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.‘I’ll have the constables check these.We should know by the end of the day.Go through those ledgers again and see if you missed anything.Are you sure that’s everything of Walker’s?’‘It’s everything the clerk gave me.’Harper could feel the tension throughout his body.Every fibre seemed to prickle inside his skin.He was right, he knew he was right.He had to be right.It was Tosh Walker, he was certain of it.But right now he could almost hear the man laughing at them.TWENTY-ONE‘Nothing,’ Reed said in exasperation, throwing the pen across the desk.‘You’re sure?’‘I’m bloody positive.’ His voice rose.‘For God’s sake, I’ve been through it all four times.There’s nothing else in Walker’s name.’Through the afternoon the uniforms had reported in on the other addresses.Every one was used legitimately.‘I—’ Harper began but the sergeant cut him off.‘Tom, maybe it’s not Walker.Have you thought about that? We could be wasting all this time.’‘It’s him.I’m certain of it.’‘Tell me where, then.Because I’m buggered if I know.’ Reed glanced at the closed door to the superintendent’s office.‘Kendall’s left for the day.Why don’t you go home and come at it again on Monday?’‘Tomorrow.I’ll be in tomorrow.’The sergeant shrugged, arranging all the papers on his desk into careful, exact piles.‘You do what you want.I’ll see you on Monday morning.’Harper leaned back in his chair.Outside he could hear the day shift ending and handing over to the night men.He didn’t want to believe he was wrong.He didn’t want to believe that Martha was dead.Just a week had passed since Ash had told him the girl had gone to her non-existent aunt.A week; it felt like a month.Maybe Billy was right, he should just leave it for today, put work out of his mind for a while.But he knew he wouldn’t.It would nag and worry at him.Tomorrow he’d be back here, and every day until he had an answer.Until he walked out of the door of his lodgings, Billy Reed still wasn’t absolutely certain he was going to Middleton.Saturday’s sun had given way to Sunday cloud, but the air was still warm, humid enough to have him sweating in his suit before he’d walked all the way down Woodhouse Lane.He’d stopped at the Hyde Park Hotel the night before, his head swirling from the day.His search had taken him to Horsforth and Meanwood, and the dressing down he’d received on Friday still rang in his ears and stung in his heart.It was one reason he’d stopped after a single drink.He’d been about to ask for another, the coins jingling in his fist.Then he looked at the sparkling glass and decided he’d had enough.He’d strolled home, eaten supper with his landlady and gone to bed early.The train reached Middleton exactly on time.He pulled back the door to the compartment and stepped on to the platform, one of just five passengers alighting as the engine stopped in a thick hiss of steam.Elizabeth was waiting beyond the barrier, just as she’d promised, with the children lined up in front of her.Four of them, he thought.He’d been trying to imagine all this on the journey.He’d spent so little time around children.He hadn’t really known a family since he left to join the army.He wasn’t even sure the idea held much for him.He’d been so used to being solitary; it seemed safer that way.‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ she said, her eyes nervous, all the confidence of the other day vanished from her face.‘This is John, Emily, Edward and Victoria.’ She tapped each child lightly on the head as she named them.They were all looking up at him expectantly, the older girl about ten or twelve, the younger boy little more than four.One by one he formally shook their hands.‘Hello,’ he told them.‘I’m Mr Reed.’By the time they’d walked through the village the children had found their spirit again, running and laughing, hiding and jumping.He walked next to Elizabeth.She’d said little since they’d left the station beyond the English small talk of work and weather.‘When the train pulled in I thought I’d made a fool of myself,’ she said suddenly.‘Why? I’m here.’‘I know, but …’ She began to blush.‘I’d been so forward with you.I wonder if maybe you’d decided …’ She shrugged.‘You know.’‘But I came.’‘Yes.’ Elizabeth beamed.‘You did.And I’m glad.’Three hours later they returned to the same spot.He’d have bought ices for the children, but this wasn’t Roundhay Park and there was no one selling them.There was little enough of anything in Middleton, and it was all closed for the Sabbath.Elizabeth’s shyness had slowly vanished as they’d walked and talked.The pithead wheels were still, the village quiet.She told him about the husband who died in a pit accident.No compensation; the owners had insisted it was his fault and she had no means to fight it.She’d moved away from the house where she’d been a wife and gone back to her mother, two women raising four children.But she wasn’t sorry for herself.It was fact, it had happened, she accepted it all.He said little about army life, just a few humorous tales, and even less about his time in the police.Mostly he listened; that was much easier than talking.The children ran and played.Some games he remembered from childhood, others they’d conjured up themselves.By the time they reached the station, the boys and girls in a ragged line behind them, she was the girl he’d met a few days before, eyes full of mischief, her mouth in a smile.‘Do you fancy doing this again, then?’ she asked.It was bright and bold, but he could hear the hopeful note underneath.She didn’t look at him as she spoke.‘I do,’ he answered, and meant it.He’d enjoyed every minute.This seemed to be the way things ought to be, so normal, so ordinary.So unlike everything he’d known.He wanted it.‘Next Sunday?’ She nodded and he continued, ‘Why don’t you all come into Leeds? We can go to the park.’ He saw four sets of eyes widen even as Elizabeth’s seemed to sadden.It was expensive to take a whole family on a train.Gently, he drew her aside.‘If I’m asking you all out, I should pay,’ he told her, slipping coins for the train fare in her hand.She said nothing at first, weighing them in her palm.For a moment he wondered if she’d throw them back at him in anger.The she smiled and nodded.‘Thank you.’He said his farewells, addressing each of the children by name, then looked at her.‘Next Sunday,’ he said.‘Noon at the station in Leeds.Thank you for today [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]