The Forget-Me-Not Summer (21 page)

Steve pulled a face. ‘But it's so long ago, Miranda! I don't want to put you off or make you miserable, but if I were a detective in a book I'd say the trail had gone cold.'

Miranda scowled at him. They were both members of the nearest library and enjoyed detective stories but, as she pointed out, these were works of fiction, and what she and Steve were discussing was real life.

‘Ye-es, but you can't deny that a year is a long time, and memories are short,' Steve argued. ‘Still, if the ship has returned to the 'Pool, at least we'll know about it.'

‘Yes. Mr Grimshaw's a man of his word, and the police will take him seriously, which is more than they would have done had you and I turned up on their doorstep,' Miranda agreed. ‘And as for Missie telling her story herself . . .'

By now they were approaching their school gates and
Steve shouted to a group of boys ahead of them to wait for him. Then he turned to Miranda. ‘Are we going to Jamaica House after school?' he asked. ‘I know it's going to take Mr Grimshaw a day or two to fix up the flat in Russell Street – especially now you've given him another job of work, poor man – but there might be something we can do to help Missie get ready.'

In fact it was some time before Missie moved into her new abode. She was very nervous at first and begged Mr Grimshaw to allow her to share her grand new premises with Miranda and Timmy. ‘Miranda very unhappy with aunt and Timmy unhappy without Miranda,' she said, and went on to explain that she still feared Captain Hogg would discover her whereabouts and burst in to carry her off.

Miranda had listened hopefully, for already she loved the neat little flat and would have been happy to live in it even for a few weeks, but Mr Grimshaw, though he understood their feelings, had shaken his head reluctantly. ‘No, no, my dear Missie. Her aunt may not value Miranda as she should, but she would be as curious as anyone else if her niece suddenly found a flat share with an unknown West Indian woman! Now, it seems your Captain Hogg is suspected of a good many misdemeanours, though the Port Authority knew nothing about any kidnapping activities. Apparently, he only came into Liverpool for an engine part. That was his declared reason, anyway, and he left on the tide the day following his arrival, so very little interest was taken by the authorities on this occasion. But the date matches your mother's disappearance, Miranda, and once they started asking questions it soon became clear that the ship was notorious
for slipping in and out of harbour without paying her dues, for loading shipments meant for other vessels, and similar offences.' He had smiled kindly at Miranda, and patted her on the shoulder. ‘I think it's quite possible that your mother was seized by the captain, my child, but until we can trace the ship's movements we have no way of ascertaining her present whereabouts, if indeed it was Mrs Lovage Missie saw that night.'

Later, when Steve, Missie and Miranda were alone in the flat, with Timmy curled up on the hearthrug, they decided that discussing the matter was pointless. Instead, they would wait for solid news of the ship's first port of call, for Mr Grimshaw had promised that his investigations would start there. ‘And as soon as we've seen you off on a ship bound for home, Missie, I shall leave school and get a job in one of the factories, and start saving up,' Miranda planned. ‘I know there's been a depression – still is – but everyone seems convinced that there's a war coming and factories are being built to make uniforms and guns and wireless sets, that sort of thing. Beth is talking about leaving her job and going into either the services or a munitions factory, because they pay twice what she's getting from old Mrs Seymour, so I mean to do the same. If my mother is like you, Missie, desperate to get home but unable to raise the cash, then I shall jolly well get on a ship as soon as I've saved enough, and take her the money myself.'

‘Three cheers for Miranda Lovage!' Steve said ironically. ‘I never knew your mother, but that scuffer, the one who caught you sleepwalking, told me she was a real beauty with primrose-coloured hair, clear blue eyes and a very curvy figure. If you ask me she could get a job even if she'd landed on the moon!'

Miranda noticed Missie giving Steve a warning look, and for the first time it occurred to her that her mother's beauty might not be the asset she had imagined. She gave Steve a penetrating stare but he met her eyes frankly, his own faintly puzzled, and she realised that he had not understood Missie's glare either.

‘What's up?' he asked, and then, as neither of his companions answered, he shrugged. ‘Have your secrets then,' he said huffily. ‘And it's time we were heading home, Miranda.'

As Mr Grimshaw had warned them, arranging for Missie to travel legally from England to her home took time. She had been presumed dead and had to prove that she was not an impostor, though this seemed daft to Miranda; what was the advantage in perpetrating such a fraud? Autumn was well advanced when at last Missie's passage was arranged, and when Mr Grimshaw disclosed that his brother had been overjoyed to hear that Missie was still alive, and had immediately offered to take her back into his employment when she returned, Miranda knew that her visits to the little flat above the bicycle shop would soon be a thing of the past. Regretfully, she guessed that this would also mean she could scarcely keep popping over to Holmwood Lodge; she did this a lot, particularly at weekends when the boys were visiting, and she had grown friendly with them both. Julian and Gerald seemed to enjoy Steve and Miranda's company, despite their different stations in life. For one thing, Steve had got a job upon leaving school, at one of the big factories making parts for aero engines, and talked of joining the Royal Air Force as soon as he was eighteen,
whereas Julian and Gerald knew nothing of the world of work, though they had both joined the junior division of the OTC.

Steve had always been generous, and now that he was earning he bought little presents for Miranda and took her on theatre and cinema trips, for meals in cafés and similar treats. Miranda felt guilty for accepting his hospitality so often and confided in Mrs Grimshaw her plan to leave school and apply for a factory job as soon as Missie had gone home. ‘At first I thought of getting a room in a hostel, but there are lots of girls in the city looking for a flat share,' she told the older woman. ‘Perhaps two or three of us could club together and take on Missie's place. I wonder if my cousin Beth might want to join us. Of course living at home is much cheaper because she doesn't have to pay her mum rent, and not a great deal for her keep either, but there was a big row the other day over Beth's telling whoppers. She told Aunt Vi she'd been to a dance at the Grafton with Spotty Wade, and then Aunt Vi discovered that Herbert had been working that night so Beth had gone by herself and picked up some foreign sailor whose ship was in port. Aunt Vi wouldn't have known anything about it only Curly Danvers, who lives further up the Close, met her in the fish shop and commented that Beth seemed to have got herself an officer, and a good-looking one at that.' Miranda hesitated; there was something she longed to ask but she was not sure whether it would be polite to do so. However, she and Mrs Grimshaw were companionably washing up the tea things whilst the boys played snooker in the games room, and she decided to take a chance. She and her hostess had grown easy with one
another during the past weeks, so now Miranda braced herself and voiced the question. ‘Mrs Grimshaw, would you mind telling me what sort of rent the owner would ask for the flat?'

‘My dear child, I've no idea what the rent of the flat would be, but I'm sure my husband could tell you,' Mrs Grimshaw said. ‘But, you know, Mr Grimshaw and I have talked about your future many times, and we think it would be a great waste for you to abandon your education without even attempting to get your School Certificate. I can understand your wanting to earn money of your own . . .'

Miranda interrupted her. ‘I wouldn't be abandoning my education, honest to God I wouldn't,' she said eagerly. ‘My mother was always on about the importance of what she called “that little bit of paper”, so I thought I'd enrol at the technical college for evening classes. You can get all sorts of qualifications from there whilst earning at the same time.'

Mrs Grimshaw nodded. ‘Yes, I know.' She emptied the water in her bowl down the sink, dried her hands on a tea towel and patted Miranda's cheek. ‘My dear, Mr Grimshaw and I are willing to help you establish yourself with a career and a place of your own; so we would arrange for Mr Huxtable – he's the young man who owns the bicycle shop – to let you take on the flat at a reasonable rent. Mr Grimshaw needs an office girl, and though the salary is small the hours are nine till five, much more suitable than a factory for a girl studying for her certificate.'

Miranda stared at Mrs Grimshaw open-mouthed, and when she spoke her voice was husky. ‘You've been so
good to me already that I feel quite guilty,' she said. ‘But I can't accept a cheap rent at your expense, it really wouldn't be fair. And I know all about key money! If you can tell me how much we should be expected to pay, I'm sure I can get two or three girls interested in flat sharing; then we could pay the rent between us. And I'd work very hard at my evening classes, honest to God I would.'

Mrs Grimshaw began to collect the clean cutlery and crockery and replace it on the shelves. She said, without looking round: ‘Suppose we were to call the key money a loan? Would you feel more comfortable with that? I think a flat share is a grand idea, but not with three or four of you sharing the place. You and one other could be comfortable, couldn't you?'

‘Oh
yes
,' Miranda said eagerly. ‘And we'd pay you back just as soon as we could.'

Miranda awoke. She twitched back the bedroom curtains to let in the early sunshine, then wondered for a moment why she had not immediately rolled out of bed, for usually she liked to be downstairs and making some sort of breakfast for herself before Beth and her aunt woke up. Then she remembered. Today was leaving day; Missie's passage was booked, her packing done, and the little flat cleaned to within an inch of its life, for Missie was determined that the Grimshaws should not find one speck of dust in her dear little flat. They had all arranged to be down at the docks when Missie left, although it meant that the boys would have to sag off school. However, Steve had arranged to get a day off from his factory and Miranda herself was what you might call ‘in
between', since she had left school at the end of the previous week and would not start her job in Mr Grimshaw's office until the following Monday.

Since the Grimshaws had been determined to do everything properly, Mr Grimshaw had visited Aunt Vi to explain that he and his wife intended to help Miranda as she began to gain her independence. He had somehow made it appear that he had known Miranda's mother and was doing it for Arabella's sake; at any rate, that was the explanation which Aunt Vi gave to everyone, adding that the kid had certainly fallen on her feet, since the Grimshaws were also giving her a job and had offered to pay for her to attend evening classes.

So now Miranda lay on her back contemplating the pale sunshine and the blue of the sky which she could see through the crack in the curtains, and thinking that Missie would at least start her voyage in cold but pleasant weather conditions. But presently, despite telling herself that she deserved a lie-in, for the ship did not depart until noon, she rolled out of bed, padded to the washstand and began vigorously washing. She had ironed her best cotton frock the night before and thought that she would wear the little red jacket which Steve had bought her from Paddy's Market with his very first wages. She had noticed how his face lit up whenever she wore it, and she reflected that meeting Steve and becoming his friend was the best day's work she had ever done. He had never let her down, and continued to accompany her to the Port Authority when she went each week in the hope that the
Pride of the Sea
might have berthed somewhere along the British coast. Others had given up, but Miranda knew that Mr Grimshaw had not, and was
beginning to believe that Captain Hogg must have changed the name of the ship. ‘I've written fifty or sixty letters and contacted just about everyone who might be able to give me some information,' he had told Miranda. ‘But ships need papers, just as people do, and sooner or later, whatever they call her, we'll root her out and bring Hogg to account. No doubt he'll claim ignorance, but with a crew such as his there's bound to be one of them who can be bought. Yes, once we've run the ship to earth, I'm very hopeful we shall find out what happened to your mother.'

But that day had not yet arrived, although Miranda still could not help connecting Missie's plight with Arabella's. Missie had remained hidden for a very long time, so why should not Arabella also be tucked away somewhere out of sight? Accordingly, Miranda had got one of the actresses who had worked with her mother to sketch Arabella's likeness and had pressed the picture into Missie's hand. ‘If you see anyone, anyone at all, who looks like this, will you ask her if she's Arabella Lovage?' she said urgently. ‘Steve said the captain and his mate might have given her some sort of drug, and she might have lost her memory. If you do see her, Missie, and tell her about me, surely that would be enough to make her remember?'

Now, having washed and dressed as quietly as possible so as not to wake Beth and Aunt Vi, she tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was the work of a moment to put the kettle on the range and cut herself a thick wedge of bread which she spread with the jam Missie had made from the fruit in the garden of Jamaica House. Having breakfasted, Miranda made a pot of tea
and carried it upstairs. Beth had just woken and greeted the tea with enthusiasm, but Aunt Vi just grunted and rolled over. ‘I aren't gerrin' up yet,' she mumbled. ‘Bring me some hot water up, and mebbe I'll have a wash.'