by Daisy Styles
That night Isla fed her baby with the formula that Ada had had the foresight to bring with her along with the bottles of prepared milk she’d fed little Heather on their journey over to Windermere. As starry-eyed Isla gazed adoringly at her daughter, flushed and asleep after she was sated, Ada began her long and frightening story.
Isla shook her head incredulously. ‘And there we were, thinking that Heather would soon be established with her new family, when all the time Matron was planning her own particular scenario.’
‘In retrospect, I think there was something fishy going on right from the moment Father Ben was hoisted out of his role. With the priest out of the way, Percival and Matron more or less had a free hand to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes – that is until brave little Shirley started to unravel the mystery. We know from her that Matron sneaked Tom out of the Home and took him to the Grange, where a horrid girl called Olive looked after him; Gloria heard the same girl talking about Bertie’s death while he was in her care, and it was the same unscrupulous girl who told me that Heather was going to be adopted.’
Jeannie shook her head as she gazed into the crackling fire, which the housekeeper kept well stoked up. ‘Good God!’ she cried out in anger. ‘Why would anyone in a position of power as they are steal a child away from Mary Vale?’
‘To make money, of course,’ Ada answered bluntly. ‘What other possible motive could they have?’
Holding her baby tightly, as if frightened she might lose her a second time, Isla recalled, ‘At the time, I really believed Matron about the measles scare. Though I remember you didn’t, Ada.’
‘I was very uneasy but I felt I had no choice but to go along with it – measles is serious!’ Ada exclaimed. ‘But now I feel so guilty I didn’t act. It’s my ward – wouldn’t I, as sister in charge, have spotted Tom’s symptoms? Just as I would have spotted that Heather had a fracture, which is what Matron told Jones to say. I knew something wasn’t right when Matron said Tom needed to be isolated, but I would have come across as grossly unprofessional if I’d complained, especially as she kept insisting, in a martyred voice’ – Ada rolled her eyes as she recalled Matron’s words – ‘that she was doing it for the “benefit of all the other babies in the nursery”.’
She gave a heavy sigh as she took a sip from the glass of sherry Jeannie had filled for her.
‘And then poor old Shirley paid such a price for seeing what she did,’ Isla murmured.
The memory of Shirley lying on the marsh caused Isla’s face to drain of colour, and, seeing her change of expression, Jeannie quickly suggested she make some cocoa, asking Ada if she’d come to help.
Once they were in private, Jeannie spoke in a whisper to Ada. ‘I know we have to get to the bottom of all this ghastly business, and we will, you mark my words. But my Isla is so vulnerable right now; it’s taken a while to recover from the experience of seeing Shirley in such a terrible way,’ she advised. ‘And then having to give up Heather, which she had no idea would be so hard, and now having her back – the poor child doesn’t know if she’s coming or going.’
‘She’ll need time to come to terms with it all,’ Ada replied softly.
While they waited for the pan of milk to boil on the big old Aga that warmed the kitchen, Jeannie earnestly thanked Ada for bringing Heather home. Ada blushed as she confessed how arduous the journey had been.
‘I knew I was taking a risk coming here, especially with little Heather, but an overwhelming instinct told me it was the right thing to do, I couldn’t think of anything other than getting Heather as far away from Matron and Sir Percival as possible in order to keep her totally safe.’
Jeannie gave her a comforting pat on the hand. ‘You absolutely did the right thing, and you were very brave. Who knows what would have happened to our precious Heather if you hadn’t had the courage to do that?’ Her voice turning more sober now, she continued, ‘You have no idea what a difficult time it has been here. Isla was simply inconsolable about leaving Heather; we were going to head over to see you all just as soon as this blasted weather calmed down. I initially thought that once her hormones had settled down and her milk had dried up, she might start to feel better, but every day seemed, if anything, worse than the day before. The longer she was away from her baby, the more depressed Isla became. So perhaps it’s partly fate that’s brought you here. I can’t see her being able to let the little mite go a second time, especially after all this.’
Ada slowly nodded her head. ‘I’ve seen things like this happen before,’ she confessed. ‘Not baby snatching!’ she quickly corrected herself. ‘But mothers changing their mind at the last minute and asking to have their babies back. In the end, only Isla can decide what is right for her and for her baby,’ she concluded.
Quickly lifting the pan from the heat before it boiled over, Jeannie made three mugs of cocoa. ‘I’ll take this to Isla and be right back,’ she said, leaving the room. When she reappeared, Jeannie had a big smile on her face. ‘Both fast asleep,’ she said tenderly.
‘They need this time together,’ Ada commented. ‘Isla struggled with her conflicting emotions in the Home: she never allowed herself to bond fully with Heather, yet at the same time she felt huge love for her.’
‘Poor darling,’ Jeannie sighed.
Ada gave a resigned shrug. ‘That’s what mothers who are planning to hand their babies over for adoption have to train themselves to do: keep a check on their emotions for their own sake and for their babies’ too.’
‘I’ve been wondering, now that we know something fishy was going on at Mary Vale, if Isla somehow intuitively sensed the danger her daughter was in – you know, like a sixth-sense type of thing?’
‘That wouldn’t surprise me at all,’ Ada replied. ‘One thing I’ve learnt from experience is that childbirth brings out an animal instinct in new mothers. I’ve heard some say that their wombs contract when they hear their baby crying; even though their baby is outside of them, their body reacts as though the child were still inside the womb. I have no doubt about Isla sensing her baby was in danger,’ she concluded. Laying down the mug she’d been cradling in her hands, Ada outlined her next plan of action to Jeannie.
‘Now that Heather’s safe, I intend to go to the police tomorrow. To be honest, if the phone lines hadn’t been down, I would have got in touch right away; as it is, I’ll now have to wait until tomorrow morning. I know it’s Christmas, but there’s got to be somebody on duty,’ she insisted.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Jeannie said without a moment’s hesitation. ‘First thing in the morning, we’ll go to the police station together.’ Seeing Ada’s weary face, she added, ‘You look like you haven’t slept in days, dear.’
Ada nodded. ‘I feel like it,’ she laughed.
‘I’ll make you up a bed.’
‘Thank you, that sounds lovely,’ Ada said, as a slow smile of satisfaction spread across her face.
‘I’d say, with all the evidence we have from Shirley, Gloria and Emily, and maybe even Olive, we have quite a lot to say to the police, wouldn’t you, Jeannie?’
37. The Local Constabulary
At Crow Thorn Grange, Sir Percival had sent Olive packing, dismissing her with heinous threats ringing in her ears if she should ever speak to anybody of what had taken place during the time of her employment there. Percival had dismantled the cot that Bertie had used and instructed the gardener to burn it immediately. With all evidence removed, he began to breathe easier.
One thing that comforted him was his standing with the local constabulary, with whom he’d always had a good working relationship. As County Sheriff, he was a well-respected member of the community; he was quite confident that the police would favour his side of the story, rather than listen to a bunch of hormonal pregnant women with an axe to grind. He would discreetly slip the officers (with whom he was on first-name terms) a fiver plus a fine bottle of malt whisky apiece. With luck and careful handling, they might just get away with it – IF Matron worked with
him rather than against him.
In Ada’s absence, Sister Ann had a very disturbing conversation with her superior in the Reverend Mother’s panelled oak study.
‘I’ve already heard Sister Ada’s side of this tragic, sorry story, but I’d like to hear yours too,’ she began. ‘When do you think all this ghastly business started?’ the Reverend Mother asked.
‘Really,’ Sister Ann answered slowly, ‘I think it started when Father Ben was removed from office; things started to slip and Matron started behaving erratically. Whenever Ada questioned her judgement, Matron always fobbed her off with some excuse. None of it felt right,’ she said, as she recalled the recent sequence of events. ‘Ada and I had our suspicions, but we only knew for sure on Christmas Eve, when we heard from Emily and Gloria that Heather had been taken to Crow Thorn Grange instead of to the cottage hospital. Once Dr Jones was caught handing Heather over to Sir Percival, and Gloria overheard the woman who was supposedly looking after Bertie talking about his death, it didn’t take long to realize that something was very wrong indeed.’
‘Holy Mother!’ the Reverend Mother exclaimed as she crossed herself. ‘So you think the little mites were all taken to the Grange?’
‘I think that must have been what happened – well, it certainly happened to little Heather.’
‘But why did they need to be taken to the Grange?’ the Reverend Mother said, puzzled. ‘Adoptive families usually pick up from Mary Vale.’
She paused to stare out of the convent window that gave a view on to the chapel and the small graveyard. ‘Hmm,’ she murmured. ‘And all of this took place after the very surprising allegations against Father Ben, when Sir Percival was appointed to take over the business of Mary Vale’s adoptions?’
‘Yes – and, as for Father Ben, I never did believe a word about his behaving badly. The man’s a saint. And he kept good records of all the babies born at the Home, and the names and addresses of their adoptive families,’ Sister Ann reminded her. ‘Father Ben was scrupulous with the details; everything was open and above board.’
‘Knowing what Ada told me about Sir Percival, I’d say there’s money behind this dreadful business,’ the Reverend Mother announced. ‘However, Sister, this matter falls squarely on our shoulders: we run a mother and baby home, not a baby-snatching service,’ she continued guiltily. ‘I agree with you. None of this would have happened under Father Ben’s good and loyal care. We’ve been duped, Sister, roundly duped, and we must make it our business to put things right; and, when we’ve done that, to clear our convent’s good name.’
Almost in tears, Sister Ann muttered her reply, ‘Absolutely, Reverend Mother. What happened at Mary Vale is a sin against God!’
In Windermere Police Station, with Jeannie at her side, Ada gave a full report on all the proceedings she and the others had witnessed at Mary Vale and at Crow Thorn Grange too.
‘There are at least four other witnesses I can call on,’ she told the officer in charge, and gave him their names. ‘And, hopefully, once I’m back at Mary Vale I’ll be able to furnish you with more information.’
After assuring Ada that he would immediately link up with his colleagues in Grange, the officer congratulated Ada, shaking her firmly by the hand.
‘I promise we’ll do everything we can, Miss.’ With a wink, he added, ‘It’s quite an ordeal walking over the fells with a new-born baby in the snow.’
‘My sentiments entirely!’ Jeannie exclaimed.
‘You’re an impressive woman to do what you did, Miss,’ the officer said with genuine admiration, which made Ada blush to the roots of her auburn hair.
‘It seemed the only thing to do,’ she responded modestly. ‘All I could think of was that Heather needed to be safe – that’s what drove me on.’
Jeannie gave Ada a huge hug. ‘Thanks to you, darling girl, Heather’s very safe now.’
After saying an emotional farewell to Isla, who had plans for all the girls to meet up once Emily was back on her feet, Ada turned to Heather, whom she’d grown to love very much.
‘Shall we go fell-walking again?’ she asked, softly kissing the baby’s pink fingertips. ‘I’ll take you over Hamps Fell when you’re a bit bigger,’ she promised. ‘And I’ll buy you your first pair of fell-walking boots too.’
After giving mother and baby a final kiss, Ada walked with Jeannie to the station, where she managed to get on a crowded train bound for Lancaster; there, she would be able to pick up another train for Grange.
‘The line’s only just been cleared, so it’s chocka on board,’ the porter warned.
‘I’d be happy to stand all the way,’ Ada said to Jeannie with a laugh. ‘If I don’t get back to Mary Vale soon, I know Sister Ann will have every rescue party in the North-West combing the fells for me.’
‘How can we ever thank you enough?’ Jeannie said, as she clung on to Ada. ‘My blood runs cold when I think of what might have happened to my little granddaughter.’
‘Seeing Heather safe is all I wanted,’ Ada replied. ‘Though there is one thing I would ask, Jeannie. Be patient with Isla: she’ll need time to come to the right decision about her baby.’
‘Of course,’ Jeannie answered staunchly. ‘But I have to admit that, if she does decide to put Heather up for adoption again, I just might adopt the darling child myself!’
Percival’s confident hopes that his cordial relations with the local police would save him were quashed when Grange Police Station sent over a couple of officers who showed not the slightest interest in Percy’s smarmy name-dropping.
‘Excuse me!’ he roared as they frog-marched him out of his comfortable home in order to interview him at the station. ‘I have friends in high places. You’ll live to regret this,’ he threatened, as they ducked his head down in order to push him into the back seat of the police car.
‘I don’t hold out much hope on that, Sir,’ said the police officer who was handcuffed to Percival. ‘Not from what we’ve heard.’
Percival and Matron were questioned separately several times and then together. Initially, they stuck to the same story: that they were doing friends a favour, fast-tracking their cases in order to secure an adopted child for them sooner rather than later. As the weight of damning circumstantial evidence provided by the residents of Mary Vale overwhelmed them, they both panicked (the holes in their story got bigger and bigger) and finally resorted to blaming each other. Matron’s resolve eventually broke down entirely and she confessed that the children’s files were locked away in her desk in her private suite at Mary Vale. She was removed from her post and asked to leave the Home immediately, while Percival went into hiding after the newspaper headlines condemned him as ‘A Baby-Snatcher’ and ‘A Wicked and Unscrupulous Man!’ With no money to pay for his Mayfair flat and champagne-style London life, Marigold quickly moved on to pastures new, while poor, long-suffering Lady Percival sued for a divorce.
‘If Percival gets banged up behind bars, Lady Percival might well hold on to Crow Thorn Grange, which is by rights her ancestral home,’ the Reverend Mother told Sister Ann; the older nun had trouble wiping a smirk of deep satisfaction from her face. ‘Now wouldn’t that be God working in deep and mysterious ways?’ she remarked with a wicked smile.
The Reverend Mother was further gratified when Shirley, accompanied by Sister Ann, appeared in her office, eager to explain the role she’d played in the recent dramatic events in her own words. After hearing of Shirley’s involvement and the hideous price she’d paid for it, the Reverend Mother reached across her desk to grip Shirley’s hand.
‘You suffered greatly, child,’ she said with tears in her eyes.
But Shirley astounded her by answering with a smile that bordered on beatific. ‘But God took care of me, God led me back to you – and Mary Vale.’
‘Indeed, praise be,’ the Reverend Mother replied. ‘Now answer me honestly, dear girl: are you brave enough to say what you’ve just told me in a court of law?’
Little as she was, Shir
ley stood up tall and straight, and, sticking out her chin, she answered boldly, ‘I’m not afraid, Reverend Mother. As God’s my judge, I will speak out in a court of law against Matron and Sir Percival – neither of them can hurt me any more.’
38. New Year
There was a happy holiday atmosphere in Mary Vale during the week after Christmas. Ada, now temporarily acting as Matron, went about her work with a grin on her face and a skip in her step, despite her increased workload. Sister Ann wore a similarly large permanent smile and Shirley virtually danced around the place. When she wasn’t with her mentor inquiring about the teachings of the Church or discussing a Bible reading, she was either deep in private prayer or accompanying the nuns singing their daily office in the chapel. In her spare moments she would dash into the schoolroom to join Robin, who brightened up at the sight of his friend; in truth, so did Gloria. In her last month of pregnancy, she was enormous: her small frame seemed all baby, and when she sat down her legs stuck out sideways in a rather comical way.
‘Honestly, I swear I look like Donald Duck!’ she joked with Shirley.
Though Shirley’s reading was getting more sophisticated by the day (with all her missal studies), she still enjoyed her lessons with Robin, particularly history, geography and handwriting, a subject, she insisted, in which she needed improvement.
‘Your handwriting’s perfectly all right,’ Gloria said in all honesty.
‘Not if you’ve seen the Reverend Mother’s,’ Shirley laughed. ‘I’d love my writing to be as artistic as hers.’
‘I’m a good writer,’ Robin announced, as he scrawled a row of letters. ‘Copy me, Shirley,’ he said like a bossy little teacher. ‘And you might get a gold star!’
Gloria rolled her eyes. ‘Is there nothing he thinks he can’t do?’ she muttered under her breath.
Even though her life was crammed with one activity or another, Shirley absolutely refused point blank to give up cleaning the Home.