by Pam Weaver
‘Of course,’ Stan agreed amicably. He turned to go.
‘The number …’ Jane began.
‘Beg pardon?’
‘You’ll want the number.’ She was writing it down on a piece of paper torn from the list on her clipboard. ‘It’s Goring 458.’
He took the number and stuffed it into his pocket.
‘And call her name on the way back,’ Jane suggested.
‘Beg pardon?’
‘Mandy’s. You never know, she could have gone in the opposite direction.’
‘Good idea,’ he said waving cheerfully.
Calling her name, he headed down Honeysuckle Lane until he was lost to view, then he stopped. It would be so much easier and quicker to go in the opposite direction. He could walk to Long Furlong and straight home but he wanted to avoid the searchers at all costs. He couldn’t afford to be trapped into staying in the woods to help them. He was in luck. The bus was parked right by the shops and because he ran, he caught it comfortably. As the bus sped down Salvington Hill, he saw the coach coming up. He smiled to himself. They could search until the cows came home but they’d never find her. Served her right, little tease, egging him on like that and then running away.
Of course they’d keep trying to find her even when it got dark. Once the children were safely back home, someone in the village would organise a search party. Not the minister, because he wouldn’t bother telling him. And when they complained, he’d tell them he was so concerned about his poor old mother that he’d clean forgot. He chuckled. Oh dear, oh dear. Everyone was going to have an awfully long night.
‘Roger, I’m scared.’
Roger put his arm around Connie’s shoulders. They’d been calling and searching for about fifteen minutes and there was still no sign of Mandy or Pip.
‘I know,’ Roger said quietly, ‘but there a good chance she’s simply got herself thoroughly lost.’
‘That Stan …’ she began.
‘Yes,’ said Roger. ‘What was all that about?’
Connie wanted to tell him but somehow the words got stuck in her throat.
‘I don’t know,’ said Connie. ‘He always was a bit creepy and like I say, I just don’t trust him.’
Roger’s face darkened. ‘But he’s the church pianist, isn’t he? Surely they would have checked his credentials.’
‘Reverend Jackson is very trusting,’ said Connie.
‘You mentioned something in the past …’
‘It was because of Stan that my brother was forced to leave home.’ Now she was being economical with the truth.
Arnold had come to join them. ‘Still no sign then?’
Roger shook his head. ‘I think we should start working our way back to the lane,’ he said. ‘It’s the only area we haven’t looked at and perhaps if something frightened her, she may have thought she could make her own way home.’
‘But if she was in the lane,’ Connie reasoned, ‘she would have had to walk right past the meadow where we all were.’
‘True,’ said Roger, ‘but we are trying to get into the mind of a child here. I know it’s not logical but she may have been looking for houses, civilisation, or running blindly to reach her mother.’
‘It’s worth a try,’ said Arnold. ‘You two go to the right. I’ll cover the left side of the track.’
They turned back and began calling again, looking carefully through the trees for any sign of life. In the distance, Connie had spotted Stan running down the hill and her blood chilled. She recalled another man running towards the road the day she and the family were on the downs and that other little girl got lost. It was the same gait. She stopped walking and froze. Oh God … oh God … she thought as she turned to see where Roger and Arnold were. Her gaze went to the ground and she suddenly cried out. The two men came running. From where she was standing she could see that the grass in a small clearing was trampled down. In the centre of the area, there was a bright red stain.
‘What is it?’ said Roger.
Connie pointed and Roger bent down. He touched it with his fingers and bringing it to his nose, he sniffed. ‘Definitely blood,’ he said gravely and Connie took in her breath.
The search had now taken on a new sense of urgency. If Mandy had lost this much blood, what could have happened? Had she been attacked by someone or something? Had she fallen or got a nosebleed? Whatever the reason, surely she would have run towards the meadow and help. Connie’s mind was racing ahead of all that. Supposing she was unable to run and get help? Supposing someone had stopped her. It was Stan Saul, wasn’t it! She shuddered. Why else was he running away if he had nothing to do with this? She could feel herself beginning to panic. Where was her little sister? She called desperately. ‘Mandy, where are you?’
Then Arnold found more blood. ‘Whoever was bleeding was going in this direction,’ he said.
Connie kept close to Roger and together they stepped over brambles and fallen branches following the trail of blood.
All at once Connie looked up and saw a dog lying on the ground. She could see at once that it was Pip. He was lying beside what looked like a fox’s earth. She called his name and he tried to lift his head but flopped back down again. She ran as fast as she could and threw herself on the ground beside him. As he looked up at her there was no mistaking the adoration in his eyes and he managed to make his tail give a couple of painful and exhausted wags. He had been horribly injured. His side was torn and bleeding and his mouth was badly cut. She could see he was missing several teeth as well. Connie burst into tears. ‘Oh, Pip. Pip, what happened?’ She looked helplessly at Roger. ‘What was he doing here? He’s an intelligent dog. He would have known to drag himself along the path if he needed help. Why come right down here in the thicket?’
They looked at each other, no one daring to actually say what they feared the most. Connie leapt to her feet. ‘Mandy,’ she screamed. ‘Mandy, where are you? Mandy?’
They waited a couple of minutes, hopes rising once again but all they heard was the sound of the wind sighing through the trees. ‘Mandy …’ It was hopeless.
‘Connie,’ Roger began cautiously. ‘Is it possible the dog attacked Mandy?’
Connie’s eyes grew wide. ‘Never in a million years. He adored her. If anything, he would have risked his life to save her.’
They stared at each other as the full import of what she had said dawned on them both.
‘What do you want us to do?’ said Roger. They were all on the horns of a dilemma. The dog needed the help of a vet, but Mandy couldn’t be forgotten. Connie put her hands on either side of her head and tugged at her hair in desperation.
‘I think we’d better get the dog to a vet straight away,’ said Arnold, taking his coat off. He laid the coat on the ground and then he and Roger gently lifted Pip onto it. As they lifted him, the dog whimpered and yelped in pain.
‘Get him to my car,’ said Roger. ‘We’ll drive him there as soon as we can.’
They hurried towards the lane again, with Connie running behind them.
‘Connie, we’ve got to get more help,’ said Roger. ‘We need others to help us cover the ground. We could be searching for a month of Sundays if we try to do it on our own.’
They’d reached the car. Connie fondled the dog’s ears and kissed his muzzle. ‘Thank you for trying,’ she said, her voice strangled by a terrible sense of loss and anguish. ‘I love you.’ She felt his body quiver as he tried to lift his head and lick her face. The two men laid him on the back seat. ‘I’ll find her,’ Connie promised and Pip managed one last wag of his tail.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Roger asked. ‘I could take the dog to the vet, then go back to the village for some more bodies, or we leave the dog here to take his chances.’
‘Go,’ said Connie. ‘You’re right. We need help.’
‘Coming?’ asked Roger as he sat in the driver’s seat.
Connie shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘She’s in there somewhere and I’ve got to
find her.’
Roger got out of the car again. ‘Do you drive?’ he asked Arnold.
Arnold nodded. ‘But not since I left the army two years ago.’
Roger tossed him the keys. ‘That’s good enough for me,’ he said. ‘I don’t know the area so without someone to guide me it would take an age to find a vet.’
‘Tell Jane where I’ve gone,’ said Arnold, climbing in the driver’s seat.
Roger watched Arnold reverse flawlessly and drive back down the hill. He was just about to walk back up the hill when he saw a coach coming up the hill and then he heard a chatter of excited voices as a crocodile of tired but happy children and their helpers came out of the meadow.
Connie drew Jane to one side and told her what had happened. ‘We’ll be back as soon as possible,’ Jane reassured Connie and Roger.
‘Bring as much help as you can,’ said Roger. ‘And we’ll need torches too. It’ll be getting dark soon.’
Connie walked away and back up the hill, calling her sister’s name again. Pip must have been trying to protect Mandy. What other reason could there be? She remembered how he had taken off like a rocket almost as soon as they’d got out of the car. When she and Roger heard the delighted screams of the children, Pip must have heard something quite different. One of those screams had been a real scream. She thought about the relationship he had with Mandy. They really loved each other and the dog must have realised Mandy was in danger. So what had stopped him in his tracks? The dog couldn’t have been knocked down by a car. The lane was too narrow and the ground too soft for vehicles. What about some sort of farm vehicle? There was a field almost ready for harvesting above them, but surely a farmer would have stopped to check if he’d hit an animal. There was only one other answer. Pip was deliberately attacked. Connie frowned as she tried to imagine what sort of an animal it could have been. Pip was fearless and there was no doubt that he would risk his very life for someone he loved, but what sort of animal knocks out teeth? A man with a stick, perhaps …
As Roger joined her, she said nothing. She couldn’t bear to voice the things she feared the most, that Stan Saul had attacked her dog and done something awful to her sister. She had to find Mandy at all costs.
When the parents met the coach, Jane explained that although everyone else had come home safely, Mandy was missing. Gwen ran all the way home and Clifford shut the nurseries, got the car out and they came straight up the hill. Once they arrived, the locals on the hill were involved but there was little time for formal introductions. They all wanted to get on with the job of finding Mandy.
Connie and Roger took her mother and Clifford back to the place where they’d found Pip. ‘I’m sure he was trying to get to her,’ said Connie. ‘You know how devoted he is to her. She has to be around here somewhere but I’ve called and called and there’s no answer.’
Clifford took charge and they started a much more methodical search but after half an hour they had still drawn a blank. As the group came together again, they could hear more voices. Clifford made his way back to the path and found a whole crowd of people walking towards them. Mrs Bawden their next-door neighbour, the Frenchie, Isaac Light, Rev Jackson and Jane, Mr Stevens and Mr Luxton and a whole lot more friends and neighbours.
Connie felt a tear come to her eye. ‘How did you all get here?’ she gasped.
‘We persuaded the coach driver to bring us back,’ said Rev Jackson. ‘Now where do we start?’
Roger explained where they had already looked and the area not yet fully covered. As soon as Connie noticed Eugène, her heart leapt. His eye met hers and she mouthed a silent ‘thank you’. Before long the wood was ringing with people calling for Mandy. They walked beside ditches and lifted bramble patches. They prodded layers of leaf mould with long sticks and stared into rabbit holes and badger sets. Just when it all seemed utterly hopeless Connie heard Isaac shouting, ‘Over here, over here.’
Everyone ran to the spot. Caught on a thick bramble they saw a red ribbon. Gwen reached out and grasped it as the tears sprang into her eyes. Now everyone was talking. Connie waved her arms to try and get some quiet but it took Roger’s authoritative voice to get the silence they needed.
Connie nodded towards her mother and Gwen took a deep breath.
‘Mandy,’ she called. ‘It’s Mummy. Are you there, darling?’
Everyone held their breath then from somewhere deep below the earth, they heard a child’s cry.
Twenty-Eight
They had no tools and she was obviously deep underground.
‘How the hell did she get down there?’ someone said.
‘We should all move back,’ said Roger, looking around. ‘There’s too many of us and this ground is very unstable.’
‘I’ll go down the hill and see if we can borrow some spades,’ said Eugène and several of the men took off with him.
Connie and her mother felt a mixture of relief and panic. It was wonderful that they had located Mandy at last and that she was obviously alive, but how far had she fallen and how on earth were they going to get her out? Looking up, Connie could see that the tree canopy had once been shattered by something and Roger was right, the ground beneath their feet was very unstable.
The area was now largely neglected although during the war it had been the site of one of the many RAF wireless and Radio Location stations. It was within sight of another station on Highdown, a couple of miles away, as the crow flies, and they had helped the British forces keep a tab on enemy aircraft flying to and fro on air raids on London as part of the Ground Control Interception. Although there were plenty of bomb craters, High Salvington’s greatest claim to fame was being the crash site of an enemy Heinkel 111 in August 1940. Back then, a crowd almost as large as the one on the hill now had gathered to see it.
The spades arrived and Roger began to organise a working party. Somebody had had the foresight to bring a wheelbarrow, which would make it easier to transport the dug soil away from the site. Tackling it from above increased the risk that the earth on top of her would simply collapse. They couldn’t see her but they could hear her muffled cries. Clearly she was able to breathe without too much problem. It appeared that she had slipped down at an angle and gone under the damaged roots of a tree which leaned downhill at a crazy angle.
‘I believe she’s wedged in there by her shoulders,’ said Roger. ‘I have no idea how deep the hole is and I don’t want to risk her falling even further.’
It was decided that they should dig alongside the opening rather than above it. That way they hoped to be able to persuade Mandy to crawl her way out without too much soil falling on top of her.
Eugène slipped unnoticed beside Connie. ‘We will get her out,’ he promised. As she turned to look at him, she was filled with a longing to feel his strong arms around her. He looked better. The dark rings had gone from under his eyes and his complexion seemed a lot healthier than when she last saw him. ‘Did you go to see Kez?’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘I did. Thank you, Connie. You are a true friend.’
Roger moved closer and interrupted them. ‘Let’s start getting the earth away from here,’ he told the Frenchie. ‘You can wheel it up over the ridge.’
‘No problem,’ smiled Eugène, taking off his jacket. Connie almost reached out to touch him but changed her move into a folding of her arms.
‘I’ll try and find another strong looking fellow to help you and you can do shifts,’ said Roger glancing first at the Frenchie and then at Connie.
‘That’ll be me,’ said Isaac, taking his shirt off as well.
Connie choked up. Roger gave her a quick side hug. ‘You’d better brace yourself, darling. This is going to be a long, hard job.’ And she saw Eugène look away.
The hill quickly became a hive of activity. Women living nearby had turned up with flasks of tea and later on, some sandwiches. Every now and then, Roger called for them to stop working so that Gwen could have the opportunity to call out to Mandy and reassure her that they
were doing everything possible to help her. What they didn’t tell her was that because of the unstable ground, this was getting more difficult by the minute. It wasn’t just the moving hillock they had to contend with, they also had problems with the thick brambles and undergrowth which had to be cleared away before they could even get a spade into the earth.
As the evening wore on, the word had got around and a tidy crowd of would-be helpers gathered in the lane and PC Noble turned up on his bicycle. Connie was glad that they still had double summer time. 1945 was supposed to be the last time it was used but in view of the terrible food shortages in the country, the government had decreed to reinstate it in 1947 giving more hours of daylight to enable farmers to keep up the good work. The clocks would go back one hour on 10 August and then the final hour would be on 12 November.
Later on, someone put a blanket on Connie’s shoulders and as she pulled it around her, she realised for the first time how terribly cold she was. She had no cardigan and her arms were bare. Eugène and Isaac who had stripped down to their vests, glistened with sweat and the dirt on their bodies made them look like a couple of miners. As the gloom turned towards dusk, the first of the oil lanterns was lit and a hurricane lamp hissed nearby. The first group of men were beginning to get tired, so a shift pattern was adopted and slowly but surely they were making progress. They shored up the sides as they went and once they were actually tunnelling, they had to shore up the overhang too.
Roger was a careful overseer, checking everything thoroughly as they went. ‘No slacking,’ he told Eugène who had stopped to wind a handkerchief around his blistered hands.
‘Roger!’ Connie exclaimed. ‘He’s doing his best.’
‘It’s important to keep up the momentum,’ said Roger, unrepentant. ‘We can’t afford passengers.’
Eugène was about to react but Isaac tugged on his arm and the two men carried on.
Everything was going so well until someone’s spade hit something metal.
‘What the hell was that?’
Rev Jackson looked around wildly. ‘Didn’t they have guns up here during the war?’