><><>

  A mixture of feelings went round Garry’s head as they walked to the car. He was glad and relieved to have found an important piece of the jigsaw. Possibly their most significant bit of information yet. But how far would this take them?

  Breaking the silence on their journey back to the hotel, Delia asked, ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Oh not too bad, better than before.’

  ‘It’s looking more optimistic now, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, a little. But it’s still pretty much a long shot. I’m frightened to get my hopes up too much.’

  ‘Come on, try to be positive. This could be the key,’ Delia said cheerfully.

  ‘Yes, that’s true, but I wish we could have spoken to Marvin personally.’ He smiled. ‘I doubt we’ll find anything else out here seeing as no one’s talking to us, but you know every waking moment my mind’s on this, constantly delving into the past. For now, I’d like us to enjoy the rest of the holiday and put all this to one side – all right?’

  ‘Well, I won’t argue with that.’ Delia grinned.

  ‘I tell you what, how about visiting one of the Casinos. I’ve got a bit of cash in my wallet so we can go straight there. It might be fun so long as we don’t lose too much. Why not live dangerously for a couple of hours, I’ve never been to a Casino before.’

  ‘Me neither; come on, if it’s just for one night, I don’t suppose it will hurt.’

  Garry enjoyed his night with Delia at the Casino, mingling with the rich and famous, and even managed to come away with a small profit on his original stake. Perhaps luck was on his side after all.

  <><><>

  The rest of the holiday passed in a blur. Both had had the time of their lives, bronzed by the end of it, from bathing in the sun. On the last day, while Garry did the rest of the packing, Delia phoned Tom and Cassie, giving them an idea of what time they’d be back the next day. It would be good to see the family again and talk about their great adventure.

  On the day of departure, after such a wonderful holiday, Garry noticed how subdued Delia was. He too felt downcast but needed to get back to find out the whereabouts of Isaac Simpson. A long shot maybe but one that might lead to his birth parents.

  Their plane touched down at Birmingham Airport at four o’clock in the afternoon, an hour later than scheduled. After the long journey, they were both exhausted, but obviously, he and Delia couldn’t wait to see their family again.

  ‘Seen the weather, Deel?’ Garry nudged her to look out of the window. Overcast with rain, a typical homecoming.

  ‘Oh no, you wouldn’t credit it.’

  ‘Doesn’t it make you wish you were back in Montriga?’

  ‘Sure does,’ Delia agreed. ‘But it’s great to be home in familiar surroundings – and England wouldn’t be England without the rain.’

  ‘Suppose not,’ he grudgingly had to admit.

  It was noticeably colder as they got off the plane and walked wearily towards the terminal building, and for the first time in two
weeks they needed an umbrella. The one item neither of them had thought to pack. But then it always rained in late October.

  After going through passport control, the first faces they saw waiting at the arrivals gate were Tom’s and Jane’s and a few yards behind stood Cassie and Chris with little Adam waving frantically.

  ‘Oh, Garry – what a lovely surprise,’ Delia said with tears in her eyes. ‘I didn’t think they’d all be here to meet us.’

  ‘Fantastic!’ Garry agreed, before being engulfed by his one and only grandson.

  ‘Grandad!’ Adam shouted. ‘I missed you.’

  Garry picked Adam up in his arms lifting him up high before hugging his son and daughter and their respective spouses.

  ‘Had a good time?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Brilliant. Haven’t we, love?’

  ‘Well, ‘Delia said looking at Garry with an amused grin, ‘The first week wasn’t that great, but things improved after that, and it turned out to be the best holiday we’ve ever had.’

  ‘Come on then, you two. Let’s go home, and you can tell us all about it,’ Cassie said.

  So the posse of three cars set off, hitting the rush hour traffic, with everyone trying to get back home after work. Garry felt glad to be back with his family again and secretly hoped his children had a meal planned as there was much catching up to do He couldn’t wait to tell them about their holiday. But it wasn’t until early evening after the holiday photos had been seen and the presents given out that he mentioned Marvin Whittle and Isaac Simpson. The clincher came, however, when he showed them the front page of The Gazette.

  ‘My goodness Dad, you’re getting to be a proper detective, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, we did our best, Cassie, although we had to work damned hard just to get this far, didn’t we love?’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Delia rolled her eyes.

  ‘So, you’re certain this is about you, Dad?’ Tom asked as he read the article.

  ‘I’m positive Tom because from time to time the memories came back to me. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the hotel was the same one I stayed in all those years ago, although my recollections didn’t come from there, it was more so from the private beach. There was an incident on the beach involving a small child and that brought it all back. I suddenly remembered nearly drowning, and someone rescuing me and being given the kiss of life. And there’s the proof in black and white, in that newspaper cutting.’