Without a Trace (37 page)

‘You didn’t think there was something funny about George coming to rescue me, did you?’ she asked, thinking that might be why he was being so chilly. ‘I’ve known him since I was five, and I only wrote to him about getting a lead on Cassie’s family because he worked on the case when she was killed and Petal disappeared.’

‘Why would I think there was something funny about you keeping in touch with him?’ he asked, but his eyes seemed cold and he didn’t flash that brilliant smile of his.

‘Well, you don’t seem your usual self,’ she said. ‘But then, I’m not exactly my old self either, what with the bald patch and Petal being tucked in here with me. Say hullo to Uncle Charley,’ she said to the child, who was sitting on the end of her bed doing some colouring.

‘I’m not her uncle,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m not her aunt either, really, but I hope she’ll always think of us that way and come to stay with us when we get married.’

Charley didn’t respond, and the brooding silence was as startling as a cold shower.

Molly couldn’t think of any reason why he should be like this and she was cut to the quick.

‘Why don’t you go out the door, turn round and come in again as the Charley I know,’ she said, hoping that would break the ice.

‘I don’t think I can do that now,’ he said.

‘What, go out and come in again?’

‘No, I mean, get married,’ he said. ‘I said it without thinking it through. It was a bad idea. I have to work away too much to settle down.’

‘But you said you were going to get work in Ashford or Hastings,’ Molly said in puzzlement.

‘Yes, I know. I didn’t think that through either. It wouldn’t work.’

She looked hard at him. It crossed her mind that he couldn’t be the kind, lovable Charley she knew but an imposter who looked like him. Her Charley would’ve swept her into his arms, wanted to know every last detail about what she’d been through. He certainly wouldn’t be telling her he’d had second thoughts about their future.

‘Are you trying to tell me it’s over?’ she asked, though she didn’t believe he could be.

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers, his mouth was set in a straight line and, all at once, she realized that was exactly what he’d been trying to say.

‘Yes, I guess so,’ he muttered, hanging his head. ‘It’s just too hard with you being down here and me in London.’

She wanted to cry, to tell him she loved him and he was making a big mistake. But she wasn’t going to allow herself to do that. Firstly, it would upset Petal; she might even think it was her fault. Secondly, she had too much pride to beg.

‘Just go now, Charley,’ she said firmly. ‘I thought we had something special. It seems I was wrong. Silly of me.’

‘I’m sorry, Molly,’ he said, and it came out like a whimper. ‘I was never the man you thought I was. It’s better this way.’

He left quickly then, and Molly lay back on the pillows and tried to smile at Petal. ‘Men, eh!’ she said. ‘Looks like I had a lucky escape from that one.’

Petal moved up the bed and lay down beside Molly. ‘You’ve still got Uncle George, and he’s much nicer than that man.’

George came in later to say goodbye, as he was driving home in the morning.

‘You’ve been crying!’ he exclaimed, noting her puffy eyes. ‘Is your head hurting?’

She
had
been crying. Petal had gone with a nurse to help with the tea trolley and, as soon as she had, Molly found she couldn’t hold back her hurt and disappointment about Charley, and she cried buckets. ‘No, my head is okay – sore, but not too bad. It’s just Petal. I can’t bear to think of her being put in a children’s home.’

‘Nor me,’ he agreed. ‘It’s not right after what she’s been through. Nice foster parents would be all right, though. I wondered if I could put out some feelers in Sawbridge when I get back. It will be in the papers tomorrow that she’s been found, and people in the village will be very happy about that.’

Molly smiled weakly at him. He meant what he said. He always did. And he was right: foster parents in Sawbridge would be ideal. Petal would see her old friends and teachers again, and be accepted, too, which might not happen as readily elsewhere.

‘I’ll suggest it to the social worker,’ she said. ‘And pass on your telephone number to her.’

‘Is that all that’s upsetting you?’ asked George then, picking up her hand and playing with her fingers. ‘Did Charley come to visit?’

‘I should have mentioned him in my letters,’ she said, realizing that Ted and Evelyn Bridgenorth must have told him she had a boyfriend. She hoped they hadn’t said it was a serious romance. ‘I didn’t say anything because I suspected it wouldn’t last, and I was right. He just told me he made a mistake thinking we had a future together, he works away too much. Or maybe he just didn’t like my bald patch. Anyway, it’s over.’

He looked at her in puzzlement for a moment or two.

‘I’m so sorry, Molly,’ he said. ‘You might not have said anything to me, but I got the idea from the Bridgenorths he was important to you. All I can say is that he’s an idiot and doesn’t know a real gem when he finds one.’

‘I think I saw something in him that wasn’t really there,’ she said glumly. ‘His timing is terrible, though. You’d think he’d have waited till I was out of hospital. He didn’t even ask me anything about what happened at Mulberry House.’

George sat on the bed and scooped her into his arms, rocking her gently for a few moments. He smelled really lovely, of fresh air and some kind of perfumed soap. She didn’t want the hug to end, even if it was making her feel weepy again.

‘Come home for a few days and rest?’ he suggested after a few minutes. ‘My mum’s offered to put you up, and you could see your mum, too. I rang her this morning to give her a progress report. She sent her love and said how much she wanted to see you.’

‘That sounds lovely, but I’ll have to talk to the Bridgenorths. It’s coming up for their busy time.’

‘I think you’ll find they’ll insist you have a break,’ he said. ‘They are very fond of you, Molly. They told me last night that you are the perfect employee – adaptable, good-natured, intuitive and totally reliable. They believe you could manage a hotel yourself with just a little more experience. Does that cheer you up?’

‘You cheer me up, George,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. ‘You’ve been the best of friends.’

George turned to her, intending to kiss her on the lips, but Petal came running in just then and hurled herself at him, forcing him to turn away from Molly and pick the child up.

‘I was telling the nurse I had a ride on your motorbike,’ Petal said excitedly. ‘Can I have another ride soon?’

Molly smiled. Petal appeared almost back to normal today, but of course her happy mood might end as suddenly as it had come. But it was good to see her trusting enough to perch on George’s lap. He had a way with children. In fact, now she thought about it, he had a way with everyone.

‘I can’t make any promises, because I’ve got to go home tomorrow and be a policeman again,’ he said, stroking Petal’s hair tenderly in a way that made Molly want to cry again. ‘But I’m hoping I can take you for a ride very soon.’

When George left a little later, he bent over to kiss Molly on the lips, lingering just long enough for Molly to feel a little flutter inside her.

‘Look after yourself and, if you want to come home for a holiday, just ring.’

‘I never said how marvellous it was that you rode all that way to rescue me,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘You did very well just on your own.’ He smiled. ‘Picking locks, walloping Miss Gribble and getting Petal away from there. Just wait till I get back and tell the lads at the station.’

‘I wish –’ she broke off, afraid to say what had popped into her head.

‘You wish what?’ he asked.

‘Wishes don’t come true if you tell them. And you’d better get going before the nurse chases you out. Visiting time is over.’

He had only been gone ten minutes when a nurse came in and told her there was a telephone call for her in sister’s office.

Molly hurried there, wondering if it would be her mother, but it was Evelyn Bridgenorth. ‘I just wanted to tell you I’ve asked the Children’s Department if Petal can stay with us until they find the right permanent home for her,’ she said.‘

And they agreed?’ Molly asked, amazed her employer would be so kind.

‘Well, they haven’t actually signed on the dotted line, or whatever it is they do, but they’ve agreed in principle. They do realize she’s likely to have a serious setback if she goes to a stranger, and although they pointed out that licensed premises are not the ideal choice of home, they feel the bond you have with her more than makes up for that.’

‘That’s the best news ever,’ Molly gasped. ‘But are
you
sure about this? It’s a big commitment.’

‘We were rather selfishly thinking you’d do most of the taking care of her,’ Evelyn said, with laughter in her voice. ‘Once the doctors feel she’s fit enough, she’ll go to the primary school, anyway. But it’s mealtimes, after school and weekends that she’ll need you. Obviously, we’ll adjust your hotel duties to fit in. How does that sound?’

‘Marvellous,’ Molly said, suddenly feeling like whooping with joy. ‘I was worried sick about where they would send her. She’s going to be so happy. And so am I.’

‘And she deserves to be. Of course, it won’t be permanent, only till they feel she’s stable and they’ve got the right foster parents for her.’

‘Sister said earlier that there’s a possibility they might discharge us both tomorrow. Will we know then for sure?’

‘Yes, don’t worry. Just ring the hotel if they say you can come home, and Ted will come and get you. You and I will need to pick out some clothes and toys for Petal. I’m looking forward to that.’

‘I’m looking forward to being back at the George,’ Molly said.

‘Not half as much as we’re looking forward to you coming back,’ Evelyn said. ‘All the staff and customers have been pestering us for news. You’ve become quite a celebrity.’

CHAPTER TWENTY

‘Miss Gribble!’ DI Pople snapped at the woman on the other side of the desk. She had closed her eyes, as if to shut him out. ‘You don’t seem to appreciate how much trouble you are in. Murder, abduction, imprisoning and ill-treating a young child and assault and imprisoning an adult. You could hang for this. But, whatever you’ve done, I want to know the reasons for it. It’s only by cooperating with me fully that there is any possibility that you will find some sympathy with a jury when this comes to trial.’

Her eyes opened. ‘I never meant to kill anyone,’ she said woodenly. ‘I was trying to put things right.’

‘I fail to see how any of your actions could be seen as an attempt to put things right,’ DI Pople said. ‘But maybe if you went back to the beginning, from the time of Petal’s birth, and explained how things were then, when, presumably, your mistress, Mrs Coleman, was in full command of her senses, I could understand.’

Miss Gribble had been kept in hospital in a private room for a week after the police had arrested her at Mulberry House. Her facial injuries were not serious but she had lost consciousness and, as she suffered from angina, the doctors felt she should stay under observation, though with a police guard outside the room.

She had refused to say anything while in the hospital: no explanation, no denial, nothing. She wouldn’t even speak to
the nurses. On her discharge she was taken back to the police station and a solicitor was called for her, but she still refused to talk. Finally, she was charged with murder and abduction and taken to court, where she was remanded in custody.

Owing to the seriousness of her alleged crimes, she was being held in London’s Holloway Prison, and this was DI Pople’s third visit there to try to get her to talk. But today she seemed to be weakening just a little, enough to make him hopeful.

‘As I understand it, you have been housekeeper, companion and friend to Christabel Coleman for over forty years,’ DI Pople said, trying a different tack. ‘I can understand that you formed a strong bond during that time. You were there when her father was killed in the Great War, you helped Christabel through her mother’s death, the birth of Sylvia and, a few years later, when Mr Coleman, Christabel’s husband, was reported missing, presumed killed in action in the last war, you remained at Mulberry House, still caring for her and protecting her. I would say that you were mother, father, sister and friend to Christabel. Am I right?’

‘Yes. She means everything to me,’ Miss Gribble replied, but she looked at the floor as if she wasn’t in the habit of admitting such a thing.

‘And you’d do anything for her?’

She nodded.

‘You won’t be able to help her at all if they hang you,’ he said. ‘She’ll have to stay in the asylum, and no one will visit her. There’ll be no one to care if they neglect, starve or hurt her.’

Miss Gribble’s head shot up and, suddenly, there was fire in her eyes.

‘She shouldn’t be in there, she did nothing wrong. She won’t last more than a few weeks without my care and attention.’

‘Are you saying you acted alone in tracking down Sylvia? And in killing her and taking Petal? Are you trying to tell me that Christabel didn’t know you were holding her granddaughter in an attic and being cruel to her? Is that what you’re saying?’