Chapter 52
Then – Miranda
Time went by and Miranda was serving alone in the parlour. It was getting late when the door was pushed open and Tanya Curtis walked into the room. She slowly strolled across to Miranda.
‘What a lovely evening,’ she said. ‘I’ll have some light ale, when you’ve a moment.’
‘I’ll see the colour of your money first.’
The woman nodded and looked around. ‘It’s as well there’s just you and me in here. It’ll make it easier to conduct our business.’
‘I’ve no business with you, Tanya Curtis,’ Miranda told her, standing up straighter.
‘I’m sure you recall our discussion last week.’
‘Of course I remember, and I’m telling you now, as I told you back then, we’ve no money, and certainly not for paying blackmail.’
The woman smiled, but it seemed to Miranda that the smile was thin.
‘There’s still the matter of the shoe you have.’ She raised her eyes to the shelf above them. ‘Or should I say shoes?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. That boot up there was found by a tradesman a long time ago. There are shoes on my feet, but surely business isn’t so bad you’d want to take those. But then again,’ she gave the young woman a long, hard stare, ‘perhaps it is.’
An indrawn hiss meant she’d hit her target. ‘I might have to talk to your ma about this.’
‘Talk all you like,’ said Miranda, coolly, ‘but I’m telling you now, it won’t change a thing. There aren’t any shoes, apart from the ones you can see in this room.’ She reached across and poured out some ale. ‘But do have a drink on us, sweetheart.’
The woman looked angry, really angry. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this.’
Miranda shrugged.
A few minutes later some men came in and the woman strolled out and Miranda thought that was all for the evening. At twenty to ten, she slipped out herself, as Cath was around and she needed the air. Not that the air was very fresh. She made her way round to the back of the pub, hurrying down the passage to the yard. She was almost there when Curtis stepped out and blocked her path. Unfortunately, she was much worse for wear. Miranda stepped back but Curtis grabbed her arm and held it.
‘Let go of me now,’ Miranda insisted. She was scared as hell but she wasn’t going to show it.
Curtis laughed and instead moved her face closer to Miranda’s. ‘You implied before I was some sort of slut. Well, you’re a fine one to talk, sweetheart, with your ma like she is, and you being pals with Ben Tencell. The one who buries the bodies, darling. You make a fine pair, you and him. Perhaps you let him have it on the cheap?’
‘I’d say the pot was calling the kettle.’
‘Like mother, like daughter, that’s what I’d say. I hope you’ve learnt the facts of life. You don’t want to end up having a child, not like some of the people I know.’ Curtis laughed, a raucous laugh that ricocheted down the length of the passage. Miranda gasped.
‘Mind your own business, you miserable cow. Ben and I are friends, that’s all.’ Which was totally true, although that didn’t mean she didn’t want more. She swallowed hard.
‘You’re always spreading vicious rumours. As for my ma, that’s more of your lies. I know my ma and she’s not like that.’ Curtis laughed.
‘Well, you’re not very well informed. I pride myself on telling the truth.’
‘So put your money where your mouth is, Curtis. If you’ve something to say, then say it now. Or run away, like the coward you are.’
Curtis smiled and looked at Miranda. ‘Some weeks before Matt McCarthy died, not once, but twice, and the week before too, I saw a woman go into his house. She didn’t knock, she went straight in, and before you say she was taking the laundry, it was in the evening, after seven.
‘I didn’t see her face, she slipped in the side way, but I saw her coat as she walked down the path, it was thick and long, a rich red and grey. I knew that coat, it used to be mine, before Matt McCarthy bought me another. I bet your ma’s got a coat like that.’
Chapter 53
Now – Aleph
I wasn’t keen to go back to the house. I was tired and stressed and not about to go down to the cellar. I was glad I’d moved the fridge-freezer back. Now I knew why someone had done it, to keep the trapdoor firmly closed, and to keep out thoughts of the body, or maybe bodies, children’s bodies. I couldn’t bear thinking about that scenario.
I made myself tea and took a huge mugful into the lounge, stood by the window and watched life passing, people on bikes, tourists gathering and pigeons swooping down from the trees. It made a pleasant, distracting sight. I sighed, heavily. So many deaths.
Mary-Ann Parks and the boy I ran down, and possibly some others, the ghost children, whoever they once were. And there on top of the cupboard, waiting, was the old shoebox with its four envelopes, four words, and three of them still a mystery to me. My hand was on the lid of the box. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to know what the words would say.
Daniel was dead and words or threats, whatever they were, wouldn’t bring him back, however much I wished it. Mary-Ann Parks was dead as well and I didn’t know what had happened to the children. But I could do something for Alice Sewell. First I played the sound files again.
The files, supposedly of ghosts crying. The more I listened the more I was sure. The child I could hear was Alice Sewell. I’d have to have words with that damned journalist, Guinevere James, but first I’d speak to Alice’s mother. I picked up the phone.
Cressida Sewell walked into the house on a bright morning, looking wary. And so she might. After our recent venture into strange territory with imaginary boys I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But she still looked as lovely as ever.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. That business with Tom, it threw me a bit.’
‘Have you spoken to Alice about him?’
‘I don’t talk to Alice, remember?’
‘I only meant, oh never mind.’ Now for more trouble.
‘I was given a recording by Guinevere James. Here’s a transcript.’
Cressida frowned and took the transcript. She looked puzzled. Whatever she is, she’s a good actress.
‘Who’s Guinevere James?’
‘She’s a local reporter and possibly the cousin of Marianne Parks from my estate agent’s. Posing as wanting help with a murder.’ Cressida raised her eyebrows and stared.
‘Wanting help to solve a murder. Go on, read it.’ I passed her the transcript.
She glanced at it quickly and looked confused.
‘So she’s missing someone, possibly a him but maybe not, I’m not clear there. And she blames this someone, who’s probably a man, for taking them away, the him or the her. And she’s scared of the man or was scared then, and the person she’s missing is dead and gone.’
‘That’s about it,’ I said to Cressida.
‘So are you thinking this is a murder?’ So I filled her in on Mary-Ann Parks, just for the hell of it.
‘Marianne Parks is the one who works in Cloud House Properties? And she might be this James woman’s cousin? I know Ms Parks, we often do business with her company.’ Cressida’s firm was rather upmarket, it only dealt with exclusive clients. Why hadn’t one of them taken my house?
Maybe because it’s run down and haunted.
‘But this is the voice of a child,’ said Cressida. She looked worried, very worried. Now came the crunch.
‘Mary-Ann’s murder is not why you’re here. The journalist, James, said the voice on the file was the voice of a child. One of the School Lane ghosts, crying. I know, I know, it sounds very far-fetched. But, remember, Cressida, I’ve heard these children, or some kids anyway. Guinevere James is very convincing.’
‘I’ll bet she is,’ said Cressida, curtly. She looked at me with something like pity. That would soon change.
‘After I’d played the sound file a few times, I recognised the sou
nd of the child who was on it, even though all I’d heard was crying. It’s Alice, Cressida, and I think you knew that all along. Why did you send Ms James to me, and with such a far-fetched story?’
‘I didn’t,’ said Cressida, getting to her feet. ‘I’m sorry Aleph, I’ve got to go.’
‘You can’t go now, you’ve only just got here’ I said, jumping up and hurrying after her into the hall. ‘I think I deserve an explanation.’ Cressida gave me a scathing look.
‘Don’t you worry, you’ll get your explanation. And thanks for having such faith in me.’ She opened the door and slipped outside. ‘I didn’t send James with the recording, Aleph.’ And then she looked a little ashamed.
‘But I’m almost certain I know who did.’
Chapter 54
Then – Miranda
Miranda walked into her ma’s bedroom, and stared at the wardrobe over in the corner. It was large and dark with a huge bottom drawer which her mother kept sheets in. Miranda knew what she’d find in the wardrobe. Fortunately for her, her mother was out.
Her ma had said she was going to see Carol, Thomas’s ma, but given that both of them worked in the laundry, that didn’t make sense. Miranda was becoming exasperated.
She opened the door to the wardrobe warily. The coat was there in all its glory, thick and long, and a faded rich red with deep grey cuffs. Almost the same as Curtis had described it.
How dare he give that coat to her ma when he’d gone and bought Curtis a brand new coat? Miranda sat on the bed thinking. The answer was obvious, even though it hurt, Matt McCarthy hadn’t valued her ma, not as much as he’d valued Tanya. Curtis was younger and prettier too. Damn the man, Miranda thought.
She no longer doubted Curtis’s story. She was far too smug and all the facts fitted. How long had her ma been seeing McCarthy, and had it begun when her da was alive? Miranda ached with the pain of it all. And then there was that stupid boot. Her ma had admitted to having the boot for many years, but why keep a boot? It seemed such a silly thing for a keepsake, just one boot, and too small to wear. Her mother didn’t seem the superstitious sort, but maybe she was. Maybe McCarthy had made her like that, frightened of losing the love that she’d found. Miranda sighed, it had to be done.
Slowly, she went through the rest of the things, first the coat, and then her ma’s other, then some jackets and two old bags. She didn’t know what she was looking for. Then, at the end, she found the old bag, hidden away behind the clothes, at the back of the wardrobe. She opened it up. There, inside, was the other boot.
Miranda emerged from the wardrobe, carefully, holding the boot aloft in her hand. Not just one, but a pair of boots, one downstairs and the other up here. How very odd. She suddenly heard a noise from below, the sound of footsteps, climbing the stairs. Miranda shoved the bag in the wardrobe, closing the door and standing up straight. The boot in her hand she shoved up her shirt and fastened her cardy loosely around it. She took a deep breath. Her mother walked in.
‘Miranda, dear, what are you doing?’
‘Looking for you, I thought you’d come back.’
‘Since when have I spent my time up here?’ Her ma looked cross, and disbelieving. She scanned the room, not a thing out of place. She gave Miranda a cool, hard stare.
‘I think you’d better go back downstairs. Tom’s turned up and he’s asking for you.’
Miranda hurried downstairs, quickly. It was far too late for Tom to be here. ‘What’s the matter?’ she said to him, anxious.
‘It’s about the shoes. I was talking to Jake, my mate in the workshop. The boy who forgot the key, remember?’
‘Yes, I remember.’ Miranda frowned. Jake was also Curtis’s nephew, although Tom hadn’t said he knew about that.
‘Pike wants the shed in the churchyard cleared. Apparently there’s a right fuss about it, because Eisen’s against it, that’s where he keeps his wood for the workshop, and it’s where…’
‘We hid the trunks.’ Miranda groaned and swore, loudly. Would this nightmare never end?
‘I thought I’d better come round at once. I’m sorry it’s late, I’ve only just finished some extra deliveries.’
Of course, thought Miranda, Tom’s new job. If Tom left the pub because of that job, she didn’t think she could cope anymore. He might be a boy, but the lad was sharp and fun to be with, almost a mate. She’d never see Ben if Tom left the pub. Stop! she thought. Forget about Ben and think about the shoes. Tom carried on.
‘We’ll have to take them up to the shop. Percy will take them as soon as we say.’
‘We can’t take all of the shoes at once. Someone would see us and know it was odd. No, Thomas, that’s what I wanted to avoid, remember? We’ll have to leave them in the tunnel. That’s what I wanted to do in the first place.’
‘Ben won’t like it,’ Tom said, slowly.
‘That’s too bad, I’ll have to persuade him, you see if I don’t.’ Miranda smiled briefly, sounding more confident than she felt.
But Tom didn’t return the smile.
Chapter 55
Now – Cressida
Cressida watched her friend closely. Martha was icing a chocolate cake. She swirled the frosting around on her knife, making patterns out of the sugar. It looked beautiful. Martha always made wonderful cakes, she even sold the best for a profit. She didn’t remember Martha baking, before the accident. Before her world had fallen apart. Despite all that, Cressida was angry.
‘Why did you go and give Aleph this?’ She dropped the USB drive onto the table. Followed by the transcript.
‘I didn’t,’ said Martha, licking her finger, ‘Guinevere did.’
‘It was your idea, and you took the drive from my home that night. And you edited out the words, so all he heard was Alice crying.’
‘Yes,’ said Martha, ‘I wanted to help.’
‘By going behind my back to others, including a man you say you hate.’
‘I do,’ said Martha, washing her hands, ‘but I did what I did, for you, not me.’
‘You had no business interfering, giving that recording to Aleph, or anyone.’ Martha shrugged.
‘Piece of cake?’ she said mildly.
‘Damn the cake, I’m not hungry.’ Cressida paused.
‘The worst thing of all is you gave this stranger, Guinevere James, someone who I haven’t even met, something of Alice’s and you told James all about our business. What exactly did you tell her?’ Martha shrugged.
‘That Alice was troubled and had problems speaking and I wanted to help her get over it.’
‘By lying to Aleph and going behind my back to do it. And making up stupid stories about ghosts.’
‘That was Ginny,’ said Martha mildly. ‘The School Lane ghosts were her idea.’
‘And a bad one too. You do know James is a journalist?’
‘Of course I do, Ginny’s my friend, we go way back.’
‘I’d never trust a journalist.’
‘I’d trust Ginny James with my life,’ said Martha.
‘Well, bully for you,’ said Cressida bitterly. ‘I don’t think we can be friends after this. How can I trust you ever again? How dare you share my life with strangers!’
‘I thought you wanted to help Alice?’
‘I do,’ said Cressida, ‘but in my own way and in my own time. And furthermore…’ Martha waited.
‘Don’t ask me to deal with Aleph again, do it yourself, or get your journalist gofer to do it. I’ve had enough of being your sidekick.’ Martha said nothing.
‘The thing with Aleph was all about you, about getting revenge. I don’t know where you’re going with that. He feels so bad, I know he does, even though he wasn’t to blame. I saw him throw that card in the bin, the one you sent, he’s not going to read it, or the rest, you’re wasting your time. If you want him to hear what you’ve got to say, why don’t you tell him, face to face? That’s what you should have done in the first place.’
‘According to you,’ said Martha, sourly. She pushed
the transcript across the table.
‘You ought to think about what this means. It’s clear Alice is really unhappy and you’re not hearing what she’s saying. Alice is obviously missing someone, I think it’s Daniel.’
‘Do you?’ said Cressida, suddenly uncertain.
‘And there’s more,’ said Martha, slowly. She looked nervous.
‘Alice knows we both went out looking, trying to find her when she went missing and I left Daniel on his own. She might feel guilty and blame herself because we weren’t there and Daniel got out.’
‘She’s not to blame,’ said Cressida sharply.
‘I know she’s not, but she might not. I asked her once if she’d left the latch off, because that’s how Daniel got out of the garden. She said she hadn’t and I believed her, but that’s not the point. The point is, Danny died not far from home. What if Alice did go to the park, just like she told us, but after she’d seen the accident happen? She might have been hanging around and saw it. Something like that could have caused the trauma, made her stop speaking. It seems obvious.’
Yes, thought Cressida, lost for words.
Chapter 56
Then – Miranda
Miranda had worked extra hours at Chaucer’s so she didn’t arrive at Ben’s until afterwards. She was hoping that Tom hadn’t said to expect her. Clearly he hadn’t as Ben seemed surprised.
She stood in the doorway and watched him work, smiled at how he was totally focused, using the plane with concentration. He turned around, surprise on his face. Miranda smiled.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you now.’ Her smile faded, the words were rather less than welcoming. It was too bad, they needed to talk. Her heart hardened.
‘Are you busy? Because we’ve got a problem.’
‘Right,’ said Ben, with a bit more concern as he pulled her inside and closed the front door. It was dark in the room but a lamp changed that.
‘Here, have a seat. Would you like some tea?’
‘After you’ve heard what I’ve come to say. It’s bad news.’ Ben leant against his workbench and waited.
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