The Forget-Me-Not Summer (20 page)

Miranda, watching Julian closely, saw the worry fade from his face. ‘Thank you for telling me, Uncle,' he said quietly. ‘And now let us get on with the business in hand, which is making Missie comfortable and returning her to her island.'

Later that evening, as she made her way across to Number Six, Miranda reflected that everything had gone according to plan. Not knowing the area as well as Steve did, she had not realised that they would pass Russell Street every time they went to the city centre, though Steve had pointed this out to Missie. ‘We'll be able to visit you on our way to and from Paddy's Market and
that,' he had told her. ‘And after what Mr Grimshaw said, you needn't fear meeting anyone from the
Pride of the Sea
.' He had shaken his head in self-reproach. ‘Weren't we daft not to realise that the last place on earth Captain Hogg would want to visit would be Liverpool? It might be different if he had realised you'd be too afraid to go to the authorities, but I don't suppose that even crossed his mind. No, Mr Grimshaw was right. Probably this is the one place on earth that the
Pride of the Sea
dare not visit.'

Miranda approached Number Six with rather less than her usual caution, because her mind was full of the happenings of the afternoon and their plans for the future. At first her aunt had nagged her about her frequent absences, but when she realised that her niece was still doing her share of the housework, yet was seldom present at mealtimes, she had stopped expecting her to come straight home from school. The fact that Beth's boyfriend often accompanied her cousin home also made Miranda's life easier. In front of Herbert Wade, her aunt was on her best behaviour, treating Miranda, if not with affection, at least with civility, and anyway she was usually in bed by the time Miranda returned to the house.

This evening, however, when she went to open the back door, it was locked. Miranda stared. True, she was a good deal later than usual, but her aunt had never locked her out before. Naturally lazy and knowing that there was nothing worth stealing in Number Six, she never bothered to lock up. Miranda stepped back and looked up at the bedroom windows. No light showed, and she hesitated to knock. If she could have roused Beth without waking Aunt Vi, she would have done so, but
there was little chance of that. Miranda heaved a sigh; one way and another she had managed to keep on the right side of her aunt recently, but she knew that if she woke her the least she could expect was a clack round the ear. She glanced towards the coal shed; she didn't much fancy trying to sleep in there, nor in the noisome little privy.

It was beginning to rain, and it was both cold and windy, which meant a night in the open was out of the question. The only alternative was to walk back to Jamaica House, wake Missie, wrap herself in one of the blankets and spend the night there. Miranda glanced hopefully at the downstairs windows, but they were all tightly shut. Oh well, it's a walk I've done often enough, and as I go I'll try to think of some solution to the problem of Timmy, she told herself. She wondered if the Grimshaws might take him in. They had a marvellous house but no pets, as far as she had been able to tell, and surely once they had seen Timmy they would be as eager to give him a home as she had been herself. She would still have loved to keep him, but knew that that would be impossible. Later, when I've got a proper job, I really will have a dog of my own, she mused as she walked, but until then I must just make sure that Timmy doesn't lose out.

By the time Miranda reached Jamaica House, the light rain had turned heavy and she was glad to open the door in the wall, cross the garden at a tired trot and approach the kitchen door. She knew Missie slept in a tiny box-like attic room on the top floor because she said she felt safer up there, and she knew that Timmy usually occupied the foot of Missie's bed. Normally he would
rush downstairs, tail going nineteen to the dozen, eyes bright, ears flattened in welcome, but she had no idea how he would greet someone coming in the middle of the night. She hoped he wouldn't bark and scare Missie out of her wits, but perhaps it was not as late as she had imagined, for when she opened the kitchen door and slipped inside she saw that the room was lamp-lit, the fire glowed in the hearth and Missie was sitting at the big kitchen table eating some sort of stew from a large plate, whilst Timmy, at her feet, was destroying a large bone which Steve had wheedled from the butcher on Scotland Road.

Missie looked up and beamed when she saw who had entered, and Miranda, smiling back, thought how the visit to Holmwood Lodge had calmed all her friend's fears. Once, she would have shot out of her seat and disappeared into the rabbit warren of other rooms, but now she simply greeted Miranda as though night-time visits were commonplace.

‘Have some stew, Miranda. Late for visiting,' she chuckled. She got up and fetched a second plate from the sideboard, then ladled stew into it and pushed it towards her unexpected guest. ‘Go on, take bread,' she said. ‘Timmy got bone; he ate his stew. Why you here?'

Miranda explained and Missie nodded wisely. ‘I thought it something like that,' she said. ‘Your aunt holy terror. When you finished, I get you blankets.' She beamed at Miranda; a small face shining with childlike happiness. ‘It be nice and warm here; we damp down fire and both sleep on floor. Mr Vernon take me away soon.'

‘I'll come with you and help you carry the blankets,'
Miranda said eagerly as she finished the stew on her plate. It was just a mixture of vegetables, but Missie had been living mostly on vegetables over the summer and knew how to make them tasty.

The two of them climbed the stairs by the light of the lantern Missie carried, and very soon the pair were back in the kitchen and making a bed on the floor, well supplied with blankets and cushions. Then they settled down, with Timmy curled up between them. Rather to her surprise, however, Miranda did not feel tired, but found herself wanting to talk over the events of the past couple of days. ‘I wonder why you didn't sleep down here in the warm before, Missie?' she said, snuggling down. ‘Were you too afraid of Captain Hogg and his merry men to sleep on the ground floor?'

Missie nodded. ‘Yes. Mr Vernon, he no understand. Those men bad through and through; ship is evil. On very night I escape from ship, before I find Jamaica House, I make myself sort of nest in basement of other house, some way from docks. Moon was shining like daylight and I saw Captain Pig and first mate pulling woman along. She wore long white gown, hair loose. She not look bad woman, yet she with bad men . . .'

Miranda had only been half listening but on hearing those words she jerked upright and interrupted without ceremony. ‘Missie, that poor woman might have been my mother! Can you recall what day it was? What street? Was the lady very beautiful? Oh, Missie, you know I live with my aunt? Well, I only moved in with her because my mother had disappeared – I don't think I told you because it upset me when people said she had gone away with a man. I knew that wasn't true. If she had wanted
to go away with someone she would have taken her clothes, her books, all the things she loved, and me as well, of course, but she left in the middle of the night and I couldn't see anything missing from her wardrobe, so she might have been wearing just her nightdress. Oh, Missie, I'm sure you must have seen my mother being kidnapped by Captain Hogg! Was she bound or gagged? Were they carrying her? Please, Missie, tomorrow morning you must come to the police with me and tell them what you saw!'

Missie looked confused and worried. ‘She not cry for help. Men have arms round her,' she said.

‘Are you sure she was walking and not being carried?' Miranda said desperately. ‘If only you will come to the police station I'm sure they will ask the Port Authority when the
Pride of the Sea
tied up at the quay, which would tell us for certain whether it was the day my mother disappeared. Oh, Missie, I beg of you to come to the police with me. Or if you won't do that, would you tell Mr Grimshaw what you saw?'

Miranda watched as the worry slowly cleared from her companion's face, to be replaced by a tentative smile. ‘Yes, that good idea,' Missie said, clearly relieved. ‘Mr Vernon would say I must not go to police.'

Miranda opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. She suddenly realised that the first thing the law would ask would be for Missie's name and address. Also, it would be useless for her, Miranda, to tell the police what Missie had seen; that was not evidence, but hearsay. No, Missie was right. Mr Grimshaw would know what to do. Miranda settled back in her blankets. Missie had doused the lamp and the two had been talking in the
fire's glow and now Missie turned to Miranda, her face alive with curiosity. ‘It long time ago; have you been with your aunt long time?' she asked.

‘Yes, I have; it seems like a lifetime,' Miranda said gloomily. ‘Oh, my poor darling mother! What will they have done with her? Would they keep her on the ship as they kept you, to cook and clean for them?' She smothered a chuckle. ‘If so I imagine they would very soon regret it. She isn't much of a cook and she hates housework.'

She glanced at Missie as she spoke and saw how Missie's eyes refused to meet her own. ‘If was your mother, she mebbe escape, like me,' she said evasively.

‘Yes, but if she did escape, why hasn't she come home?' Miranda said uneasily. ‘I suppose it might take time to get people to help her if she's in a foreign country where they don't speak English, but as you say, a great deal of time has passed. Oh, Missie, I can't wait to tell Mr Grimshaw what you saw, and to get his opinion on what we should do next.'

Next day Miranda was so excited that she would have gone straight to Holmwood, but this Missie refused to do. ‘You must go to your aunt's home and find out why she lock you out,' she said. ‘There could be many reasons.'

The two of them were drinking tea and eating toast in the kitchen. Outside, the rain had really got into its stride and was pelting down and Miranda did not fancy the long walk back to Jamaica Close in such weather, but Missie produced the purse of money which Mr Grimshaw had given her and insisted that she should take the tram fare. ‘And if your aunt ask where you spend night, tell
her it with a school friend,' she instructed, and went on to explain that though she knew Miranda wouldn't give her away on purpose, she was so excited over the possibility that Missie had seen her mother that night that she might give something away. ‘If you leave at once you be back here in time for us to catch two o'clock bus out to Holmwood. Perhaps rain will have stopped by then. Are you going to tell Steve what I saw?'

Miranda shook her head. ‘I won't tell him today. As it is, we're going to have our work cut out to convince Mr Grimshaw.' She stood up, drained her teacup and headed for the back door. ‘I'd best be making tracks.' Timmy shot across the room, his tail wagging so fast that it became a blur, for he did love a walk. However, Miranda had to disillusion him. ‘Not today, old chap; you stay with Missie until I get back,' she said. She turned to the older woman. ‘Do you think we could take him to Holmwood Lodge this afternoon? Only if they fell in love with him it would solve at least one of our problems.'

Missie laughed. ‘You never know luck,' she said. ‘See you later, Miranda.'

A couple of hours later Miranda, now clad in an old mackintosh with a scarf tied round her head, scarcely bothered to look round her before approaching the door in the ivy-covered wall. Quite apart from the fact that the rain was so heavy she could only see a couple of yards ahead, she knew that the factories did not work on Sundays, so did not fear being seen. The trees dripped and the flowers hung their heads so that the garden was no longer a paradise but looked neglected and rather sad. And neglected it soon would be, Miranda mused ruefully, for once Missie was gone she did not suppose
that she and Steve would come here often. Steve would shortly be leaving school and getting a job, and she herself intended to follow his example as soon as she could. There were hostels for girls working in Liverpool, and once she found work she meant to leave the house in Jamaica Close, move into a hostel and start looking for Arabella in earnest.

As soon as she opened the back door Timmy rushed to meet her and Missie, peeling potatoes at the low stone sink, turned to give her a smile. ‘Well?' she said eagerly. ‘Why they lock you out?'

Miranda chuckled. ‘As you know, we are Number Six. Further up the road at Number Ten there's a family with three sons, all working. It being Saturday they took themselves off for a river cruise and apparently had a grand day out, which included a great many bevvies – that means drinks – and a great deal of grub . . .'

‘That mean food,' Missie said, giggling. ‘So why your aunt locking door?'

Miranda laughed as well. ‘Whilst they were out their house was done over – robbed – so they alerted the scuffers and one of the young constables came round to the Close. He visited every house, including Number Six of course, warned them all that the McDonalds had been robbed, and advised everyone to lock up with special care. Of course Aunt Vi swore they thought I'd come in earlier, which would have meant they were locking me in, not out. I won't say Aunt Vi apologised, because she didn't, but my cousin Beth said she were real sorry and why hadn't I chucked gravel at the bedroom window or battered on the kitchen door to be let in. She's not bad, Beth; I do believe if it wasn't for Aunt Vi she and I could
have been friends. So you see it wasn't just spite, as I thought. In fact, if they hadn't locked me out you and I might never have spent the night talking, so I should be grateful to them.'

Missie nodded. ‘Well, that one mystery solved,' she said cheerfully. ‘We will have some of that vegetable stew for midday meal. Mrs Vernon will give us supper once we've told story to Mr Vernon.'

On their way to school next morning, Miranda regaled Steve with her doings. ‘Mr Grimshaw didn't scoff once, but listened to every word Missie had to say,' she told him. ‘And now that they've got the name of the ship, the police will go to the Port Authority and find out when the
Pride of the Sea
put in at Liverpool.'