A Whisper of Life Read online

  ‘Poor Honor and Archie. They must be beside themselves, and so upset that Archie’s not up to travelling down here himself,’ Emilia said, sitting down. She felt responsible for Abbie’s disappearance. She had left here suddenly. There must have been something on her mind, and she had not noticed it. Now it looked as if Abbie was in some sort of danger. There was one thing to hope for. ‘Abbie could have changed her mind about going up to London. She lied about your publishing company wanting to see her, Mr Goodyear. She might simply have wanted to be on her own for a while.’

  ‘It’s a possibility, of course, Mrs Bosweld, but I don’t think any of us agree it’s likely. Abbie might have been disappointed over this Fuller chap you have mentioned, but I can’t see her becoming a recluse to ease a breaking heart over it. No, Abbie would never allow her parents to worry about her like this.’

  Perry gently gripped Emilia’s shoulder. ‘Abbie leaving the railway station and meeting with an accident also seems unlikely. So it looks like abduction.’

  ‘Oh, God, no.’ Emilia’s voice wobbled as she gave way to tears. She had kept thrusting this terrible possibility to the back of her mind. ‘Could she have left the station with someone? But who? She doesn’t really know anyone outside of Hennaford.’

  ‘We’ll just have to keep digging away, try to come up with something,’ Douglas said.

  ‘What will you do next?’ Perry asked.

  ‘After the lunch you’ve kindly invited me to share, I shall pop back into Truro.’ Douglas rose up and down on his heels, as if ready to take off for action in an instant. ‘Mr Rothwell has authorized me to put a notice of a reward of five hundred pounds in the West Briton. It’s Thursday tomorrow, the same day of the week that Abbie disappeared. I’ll return to the railway station and question the travellers, see if there’s anyone who always takes the train on the same day, who might have seen her. I’ll do the same to the buses as they come into the town. Fortunately your nephew had taken some very good recent photographs of her.’

  Jill joined them. She saw Emilia’s tear-stained eyes. ‘All right to come in? I suppose you’re talking about Abbie. I take it there’s no good news.’

  ‘Not a thing,’ Emilia replied.

  Jill took on a sheepish look. ‘There is something that might possibly help. I couldn’t see how before but now we’re clutching at straws…’

  ‘If you think you know even the most insignificant thing, Mrs Harvey, please do speak up.’ Douglas gazed at her with the air of an interrogator.

  ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned this before.’ Pink in the cheeks, for she was feeling guilty now, she told them about the distressing interchange between herself and Abbie. ‘She could have left because of that. I didn’t stay angry with her for long. I’ll never forget she helped to save my life. Dear God, I hope she hasn’t come to any harm.’

  ‘Well, that probably explains her decision to leave but I can’t see how it would have any bearing on what might have happened to her,’ Perry said. ‘What say you, Mr Goodyear?’

  ‘I agree with you, Mr Bosweld. It’s something to bear in mind. I’ll pass on the information to the police. Mrs Bosweld looked surprised by what you said, Mrs Harvey. Why hadn’t you mentioned it before? Does your husband know?’

  ‘I didn’t even mention it to Tom.’ Jill spoke in hushed tones. ‘I just wanted to forget about it.’

  ‘The young girl who’s usually with you, Mrs Harvey, wouldn’t happen to know anything?’ Douglas was brisk. ‘She could be holding something back too.’

  ‘I’m quite sure Kate knows nothing more. She had a friendly chat with Abbie before Abbie and I had words. She liked Abbie. Abbie was going to teach her to paint and she was looking forward to it.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Douglas drew together his trim brows. ‘It’s a pity Abbie ever came down to Cornwall.’ He had a great fondness for the woman his brother had treated so badly.

  The others in the room said nothing, but all silently agreed with him.

  * * *

  Abbie awoke with a high fever and a thundering headache that made it almost too painful to lift her head off the pillow. She had to strive to recall where she was, why she was here in this small, darkened room. Oh yes, she had been taken to a little guesthouse at the bottom end of Richmond Hill, just below the railway station. What awful bad luck to have contracted the measles, to be overcome by dizziness before she had got on the train. A doctor had been summoned to attend her. She didn’t remember the examination but apparently he had been concerned about her eyes, blindness was a complication of measles, but thank God she had escaped that terrible prospect.

  Moaning groggily she battled to prop herself up and reached for the aspirin bottle and glass of water on the bedside cabinet. She managed to swallow a couple of pills and sip some water to ease her burning throat. She was so tired. Falling back on the pillows she kept her eyes shut for some time, then opened them and raised her arms in front of her face to examine them in the crack of light at the edge of the curtains. The telltale red circular spots had faded but the virus had leached all her strength and her arms flopped down heavily. How much longer before she would be well enough to get out of this bed? Within minutes she was deeply asleep again.

  She came round to noises of shuffling in the room. ‘Ohah.’ Her head throbbed and her mouth was as dry as dust.

  ‘It’s all right, Miss Rothwell. Do you think you can sit up? I’ve brought you some chicken broth and a cup of tea.’

  ‘Oh, um…’ Abbie’s voice was weak and husky. She was confused. She rubbed at her eyes. The woman was big and shadowy, around middle age. The only thing that stood out about her was a string of thick white beads.

  ‘It’s Mrs Mitchell, dear.’

  ‘Oh yes. You’re looking after me. I’m very grateful.’

  ‘’Tis my pleasure to help you. Thank goodness my husband saw you coming over all poorly when he went up to put a parcel on the train.’

  ‘How long have I been here?’ Abbie needed the woman’s help to sit up straight enough to sip broth off the spoon placed near her lips.

  ‘Just over a few days, that’s all.’

  ‘It seems much longer.’

  ‘That’s what illness does to you. Try another sip, dear. You need to finish it all off if you’re going to get your strength back. You were unlucky. These childhood diseases are a sight worse when you’re grown up.’

  Abbie’s mind was a muddle but she knew what was priority. ‘You did phone my mother and tell her that I’m here? I’m sure I asked you.’

  ‘Of course you did, dear. She rings every day to ask how you are. She’s ever so glad you’re in good hands. As soon as you’re able, Mr Mitchell and me will put you on the next train home.’

  Abbie felt sweaty and sticky. ‘I need to freshen up. Can you bring me up some hot water, please? And can you unpack a clean nightdress?’

  ‘As soon as you’ve cleared the plate. Then you must take some more aspirin. Doctor’s orders, he said it was the best thing for you.’

  Getting through the broth and drinking the tea was a trial but Abbie was hungry and thirsty and she finished the meal. Mrs Mitchell coaxed her into taking two more pills and she was sleeping almost at once.

  A man joined Mrs Mitchell. ‘Off in the land of nod again, is she?’

  ‘Sleeping like a baby and as helpless as one.’

  ‘She was easy pickings. Stroke of luck me coming across she like that while out looking for pockets to pick. We’ve got what we wanted. When are we going to get out of here then?’

  ‘Soon, husband, dear. I’ve got an idea how to get even more out of her. A hell of a lot more.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kate was in Truro. It was the first time she had been there on her own. ‘Be careful not to miss the bus home,’ Jill had fussed as if she were a child. ‘You’ve got some pennies to phone me if you need to.’

  Mrs Em had suggested Jill and Tom might occasionally like some time on their own, and once or twice a week she went
through to the big sitting room and played board games or listened to a radio play with the Boswelds. It was really nice to be branching out.

  She took a look at the cathedral, a wondrous sight with its three spires reaching up and up to the sky. She went inside, marvelling at the lofty interior and captivated by the columns and vaulting and magnificent stained glass windows, in awe as her footsteps echoed where thousands of worshippers and sightseers had trod before her. An official in a long red robe smiled at her and she wondered if she should curtsey to the dignitary.

  Outside, she picked her way carefully over the cobbles. Her limp made the journey unsure. A young soldier was suddenly there beside her. ‘Would you like to take my arm, miss?’

  Her heart flew up to her throat. She had no idea how to respond. If he was merely being polite she should accept his offer, shouldn’t she? She didn’t want to be treated as a cripple. She wasn’t some doddery old lady. And if he was trying to pick her up he was out of luck. ‘I can manage, thank you.’

  The infantryman went along at her side, nonetheless. Once on the pavement in King Street, he said, ‘Are you local? My parents live at the top of Castle Hill, right by the cattle market. My name’s Harry Bane. I’m on two weeks’ leave. And you are?’

  Kate felt her insides doing a wild dance. He seemed nice, he had a pleasant smile and he wasn’t unattractive; he had a hint of the actor Montgomery Clift about him. She was getting quite used to attention from young men. Alan Killigrew and Denny James had both asked her out recently. She had not made up her mind about either of them, part of her wanted them to forget her and part of her didn’t. Of the pair she felt more comfortable with Denny because she’d had more chance to get to know him, but she found Alan wittier and he had more appealing looks. As far as this stranger was concerned she wanted to get rid of him. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ She walked off, her face aflame.

  To her consternation, Harry Bane fell in step beside her. His shiny boots tapped out a firm tread on the granite slab pavement. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes.’ She snatched at the excuse. ‘I’m meeting him soon.’

  ‘My loss and his good fortune.’ Harry Bane bowed out with a disappointed smile. ‘It’s not every day of the week I meet such a pretty girl.’

  He strode on before her. Kate crept along to Boscawen Street, the wide main street of the sleepy city, in case he was hanging about there. He had called her pretty. So had Denny. Alan had called her ‘quite lovely’. It was extraordinary and exciting to be attractive to boys. It gave her a lift, more confidence than she had ever had before, and without knowing it she sparkled, which made her even more engaging. Older men had started to lift trilby and bowler hats to her. A window cleaner up on a ladder wolf whistled at her. It was brilliant to be noticed for her looks and not ridiculed for her out-of-true legs.

  She had clothing coupons and money in her handbag. She crossed the street by the war memorial and went into Woolworths, and in sheer delight bought a gift of boxed handkerchiefs for Jill and Mrs Em and Tilda. What could she get for Tom and Mr Perry? She decided on handkerchiefs too. She didn’t like the fact that Jonny Harvey was staying at the farm, even though he was careful now not to embarrass her and boss Denny when he chatted to her. She wouldn’t buy him anything. She’d never have the nerve to give it to him and she was afraid he would receive a gift with one of his condescending smiles. To her mind, he was a bighead, boasting at how he planned to see the world and would never settle in one place. What was so special about that? As soon as there was news of poor Miss Rothwell, and Kate prayed every day it would be good news, he was to leave. The sooner the better, then she would feel completely comfortable again in her home.

  She made her way to River Street, to a clothing shop Jill had told her about. She didn’t have anything specific in mind; she would just see what she would see, a saying of Mrs Em’s. On the way was a small exclusive jeweller’s. She enjoyed looking at the precious gems set in rings, necklaces, bracelets, brooches and cufflinks, but she lingered more over the ladies’ wristwatches. She had always wanted a wrist-watch. She could afford one with her grandmother’s money in her savings, deposited in the post office here when she’d got a moment free from Jill – Miss Grigg would have been curious about such a large amount. She yearned for a watch on a gold bracelet, but she would have to choose one of the cheaper ones on a leather strap or Jill and Tom would wonder how she had paid for it. It would be a thrill to wear even a less pretty watch on her wrist.

  She stepped back into the path of a pedestrian. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Stupid girl!’ The woman, stout and hawk-like, with a dangle of thick white beads on her heavy chest, pushed Kate then clutched her cardigan and shook her, bringing her ugly face in close. ‘Look where you’re going! You stood on my foot. A bleddy little cripple like you should have the sense to be more careful.’

  The hostile public censure was bad enough but there was something about the woman that chilled Kate to her bones. Had she met her before? She thought not, yet she reminded her of someone, and something, something terrible, like the stuff in her nightmares. Kate wanted to shout at her to let her go. She wanted to rail against her unnecessary spite but the words refused to reach her lips.

  The woman finally loosened her grip and stalked off. Kate was left white with horror and wanting to cry out her shame. She stumbled on with her eyes down to the pavement. Avoiding people, going in a straight line, she crossed over two road junctions, both leading up the steep hill where the cattle market was. She headed along Frances Street and turned up a short stretch called Ferris Town that led to Richmond Hill. No one was around and there was little traffic. Taking her hanky from her bag she wiped at the tears pricking her eyes, hoping that if she was seen it would be thought she had a summer cold. She carried on slowly towards the hill then stopped. There was no point going on. She had never been this far before and had an idea the railway station was up above and she didn’t want to go there. The best thing was to go back to the jeweller’s and buy a watch and do some more shopping and forget what had happened. She mustn’t let that beastly woman spoil her day out or make her want to hide away for ever on the farm. She had to do something to get rid of the bleakness, the same as she was left with after each nightmare about her grandmother. She could go on to Lemon Quay and look down at the Truro River. She had been there on the odd occasion her mother had allowed her to go with her into town and she had enjoyed watching the pleasure boats coming from and leaving for Falmouth.

  She raised her chin and saw Jonny coming down the hill. Usually she wished him elsewhere but now she was glad to see his confident stride and strong bearing. He waved to her and she waved back. ‘Hello, Kate,’ he said. ‘What a surprise seeing you here. I take it Jill is about somewhere.’

  ‘No, I’m by myself.’

  He glanced at her carrier bag. ‘Been doing a little shopping, I see. There are very few shops over here. Something in particular you wanted?’

  ‘No. I was just wandering about.’

  He looked at her intently. She was trying to hide it but she was terribly upset. Perhaps she had bumped into a member of her family. Or had come this way and thought she had got lost and panicked. No, it wouldn’t be that. Kate wasn’t nervous in that way. ‘Are you going back on the midday bus?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Me too. I’ve been taking pictures of the railway station and the engines and now I’m eager to get back and develop them. Would you like some company? We could pop into a restaurant for coffee and cake.’ He lifted inquiring brows. She was normally shy of him and even didn’t seem to like him and he thought she would make an excuse.

  ‘Yes, OK. Jill and I have been to Opie’s. I like it there.’

  Her readiness to go with him and the flush on her pale cheeks told him she really was troubled. ‘Opie’s it is then. Let me carry your shopping.’

  Tom and Mr Perry were polite in this way. It was something none of the men in her family would dream of doing
for a woman. She handed him the Woolworths bag. Would he offer his arm as Tom and Mr Perry did? She would feel protected if that dreadful woman happened to cross her path again.

  ‘Would you like to take my arm, Kate?’ he said, unsure if it was the right thing to do. She might prefer not to, and due to his reputation any young woman with him in this manner was likely to be construed as his latest conquest. Kate, in simple clothes, with a plain straw hat and no makeup, was so different to the sophisticated, fashionably clad women he usually mixed with, and would provoke a good deal of interest. For Kate’s sake he shouldn’t have asked her. ‘OK.’

  The instant she said that he didn’t care what others thought. He was proud to be her escort. He wanted to get to know more about her, her true self. She was always so guarded at the farm. Now he had a chance to do so without Jill constantly checking on her as if she was an infant. It was a situation he considered unfortunate. Kate needed no more than a little gentle guidance but Jill was using her as a substitute interest for the loss of her baby. There was a danger Jill might smother her with kindness and restrict Kate’s chances of living to her full potential. His main reason for going to the railway station had been to question the stationmaster and porters about Abbie. He had learned nothing new. All the town’s taxi drivers had been shown Abbie’s photograph by Douglas Goodyear and the police. All of them were certain they had not taken her from the station. While retracing his steps back down the hill he could only reason that for Abbie to disappear so quickly and completely abduction was certain. He couldn’t bear to think of her hurt and suffering. Or dead, which was a terrible possibility because so far there had been no response to her picture in the newspapers or the reward. Then he had turned the corner and seen Kate, and his thoughts flew to discovering why she was looking so downcast.