The House on Candlewick Lane

by Amy M. Reade

  My mother was probably wondering what to do with herself in Edinburgh. I knew she was feeling as helpless as I was and wanted to help somehow. I knocked on her door when I got back to the inn and told her of my plan to make a list of Neill’s university colleagues.

  “I’ve thought of something you can do to help me,” I said. “Come to my room and get on my laptop, will you? I’d like you to read me the names of everyone in the department of English literature at the university.”

  She was eager to lend a hand. She read the name of each member of the academic staff, the administrative staff, the honorary fellows, and even the tutors. Whenever she read a name I recognized, I wrote it down. I had a list a few pages long by the time we had completed the research.

  “I am going to start calling each of these people tomorrow,” I told her, looking at my watch. “I’m sure most of them have gone home for the day by now.”

  Armed with a plan, I felt a bit better. I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. I was sure the police didn’t want me interfering, but I was determined to do whatever I could to find Ellie. I joined my mother for dinner that evening and ate more than I expected to.

  As we were finishing dinner, Sylvie walked into the dining room. She greeted me with a long hug and wiped her eyes with her coat sleeve as she sat down at our table. As ambivalent as I had been about her coming to Edinburgh, I felt a surprising sense of relief that she was here. She ordered dessert and asked a thousand questions, most of which I couldn’t answer. She wanted to know why Neill took Ellie, where I thought they had gone, why he left the United States to come to Edinburgh, and on and on. I wanted answers to all those questions, too.

  Physically, Sylvie was practically my double—tall, with shoulder-length brown hair and big brown eyes. We had both been blessed with flawless skin from our mother’s side of the family. People often mistook us for twins, though I was fourteen months older.

  Sylvie would be sharing my room in the inn. We talked about my plans for the next day as we got ready for an early bedtime. Her job was to set up appointments for me to see some of the people on my list, the ones who weren’t in their offices.

  I slept better than I thought I would, probably because I was exhausted from the tension of the past two days. I awoke to a rainy day, so typical of the Edinburgh I remembered and loved. I watched wistfully out my window as people hurried by on the street below—tourists with backpacks slung under their ponchos, locals with Wellies and rain hats, and smartly dressed people going to work, juggling umbrellas and briefcases. Though I knew differently, it seemed that none of them had a care in the world except to get to their destination and out of the rain. I was pretty sure none of them was walking around in search of a missing child. Not surprisingly, Sylvie was still sleeping.

  But I needed to stay focused. This was the day I was going to start taking concrete steps to find Ellie. I hurriedly dressed in a pantsuit, slipped into a pair of high heels, grabbed a neck scarf, and headed down to breakfast. My mother was already in the dining room. I ate a tattie scone, half a broiled tomato, and a handful of sautéed mushrooms. It was more than I usually ate for breakfast, but being back in Scotland made me nostalgic—and hungry. Mum and I planned what we would do that day. She would stay at the inn and wait for any word of Ellie or Neill, just in case the police came looking for me. I would go to the university. When Sylvie decided to get up, I would provide her with a list of the people not in their offices. She would call and make appointments for the next day or two. I hoped such appointments would be unnecessary, that I would have Ellie back with me by then, but I needed to have them set up just in case.

  But my hope waned after a fruitless day of knocking on doors and finding no one who knew Neill was in Edinburgh. A second day of the same agenda yielded the same results. And Sylvie found it difficult making appointments with faculty members since no one knew who I was and I didn’t have an academic interest in speaking to them. The first appointment she was able to make wasn’t for another week.

  And after two days Mum had nothing to report, either. No one had called—no police, no airport security, no customs.

  Before dinner the second day I took a taxi to the airport. I thought they might pay more attention to me if I showed up in person. When I got there, I was lucky to be able to speak with two of the people who had helped me the day I arrived in Edinburgh to find Neill and Ellie gone. They had had no luck, they told me, in obtaining any other information about the taxi that took Neill and Ellie away from the airport. They didn’t even know the name of the taxi company. They had been able to figure out how Neill had managed to elude customs officials before leaving the airport; the police had detained an airport employee for leading Neill and Ellie through restricted areas to avoid the authorities. Apparently Neill had paid the man a large sum of money to help them escape. The man had no other information—Neill hadn’t told him where they were going or why they were in Edinburgh.

  I returned to the inn discouraged and upset. Mum and Sylvie were in the dining room. Mum and I picked at our dinners while Sylvie ate heartily. After dinner, Sylvie went to my mother’s room. I sat in my own room scanning newspapers for any mention of a man and a child but, as I suspected, there was nothing. My mobile phone rang as I closed my third paper with a sigh.

  “Hello?”

  “Hullo, Greer? This is James. James from the plane. I was calling to see if there’s any good news.”

  “Oh, James. It’s nice of you to call. Unfortunately, there’s no good news to report. I’ve been scouring the English literature department at the university to see if any of the faculty or staff have been in touch with Neill. He’s still employed by the university even though he’s been in the United States for several years. But no one knew anything. The only thing they’ve been able to figure out at the airport is how Neill and Ellie left without going through customs. It was easy enough—Neill bribed an airport employee.”

  “You sound rather done in. I’m going out for a dram after work. Care to join me?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet anyone for anything, but it sounded better than lying wide awake in bed, which had been my plan. So I agreed to meet him. When he learned where I was staying, he offered to meet me at the pub next door, since the museum where he worked wasn’t far away.

  We met in the pub a bit later. I was seated at a comfortable booth waiting for him when he arrived. I watched as he carefully shook the water from his Burberry coat and matching umbrella and hung them on a rack near the front door. He smiled when he saw me and made his way over.

  “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?” he asked with a laugh. I gestured to the seat across from me.

  “Sit down and warm up a bit,” I told him.

  “I will. I’ll get our drinks first. What would you like?”

  “A Balvenie 12 with a splash of water, please.”

  He looked at me with appreciation. “A woman who knows her whisky. I should have known that when I saw you on the airplane.” He smiled and went over to the bar, then returned a few moments later with two glasses of amber liquid. He handed me one and slid into the booth opposite me.

  “To Ellie,” he said, lightly clinking his glass against mine.

  “To Ellie.” I took a tiny sip, savoring the warmth as it slid down the back of my throat, over the lump that had formed at the mention of her name.

  “So tell me what’s been happening,” he said.

  I related all the events since getting off the plane at the Edinburgh airport, ending with my unsuccessful foray onto the campus of the university to visit Neill’s colleagues. “I have a few appointments next week,” I told James. “Hopefully I can glean some useful information from one of those.”

  “Do you think there’s anything I can do to help?”

  “Not unless you know any faculty members at the university who knew Neill.”

  “Who’ve you spoken to so far?”

  I pulled out my now-tattered
list of faculty, staff, tutors, and fellows and showed it to him.

  “You know, I deal a wee bit with members of the faculty for my job. I mostly speak with people in the art history department, but I have heard of a few of these people,” he said. “I recognize a couple names because they teach classes that cross over between the two areas of study—literature and art.” He took a pen from his breast pocket and checked two names. “Have you spoken to these people yet?”

  I shook my head. “They’re on the list for tomorrow. It seems some professors and faculty members don’t take kindly to being approached by an outsider with questions of a personal nature.” I smiled wryly.

  “Before you go over, let me give them a call tomorrow and smooth the way for you. I know they’ll be willing to meet with you if I talk to them first. I’ll let you know when I’ve reached them.”

  “Would you do that?” I asked in surprise.

  “Of course. I told you I’d do what I can to help you.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  He knocked back the last of his drink. “Can I get you another?”

  “Sure.”

  We sipped our whiskies over a discussion of his job—how he went about procuring artwork for the Artists’ Museum, how the staff decided which works to display and where to display them, and how his museum got its funding. It sounded fascinating.

  “When you find Ellie, you’ll have to come over for a look.”

  “We certainly will do that. It’s been so long since I was there last. Can we get a private tour?”

  “I would be honored.”

  We talked for a bit longer while James ordered a dinner of beef stew. The steam rose from his bowl, and the smell reminded me of Scottish winters, chilly and rainy. If only Ellie were back at the inn waiting for me, this would have been a comfortable, relaxing evening.

  After James had finished his meal, I told him I needed to get back to the inn, where my mother and sister were probably wondering what had become of me. I hated to leave the cocoon of warmth and peace in the pub, the fire crackling in the hearth, and the low buzz of conversation all around us, but I had to get back to real life. The temporary break had been good for me. James walked me to the door, holding his umbrella over my head. “Would you like to get together for dinner later in the week?” he asked.

  I thought a moment before answering. “I’d like to, but I can’t make any plans because I don’t know what might happen with Ellie and Neill. You’re welcome to call me any evening and I’ll let you know if anything has changed.”

  He seemed satisfied with my answer and bid me good night before hurrying up the street in the lamp-lit rainy darkness.

  On my way back to the inn, I got a phone call from my department chair back in the States. He was wondering where I was and when I would be returning to school. I told him about Neill and Ellie, and we discussed possible solutions to the problem of my students having no professor for the rest of the semester if I had to stay in Edinburgh indefinitely. One option was to teach my classes remotely. It was a good idea, but I found myself leaning toward a different option—taking an emergency sabbatical, which would allow me the time I needed to find Ellie without having to worry about neglecting my classes. My boss said he would check with my colleagues in the art history department to see if they would be able to take over for me for the remainder of the semester, but he was quite sure they would be able to help out until I was able to return to campus.

  When I rang off, I had a plan. My boss promised to keep me in the loop about my classes and other important events in the department, but otherwise told me he wouldn’t bother me about work. I was free to use the emergency sabbatical as I wished.

  And I wished to find my daughter.

  I returned to the inn with a new optimism. I hadn’t realized how much my work had been nagging my subconscious, and I felt a little lighter with the knowledge that I was free to spend my time looking for Ellie without having to worry about my students and my job responsibilities.

  As it turned out, I had been right about my mother and Sylvie wondering where I was. They were frantic. And angry.

  “Where have you been?” Mum demanded when I went into her room.

  “Yeah!” Sylvie echoed.

  “I’m sorry. I went out for a bit,” I answered. “I had my mobile—you could have called me.”

  “I did,” Mum seethed. “I got your voicemail.”

  I checked my phone. Dead. I would have to be careful not to let that happen again. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I had no idea my phone was dead. Is anything wrong? Have you heard something?” My voice was rising.

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Mum answered. “We were just worried about you, that’s all. Didn’t know where you had gone. Tell someone next time, would you?”

  “Yes,” I replied sheepishly. It was foolish of me to have gone to meet James at the pub, even if I had needed a bit of time away from the inn.

  I apologized again and returned to my room with Sylvie. She had news, though not news of Ellie and Neill.

  “Seamus is coming for a visit,” she said as we got ready for bed.

  “Who’s Seamus?” I asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

  “My boyfriend,” she answered with a grin.

  “He can’t stay here,” I pointed out.

  “Why not?”

  How callous. How typical of her. “What do you mean ‘why not?’ This is the first I’ve even heard of him. I don’t want to sleep in the same room with a stranger.”

  She pouted. “But he’s great. You’ll love him, promise.”

  I glared at her. “Sylvie, no. He can get his own room if he wants, but I’m not paying for him to stay here.”

  “Oh, all right,” she whined. “I’ll tell him he has to get his own room and then I’ll stay with him.”

  “Whatever,” I said with a shake of my head. Just what I need right now. I’ll bet he’s as lazy and cheap as she is.

  We went to sleep without speaking to each other. I knew she was angry with me, but I wouldn’t back down. This wasn’t a holiday pleasure trip. We were in Edinburgh for a specific and very serious reason—finding Ellie. I didn’t care one wee bit about her boyfriend and thought she was unbelievably selfish for having the cheek to invite him.

  My phone woke me in the middle of the night. I had a text. Bleary-eyed, I fumbled for my glasses on the bedside table and heard them fall to the floor. I reached for the phone and held it just a couple inches from my eyes. It took me a minute to focus because of the bright light of the screen, then when my eyes were adjusted I saw it was a number I didn’t recognize.

  I opened the text and gasped.

  It’s neill. I know u r in edin. Go home.

  Where are you? I typed.

  Ellie and I in danger. Don’t lead them to us.

  Lead who?

  People after us. don’t have long

  Give me Ellie and we’ll leave.

  Can’t. they’ll find u.

  Who’s they?

  People

  What people?

  I o them money

  I didn’t know what to say next. I couldn’t think straight. Neill owed money? Again? And to whom?

  Why did you take Ellie?

  They’ll find her and take her

  A chill went up my spine. My fingers flew over the keyboard: Why?

  To make me pay. Go home.

  Tell me where you are and I’ll pick her up. I’ll bring the police.

  No answer. I resent the text.

  Tell me where you are and I’ll pick her up. I’ll bring the police.

  Again, no response. I was in a panic now. My worst fears had hit me right in the heart and my stomach dropped. Ellie was in trouble from someone I didn’t know. Strangers.

  When Neill and I divorced, I knew his gambling problem was becoming more serious. But the divorce decree had required Neill to go through therapy to address his problems a
s a condition of him seeing Ellie on weekends. He had provided the court with the proper paperwork stating he had completed the therapy, and I had assumed his gambling problems were a thing of the past, or at least well in control.

  I had obviously been wrong. I should have come right out and asked him about it, though I’m sure he would have lied to me. Now his gambling addiction had reared its ugly head again, and this time the stakes were higher than ever.

  This time the loan sharks wanted Ellie. This time they were going to teach Neill a lesson he would never forget.

  I couldn’t breathe. I kicked off the covers and bounded to my feet, stepping on my glasses. Thank goodness they didn’t break. All my movement woke Sylvie, who moaned and shifted in her bed. “Why all the noise, Greer?”

  “I got a text from Neill. He and Ellie are in danger. I’m going to call the police.”

  She snapped on the lamp next to her bed. “What did he say?”

  “That I am to go back home and he and Ellie are in danger.”

  “But why?”

  “He owes money to people who are looking for him. They’re threatening to take Ellie from him if he doesn’t pay.”

  “Why doesn’t he pay?”

  I was exasperated. “I’m sure he would if he had the money, Sylvie. I’m sure he doesn’t want this to be happening to Ellie.”

  “Why don’t you pay?”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but it wasn’t that simple. “He didn’t tell me how much he owes. I don’t know if I even have the money.”

  “Just ask him,” she suggested unhelpfully. I struggled to remember why my mother thought it so important that she be here in Edinburgh.

  “He stopped answering my texts. And I don’t know where he is. That’s why I’m going to the police,” I tried explaining patiently, pulling on a pair of trousers. “I’m going to find out if they can do something to find the mobile signal and locate him that way. I’ve heard of that being done.”