She would not say a lot about herself, except that she had no brothers or sisters, and dad and mum were out all day. She did not know what her dad did for a living, or whether her mum earned any money, but it seemed they were both out of the house when she left home at morning. But Middlesbrough Police would find them – the neighbours would know their whereabouts. I felt very confident about that.
I took her into the dark depths of Strensford police station where Sergeant Blaketon was the duty sergeant.
‘Hello, what’s this, Rhea? A new girl-friend?’
‘Yes, sergeant,’ I smiled, still holding Janice’s hand. ‘This is Janice. She’s come all the way from Middlesbrough without her mummy and daddy.’
‘Has she, by jove? And why has she done that?’
‘I want to see the sea,’ piped Janice. ‘And dig sand castles.’
‘Hmm, well, what about your mummy and daddy then?’
I explained the circumstances and he rubbed his chin.
‘All right, well, Rhea, you’ve done your bit. Now it’s down to us. You go back to your beat and we’ll find something for Janice to do while we find her mum and dad.’
I bade farewell to the child, and she smiled at me as Sergeant Blaketon took her into the office. There he would leave her in the capable charge of the office constable who would ring Middlesbrough Police to set in motion the search for her parents and her eventual collection.
If they’d arrived home and found her missing, they’d be frantic with worry, but from what she’d told me, they would have no idea she’d undertaken this journey.
I returned to my beat and patrolled the town until it was lunch-time.
I booked off at one o’clock and saw that Janice was having a meal supplied by a nearby café; she was on a tall stool in the main office with her plate on the counter, and she seemed quite content. At least there were no tears, and she seemed to be enjoying the food.
Three-quarters of an hour later, I returned to report that I was resuming my patrol – our lunch breaks were of forty-five minutes duration precisely. But Sergeant Blaketon called me to one side for a chat before I left for the town.
‘Nicholas,’ he said, and his use of my Christian name made me wonder what was coming next. ‘That little girl, Janice. We’ve traced her parents – as we thought, they had no idea she’d come on that train. Now, her dad is at work until six tonight and he hasn’t got a car. He’s a warehouseman in Middlesbrough. Mum’s a part-time voluntary worker in an old folks’ home – she gets nothing for it, and it seems the family is not well off. Anyway, they’d arranged for young Janice to go to her granny’s today – but she hadn’t. Granny wasn’t unduly worried when she didn’t turn up because Mrs Massey sometimes changes her mind about going to the old folks’ place, and the parents thought the child was at granny’s.’
I listened to his long story, and wondered what he was coming to.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘The outcome of all this is that her father will have to borrow a friend’s car tonight, after work, to come here for her. There are no trains or buses into Strensford from Middlesbrough after six.’
‘I’m pleased we’ve found them, anyway. So she’ll have to hang about here until, well, nearly eight o’clock tonight?’ I said. ‘That’s a hell of a long time for the child.’
‘Exactly,’ he confirmed. ‘Which is the point of this conversation. Now, she likes you, so she tells me, she thinks you are kind. And young Rhea, you are a family man.’
I waited for his next suggestion.
‘That little bairn has come all this way all by herself just to see the sea and build sand castles; she’s even got her bucket and spade ready, but she’s been sat in our office for hours already, waiting. Just waiting as good as gold. And with never a sniff of the sea or a sight of the beach.’
And I do believe I caught a tremor of emotion in his voice, and just a hint of moisture in his dark eyes. I had never seen him like this before.
‘Yes, sergeant,’ I agreed with him, for I did feel sorry for the little girl.
‘So, go back to your digs, get changed into something light, the sort of stuff you’d wear on the beach if you took your own kids, and then come back here and take young Janice for a holiday on the sands,’ the words tumbled from him; it was almost as if he didn’t believe he was uttering them.
‘As part of my duty, you mean?’ I was amazed that he, of all the supervisory officers would take me away from uniform duties for a joyful task of this kind.
‘Of course, Rhea. But be back no later than eight tonight – that’s when her parents are due, and it’ll be too late for them to take her onto the sands. We can’t let her go home without making a sand castle, can we?’
I had some holiday clothes with me, and I did as he suggested. With little Janice carrying her precious bucket and spade and clutching my hand, I took her down to the seaside.
As I would have done with my own children, I helped her build castles, dams and holes in the smooth, warm sand; I gave her rides on the donkeys and we hunted for jellyfish, starfish and crabs in the rockpools. We found seaweed, shells and rounded stones which she loved, and there was a Punch and Judy show which she thoroughly enjoyed. I took her into an ice-cream parlour for a treat and showed her the lighthouse, the lifeboat and even the machines in the amusement arcades. But the sea and the sands were her great love – we went back and she paddled at the water’s edge and allowed me to dry her feet on a towel I’d brought. Not once did she complain or misbehave. She was a lovely child, and by six o’clock both she and I were shattered.
We sat and let the hot sand run through our toes, and then she filled her little bucket with her collection of shells and rounded stones.
Shortly afterwards, from a kiosk close to the beach, I telephoned my landlady to ask if I could bring a lady-friend in for high tea and she agreed. When she met Janice and heard the story, she treated the little girl just like an important guest.
By eight the child was almost asleep on her feet. I gave her a piggy-back to the police station, and when we arrived, her parents were already there. Sergeant Blaketon was there too, having returned to make sure they did come for their child. I was more than delighted that they welcomed her with kisses and open arms, rather than subject her to an angry telling-off. I suspect Sergeant Blaketon had something to do with that, and she went happily to her parents. It was clear that they loved her, and that she loved them.
From her father’s arms, she flung her thin hands around Sergeant Blaketon’s neck and kissed him, and then she did the same to me.
‘Thank you for taking me to the sands,’ she said. ‘I love you.’
And then she was gone.
She must be getting on for thirty now. She is very probably a very beautiful woman. I often wonder if she remembers that day with a constable by the sea.
By the same author
Constable on the Hill
Constable on the Prowl
Constable Around the Village
Constable Across the Moors
Constable in the Dale
Portrait of the North York Moors
Copyright
© Nicholas Rhea 1985
First published in Great Britain 1985
This edition 2012
ISBN978 0 7198 0513 4 (epub)
ISBN978 0 7198 0514 1(mobi)
ISBN978 0 7198 0515 8 (pdf)
ISBN978 0 7090 2380 7 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Nicholas Rhea to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
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Constable by the Sea Page 17