Missing Person (30 page)

‘What’s the idea?’ Tommy over the phone sounded as if he still had sleep filling his mouth. ‘D’you know what the time is?’

‘Yes, close to one o’clock,’ said Boots. ‘Come to, Tommy.’

‘Wait a bit, me brain’s lightin’ up,’ said Tommy. ‘Is this something to do with Dad?’

‘Who else? Dress yourself and put plimsolls on. Then wait for me and Sammy to pick you up. Tell Vi you’ll be out for quite a while.’

‘If we’re all goin’ to be out for quite a while in the middle of the ruddy night,’ said Tommy, ‘I want to know why.’

‘Not now, Tommy. When we’re on our way.’

‘To where?’

‘To Walworth, to bring Chinese Lady’s better half home. I think.’

‘What d’you mean, you think?’

‘I hope,’ said Boots.

‘It ’ad better be more than hope,’ said Tommy.

‘Well, say a prayer, then,’ said Boots. ‘We’ll be armed, by the way.’

‘Armed?’

‘I’m bringing three cricket stumps,’ said Boots. ‘That’s all for now, Tommy. Stand by.’

‘Talk about the Lord of Creation,’ said Tommy, ‘but if – hello?’ No answer. Boots had hung up. He rang Sammy next, and Sammy left his legal wedded place in the marital bed to answer the call. He shook himself fully awake.

‘I’m guessin’ that’s you, Boots.’

‘Good guess, Sammy. I think we might be able to find our stepdad. Dress yourself and wear plimsolls. I’ll be picking you up in a few minutes. Then we’ll pick up Tommy. Give yourself a cold wash to get rid of any sleep. We all need to be wide-awake. Further, flex your muscles, we’ll probably want to use them. By the way, we’ll only be going as far as Walworth.’

‘If it’s not askin’ too much,’ said Sammy, ‘are we on to a cert?’

‘No, a hunch.’

‘I don’t like hunches,’ said Sammy. ‘Em’ly’s old dad, God rest him, used to get hunches on horses called also-rans.’

‘Don’t argue, Sammy, just get ready. I’ll bring you and Tommy up-to-date when we’re on our way. Plimsolls, don’t forget, not hobnails.’

‘I heard you first time,’ said Sammy, ‘and d’you mind not talkin’ like a sergeant-major?’

‘Sergeant-major? Watch your lip, Junior, that’s too much of a come-down from the Lord of Creation.’

Sammy grinned as the line went dead. You couldn’t get much change out of Boots, any more than out of a wedded female wife like Susie. But if he knew Boots, there’d be a good reason for acting on a hunch. He went back into the bedroom. Susie was awake, her bedside light, an electric boon, switched on.

‘Sammy?’

‘That you, Susie love?’ said Sammy, peeling off his pyjamas. ‘So it is. Bless me soul, don’t you look a charmer when you’re in bed? Beats all the cigarette cards I ever collected.’

‘Sammy, who was that on the phone at this time of night, and what’re you doin’?’

‘It was Boots on the phone, and I’m dressin’,’ said Sammy.

Susie sat up, loose hair a softly bright cloud of gold.

‘It’s my dad-in-law, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘I think Boots thinks he knows where he is,’ said Sammy, looking very athletic in his brief white pants and singlet.

‘You think he only thinks?’ said Susie.

‘Well, you know Boots,’ said Sammy, ‘he’s got a modest way of showin’ off. If he says he thinks he knows, he knows enough to make me dress meself seriously at this time of night.’ Sammy, trousers in place, pulled on his shirt, tucked it in and brought his braces up over his shoulders.

‘Sammy, are you dressin’ to go out?’ demanded Susie.

‘Well, Susie love, it seems that Boots, Tommy and me need to go to Walworth immediate if not sooner.’

‘That’s now, at one o’clock in the mornin’?’

‘Well, I’m not dressin’ seriously for anything but now, Susie.’ Sammy, socks on, fished for his plimsolls at the bottom of the wardrobe. ‘Boots’ll be here in a few minutes. You go back to sleep.’

‘How can I?’ said Susie, the bodice of her flimsy black nightie floating delicately about over her rounded turrets. Blow me, thought Sammy, is she worrying about me? Has me lawful wedded wife got a slightly agitated bosom? Bless her. ‘Sammy, are you
and
Boots and Tommy up to anything dangerous?’

‘Not on your Nelly, Susie. Chinese Lady wouldn’t stand for it. It’s just a short trip to Walworth on be’alf of your respected dad-in-law.’

‘Boots must know where he is, then,’ said Susie, ‘and if it’s not dangerous, why are all three of you goin’ and in the middle of the night?’

‘I’ll ask Boots and let you know soon as I get back, but if you’re asleep I’ll wait till breakfast,’ said Sammy, his plimsolls tied.

‘I don’t want any of your flippancy, Sammy Adams.’

‘Ain’t it curious?’ said Sammy. ‘There’s my Susie, fond daughter of Mother Brown, soundin’ just like my dear old Ma.’

‘I’m not laughin’, Sammy.’

‘Believe me, Susie, nor am I. Boots is comin’ the old sergeant-major stuff, and I’m havin’ to go down now to wait for him outside on our doorstep. I don’t want him ringing the bell and wakin’ our little man and our infant plum puddin’.’

‘Wait a minute, has anyone told Lizzy what’s happening?’ asked Susie.

‘I’m leavin’ that to Boots,’ said Sammy. ‘Lizzy’s been a bit fretful each time I’ve phoned her, imputin’ that him and me and Tommy’s been responsible for mislayin’ our stepdad. Well, that’s it, Susie love, like a kiss before I go?’

‘Boots, I’m scared,’ said Emily. They were in the hall, Boots about to depart. ‘I mean, if these people ’ave got hold of Dad for some peculiar reason, mightn’t they have guns or something?’

‘No, I shouldn’t think so, Em.’

‘What’s goin’ to happen if you’ve guessed wrong and Dad’s not there?’

‘I’ll feel like an idiot,’ said Boots. He kissed her and left, carrying three cricket stumps and a torch.

Mrs Harper, so-called, woke up again that night, conscious of those disturbing sounds. Such things coming on top of the trying nature of the day did her no good at all, and this time she went agitatedly upstairs to arouse the man who was sleeping in one of the bedrooms. Shivering, she hissed there was a bleedin’ ghost walking about in the kitchen. The man said nothing, but he got up and went downstairs with her. Using a torch, he examined the floor of the kitchen and then the scullery.

‘Come here,’ he said eventually, and she joined him in the scullery. She was still agitated. ‘Look, woman,’ he said, shining the beam on the stone floor. ‘You’ve got rats, not ghosts.’

‘Me, I’ve got rats? They ain’t mine, and they’re bloody ’orrible.’

‘It’s because the house has been empty and because it now smells of food. Go back to bed.’

‘I ’ate rats.’

‘You won’t be here much longer. We’ll all be moving out late tomorrow night. Go back to bed.’

She went. Well, there was a bottle under her pillow with a small amount of gin in it. She’d spent the whole of yesterday without any. Very trying, that had been. But she’d done a good job putting on the style when speaking to the man Finch, the German traitor, in that hotel car park. She ought to have been given a drop of what she fancied after that, but there wasn’t any in the car. She took a couple of mouthfuls now to help her get back to sleep. The gin worked. It sent her back to sleep and it laid the ghost of the unfortunate Mrs Chivers.

Tilly was dreaming uncomfortably of a fat woman in spangles and tights dancing about like a stuffed balloon on a high wire. She fell off, and Tilly woke up.

‘Oh, me gawd,’ she breathed, ‘did I come ’ere to be haunted by that Gladys Hobday? No, I didn’t. I’m leavin’, never mind me soft heart. I’ll go lookin’ for new lodgings tomorrow. Well, over the weekend, say. Saturday afternoon, say. I’ll put up with the aggravations till then. I can lock me door at night in case cowboy Dan takes it on ’imself to try his luck at gettin’ into me bed. Oh, lor’, what’m I doin’? I’m talkin’ out loud to meself in the middle of the night. Tilly Thomas, this ’as got to stop. And so’s thinkin’ about them little gels, that’s got to stop too.’

She turned over, shut out thoughts of cheerful Charlie and the problem of his daughters and drifted back into sleep.

It wasn’t long before the fat woman appeared again, still looking bloody ludicrous in tights. She began to prance about on a tightrope, which kept springing up and down. It sprang up once too often, and the female fatty was catapulted high into the air, turning somersaults. Then she began to spin slowly slowly down.

Tilly, of course, woke up again.

She fumed.

If Dan at that moment had had the lecherous gall to sneak in on her, Tilly would probably have done him the kind of injury that virile blokes don’t like thinking about.

Boots made Sammy and Tommy bring torches. When they were all in the car and it was heading for Camberwell Green, Tommy asked why Boots hadn’t mentioned a torch when he phoned.

‘It slipped my mind,’ said Boots.

‘You forgot, you mean?’ said Sammy. ‘You’re fallin’ apart.’

‘Sad, that is,’ said Tommy. ‘Never thought it would ’appen. Anyway, I’d like to be put in the picture.’

Driving through the junction into Camberwell Road, Boots explained why he’d come to the conclusion that their stepfather was in the hands of two men and a woman presently living in the house once occupied by the late Mrs Chivers and her daughter Elsie. Tommy said some conclusion, it was all pie in the sky. Sammy said never mind, let’s all have a look at the pie.

The night was empty of sounds, Camberwell Road empty of traffic except for Boots’s Riley. Street lamps cast their light over vacant pavements.

‘How do we get into the house?’ asked Tommy.

‘Do we knock and say we’ve come to empty the gas-meter?’ asked Sammy.

‘Not a very good idea, Sammy,’ said Boots. ‘Let’s see first if we can get into the yard and in through one of the back doors.’

‘Pardon me for mentionin’ it, but the back doors’ll be bolted if you’re right about these geezers holdin’ Dad there. So will the front door.’ Tommy had some thinking ability of his own. ‘And would yer mind tellin’ me how we’re goin’ to get into the yard in the first place?’

‘By way of the adjoining yard of the house next door,’ said Boots.

‘Are you thinkin’ that’s where me in-laws live?’ asked Sammy. ‘Only they don’t, they’re two doors away.’

‘No, I’m thinking of the house next door,’ said Boots. ‘I don’t know who lives there now, but every
house
had its latchcord in our day and few families drew it in at night or bolted the door.’

‘You’re goin’ to use the latchcord, walk through the passage to the back door by the kitchen, go into the yard and then climb over the ruddy wall?’ said Tommy.

‘Sounds all right,’ said Sammy.

‘Sounds a corker,’ said Tommy, ‘providin’ we don’t wake anyone up. Now I see why we’re wearin’ plimsolls.’

A bobby on his night beat, checking shop doors in the Walworth Road, gave the car a glance as it passed. An all-night tram, humming along from the direction of the Elephant and Castle, slowed and stopped at East Street. The bobby watched two people alight. Boots’s car travelled on to Browning Street.

‘I can point out,’ said Sammy, as Boots turned into Browning Street, ‘that the people livin’ in the next-door house are me in-laws’ neighbours, a quite decent bloke with two little girls.’

‘Well, suffer little girls to come quietly unto us if they wake up,’ said Boots, slowing down.

‘Bloody ’ell,’ said Tommy, ‘he’s playin’ Jesus now, Sammy.’

‘Don’t ask me where he gets it from,’ said Sammy, ‘ask the Archbishop of Canterbury.’

Boots changed into neutral as he entered Caulfield Place. He let the car run. It had just enough impetus to glide silently past the house that had once known Mrs Chivers and her daughter. It crawled to a stop beside the kerb. Its lights were out. Boots had switched them off before going into neutral gear.

Chinese Lady’s three stalwart sons sat in silence for a moment. Tommy broke it.

‘You still feel he’s got to be there, Boots?’ he whispered.

‘I still feel we’ve got to look,’ murmured Boots. ‘If he is there, it’ll be upstairs. Downstairs in these places is open house to neighbours. Right, let’s see if there’s a latchcord available to us at the house next door, and let’s hope we don’t come up against any bolted back doors if we manage to get into the yard that counts. If we do, we’ll have to force the kitchen window open. That’s going to be tricky, because there’s bound to be one man awake on watch. My only real worry is if they’ve already moved our stepdad out or didn’t actually bring him here, after all.’

‘What ’appens if we only find three people mindin’ their own business?’ asked Tommy, the whispered dialogue too low to be heard outside the car.

‘We’ll ask them if they’d like to buy three cricket stumps,’ said Boots. ‘But once we’re in we’ll make straight for the stairs. Go up with your feet well to one side. That’ll help to make sure the stairs won’t creak. There are three rooms. We’ll take one each, cricket stumps at the ready, torches switched on. That’s if there’s no sign of them having an all-night game of cards in the kitchen. Got it?’

‘Got it, Boots,’ said Tommy.

‘You can read the lesson next time Chinese Lady makes us all go to church,’ said Sammy.

They alighted carefully from the car then, closing the doors silently by retracting the locks. Boots led the way, with each of them carrying a torch and a cricket stump. Reaching the front door of Dan Rogers’s house, Boots felt for a latchcord and found one. Despite the overall tension, he allowed himself a little smile. The street, a cul-de-sac, offered not a sound. It was essential for the opening of the door to be just as
soundless
. The man who lived here might be as decent a bloke as Sammy had said, and his two little girls might be cherubs, but if they were woken up by intruders at this time of night, uproar would follow.

Boots applied a slow cautious pull. The latch moved, the door opened and the night air of the street silently entered the passage. Neither the stairs nor the floor were visible, but Boots and his brothers knew the layout of these Victorian terraced houses as well as they knew whose face was which. Boots let the latch ride slowly back into place, then stepped in. Tommy followed, Sammy after him. They paused to listen.