Dorothy Eden (10 page)

Kate nodded drearily. “Seasick, too. Would you believe it? Just when I wanted to be particularly alert. And I never want to see another train in my life. Or a tourist.”

The waitress had brought the tray of tea. She said, “There!” in a kind voice, as if temporarily forgetting her own troubles, whatever they were. Dirty dishes, slopped tea, sore feet. “I must look awful,” thought Kate, “to take priority over those things.”

She sipped the hot, strong tea and was suddenly glad William was there. Glad and grateful, but not excited. It was only William with his broad shoulders and untidy hair and penetrating gaze. Not Lucian’s dark, exciting face.

“There was this Eastern-looking man all the time,” she said. “I expect he was born in Bermondsey or somewhere, but he had a dash of Chinese or Malay that made him look sinister.”

“When did you first see him?” William asked.

“This morning on the train. Probably he had been there all the time and I hadn’t noticed him before. Though I don’t see how he could have had anything to do with it, any more than Johnnie or Lucian.”

“You’d better start at the beginning. And please be coherent.”

Afterward, William said the only possible thing that was sinister or suspicious was her room and her handbag having been searched. But that did not necessarily need to have any connection with Francesca at all. It looked as if she had been the victim of a confidence trick perpetrated by either Johnnie or Lucian, or both of them. It was lucky she had lost nothing.

“But why did I lose nothing?” she demanded. “Confidence trick men want money. I had quite a lot of francs in my bag.”

“These must have been looking for something else. They may have picked the wrong woman, and discovered it too late. The lights going out at the joint certainly sounds like part of the plot. But I can’t see that it’s anything whatever to do with the child. And why you should think she’s been brought to London is beyond me.”

“I saw her! At least I thought I did.”

“There have been scads of kids running about Victoria station.”

“I heard her call me at the Eiffel Tower. I’m certain of that. Besides, who would take her back to Rome? No one there cared enough about her.”

“I thought it was her father who couldn’t bear to let her go.”

“Him! He didn’t even say goodbye to her.”

“Kate! You’re crying!”

Kate blinked angrily. “She was only a baby and she had on her party dress. She’s been tricked and it’s my fault for not looking after her properly.” Kate blinked again, and the tears ran unashamedly down her cheeks. “I tell you, I won’t be happy until I see her again and know she’s all right.”

“You’re not going to Rome again?”

“I don’t think I’ll have to. I’m certain she’s not there.”

“Kate, darling, it isn’t your business any longer.”

“It is my business! And it isn’t your business if I go straight back to Rome.” Kate blew her nose, ran her fingers nervously through her hair and pushed back her chair. “Now you can take me to Mrs. Dix. She’ll understand why I’m worried. On the journey it got to the stage where no one really believed there was a child at all. But Mrs. Dix knew there was. I have to talk to her.”

Miss Squires was just getting ready to leave when Kate burst in. She looked up in a rather startled way, her eyes flickering behind her round, owl-like glasses.

“Why, Kate! What are you doing here at this time?”

“You know I lost Francesca, don’t you? I want to see Mrs. Dix.”

“Oh, dear! I don’t think she’ll want to be disturbed just now. We’re closed, really. I’m just leaving.”

“But, Miss Squires, this is urgent! It’s about a lost child!”

“Not lost, Kate dear.” Was there something evasive, a little uncertain, even frightened, about Miss Squires’ manner? “She’s been taken home.”

“I’ll believe that when I have proof,” Kate said firmly. “Now take me up to Mrs. Dix.”

“Very well. I’ll see.” Miss Squires was definitely flustered. Kate paced about the tiny office restlessly while she disappeared up the steep, dark stairway. Presently she came down again.

“Mrs. Dix will see you, but she’s not at all pleased. She says you should have telephoned and come to see her in the morning.”

“And in the meantime a child might be murdered!”

“Kate! How can you say such a thing?”

Miss Squires’ eyes were suddenly enormous, her face full of uneasiness.

“I don’t really mean that,” Kate said quickly. “But I must be sure. Francesca wasn’t exactly lovable, but she had a sort of private courage. Oh, well! I’ll go up to Mrs. Dix.”

Nothing had changed in the cosy, upstairs flat. Mrs. Dix wore the same brown velvet dress, and her face was pink and benign. She held out her small plump hand to Kate and then waved her to a chair. She gave no outward sign of the displeasure Miss Squires had mentioned, but she did look a little tired. Her eyes were heavy and a little glazed, and there was a strong, rather stale, smell of brandy in the room. Was brandy, as well as chocolates, one of her weaknesses?

Kate was offered the inevitable chocolate out of a particularly lush box (did a woman buy chocolates like this for herself, Kate wondered curiously), then Mrs. Dix said in her warm intimate voice, “Miss Squires tells me you’re worried, my dear. But didn’t I assure you none of this was your fault? If Francesca’s father decided to play a trick like that—pure comic opera, I must say—none of us could help it. Rosita, although she’s stricken, naturally, doesn’t blame you at all. Poor Kate, you must have had a dreadful time.”

“Mrs. Dix, I don’t believe Francesca was taken back to Rome.”

“Good gracious me! What do you believe, then?”

“That someone has brought her to London secretly for some purpose of their own. Perhaps it’s to bribe her mother, or to hold her as a hostage. I don’t know. But whatever it is, we’ve got to find that poor child.”

Mrs. Dix’s round soft mouth had dropped open. She was surveying Kate incredulously. “Whatever makes you say that?”

Patiently, Kate went through her reasons once more. Mrs. Dix seemed to be listening closely, but the lids had dropped slightly over her eyes, hiding their expression. And her nervous fiddling with a piece of tinfoil wrapping gave away her tension. Miss Squires had looked uneasy, too, Kate remembered.

When she had finished, however, Mrs. Dix leaned back with a relieved air.

“My dear girl, I thought you had something dreadfully sinister to tell me, but that all sounds
quite
explainable. The strange child in the bunk—such a shock for you! After that I’m sure you’d imagine you saw Francesca everywhere or heard her calling you. Someone in some book explains that kind of hallucination. It’s quite common, especially after a death.”

But that last word brought a sudden little silence into the room. Mrs. Dix’s eyelids flew up, as if someone else had said it, and startled her, then dropped again, and she fumbled automatically for her source of comfort.

Kate watched her bite into a chocolate cream, and said rather coldly, “My things being searched was not an hallucination.”

“But I told you to be careful, dear. You shouldn’t trust strange men in a foreign city. Not even Johnnie Lambert who, by the way, has left a message for you. But I’m sure Johnnie would never have done a thing like that.”

“You said you didn’t know who he was,” Kate pointed out.

“A slight mental lapse, dear.” Mrs. Dix’s eyes did not flicker. “I shouldn’t have telephoned you so early this morning. I was only half awake, and I’d completely forgotten about talking to him the day before. He flew in this morning, very disappointed you weren’t on the plane, but much more angry with me for sending him off immediately on another job. But I had an urgent mission that only he could do. He speaks Arabic, you see.”

“What was the message he left?” Kate asked, much more interested in this than in the surprising information that the rather simple, hearty Johnnie Lambert could speak Arabic.

“Oh, just to tell you not to forget him, you’d be seeing him again before long. He seems to have taken quite a fancy to you.” Mrs. Dix wagged her forefinger coyly. “He was terribly distressed about that little contretemps last night. The lights going out must certainly have been a planned thing, he said. He questioned several people after you’d gone, but of course one gets nowhere with that sort. However, no damage was done, thank goodness. Now tell me, please, about this other man on the train.”

“He was just someone who helped me,” Kate said aloofly. “He had nothing to do with Francesca’s disappearance, because he was with me at the time when it must have happened. We were having dinner. I shouldn’t have gone to dinner. I shouldn’t have left her.”

“Now, my dear, don’t fret! The child’s perfectly all right. I spoke to her father, the scoundrel, yesterday. I told you.”

“She left her doll. She isn’t happy without it.”

“Have you got it with you?”

“It’s here, in my handbag.” Kate opened her capacious bag and took out the crushed-looking, shabby doll.

Mrs. Dix put out her hand.

“Give it to me, dear. We’ll send it on to Francesca.”

But Kate shook her head. She returned the doll to her bag.

“I don’t think so. I’ll keep it until I’m quite sure where it’s to go.”

Mrs. Dix was annoyed. Kate knew, by the way she picked up a chocolate and squeezed it, smearing its liquid centre over her fingers. She made a cross little noise and wiped her fingers fastidiously.

“Really, Kate dear, I know you’re tired and overstrained, but aren’t you being a little exasperating. If both Francesca’s parents swear she is safely back in Rome—”

“Let me speak to her on the telephone,” said Kate.

“To Rome! My dear, a trunk call—”

“I’ll pay for it myself.”

“But the child can’t speak English! You know that.”

“She’ll recognize my voice and I’ll know hers. Please, Mrs. Dix! Put the call through. Then I’ll be satisfied and I won’t worry you any more. You can post the doll on to her, and we’ll forget all about it.”

“This is absurd!” Mrs. Dix muttered. “No one asks you to be so conscientious. Do you really insist on my doing this? I haven’t time and it’s most inconvenient.”

“Then give me the number and I’ll do it.”

“No, no, that won’t do at all.” Mrs. Dix petulantly picked up the telephone. “Very well, if this is the only thing that will satisfy you I will put the call through. Perhaps you will join me in a brandy while we wait.”

William was waiting, too, but that couldn’t be helped. If she could speak to Francesca and take that dreadful weight off her mind she would go down to William and be perfectly charming to him, and not let Lucian’s face come into her mind once.

Mrs. Dix tossed off her brandy very quickly, so Kate did the same. A little of the tension went out of her, but on Mrs. Dix the brandy seemed to have the opposite effect. She grew very flushed and no longer concealed her nervous glances towards the telephone. When it did ring she jumped violently, then gave a little girlish giggle and said, “I always do that. Isn’t it silly!”

It took a minute or so to make the connection, and Mrs. Dix kept saying in a high voice, “I want to speak to Signor Torlini personally. No, personally, I insist. He is out? Oh, dear! Then be good enough to get his daughter to come to the telephone. His daughter! Francesca! What’s that? I can’t hear you! No, I don’t want her nurse. Oh, you say she’s in the park. The gardens? Yes, I see. They went on a little outing. Quite, quite. They won’t be back for a little time yet? Oh, too bad…”

Kate was leaning forward tensely, her hand out.

“Mrs. Dix, let me speak. Please!”

“No, no, it can’t be helped.” Mrs. Dix’s high, firm voice swept on. “Thank you, thank you. No, it isn’t important. Goodbye.
Arrivederci.
”

She put the receiver down.

“Mrs. Dix why didn’t you let me speak to whoever that was?” Kate was almost in tears from rage and frustration.

“To Antonio’s secretary. That silly conceited little man! But there was no point, was there? Francesca’s out. Her nurse has taken her to the Borghese Gardens. A treat, I expect, to make up for her disappointment at missing the Eiffel Tower. So we’ve wasted the call. Isn’t that annoying. But surely it proves to you that the child is safely home and well.”

“It doesn’t prove anything,” said Kate slowly. “How do you know whoever spoke wasn’t lying?” She hadn’t been able to hear what the voice on the other end had been saying. It had been a shrill gabble, a tiny, distorted, ghostly sound that seemed to her to grow more and more reiterant. It surely couldn’t be that the speaker was speaking in Italian.

“Antonio’s secretary lying!” Mrs. Dix exclaimed.

“Whoever he was, doesn’t he know public gardens close at dark.” Kate glanced out of the window. “It has been dark for over an hour, in Rome as well as in London.”

Mrs. Dix drew up her stout little body haughtily.

“Miss Tempest, you’re exceeding your duty—”

“I’m worried!” Kate cried. “Aren’t you worried? But then you didn’t see Francesca in her absurd organdie dress. She was dressed for a party, and there was no party. We just didn’t manage to give her one. If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t just say casually, ‘She’s all right.’ You’d want to see her or speak to her, just to know. And that’s what I intend to do, even if I have to go back to Rome to do it.”

“Kate!”

“Oh, it’s all right. I’m not going back immediately. First I’m going to make sure, somehow, that she isn’t in London.”

William was sitting with his finger gently on the horn of his car. Kate could hear the dirge on one note as she came down the stairs. She hurried, tripped slightly on the narrow steps and began to laugh as she saved herself. William was infuriating and absurd, but he had a happy knack of reducing even a nightmare to everyday proportions. She laughed again as she came out on to the street and saw him with his head stuck out of the car, in earnest conversation with a policeman, but still not stopping the monotonous dirge.

Then he saw her and grinned, and lifted his finger from the horn.

“I’m sorry, officer. I agree with all you said. But if your girl kept you waiting, especially a girl like Kate, wouldn’t you do the same? Meet Kate, officer.”