Читать книгу Anna, Where Are You? - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 9

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Frank Abbott called up next day.

“Look here, I caught the Chief in a melting mood, and he says I can run down and make some enquiries. The usual trimmings about mare’s nests and what not, but all in good part. So expect me to-morrow on my way back. Will it matter if I’m late? ... All right then—we’ll say any time up to midnight.”

It was not nearly so late as that when Hannah let him in. As she opened the sitting-room door, her voice could be heard telling him that his sandwiches were waiting, and that the coffee wouldn’t be a moment.

Miss Silver smiled.

“Hannah is always sure you must be starved when you go out of town.”

“Well, I did have some ghastly kind of a meal, but I’m trying to forget about it.” He pulled a chair in to the fire and spread out his hands to the glow. “Brr—it’s cold! And I’ve had my journey for—well, not quite nothing, but about as near as makes no difference.”

He thought, not for the first time, how comfortable and restful the room was, with its out-of-date furniture and its reminders of an age untroubled by the aeroplane and the bomb. Security—that is what the Victorians had, and what perhaps they paid too high a price for. They had slums and child labour, and culture was only for the few, but at least their children were not dragged from their beds to take refuge in underground shelters, and their slums were not blasted into rubble. There were times when the blessings of education appeared a little over-rated, since it seemed only to enable the nations to quarrel with greater fluency in some modern Tower of Babel.

Miss Silver, smiling at him from the other side of the hearth, her hands busy with her knitting, remained a stable point in an unsettled world. Love God, honour the Queen; keep the law; be kind, be good; think of others before you think of yourself; serve Justice; speak the truth—by this simple creed she lived. Si sic omnes! ...

His sense of humour tripped him up. Miss Silver at the council board—at the Admiralty, the War Office, the Air Ministry. An infinite procession of Miss Silvers running everything everywhere. John Knox’s Monstrous Regiment of Women. No, no, it wouldn’t do. There was only one Maudie—let her remain unique.

Hannah came in with the coffee, poured him out his first cup, fussed over him with sandwiches, and departed. Then, and not till then, Miss Silver said,

“So you had your trouble for nothing?”

“Well, not quite. To start off with, Craddock it is—and I take off my hat to you, though I suppose you will admit that it was a very long shot.”

She was knitting demurely.

“They do occasionally hit the mark. So you found Mrs. Craddock?”

“Mr. Craddock, Mrs. Craddock and young, as stated. The young have to be seen to be believed. I am not surprised that Anna didn’t stay.”

Miss Silver said, “Oh?” and stopped knitting. “She had been at Deep End with the Craddocks?”

“And left before the end of the second week. But I expect you would like me to begin at the beginning.”

“It would be as well. But pray do not hurry yourself. Hannah’s liver sandwiches are really very good indeed. I find them difficult to distinguish from pâté de foie gras.”

“She is a genius. I warn you that I shall probably eat them all.”

“That is what they are there for, my dear Frank. And pray do not let your coffee grow cold.”

He lay back in his chair with a feeling of being at home.

“Well, Deep End used to be three cottages and a cow, with one of those overgrown Big Houses which have started Tudor and finished up Victorian. No, it was the war that finished it—direct hit right in the middle of the Great Hall, and consequent wreckage of most of the principal rooms. Rather appropriate, because the old family that had been there for donkey’s years had just petered out. Well, after standing derelict until three years ago it was bought for a song and patched together. That is to say, the middle block where most of the damage had been was tidied up, but there has been no attempt to make it habitable.”

“Was it Mr. Craddock who bought it?”

“It was. He lives in one of the wings, and has let the other. And—prepare for a shock—he has changed the name from Deepe House to Harmony!”

Miss Silver coughed.

“The intention of such names is no doubt laudable, but in practice they attract invidious criticism.”

“Like the miserable little shrimps who get christened Gloria, and all the dark Italian girls who are called Bianca! Well, Craddock called the place Harmony and proceeded to start the Colony by letting out a lodge and the stables to assorted cranks, after which he got a permit and began to build.”

“And Miss Ball?”

“She was engaged as mother’s help to Mrs. Craddock, but she only stayed a fortnight. If you saw the children you wouldn’t be surprised. They are being brought up in a state of nature.”

“In this weather? My dear Frank!”

“No, not nudist—they just do what they like, and if they wanted to go about without any clothes on, of course no one would stop them. You just let the natural tastes develop untrammelled and unchecked. I had a long and earnest talk with Mr. Craddock about it. Children must never be thwarted, or they’ll get complexes, and they must never be punished or told anything is wrong, because of course a guilt complex is about the worst of the lot. I felt sorry for the unfortunate Anna Ball.”

“I feel sorry for the children. Fancy going out into the world under the impression that you can always have your own way! Would anything be more likely to lead to disaster? But let us return to Miss Ball. If she left Deep End at the end of a fortnight, where did she go? Did she again leave no address?”

Frank nodded.

“According to the Craddocks she just burst into tears one day and said the children were too much for her and she would like to go at once. So she packed her bag, and he drove her in to Dedham, where she took a third-class ticket for London, and that was that. She didn’t leave any address, because she said she hadn’t made up her mind what she was going to do, and she would write to her friends when she had. He said he pressed her, but she wasn’t very co-operative. From which I gather she had given him to understand it wasn’t his business. I got the impression that they hadn’t liked Anna any more than she liked them. But having seen the children, I don’t imagine they will find it at all easy to replace her.”

“Are they trying to replace her?”

“Mr. Craddock said so.”

Miss Silver knitted in silence for a moment or two.

“Had Mrs. Craddock nothing to say?”

He laughed.

“Very little. I should say that the spirit was more or less broken. One of those little tired women.”

“And Mr. Craddock?”

“An eye like Jove to threaten and command. Very Jovian altogether. A brow and a good deal of hair. Looks like a tall man till he stands up. Quite a presence. The serious crank with Views and a belted blouse. Mrs. Craddock merely wrapped in the common domestic overall.”

After a slight pause Miss Silver said,

“Life must be very hard for her, poor woman. Has she no help at all?”

“A daily was spoken of.”

“They should certainly try to get someone who would live in. You say Mr. Craddock mentioned that they were trying to do so?”

“He said they were advertising, but it was so difficult to get someone to come to the country.” He hesitated for a moment, and then went on. “As a matter of fact they seem to have had someone since Anna Ball, but she didn’t stay.”

“They would not, I imagine, advertise under their name. A box number would be more usual. Mrs. Dugdale takes the Daily Wire. If a previous advertisement appeared in that paper and was answered by Anna Ball, it is quite likely that they will use the same medium again. It would, I suppose, be possible for you to ask the Daily Wire to let you know if they receive any advertisement from the Craddocks, and to supply you with the box number allotted to it.”

His lazy gaze became a very direct one.

“You mean we might send someone down there?”

“I mean that I might go myself.”

No one who knew Frank Abbott would have suspected him capable of the vehemence with which he said,

“No!”

“My dear Frank!”

The vehemence persisted.

“Why on earth should you? The whole thing is dead and done with. Anna Ball went there in November, and stayed less than a fortnight. She didn’t leave an address, and she hasn’t written to Thomasina. Repetition of her conduct when she left Mrs. Dugdale.”

“She meant to write to Thomasina Elliot. She left a trunk with her. Miss Elliot informs me that it contains all her winter clothes. She had only a suit-case with her, and we are now in the third week of January. I should like to satisfy myself that she really did leave Deep End.”

Frank made an impatient gesture.

“Oh, she left all right. I didn’t only see the Craddocks, you know. I went the round of the Colony, just in case Anna had told anyone what she was going to do. They had all seen her, but it doesn’t seem to have got much farther than that. The Miss Tremletts, who do folk-dancing and handicraft, said she was very unresponsive. Miss Gwyneth Tremlett, who has a hand-loom, offered to teach her weaving, but she would have none of it. One Augustus Remington, a piece of whimsy who embroiders pictures on satin, stigmatized her as aloof. A florid and exuberant lady who calls herself Miranda—only that and nothing more—assured me that Anna had one of the gloomiest auras she had ever encountered, which, I imagine, was her way of saying the same thing. They seem to have taken a kindly interest. Rather a matey crowd. And they took it as a sign of grace when she drove over to Ledlington with the Craddocks and came back with a red hat. They thought the colour a little crude, but definitely a step in the direction of expressing joy, which the Miss Tremletts are tremendously keen about.”

Miss Silver said,

“Why did she buy a red hat?”

“The Craddocks gave it to her. ‘Dear Mrs. Craddock, always so kind, so overburdened. And Mr. Craddock—’ I really can’t do justice to the spate of words about Craddock.”

Miss Silver had a very thoughtful expression. She said,

“Why did they give Miss Ball a red hat?”

“A desire to spread sweetness and light.”

“And why are you telling me about it?”

He was watching her between narrowed lids.

“Because it is proof positive that Anna went away. Both the Miss Tremletts saw her go by with Craddock. So did Miranda and Augustus, who were having a cosy little confab over their mutual fence. You remember he drove her to Dedham, where she took a London ticket. And she really did, because I went to Dedham, and the stationmaster remembers Craddock seeing her off—a dark young woman in a red hat. He says she seemed a good deal upset, and Mr. Craddock told him she had been having trouble with her nerves and they were glad to be quit of her. So you see!”

In a tone as firm as it was mild Miss Silver said,

“I think I will go down to Deep End.”

He sat up with a jerk.

“As mother’s help to Mrs. Craddock?”

“I think so.”

“You will do nothing of the sort!”

“Why should I not?”

“Because it’s absurd—because I won’t have it! Because—”

Miss Silver coughed gently.

“And since when have you dictated my movements, Frank?”

“You can’t do it without me! The Wire won’t let you have that box number.”

He had the sensation of being looked through and through.

“You are very heated, my dear Frank. What is behind it?”

“There isn’t anything behind it. I just don’t want you to go there.”

“And pray why not?”

“It’s quite irrational—I just don’t want you to go.”

After a moment she said in her temperate way,

“Either there is nothing behind Anna Ball’s disappearance, or there is something which requires investigation. In the former case, I should take an early opportunity of terminating the engagement. In the latter, I have undertaken an obligation towards Thomasina Elliot and I shall endeavour to discharge it. You cannot prevent me from going to Deep End. You can merely withhold the assistance which would make my task easier and safer.”

He threw out a hand.

“All right—you win—you always do. But there’s something—I didn’t mean to tell you. On the face of it, it’s quite irrelevant, but—”

“Yes, Frank?”

“Eighteen months ago a young woman was found drowned between Deep End and Deeping. I told you the road flooded. Well, there’s a boggy bit of ground on either side of it. It was a very wet night, and the girl must have got off the road in the dark. There are some sizable pot-holes. She was found lying face downwards in one of them. Not the slightest indication of anything but a purely accidental death. She was mired up to her knees, and she had slipped and fallen forward into the pot-hole. You see, it’s all purely irrelevant.”

Miss Silver’s needles clicked.

“But she was employed by the Craddocks? Is that what you were trying not to say?”

He gave her an exasperated look.

“She came over by the day from Deeping. She had been doing it for some months. There was no suggestion of anything wrong. I didn’t think it would be fair to mention it.”

“But you have mentioned it now.”

He said in a shame-faced way,

“I don’t want you to go there.”