The Clippie Girls (35 page)

So when Peggy went to see Laurence, he said, ‘You just tell me how many hours a week you want to work and on what days and I’ll see what I can do. ‘Would it help if I ensure either your mother or Rose is at home when you’re at work?’

Peggy shrugged disinterestedly. She was tired. Freddie had been fractious during the night and even though it had been Mary who’d got out of bed to him, his crying had still disturbed Peggy’s sleep. ‘It doesn’t really matter. Gran’s always there and Myrtle’s on her school holidays. She’ll be there until she starts at the university.’

‘She’s done well, hasn’t she? You must be very proud of her.’

Peggy’s eyes darkened. She glanced at him, but said nothing, and Laurence realized he had said the wrong thing. Myrtle had been a credit to the family, but Peggy had brought them shame.

Alice Wagstaffe was the first person to greet Peggy on the morning she started back at the depot. ‘Hello, Peg. What you doing here?’ The smile faded from the young woman’s face when she realized that Peggy was dressed in her clippie’s uniform. ‘You’re not coming back to work, surely? Not when you’ve got a young baby?’

‘He’s driving me mad with his crying,’ Peggy muttered. ‘Besides, there’s plenty of them at home to look after him.’

‘But you’re his
mother
.’ Alice was scandalized. She pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are to have a lovely little baby. You should be at home with him.’

‘That’s none of your business, Alice.’ Peggy walked away towards the tram where her motorman for the day awaited, leaving Alice staring after her.

‘Put Freddie out in the pram near the front door. Poor little mite needs some fresh air,’ Grace instructed. It was a very hot Friday morning in late August.

‘Will he be all right out here?’ Myrtle said worriedly, as she manoeuvred the pram out of the front door and down the steep steps. She placed it carefully so that she could see it through the bay window of the front room. She glanced anxiously up and down the street. ‘Wouldn’t he be safer in the back yard?’

‘The sun’s not on the back yard now. He’ll be all right.’ Grace laughed. ‘Afraid someone’s going to run off with him?’

‘They might,’ Myrtle said seriously.

‘He’ll be safe as houses,’ Grace assured her and turned to go back into the house to prepare the evening meal for when three hungry clippie girls arrived home.

Myrtle eyed her grandmother. Houses weren’t all that safe these days, not when Hitler’s bombs rained down on them all, but she held her tongue. Instead she murmured, ‘I’ll do my reading in the front room. I can keep an eye on the pram then.’

‘Reading? What reading? You’ve finished school.’

Myrtle bit her lip. ‘It’s for university. If you’re doing English, you get sent a reading list.’

While Freddie slept peacefully in the sunshine and Grace peeled potatoes and carrots and turned her nose up at the meagre ration of meat that had to last the family for two days, Myrtle settled in the quietness of the sitting room. She was soon engrossed in the story. She loved literature, but since Freddie’s arrival biology lessons had taken on a new meaning and soon she would have to tell her family of a decision she had made concerning her future. She wasn’t sure what their reaction would be, so she’d decided to leave it until she’d taken her exams. She hadn’t wanted family rows disrupting her concentration. But her exams were over now and she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell them. Soon it would be too late and she’d be on her way to university.

Absorbed though she was in her work, she nevertheless glanced up every few minutes, checking that the pram was still there. As she came to the end of a chapter, she stood up, left the room and opened the front door. ‘Time you came in now, little man. Sun’s going down and it’s getting chilly.’ With a smile, she stepped towards the pram and grasped the handle.

‘Have you had a nice sleep, Freddie—?’ she began and then gasped in horror.

The covers had been pulled back and the pram was empty.

For a moment she was frozen in shock. Then she glanced wildly up and down the street, but there was only Letty on her knees scrubbing her front doorstep. Myrtle was about to call out to her, but then she realized Grace might have fetched the baby in, but couldn’t manage to bring the pram indoors. Myrtle flew back inside and into the living room. ‘Gran – Gran, have you got him?’ She stopped in the doorway, seeing her grandmother dusting the mantelpiece.

Grace glanced round as Myrtle, now rigid with fear, shouted, ‘Where is he? Where’s Freddie?’

‘Out in his pram, of course. Where d’you—?’

‘No, he isn’t. The pram’s empty.’

‘Wha—’ Grace dropped her duster and stumbled forward as if she had to see the empty pram for herself before she would believe it.

‘A’ you sure one of the others hasn’t come home and taken him upstairs?’

‘No, no, I’d have heard the front door. Oh, Gran, I looked out every few minutes. Honest, I did.’

They stepped outside and stood staring at the empty pram.

‘There’s Mrs Bradshaw. I’ll ask her if she—’

‘No!’ Grace gripped Myrtle’s arm fiercely. ‘I don’t want her knowing – telling everyone we can’t look after him properly—’

‘Gran – I have to. Everyone’s got to know and the sooner the better. That’s the only way we’re going to find him.’

She pulled herself free and ran out of their gate, calling out, ‘Mrs Bradshaw – Mrs Bradshaw—’

‘Eh up, lass, what’s to do?’

‘Freddie—’ Myrtle panted as she reached the woman. ‘He’s gone from his pram. Have you seen him? Have you seen anyone with him?’

‘Oh my gawd!’ Mrs Bradshaw scrambled to her knees and hurried towards where Grace still stood helplessly by the empty pram.

‘I did see someone near the pram – a young woman – but me eyes aren’t that clever these days and I thought it were your Peggy.’

Myrtle and Grace glanced at each other. Galvanized into action, Myrtle rushed into the house and up the stairs, two at a time, calling as she went, ‘Peggy, Peggy – are you home?’ She flung open the door, but the bedroom was empty. Just to be sure she checked the other two bedrooms and the bathroom too, but there was no one there.

Outside again, she shook her head at the questioning glances from both her grandmother and Letty.

‘Could it have been our Peggy and she’s carried him somewhere?’ Grace ventured.

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know. I’m just trying to think what might have happened.’

‘Someone’s taken him,’ Letty said sagely. ‘That’s what. You hear about it, don’t you?’

Grace sagged suddenly, leaning heavily against the doorframe. She closed her eyes and moaned. ‘Oh, Freddie, my little Freddie. Don’t say that, Letty. Don’t say it.’

‘Let’s get her inside, Myrtle,’ Letty said, suddenly concerned for the older lady. ‘She looks as if she’s going to collapse any minute. I’ll make her some strong tea whilst you run up to the top of the street and see ’f you can see anyone carrying a baby.’

‘How long ago was it you saw someone?’

‘Ooo, only about ten minutes.’

But ten minutes was a long time, Myrtle thought, as she ran up the street. The woman could have got on a tram or a bus. Anything, in that time.

There was no one who fitted Letty’s description of the woman in sight. Myrtle ran back towards her own home and then beyond it towards the other end of the street. Again, no one. There were people about of course, walking or waiting for transport, but no young woman carrying a three-month-old baby in her arms. Frantic with worry and guilt, she hurried home. Letty was still busy in the kitchen.

‘Gran,’ Myrtle whispered so their neighbour could not hear. ‘You don’t think Peggy has taken him and – and—’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘You know she talked about having him adopted, I just wondered if—’

‘No, no, she wouldn’t. She’s been so much better just lately.’

‘It could all have been an act and she was just biding her time. Maybe she’s found someone who’d take him and—’

‘No, no, I won’t believe it.’

‘What’s that, love?’ Letty asked, appearing in the doorway carrying a tray laden with cups, saucers and the teapot. ‘I can’t find any milk, Mrs Booth.’

‘It’s outside the back door in a bucket of water, keeping cool,’ Myrtle said. ‘I’ll get it.’

She returned moments later, but was too agitated to drink the cup of tea which Letty poured out for her.

‘We should get the police?’

‘Wait till your mother gets in.’

‘But we can’t just sit here, Gran. The sooner they know about it, the quicker they’ll be finding whoever’s taken him.’

Grace glared up at her, ‘But if . . .’ She stopped, realizing that Letty’s antennae were on full alert.

‘She’s right, Mrs Booth.’ Letty nodded. ‘That first hour, they say, after a crime – any crime – has been committed is the most important.’

Grace sighed heavily. ‘You’d better go and tell them, then, Myrtle.’

As Myrtle ran out of the house again and up the road, Letty said sympathetically, ‘I know how you feel, love. You don’t want everyone knowing you couldn’t look after your own great-grandson, but it’s for the best.’

Grace closed her eyes and moaned inwardly. Letty had correctly guessed her feelings, but at hearing it put into words Grace cringed.

Forty-Two

Myrtle ran until she felt her lungs might burst. But on and on she ran to the nearest police station. The words for what she would say whirled around her mind, but when at last she almost fell through the doors and staggered towards the reception desk, the only words she could gasp out were, ‘Please – help us. Someone’s taken him.’

She was lucky that a kindly sergeant with children of his own was on duty. He could see at once that the girl was very distressed. He came out from behind the desk, took hold of her arm and led her to a nearby chair. ‘Now, lass,’ he said gently, ‘what’s to do?’

‘Freddie. Someone’s taken him out of his pram. It was outside the front door . . .’ she was babbling, almost incoherently, to the patient sergeant. When she had said it all once, he made her repeat it more slowly, whilst he wrote down the details. When at last he had the full story, he was quick to summon help and as soon as the word went round the station that a child – a baby boy – had gone missing, stolen from his pram, four constables seemed to appear as if by magic. Quickly briefed by the sergeant, they put on their helmets and hurried out.

‘We’ll find him, love. Don’t you fret.’ The sergeant turned back to Myrtle. ‘Now, are you his mam?’

‘No, no. He’s my nephew. He’s my sister’s.’

‘And where is she now?’

‘At work. At least—’ Myrtle glanced at the clock on the wall behind the desk. ‘She might have got home by now.’

‘Then what we ought to do first is to go and see her. I’ll be off duty in ten minutes when I’ll be relieved from here and I’ll come with you.’

‘Letty’s there. She saw someone pick him out of the pram, but she thought it was Peggy. That’s my sister.’

‘The boy’s mam?’

Myrtle bit her lip as she nodded. There was still the unspoken fear at the back of her mind that it had been Peggy who’d taken him. At this very moment she might be handing him over to adoptive parents. She shuddered at the thought. Seeing her action, the sergeant said, ‘What you want is a nice hot cup of tea. I’ll see what I can do.’

Why was it, Myrtle thought impatiently, that all anyone could think of in a crisis was to make a ‘nice hot cup of tea’? But she didn’t refuse him. Her mouth was dry and her heart was still pounding as if it would leap from her chest. And there was no more she could do for the moment, except wait for the sergeant to be ready to leave.

After ten minutes, which seemed to the anxious girl to be more like ten hours, the officer was ready. ‘My name’s Sergeant Baxter,’ he told her as they walked out of the station. He began to stride quickly along the street. Myrtle had to take little running steps to keep up with him, but both she and the sergeant were glancing about them as they walked.

‘Now, lass, tell me who I’m going to meet when we get to your home. It’ll save time with a lot of introductions.’ By the time they arrived at the front door, Sergeant Baxter felt he already knew each member of the household and even one of their neighbours, Letty Bradshaw. As Myrtle led him into the house, past the empty pram still sitting outside, and opened the door into the living room, they were met by raised voices. Rose was arguing loudly with her grandmother. Mary was wringing her hands, tears running down her face. Only Peggy sat quietly at the kitchen table, her arms resting on it. She was staring straight ahead, her face chalk-white. She seemed unaware of the commotion around her.

Myrtle pointed to each member of her family in turn and told him their names. ‘And the one in the kitchen – that’s Mrs Bradshaw from next door.’ Letty was again making the obligatory cup of tea.

‘Right, lass. You leave it to me, now.’ The sergeant, a tall and commanding figure, stepped into the room and said loudly, ‘Now, now, ladies, this won’t help.’ The talking stopped and the sergeant placed his helmet on the table and sat down beside Peggy. He pulled out his notebook. ‘Myrtle has told me a lot already, but I need as much information as you can give me. What was the little chap wearing?’

Peggy continued to stare straight ahead as if she had not even heard the man speaking to her.

Mary wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. ‘Come on, Peggy love, you have to help the sergeant.’

‘It’s my fault – it’s all my fault,’ Peggy murmured. Grace and Myrtle glanced at each other grimly. Surely they hadn’t been right. It didn’t seem credible that Peggy could have done such a thing, but here she was admitting it. But then, Peggy went on bitterly, ‘I should never have left him with a schoolgirl and an old woman.’

Grace leaned her head against the back of her chair and closed her eyes, whilst colour flamed Myrtle’s face. They felt guilty enough themselves without hearing Peggy say it. But then, Myrtle thought, if Peggy had taken the child herself, she would be trying to put the blame on others to divert suspicion.

Mary, though her face was bleak with anxiety, put her arm round her daughter. ‘That’s not fair, Peg. It could have happened to any of us. I put him out there in the sunshine only last week.’