Chapter 73
Then – Miranda
Tom wasn’t his usual self, far from it, but Miranda didn’t care. She stacked the glasses high on the shelf and dried her hands.
‘I wondered when you were going to turn up. If doing that job, delivering veg, is making you late, you’d better decide which job you want. Because we need someone who turns up on time.’
‘I’m not that late, and I’m here, aren’t I, I’m always here. And I haven’t been delivering veg this evening.’
‘So where have you been instead?’ asked Miranda.
‘At home, mostly, hanging around. You’re not so bright and chipper yourself. Could it be something to do with the tunnel?’
‘So you’ve heard about that.’
‘I have yes, Alice informed me, and Ben was here too, late last night, he’d been trying to get back into his workshop, but apparently someone had locked the door.’
‘It wasn’t me or Alice either. We left it open, like we found it.’
‘Somebody dropped the latch on the door, Ben couldn’t get in and neither could anyone else he asked, so he ended up sleeping on the couch in the parlour.’
‘I didn’t see him,’ Miranda insisted.
‘Maybe because you got back so late. I bet you didn’t even look in the parlour.’
Miranda hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to say so. She leant across and snatched up a rag. ‘I saw Ben this morning and he did look angry, but more than he should have done for being locked out. He would have got into his workshop by then.’
‘He’s angry about the thieving,’ said Tom, arranging the ashtrays on top of the bar.
‘And what thieving’s that?’ Miranda asked. She was dusting the back of the chairs but she stopped.
‘Someone’s been stealing some stuff from the church, don’t ask me what, Ben wouldn’t tell me and Wetherby Eisen didn’t say either.’
Miranda managed to stifle a gasp. ‘Could it have been some silver or pewter?’
‘All I know is that Eisen’s not happy and neither is Ben, from what I can tell.’
‘Haven’t you been to school today?’
‘Just for a while, until I saw Eisen. Ben now knows you went down the tunnel, taking Alice with you, and he also knows that Alice is my friend.’
‘So what if she is?’
‘I shouldn’t have told her about the tunnel, and now Ben’s angry with both of us. I don’t know why he’s bothered, anyway. There’s nothing to steal in his workshop but coffins.’
But the tunnel leads from the workshop to the crypt, and silver and pewter and God knows what. Dodgy stock that Ben’s involved with. And now someone has stolen the stock.
‘It wasn’t us,’ she said to Thomas. ‘I kept my eye on Alice always. We didn’t go as far as the crypt, despite the princess wanting to.’
‘Is that what you call her ?’ Tom asked, grinning. ‘You know I never thought it was you.’
‘Then who the hell was it?’ Miranda said, frowning, flinging her rag back onto the bar. I’d better go back to the church tomorrow.
Her previous visit, the one to find her red dress, hadn’t been successful. The vicar was out and so was his wife, and she hadn’t been able to find Mary-Ann.
‘She’ll probably be visiting the sick, dearie,’ said old Margie Mace, who was often around.
‘Do you know if they’re having a jumble sale, in aid of the church?’
‘Very probably, dear, they usually are. But not today, if that’s what you mean.’ Miranda sighed.
‘Look, Mrs Mace, I know this sounds odd, but would you mind showing me the clothes for the jumble? My mother gave something away by mistake.’
‘Of course, my dear, just come this way.’
Miranda followed Mrs Mace to the scullery. She’d seen the look in the woman’s eyes, she was thinking, no doubt, they were having it hard and hoping to get some items for free. Miranda blushed with the shame of it all.
‘It’s a red satin dress,’ she told Mrs Mace when they finally got there. ‘It’s torn at the bottom and I’d like it back, my ma wasn’t meant to give it away.’
‘I’m sure there aren’t any dresses in here,’ Mrs Mace told Miranda, scrabbling around in the box of donations. She was right, there weren’t. No dresses, no shoes, in fact nothing of interest, just a few repaired sheets and some bits of old jewellery, falling apart.
‘I’ll come back tomorrow,’ Miranda insisted. ‘Just in case.’
The next day, when she got to the gate, she saw Mary-Ann. ‘Mrs Mace told me you were missing a dress.’
‘I am,’ said Miranda, ‘it’s my best, red satin, and it’s got a huge tear but it’s still pretty good and my ma thinks she might have left it with you. I searched the box for the sale yesterday, but it wasn’t in there, we looked all through it. I don’t suppose you’ve some stuff elsewhere?’
‘Not that I know of. Are you sure your mother gave it to us?’
‘She left you a bundle in the porch outside. But the dress might have gone to the rag and bone man and if that’s the case, I’ve lost it forever.’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Mary-Ann, vaguely, looking as if she didn’t much care. She didn’t seem very keen to talk.
‘Well, thanks for your help,’ said Miranda, shortly. Not much help and a waste of time. She wandered through the rectory garden, heading for Scriveners Road and the alley, and thinking about the box of scraps. Sheets and socks and bits of old jewellery. Jewellery, damn!
She almost turned round and went back to the church. But the sun had gone in, it was starting to rain and she knew her mother needed her help. And then she was down for the late shift at Chaucer’s, more’s the pity. She couldn’t go back to the church, right now. But she would do soon, this time for Tom. She’d ask Mary-Ann about the necklace, the long thin string of turquoise beads, where Eisen had got it, and whether he’d stolen the thing from someone. Like Tom’s friend Louise. Miranda shivered. She was seriously troubled.
All around her people were involved in dodgy dealings, stealing goods or keeping secrets, Mary-Ann, her ma and Wetherby Eisen and even Ben was reluctant to talk. But she’d find out the truth of that necklace, for sure.
Even if she never regained her dress.
Chapter 74
Now – Aleph
Alice had seen Daniel die and Cressida needed to know about that. If I didn’t tell her, someone else would, and then she’d discover I was involved. It was better coming from me to begin with. I dreaded Cressida hearing the story.
Once she knew, her manner would change, she’d start being polite, or even pitying and everything we’d shared would be lost forever. I wanted to be like I was before, an ordinary person instead of a monster, or an object of pity that people looked down on. I knew I hadn’t a hope in hell.
I stared at Alice, feeling guilty. She shouldn’t have to carry the burden, alone. I’d have to tell Cressida sooner or later. My heart sank.
‘I don’t know when I’m going to tell her,’ I said, helpless.
‘If you think she’ll sleep with you if you don’t, you’re wrong about that.’ I blinked, surprised, and stared at Alice.
‘What?’ I said.
‘She’s gay, you know. You can’t have kissed her, or you’d know.’
I burst out laughing, despite my despair. ‘Kissing isn’t different, if you’re gay.’
‘How would you know?’ said Alice, boldly. ‘But all I meant was, if she’d rebuffed you, then you’d know.’
‘Unless she just didn’t like me much.’
‘Yeah, there’s that,’ said Alice, nodding, managing to make it sound quite possible.
‘So, your mother’s gay,’ I said, amused, but also somewhat sad and regretful.
‘She wasn’t always,’ Alice insisted. ‘When she was young, she liked men a lot.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘But if we’re talking about the accident, I haven’t told her because I’m afraid she’ll change if she knows.’
�
��I haven’t changed,’ said Alice, stoutly, ‘and I won’t either.’
‘Good,’ I said, ‘I’m glad about that.’ I owed it to Alice to tell Cressida, but that didn’t make my task any easier. Then the doorbell rang, it was Guinevere James. I’d never been quite so pleased to see her.
‘Alice is here, we’re just talking. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
‘That would be great,’ said Ginny, smiling and sauntering past me, into the kitchen. ‘Your bell’s no better.’
‘I haven’t exactly had time to fix it.’
‘No,’ said Ginny, glancing at Alice. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard about you. I’m glad you’re safe.’
‘I’ve always been safe,’ Alice insisted. ‘I was here all night.’
‘Right,’ said Ginny, looking at me. I poured more water into the pot.
‘It was good that Alice turned up,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to have to search all night.’ I smiled at the girl who frowned a little. But she said nothing.
Guinevere grinned and glanced at the shelf. ‘There’s a shoe up there,’ she said, mildly.
‘It’s a boot,’ said Alice, jumping up. ‘A woman’s boot, and very old.’ She carried the boot to the table, carefully. We all stared at it.
‘It’s also small,’ said Ginny, pensive, turning the boot around in her hand. ‘I don’t think it’s a woman’s boot, even though people were smaller back then. I think it’s a girl’s.’
‘I’ll try it on,’ said Alice, eagerly. She pushed back her chair back and stretched out her foot.
‘If the shoe fits,’ said Ginny, mildly. We both watched Alice try on the boot. It was far too small.
Alice was clearly disappointed. ‘She must have been even younger than me.’
‘She’d be older, actually,’ Ginny insisted. ‘It’s a very old boot, the girl’s probably dead, whatever her shoe size.’ Alice gave Ginny a filthy look.
‘She could have been older than we think,’ I said. ‘In the past, people were smaller. The Brontës were known to have tiny feet, and if the person who wore the boots was malnourished, her bones might not even have formed properly. Then, most likely, she would be smaller.’
‘That’s true,’ said Ginny, looking at me. I was sure we were both on the same track. Had the boot been Mary-Ann Parks’?
‘But it is very small,’ said Alice, determined. She was right, it was.
‘Then it must be a child or a girl,’ said Ginny.
And not the dead woman’s boot, I thought, briefly relieved, and then I felt cold. A missing child, I said to myself, and probably dead. A School Lane ghost, which was worse, even worse.
I waited to hear a child crying. Nothing happened.
‘I wonder what happened to the matching boot?’ Ginny said then.
‘Or the girl who owned it,’ Alice continued.
‘Let’s hope she’s not in the cellar,’ said Ginny.
Chapter 75
Then – Thomas
I’d barely been at school, yesterday, but today, I didn’t even bother to go. My mind was transfixed by what I’d seen, a missing church and the flat gravestones. And Ben needed a helping hand.
To retrieve the shoes from Eisen’s woodshed.
‘Don’t tell Miranda,’ Ben insisted, ‘she’d only make a huge amount of fuss.’ It was true, she would, but more than that, I was glad to be working alone with Ben. It made me feel like one of the lads. A man, almost.
‘Where are we moving the trunks to, Ben?’
‘Near the school basement, despite what she says, and then over time, to McCarthy’s shop on Narrowboat Lane. I’ve explained to Wetherby, he’s going to help.’
‘You’ve told Mr Eisen about the trunks!’
‘I had to tell him, they’re clearing the woodshed, tomorrow at the latest. He wasn’t very pleased, on top of the news about the thieving, so I said we’d move the trunks to the basement, but only for a while, no longer than a month, I promised him that.’
‘But the basement’s used as a soup kitchen. Miranda said they’d be seen in there.’
‘The trunks won’t actually be in the kitchen. We’ll be storing them in the narrow passage, the one between the tunnel and the basement, just for a while.’
‘The place you didn’t want them stored last time?’ Ben sighed and looked disgruntled.
‘I don’t have to answer to you, Thomas. But as you’re a mate, I’ll do it this once.’ I waited, patiently.
‘Before, we needed to access the tunnel, using the passage that ran from the basement. But at the moment, for various reasons, we don’t need to do that. So it’s fine to store the shoes in the passage.’
Because of the thefts, I said to myself. Something’s changed, or stopped, because of them. I stayed silent.
‘So are you free this afternoon?’
‘Today?’ I squeaked, surprised and dismayed. Ben gave a hoot.
‘Of course today, there’s no point delaying.’
‘Right,’ I said. There’s no point at all.
Getting down to the basement was easy, Ben had squared it with Wetherby Eisen. I just had to convince Jake.
‘Tell him Wetherby says it’s alright.’ Ben had given me a pile of coppers.
‘He’ll believe that?’ I said, sceptical.
‘He will when you give him some of these.’ My eyes widened. ‘They’re all for him?’ I said, sourly.
‘And you, as well, if we get the job done. I’ll leave it to you to divvy them up. So long as you make sure Jake gets us in.’
‘Right,’ I told him, grinning broadly. I was definitely feeling a little taller.
We opened the door and trundled downstairs, into the basement. We then used Jake’s key to get into the passage, the narrow passage that led to the tunnel. Then came the hard part.
Bringing the trunks down to the passage, one at a time. I was scared as hell that someone would see us, Pike or a mate, and ask us what on earth we were doing. Nobody did. Eisen and Jake must have fixed it between them, Jake for the dosh and Wetherby Eisen, because Ben asked him. Why would Wetherby Eisen bother? Then I remembered, they were meant to be mates. Odd, I thought, Ben hanging round with a bloke like Eisen.
We eased each trunk into the passage, first the one, then the second, lifting the second to put it on top. Then we opened the third trunk.
‘Hand me that sack,’ Ben insisted and I passed it across and Ben grabbed it, filling it up with the shoes from the trunk.
‘Not too full,’ I warned him, sharply. ‘I’ve got to take that up to the street, and then along to McCarthy’s shop.’
‘You feeble thing!’ said Ben, laughing. ‘It won’t be heavy, trust me, Thomas.’
‘But it shouldn’t look like stolen goods.’ Ben stopped laughing.
He lifted the lid of the second trunk, shoving the unwanted shoes inside. ‘Got to make sure I get them in pairs. Hold up the lamp.’
I lifted it up and Ben gave a grunt as he peered inside the neck of the sack. Then the light went out and Ben swore at the almost-dark as he dropped a boot from inside on the floor. ‘We don’t need this.’
I watched as Ben twisted the sack, knotting it, tightly, then handing the stock in the sack to me and getting to his feet. ‘I reckon that’s it, at least for now.’ Ben shoved the passage door shut with a kick before locking it firmly, leaving the other two trunks inside. It was hard to see without the light.
Then I saw him pick something up off the floor and put it on a shelf, right at the top.
‘It wasn’t one of a matching pair,’ Ben explained as we climbed the stairs to the joinery workshop. ‘It was made for a girl, and didn’t look new. I doubt she’ll even miss the thing.’
How sad, I thought as we went outside, Ben holding on to the empty trunk. I wondered who the shoe had belonged to.
Chapter 76
Now – Aleph
Not long after Ginny arrived, Alice departed. A little reluctant but knowing she had to go home to her mother. ‘I really don’t want
to go,’ she said.
‘But Aleph will let you come back tomorrow. Won’t you Aleph?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but that’s not the point. She just doesn’t want to talk to her mother.’
‘She only wants what’s best for you.’
‘I know,’ said Alice, looking at Ginny. ‘And I do too.’ Then she left.
After she’d left, Ginny and I sat there in silence, neither of us knowing quite what to say. Guinevere broke the silence first. ‘We think she saw what happened that day, when the little boy died. Do you think that’s likely?’
‘You’d have to ask Alice,’ I said, frowning. I couldn’t break a client’s confidence, and Alice was a kind of client. ‘Talk to her mother, not to me. Except, I’ve remembered, you don’t know Cressida, or Alice either. And yet you knew about Alice going missing. How did you get the sound file you gave me, with Alice on it?’
‘I heard about Alice from a friend of Cressida’s.’
‘She was the one who gave you the sound file? And without Cressida’s permission?’
‘Yes,’ said Guinevere, ‘I know it was wrong.’
‘You lied to me about your business, and the possible takeover, it was all made-up. That didn’t stop you doing it again, when it came to Alice.’
‘No,’ she said. And had the grace to look embarrassed.
‘So all that stuff about Mary-Ann Parks and her body in the cellar was just a diversion? You haven’t a scrap of interest in the woman.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong, Mr Jones,’ said Ginny. She was clearly relieved we’d changed the subject. ‘I’m very interested in Mary-Ann Parks. Do you want to know why?’
‘I expect you’ll tell me,’ I said, sighing.
‘I’ll have to confess to another lie,’ said Guinevere, softly. She didn’t seem sorry.
‘Get on with it then.’
‘You’ll have noticed, I’m sure, that my cousin, Marianne, and the dead Mary-Ann are both called Parks. Well, that’s because they’re from the same family.’
‘Well, what a surprise,’ I said, sourly.
‘After Mary-Ann Parks eloped, along with her lover, Wetherby Eisen, or so it was thought, the parents moved and nobody wanted the church’s living. Clara went with them, she was Mary-Ann’s sister, her younger sister. She later had a child of her own.
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