by Louise Hare
Mrs Ryan waved as soon as she saw him. ‘Lawrie, thank God!’
‘What is going on?’ he asked, turning back to look over his shoulder. Was it just him or were they all still watching him, as if they’d been waiting for him to arrive.
‘It’s Evie, love.’ She wrung her hands, her forehead creased with anxiety. ‘She’s been arrested.’
‘What?’ He shook his head, not understanding. ‘Evie? You sure?’
‘She came to see Agnes and that dirty copper was waiting for her. Made a right scene. All the lights flashing, two cars and four fellas, just to take that poor wee girl away.’ She shook her head. ‘I sent Derek off to see if he can find out what’s going on.’
He’d been a complete idiot. Rathbone had as good as told him that Evie was a suspect but Lawrie had been too caught up in his own concerns, too hurt at being lied to, to think that perhaps he should be warning her.
‘When was this?’ he asked.
‘Not long ago. Maybe half an hour?’
He ran into the house passing Arthur in the hallway, arguing with someone on the telephone.
‘Agnes isn’t answering the door so I made Arthur call the police station but they won’t tell him anything.’ Mrs Ryan followed him inside.
‘You know where Derek went?’
‘Not exactly.’ Mrs Ryan looked shifty. ‘Well, probably he’s gone to the Atlantic. But only ’cause some ex-coppers drink there. He’ll have thought they might have had an ear out for this, what with it being in the papers and all.’
‘Then when Arthur gives up with the police tell him to call there. There’s a telephone behind the bar. I need Derek to give me a lift to the police station.’ Lawrie opened the back door. ‘You said Agnes definitely isn’t answering? She didn’t just go out?’
‘I’ve been knocking on since they took Evie. I suppose she could have slipped out when I went to put the kettle on…’
He needed Agnes. She was the only person other than him and Rathbone who knew about Evie’s baby and yet she was hiding away at home. He went out into the backyard and peered over the wall. He couldn’t see well enough into the kitchen to make sure it was empty but he decided to chance it and swung his leg over the wall.
‘Lawrie!’ Mrs Ryan hissed up at him. ‘Are you going in the back way?’
He nodded. ‘I mean, if she is in there we can say we thought she might have had an accident.’
‘Go on then. I’ll go round the front.’
He dropped into the Coleridges’ yard, light on his feet, peering through the kitchen window to check that no one was sitting there. He could see two plates left out on the table at the back, the cutlery left drunkenly askew amidst the remnants of a meal. They’d been eating when the police had called. The door was unlocked and he let himself inside just as he heard Mrs Ryan begin to knock once more on the front door.
He trod careful footsteps across the battered lino, his eye drawn to the plates of half-finished food, the chairs left askew in the chaos that must have unfolded earlier. Forcing himself on into the hallway he saw that on the low table by the door, next to the bowl of keys, was an envelope addressed to DS Kenneth Rathbone. Grabbing the letter he ignored Mrs Ryan while he checked in the front room but there was no one there, just a battered cardboard shoebox lying on the settee.
‘Agnes,’ he called up the stairs. There was no reply.
‘She’s not here?’ Mrs Ryan looked perplexed when finally he let her in.
‘Not downstairs,’ he said. ‘Can you go up and check? I don’t want to walk in on her if she’s up there.’
He went back into the front room while she went up, his heart clenching as he recognised Evie’s coat and handbag laid over the arm of the sofa. The shoebox was full of photographs and he picked up the top one, a family portrait. He looked closer and immediately recognised the blanket the baby was wrapped in.
White, with daisies that he would bet had been yellow.
Derek offered him a lift as soon as he asked, parking up on Windmill Drive and pulling out a newspaper, propping it up against the steering wheel. ‘You take your time,’ he said, as if Lawrie was headed off on a Sunday stroll.
Lawrie had told Derek as little as possible. It was better that way. There was no way of knowing how Derek would react if he knew the truth of the matter. He just hoped he was right and Agnes was close by. He didn’t trust Rathbone with the letter, not without Agnes herself to verify her story.
Lawrie slowed his pace as he drew near Eagle Pond and saw Agnes sitting on the bench, a suitcase by her feet. Seeking forgiveness for her sins, as she’d written it. He’d guessed that meant the place where she’d last seen her granddaughter, before she’d laid her down amongst the reeds. She must have cursed Lawrie for being in the wrong place at the wrong time – almost as hard as he’d cursed his own bad luck.
‘Agnes?’ he called, close enough that she had no chance to run, keeping his voice light so that she didn’t take fright. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
She whirled round. ‘Lawrie? What are you doing here?’
He held up the letter. ‘I’m sorry. You left the back door open. I wanted to make sure you were all right.’
‘You’ve read it, haven’t you? You must have known I’d be here. Did you call the police?’
He took a seat next to her on the bench and shook his head. ‘I came here to see how you were. To see if you might change your mind and stay.’
‘I won’t.’ Her voice wavered. ‘I’m not just leaving Evie in the lurch, you can see that. I was going to call the police station once I was out of London, tell them to go to the house. You’ve read the letter; you know that I’ve written it all down.’
‘And then what? You can’t hide in Devon. They’ll find you inside of a day,’ Lawrie pointed out.
‘I know that. I’m not going to Devon,’ she said. ‘I’ve got my own money, you know. I’ve been saving money for years, for Evie. It was for you, to help you buy a house.’ She patted the suitcase by her side. ‘I withdrew it from the bank the other week, just in case. With me gone, you can have my father’s house. I telephoned Gertie and told her I’d been offered a housekeeping job abroad, that it was better pay and I needed a fresh start. It’s all arranged.’
‘Forget the house, Agnes. What about Evie? She’ll be devastated,’ he told her. ‘You can’t just leave her to find out the truth from Rathbone. I believe you, Agnes, that it was an accident. So will Evie.’
‘It was an accident,’ she protested, even though he wasn’t contradicting her. ‘I only meant for Annabel to go to sleep for a few hours.’
‘Of course. Why would you take a healthy child from her parents if you meant to harm her?’ He tried to keep his voice from trembling as he spoke.
‘They were going to give her back, Lawrie. They said it was too difficult. People were saying horrid things about them, because she was coloured.’ Agnes snorted her derision. ‘As if I don’t know what that’s like! But I managed, didn’t I? They wanted to dump her in a children’s home and wash their hands of her. And him a man of God!’
‘You spoke to them?’
‘I tried to. I ran into Sister Mary down at the market the week before. She was a bit off with me and so I came out and asked her, was it to do with Evie’s baby? She wouldn’t say much but I already knew that it was a vicar and his wife had taken Annabel. She just said that they were having a bit of trouble. She hadn’t given up hope but she’d let me know if they decided to give her back.’ She looked back at the pond, caught up in memory.
‘So how did you find them?’ Lawrie tried to keep her talking.
‘Easy. People talk, especially those who should know better. I went over to Hammersmith and went round the churches until I heard the rumours. A few coloured folk had joined the church and the popular gossip was that the vicar had been quite taken with one of the women. The wife could barely look at Annabel. Blamed her husband for forcing her to take her in the first place. When I knocked on the door she thought
I’d come to take her away. Practically threw her at me! I couldn’t just leave the poor thing there. I made up some story about the baby’s mother wanting her back and the stupid woman, she was so happy! I could have smacked her.’
Lawrie already knew the rest from the letter. Agnes was a charlady for a house on the north side of Clapham Common. The family had gone off skiing for a week so it was the perfect place to take the child. Not knowing how to come clean to Evie, petrified that a neighbour would hear the baby cry, Agnes had crushed some of her own sleeping pills into the baby formula that the vicar’s wife, Mrs Westland, had given her and fed it to Annabel. It was only the next day when she returned before sunrise that she’d realised the dose was far too strong for an infant.
He cleared his throat and hoped he sounded convincing. ‘The Westlands will back your story. They’ll confirm that they handed Annabel over to you. You just needed time, to talk to Evie. To explain it all.’
‘That’s it exactly.’ She looked up at Lawrie, hope in her eyes for the first time. ‘D’you really think they’ll believe me? That it was an accident, I mean?’
‘Only if you hand yourself in. If you run away then you’ll lose everything. You’ll look guilty in the eyes of the police, of Evie. Everyone will assume that you meant to kill her, and it’ll only be a matter of time before the police find you.’
Agnes stared straight ahead for a long time before speaking again. ‘I used to come here when I was living at the home, just before Evie was born,’ she said, not really talking to Lawrie, her eyes fixed on the bulrushes in the pond. ‘It was the only place where I felt at peace, that’s why I brought her here. I couldn’t think where else to take her. I just wanted a new start. Is that so bad? I couldn’t do it all again, that’s all it was.’
She closed her eyes in pain and in the silence, Lawrie held his breath, watching the wave of conflicting emotions crash through her face in a violent wave. Finally, she moved and undid the catch on her suitcase and slid her hand in, pulling out a bulging envelope which she handed to him. ‘Take this then. For the wedding. Evie will need a new dressmaker.’ She fastened the case back up and stood, smoothing down her skirt. ‘Come on. Let’s get it over with.’
26
There was no tea on offer this time, just the manila folder, much thicker now than she remembered. Rathbone took a seat opposite and slid the cigarette packet across the table towards her. She hesitated before taking one.
‘I want a solicitor,’ she said once it was lit. That was what Derek had told Lawrie to say if they arrested him again. She knew she was in trouble.
‘I’ve sent for a solicitor but it might take some time, Evelyn. What with it being a Sunday and all.’ He grinned, his teeth bright yellow under the fluorescent light. ‘I thought we could have us a little chat before then. If there’s a simple explanation that excuses the evidence I’ve got before me then you’ll get home all that much quicker.’
She knew it was a trap. She also knew she wasn’t guilty. ‘What evidence?’
‘The baby. Ophelia, or whatever they called it. It was your baby all along.’
She sat up in the chair, her body turning cold. ‘You’re lying. I checked. She was adopted.’
‘Yes. By the good Reverend Westland and his wife.’ Rathbone shuffled his papers and put one in front of Evie. ‘From a home for mothers and babies on Cedars Road.’
The words on the page swam before her eyes. ‘They killed her?’
He chuckled. ‘A man of God killing a child? We’re not living in biblical times, Evelyn. No. But they wanted to give her back. Spoke to the wife yesterday when she came in. She’d read all the newspaper reports but she didn’t realise that Ophelia was her Sarah. That’s what they’d named her. So many names for one tiny baby!’ He held up a typewritten document, several pages long. ‘She had an awful lot to tell me, Evelyn.’
‘I don’t know her.’ Evie tried to keep the tremble from her voice. ‘I never met them. I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t even know that Annabel was alive. You spoke to my mother, you know it’s true.’
‘I know what she told me,’ he replied.
‘And it’s the truth,’ she insisted.
Rathbone turned the page of Mrs Westland’s statement. ‘The 15th of March. Two days before your fiancé found a baby in Eagle Pond. A woman came to the Westlands’ door, saying that she was from Cedars Road.’ He looked up at Evie. ‘She wasn’t, though. I think she was probably your mother. The description fits.’
‘Then why am I here? You left Ma back at home. you need to speak to her.’ Her voice was hoarse now, barely a whisper as she tried to fit pieces of the puzzle together.
‘Oh, I will. I’m just giving her some time to stew. When I look at your mother I see a woman who has given up her whole life for a daughter who doesn’t give a toss. A girl who didn’t want a baby messing up her life, not when things were finally starting to look up.’
‘No, that’s not—’
‘Shut up!’ He slammed his hand down on the table, Evie’s words stopping dead in her throat. ‘Your mother has been cleaning up after you this whole time. I’ll deal with her in due course, don’t you worry, but first I want to hear it from your own lips. You killed your daughter because she was in the way. You knew that Mr Matthews was close to proposing marriage and you thought that he’d call it off if he knew the truth. As indeed he has.’
Evie looked down at her bare finger, the engagement ring sitting in a pocket of her handbag where she taken it off, hating the feeling of desperation that descended upon her each time she glanced down at it.
‘Sarah Westland was wearing a pink dress on that day, and Mrs Westland handed back the blanket that had arrived with the baby. A white blanket with yellow daisies on it. Sound familiar?’
Evie’s sob sounded hollow in the small room.
‘You could have done the honourable thing, taken the child back to Cedars Road,’ Rathbone continued. ‘But I think that was too close to home. Give it a few years and that child would be running around near Clapham Common. Mr Matthews might easily come across her, what with his special deliveries and that. She might grow up looking like the spit of you and what then? A big mess, Evelyn. That’s what. You’re a clever girl. I think that your mother arrived home with a baby and you panicked. Used what was at hand. Sleeping pills, was it? Something you ladies take for your headaches?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ she said, her voice quiet. Defeated.
‘D’you think a jury will believe that?’ Rathbone was interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘I’m busy,’ he barked.
The door opened and a young detective poked his head through. ‘Sarge, this is urgent. You’d better come.’
Cursing under his breath, Rathbone got up, taking his folder with him. Evie wiped her face and took another cigarette from the packet. If Rathbone wouldn’t listen, would anyone else? She’d told so many lies already to so many people. Even Lawrie hated her. Only Ma could help. Would they hang her? Her hand shook at the thought and she couldn’t strike the match properly.
She threw down the unlit cigarette and went to the door, thumping on it hard before trying the door handle. It opened easily and Evie peered out into the empty corridor.
‘Hello?’ she called out, taking a step forward. ‘DS Rathbone?’
‘Evie?’ The voice that replied was familiar but so unexpected that she daren’t believe it until Lawrie turned the corner and was there, pulling her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘Getting you out of here,’ he said, pushing her back into the room and closing the door. ‘Just stay in here a while where it’s safe.’
‘Where is everyone? Rathbone was just here but he left. I don’t know where he’s gone but you should leave before he comes back. He thinks that I—’
‘Sit down.’ He pushed her to sit and pulled the other chair round beside her. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
His eyes were soft and she knew that he’d been told about Annabel. ‘I know. Rathbone told me. About Annabel.’
‘I’m so sorry, Evie.’ He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. ‘Agnes confessed. I found her by the pond and I brought her straight here to Rathbone. They can get the Westlands to identify her as the woman who took the baby.’
‘She did it, then?’ Evie heard her voice as if from far away. It sounded very small.
‘She says it was an accident.’ His eyes slid away from hers and she knew he didn’t believe it. ‘But she’s with Rathbone now. It’s all over, Evie, you’ll be all right. She’s been arrested and we can go once Rathbone does the paperwork.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. We can get on with our lives. Get married. If that’s still what you want.’
She nodded. ‘But I want to leave here.’
‘Of course. We just need to sign something at the front desk and then we can go home.’
‘No, Lawrie. I don’t mean that. I can’t go home. Everyone saw them take me away. Everyone will know by now, and if not then they’ll know within a few days once the newspapers get hold of it. I have to leave it all behind. Start again somewhere new.’
He nodded. ‘I know somewhere we can go, just until we work out what to do. You think you can put up with Aston for a few days?’
She nodded. She’d be glad to see Aston. She’d be glad to see any familiar friendly face. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, as if a great weight was crashing through her. ‘Then let’s go.’
‘Wait!’ Lawrie tried to catch hold of her before she stepped out into the corridor but he was too late.
‘Evie?’
She turned to see her mother coming out of another interview room, Rathbone ahead of her. Her legs went to jelly with no warning, Lawrie having to catch her as she slumped towards the floor, her hand pressing against the cool wall as she tried to regain her balance.