The Meddlers (38 page)

“But not on our own,” Barbara said heavily. “It will have to be the police. Can you get them to keep quiet?”

“I’ll have to try. But—” He shook his head. “We’ve no choice. If it gets out, it gets out, and that’s all about it. Just keep those bloody reporters away from me, somehow, if it starts. Thank God at least Bridges couldn’t come today. I’ll have to put him off seeing tomorrow’s rerun somehow, unless—oh, to hell with that, we’ve got to get this moving, right now.”

  The two women sitting beside her had stopped talking to each other, and she felt their eyes on her and eased her arm gently against the weight of him, pulling the blanket higher to shade his face even more, and thought confusedly, I’ll have to think of somewhere soon. He’ll be getting hungry again.

“What a good little baby.” The voice was edged with curiosity. “Not a peep out of it in all this time. Shockin’ isn’t it, the way you ’ave to wait in these places? Is it a boy or girl, then? An’ not too ill, I ’ope?”

She raised her head and looked at the face beside her, a thin sharp face, the eyes probing, and involuntarily turned her shoulders to hide him and shrank back, staring stupidly at them both, at the fatter face peering over the bony shoulder of her immediate neighbor.
Her tongue felt thick and dry, and panic welled up in her. I mustn’t talk to anyone. I mustn’t talk—they’ll know who he is and take him away.

The two women exchanged a glance, and the fat one said softly, “It’s one of those immigrants, doesn’t talk no English, that’s what it is.” And the other one widened her mouth in comprehension and turned back and smiled and nodded exaggeratedly and said loudly and slowly, “Nice baby, nice baby?” And she put her hand out toward the burden in Isobel’s crooked arm.

But she reared back, knowing her fear was in her face, and the thin woman made a face and shrugged and turned away to her neighbor.

“Bloody foreigners, come ’ere, usin’ our ’ospitals for free. Makes you sick, don’t it? ’Oo’d be a poor bleedin’ taxpayer? Bad enough they can’t talk properly, can’t even be civil. You’d think I wanted to pinch her bloody kid, wouldn’t yer? Bleedin’ likely that is! Got enough little buggers o’ me own.” And the two of them laughed raucously and then put their heads closer together and went on gossiping, leaving Isobel trembling with reaction.

She looked up at the clock on the cracked white tiles of the waiting-room wall. A quarter past nine. He’d be wanting a feed soon, and she’d have to go somewhere. The waiting room was emptying now, only half a dozen people still sitting in lumpish patience, and even as she looked around, sliding her eyes sideways in an effort to be unobtrusive, the two women beside her got up in response to a beckoning nurse who had appeared at the swing doors and went importantly into the casualty room. The nurse looked back over her shoulder, and her eyes moved over the waiting-room benches. Counting people, Isobel thought. I’ll have to go soon, or they’ll talk to me, and then—I’ll have to go.

She saw the police car opposite the main gates as she moved out into the lamplit street, and she wanted to run. But she was stiff with the fatigue of the fear that had filled her for the past hours, still feeling the residue of the attack of shaking that had forced her to stop in the mercifully crowded casualty waiting room so short a time after she had walked out of the Unit, with no plan in her mind, only a stubborn need to go.

She could only move stolidly onward, unable either to hurry forward or turn back, and the policeman sitting in the front of the car let his eyes move over her and away without showing any concern. And she thought suddenly, It’s because I’m fat. Georgie’s so small in his blanket and I’m so big he didn’t even see I was carrying him, only saw my bag on my arm. And she felt better, even a little elated, as she reached the end of the street and merged with the hurrying crowds of the big main road, letting herself be swallowed up, just another part of the mass that was London.

  “We’ve got every railway station, every bus station, every main outlet there is under surveillance, sir,” the Inspector said patiently. “And I’ve put as many men as I can spare on checking rooming houses and hotels. But without a description of what she’s wearing—”

“I’ve told you already half a dozen times that we can’t—”

“Yes, sir. You don’t know. But you see the size of the problem. There’s over thirteen million people in the Greater London area alone, and by now”—he squinted up at the clock ticking ponderously on his office wall—“almost one A.M.—she could have covered a lot of ground. Got a lift, perhaps. Who knows? We’ve alerted all regions, but more than that… unless you let us try radio, as I suggested, and of course television when it starts tomorrow—later today, that is—”

“Christ, we’ve got to get him back before then, man! We’ve got to, or—”

“I can’t do more, sir. We could broadcast a message, as I said, in the first bulletins, and that often works the oracle. It’s up to you— at present, that is. Mind you, if we don’t find her soon, we’ll have to take it into our own hands. Abduction, you see. The way you feel about publicity is understandable, but abduction—it’s a criminal offense, and once we’re called in, we’ve got to treat it as such.”

“You’ll have to let them, George,” Barbara said softly. “It’s obviously true what the Inspector said. If they didn’t find her in the first couple of hours, every further hour that goes by makes it more and more difficult. It’ll have to get out or we’ll never get him back. George?”

He got up and shrugged on his coat. “Oh, all right, all right. Broadcast your message. If it’s the only thing you can do. But for Christ’s sake, let me have some protection from the press, will you? A few men at the hospital—”

“I haven’t got men to search
and
to do that, sir,” the Inspector said stolidly. “But I’ll do my best for you. I’ll see you at the hospital later this morning then, sir. The first message’ll go out with the six
A.M
. bulletin.”

  “It’s been very good of you,” Isobel said again. “But I must be going now. And thank you for the supper last night and all. I’d pay you if—”

“Forget it, ducky.” The woman pulled her dressing gown closer and yawned widely. “Forget it.” She peered through the open door at the thin morning darkness of the street and shivered.

“Sooner you nor me, ducks, at this hour. Sure you won’t ‘ang about a bit longer? Well, it’s up to you. And you take my advice, ducky, and shop the bastard. Throwin’ you out like that, an’ a poor little baby an’ all! You got your rights in common law, you know. I’ve ’ad some with the sods, and I know. You’ve got your rights. You tell the fuzz, ducks. Give the bastards somethin’ to do instead of goin’ after workin’ girls and driving ’em round the twist.”

She laughed and it spluttered into a cough, and Isobel murmured quickly, “Yes, yes, I will. And thanks again, I’m ever so grateful.” And she went out of the door to move as quickly as she could along the dirty pavement.

The woman in the dressing gown went back to her frowsty kitchen and turned on the gas under the kettle and lit her first cigarette before switching on the radio.

  “It’s not a lot that’s really much use, sir.” The Inspector, who looked as fresh and clean-shaven as though he’d spent the whole of the night in bed, making George very aware of his own crumpled red-eyed weariness, sounded gloomy. “There’s usually a few cranks claim to have something, but this time there’s been a real barrage. Calls from Edinburgh and Glasgow, seventeen from Bristol—even a bloke in a tuppenny-ha’penny village near Truro. Almost three
hundred altogether. There was one I was pretty hopeful of. A brass, er, a prostitute living on this patch claims she gave a bed for the night to a woman with a baby, supposed to have been thrown out by her man. But then she wanted to know who was paying for the lead—so there you are. There’s plenty of those. Think there’s a reward, you see. But we’ll check ’em all. Every one of ’em. We’ll get the child, sooner or later.”

And I hope it’s alive when we do, he thought, as he nodded at George and went out of the Unit and back to his car. The longer she’s gone, the worse the chances are. Spinsters and babies—God, but I hate these cases.

  “I had to finish surgery first, Miriam. I came as quickly as I could, but I had to clear the surgery. Now what is it? My God, you look grim. Come on, now, tell me about it. You were almost incoherent when you phoned.”

Miriam looked up at her stupidly and opened her mouth and then closed it again and shook her head and let the tears come again, spilling down her face, excoriating her aching eyes.

“I can’t. I—Norma, please—I’m ill. Please—”

“I can see you are! I can see. Now just relax, love, just relax and tell me what it is.”

Grunting slightly, she lowered her heavy body to her knees and put her hands on Miriam’s, tightly intertwined but shaking uncontrollably, and peered up at the ravaged face. “Tell me about it.” And her voice was professionally soothing.

“It—all for nothing, all for nothing. It made me into a whore— that’s what he said, said I was a whore, and it’s true, and now it’s all for nothing, all for nothing at all. I’m ill, help me, Norma. I’m ill—”

“Who said you were a—look, put your head forward, like this. That’s right, on your knees. And breathe deeply—deeply—good girl. You’ll feel calmer in a moment. Deep, now, and again. Good girl. Now, come on—to bed. Come and lie down in bed, and you’ll be better soon.”

Awkwardly, she led the shaking body across the room into the bedroom and heaved her up into the crumpled sheets and blankets,
and Miriam lay there, her eyes closed, and some of the color came back to her face as Norma brushed the hair back from her sweating forehead and murmured gently to her.

Then she opened her eyes again and said, “Norma?” her voice sharp with fear.

“I’m here. I’m here. Now tell me. What is it? What happened to do this to you? You’ll feel better if you tell me.”

“My face feels stiff. I can’t feel my face properly.” Miriam was touching her lips with one shaking hand. “I was so sick, and it hurt so, and I can’t feel my face properly.”

“I know. Just tell me. I’m listening.”

“He said it, you see, and I—it should have been all right. You said it would be all right, so I did—”

“I said what would be all right?”

“I had to finish it properly. A woman has to have a man if she has a baby. You said, didn’t you? So I did, and he said I was a whore, I ought to have got someone from the street, anyone, and I thought it would be all right after him and it wasn’t. And—oh, my God, it was all for nothing, all for nothing. It was on the radio this morning. You heard that? It was all for nothing.” And the tears came again, and she rolled her head from side to side on the pillow. “It was all for nothing, all for nothing, and I did it and—”

“Stop it, right now. Stop it!” Norma said sharply. “You’re not making sense. Now calm down, do you hear me? And tell me what it is, properly. What did I hear this morning? What was all for nothing?”

“The baby—it’s gone, and the whole thing’s ruined, it must be, now it’s gone. And he said—”

“What baby? Who said?”

“Mike. I did what you said, and I got a man. Because of the baby. I should have told you about it, but how could I? But you said a man, so I did. And he told me to get someone off the street, and I did—horrible, horrible, horrible.”

And again she rolled her head on the pillow, and this time Norma sat and looked at her and said nothing. Then she sighed softly and went back to the living room for her bag.

“I’m going to give you something to relax you, Miriam.” She
found the syringe and began to draw up the dose. “Just a small prick now—keep
still
—good girl. You’ll feel better soon, and you’ll sleep. Good girl.”

She sat beside her for a long time, watching, and gradually the restlessness stopped, and the whimpering died away, and then she was sleeping. Softly Norma stood up and went into the living room to pick up the telephone and dial a number.

“Psychiatric Unit, please,” she said quietly and looked back over her shoulder into the bedroom. Miriam was lying still, her heavy breathing clearly audible, and Norma spoke a little more loudly.

“Dr. Galleyman, please. John? Hello. Norma Gould. Fine, thanks. Yes, he’s fine too. Look, John, I’ve got a patient for you. An emergency. Can you find me a bed? Mmm. To be quite honest, I don’t really know. She’s in a very hysterical state—some sort of explosion or other. I’m not sure whether it’s exogenous or not— she’s quite incoherent. But there seems to be a paranoid element in it. She’s claiming to get messages from the radio. Quite. No, I don’t think she’s hallucinated, but it’s difficult to assess in the state she’s in. The thing is, she’s an old friend, a very bright girl, and this is most uncharacteristic behavior. Completely bizarre for the personality I know her to be. What? Oh, no. I’d much rather get her into your unit than send her to Friern. Yes, exactly. What? Oh, yes. I’ve given her Largactil. She’ll be easily handled, I think. I’ll stay with her anyway, until you send an ambulance. Right. Name—Miriam Lawton. Yes, L-A-W-T… yes. Age, er, twenty-six. Albert Street…”

“Right, Gorton, with that settled, there’s something else. The young man I sent to you last week—remember? Going to San Francisco. Yes. When? Hmm. I see. Can’t recoup that, then. What about the money—how did you arrange that? Ah! Excellent, excellent. Now I want you to make some new arrangements. Cable them. Yes, this morning, and cancel. That’s right. Cancel. They are not to give him a penny, you understand? Did he have any actual cash from you? Well, he’ll have to settle for that, though it won’t get him far. My dear Gorton, that’s his problem! At least we won’t waste any more money on him. Right. Thank you—oh, and by the way, it’s still not to be known, by anyone. Yes, yes. Of course. I was not suggesting you would. Just repeating the fact that the instruction still stands in spite of the cancellation of the funds. Yes.”