‘Our little Spark runs better and better and is full of his gibberish.’
RALPH PALMER to RALPH VERNEY
(The Verney Letters)
BY THE morning post a letter arrived from Connie. She had put no address at the top, but the postmark was London, W.4.
‘Chiswick,’ said Mrs Bradley, to whom the letter was addressed. Laura looked interested but said nothing. Mrs Bradley cocked a bird-bright eye at her.
‘Great West Road,’ said Laura, in response to this glance. Mrs Bradley nodded.
‘Interesting; whether significant or not we shall know, perhaps, when we have tracked Connie down.’
‘Do you propose to do that?’
‘Yes, child. Or, rather, I propose to allow you to do it.’
‘And Kitty?’
‘Well, if you wouldn’t mind, I would sooner keep Kitty here. I only wish Alice were at liberty, too. I think we might be glad of her help.’
‘I should think she must be free by now. The schools round here have broken up. I’ll wire the old scout. She’d love to come along and join the party.’
‘She may have fixed up her summer holiday, though,’ said Mrs Bradley.
‘She can unfix it, then,’ said Laura. ‘Dash it all, it’s a time for all good men to come to the aid of the party. I’ll wire to her home address.’
She did this, and prepaid the reply.
‘And now,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘off with you. I don’t say bring Connie back, but you must find out why she went, and whether she is short of money. You know the kind of thing.’
‘Sure,’ said Laura, with great cordiality.
‘You have gone to London on business for me,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘That is our official story, and true enough, too, in its way. It gives a reason for your departure. As one of my former students it will seem quite natural for you to be sent off on my affairs. Get back as soon as you can, and good luck, child.’
‘I may need it! Talk about a needle in a bundle of hay!’
Laura caught a morning train and had lunch in town. Then she went on the local line to Chiswick station, and, having decided upon her line of approach, she went first to the Public Library and consulted the Directory.
Connie’s name was Carmody, the same as that of her aunt, and it appeared in the Directory at several addresses. Laura copied out all these, and spent the afternoon and early evening in trying them all. She had no success whatsoever. None of the Chiswick Carmodys were connected with Connie or her aunt.
Laura went for dinner to Mrs Bradley’s Kensington house, was welcomed by Henri and Célestine, who liked her, spent the night in her own bed, and had breakfast at seven the next morning.
She needed very little sleep, and during the night had turned over in her mind the next move towards finding Connie. The bizarre and the adventurous always appealed to Laura, and she was never short of ideas.
She went out after breakfast and, visiting various shops, she purchased a couple of dozen pairs of boot and shoe laces. She returned to the house, begged a light tray with handles from Célestine, put on an old beret and her shabbiest gardening clothes, including a pair of shoes which received dubbin from time to time but never any polish, and set off for Chiswick Empire.
Here she sat on the steps until the cleaners moved her away, and then loitered up the broad alley between the side of the music-hall and the line of shops, and, with the tray on a length of webbing and the bootlaces prominently displayed, she watched the Turnham Green bus stops on either side of the high road, prudently retiring into a side doorway whenever she saw a policeman.
She had some time to wait, but, as the clock on the church showed eleven, Connie came strolling from the Hammersmith direction and stood in the queue for buses travelling westwards.
‘Got you!’ said Laura to herself. She thrust the bootlaces into her pockets, unshipped the tray, and, going into the booking office of Chiswick Empire, thrust it at the astonished clerks, and said:
‘Mind it until I get back!’
She then crossed the road and joined the bus queue, to find herself conveniently separated from Connie by three stout women carrying shopping baskets. Connie went on top and Laura sat just inside the bus, ready to get out the moment the quarry appeared on the conductor’s platform. She did not know what fare to pay, so compromised on a twopenny ticket, and had the satisfaction of seeing Connie get off at the stop which was nearest to the Great West Road.
‘The boy guessed right the very first time!’ muttered Laura, flattening herself against a telephone box as Connie, who seemed in a hurry, glanced about her before crossing the road. Laura let her cross, and then sauntered after her, avoiding by an inch or two a car which came swiftly along the high road.
At the bus stop Connie hesitated, and for a moment Laura thought that she was going to wait for a bus. There was no cover available, and Laura believed she would have to declare herself and demand to be told why Connie had run away. After a pause lasting less than a second, however, Connie walked on again. Laura followed behind, but did not close up.
Connie quickened her pace. Laura increased hers so that the distance between the two of them remained approximately the same. They crossed a narrow turning and then came to one still narrower. Connie dived up this turning and walked still faster. Laura, afraid that she might lose her in a maze of side-streets, hastened her steps. They crossed a narrow bridge over a railway, and then Connie dived to the left into a long lane paved with stone which led alongside the line. Three wide, rough steps led down to it. Connie galloped down these, and then went on running.
Laura continued to walk until Connie had turned a slight bend, then she flew like the wind and almost caught her.
‘I say!’ she called; for she was sure by this time that Connie had intended to follow the Great West Road, and had altered course when she discovered that Laura was trailing her. There seemed no further need for taking cover.
By way of response to the shout from Laura, Connie sprinted again. Laura, seriously handicapped for running by her gardening shoes, lost ground at first, and, by the time they had passed another bend in the lane, Connie was no longer to be seen.
Laura was not long deceived. A footbridge crossed the railway. Connie must have used it. Laura spurted, and saw Connie disappearing down a twisting path which reason informed her must come out somewhere along that part of the Great West Road which the two girls had already traversed.
She soon found herself in a small park or pleasure ground where children were playing. Of Connie there was still no sign, and it took Laura several minutes to find the gate. She came on to the Great West Road again, but still could see nothing of Connie.
She cursed herself briefly for not having closed up on her sooner, but wasted little time in regrets. She walked to the bus stop and waited. Less than a quarter of an hour later she was again at the block of flats she had visited with Mrs Bradley, and was ringing the bell marked Brown.
Connie opened the door. Laura thrust her way in, although Connie tried hard to keep her out. She might as well have tried to stop a tank as Laura’s ten-stone-nine of bone and muscle. She had to give way, tall and strong though she was, and Laura stood in the hall and closed the front door behind her with her heel.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, aware of Connie’s terrified eyes. ‘I’ve come from Mrs Bradley. She’s worried about you. Why did you run off like that?’
‘You lent me the money. You can’t stop me now,’ said Connie.
‘Who wants to stop you, you little fathead? I want to know what you think you’re doing, that’s all.’
‘I’m running away from Uncle Edris.’
‘Uncle? That’s a new one, isn’t it?’