Shadows of the Lost Child

by Ellie Stevenson

  ‘It’s not like that, you know it’s not.’ She rested her hand on Martha’s, briefly. Martha quickly snatched it away. Cressida paused.

  ‘I think you ought to face the truth. I don’t want a man in my life anymore, or even a woman, not at the moment.’

  ‘It isn’t healthy to be alone,’ Martha told her. ‘Having Len has been marvellous for me.’ She passed more scones and Cressida took one.

  ‘I’m not alone,’ Cressida told her. ‘I’ve got my daughter, Alice, remember?’ Her friend didn’t answer. Cressida went on.

  ‘I was there when the post arrived, including your envelope, the black-edged one.’ She stared at the fine lace tablecloth.

  ‘And how did he take it?’ Martha asked her.

  ‘Not that well, as you can imagine. He told me his former partner sent them.’

  ‘Shades of a guilty conscience, I’d say. He doesn’t know you knew he was lying. Unless he thinks she really did.’

  ‘He might,’ said Cressida. ‘She did dump him.’

  ‘Hardly surprising. Gerry’s the sort who likes things shiny. Trouble and Gerry don’t mix very well.’

  ‘Aleph doesn’t mix with anyone now. Or, so I gather.’

  ‘I bet he’s got his eye on you.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Cressida, ‘he’s certainly friendly. Wasn’t that what you wanted to happen?’

  ‘So long as he doesn’t pull you in. Can you be sure he won’t, Cressida?’ She rose from the table and stacked the dishes, then walked to the sink and began washing them.

  Cressida studied her friend’s profile. She was struck by how her pregnancy was showing. Martha turned round and saw Cressida staring.

  ‘What are you thinking, looking like that?’

  ‘I’m thinking it’s time you stopped all this, now that you’re pregnant.’

  Martha frowned and wiped her hands. ‘You mean, you think it’s time I moved on?’

  ‘That’s right, I do, now you’ve got a new baby coming. It’s the perfect time to start again.’

  ‘I can’t just paper over the cracks, pretend the man didn’t do what he did. Replace what I lost with something else.’

  ‘I wasn’t saying that,’ said Cressida, slowly.

  ‘Oh yes, you were, that’s what everybody says, even my husband says it sometimes. You’d rather I just moved on and was happy.’

  ‘And is that such a terrible thing?’ Martha paused.

  ‘No, not in itself. But I’m just not ready to let go yet. The cards are done, they’ve run their course, and from what you’ve said, they didn’t work. But as for the rest, we’ll stop when I’m ready. Tell me you won’t give up on me now?’

  ‘No,’ said Cressida, rather reluctantly, thinking she didn’t have much choice. I’m doing it for Alice, she said to herself.

  Martha leant forward and stared at her friend with a fixed expression. ‘I agree, Cressida, it’s time to move on. But not before we’ve told him the truth.’

  Chapter 25

  Then – Thomas

  I was still bothered about the shoes. Especially now I knew Ma was involved. But I knew much better than to mention them, to her or my da. Miranda and I had to deal with it, and we still needed a place to hide them. Miranda’s idea was once we’d hidden them somewhere else, away from the pub, we, or I, could take them back to McCarthy’s shop, a few at a time.

  Had it been me, I’d have thought of a story to tell Percy, and shifted the whole damn lot at once. But Miranda refused to go that way.

  ‘If someone finds out, and it only takes one, my mother’s position in our pub will be ruined. They might not even say much to her face, but the talk would be rife, then trade would suffer and where would we be?’ She looked at me keenly. What could I say?

  ‘You’d be out of a job,’ she said, curtly. Which also started me thinking a bit.

  The next morning, I didn’t go to school until later. Which meant missing breakfast, a great sacrifice. I went to the market, my ma shops there, and I knew a bloke who wanted a lad to help with deliveries. I could work Saturdays and maybe some very early mornings, and still do the glasses in the pub each night. But I knew if Mason gave me the job, it’d lead to more work, and more after that, and before very long, I’d be working for him, and not with Miranda at the Keepsake Arms. I felt guilty.

  But, I couldn’t be sure my job there was safe, and I needed to work, my da was such an awful provider, a waste of space who drank too much. I opened the door of our classroom warily. Pike looked up.

  ‘Where do you think you’ve been, Islip?’

  ‘To see about a job,’ I said, brightly, looking at Pike and hoping he’d give me a break for once. The other kids stopped what they were doing and watched me keenly. They liked it when Pike picked on me, it meant they were off the hook for a while.

  ‘And how did you do?’ said Pike, sneering.

  ‘I got the job,’ I said grinning, in spite of myself.

  ‘You got the job!’ He turned to the rest of the class and laughed. ‘He got the job. It can’t have been much of a job, boys can it?’

  ‘No, Mr Pike,’ they all chorused. I felt myself go red with anger.

  ‘In fact, Mr Pike, it’s a very good job, and I’m proud I got it, pleased as punch. The man who’s going to be my boss, he says he thinks I’ll be great at the work.’ Bad mistake. I knew it the moment I’d opened my mouth.

  ‘Oh, he does, now does he? Well I guess he’ll be a fool tomorrow, or whenever he takes you into his stable. So what are you doing here now, Islip, if you’d rather be somewhere else?’

  ‘But I like being here, Mr Pike, honest, the job is just a little extra.’ It wasn’t true, I hated school and I liked Pike less, but I did like the food and I liked learning. I wanted to learn as much as I could, so I could get on, when I was a man. Which made me think of Alice and her iPad. I took the chance.

  ‘Have you ever seen an iPad?’ I said to Pike, as I walked to my bench. ‘It’s a big square thing for writing on. With all the alphabet on as well.’ He looked incredulous.

  ‘It’s, “seen an iPad, sir?”’, he snapped at me, ‘and no I haven’t, and I don’t particularly want to, either. What I do want, Islip, is someone who turns up on time for lessons and doesn’t start giving me cheek each time.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I told him, feeling indignant, but Pike raised his hand to silence my words.

  ‘That’s enough!’ he said. ‘You can go downstairs to the joinery workshop and stand outside for the rest of the morning. That’ll teach you to turn up late for your lessons. I’ll let you have dinner, if you’re lucky. Go on, Islip, get out of my sight.’

  I scowled as I left and made a gesture and Pike saw it. I knew I wouldn’t get dinner today. My pleasure in my job was fading fast, I was already hungry and going on starving.

  The school was based at the top of the house. I trundled down to the joinery workshop which was on the ground floor and had a back door which led out to the churchyard. I peered carefully into the room. Pike might be grumpy and sometimes callous but the man who ran the workshop was worse. According to Jake, who was one of my mates, you never crossed Wetherby Eisen twice. Or if you did, you vanished for good.

  ‘You’re pulling my leg, Jake,’ I’d said and Jake had grinned, as if to say, ‘Sure,’ but I still suspected he’d told the truth.

  When I looked in that particular day, Jake was standing by the sink, which was next to the door that led out to the churchyard, where Pike had told me to stand, looking stupid. Everyone hated being told to do that, the girls because they were scared of the graves, the lads, because they were scared of Eisen. Jake looked up and saw me approaching. He frowned and gestured over at Eisen, who I could see was talking to someone. Another poor sod who’s got into trouble, I thought grimly. But no, when I looked, I saw it was Ben. I started walking towards them, unthinking.

  ‘Tom, come back!’ Jake hissed and I stopped, and made my way back towards him, reluctant.

  ‘You’re a fool if you th
ink you can go over there. Eisen’s in a foul mood, today.’

  ‘But that’s Ben Tencell, he’s a mate,’ I told him. ‘I don’t want him thinking I’m rude,’ I said.

  ‘And will he be here tomorrow?’ said Jake. ‘When Eisen decides to lock you in the basement?’

  I shivered suddenly, and said nothing, understanding the point at last. Eisen liked to torment his pupils, even more than Mister Pike, and any slip of an excuse would do. I didn’t need that sort of trouble. I turned away and went outside.

  The graves mocked me, with their flat, stupid faces, asking me what I was doing in the churchyard and telling me I was as useless as them. I wondered whether I should wait for dinner. If I just scarpered until tomorrow, what would it matter? The smell of the slaughterhouse drifted over.

  Minutes later, Ben strolled past, walking slowly down Scriveners Road. He stopped when he saw me, frowned then grinned. ‘What are you doing out here, Thomas?’

  ‘It’s a long story, you don’t want to know. What were you doing, talking to Eisen?’

  ‘It’s Mr Eisen, to you, remember.’ Ben grinned again, and I grinned back, glad to be here and talking to a mate. ‘We were talking supplies, not that it’s any of your business. He knows of a place I can get more wood.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Pike told me off for getting a job, or asking questions, or giving him cheek, any of these, or just for existing. Who knows with Pike?’

  ‘I thought you had a job in the pub?’

  ‘Now I’ve got two, we need the cash. I don’t like Pike, he’s a miserable sod and always looking to get one over.’

  ‘Well, take it from me, I saw you before in the joinery workshop and Wetherby Eisen’s harder than Pike. You stay away from Wetherby, Tom. He’s a mate of mine, I know what I’m saying.’

  ‘But it’s fine for you to be mates with him?’

  ‘It’s business, Tom and business is different, besides, I’m a man and you’re just a lad. Blokes like Eisen eat lads for breakfast. I mean it, Thomas. Stay away from the man.’

  Chapter 26

  Then – Miranda

  When Miranda got back to the pub after work, it was well after seven and she was shattered. There had been a demand for rock at the factory, which had meant more work, and Miranda had jumped at the extra hours, but her ma would be worried, or should have been worried, assuming she’d troubled herself to care. Miranda sighed.

  Her ma hadn’t been the same for ages, not since Matt McCarthy had died and then even worse since the shoes had been found. He ma was slowly falling apart and on top of all that the takings were down. What had happened to the mother she’d known?

  As she drew closer to Dogleg Lane and the Keepsake Arms, she could hear a noise, the sound of music and ribald laughter, and Miranda’s heart sank as she guessed where it came from. She paused, then pressed on. As she walked in she was pushed aside by a couple of strangers, apparently eager to reach the bar. The woman stopped and reeled a little, already tipsy.

  ‘We’re looking for the singing room,’ she said to Miranda.

  ‘What did you say?’ Miranda replied.

  ‘The room where the dancing and singing is, love.’ The man spoke this time, he at least seemed more or less sober, until he gave a very loud belch.

  Miranda pushed past them into the bar, where Reg was supping a pint of ale.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she shouted, furious. The racket in here was even worse.

  ‘It’s nothing, Miranda,’ Reg said, grinning, ‘your ma’s just trying to make a few shillings. It would help her though, if you came home sooner.’

  ‘I haven’t that long since left the factory, so don’t you start giving me a hard time. What do you mean, make a few shillings? What’s she done now?’ Half of her didn’t want to know the answer.

  ‘It’s only a bit of singing and fun. Your ma’s moved the parlour upstairs for the night, so the room can be used for music and dancing, just for this evening. It’s a music night, for special guests only.’

  ‘Special guests only! You can hear that racket up by Pasenheuse. And you need a licence for music, I thought you knew that.’

  ‘Your mother’s the one who’s in charge, not me. I don’t know nothing about any licence, you’d have to ask your ma about that. But the singer’s only a waitress really, she’s helping your mother to serve the ale, and only singing to keep people happy.’ He winked at Miranda who swore loudly; she was the only sane one amongst them. She went to the parlour; was back in a flash.

  ‘There’s a woman’s dancing on the table in there and it’s not even Saturday! I can’t believe my mother did this. Where the hell is she?’

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Reg, grinning, ‘but I’d try outside if I were you. The noise through there probably drove her out.’

  ‘And whose fault’s that?’ Miranda snapped back, dashing outside and heading down the passage to the yard at the end. Her ma was sitting on the back doorstep, holding a fag. Miranda was stunned.

  ‘Since when did you take up smoking, Ma? And there’s a woman dancing in there!’

  Her ma glanced up and smiled at Miranda. ‘Smoking is legal, the last time I heard, and dancing is too, as far as I know. You let that woman have her fun, it’ll soon be morning, and she’ll be working as hard as ever.’

  Miranda walked a bit closer to her mother. ‘I’m not that sure I know you lately. We used to run a respectable house, and now there’s someone dancing on the table and a racket fit to disturb the dead. I could hear the music streets away.’

  ‘So what if you can? The people in there are enjoying themselves.’

  ‘This isn’t the sort of pub we run. I don’t know why you’ve decided to do this.’

  ‘For the money, Miranda, why else would I do it? Didn’t you hear what I said the last time? The takings are down, there are too many pubs in this part of town, it’s hard to get business.’

  ‘You could have fooled me, it’s heaving in there!’

  ‘Then you should be pleased, we’ll make more money, unless you want us to lose our home. You know Tom’s father, Scotty, came in? He loves the singing nights, he said, he’s going to bring all his friends the next time.’

  ‘That’s what we need,’ Miranda sneered. ‘More of life’s dross like Scotty Islip.’

  Hannah Collenge stared at her daughter. It made Miranda feel uncomfortable. Her mother frowned.

  ‘I never took you for a snob, Miranda. You used to be a good-natured girl, warm and friendly and not one to judge. But now you’ve turned all prim and proper, and all because of a bit of dancing. It must be the factory that’s made you like that, because I certainly haven’t.’

  Oh yes, you have, Miranda thought. It all began when your standards slipped and you gave yourself to Matt McCarthy. And then you went and took those shoes.

  She grabbed her ma’s shawl which lay on the step in a crumpled heap. The shawl was good, from her father’s day, and made with wool, it was thick and warm.

  ‘You can think and say whatever you like. But first thing Monday, I’ll be going to the pawnshop and taking this shawl and a few things more. It might be grim, but at least it’s honest, and it’s what folk do, in our position. Instead of running a bawdy house.’

  As she climbed the steps to her room, she thought about what her mother had said. She wasn’t stuck up or looked down on others, she only wanted to keep things right. But as she opened her bedroom door, trying to ignore the noise from the parlour, she couldn’t help hearing the voice in her head, which wondered if her mother was right.

  Chapter 27

  Then – Thomas

  Wherever I was, I always seemed to be late for something. I was late leaving school because Pike insisted I finish my work, as I had, he told me, “wasted my time, talking to mates while standing in the churchyard”. ‘Forgetting’, of course, that he was the one who’d sent me down there. So, now the night was drawing in, and I knew Da would be home for his tea, so I thought I’d go up to the tenements again and lo
ok for Louise. And if I saw Alice while I was looking, well that was a bonus.

  Pearson’s Tenements were bleak, as always. They seemed to cast a terrible shadow, dark and forbidding, looming over the street below them. Not that the people passing by noticed. Most of those wandering down the street were drunk. I noticed a woman round by the back. She was filling a pail from a tap by the privies.

  ‘Have you seen Louise?’ I asked her. ‘She’s a friend of mine and May’s daughter. She hasn’t been seen at school for ages.’

  ‘Not for weeks,’ said the woman, offhand, ignoring my smile and watching the bucket as if it would vanish. Now I was worried.

  ‘Do you happen to know which floor she lives on? Then I could go and ask the neighbours.’ Someone must know where Louise had gone. The woman turned round and gave me a glare.

  ‘No, I don’t, but even if I did I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t know you from Adam, do I?’

  ‘I’m a friend, from school, we’re mates, honest. I’m only trying to find Louise.’

  ‘If you were her friend, you’d know where she lived.’

  ‘She didn’t want to tell me,’ I said. ‘Because…’ I stopped, I couldn’t say it. Because she was ashamed of her home, I meant, ashamed of living in Pearson’s Tenements.

  ‘I really am her friend,’ I said. ‘Someone from school asked me to find her. One of the teachers, a Mr Pike.’

  The woman gave a snort of laughter. ‘So that’s why you’re asking, because you’ve been told to. Well, you listen sonny, the kids round here don’t go to school, they’ve something better to do than school and that’s get a job. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of that?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘I’ve got a job, in fact I’ve got two.’ Well, I would have soon.

  ‘And yet you’ve time to gossip with me. They must be easy jobs, I reckon. Haven’t you got a home to go to?’

  ‘I’m trying to find my mate, Louise. I’ve already said.’