The Mind Readers (6 page)

Helena jerked the door open and looked up and down the track. It was completely deserted. The railway station was five miles away and the time was seven minutes past eleven.

THE MAIN LINE
approach to London from the east country has not changed in half a century. Just before one o'clock, as the party of boys travelling up from St Josephus, the preparatory school for Totham College, approached Liverpool Street Station the carriages were dark as in a winter's evening and outside the windows the soot-covered arches were as black and mysterious as the entrance to a thousand little tombs. The smell of the city, unbearably exciting and nostalgic to young Londoners, was already pervading the train, stinging eyes and noses and forcing itself into mouths sick and tired of fresh air and plain food.

The games-master who was in charge of the party, a square young man called Mason, not very long out of university, was smoking in the corridor where he could keep an eye on three compartments. Two of these were full, for the London contingent was strong this year, but in the third there were only two boys. He had thought it best to keep little Sam Ferris and his cousin apart from the rest. There had been too much chatter about the libel suit already and he did not want the child ragged. He was a sensitive little beast and there was no telling how seriously he was concerned by the whole infuriating business. The cousin, Edward Longfox, was a different type entirely. He was older of course, but young Mr Mason very much wondered if he had ever been very different even in his perambulator. He could see him now sitting in the corner closest to the corridor, his small shoulders hunched, his curiously wizened face expressionless and his flaming red hair burning in the gloom. The hair really was remarkable. Some children would have found it an intolerable affliction but young Longfox bore it as stoically as he did his name. They were both marks of distinction, of course, in their way. Richard Longfox the father had had a brilliant career as a scientist, and had made a reputation for himself before he met his untimely death on the Antarctic 507 expedition. In the opinion of the Head the boy had inherited his brains. The hair on the other hand, had come from his mother's family. She was Sophia, daughter of the Earl of Pontisbright, whose title had been revived so romantically in the nineteen thirties and whose family colouring was a legend. At the moment she was in South America with her father, and Edward was to spend the short holiday with another member of the clan, the Lady Amanda of Alandel Aeroplanes fame. She, of course, was married to that very odd character Albert Campion. It occurred to Mason that Edward would fit in with that family very well; the child looked like some sort of eccentric already.

He walked down the corridor and glanced in at Sam. The small boy was sitting opposite his cousin, a comic paper folded on his knee and his pink and white face as inscrutable as only children's are. Kids were like eggs at that age Mason reflected. God alone knew how each was going to hatch out later on.

At the moment Helena Ferris's son was angel-faced, with straw-coloured hair and eyes as grey as her own. He was sitting up straight on the edge of the seat, one sandalled foot stretched to touch the floor to ensure his balance as the train lurched over the points. He seemed as lost in thought as his cousin. Whereas the children in the other two compartments were swarming over the windows like caged puppies in a pet shop, these two were behaving like little old men engrossed by inner cares. The master was reminded again of the libel suit, and his irritation increased. He did not belong to that section of the Common Room which felt that Philip Allenbury was not justified in sueing ‘Tabloid' Pellett, the examiner, whatever the stupid old idiot had written to the Headmaster about him, but it seemed a pity that he could not vindicate himself without dragging the children into the quarrel. He was still thinking about the whole extraordinary business and wondering what on earth
had
happened, since, however one looked at them, the circumstances were pretty fishy, when the train lurched into the station and he was surrounded by a milling crowd.

The coach reserved for St Josephus was in the front of the train and came to rest under the footbridge so that the platform there was very narrow and darker even than the rest of the station. The train was full and the little crowd of relatives waiting for the boys was constantly broken up by the stream of travellers from the back. There was considerable confusion and the schoolmaster solved the problem by keeping his charges in the corridor and only letting each one out as an escort appeared for him. He was half way through the task when he came to the turn of a hatless young woman in decorated spectacles and a dark coat who spoke to him earnestly for a few seconds. The children in the train could not hear her but a trickle of anxiety ran through the throng and the message was passed back hastily. ‘Ferris and Longfox, Ferris and Longfox. Hurry. Come on. Buck up.'

Mason looked up from the platform as the two appeared. Although he was over eleven, Edward was no taller than his eight and a half year old cousin and they made a rather pathetic picture, their startled faces unnaturally solemn in the gloom, as they hung for a moment at the top of the steps looking at the woman who was clearly a stranger to them.

Mason lifted the younger boy down and beckoned to the other and they all stood for a moment beside the girl who was smiling encouragingly at the children.

The young man cleared his throat awkwardly, as anxious as the boys. ‘Look Ferris,' he said very gently. ‘This is Miss . . . ?'

‘Lewis,' she supplied quickly. ‘From the hospital.'

‘Yes, yes I see.' He tried to silence her. ‘But you told me it was not serious?'

‘No, it's not but she would like to see him. He should come with me now.' She put out a hand and took Sam's own. He submitted very meekly and said nothing at all but glanced sharply at his cousin who pressed forward.

‘We wondered if Mrs Ferris was going to meet us?' Edward said, revealing a husky voice unexpectedly precise from such a small person.

‘She's been detained.' Mason spoke before Miss Lewis could explain. ‘There has been a slight accident but it is not serious. His mother would like to see Sam and so he's going straight to her. You can manage on your own, can you Longfox?'

‘Or perhaps his cousin would come too?' Miss Lewis spoke briskly. It was evident that she was worried and anxious to get back. ‘It would be nice for the young one to have a friend with him.'

Mason hesitated. The situation sounded more serious than he had thought but before he could intervene Miss Lewis had smiled at Edward, who somewhat unexpectedly took her other hand and they all three hurried off down the platform to the ticket barrier.

Mason was claimed at once by the mother of one of the other boys and had no time to consider the incident although in the back of his mind he was uneasy. He wondered if he should have made the woman wait so that he could go with the boys himself, but meanwhile he was very fully occupied and Miss Lewis had certainly seemed in a hurry. He hoped nothing really frightful had happened to young Ferris's mum.

The hatless girl with the floating coat and the two boys, each of whom carried a small suitcase in his free hand, sped across the concrete in silence. The children made no attempt to speak and the woman seemed too worried, but once the barrier was passed and they climbed the footbridge and came down into the wide glass hall of the main departure platform she relaxed a little.

‘We have a nice big car waiting for us out in the street,' she said. ‘Do you know your way about here? We only have to go through the main booking hall and up the ramp and there it will be. You will see your mother very soon.'

Sam nodded. He was very white and had begun to tremble but he kept up with her, running a little when he had to as did Edward on her other side. There was nothing extraordinary in the picture they made. The whole station seemed to be dotted with striding women leading running children home for half term but since it was not crowded they got on very quickly.

The booking office, which is also the main entrance to the station, has two sets of large double doors leading to the covered way where the taxicabs wait, and beside the first set of these there stands as a rule a City of London police constable. The City police are taller than most and, as some say, even handsomer and more splendid.

P.C. Godfrey Hawkins, who was on duty on this occasion, was six foot four in his socks, in the prime of life and looking bored and magnificent as he stared idly over the heads of the stream of outgoing passengers, his helmet and silver buttons worthy emblems of authority.

A husky voice somewhere about his waist startled him suddenly and the astonishing statement it conveyed took him so completely by surprise that he reacted slowly.

‘Officer!' said the voice, young but unmistakable in background and temper. ‘I wish to give this lady in charge. She is attempting to kidnap me and my cousin.'

There was a flurry before him and Godfrey looked down to see a flash of red hair, two struggling children, a black coat whipping round someone wearing spectacles and then the second child broke free. He flung himself at the policeman's solid blue legs and hung on to one of them as if it had been a tree.

‘Look out!' The voice was high and shrill. ‘Look out. She's a spy!'

Everything which, as a policeman, he had ever learned about the irrepressible idiocy of the human boy leapt into the constable's mind and he was in the act of scooping young Sam to his feet with a few well chosen words about the inadvisability of behaving like a goat whilst dealing with the Law, when the incredible thing happened.

Miss Lewis took to her heels and fled up the hill towards the busy street, her coat flying out behind her and her shoes clattering on the pavement.

At the same moment a man who had been loitering in the shadow of the ticket bureau swept past the astounded little group and pressed on up the drive after her.

‘
OH DARLINGS!
I'M
so sorry!' Helena was trying to stop shivering. Despite the careful make-up and the golden wool suit, she looked dishevelled. She had been in an odd mood when she came in, and the news of the boys' adventure which had greeted her on arrival at the Rectory had shaken her self-control. ‘Please forgive me, Uncle Hubert, and you too, Amanda. It's really only because I'm so glad to get here. You don't know what Heaven this room is after the Island!'

She shot a watery smile at them across the table with its red chenille cloth, its square of crochet and the tea-tray bearing china strewn with flowers and a battered but glowing silver pot.

It was nearly six and the parlour was much as everyone present had always remembered it, homely and cosy and apparently for ever.

Canon Avril was sitting by the fire in his high-backed best chair. He was enormously interested and very happy indeed to see them. Opposite him in the window alcove sat the Lady Amanda, sister to the Earl of Pontisbright and to Lady Mary who was Helena's mother. She was a remarkable person who had made a career for herself in the late nineteen thirties and forties as one of the principal designers of Alandel Aeroplanes. Now she was still a slender woman with a heart-shaped face and clear light brown eyes. The blazing Pontisbright hair tends to grow darker with the years but there was still a glint of its smouldering fire in the sleek bob which hugged her round head. One of her chief charms was her voice which had remained as young as her enthusiasm, and now when she spoke it could have belonged to a girl.

‘Any shock is a tear-jerker,' she said. ‘We were so full of our story we just shot it at you as you appeared. Albert dashed down to Liverpool Street when the call came in from the Stationmaster, and he'd just telephoned back to say they were going on to Scotland Yard to look at the records when you arrived. Uncle Hubert and I were trying to work out how the boys could have been so clever.'

‘Just suppose they had gone with her!'

‘But they didn't,' said Avril, ‘they waited until they were in front of a policeman and acted together. Edward accused her and Sam backed his cousin up.'

‘What did he say?'

‘We don't know yet,' Amanda put in. ‘All we heard was that a woman tried to collect them and they saw through her. They'll be a bit above themselves if they've found her in the “Rogues Gallery”. I suppose she was hoping to demand ransom.'

Helena shuddered. ‘It could be something quite different. I wish they were home. Albert wouldn't keep them out, would he?'

Amanda grinned. ‘They wouldn't all go to the pictures, if that's what you mean. But as they're going to be in the building they might look up Charley Luke. That could take hours, especially if they wanted to talk too.'

The Canon glanced at the skeleton clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Albert will be here at any moment now,' he said. ‘A solicitor is calling to see Sam. Albert told me so himself. Why in the world does that child need a lawyer?'

‘It's the libel case, Uncle. Didn't they explain?'

‘No. I'm afraid we didn't. We'd only just arrived when the call from the station came in.' Amanda was apologetic. ‘I've said nothing since because it seems so mad. I should have thought both the school and the prep would have frowned at members of the common Room dragging each other into court.'

‘They do.' Helena seized on the new subject. ‘Sam's young form master at St Josephus, whose name is Philip Allenbury, has been forced to sue a retired English Master from Totham who was acting as a special examiner. It all happened last term—Sam's first. Sam is going to be asked to say that he saw Mr Allenbury open a briefcase which had been left on his desk and look at the examination paper prepared for one of the boys laid up in the sicker with a broken leg. It mattered terribly to the child because it meant he either did get into Totham or failed utterly. The examiner is old and a stinker and he made the accusation on paper to the Head. He also wrote to all the Governors.'