Love Walked Right In

by Pam Weaver

  Michael slept all afternoon, so Ruby was able to sit in on the ‘How to gas-proof a room’ talk. The title was a little ironic, given what had happened to Jim a few feet away, but she not only took in the talk, but also watched the man who was giving it. If she herself was going to teach, then she needed to study the technique.

  They had all introduced themselves while Ruby was preparing the tea trolley, so she missed his name. It wasn’t until he was about halfway through his talk that Ruby realized why he seemed so familiar. It was Mr Balentine, the man who – along with Miss Bullock – had brought Franz and Albrecht to the house the previous year. It brought her up with a jolt. What a lot had happened since then. When Albrecht and Franz had arrived, she’d been a frustrated wife with an invalid husband. Now she was a mother and a widow.

  She’d remembered that Mr Balentine wasn’t exactly handsome, but he had an open, honest face and smiled a lot. He was clearly passionate about what he was doing. Using drawings and diagrams that he had obviously made himself, he told the assembled audience that they should keep a pile of newspapers handy.

  ‘They can be soaked and stuffed on the floor,’ he said, although he didn’t actually explain why that was a good idea. ‘A blanket across a support frame will prevent anything coming down into the fireplace,’ he went on, ‘and you should use strips of sticky paper to seal along the skirting boards and the windows.’

  It all sounded very scary and Ruby wondered how you would know when to do all this. If the gas attack had already taken place, surely you would have succumbed long before you had a chance to seal everything up; and if he was suggesting that they live permanently shut up in an airless room, well, that didn’t sound very healthy, either.

  ‘To minimize cuts from flying glass,’ Mr Balentine went on, ‘stick brown-paper strips across your window panes, and remember to keep a pack of cards handy, to while away the time until the all-clear.’

  At the end of his discourse Mr Balentine asked for any questions, but Ruby chickened out. He might not do the talk again if she pointed out the all-too-obvious flaws in the plan.

  ‘Would you be willing to let us use this room one more time, Mrs Searle?’

  The meeting had ended and Mr Balentine was packing up his things.

  ‘We shall be using the cottage next door to the police station from the week after next. I’m being allowed in to create a mock-up of what’s required, and then we can actually have everything in place for the demonstration.’

  Just once more, Ruby thought to herself. ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t see your husband this time,’ he remarked, as he paid the invoice and she showed him to the door. ‘I hope he is well.’

  Ruby lowered her eyes. ‘I’m afraid I’m a widow now, Mr Balentine.’

  He looked genuinely embarrassed. ‘Oh, Mrs Searle,’ he said, ‘how clumsy of me. I am so sorry.’

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ she said pleasantly. ‘You weren’t to know.’

  He gave her a sympathetic smile and tipped his hat. Ruby closed the door behind him and watched him go down the path, through the small window at the side of the door. As he turned to close the gate, she ducked out of sight. He was a nice man. Considerate.

  Imogen was shopping in Worthing. She had bought herself a new frock at Smith & Strange and treated herself to some new shoes from Watts’. She had parked the car at the end of Warwick Street and was hurrying back. Her husband was coming home tonight. The big court case in London was finally over and he could return to normal life in Worthing.

  When she spotted the woman coming towards her, her heart missed a beat. She had never been formally introduced, but she recognized Ruby’s neighbour straight away. Something rose up inside her. Ruby still hadn’t challenged this kidnapper – and Michael was nearly a month old, for goodness’ sake. She’d had plenty of time to go through Jim’s papers again, and yet this woman was still keeping some other woman’s child as a hostage. It wasn’t right.

  Imogen didn’t know exactly when she decided to take matters into her own hands. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but totally irresistible. As Lena went by, Imogen called her name.

  ‘Marlene . . .’

  Lena stopped walking and turned round.

  Imogen held her breath and, stepping into the porch of Whibley’s, pretended to study the contents of the jeweller’s shop window. In actual fact she was using the reflection in the window to see what Lena was doing on the other side of the road.

  After a couple of minutes spent scouring the crowd for a familiar face, Lena began to walk hesitantly on.

  ‘Yoo-hoo,’ Imogen called again. ‘Marlene Amberley.’

  Lena spun round with a look of sheer terror on her face, but could see no one she recognized. Imogen glowed with smug pleasure. With one small call, she had proved that Lena was indeed the infamous child-napper, Marlene Amberley. Just wait until Ruby heard this. Or should she go to the police herself?

  By now, Lena was running – running down the road and looking behind her in panic. Imogen walked briskly to her car. She had only gone a few steps when she heard the squeal of brakes and a loud bang. When she looked back, a car had stopped in the middle of the street and people were running towards it.

  Back in her own car, Imogen pulled out and headed towards the commotion. As she crawled by, she could see that a young woman had been knocked over by a car. She appeared to be badly injured; at least she wasn’t moving, and someone had covered her with his coat. Imogen’s blood ran cold as she recognized her. It was Lena.

  CHAPTER 30

  Whoever was ringing the doorbell was most persistent. Ruby had been settling Michael down after his feed and hurried downstairs as quickly as she could. The doorbell was still going. If whoever it was didn’t stop, she’d have Michael crying for hours. She pulled the door open and a man she’d never seen before stood on the step. He was in his thirties, with light-coloured hair and a moustache. He wore a dark coat, which was open, and she could see a smart suit underneath. It was raining hard and his bare head was already wet, although where he now stood in the porchway he was protected from the weather.

  ‘Mrs Searle?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m Ambrose Hayward, Imogen’s husband.’

  For a second she was thrown. Until he said his name, she had it in mind that he was someone looking for lodgings for the night. Despite the awful weather, she would have had to refuse him. She couldn’t invite a lone man into her house, now that she was on her own. Not only would it put her reputation at risk, but it wasn’t safe.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, and then as a second thought rushed through her head, she put her hand to her throat. ‘Imogen, is she all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and no. Look, I know it’s late, but may we come in?’

  It was only then that she saw that her friend was sitting in the car on the driveway.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

  Ruby stepped back and left the door open while he went to open the passenger door of the car. When she saw Imogen’s face, Ruby was alarmed. Something was clearly very wrong. Imogen’s eyes were red and puffy and it was obvious that she was very upset.

  ‘Oh, Ruby,’ she said as she walked through the door, ‘I’ve done a truly awful thing.’

  Ruby made them both a warm drink while they took off their coats. Ensconced in the sitting room, they cupped their hands around mugs of cocoa.

  ‘It’s Lena,’ Imogen blurted out. ‘I saw her in the street.’ Now that she had Ruby’s full attention, she glanced anxiously at Ambrose.

  ‘Immie has told me everything about your conversation concerning Lena’s little girl,’ he said simply.

  ‘I know you told me to leave it,’ said Imogen tearfully, ‘but I just couldn’t.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘I kept thinking about that poor little girl, without her proper mother, and I knew I had to do something.’ She covered her mouth with her handkerchief and looked helplessly a
t Ruby.

  ‘So what did you do?’ Ruby repeated.

  ‘I didn’t jump out on her or anything,’ said Imogen. ‘She walked right by me. I was in Whibley’s doorway and she was on the other side of the road.’ She put her handkerchief into her lap and began to wind it into a rope.

  Ambrose put his hand over hers and gave her a smile of encouragement. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to frighten her,’ she choked. ‘I just wanted to know for sure that it was her.’

  ‘And?’ said Ruby.

  ‘I shouted her name,’ said Imogen. ‘Well, not “Lena”, but “Marlene Amberley”. You know, as if I was a friend calling.’

  Ruby felt slightly relieved. She had been dreading that Imogen was going to say something far worse. ‘And what did she do?’

  ‘She must have panicked,’ she said. ‘She ran away, but kept looking back. I suppose she was scared someone from her past was coming after her. She wasn’t looking where she was going, and then . . . and then . . .’ Imogen burst into tears.

  ‘She got knocked down,’ said Ruby, finishing the sentence for her.

  Imogen and Ambrose looked at her in surprise. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Eric told me, before the police took him to the hospital,’ said Ruby. ‘The police – and Eric, for that matter – were under the impression that Lena may have tried to kill herself. Do you think she ran in front of the car deliberately?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Imogen. ‘I don’t think so, but I didn’t actually see it happen. I heard the squeal of brakes and the bang, that’s all.’ She unravelled the handkerchief and blew her nose noisily. ‘She was only trying to get away. Is she . . . is she dead?’

  Ruby shook her head. ‘No, as far as I know, she’s not dead.’

  Imogen shook with relief and Ambrose pulled her into his arms. Ruby watched them, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She was annoyed with Imogen for interfering, but even crosser with herself that she had allowed having Michael, and getting him into a routine, stop her from dealing properly with this problem. She also felt a sense of relief for Eric. When he had turned up on the doorstep, his face was white with fear, and she could tell that next to the thought that he might have lost her, he dreaded being told that Lena had attempted to take her own life.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t have done it,’ said Imogen, blowing into Ambrose’s clean handkerchief, ‘but I just wanted to make sure that little girl was safe.’

  ‘Well, you can put your mind at rest now,’ said Ruby. ‘She’s perfectly safe. As a matter of fact, she’s upstairs fast asleep in my bed.’

  Ruby could see relief written all over Imogen’s face.

  ‘Immie tells me that you have some newspaper cuttings appertaining to the case,’ said Ambrose.

  Ruby nodded. ‘My late husband kept them in a box,’ she said. ‘I know he saw Eric on the day he died, but I have no idea why.’

  ‘Is it possible that I could take a look?’

  She remembered that Imogen had said he was a solicitor. ‘Of course.’ She stood up to find the cuttings, which she had transferred from the gramophone-record box to a small cardboard folder.

  Ambrose worked his way through the cut-out slips of paper with a practised eye. Ruby had got as far as putting them in order and, when he reached the final clipping – a ‘Stop Press’ notice from the Bournemouth Daily Echo, she said, ‘When I saw that, although I still don’t know the full story, I stopped worrying about Jean.’

  ‘What is it?’ Imogen asked.

  Ambrose handed it to his wife.

  Stop Press

  Police have called off their search for missing toddler Christine West. A spokesman said last night, ‘Investigations have shown that there is no case to answer.’

  * * *

  Eric walked a little unsteadily into the pub. It had been an appalling shock to see Lena lying there in a hospital bed. They said she’d have to have an operation on her arm and would have to stay in for a week. He had almost keeled over when they said that. The nurse mistook his concern as worry about the cost, but it wasn’t that at all. They belonged to the Worthing Hospital Contributors’ Scheme at the chemist’s and paid thruppence a week for emergencies such as this. The shock was that he could have lost Lena forever.

  The landlord pulled his usual and, having dropped a few coins on the bar, Eric went to sit by the window. He wasn’t in the mood for talking.

  Left alone to his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the men come in. He only became aware of them when he heard raised voices.

  ‘You can search the whole bloody pub,’ the landlord was shouting. ‘I’m an honest man. If that thing was in my takings, it’s because some blighter passed it to me.’

  Eric looked up. The landlord was holding a five-pound note in the air. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

  ‘I can see it’s a forgery now,’ said the landlord, giving it back to one of the men, ‘but you don’t expect me to do this every time I get a note, do you? I’ll be here all ruddy night!’

  ‘Have you any idea who gave it to you?’ asked one of the men at the bar. He was dressed in a smart suit and carried a briefcase.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ snapped the landlord, ‘and I tell you now, if I ever catch him I’ll wring his bloody neck.’

  As silent as a mouse, Eric slipped out of the door.

  Ruby went to see Lena the next day, having left Jean and Michael in the care of her mother. Jean was making bubble pictures at the kitchen table and Michael was asleep in the porchway, in his pram. The weather was nippy but not cold, and he was well wrapped up. With the pram hood up and the pram itself facing the house, he was warm and snug. The district nurse was pleased with his progress. He had gained weight and, at almost a month old, he was alert and trying to focus his eyes. Jean seemed unperturbed that her mother wasn’t around. She enjoyed being at Ruby’s place and, so long as she had something to do, she was no trouble.

  The hospital had acquired a new front entrance, which had only just been officially opened. Ruby waited outside the ward doors until a nurse opened them, bang on the dot of three, and then all the visitors went in.

  Lena was at the far end of the ward. She was sitting up, with her pillows arranged on the backrest of the bed. Her face was bruised and the skin was broken in several places. It was a range of colours: blue bruises going green, and red wounds splattered with yellow iodine to ward off infection. Her arm was encased in plaster of Paris and was held in a sling. She had her eyes closed, but they sprang open as soon as Ruby said her name.

  There was a chair beside the bed. Ruby pulled it out and sat down. She had brought oranges and a banana. Apologizing, she explained that she would have brought grapes, but there were none in the shops.

  ‘How are you?’

  Lena smiled wanly. ‘Not too bad.’

  ‘You gave us all a bit of a scare,’ said Ruby. ‘I heard what happened.’

  ‘I should have been looking where I was going,’ said Lena.

  ‘You were looking for the person who called your name, weren’t you?’ said Ruby. She was anxious to get this all out in the open. The time for pretence was over.

  Lena looked away.

  Ruby placed her hand over Lena’s. ‘Now don’t get upset,’ she went on, ‘but I know all about you and Eric.’

  Lena turned and gave her a startled and fearful look.

  ‘It’s all right, Lena,’ said Ruby. ‘You have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Eric didn’t mean to get angry with Jim,’ said Lena. ‘He was perfectly all right when Eric left.’

  Ruby frowned. ‘What? I don’t understand.’ She wasn’t expecting any of this. She had meant to say that she knew about Jean.

  ‘The newspaper cuttings,’ said Lena. ‘Eric told me not to worry. He said he thought Jim was a reasonable man, and he’d go back and see him. Only then Jim did what he did, so he couldn’t. My Eric does have a bit of a temper, but he’d never hurt a fly.’

  Ruby thought it strange that Lena w
as talking as if the cuttings were still an issue. Surely, if Eric had seen the last one, he would realize that whatever secret they were hiding, he wasn’t in any trouble. Not with the police anyway. She opened her bag and took out the final cutting. When she handed it to Lena, Ruby was surprised by her reaction. As she read the words, the paper flapped as if it were in a force-nine gale and Lena wept silently.

  ‘Didn’t Eric tell you about this?’ Ruby asked.

  Lena shook her head. ‘He didn’t know. If he had, he would have told me.’

  ‘I’m sure Jim would have shown him.’

  ‘He might have wanted to, but Eric didn’t stay long,’ said Lena. ‘He lost his temper and left.’

  ‘Look,’ said Ruby. They were talking in whispers now. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but can’t you tell me what this is all about?’

  ‘They stole my baby from me,’ said Lena.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mr and Mrs West. I didn’t take her. The boot was on the other foot. They took my baby from me.’

  ‘Five minutes,’ said the nurse, walking down the centre of the ward. ‘Visiting time ends in five minutes.’

  Ruby was speechless. ‘So Jean really is your child?’

  Lena nodded. ‘Look, there’s not enough time to tell you all about it now, but I will tell you. I promise.’ She held the cutting up. ‘Can you do me one more favour. Can you give this to Eric for me? He needs to know.’

  ‘Where is Eric?’ asked Ruby.

  Lena’s face paled. ‘Isn’t he with Jean?’

  ‘I’ve got Jean,’ said Ruby. ‘Eric brought her round on his way to come and see you. He was with the police.’

  Lena looked shocked. ‘They arrested him?’

  ‘No,’ said Ruby. ‘Not as far as I know. They brought him here to see you. He said he was going to come right back for Jean, but I haven’t seen him since.’