Through Glass Eyes (25 page)

Three days later, James and Constable Merrifield drove to the antique shop where the toy soldiers were still lined up in the window.

The dealer remembered James but was not pleased when he learned the purpose of the return visit. After presenting the proprietor with a list, the constable informed him that selling stolen property was an offence and that the goods were to be confiscated. The shopkeeper was irate and insisted he had bought them from the market stall in good faith, unaware they’d been stolen.

The only consolation the officer could offer him was that when the matter got to court, the onus would probably fall on the stall holder. He said the police had questioned him the previous day and in his opinion, the man was lying when he said he didn’t know the goods were stolen.

After placing all the recovered items into four large boxes, James loaded them onto the back seat of the car while the policeman took down the antique dealer’s personal details. Glancing in the car’s mirror as they drove away, James could see the man standing in the road shaking his fist and cursing.

With only six items unaccounted for, James felt pleased. He presumed the missing items had been sold and that the probability of tracing them was unlikely. The fact the stolen goods would be held at the station until the case was brought before the magistrate, didn’t worry James. He was, however, disappointed the man who called himself Wilkinson had not been apprehended, and the constable had grave doubts the man would ever be caught.

‘If he’s the same Wilkinson we had around these parts a while ago, he’s a slippery customer and if he gets the slightest whiff we’re onto him, he’ll be off like a flash!’

James felt pleased he had been able to resolve the matter without worrying his mother while she was away. He had not written to tell her about the burglary as she could do little from overseas. To his knowledge, nothing of value had been taken from her cottage and, as almost all the goods had been recovered, he doubted he would bother mentioning the burglary at all.

An invitation was extended to all the first-class passengers on board to attend a shipboard party to celebrate Lucy Oldfield’s marriage to Cyril Street. From early evening champagne corks popped and the small orchestra in the grand ballroom played non-stop – popular tunes interspersed with leisurely old waltzes. It was an elegant party with garlands of flowers, coloured streamers and balloons, dull in comparison with the flash of diamonds and the shimmer of sequins which glittered from the ladies’ ball gowns.

It was not until the early hours of the morning that Lucy and Cyril escaped to the cool air of the promenade deck. Around her shoulders Lucy wore a short mink cape, a wedding gift from Cyril.

Standing on the after-deck, gazing across the waters of Bass Strait, they could see the cliffs of the Australian coastline shining in the moonlight.

‘Like the white cliffs of Dover,’ Cyril said, putting his arm around his new wife. ‘Happy?’ he asked.

Lucy nodded.

‘Homesick?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Home is where the heart is, isn’t that what you say?’

Chapter 25

Home Again

Grace grew increasingly anxious when she heard Alice was planning to move back into Pansy’s old cottage, whereas James was delighted at the prospect and mentioned the fact almost every day. Though always busy, he made time to weed Alice’s garden, even though their own garden and Lucy’s were equally overgrown. He also washed the downstairs windows of the end cottage and replaced the hinges on the gate which Crowther had broken. Though she never said anything, Grace couldn’t help feeling slightly jealous. Would James want to spend time with Alice when she came back? And would Crowther reappear and start bothering them?

As each day passed, she found it harder to hide her feelings, and the idea of moving back to the farm became more and more appealing. If they stayed in the cottage she knew she would feel vulnerable. Alice was a clever girl, a nursing sister, well educated, and always well dressed. Alice was also intelligent and nicely spoken, while she was just a farmer’s daughter, who had left school at twelve and who could boast no fancy clothes or ways. Alice was not only pretty and slim, but, even in her white satin nurse’s shoes, was taller than her. The baggy trousers, Grace wore every day, the broad leather belt and mud laden Wellington boots, made her look even shorter and fatter than she really was and, the fact she was pregnant, didn’t help matters.

‘Who cares what someone wears! I don’t!’ said James, pulling his wife to him and hugging her. ‘You always look smashing to me. And besides,’ he said, ‘in a few months’ time, when the baby’s due, you’ll be glad to have Alice around.’

Grace smiled and kissed him. As usual, he was right and she was being foolish, but she found it difficult to talk to him about her feelings. He and Alice had grown up together and were as close as any brother and sister, and, because of that, it appeared to Grace that James’s instinct would be to defend Alice whatever happened.

Two things puzzled Grace, though. Why had Alice left Rachel to be brought up by Pansy in Ilkley? And why was she now planning to move back into the cottage on her own, yet not bringing Rachel with her?

‘Seems odd to me,’ Grace said casually, ‘not having the little lass with her. I can promise, when I have the baby, I won’t let her out of my sight.’

‘And what will you do when you’re milking?’ James joked.

‘She can sit on a stool and watch. Never too soon to learn!’

‘It’s going to be a girl, is it?’

‘Of course,’ said Grace, rubbing her hands across her belly.

‘Is there anything else of yours in here?’ James asked, as Alice rummaged through the four large boxes which he had just collected from the police station.

‘The rest of these things came from your mother’s place,’ Alice said. ‘Including this.’ As she spoke she pulled the old doll out of the box. The lace trim on the frock had yellowed and the black goat skin pate looked stark against the pale bisque cheeks. Laying it gently on the table, Alice watched as the eyelashes closed across the luminous blue eyes.

‘I loved this doll when I was young,’ she said. ‘When I was afraid of the dark, I would take her to bed with me and talk to her under the covers. I didn’t feel scared when she was with me. I suppose I thought she was real.’ She turned and smiled at Grace. ‘Silly isn’t it, how you think when you are a child.’

Grace nodded and smiled sadly, but her eyes were not on the dilapidated doll, she was looking at the hands holding it, ugly hands, the skin coiled and scarred from being burnt.

‘Why don’t you keep it?’ James said, closing the box’s lid. ‘Mum gave it to you, didn’t she? And she’s no reason to want it now.’

Alice held the doll to her chest and thanked James saying it would be nice to have its company in the empty house. Grace offered to help her unpack her suitcases, but Alice preferred to manage alone.

The rain, which had started soon after she arrived, was getting heavier. Alice ran back to her cottage trying to avoid the puddles and streams forming on the lane. But the water splashed over her shoes and saturated her stockings. As she neared the front door, she was annoyed with herself. She noticed she hadn’t closed it properly and the rain was blowing in. The cottage was chilly enough already. It had suffered from being left vacant and always felt cold and damp, and a smell of mould permanently hung in the air.

After rubbing the rain from her hair and drying the doll’s head, Alice kicked off her shoes and ran upstairs to find her slippers. As she walked across the bedroom her toes squelched on the bedside rug. It was sopping wet. Looking up she could see water dripping from around the man-hole which led up into the roof.

Why was the ceiling wet? There was no window in the attic. Nowhere the rain could blow in from. As she stood pondering over it, drops of water dripped down to the already saturated rug.

Hurrying to the kitchen, she returned with a stack of pans and bowls and placed them around the floor like stepping stones. In the morning she would tell James; ask him to climb into the roof cavity to investigate the leak. Perhaps when the tree branches were moving in the wind, they had dislodged one of the slate shingles. Whatever the reason she knew James would fix it, but as she unpacked her clothes and hung them neatly in the wardrobe, she could not escape the constant
plop-plopping
of the water as it dripped into the pans.

It was hard for Alice to get to sleep that night. Rain lashed against the window and water continued to seep in. Across the roof, the tree branches scraped eerily on the shingles and in the white flashes of the storm, the blot of mottled mould on the ceiling appeared to move and roll like a gathering thundercloud.

As she pulled the doll into bed beside her, its lids slid over the luminescent eyes, but it was well over two hours before Alice’s eyes closed.

James knocked on Alice’s door at midnight, and Andrew Oldfield was born two hours later. His arrival was three weeks earlier than expected and Grace was relieved Alice had been there to help her.

As the day dawned, James felt guilty knowing Alice was on duty that day at the hospital. But Alice would hear nothing of his concern. She was used to not getting much sleep and besides, she was pleased to assist the new baby into the world.

The River Wharfe meandered lazily. Sunlight bursting through the trees flickered on the fresh green leaves and glinted on the water. The woodland path was soft underfoot. To the left, the lush ground was a carpet of blue. Masses of bell-shaped flowers bowed their heads towards the earth shedding tears of morning dew. To the right was the river. A pair of squirrels raced along the path, stopped for a moment, tails erect, then scampered across of mesh of twisted roots and up the crumpled bark of an ageing tree. In the silence of the woods the sounds of birds echoed in the still morning air.

Alice loved her weekly visits to Ilkley, especially in spring. Rising before dawn, she would catch the early train so she could share breakfast with her mother and Rachel. But as soon as the meal was cleared away, they would pack a picnic and set off for the day. Miss Pugh’s big house was dark, cold and rather depressing and it had a distinct musty smell which reminded her of the hospital. So, unless the weather was really inclement, she always preferred to go out. Alice sympathized with the spinster’s mental condition, and admired her mother for looking after her, but was relieved her great-aunt never asked if she could join them.

On the days they spent together, Alice, Rachel and Pansy walked for miles in countryside around Ilkley. Pansy still appeared thin and frail, but was active and surprised her daughter. Little Rachel could walk well too until she was tired, then the two women would take turns to carry her on their backs.

If the ground was not too slippery, they would take the steep path up the side of Heber’s Ghyll, the stream which arose on the moors and gurgled down through the shaded undergrowth to the river in the valley. At the top of the ghyll, where the trees stopped and the moors began, they would stop and drink the crystal water pouring from a freshwater spring, or ponder the ancient shapes carved on the weathered stones.

When it was fine, they would hike through the heather to the Cow and Calf rocks, always stopping at the bottom of the cliff face, never venturing to climb. Some days they would stroll down to the River Wharfe and wander across the meadows through which the river meandered. Sometimes, when they reached a pebbled beach, Rachel would paddle in the shallow water whilst the two women sat and chatted, gazing contentedly at the river winding lazily by.

‘I’ve decided I’m going to leave the hospital,’ Alice said, to her mother, as Rachel danced in the bed of bluebells. ‘I’ll get a day job, like the one I had in the nursing home. I want Rachel living at home with me before she’s too old.’

Pansy squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m pleased to hear you say that, dear. I love the little lass, but I know she misses you. It’s only right she should be with you.’

‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Now I’m settled back at the cottage it seems the obvious thing to do.’ Alice sighed, as she voiced her thoughts out loud. ‘Over the years I’ve been too involved with work. But, now it doesn’t seem important any more.’

‘But you’ve been a good nurse and your training won’t go astray.’

‘I know,’ said Alice. ‘But I wish I hadn’t been so blind.’

Rachel presented her grandmother with a bunch of bluebells before running back into the glade to gather more.

‘Little Andrew is already walking and Grace is expecting another baby around Christmas time. Which means Rachel will have someone to play with at last.’

‘I’m pleased, Alice. But I’ll miss her.’

‘Then you must come to the cottage and stay with us.’

‘It’s hard for me to leave my aunt for long. The old dear is apt to go wandering, if I’m not around.’

Alice looked disappointed.

‘But we’ll see. You never know what’s round the corner.’

As the sun’s rays poured between the treetops, Alice and Pansy ambled along the path hand in hand. Knee-deep in blue-bells, the child wandered through the woodland, stopping at times to pick another flower. A pair of chaffinches, busy at their nest, attracted her attention. A dragonfly hovered in the air, then darted away. She heard a cuckoo and watched as a butterfly settle on the flowers in her hand. Above her head she saw a cloud of tiny flies, and when she heard the bushes rustling she looked around expecting to see a squirrel scampering up a tree.

Engrossed in conversation, the women wandered on, their minds removed from the sights and sounds of the river-bank. They didn’t hear the startled shriek of a bird or the crack of dead twigs being broken underfoot. They didn’t see the man who was following them, loitering in the undergrowth.

Chapter 26

The Car