by Nicola Upson
As if on cue, she heard Edwards’s footsteps on the stairs, disturbing her peace. The girl knocked loudly when she got to the nursery, waking Lizzie, and, when she put her head round the door, she looked flushed and excited. ‘There’s a policeman downstairs, Ma’am—says he wants to talk to you. I asked him what it was about, but he wouldn’t say.’
Suddenly, Amelia found it difficult to breathe. ‘I didn’t hear anyone,’ she said defensively, as if this could somehow refute the truth of what Edwards was telling her. In her arms, Lizzie started to cry and Amelia realised that she had been gripping her daughter’s hand so tightly that she had hurt her. She kissed her and wiped her eyes, then lifted her gently on to the bed. ‘Look after her,’ she snapped at Edwards. ‘I won’t be long. Is Mr Sach home yet?’
‘No, ma’am, not yet.’
That was something, at least, Amelia thought as she hurried downstairs. With a bit of luck, she could clear this up before Jacob got in and he need never know about it. She had expected a uniform, but the man who stood in her parlour wore an ordinary brown suit. He hovered awkwardly in front of the fireplace, turning a bowler hat round in his hands; she smiled confidently at him when she detected his unease, but any illusions she held about having the advantage were dispelled as soon as he opened his mouth. ‘Mrs Amelia Sach?’ he asked, and she nodded. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Kyd from the Metropolitan Police. I’m afraid I have to inform you that we arrested a woman earlier today on suspicion of the murder of a baby boy. The woman was caught with the child’s body in her possession, and we have reason to believe that he was born in this establishment. What is your connection with a Mrs Annie Walters of Danbury Street, Islington?’
Amelia could have laughed with relief. If Walters had been caught with a baby today, it couldn’t possibly be one of hers: the child who had left her care on Saturday would be long gone by now. Walters must have let her greed get the better of her and started working for someone else as well—she had long suspected as much; there was no shortage of opportunities. ‘I don’t know anyone by that name,’ she said boldly, buoyed up by the knowledge that it was another woman’s luck which had run out today. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.’
The inspector was not so easily deterred. ‘Mrs Walters says you employ her, Madam.’
‘Then Mrs Walters is lying. I’m a nurse and a qualified midwife, Inspector. I take in ladies to be confined. They receive the very best of care while they’re here, and I assure you that when babies leave these premises, they are most certainly alive and well.’
He smiled, and, for the first time, there was something in his expression which made Amelia afraid. ‘I wasn’t suggesting otherwise, Madam, but if I could just refresh your memory a little—Mrs Walters is in her mid-fifties, sturdily built …’
Amelia interrupted him. ‘I don’t know her, Inspector, and I certainly haven’t given her any babies, if that’s what you’re implying. I have a reputation to maintain and I’m very careful about who I invite to work here.’
‘So, to your knowledge, Mrs Walters has never been here?’ She shook her head. ‘Funny that—she’s given me a very fair description of this room, but no matter. I believe a baby boy was born here on Saturday?’
‘That’s right. Dr Wylie attended the birth, as there were a number of complications. I’m sure he’ll confirm that.’
‘I don’t doubt it, Madam. The mother and child—where are they now?’
‘They’re upstairs, Inspector,’ Amelia said, her voice faltering a little.
‘I’d like to see that child, Ma’am, if you don’t mind.’
‘I’m afraid the mother is far too ill for social calls. As I said, it was a difficult birth and they’re both still very weak. I can’t possibly allow anyone to disturb them.’
She had known as soon as the words were out that aggression was the wrong line to take. When Inspector Kyd spoke again, his voice had lost any trace of courtesy. ‘I will see that child, Ma’am, whether you like it or not, and if you won’t take me up there yourself, then I’m afraid I have no choice but to summon Dr Wylie and ask him to call on the mother and her baby. You can surely have no objection to a medical man looking in on them?’
Amelia said nothing as he left the room and opened the front door. She heard the sound of voices outside and went to the window to see what was happening. To her horror, she saw the inspector in the small front garden, talking to two uniformed police constables who must have been standing outside all the time. As she watched, one of them turned and hurried out to the street; the other came back into the house with his superior, and the three of them stood in silence in the parlour. Desperately, Amelia ran through a series of stories in her head; Dr Wylie only lived round the corner, and she didn’t have long to come up with an explanation for the missing child. Why hadn’t she done something about Walters sooner? She had known the woman was a liability and was furious with herself for allowing it to come to this; clearly Walters had told the police all about her, and now she would have to admit to their association and try to find some innocent explanation for it. After what seemed like only seconds, she heard the click of the front gate again; the policeman was back with Dr Wylie, and she was shocked to see that her husband was with them.
‘What’s all this about, Amelia?’ Jacob asked as soon as he entered the room, but Kyd gave her no opportunity to answer.
‘Mrs Sach, please take Dr Wylie here up to the woman’s room,’ he said, and then, turning to Wylie, ‘I just need to know if the baby is safe and well, Sir.’
The doctor stared uncomfortably at Amelia and, as he turned to leave the room, she could bear it no longer. ‘There’s no need,’ she whispered, so quietly that she could hardly hear the words herself.
‘Sorry, Madam—what did you say?’ Kyd asked.
‘There’s no need to go upstairs. The baby isn’t there. It’s been taken away. But it can’t be the same child,’ she cried, looking pleadingly at her husband. ‘It just can’t be.’ She repeated the words again, trying to clear up the confusion in her own mind. The baby had left the house on Saturday evening—she could never bear to have a child in the house for long after its birth—and now it was Tuesday; why would Walters have kept it for three days, rather than getting rid of it at the earliest possible opportunity? What was the woman thinking of? ‘Whatever child you’ve found,’ she said at last, ‘it isn’t the boy who was born here on Saturday.’
Inspector Kyd nodded at the constable, who handed over a child’s robe. ‘Do you recognise this?’ Kyd asked. It was a simple garment, probably one of hundreds, and Amelia shook her head. ‘That’s strange,’ he continued, unfolding the robe and holding it out towards her, ‘because Mrs Robertson from the laundry on Marine Parade says that this is your mark.’ He pushed it closer to her, but Amelia refused to look; for the first time, she began to understand the enormity of what faced her. Obviously, she had already been the subject of gossip and speculation in Finchley, and it would only take one person in Hertford Road to notice the police at her door for the news to spread the length of the street; even if she talked her way out of trouble this time, she would never escape from the shame of what was happening to her, and how would that affect Lizzie? What would it do to her marriage? ‘Do you admit that F236 is your laundry mark?’ the inspector repeated impatiently. Helpless to do anything else, she nodded.
‘Dr Wylie, did you attend a birth at Claymore House on Saturday?’
‘Yes, I did—a young woman called Ada Galley had gone into labour in the early hours of Friday morning. When there was still no sign of the baby on Saturday, Mrs Sach called me in. Eventually, the child was born at around midday on Saturday, but it needed a lot of help. I had no choice but to use forceps.’
‘And would that have resulted in any injuries to the baby’s head?’ Kyd asked. Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia noticed Jacob cover his face with his hands.
‘It’s likely that some bruising would develop,’ Wylie admitted.
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��But otherwise, the baby was healthy?’
‘Oh yes, he was a bonny lad.’
‘And did you come back here again to see the mother and child?’
‘Yes.’ The doctor glanced at Amelia. ‘I came back on Sunday to check on them both, but the child was missing. I asked how he was, and Mrs Sach told me that he was well but that the mother’s sister had taken him back to Holloway with her.’
‘And you didn’t think anything of that?’
‘No, not really. I just assumed that the sister was helping out to give the mother some time to recover.’
‘I see. Has anything like that ever happened here before, Sir?’
He hesitated. ‘Yes—last month, in fact. That time, Mrs Sach told me that the baby’s grandmother had taken the child.’
‘Are you asked to come here very often, Sir?’
‘I suppose I’ve been about a dozen times in total.’
‘And of those dozen, how many times would you say that the baby has been missing when you came back to check on the patient?’
‘Only those two, Inspector.’
‘But there are births that you’re not asked to attend?’
‘That’s right. Mrs Sach is a perfectly competent midwife.’
‘Have any other children been born here recently, Mrs Sach?’
‘Another lady had a child on Wednesday—a baby girl.’
‘And was that child removed from these premises without its mother?’
Four pairs of eyes tore accusingly into Amelia, and she looked round desperately at each one of them. ‘Surely you don’t think …’
But the rest of her sentence was lost as the charge was spelt out to her. ‘Amelia Sach, I’m arresting you on suspicion of being an accessory to murder.’
‘Murder? No! That’s not possible. You’re not really saying that these babies are dead? That this woman has killed them?’
‘You’ll be taken to King’s Cross Road Police Station, where you will be remanded in custody for further questioning.’
‘Jacob—please!’ she screamed. ‘What about Lizzie? Tell them this is ridiculous. Tell them I knew nothing about it.’ The policeman took her arm and she shook him off, but he seized her again, more roughly this time, and led her out to the waiting vehicle. A small crowd had gathered further down the street, and she was almost relieved when the doors closed on her. As it pulled away, she glanced back at the house, stricken with fear at the thought that she might never see her home, her daughter, again; Jacob stared back at her from the front-room window, his face blank and emotionless. She bowed her head in shame. They turned left out of Hertford Road, and the story she had just read to Lizzie echoed again and again in her mind: ‘ “I’ll be judge, I’ll be jury,” said cunning old Fury; “I’ll try the whole cause and condemn you to death.” ’
John Kyd watched his colleagues take Sach away, and spoke quietly to her husband. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to search the house now, Sir. If you wouldn’t mind waiting here until we’ve finished—we’ll be as quick as we can.’
For a moment, he thought the man hadn’t been listening because he neither spoke nor altered his expression, but then he said: ‘Can I fetch my daughter down from upstairs? She’ll be in the nursery with Nora—it’s at the top of the house.’
‘Yes, Sir, of course. If you could all wait together, that would be best. I’m going to have a word with your wife’s patient now—Dr Wylie, perhaps you’d come with me?’ The doctor seemed relieved to have a purpose, and followed Kyd out of the room without a moment’s hesitation.
There was only one closed door on the first-floor landing, and Kyd guessed correctly that this must be the room in which Sach’s unfortunate patient was resting, oblivious to the fate of her child. He knocked gently and went straight in, and was surprised to find a pleasant space, warm and comfortable and showing all the signs of good, attentive care. It was stupid of him to have expected anything else, he thought bitterly; Sach’s business relied on respectability, and God knows these women had paid dearly enough for their nursing.
The girl lay back on her pillows, pale and obviously still tired, but attractive nonetheless. She must be about eighteen, he guessed, and—perhaps simply because of what he knew he sensed a vulnerability about her which struck him all the more forcefully for coming so soon after Sach’s cold self-assurance. ‘Miss Galley?’ he asked, and she nodded, looking curiously first at him and then at the doctor. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Kyd. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to ask you some questions about the birth of your baby and your time here at Claymore House. Would you mind telling me when you last saw your child?’
‘It must have been on Saturday,’ she said, and he noticed that her accent was not from the city; Wiltshire, he guessed, or Dorset. ‘About an hour after he was born, I suppose. I wasn’t really well enough to remember much of what was happening, but Mrs Sach brought him in so that I could have a look at him. Then she told me to kiss him goodbye.’
‘So you were aware that your child was going to be removed from the premises.’
‘Yes. Mrs Sach had found him a new home. She told me that she had five ladies who couldn’t have children of their own and who wanted to adopt—the child would be well looked after, she said, and would be left a lot of money eventually. I hope she’s not in trouble for that,’ she added, looking at the grave expression on the inspector’s face. ‘She didn’t force me into anything. I’m on my own, and I need to earn a living—how could I do that with a child in tow? We’d both be dead or in the workhouse. It was for the best, really it was.’
‘Did Mrs Sach tell you the name of the woman who was to adopt your baby?’
‘No. She said it was best that I didn’t know. The mother wouldn’t like it in case I changed my mind and wanted the baby back.’
‘And how long have you been here?’
‘Since September. I saw Mrs Sach’s advertisement in the newspaper in August, and she took me in a month later.’
‘And you paid her money?’
‘Yes. Three guineas when I got here, then a guinea a week after that.’
‘And what about the adoption?’
‘She told me I’d have to give the new mother thirty pounds.’
‘Even though this woman was wealthy herself?’
‘Yes. Mrs Sach said she wanted to buy a present for the baby to remember its mother by. Thirty pounds was more than I could afford, though, so she said she’d write to the lady to see if she’d accept twenty-five—and she said she would.’
A present to remember its mother by—Kyd could hardly keep the disgust out of his voice when he continued his questioning. ‘Twenty-five pounds still seems a lot of money for a young woman to find.’
She looked down, ashamed. ‘I had to go to the baby’s father,’ she admitted. ‘His family didn’t want a scandal, so they paid up. Am I in trouble? I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong—honestly I didn’t.’
‘No, you’re not in trouble,’ Kyd said reassuringly.
‘Then what’s happened?’ she asked, beginning to cry now. ‘Why do you want to know about my baby?’
Kyd looked at the doctor, who shook his head. ‘Miss Galley needs to rest now,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay with her for a bit and make sure she has something to help her sleep.’
The inspector stood up to go. The image of Ada Galley’s dead son had been with him all day, refusing to go away no matter how hard he tried to expel it from his mind. There would be a time when he would have to explain to this girl what had happened to her baby, but not before he had more answers and certainly not while she was still living under Sach’s roof. He opened the door to go back downstairs, but found Jacob Sach outside on the landing, a child of about three or four in his arms. He had obviously been listening—there were tears on his face which he did not bother to wipe away—but what struck Kyd most was how like her mother Lizzie Sach was; for her sake, he prayed that the resemblance was purely physical. ‘Please go downstairs, Sir,’ he sa
id. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
It would take several hours to search the house thoroughly but, by the time Kyd joined Jacob Sach downstairs, he had seen enough to gauge the extent of his wife’s business. His officers had found more than three hundred items of baby clothing in the house so far, presumably made by mothers who had no idea of how briefly they would be needed. Kyd found what was left of the family in the kitchen: Sach was sitting at the table, hunched over an untouched cup of tea, while a dark-haired young woman sat on the floor with two children, one only a toddler, trying and failing to keep them amused. As soon as she saw him, the woman stood up to go, but he held up his hand to stop her. ‘Miss …?’
‘Edwards. Nora Edwards.’
‘And you work for Mr and Mrs Sach?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Miss Edwards—may I ask how long you’ve been here?’
‘Since July last year—well, not here, but with Mrs Sach. She was in Stanley Road then.’
‘And you moved here with her?’
‘With the family, yes.’
She seemed guarded in her answers, and he wondered exactly how much she knew. It was difficult to believe that she could have lived in the Sach household for more than a year and remained ignorant of its comings and goings. ‘Did you answer an advertisement for a job?’
‘No, not for a job.’
‘Then for what?’
‘I went to her to have my baby.’ She gestured to the younger of the two girls.
‘And your child was born in Mrs Sach’s care?’
‘Yes. She looked after me herself. Sally was born last September.’