Memories of You (37 page)

The next day at school she appeared pale and washed out. ‘That time of the month?' Shirley asked.

Elise didn't answer her. She couldn't. Her friend's question had reminded her of something that might be a consequence of what she had done. The day dragged on and after school when she went to their usual meeting place in the park she was fully expecting him not to be there.

When she saw him she started weeping with relief. She saw that he was smiling the same tender smile as always. It's all right, she thought, he still loves me.

 

Perry saw that Elise's eyes were closed and he relaxed a little. He stared out at the rain-drenched countryside. Rain, he thought, the blessed rain. He had always planned to take Elise home that day. First he was going to take her to the café but he'd never had any intention of actually going in. He would have told her that he'd spotted someone he knew and then persuaded her that, as they'd come that far, they might as well go to his apartment. Once there he'd had every intention of seducing her but he had not been confident that she would succumb. The rain had made things so much easier. It had been perfectly natural for him to suggest they go home and get dry.

He looked at her now through half-closed lids. Who would have thought she would have responded so enthusiastically? Admittedly she had had a little help from the generous dash of whisky he had added from his flask. But even there he had taken a chance. Alcohol can relax your sexual inhibitions but equally it can inhibit them. He had been lucky. The inexperienced schoolgirl had revealed a passionate depth to her nature that you could never have guessed at from her cool, almost glacially beautiful exterior. He marvelled to remember how he had not found her sexually attractive. That had changed. Even though she would need constant reassurance, being married to Elise might not be such an onerous task after all.

 

It wasn't until after Helen had finished her lunch of Lamb Noisettes followed by Plum Pancake that she opened her newspaper. She had asked for a second pot of coffee and once the table was cleared she eased her shoes off – no one would see her feet under the table – and opened the
Daily Chronicle
.

The national news was depressing, with more shipyards closing in the North-East and unemployment rising. The international news was even worse, with reports from Spain of continued fighting between the Nationalists and the Republicans resulting in massacres and bombings. Young men from England who felt strongly about the cause were actually going to Spain to fight on the side of the Republicans.

Helen thanked God that Matthew was no longer a foreign correspondent. Once he would have been there in the thick of it, risking life and limb to report the truth of what was going on. Although it made him impatient sometimes, Helen considered it a blessing that the wound inflicted in Afghanistan had never healed satisfactorily and had left him with one leg shorter than the other and a pronounced limp when the weather was bad.

Sometimes she was not so sure that it was any safer being a crime correspondent. There were so many dangerous criminals in London and other big cities these days and when Matthew was investigating a story he seemed completely fearless.

She turned the pages until she found his name and discovered that he had returned, like a bloodhound, to a story that he had covered before.

 

 

Helen's smile was rueful as she closed her paper. Watch this space, indeed! Suddenly she realized how much she had missed him. His reluctance to fully commit was infuriating – agonizing – but what could she do? She loved him and, although it hurt her pride, she knew she was prepared to wait for as long as it took. She could never leave him.

Danny closed the newspaper and stared ahead thoughtfully. He was sitting at Myra's kitchen table where he had just finished eating his midday meal. Joe had already gone back to the kennels and Myra was washing the dishes in the steamy scullery.

‘Are you going to sit there all day or are you going to give me a hand?' she shouted.

‘Can't help, I'm afraid. Got to go out.'

‘Huh! After that lovely extra helping of steak and kidney pie I gave you!'

Danny didn't reply. He had already gone. Despite what the dust and straw would do to his chest, he had to get along and see his brother straight away. He would have to tell Joe it was time to make plans.

‘You mean you didn't even notice that Elise did not come home from school yesterday?'

Hugh Partington faced his wife in the confines of her boudoir. He was white-faced with fury.

‘No, I didn't,' Selma replied. She looked and sounded defiant.

‘You didn't wonder where she was when it was time for tea?'

‘She does not take tea with me these days. I have a meal in the nursery with Bertie. She prefers to eat a little later.'

‘Where?'

‘What do you mean, where?'

‘Where does our daughter eat her tea?'

‘In the dining room, I suppose.'

‘You suppose.'

Selma's defiance crumbled. ‘Look, Hugh, I'm sorry. You can't know how dreadful I feel. How ashamed.'

‘And so you should be. To have the servants tell us that our daughter is missing. That she did not sleep in her bed last night. That is truly shameful.'

A hint of defiance flared again in Selma's eyes. ‘You didn't notice either, did you?'

‘I'm not often home at teatime.'

‘No, but you used to make a point of talking to Elise when you did come home. Of asking her about school, or her friends, or the latest movies and stage shows. You haven't done that so much lately, have you?'

Hugh was silent for a moment and then he said, ‘You're right. We are both to blame. We have neglected her.'

‘It's hardly neglect.'

‘Yes, it is. And it started when Bertie was born. All those years ago when you first asked me if we could adopt her I was afraid that this would happen. It seems she has packed her bags and run away.'

‘She hasn't taken very much with her. She can't be intending to go far. Perhaps she just wants to give us a fright.'

‘I hope you're right. But we can't just wait. She's only sixteen years old. We have to find her.'

Selma took a step towards him. ‘You don't think she could have gone to her sister, do you?'

‘To Helen? How would she know where to find her?'

‘It would be easy enough. She could have gone back to Newcastle and asked that dreadful woman, Mrs Roberts.'

‘Her aunt?'

‘Yes. If Helen isn't with her she probably knows where she is.'

Hugh looked thoughtful. ‘It's a possibility. Do you want me to go there?'

‘You? Go there yourself?'

‘Of course. She's our daughter, isn't she? I shall do what any father would do.'

‘What if you find her and she refuses to come back?'

‘Is that what you want, Selma? Would you be happy if Elise chose to leave us now?'

Selma dropped her head into her hands. ‘Of course not. And you must go. Straight away.'

‘I will. But promise me that you will tell no one what has happened. I've spoken to the servants and impressed on them that this must not become public knowledge. We don't want scandalous stories in the press. For your sake as well as Elise's. We don't want anyone to think you've been – we've been – neglectful parents.'

Seeing how wretched Selma was, Hugh took her in his arms to comfort her. She burst into tears but he did not know whether they were tears of grief or tears of chagrin. ‘Calm yourself, sweetheart,' he said. ‘You must show a cheerful face for Bertie. I'll telephone the station and reserve a ticket but we're only guessing that Elise has gone to find her sister. I'd better get some discreet enquiries started, too.'

‘A detective agency?'

‘That's right.'

Selma straightened up, took a step back and shook her head. ‘Oh, Hugh, how could she do this? After everything we've done for her, how could she be so ungrateful?'

Hugh went downstairs to his study to make the necessary phone calls but before he had even dialled the first number there was a knock at the door and a maidservant entered.

‘I'm sorry to disturb you, sir,' she said, ‘but there's a Mrs Chapman and her daughter to see you. Mrs Chapman says it's urgent.'

He replaced the receiver. He did not need to be told what this would be about. ‘Show them in,' he said. ‘And please go upstairs and ask Mrs Partington to join us.'

 

‘Eloped? You think she has eloped? But that's preposterous!' Hugh said.

Brenda Chapman bridled. ‘Preposterous or not, I believe that's what has happened and I thought it my duty to come and tell you.'

Mrs Chapman and her daughter Shirley sat facing Hugh across his desk. Selma was sitting beside him but she shrank away, almost as if she did not want to be there at all.

‘On what do you base this assumption?'

‘Tell them, Shirley.'

Hugh thought the girl looked excited. She was enjoying the drama of the situation.

‘She's been meeting Perry Wallace after school.'

Selma gasped. ‘Perry Wallace!'

Hugh felt a mixture of shock and anger.

Shirley, looking gratified by the dismay she had caused, continued, ‘She thought nobody knew but she was acting strangely so I followed her a couple of times. She was so besotted with him that she didn't notice.'

‘Why didn't you tell someone straight away?' Hugh asked.

‘That's what I said,' Darlene Chapman agreed.

‘Well, you don't snitch on friends, do you? And besides, to tell the truth I thought it was all fairly harmless.'

‘Harmless?' Hugh said. ‘That unprincipled ne'er-do-well meeting my daughter? I don't call that harmless.'

Shirley looked uneasy. ‘I simply didn't think that she would take him seriously. I mean, who would? Everybody knows what Perry is like!'

‘Except Elise, it seems,' Selma said. ‘Who would have thought she could be so stupid?'

‘So why did you decide to tell your mother now?' Hugh asked.

‘My brother Tom is home on leave.'

‘What does that have to do with it?' Hugh asked impatiently.

‘He told me how boring it's going to be now that Perry has left town. Then Elise didn't come to school today. I put two and two together. If I'm right I thought you should know straight away. Elise is my friend. I don't want any harm to come to her. I want you to do something about it before . . . before it's too late.'

 

Despite Shirley's revelations and the assumption that Elise and Perry had fled to Gretna Green, Hugh went to Newcastle. He was hoping against hope that Selma's first instinct had been right and that Elise, unhappy with the situation at home, had gone to seek out her sister. It was too late to call on anyone when he arrived so he booked into the Station Hotel and called on Mrs Roberts first thing the next morning. A smiling middle-aged woman opened the door and Hugh reflected that Helen's aunt did not appear to be the unpleasant harridan of Selma's memory.

‘Who shall I say is calling?' she asked and Hugh realized his mistake. This woman was a servant of some kind. The maid or a housekeeper, perhaps.

Hugh gave his name and waited in the hallway while the woman knocked and entered the front parlour. When she returned she looked anxious.

‘I'm sorry to ask you this, sir, but there isn't any problem, is there? I mean, Mrs Roberts is still quite poorly, you know.'

‘I didn't know she was ill. I'm sorry. And I just want to ask her a few questions. I promise you I'll not cause trouble.'

The woman looked at him speculatively for a moment. She must have been partly reassured by his manner because she said, ‘Very well. I'm Mrs Sutton, Mrs Roberts' housekeeper. Would you mind if I stayed in the room with you?'