It was the many camp funerals which finally made Thomas truly value his own life. Nothing was worse than to take the corner of a makeshift bamboo coffin on his shoulder and, with each step towards the freshly dug grave, endure the horror of his face, shoulders and chest becoming splattered with the dead man’s putrid bodily fluids, which were considerable if he’d died from beriberi. There was no dignity or glory in such an end, and Thomas vowed then that survival was all, that avoiding trouble was not cowardice but sanity.
But in the early hours of this morning Thomas realized it was time he found his old spirit and stood up again to be counted, whatever the personal cost.
As Rosie drew her brother on to the school gates, Alan looked back over his shoulder at Thomas. For just a moment their eyes met and Thomas smiled.
He knew then that, come what may, he would get Alan out of Cole Parker’s clutches. He just wished he could do something for Rosie too. From what Hilda had told him she had a hell of a life.
Chapter Three
‘Vic’s early today,’ Rosie said to Alan as she heard a vehicle draw up outside. It was Saturday morning, just after nine, and she was polishing the parlour table. ‘I’d better go and get some money off Dad.’
Vic was a travelling greengrocer. He called in his van every Saturday, but he didn’t normally get to May Cottage until eleven or twelve.
Alan climbed up on a chair to look out the window. ‘It’s not Vic,’ he said. ‘It’s policemen.’
Rosie was startled, and quickly checked to see if her brother was right. ‘So it is,’ she exclaimed, seeing PC Nutting, the local policeman, putting on his helmet. To her consternation he was accompanied by another man she did not know. He was wearing a peaked cap and he had stripes on the sleeve of his uniform. She thought he must be senior to Ernie Nutting.
Her father and brothers had only arrived home late last night after two weeks working away in London. They were tired and filthy but in high spirits, with a full lorry-load of Anderson shelters. For once they didn’t even go down to the pub, but climbed into the tin bath out in the yard, one after the other, then went straight to bed.
Seth and Norman were still in bed, Cole was in the kitchen eating his breakfast. For the police to call so soon after their return seemed very ominous, especially in a car. It was a common enough occurrence for Ernie Nutting to call in on his bicycle while on his beat; he’d dropped by just last Monday because he’d heard Rosie was alone with Alan in the cottage. But he wouldn’t call with another officer unless it was official business.
Pausing just long enough to tell Alan to stay where he was, Rosie ran out to warn her father.
Cole was just wiping the egg off his plate with a lump of bread as she blurted out the news. His braces were dangling down by his sides, but he was wearing a clean white vest and he’d shaved.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘Your dad ain’t done nothing.’ He merely picked up his tea and swigged it down noisily.
He stood up at the loud rapping on the door, hoisted his braces on to his shoulders and wiped the egg off his face with the back of his hand.
‘Let’s go and find out what they want,’ he said, and slinging one big arm round her shoulder he led her out of the back door with him and round to the front of the house.
Rosie was no fool. So maybe Cole didn’t have anything ‘hot’ in the house this time, but she knew that whenever he used her as a prop, he did have something to hide. When Ernie Nutting called to make inquiries after someone fitting Cole’s description had been seen bagging a brace of pheasant on the big estate over by Wells, or when car tyres had mysteriously disappeared from a neighbouring village, it helped Cole’s cause greatly having her around as a distraction, or to back him up with an alibi for the night in question. Rosie had always enjoyed these little bits of play-acting, it made her feel important.
‘Can’t open the front door, I’m afraid. Long since seized up with age, just like me,’ Cole joked to the two policemen. ‘Hullo, Ern! What brings you round here so early, and where’s the iron horse?’
Nutting grinned sheepishly and tweaked at his helmet. He was a big man with a round weather-beaten face that made him look much older than he was. Cole always claimed he was a pillock, but Rosie liked him because he was kind, jolly and a keen gardener. He often gave her seedlings he’d grown in his greenhouse. She wondered why he didn’t answer her father’s question about his bike.
The man in the peaked cap with Ernie was looking hard at her.
‘Is this your daughter, Mr Parker?’ he asked.
‘Yes, this is our Rosie,’ Cole smiled down at her affectionately, clamping his hand firmly on her shoulder. ‘Why, have you come to arrest her? What’s she been up to?’
Rosie suddenly remembered Thomas Farley. It was nearly three weeks since he was here, and in the two weeks her father had been away she’d hardly given him a passing thought. All at once she guessed this police visit was precipitated by him; it had nothing at all to do with Cole’s business activities. Her stomach churned.
‘Nothing, at least as far as we know. I’m Sergeant Headly from Bridgwater. I’ve called today with PC Nutting to make some inquiries about a missing person, Heather Farley.’ The policeman looked right at Rosie and smiled. He had bright blue eyes and a narrow dark moustache. Rosie thought he looked nice. She had a gut feeling that the smile was intended to reassure her he wasn’t going to tell Cole that Thomas had spoken to her already. ‘We believe she was your housekeeper, Mr Parker, for some four years? We’d also like to talk to her son Alan. As we understand it, Miss Farley left him in your care.’
Rosie held her breath for a moment, expecting her father to fly off the handle. But to her surprise he looked unconcerned.
‘Dunno that I can be much help,’ he said with a shrug. ‘As Ernie will tell you, she shot off three years since without a word to me or anyone else. You’d better come indoors to see the boy.’
As they walked around the house Rosie grew more anxious. She wished she’d had some warning so she could have dressed Alan in his school clothes. The patched grey shorts and too small flannel shirt he was wearing today made him look neglected.
It was the first time Rosie ever remembered her father taking anyone into the parlour. He always said he didn’t want people seeing the nice things he had in there because they might think he’d pinched them. It certainly was odd in that case to take a policeman in there. But even odder was that instead of looking irritated that Alan was cowering behind one of the armchairs, he picked him up in his arms.
‘This is my boy Alan. Say hullo to the policemen,’ he said and wiped a smudge off the boy’s face with a display of parental tenderness.
Alan was rendered rigid and speechless by his father’s unusual behaviour. Rosie was too; she’d never seen Cole pick Alan up before. He was far more likely to kick him out of the way.
‘He’s a bit shy,’ Cole said. ‘We don’t get many visitors out here.’
Rosie stood in the doorway of the parlour, not knowing whether to go right in, offer to make tea, or run for it. Ernie Nutting looked uneasy, he had taken off his helmet and he stood, turning it awkwardly in his hands. He avoided looking at Cole or Rosie.
‘How old are you, Alan?’ Sergeant Headly asked, taking a step nearer to Cole and the boy.
‘Five,’ Alan replied, looking towards Rosie for an explanation.
‘Well, let’s see how big a five-year-old is.’ The policeman indicated that Cole was to put him down.
Rosie was on tenterhooks. It was quite possible that Thomas had found people in the village a great deal more eager to talk about her family than she had been. Suppose someone had told him Cole and the boys were cruel to Alan? What if the policeman pulled up Alan’s shirt and saw the stripes on his back from the last caning he’d got just before they went to London?
But to her relief the senior policeman sat down on the sofa and chatted to Alan for a moment or two, asking him about school, how he was get
ting on with his reading and sums, then he patted the small boy’s bottom and told him to run along because he wanted to speak to his dad.
Rosie took Alan out into the kitchen and began to clear away the breakfast things. Once the parlour door was shut she could hear nothing but the low rumble of voices, too indistinct to allow her to eavesdrop.
‘Why did he talk to me, Rosie?’ Alan asked, taking the butter dish to the pantry to put it away. He looked puzzled rather than alarmed. He wasn’t used to being singled out for attention.
Rosie didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t explain that their visit was connected with his mother, as that might upset him. Besides, Seth or Norman might come down at any minute.
‘He was just being friendly,’ she said. ‘I expect he likes little boys.’
It was some ten minutes later just as Rosie was about to go down into the orchard with a bowl to pick some raspberries that she heard the bellow of Cole’s voice raised in anger.
‘Who said that? Give me the bastard’s name and I’ll drag him round here to make him admit he lied. I could’ve dumped the kid at an orphanage, but I’ve looked after him, fed and clothed him, even though his mother didn’t want him.’
Rosie wanted to stay and hear more, but she took one look at Alan’s stricken face, and knew she must get him out of earshot before he heard more.
Once down amongst the raspberry bushes Rosie considered the cause and likely outcome of this police visit. It was obvious from her father’s indignation that someone had been talking. It would almost certainly mean a good hiding for both Alan and herself.
Rosie was very scared of her father when he was angry and his good hidings were terrible, but her main concern now was for Alan. Cole was like the Devil himself when he laid into him, and it wasn’t right for such a little boy to be punished for something he knew nothing about.
Looking around her she tried to think of somewhere to hide Alan, but in her heart she knew that would be a pointless exercise as it would only make Cole even more angry when he finally found him.
Then an idea came to her.
For a moment she dismissed it as too extreme, but a glance sideways at Alan made her mind up for her. He was just standing there, white-faced, looking back at the house, his dark eyes wide with fright. There was nothing she could do to distract him. He knew just as she did that there was trouble brewing, and knew too he would get the worst of it.
Heather had spoken about Thomas so often that Rosie felt she knew him well. Just that one brief chat with him had confirmed that Heather hadn’t exaggerated his good qualities. This visit from the police was proof that he not only intended to find his sister, at all costs, but that he felt responsible for Alan’s welfare too.
Rosie had always tried to shield Alan from her father’s rages, but she hadn’t been able to prevent the last beating he’d received. All he’d done was drop a couple of eggs in the yard and Cole had taken the cane to his back. Now she suddenly understood that by hiding her father’s and brothers’ cruelty to the boy she was actually condoning it. That made her as bad as them.
Her idea was drastic and she’d be in deep trouble with her father once he found out. But for Alan’s sake, she had to do it, whatever the consequences. Thomas cared enough to send the police here, so he would look out for Alan whether or not he found Heather. Yet all the same Rosie felt heartsick. She loved her little brother so much, she couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from him.
One further glance at him was enough though. He was trembling, unable even to pick a few raspberries. She knew then that his safety today and in the future was far more important than her own feelings. Maybe his Uncle Thomas wouldn’t be able to look after Alan himself, but even putting him in a children’s home was better for him than staying here.
Blinking back her tears she dropped down to her knees and caught hold of her brother, looking right into his eyes. They were soft and trusting. Maybe if he went away now he would grow up to be different from Norman and Seth. She owed Heather a great deal; the least she could do now was make sure she acted in her little boy’s best interests.
‘Alan,’ she said, holding him to her tightly. ‘I want you to do something very quietly, very cleverly, so no one sees you.’
She gave him his instructions, making them as simple as possible.
He listened carefully, his head cocked to one side, the sunshine on his hair making it glow like burning embers in a fire.
‘You mean now?’ he asked, looking anxious, but not opposed to the idea.
‘Yes, now, while Dad’s still indoors talking. When he comes out with the police I’ll pretend you are still down here picking raspberries.’
‘But why can’t you come too?’
Rosie wished she could. ‘I have to stay here so they don’t suspect anything.’
‘But when will I see you again?’ Alan’s eyes were suddenly wary. His fingers reached out to cling on to her.
‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘Just do what I said, tell them what I said. Now go and keep right down under the fence.’
Helping him through the barbed wire on the fence at the side of the orchard she kissed him one more time and patted his bottom in the direction of the road when he hesitated. She just wished she could tell him that there was someone else out there who loved him, but there was no time for that now.
‘Clever boy,’ she said, biting back tears. ‘Go on, now.’
Rosie waited behind the raspberry bushes until she saw the policemen coming out of the kitchen door. As she had half expected Cole followed them, smiling genially.
She sighed. Cole had a knack of bending people to his will. She had no doubt he’d managed to convince the sergeant that he was a wonderful father to Alan, and Ernie Nutting would go along with it because he was just as scared of Cole as everyone else around here. She forced herself to run back towards the yard as if the two policemen were visiting neighbours she wanted to say goodbye to.
‘I’m just sorry you were dragged out on a fool’s errand,’ she heard Cole say as he shook the men’s hands. ‘There’s people around here who would accuse the Pope of wrongdoing. Between us, I was a fool over Heather; I should have known better than to think I could make a city girl settle out here. She hurt me very bad when she ran off, but that don’t mean I’d take it out on our little boy. But I suppose I’ve earned my reputation as a hard man, and I have to live with all the suspicion that comes with it. If the boy’s uncle wants to see him, that’s all right with me.’
Sergeant Headly turned towards Rosie as she came running up with a bowl of raspberries in her hands. ‘Hullo! What’ve you done with Alan?’
‘He’s down there picking raspberries,’ she said, waving her arm vaguely in the direction of the orchard.
Headly stepped closer to her and took a raspberry from her bowl. ‘Umm,’ he said appreciatively as he ate it. ‘My favourite. Keep up the good work.’ He smiled warmly at her. ‘Your father has been telling us what a good little mother you make. And that you’re something of an expert on flowers.’
Rosie blushed and looked down at her feet. As usual she was barefoot and they were very dirty. She felt ashamed, not only of her feet but also her stained and torn dress.
‘We’ll be off then.’ Sergeant Headly spoke directly to Cole, and put his cap back on. ‘Sorry to have taken up so much of your morning.’
Rosie held her breath until she heard the car drive away. But just as she took the first big gasp of air, Cole rounded on her.
‘Get that little bastard and bring him here,’ he snarled at her, his face taking on a purplish hue. ‘I’ll teach him to complain he’s been ill-treated!’
‘What do you think then, sir?’ Ernie Nutting asked as the senior officer drove back towards Ashcott where Ernie was stationed. Ernie had been very surprised yesterday when he’d been given orders to accompany the County Sectional Sergeant from Bridgwater on this inquiry. As the local beat officer he knew all the Parkers well, and all the old st
ories about them, but he felt that most of those about Cole were exaggerated. In his book the two sons were black-hearted rogues, but Cole was a character. Maybe he didn’t keep his house in order, he drank too much, he was hot-tempered and possibly a bit unscrupulous in his business dealings, but he added a bit of colour to the community. As for Rosie, she was one of the nicest kids Ernie had ever met. How could she be like that if her father really was such a blaggard?
Ernie hadn’t met Sergeant Headly more than three or four times before, but he knew he had a reputation for being highly intelligent and intuitive. Ernie was a bit puzzled now he’d seen him in action. On the way over here he’d given him the impression that this was a very serious inquiry, yet the minute they got in the door of the Parker place, he’d seemed entirely on Cole’s side, chatting as if it was just a social call. When he finally got around to raising the point about suspected cruelty to Alan, and asked why Cole hadn’t reported the two women missing, he’d even sounded embarrassed. Ernie had expected that a senior officer would be much tougher.
‘I think the man’s a –’ Headly paused mid-sentence at a rustle from the back of the car. Both men jerked their heads round.
‘Well I never,’ Headly exclaimed, as he glimpsed Alan crouching down behind the front seats. He pulled over to the side of the road immediately, and leaned over the seat. ‘What on earth are you doing in here, sonny?’
‘Rosie told me to do it,’ Alan squeaked. ‘She said I was to hide in here and tell you things.’
‘A police car is no place for pranks,’ Ernie said in the pompous voice he always kept for small bad boys. He might have cuffed him round the ear too, but before he could move, Headly got out of the car, pulled his seat forward and held out his arms to the boy.
Sergeant Ronald Headly was a family man with five children ranging from fifteen down to three. In over twenty years in the force he’d seen countless frightened children, but he didn’t remember ever having been quite so moved as he was by this small boy’s fear.