The Lost

by Roberta Kray

  It was five to one as Harry made his way back to their meeting place. Situated on the west side of the piazza, St Paul’s was a relatively small and yet somehow grand building designed, if he remembered rightly, by Inigo Jones. The Actors’ Church – wasn’t that what they called it? There were lots of theatres in the vicinity. To the fore of the four tall stone pillars, a fire-eater was spitting his flames towards the sky. A crowd had gathered. Harry scanned the watching faces but couldn’t see her. Was it even worth waiting? Perhaps, as she had done with Len Curzon, she would simply fail to turn up. He had almost persuaded himself of it when he glanced to the left and saw her strolling across the square.

  She was wearing a long cream raincoat. Her chin was up and her short black hair, sleek and shining, fell around her face. He felt a tightening in his chest as he stepped out from the crowd and went to greet her.

  Her mouth broke into a smile. ‘Hi. I’m not late am I?’

  ‘No,’ he said. He took another step forward. They were standing close, so close now that he could have leaned down and kissed her. It was an urge that he quickly suppressed. ‘You’re right on time. Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ she said.

  Harry hesitated. ‘I think we need to talk.’

  ‘Well, that’s why I’m here. You said you had something to tell me. You said …’ She gazed up at him, her smile slowly fading. ‘Oh God,’ she said softly. ‘You know, don’t you?’

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Ellen swayed a little on her feet. Harry took her arm and walked her quickly through a gate and into the confines of the small neat churchyard. There were wooden benches set along either side of a central path. She sat down, covered her eyes for a moment and then looked back towards the church. Her face, if it was possible, had turned even paler but there were two bright spots of pink on her cheeks.

  ‘How?’ she asked simply.

  ‘There was a photograph,’ Harry said. ‘It must have been taken when you were … I don’t know, fifteen or so. It was a picture of you and Tony. He’d written your name on the back.’

  ‘That was careless.’ She tried for a smile but didn’t quite make it. Her lower lip was trembling.

  ‘But it wasn’t just that,’ Harry said. ‘Len Curzon was the one who originally recognized you.’

  Ellen seemed genuinely surprised. ‘Did he? He didn’t mention it. I … I just thought he was after a story about Deacon.’

  ‘I think he was at first but then—’

  ‘He realized who I was.’

  ‘Little Grace Harper,’ Harry murmured.

  He heard her catch her breath and then there was silence. A few minutes passed. He didn’t push her. She would tell him when she was ready.

  ‘It’s odd,’ she said eventually. She was staring straight ahead but her gaze seemed barely focused. ‘It’s as if I’ve always been waiting, that it was only ever a matter of time. You live with the constant fear of discovery, that one day someone will turn in the street and … but now that it’s happened, it’s almost a relief.’ She glanced at him, her dark eyes filled with emotion. ‘Does that make any sense?’

  Harry nodded. He understood the burden of secrets, how it felt to have to hold things in.

  ‘I’m not sure how …’ She stopped and cleared her throat. ‘Who else knows about this?’

  ‘Only Jess. She’s the reporter I told you about, a friend of Len’s.’

  ‘She was the one who found the photo?’

  ‘No,’ Harry said. ‘That was someone else but they don’t understand the relevance. They don’t know what it means.’

  ‘But Jess does,’ she said. Her hands twisted in her lap, her pearl-tipped fingers engaged in some private anxious battle. ‘This is going to be quite a story for her, quite a coup.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s her priority. She’s more concerned with getting justice for Len.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said softly. ‘Most journalists are only after headlines. I’m surprised she didn’t insist on coming with you.’

  Harry tried to hold her gaze but couldn’t. Instinctively, he looked away.

  Ellen immediately picked up on it. ‘She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I wanted to talk to you first.’

  ‘You’re taking quite a risk,’ she said.

  ‘Am I?’

  Ellen stared at him, her dark eyes searching his. ‘You could be.’ There was an edge to her voice now, something almost bitter. ‘Don’t tell me that it hasn’t crossed your mind. After what happened to Len Curzon …’

  Harry fought an impulse to look over his shoulder. What if he’d got it all wrong? What if she wasn’t by herself, if someone else was with her? He thought of that dark car hurtling towards him. He thought of the sharp knife sliding swiftly into Curzon’s chest. They were only yards from the crowds in Covent Garden but the churchyard was empty. All it would take was … He glanced towards the graves. Dead and buried, he thought, and a shiver ran through his bones.

  She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. ‘I didn’t kill him,’ she said. ‘I swear I didn’t. And I don’t know who did.’

  Harry took a deep breath and met her eyes. He had to make a decision and he made it instantly. ‘I believe you,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m here. That’s why I came alone.’

  Her hand slid down his arm and wrapped around his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  It was another few minutes before she spoke again. Lowering her head, she gazed down at the path. ‘What you need to understand is that I didn’t grow up in an ordinary home. My father was an angry, frustrated man. He loved us but …’ She paused, her fingers tightening around his. ‘It was a confused kind of love.’

  Harry remembered what Jess had told him about Michael Harper. ‘He was violent?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘among other things.’

  He could imagine, although he didn’t want to, what those other things might be. ‘He hurt you.’

  Ellen neither confirmed nor denied it. Her eyes stayed firmly fixed on the ground. ‘My mother wanted to leave him. She wanted to get away but she knew what would happen. She’d been there before and …’ As if the memory hit her with a sudden force, she flinched, her hand jumping inside Harry’s. ‘He was a big man,’ she said, ‘strong. He liked to have his own way.’ Her voice began to choke. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said gently.

  Ellen nodded. Her left hand rose to her face and covered her mouth. It was a while before she spoke again. ‘It was getting worse,’ she said. ‘He was drinking more and … My mother was desperate. She knew she could never escape but there still might be a chance for me. That’s when she started planning. In her mind, there was only one solution – she had to make me disappear.’

  Harry could see where this was leading but couldn’t quite take it in. It was all too bizarre, almost surreal. ‘But there must have been other options.’

  ‘Like what?’ Ellen said. ‘The police, a prosecution, a trial where we’d both have been forced to give evidence against him, to go over everything he’d done?’ She shook her head. ‘There was no guarantee he’d be convicted. And even if he was … well, it wouldn’t be that long before he was out on the street again. She wasn’t prepared to take the risk.’

  ‘She could have left,’ Harry said, ‘got on a train, gone somewhere, anywhere.’

  Ellen gave a sigh. ‘Perhaps. But where could she go? It’s not easy without money, without a home or a job to go to. She’d tried leaving before and …’ A shiver ran through her. ‘I think she was too scared to try again. The truth is you can’t leave a man like Michael Harper. It’s impossible. For him, we were possessions. He owned us. The only way she could be sure that he wouldn’t come looking was if he thought I was dead.’

  There was a long silence. Ellen sat very still. Occasionally, when Harry breathed in deeply, he could smell her perfume. The scent was very light. It seemed as delicate an
d fragile as she was. He wanted to say something useful, something comforting or reassuring, but no words came to him.

  Ellen finally continued. ‘She asked Jimmy to help her.’

  ‘Jimmy Keppell?’

  ‘They only lived a few streets away, him and his family. That’s how I knew Tony. We grew up together. We went to the same school. My mother sometimes worked at one of Jimmy’s clubs.’

  The Starlight, Harry thought but didn’t say it out loud. The pieces were slowly starting to slot together.

  ‘He liked her,’ Ellen said. She gave a thin smile. ‘More than liked. That’s how she persuaded him to help.’

  ‘You mean they were …?’

  She shook her head. ‘God, no. Not then. She’d never have dared. My father would have …’ She gave another quick shake of her head. ‘But Jimmy always wanted the things he couldn’t have and my mother, at that time, was top of the list. She was very pretty, only twenty-five and despite everything she’d been through she still had this tremendous spirit. I can remember him coming round, the way he’d stare. I think he’d have been willing to do anything for her.’

  Harry raised his brows. ‘Anything?’

  She turned her dark eyes towards him ‘Almost anything.’

  ‘Jimmy usually has fairly straightforward ways of dealing with problems.’

  ‘These days, perhaps, but he wasn’t quite so impulsive then. I’m sure he thought about it but his heart – such as it is – never ruled his head. He wasn’t prepared to end up on a murder charge for any woman.’

  ‘But he was prepared to help make a child disappear.’

  Releasing his hand, Ellen suddenly stood up. ‘It’s cold,’ she said. ‘Can we go somewhere else? Do you mind?’

  ‘Of course not.’ As Harry got to his feet, he hoped she wasn’t about to run out on him. He had to know what happened next. ‘We could get a drink,’ he suggested.

  She nodded and started walking towards the gate. In less than a minute they had rejoined the crowd. The contrast between the peace of the churchyard and the noisy bustle of the piazza was extreme. They both hesitated for a moment, adjusting to the change of pace, before negotiating their way across the square. The pub was in the basement and Ellen halted again at the top of the steps. Gripping the railings, she gazed down.

  ‘It looks busy,’ she said.

  Despite the chill in the air, the benches in the courtyard were full. The sound of voices, of laughter, drifted up to them. Most of the customers were surrounded by an assortment of gaudy carrier bags. Christmas shopping, Harry thought, and frowned. He tilted his head and tried to see through the open doors. ‘There might be a table inside.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  He was tempted to go down and take a look but then, picking up on the reluctance in her tone, immediately changed his mind. This was completely the wrong place to be: the atmosphere was too light-hearted, too festive. And it was all too public. It would be impossible for her to talk if she thought she might be overheard.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Let’s leave it. Come on, we’ll find somewhere quieter.’

  It was Saturday, however, and everywhere was bound to be busy. Afraid that he might never hear the end of her story, Harry racked his brains for an alternative. He couldn’t take her to his flat – what if Val came back? – and they couldn’t go to Berry Square. There was only one other option.

  ‘What about the office?’ he said. ‘It’s not too far from here. It should be empty.’

  Ellen lifted her face but said nothing.

  Harry couldn’t decipher her expression – it seemed concerned, confused – and he instantly regretted saying that the office would be empty. Oh no! Did she suspect he was making some kind of indecent proposal? ‘I didn’t … I wasn’t … I only meant that we wouldn’t be disturbed.’ Christ, he inwardly swore. That wasn’t any better. What was the matter with him? It was barely ten minutes since she’d been revealing the abuse she had suffered as a child and already he was sounding like some pervert who couldn’t wait to take advantage.

  ‘Or maybe we could find another pub,’ he said. ‘Yeah, that might be better. I’m sure there must be—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, lightly touching his arm. ‘I do trust you, you know. The office will be fine.’

  Harry stared into her eyes. Did she trust him? He wanted her to but couldn’t see how that was possible. They hardly knew each other and what she was about to tell him, what she’d already told him, would change her life forever.

  Mac’s office was only slightly more comfortable than the reception area but it was warm – or at least it would be once the heating kicked in – and there were two decent seats and a good supply of booze. He asked what she’d like to drink.

  ‘Whatever you’re having.’

  Harry poured them both a stiff Scotch and soda and carried them over to the desk. She sat down in a swivel chair, lifted the glass and took a few sips before looking around. There wasn’t much to view: the worn beige carpet, a cupboard, four metal filing cabinets and a calendar on the wall.

  ‘Welcome to my world,’ he said. ‘Or rather the boss’s world. We minions are usually consigned to the outer regions.’

  ‘Won’t he mind,’ she said, ‘about us using his office, drinking his Scotch?’

  Harry sat in the chair opposite and shook his head. ‘He’s got more important concerns at the moment.’

  She gave a thin smile and glanced at her watch.

  He wondered where she was supposed to be, what she’d told her husband. Did Adam Shaw have any idea of who she really was? He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to wake up one morning and find yourself married to a woman who had ‘died’ over twenty years ago.

  Ellen’s voice was low as she began to speak again. ‘It was Jimmy who made most of the arrangements. He had this cousin, Rose. Her husband was an Irishman called William Corby. I’d met them a few times before and they seemed nice enough. The night my mother told me, we were sitting in the kitchen, just the two of us, and she gave me ice-cream, that Neapolitan stuff with the three different flavours. There were tinned peaches too.’ She stopped, gave a hollow laugh and looked across at him. ‘It’s odd the things you remember, isn’t it?’

  Harry nodded.

  Ellen lowered her eyes and gazed down at the desk. Tracing its old scars with the tips of her fingers, she seemed completely absorbed. ‘She asked if I could keep a secret, a big secret, and of course I said Yes. Then she kissed me. She kissed me and said she knew that I would never let her down. She told me I’d be going to Ireland for a while, talked about it like it was some kind of holiday. She couldn’t come with me but promised we’d be together soon. In the meantime I had to listen very carefully, to do what I was told or … or my father would …’ Pausing, Ellen lifted the glass to her mouth. Her hand was shaking. ‘She said if I didn’t keep the secret, if I didn’t do exactly what I was told, I might never see her again.’

  The silence that followed felt empty and immense. Harry wanted to fill it. He wished they were not separated by the solid stretch of desk, that he could reach out and touch her. But perhaps that was not what she wanted. Perhaps she needed the distance.

  Quickly finishing the drink, Ellen held out the glass. ‘Would you mind?’

  He got up, poured another Scotch, weaker than the one before, and took it back to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, raising it eagerly to her lips. She drank a third in one gulp, hesitated as if waiting for the alcohol to take effect, and then gave a long sigh. The tension in her shoulders eased a little.

  ‘It all seemed to happen so fast. I know it was dark when we left the house. We went to a flat, some place of Jimmy’s; I’ve no idea where it was. He drove us there in the car but then went away again. My mother cut and dyed my hair. I can remember … I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. I was a different person. We both started laughing. It was like a game but serious too. I couldn’t forget what she’d told me about not
seeing her again. She made me keep repeating the same things over and over again: My name is Ellen Marie Corby and I’m seven years old. My birthday is the third of May.’

  Ellen glanced at him, attempting a smile. ‘I didn’t like the seven bit much. What eight-year-old would? It’s only now I can appreciate the advantage of being able to claim to be a year younger than I actually am.’

  Harry smiled faintly.

  ‘It’s kind of blurry from then on,’ she said. ‘Jimmy came back with Rose and William and we got in the car again. My mother wasn’t with us. I don’t recall any emotional farewells – perhaps I’ve blanked them out or maybe she didn’t want to upset me. It was hours before he dropped us off; I must have slept for most of the journey. I’ve only got the vaguest memory of getting on a boat, an overnight ferry I suppose, and the next morning I was in Ireland. From that point on I ceased to be Grace Harper.’

  Harry couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. ‘But why did the Corbys agree to it?’

  ‘It was a risk, wasn’t it? I’m sure Jimmy paid them but it was more than that. I believe they felt genuinely sorry for me. They knew what my father was like, what danger I was in. I suppose they wanted to protect me. And maybe …’

  ‘Maybe?’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t know. They’d lost their own daughter when she was just a baby. Rose couldn’t have any more kids. Perhaps by giving me their child’s name, her identity, they thought they could try and create something good out of bad. They thought they were doing the right thing.’

  Harry knocked back the rest of his own drink. In the past he had always been clear on where the line lay between right or wrong. Now he was not so certain. ‘And then?’ he said.

  ‘We went to a house in Dublin, something else that Jimmy must have fixed. We were strangers there. We didn’t know a soul and no one knew us. So far as the neighbours were concerned we were just an ordinary family: Mum, Dad and little Ellen. There was no reason for anyone to connect me with the missing fair-haired girl in the papers.’