by Daisy White
Lily shakes her head, watching Summer, who is gurgling on her rug.
“She isn’t a pretty lady, not like her, but she is always nice to me,” Ella tells us.
“Lily, what happened the night the doctor came? When Ella slept with you . . . Did you get out? Was that the night you went down to the beach?”
Lily screws up her little face, eyes glistening, but she sniffs and rubs a hand across them, pushing the tears away. “I never knew what time it was because it was always dark, but she came and took me out. She was shouting everywhere for Ella, and she kept asking me where she was. She shook me hard.”
“But you didn’t tell her?” I prompt, hardly daring to breathe.
“No. She was different, almost mad, and I was afraid for Ella, so I didn’t tell her. She gave up looking in the end, and dragged me out of the house. I smelt the sea, and the air was cold on my face.” She pauses at the memory. “It was dark and raining, but she took me down to the sea.”
“Did she say anything to you?” Kenny asks.
“No. She was sort of talking to herself, about how she wasn’t going to let him get away with it, so she was taking us both away for good. It didn’t make any sense. When we got down to the beach the rain was worse, and the wind was blowing us along. I wanted to run away but she held my hand so tightly . . .”
“What happened on the beach, Lily?” Beverly reaches out a gentle hand and rubs the girl’s arm. “It’s OK, nobody will hurt you now.”
“She took me into the sea. I was so scared I screamed and hit her and kicked her, but she was strong.”
Silence while we all digest the horror of this, and then Ella speaks. “But you got away from the sea. I thought you had left home like all the others.”
“I’m a good swimmer,” Lily says. “At home with my mum . . .” — tears are falling properly now — “I used to swim every day in the pond by the house with my brothers. I miss my mum and dad so much.”
“We can find your mum, and we can take you back home, Lily,” I tell her firmly.
Beverly takes a deep breath. “Ella, darling, do you know where you lived with your sisters?”
She shakes her head. “A big house in London sometimes, or a big house near the sea with lots of floors. It has a blue front door.”
“Lots of men come through the door,” Lily says suddenly. “Not the blue door, but the brown one with locks.”
“OK. I’m going to say some names, and I need you to tell me if you recognise any of them,” I say at last. I repeat the Stockers, and add DS Appleton, Stocker’s cousin Jeff Kendle, and I even tag Will on the end.
The girls shake their heads, more animated after our conversation, but still wary. Their speech and mannerisms are those of much younger children, and when one speaks, the other watches her constantly.
“How about Trixie?”
Both girls nod, and smile.
“Trixie looked after us a lot. She was sometimes a bit cross, and once she slapped a man, but she was kind.”
“Did Trixie live with you?”
Lily shrugs, “No, she just stayed sometimes. She lived in London, I think.”
“Are you sure you don’t remember any other names?” Mary says gently.
The girls are silent for a moment, but reluctantly shake their heads again.
I risk one last question. “Ella, when the police found you on the beach, you were with another girl. What were you doing?”
“I was lonely by myself, and he said maybe I could find another sister. He stayed in the car, but he gave me some money.” She frowns, “He never gave me money before. I started talking to a girl, and she seemed nice. I knew I should take her back to the car, but I saw the ice cream sign on the shop, and I had money . . .”
“You were taking her to buy an ice cream?” Beverly says, quickly.
Ella smiles, “Yes. She was happy too. But then everyone started shouting, and a man dragged her away. When I looked for the car, it was gone. The police took me away . . .” Her eyes fill with tears.
“They may not have heard their names. We need photos!” Kenny says suddenly. “We can come back with photographs. I have lots of the Stockers in the Herald archives.”
I suggest to the girls that they sit down and talk to Beverly while I get some tea. Kenny nods, “I’ll come and help you.”
As soon as we’re out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind us, he lets out a low whistle. “Bloody hell, Rubes, what do you make of that?”
“Well, we were all right, and if we can get them to identify these people from the photographs, surely Inspector Hammond will be able to arrest Stocker, and get something on Appleton?”
“Appleton is going to be a tough one. The police don’t like to turn in one of their own, but, like I said before, Hammond is a good copper, so we’ll have to trust him. You didn’t mention Hector and Eva to Ella?”
I shake my head. “They’ve gone, haven’t they, and if we're right and they took Ella, they were just another example of people being used by John Stocker. She doesn’t remember anything anyway. I did wonder for a while if it was just Hector and Eva and they took Ella away with them, up to London and then around Europe, but they wouldn’t have the power to silence all those neighbours on White Oak, and they have no motive for sending Beverly to prison.”
“I hate to point it out, but neither does John Stocker at the moment,” Ken says as we walk into the kitchen. “Unless you're going with the possible trouble between Beverly’s uncle over the house, or the boyfriend, Barry Green. Or the idea that they didn’t have kids so they just stole other people’s.”
“What about the other men coming in? That suggests some sort of brothel, doesn’t it? You see, as soon as you say there isn’t a motive, something comes up. It’s all there, we just need to dig deeper. Or the police can. If you let Miss Smith know what’s happening, I’ll ring the inspector now.”
“Done,” he sighs. “Those poor girls.”
“I know. Ken? Don’t tell her about Appleton and the Stockers yet, will you? Not until we’ve spoken to the police,” I say quickly.
“I’m not daft, Miss Baker. Even I know you can’t go around accusing people until they’re proven guilty.” Kenny waves a hand towards the telephone. “Go on, I’m sure she won’t mind.”
He nods and I wait until I hear his footsteps in the other room, then Miss Smith's exclamations as he explains what has happened. Then I pick up the telephone.
The desk sergeant takes down all the details and notes my urgent request for photographs to identify the men, but he tells me the inspector is out all day on another case and won’t be back until later tonight, and DS Appleton has gone back to Hastings. “He might be back in tomorrow. You can telephone him at Hastings police station if you like. He was here all week working on the Collins case, wasn’t he?”
Like hell I’m going to tell that bastard what’s going on, but I simply tell him I’d rather speak to Inspector Hammond about it.
Miss Smith comes into the kitchen as I put the receiver down, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “What did the police say?”
“Inspector Hammond is out until late so he probably won’t get the message until tomorrow.” I glance at the grandfather clock in the hallway. Half past seven. No chance of anything happening until tomorrow.
“Those poor girls. Kenny told me what they said.” Miss Smith’s mouth is set in a hard line, her eyes narrowed. “I’ve cared for a lot of children, and I’ve never had one yet that hasn’t left here happy and ready to face the world. Now that Lily is talking we can start to help her properly. Poor little thing, I do hope we can trace her parents as well. I assume the police will finally be able to bring these evil people to justice.”
“We hope so,” Kenny says.
Returning to the others we find Beverly in tears again and Mary looking worried.
“They want to stay together. Ella wants to stay with Lily tonight,” Beverly explains, biting her lip.
“Well, can
’t Lily go back to your house with Ella?” I suggest, looking at Miss Smith.
She shakes her head. “I wish she could, but I can’t possibly let her leave without authorisation, especially considering the current situation . . .”
“We can come straight back tomorrow,” Beverly tells Ella, who is now sitting on the sofa, holding hands with Lily.
“No! Please let her stay! If she goes I won’t be able to sleep in case they come in the night.” Lily’s big eyes are filled with tears.
Miss Smith sighs. “She's woken up screaming most nights since she arrived. Some of them do have problems, of course, but I have tried everything to reassure her she’s safe now and yet nothing has stopped the nightmares.”
“That’s because they are real,” Lily tells her seriously, “The men are real and they are in my head now. I can’t get them out.”
I slip an arm around Beverly’s shoulders, as Mary tentatively suggests that if Miss Smith doesn’t mind perhaps Ella can stay here just the one night, and we can all come back tomorrow when the police have got back in touch.
“Or Beverly can come straight back up in the morning maybe?” I say, knowing how much she won’t want to be apart from her daughter.
“Perhaps I could stay too, if there is room?” Beverly turns to Miss Smith.
“Well, you could sleep on the sofa, but I don’t really—”
Ella interrupts. “I want to stay and look after Lily. Beverly . . .” We all register the pain that flickers across her mother’s face at being addressed as such by her daughter. “. . . Beverly can come back tomorrow and if the policeman can’t find Lily’s mum and dad right away she can come and live with us for a bit, can’t she?”
“Yes!” Lily agrees, a cautious smile lighting up her thin, pale little face. “Shall I take Ella to tea, Miss Smith?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s pretty quiet on the drive back down to Ship Street. I’m struggling with mixed feelings of frustration and horror that we have a whole row of suspects lined up but we can’t do a thing about them except tell the police and trust Inspector Hammond will act. Beverly, who is huddled in the back with me, blows her nose loudly and stares out of the window.
“It’s very early days for Ella yet. I think you did the right thing by letting her stay with Lily. It shows that you trust her, but it must be awful. You're so brave,” Mary tells her, cuddling Summer in the front seat.
“I don’t mind that she wants to care for Lily, in fact I admire it. It just hurts so much that she isn’t bothered whether I’m there or not. You heard what they implied about those men. It makes me feel like screaming and tearing my hair out to think of my little girl being hurt, afraid, and locked up for ten years. I thought all that would stop if I found her. I suppose I never really thought past just getting her back. But we’ve been apart ten years, and she’s learned to live without me.” Beverly’s face crumples, and I hug her close.
“If you let me know what time tomorrow, and what Inspector Hammond says, I can pick you up and take you back to the orphanage. Miss Smith was really helpful, so I don’t imagine she’ll be bothered about you going straight up,” Kenny says. “I’ll have to sneak out but I can do it. There are definitely pictures of the Stockers and lots of their friends in the archives, so I’ll get those ready too.”
“He might want us all to go down to the police station,” I say. “I hope not, though, because it might scare Ella and Lily.”
“He isn’t stupid.” Beverly blows her nose vigorously on a little pink handkerchief. “Not like that bastard Appleton. You know, that’s probably why he’s being so careful. When this gets out the police are going to look right fools. Imagine having a criminal in their midst and letting him help convict innocent people. I bet it isn’t just me either. Think of all the other cases that might have involved Stocker’s people that Appleton might have sabotaged.”
Kenny pulls over to let us out, the old car grinding to a halt so quickly Beverly and I tip forward and I put my foot right through one of the rusty holes in the floor.
“You know, Ken, I think you might have a job to sell this on after you’ve finished with it,” I tell him, forcing a smile, “but thank you for driving us up there. When we can break this story, you’ll get that front-page exclusive.”
He smiles up at me. “I’ll tell James when he can untangle himself from that Alice chick. God, she’s annoying — I really hope he moves on to the next one soon.”
I laugh. “You’re just jealous because you haven’t got a girlfriend!”
Kenny pulls a face at me. “Think I’ve got time for some woman hanging around, when I’ve got all these murders and missing people to sort out? No time for dates at the moment. Sorry Rubes, you missed out!”
Beverly looks exhausted, but she hurries off to get the bus back to Rottingdean, promising to telephone if she hears anything, and if not, that she will get the first bus up to Dyke Hill Road in the morning.
As soon as we get into our little bedsit, Mary settles down to feed the baby. “God, I’m so exhausted,” she breathes out. I glance quickly at her face, but there is still light behind her eyes.
“I’m so glad you were there,” I tell her, getting out a saucepan and cutlery for a late meal. “As soon as I’ve done this, I’m going back down to the salon to ring this Trixie woman again. After everything the girls said, she could probably tell us exactly what was going on. With evidence from her as well, I think we could get Appleton arrested.”
“Me too. It sounds silly, but it makes me terrified for Summer as she grows up. I mean, Beverly was in the same position as me, and she was obviously a good mum, but you can’t watch them all the time, can you?”
I shake my head, knowing there isn’t an answer to that one. “I got sausages and potatoes earlier, and a tin of peas. When does Summer start eating normal food?”
“Oh, not for a while yet. I think five or six months, but she's starting to get teeth already. I can feel bumps in her gums.”
Summer goes down to sleep with a little grumble and none of the ear-splitting howls we have been used to. At least something is working out alright.
I creep out, and dial Trixie’s number. Again, and again the line connects, but it just rings and rings. After an hour of frustration, I reluctantly give up, and tiptoe back into bed.
The Collins case spins around in my mind, sending shadowy kidnappers dancing up the walls of the bedsit and making me jump at the street noises far below our window.
By seven the next morning, I’m down in the salon ringing the police station. To my annoyance, I can’t get past the desk sergeant. It must be the same chap as yesterday, because he is infuriatingly slow, and I can hear him rustling papers down the telephone line.
I update Johnnie when he appears, and he listens carefully, cat-like eyes crinkling at the corners as he frowns. When I get to the bit about the desk sergeant he is suitably furious, but philosophical. “What can you expect, darling? The police are so slow they miss everything. I hate to say it, but you need to carry on as normal until they telephone with news. I can’t bear to think what those girls have been through, but do keep in mind that they are safe now.”
“Kenny wondered if Inspector Hammond was just being careful on this case because of DS Appleton. It makes sense, because as you say, the girls are safe, and Stocker doesn’t have anyone to hurt now, so there isn’t any urgency.”
Johnnie considers this. “He has a point. It can’t be easy raking up a ten-year-old case, and then getting evidence to incriminate a colleague. You might just have to trust him on this one. If you can manage to track down Trixie, assuming she will speak out, and she was there looking after the girls while all this was going on, you would have a solid case. But even without her, John Stocker and this DS Appleton are not going to be able to wriggle out of this, I’m sure. How is Beverly?”
I put more towels onto a pile in the corner, carefully lining them up next to a bottle of shampoo. “Well, she isn’t happy about Ella b
eing up at Alice’s, but she says she’s going up there again today. Kenny offered us a lift so we can be there when the police show the girls the photographs.”
“Do you think Inspector Hammond will be happy with that?”
“Of course. I don’t think Ella or Lily will talk without us there too. If I was them I’d be terrified of even being in the same room as any men.”
Kenny calls around lunchtime for an update, and Beverly rings from the orphanage to tell me that Ella wants to stay another night. She sounds resigned and slightly tearful again.
Around two the rain starts, and our bedraggled clients leave muddy footprints around the salon. The basket by the door is full of dripping umbrellas, and Miss White tells me with gloomy certainty that summer is over.
Mary bustles past, sweeping wet piles of snipped hair out of the way of incoming customers. “I can’t believe they haven’t rung yet. Every time I think it’s going to be the police, and it bloody isn’t!”
“I know, my heart practically explodes out my chest every time I hear the telephone,” I tell her, mixing a colour for Catherine’s dark-haired clients. I pass the little dishes over, and call to Eve, “Shall I do the tea?”
“Thanks love, I need four white with one sugar and one black without,” she says, comb between her teeth, scissors poised.
Johnnie is in the back room, unpacking a new box of conditioner, and he raises his eyebrows at my gloomy face. “Don’t say it, darling, I know it’s frustrating. The thing is, Hammond might have already been down and arrested Stocker. They might be questioning him now.”
“What about Appleton?”
“Harder. They won’t want to turn on one of their own. Darling, whatever problems I have with Inspector Hammond, he is an honest copper. But do be aware that any rumours of gossip could ruin him. DS Appleton sounds like he plays dirty, so if he can use anything to keep himself from an investigation, he will.”
I drop the packet of biscuits. “Oh God, I never thought of that. You mean Appleton might be blackmailing Hammond and that’s why he won’t investigate him?”