The Throwaway Children (41 page)

‘No, all right,’ agreed Carrie. ‘D’you think it was Jimmy what sent them? You know, wanted them right out of the way?’

‘Don’t know,’ said Lily. ‘I went round the home looking for them, didn’t I? Said I wanted them back, that they could live with me, just like before. And this woman, the one what runs the place, she said that Rita and Rosie was adopted and had moved away.’

‘Did she say where they was taken to?’ asked Carrie.

Lily shook her head. ‘Just that it was “up north”. I asked to see them but she said it’d unsettle them again. She wouldn’t even give me an address to write to. Just said if I wrote one last letter, she’d send it on.’

‘And did you?’ John asked. ‘Did you write to them?’

‘On the spot,’ replied Lily. ‘The woman give me some paper and a pen, and I wrote to them there and then.’

‘And she addressed it and sent it on.’

‘S’pose so. Rita got it, didn’t she?’

Lily had been wondering about that. Clearly Miss Vanstone had forwarded the letter as promised, but perhaps she’d broken the other part of her promise and had read it herself first. Perhaps she had crossed out bits she didn’t want Rita to read. Lily thought back over the letter she’d written. Was there anything that Miss Vanstone might have thought it necessary to censor? No, all she’d written was that she was out of hospital and getting better. She’d wished them well with their new family and said she loved them and would never forget them. Perhaps, if the woman knew they weren’t being adopted into a family, she might have blacked out that bit.

‘Anyway,’ Lily said, ‘I’m going to go to that Laurel House and face that woman for the liar she is.’

‘Will it do any good?’ wondered Carrie.

‘No.’ Lily’s shoulders sagged. ‘Probably not, but I have to try.’

‘Still, she might give you the address now that you know they’ve gone,’ suggested John more optimistically. ‘So’s you can write back.’

Lily thanked them for their help and got to her feet, quite as determined as before to tackle Miss Vanstone at Laurel House.

When she got home again she lit the fire. It was extravagant, she knew, but sitting alone, she felt cold through to her bones.

How strange, she thought as she poked the fire into life, that here I am, freezing cold, on a dark November evening, and where Rita is it’s warming up for summer. Thousands of miles away. Thousands of miles from home.

How she got through that Sunday, Lily wasn’t sure. Much as she wanted to rush over to Laurel House and confront Miss Vanstone with her duplicity, it was Miss Vanstone she needed to see, not that other woman, and Miss Vanstone didn’t live there.

‘Want to speak to the organ-grinder, not the bloody monkey,’ she announced to her kitchen, as she rehearsed what she intended to say.

Monday morning dawned cold and wet. Lily opened her curtains to a grey drizzle that drifted from the sky, enveloping the houses across the street in shifting mist. It was an outlook that chimed with her mood, grey and dismal. She dressed with care. Today she’d go back to Laurel House and she wanted the Vanstone woman to know that she was respectable and had all her wits about her; that she wasn’t a common, ill-educated woman who could be fobbed off again. Today she wasn’t going to be misled, lied to or patronized.

Laurel House was silent when Lily arrived, it, too, shrouded in the grey mist of the dull November day. She rang the bell and waited. After several minutes, the door opened and a young girl of about fourteen peered out at her. Not the girl who’d opened the door to her before; this one was smaller, had reddish hair and a pale, freckled face.

‘Can I help you?’ she whispered.

Lily was about to ask for Miss Vanstone when she hesitated. Perhaps this girl had known Rita and Rosie, and something could be learned from her, before anyone had the chance to shut her up.

Lily smiled at her. ‘Hallo,’ she said. ‘I’m Rita and Rosie Stevens’ gran. Do you think I can see them?’

The girl stared at her in wide-eyed consternation and then said, ‘They ain’t here.’

‘No?’ Lily affected surprise. ‘Where are they, then?’

‘Don’t know, miss, they went away.’

‘What’s your name?’ Lily asked gently.

‘Pamela, miss,’ said the girl, glancing fearfully over her shoulder.

‘Well, Pamela, I’m trying to find Rita and Rosie. I’m their granny and I wondered if you, or any of the other girls know where they went.’

‘The other girls are at school, miss,’ said Pamela.

‘And why aren’t you at school, Pamela?’

‘I left, miss, in the summer. I work here now.’

‘How old are you, Pamela?’ asked Lily, still speaking softly, as she might to a frightened animal.

‘Fourteen, miss.’

‘Have you always lived here?’

Pamela shrugged. ‘Think so, miss.’

‘Pamela! Who’s at the door?’ The strident voice rang out from inside the house, and Lily saw the girl blench, her faint colour draining from her face.

‘That’s Mrs Hawkins,’ Pamela whispered. ‘You’ll have to ask her about Rita. I don’t know nothing.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Lily reassured her, ‘I won’t say nothing, neither.’

Pamela looked anything but reassured, as she stood aside to let Lily in.

‘Lady to see you, Mrs Hawkins,’ she murmured, as the Hawk appeared from her office.

‘You should have told me at once, Pamela,’ she scolded, ‘not left her on the doorstep. Go back to the kitchen now, Mrs Smith’ll be needing you.’

The girl needed no second bidding, and with one last imploring glance at Lily, she scurried away.

‘I was simply telling the girl that I need to see Miss Vanstone,’ Lily said, stepping into the house before Mrs Hawkins could speak. ‘You may remember I came before. I’m Lily Sharples, Rita and Rosie Stevens’ grandmother.’

‘I remember,’ replied Mrs Hawkins, ‘but I’m afraid that Miss Vanstone isn’t here today.’

‘And when will she be?’ asked Lily sweetly.

‘I never know. She comes when she feels it necessary.’

‘Well, it’s necessary today,’ said Lily sharply. ‘I’ve come to see her and see her I must.’

‘Perhaps I can help you?’ suggested Mrs Hawkins, stretching her mouth in a smile that didn’t even come close to her eyes.

‘I want to speak to the organ-grinder, not the monkey.’ Lily snapped out the prepared line and had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs Hawkins flinch.

‘I’m afraid rudeness like that won’t get you what you want,’ said Mrs Hawkins, her voice cold steel. ‘Miss Vanstone isn’t here today, and I’m certain that she has nothing further to say to you.’

‘Well, I have something further to say to her,’ said Lily planting her feet firmly on the floor and leaning on her stick. ‘A great deal.’

‘I’m afraid I must ask you to leave now,’ said Mrs Hawkins, reaching past her and opening the front door. ‘You have no further business here.’

‘And if I refuse?’ challenged Lily.

‘If you refuse to leave, I’ll have to call the police and have you forcibly ejected. I’m sure you don’t want that sort of trouble.’

‘If the police is called, I’ll tell them how you’ve sent my granddaughters to Australia, without asking and without telling anyone! I’ll show them the letter I’ve had from Rita, and then we’ll see who’s in trouble!’

‘Miss Vanstone will probably be here sometime tomorrow,’ said Mrs Hawkins. ‘I suggest you come back then,’ and with a sharp push she propelled Lily out through the open door. Lily staggered, jabbing her stick into the ground to maintain her balance, and by the time she was able to turn round, the front door had been slammed. She had to admit defeat for the time being, and turned away, the rage still boiling inside her. She was defeated now at Laurel House but she was still determined to confront Miss Vanstone. Somehow she would find her and throw her lies in her face.

Inside Laurel House, Mrs Hawkins went upstairs and peered out of the landing window watching and waiting for Lily Sharples to give up and leave. Damned woman! How had she had a letter from Rita? Surely they hadn’t allowed Rita to write home!

Better warn Miss Vanstone, she thought. I always knew that woman was trouble. Monkey indeed! I’ll make her regret that!

Mrs Hawkins returned to her office and picking up the phone, she rang Vanstone Enterprises and asked to be put through to Miss Vanstone.

‘Yes? What is it?’ Miss Vanstone was, as always, brisk on the telephone.

‘That Sharples woman’s been round again,’ answered Mrs Hawkins. ‘She knows those brats are in Australia.’

‘How? How could she possibly know?’

‘She says she’s had a letter from Rita.’

‘A letter from Rita? Hmm.’

‘I told her you weren’t coming here today,’ went on Mrs Hawkins. ‘Said you might be here tomorrow if she wanted to call back.’ She hesitated before she added, ‘I think you’ll have to see her. She’s threatening to go to the police.’

‘Leave it with me,’ said Miss Vanstone, ‘but if she turns up again, tell her I can give her five minutes tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock. We have to sort this thing out once and for all.’

While Mrs Hawkins had been warning Miss Vanstone of Lily’s intentions, Lily herself had been reassessing them. She found a tearoom a couple of streets away and, sitting over a cup of tea and a sticky bun, she considered her next move. If she couldn’t get to Miss Vanstone at Laurel House, perhaps she could beard her in her other office. She’d rung her before at some business place. She couldn’t remember the name, but maybe she still had the paper with the phone number on it. She scrabbled through her handbag, emptying it out onto the table in front of her, and at last she found it, tucked into the back of her purse.

Now I can ring the Vanstone woman’s office, Lily thought and hurried out to find a phone box. She was about to ring when another idea struck her. How much better simply to turn up on the doorstep. She paused outside the phone box and thought it through. She didn’t know where this office was, but what if she rang and asked for the address? Once she had that, she could turn up unannounced as she had at Laurel House. Having thought of a plan, Lily went into the phone box, slid the coins into the slot and dialled.

As soon as she heard the words ‘Vanstone Enterprises! May I help you?’ Lily pressed button A, and spoke in a clear, business-like voice. ‘Ah, good morning. Vanstone Enterprises?’

‘Yes, good morning. How may I help you?’

‘Please could you give me the exact address of your offices? I have a delivery to make, and I seem to have the wrong address.’ Lily tried to keep her voice steady, but she was shaking as she spoke.

‘Vanstone House, 21 Broome Street. Just off Main Square,’ came the helpful reply. ‘It’s a big red brick building, with black railings. You can’t miss it.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Lily, and replaced the receiver. ‘21 Broome Street,’ she repeated aloud, ‘just off Main Square,’ and she set off to catch the number 37 bus.

Vanstone House stood behind its black-painted iron railings with wide steps leading up to double, glass-panelled front doors. There was a brightly polished brass nameplate. Vanstone House.

Lily stared across at the building with misgiving. How would she get inside a place like that? She’d never get past the front door. She looked up at the three floors of windows overlooking the street. Many were lit from within, and Lily wondered what went on in there. What did Vanstone Enterprises do inside Vanstone House? How would she get to see Miss Vanstone? Better to wait and catch her one day going into Laurel House.

No! Lily told herself firmly. You have to do it today. Every day you leave it will make it more difficult.

As she watched, a man in a dark overcoat walked up to the front door and simply pushing open the double doors, went inside.

So, thought Lily, here goes. She crossed the road and pushed her way through the doors. She found herself in an entrance hall, carpeted in dark green, with several doors opening off it. Two chairs stood against the wall and a gracious staircase rose to the floors above. A smartly dressed woman was sitting behind a desk and as the door swung closed behind Lily, she looked up and smiled. When she spoke her voice was soft and well modulated. ‘Good morning, madam. May I help you?’

For a moment Lily faltered in the face of such courtesy. Could she simply demand to see Miss Vanstone and create a scene if she were denied?

‘I need to see Miss Vanstone,’ she said. ‘It is a matter of great urgency.’

‘Have you an appointment, madam?’ enquired the receptionist.

‘No, I haven’t,’ admitted Lily, ‘but it is most important that I see Miss Vanstone today.’

‘I see,’ the woman replied. ‘Perhaps you’d like to take a seat,’ she waved her hand towards the chairs, ‘and I’ll enquire.’

Lily stood irresolute for a moment and the receptionist, smile still fixed in place, repeated, ‘Please, take a seat, madam.’

Lily sat down, perching awkwardly on the edge of the chair, as if ready to leap up again. She watched the receptionist lift a phone, and speak in a low voice. Lily couldn’t hear what was said, but after a moment she glanced across at Lily and set the receiver down.

‘What name shall I say?’ she asked.

‘Mrs Lily Sharples,’ replied Lily.

‘Thank you, Mrs Sharples.’ She picked up the receiver again and after another brief conversation, rang off.

‘Please make yourself comfortable,’ she said. ‘Miss Drake will be down to see you in just one moment.’

Lily sat back on the chair and waited. One moment turned into ten minutes and she was just about to approach the desk again, when a woman came down the stairs and after a glance at the receptionist, crossed the hall to Lily. She was a small, thin woman, with a sharp, narrow face. Her faded fair hair was cropped short, accentuating her angular features, and her mouth was set in a straight line. There was no sign of welcome in her expression.

‘Mrs Sharples? I’m Miss Drake, Miss Vanstone’s secretary. Can I help you?’

Lily stood up. ‘How d’you do?’ she said. ‘I’m here to see Miss Vanstone.’

‘Yes, so I understand,’ replied Miss Drake, ‘but Miss Vanstone is unavailable at the moment, so perhaps I can help. What was this in connection with?’

‘That’s between her and me,’ said Lily.