Hidden Currents

by Rowena Summers

  ‘I think a pair of vases would be nice, John,’ Carrie was saying, as they looked around one of the little antique shops. ‘They’re both keen on gardening, and they like to bring flowers into the house —’ she stopped abruptly.

  ‘What is it? I’m sorry if I wasn’t paying proper attention,’ John said. ‘A pair of vases sounds ideal. Have you seen something you like?’

  She wasn’t listening to him. All her attention was fixed on a group of objects at the back of the shelf. They were all lumped together as a job lot, with the legend ‘once belonging to a lady of note’ written alongside the box. There was a pair of jade ear-rings, an opal brooch and a silver cigarette box. There were several more small pieces in the collection, with the assumption that they had all come from the same source. Carrie seemed to have lost her voice for a moment, and merely pointed to the shelf as her thoughts whirled. John saw the objects and gave a derisive smile, not understanding her interest.

  “Belonging to a lady of note’ indeed. That’s just sales talk, Carrie, and I doubt that Vi or Oswald would be bothered about such trinkets.’

  She shook her head quickly. ‘It’s not that,’ she whispered urgently, as if there were ears listening at every corner. ‘I’m sure these are some of the things that were stolen from the Barclay house by that maid who was dismissed before me. You know how servants gossip, and long before I left the house Cook had a full list of the stolen items. I’m quite sure these were some of them, John!’

  They were so intent on looking at the contents of the box that they didn’t notice the proprietor come up behind them to see what was taking their interest, and sensing a sale.

  ‘Is there something I can show you, sir and madam? I think you will agree that I have a unique selection of fine objects —’ he began in an oily voice.

  ‘Those things in the box that once belonged to a lady of note,’ Carrie said, before she stopped to think. ‘Can you tell me something more about them, please?’

  The man gave a small frown. He was used to making a quick assessment of clients, and what they could afford to pay, and this girl didn’t look like a person of quality. Never in a month of wet Mondays could she pay any of the fancy prices he was putting on the jewellery and other fine pieces in the collection.

  ‘Those are very expensive items, madam,’ he said delicately. ‘Perhaps I could show you something of a less, well, flamboyant nature?’

  ‘If the lady wishes to know more about those particular items, then I’d be obliged if you’d be good enough to tell her, sir,’ John said with authority.

  ‘Of course, sir, and I assure you I meant to cause no offence,’ the man said, backing down at once. ‘If you’d care to come inside my office, I’ll look up the transaction in my record books. Many of my ladies are interested in knowing the origins of their purchases.’

  Carrie felt her heart thump as they followed him and were invited to sit down. The shop had the usual cloying atmosphere of old merchandise, but she hardly noticed it now. She was too excited by the growing certainty that she had stumbled on the missing Barclay property.

  The proprietor brought out a large ledger, and turned the pages until he came to the items, recorded separately under their various headings of jewellery and other goods. He turned the pages back several times, reading and re-reading the notes, and Carrie thanked her stars that at least he seemed to be a diligent book-keeper. But all antique dealers in the city were required to keep such ledgers, due to the large amount of thefts and pilferings that went on, and the goods that changed hands so discreetly under cover of darkness and the pawnbroker.

  ‘It seems that all the items were brought in by a young lady who clearly wasn’t aware of their worth. My late assistant paid her a nominal sum for them, which I must admit was far less that it should have been, so perhaps we might come to some amicable arangement.’

  ‘We haven’t come to purchase, sir,’ John put in, before the man could put an astronomic sum on the selling price for their benefit, and then miraculously appear to reduce it, as was common practise. ‘The lady believes she recognises these items as having been stolen, and we merely want to find out how you came by them.’

  ‘Most honestly, I assure you, sir!’

  ‘Mr Travis didn’t mean to doubt you, sir,’ Carrie said hastily. ‘But we would be obliged if you would give us the name of the person who brought in the items, if you please.’

  ‘It’s most irregular. If there’s any doubt about the background of any item, it’s my duty to call in the police. Apparently my late assistant had no such doubts on this transaction or it would have been called to my attention.’

  ‘Please,’ Carrie said quietly.

  He looked at her for a long moment, and she stared him out, refusing to let her eyes waver for an instant.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ he said, capitulating, and running his finger over the ledger notes once more. ‘It was a Miss Sophie Moss of Farthing Lane, Knowle. I seem to recall that she brought us some business at various other times too, on her client’s behalf.’

  ‘On her own behalf, more like,’ Carrie said in triumph. ‘Thank you for your help, sir. Would you be kind enough to put the items aside until I inform the owner of their whereabouts?’

  ‘Now, look here, young woman —’

  ‘I think it would be advisable, sir,’ John said. ‘Unless you want to run the risk of being accused as a receiver of stolen goods.’

  ‘This is a respectable establishment,’ the man began stiffly. ‘I shall give you one hour, and then the goods go back on sale.’

  They went out into the daylight, and Carrie’s heart was still thudding wildly. She was quite certain of her facts, but she hardly knew what to do next. An hour wasn’t long enough to go up to Clifton and find Helen and persuade her to come to the mean little antique shop on Christmas Steps. Even if she would deign to do such a thing on a whim of a former employee.

  ‘We must go to Mr Barclay’s office,’ she told John suddenly. ‘We’ll tell him all we know, and let him deal with it. He’ll need to be told, anyway.’

  She trembled as she spoke. She had had no dealings with high-powered businessmen and their offices, but this was necessary if that miserable Sophie was to get her comeuppance, and the Barclays were to get their property back.

  ‘Where is it?’ John said.

  ‘It’s not far. I’ve seen the building down in the centre of the city, though I’ve never been inside it myself.’

  Why should she, when she had nothing to do with business deals and money transactions? But presumably John would be worldly enough to deal with it all from now on.

  They found the building easily enough. It wasn’t difficult to find, with the name The Gentlemens’ Finance Company blazoned across the front of it, and notices inside the plush interior inviting persons of discernment to receive financial business advice with confidence and trust.

  ‘Cheer up. He won’t bite you,’ John said, when they had stated their wish to see Mr Giles Barclay, and were waiting to be shown into the great man’s office.

  ‘I feel just as I did when I was first summoned to the drawing-room on my first day in service,’ she muttered. ‘Just as young and stupid, and all fingers and thumbs.’

  She felt his hand curl around hers. ‘You’re not his servant now, Carrie, and you’re soon going to be my wife. You don’t have to be frightened of anybody.’

  After a considerable wait, a clerk came out and told them Mr Barclay was able to see them now. They entered the room, and Carrie tried to remember what John had said about not being frightened of anybody. Though it was hard to take courage from it when her teeth were threatening to chatter and her knees wouldn’t stop knocking. If she’d thought the Barclay house was grand, then so was this opulent office, a vast workplace that would have housed a whole family, she thought.

  ‘Sit down, please,’ Giles Barclay spoke, not bothering to look up. ‘You want to open an account with us, I presume?’

  ‘No, sir, we do not,’ John
said. ‘We’ve come to see you on a private and personal matter.’

  Giles looked up sharply then at this arrogant young man who had dared to invade his inner sanctum without a prior appointment. His glance moved towards the man’s companion, and he gave a frown. The girl looked familiar, and although she was clean and tidy and had a pleasant appearance, especially that richly coloured hair, she was clearly not well-to-do. He let his mind wander a moment, imagining her more soberly dressed in servant’s garb, and then he remembered.

  ‘Good God, it’s young — young —’

  Carrie helped him out. ‘Carrie Stuckey, sir, and I used to be in your daughter’s employ.’

  ‘So you did.’ He frowned again, more impatiently this time. ‘So what is it you want to see me about? If it’s another position, then you should approach Cook in the first instance, and not come bothering me in my office.’ His hand was already straying to the bell pull to summon his clerk to show these people out, when Carrie stopped him.

  ‘I don’t want a job, sir, but me and my young man, Mr John Travis, think we have some information of interest to you.’

  ‘What kind of information?’ His eyes narrowed, and then moved towards the young man who was taking up the tale.

  ‘My young lady believes she has identified some of your wife’s missing jewellery and other items that were stolen from your house before she was in your daughter’s employ, sir. They are in a small antique shop on Christmas Steps, and we’ve already ascertained that they were sold by the maid who worked for your daughter previously. We have the girl’s name and address, and we have asked the proprietor of the shop to put the items aside until you can come with us to identify them.’

  ‘Good God!’

  Whatever else he had expected to hear, it was nothing like this. But he couldn’t doubt the sincerity in the young man’s voice, nor miss the fact that he was better educated than the girl. He had called her his fiancée too, so the young Stuckey girl would seem to have done quite well for herself.

  She spoke up quickly now. ‘Please, Mr Barclay, the man said he’d only keep the goods aside for an hour while we came to fetch you. You should come with us right away, sir, before they get put in the window and maybe sold.’

  Giles leaned back in his chair, his fingers splayed out as he contemplated her words. He was a cautious man, who’d founded a successful business by weighing up all the possibilities of failure before he acted, and he needed to give himself a few moments to ponder on this sudden piece of information.

  ‘And what guarantee do I have that this is not all a hoax? That the two of you haven’t concocted this wild tale in order to kidnap me and demand some ransom money for me, eh? Am I going to be at your mercy once I’m outside this building?’

  Carrie stared at him in disbelief for a minute, wondering how anyone could think of anything so stupid. And then she burst out laughing, and all her fear of him evaporated.

  ‘I never heard such a bleeding daft idea in all my life, begging your pardon, Mr Barclay, sir!’ She almost gasped out the words, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry. ‘We’ve come dashing down here from Christmas Steps, hoping to save you and yours a packet, and put that Sophie behind bars where she belongs, and all you can do is accuse me and my John of trying to kidnap you! Begging your lordship’s pardon again, sir, but if that’s all you can say to folk who only want to give you some help, then you ain’t worth the snuff up me Pa’s nose, as far as I’m concerned.’

  As she stopped for breath, she was appalled at the way she had let herself down in front of such a grand gentleman. And in front of John too, which was even worse. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her, but of course it didn’t. It never did. She closed her eyes for a minute, counting to ten before she let out her breath in a long sigh, meaning to mumble a quick apology and leave quickly.

  And then she recognised another sound in the room and her eyes flew open again. Giles Barclay was laughing out loud, holding his side with one hand and wiping his eyes with the other. She glanced at John uncertainly.

  ‘Oh, Carrie Stuckey, now I know why my daughter enjoyed having you around, and was sorry when you left. You have a most refreshing brand of common sense in that pretty little head of yours.’

  Carrie looked at him suspiciously, not sure if he was patronising or complimenting her. She tossed her head. In for a penny, in for a pound now, she thought recklessly.

  ‘Well then, are you going to come to Christmas Steps with us or not?’ she demanded. ‘Because me and John have got more important things to do today than to sit around while you find all this so amusing.’

  ‘Of course I shall accompany you, my dear young lady,’ Giles said, still chortling, though Carrie couldn’t see what was so all-fired funny. But maybe nobody had ever answered him back before, she thought suddenly. And maybe it was time that someone did.

  They stood up stiffly while Giles summoned his clerk and told him he was going out, and wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day. The staff would be responsible for locking and securing the building.

  ‘And God help them if there’s a ha’penny missing,’ Carrie breathed to John as the unlikely trio made their way back through the city and up towards the steep narrow stone flight of Christmas Steps.

  ‘What were you two young people doing in the antique shop?’ Giles enquired, as if he needed to make conversation.

  ‘We were looking for a house-warming gift for my aunt and uncle who are moving to Clevedon on the twenty-eighth of this month, sir, when Carrie and I are married,’ John told him, since Carrie seemed to be struck dumb all over again.

  ‘I see. It seems that congratulations are in order then. And do the two of you have somewhere to live?’

  John explained about the house on Bedminster Hill, and about the new boat at Cummings boatyard that was taking shape so slowly.

  ‘But it will all come right in time,’ John said confidently. ‘We’ve had a few problems to solve recently, but as long as we’re together, we shan’t go under.’

  He smiled into Carrie’s eyes as he said the words, and her heart surged with love for him, knowing it was true. As long as they were together, they could survive anything. And the solemn Giles Barclay, intercepting the look, glimpsed the ghost of other days, and envied them their love.

  * * *

  It was interesting to Carrie to see how the professional mind worked. Once Mr Giles Barclay had definitely identified his wife’s possessions, he claimed them at once, together with the name and address of the light-fingered maid. The antique dealer, not unnaturally, was reluctant to simply hand over the goods, saying he’d paid for them in all good faith.

  ‘Can you prove this, man?’ Giles had said sternly.

  He scurried to bring out his ledger once more, and pointed triumphantly to the name and address of Sophie Moss, in Farthing Lane. Unfortunately, the entry also contained the miserable sum he’d paid for the goods, and Giles Barclay informed him that he was legally entitled to pay no more than the price of the first transaction. Whether or not this was true, Carrie had no idea, but it was enough for the proprietor, who obviously wanted nothing to do with legal matters.

  ‘Just think yourself lucky I don’t simply seize back the goods as being stolen property, man,’ Giles went on, ‘but since I do believe your story that you bought them in good faith, and that you have since been co-operative, I shan’t pursue the matter any further.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ the man almost gasped, clearly mightily relieved to be rid of these awkward clients. But he wasn’t quite rid of them yet, it seemed. Giles paused, with his precious belongings in his hands.

  ‘What was it you and — er — Carrie intended to purchase for your aunt and uncle, Mr Travis?’ he enquired.

  ‘A pair of vases, but it’s no matter,’ John said quickly. He and Carrie had already decided that the price was more than they could reasonably afford.

  ‘Point them out to me,’ Giles said, and when John did so, the proprietor was only too
ready to begin enthusing on the fine Chinese design and on how much they would appreciate in value in years to come.

  Giles brushed all that aside. ‘Do you think your relatives would like the vases?’ he asked John.

  ‘I know they would, but as I’ve already said, it’s out of the question.’

  ‘I would be glad if you would accept them as a gesture of thanks for what you’ve done today,’ he said brusquely. He turned to the gaping shopkeeper. The vases were really very fine, and it had been obvious to him that these young folk wouldn’t be buying them.

  ‘See that they’re carefully wrapped and delivered to the address Mr Travis will give you, and send your account to me.’ He handed the man a business card. Clearly no vulgar monetary transaction was going to take place now. Talk about how the other half lived, Carrie thought in amazement. But they’d got the vases, and Aunt Vi and Uncle Oswald were going to be delighted with them.

  They were thankful when they were finally on their way back to Jacob’s Wells Road and had parted from Mr Barclay. He had always made her nervous, and always would, Carrie told John.

  ‘I don’t know why he should. He’s just a man, same as the rest of us, and we were all made the same way,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t let yourself feel inferior to anybody, Carrie, and especially not when you’re married to me. I don’t want my wife to feel as if she’s got to dip her head to anybody.’

  ‘No, sir,’ she said meekly, and as he caught her mischievous glance, he relaxed, laughing.

  ‘All right, not even to me!’ he said.

  ‘Anyway, it’s different for a man. You speak properly, and you have your own business.’

  ‘Our own business,’ he reminded her, as they walked back through the city towards the waterfront area. ‘Don’t forget it’s your name that will be on the boat for all to see, Carrie. That makes you very much a part of it all.’