Sins of the Father (40 page)

She choked back her protest, watching as he tucked Patricia’s last school photograph into his pocket alongside his notebook. Tinker wouldn’t run away, she was sure of it.

Over two hours passed and Emma couldn’t settle. She rang the police station again, but the desk sergeant told her there was no news. As she replaced the receiver there was a knock on the door. Emma flew across the hall to answer it, stepping back nervously when she saw Terry on the step, his face livid with anger as he stormed inside.

‘What the hell’s going on? I’ve had the police questioning me. I can’t believe you told them that I might have taken Tinker.’

‘But…but I didn’t! They were asking me about friends, relatives, they’re sure that she ran away. I just said that she’s fond of you, that’s all.’

‘Well it didn’t sound like that to me.’

Somewhere inside of Emma, she had clung to one last hope. That somehow Tinker hadn’t believed that Terry was on holiday and had gone
to find him. As she gazed at Terry this last vestige of hope died and her knees collapsed from under her. She felt arms around her, and half carrying her to the sitting room Terry urged her onto the sofa.

Emma buried her head in her hands, fear gripping her heart as she turned to God, silently and fervently praying, Oh God, please bring my baby back to me. I’ll do anything, anything you ask. Just keep her safe and bring her home.

When Terry spoke she looked up at him, tears blurring her eyes.

‘Look, I’m sorry for flying off the handle, Em, but this has knocked me for six. Why would Tinker run away?’

‘But she hasn’t! I’m sure she hasn’t. I…I think someone took her.’

‘What? When?’

‘I put her to bed last night, but when I woke up this morning she was gone.’ The last flicker of colour drained from Emma’s face. ‘Oh, Terry! Rose and I thought we heard someone lurking around the night before last. What if it was a punter, one of those funny ones that you’ve had to chuck out?’

‘Did you see him?’

‘No, we thought it was a cat.’

‘That’s probably all it was, but just in case, you’d best report it to the police.’

Emma blanched. If the police questioned the girls they would discover the brothel, but what did that matter if it helped to find Tinker? She had to tell them–had no choice–and as horrific images of what might have happened to her daughter filled her mind, her head began to buzz. The light became dim and she was barely aware of Terry hurrying from the room.

‘Come on, girl, don’t go fainting on me. Drink this.’

Emma took the glass from him, her hands shaking, but after taking a few sips of water her head began to clear.

‘Oh Terry, if…if one of those monsters has taken Tinker, I’ll never forgive myself. It’ll be my fault–my fault for running a brothel and putting her in danger.’

‘Don’t jump the gun, Em. The police may be right. She may have taken it into her head to run away.’

‘You know she wouldn’t do that.’

‘Kids can be funny buggers, but you shouldn’t be on your own. Do you want me to fetch Doris?’

‘You know where she is?’

‘Yeah, she’s at my place.’

So they had finally got together. But Emma couldn’t think about it now. All she cared about was Tinker. ‘Yes, but I doubt she’ll come.’

‘Don’t be silly, of course she will. Now I’m off
to have a scout around, but is there anything I can get you before I go?’

‘No, there’s nothing.’ Managing to stand up, Emma added, ‘I’ll call the police now, tell them about the other night.’

‘Yeah, do that. Chin up, girl, and in no time you’ll have Tinker back.’

Emma wanted to throw herself into Terry’s arms, to draw comfort from this bear of a man, but resisted. He was with Doris now and she couldn’t come between them. ‘I feel I should be doing something, but the police said I should stay here in case she turns up.’

‘They’re right. Now if I leave, are you sure you’ll be all right?’

Emma nodded, though in truth her stomach was clenched in fear at the nightmare images that invaded her mind.
God, don’t let a monster touch my baby
. She held herself together until Terry left, and then, fighting back tears, she rang the police again.

When the sergeant came to the phone, Emma didn’t hesitate. ‘Hello, Sergeant. There’s something I didn’t tell you…’

At one thirty there was a knock on the door and eagerly Emma went to answer it. Had God answered her prayers? As she opened the door, Doris stood there and Emma flung herself into the woman’s arms.

‘Oh, Doris! I’m nearly going out of my mind.’

‘They’ll find her, love.’

‘But what if one of those awful men who…who like children has got her? Oh, my baby!’

‘Come on, Em, don’t think the worst. The police may be right and she’s run away.’

‘Don’t you think I want to believe that?’

Doris took her arm, leading her to the kitchen. ‘Sit down and I’ll make us both a drink.’

Emma sat, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

‘Terry’s in a right old state and is out looking for her,’ Doris said.

‘I’m grateful. I feel I should be searching too,
but I daren’t leave the house in case Tinker comes back.’

‘That’s the ticket, love. Keep thinking like that. She’ll come back soon, I’m sure of it.’

‘I…I’m glad that you and Terry have got together.’

‘We’re just friends, Em.’

But Emma didn’t hear her friend’s reply. The images of Tinker in peril had returned, making her head buzz, and as Doris placed a cup of tea in front of her she grasped it, taking a gulp of hot liquid, uncaring as it seared her throat.

‘It’s my fault,’ she cried, hand shaking as she returned the cup to its saucer. ‘I shouldn’t have put Tinker in danger.’

‘No, love, you can’t blame yourself.’

‘The police will be here soon. I rang to tell them there might have been someone lurking in the bushes and they’re coming round to talk to the girls.’

‘You told them about the brothel?’

‘Yes, but I had no choice,’ Emma said. What did the business matter now? She would do anything–anything–to get Tinker back. If interviewing the girls helped, then so be it.

Only moments later the police arrived, along with a face Emma recognised from CID. She knew she had opened herself up to arrest, but for the first time she wondered if the backhanders
she had given over the years might come in useful. She couldn’t be arrested, couldn’t be in a cell. She had to be there in case Tinker came home.

Forcing a hard, implacable manner that she no longer felt, Emma faced the man. ‘I’d like to talk to you in private.’

One eyebrow lifted, but he nodded, and as Emma took him through to the drawing room she closed the door firmly behind them before saying, ‘I don’t care how you do it, but you’ve got to prevent any arrests. If you don’t, then I have nothing to lose any more. If I go down, I’ll see that you come with me.’

‘I don’t like threats.’

‘I don’t like making them, but you and your predecessor have done well out of me over the years. It’s time for me to get something in return.’

They faced each other, eyes locked, Emma quaking inside but refusing to show it.

He was the first to break contact. ‘I’ll do what I can, but you’ll have to close down.’

‘Fine, that’s fine with me.’

As the man left the room, Emma’s shoulders slumped. She walked to the hall, saw him in conversation with uniformed officers, saw their eyes flick in her direction as she returned to the kitchen.

‘What was all that about, Em?’ Doris asked.

Emma repeated the conversation. Doris smiled. ‘That was a good idea and it might work.’

‘Mrs Bell, we need to go next door to question the girls,’ the CID officer said as he walked into the room.

Emma nodded, but found no reassurance in the man’s eyes as she and Doris escorted him and uniformed officers to the brothel.

Rose was interviewed first, her manner sullen, jaws working as she chewed on gum. ‘I saw nothing,’ she insisted. ‘We heard a noise in the bushes, but I reckon it was only a cat.’

The other girls were unable to help, their interviews short. Emma didn’t know how he achieved it, but the CID officer had managed to smooth the path, ensuring there were no arrests. When he came to speak to Emma, his face was grave.

‘We’ll be back this evening to talk to the other girls, and though I’ve managed a cover story, I won’t be able to offer protection if you open for business again.’

‘I understand, and thank you,’ Emma told him.

Emma waited until the police had left, dreading what she had to do next. ‘Doris, I’ll have to tell the girls that I’m closing the brothel.’

‘Leave it to me, Emma. You’ve got enough on your plate at the moment.’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t. Now go on, get yourself home.’

Emma was glad to leave the flat, but it was only half an hour later when Doris joined her. ‘How did they take it?’ she asked.

‘I think they were just relieved to get off the premises without arrest. Rose was the only one who kicked up.’

‘I didn’t trust her, Doris. I’m sure she was dipping into the takings.’ Emma ran a hand across her face. ‘Oh what does it matter! What does money matter? All I care about is Tinker! Oh, where is she, Doris? Where is my little girl?’

‘She’ll turn up, love.’

Emma gripped her friend’s hand. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without your help, but I haven’t even apologised for driving you away.’

‘Look, forget it. All right, we fell out, but it’s in the past, and the least of your worries at the moment.’ Doris’s fingers flew to her lips. ‘Oh Christ, trust me to put my foot in my mouth.’

‘Don’t apologise, I know you mean well.’

Emma was so grateful that Doris was there, but now that the police had gone, nothing could still her mind.

‘Doris, I should be out there, looking for Tinker. Oh God, I feel so helpless, so useless. Look at the time–it’s after three and she’s been missing for over seven hours!’

‘They’ll find her, love, you’ll see.’

Emma could only hope that Doris was right, but a sense of dread consumed her mind.

At seven that evening, after telephoning the station at regular intervals, to be told there was no news, Emma and Doris went next door, waiting for the evening girls to arrive. They would have to break the news that the brothel had closed. Whilst waiting, Emma paced. Over eleven hours had passed now since Tinker went missing, and cold fear gripped her heart.

When at last the girls turned up it was Doris who broke the news, adding an assurance that they wouldn’t be arrested. Then the police returned and Emma prayed one of the girls had seen something–anything that could help–but her hopes were dashed. After being interviewed by the police, they left one by one, some hurriedly, some cockily, all never to return.

Emma couldn’t settle and self-loathing filled her mind. If anything happened to her precious daughter, she would never forgive herself.

Doris gripped her arm. ‘Come on, love, they’ve all gone. Let’s go next door. You look exhausted.’

Emma found herself being led outside and, once in her drawing room, she almost fell onto a chair. She’d never run a brothel again, but it was too late to save her daughter.

‘I know it’s only nine thirty, but why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll stay if you want me to,’ Doris said.

Sleep! She wouldn’t be able to sleep, but she needed to be alone. There were things she had to do, in private, and though loath to let Doris go, she forced the words from her mouth as she stood up. ‘Thanks, but you needn’t stay. I’ll be all right. You get yourself home to Terry.’

‘I’d hardly call it home. Mind you, I’m surprised that Terry hasn’t been round to see you, but then again, he could still be out looking for Tinker. Anyway, if you’re sure, and you really are going to bed, I’ll be off, but don’t worry, I’ll be back in the morning.’

When they reached the hall they hugged, but as Emma closed the door behind her friend, she turned to slump against it. She was sure now that Tinker had been snatched, and she was bent like an old woman as she walked to her bedroom. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed her cash box, unlocking it to stare at the notes, her eyes dark with hatred. Why? Why had she let the accumulation of money become her god?

She’d been warned but refused to listen, only wanting more wealth, more money to fill her coffers, and now she was being punished. She deserved this–this pain and anguish.

Despite the cost of buying and renovating this house, there was still money–money she had to get rid of. Almost out of her mind now, Emma snatched the notes. She ran to the drawing room and flung the bundles into the fire, seeing them catch, flames rushing up the chimney as she begged forgiveness.

‘Here, take it–take my money. You can punish me, do anything to me, but please, please, keep my daughter safe. Oh God, don’t let her be hurt. I beg you, bring her back to me.’

A week passed and still there was no news. Emma left the house on the seventh day, wandering the streets and the Common, her hair lank, uncombed, and like her body, unwashed. With no income now, she had been to the pawnbroker, something she had never expected to do again. She had sold some of her Royal Crown Derby. Emma barely haggled, uncaring as long as she had enough money to get by on.

Her voice became a croak from her constantly calling her daughter’s name. On her way home, her head bowed low with exhaustion, a man suddenly stepped in her path.

‘Emma, it’s me.’

She looked up and through blurred eyes, barely recognised the mature, good-looking man. It was Dick, and for a moment she dared to hope. ‘Dick, have you seen her? Have you seen Tinker?’

‘No, but Mandy’s been nagging me for nearly a week to check if you’re all right.’

‘How did you know?’

‘The police came round, but we couldn’t tell them anything. They’ve been to see Dad too.’

‘You’re in touch with him?’

‘Yeah, life’s too short to bear grudges, but it’s taken all these years before the Salvation Army and my wife made me see that. It held me back from joining up, from making the commitment, but I finally saw the light and I’ve been in touch with Dad for about six months now.’