As the Crow Flies Read online

  Once over the bridge he took the first left and maintained his speed until the great iron gates of Guy’s came into view. As he swung into the courtyard and round the circular flower bed he spotted Grace and two men in long white coats standing waiting, a stretcher by their side. Charlie brought the car to a halt almost on their toes.

  The two men lifted Becky gently out and placed her on the stretcher before rushing her up the ramp and into the hospital. Charlie jumped out of the car and marched by the stretcher holding Becky’s hand as they climbed a flight of stairs, Grace running by his side explaining that Mr. Armitage, the hospital’s senior obstetrician, was waiting for them in an operating theater on the first floor.

  By the time Charlie reached the doors of the theater, Becky was already inside. They left him outside in the corridor on his own. He began to pace up and down, unaware of others bustling past him as they went about their work.

  Grace came out a few minutes later to reassure him that Mr. Armitage had everything under control and that Becky could not be in better hands. The baby was expected at any moment. She squeezed her brother’s hand, then disappeared back into the theater. Charlie continued his pacing, thinking only of his wife and their first child, the sight of Trentham already becoming a blur. He prayed for a boy Tommy who would be a brother for Daniel and perhaps one day even take over Trumper’s. Pray God that Becky was not going through too much pain as she delivered their son. He paced up and down that long green-walled corridor mumbling to himself, aware once again how much he loved her.

  It was to be another hour before a tall, thickset man emerged from behind the closed doors, followed by Grace. Charlie turned to face them but as the surgeon had a mask over his face, Charlie had no way of knowing how the operation had gone. Mr. Armitage removed the mask: the expression on his face answered Charlie’s silent prayer.

  “I managed to save your wife’s life,” he said, “but I am so very sorry, Mr. Trumper, I could do nothing about your stillborn daughter.”

  CHAPTER

  21

  For several days after the operation Becky never left her room in the hospital.

  Charlie later learned from Grace that although Mr. Armitage had saved his wife’s life it might still be weeks before she was fully recovered, especially since it had been explained to Becky that she could never have another child without risking her own life.

  Charlie visited her every morning and evening, but it was over a fortnight before she was able to tell her husband how Guy Trentham had forced his way into the house and then threatened to kill her unless she told him where the picture was.

  “Why? I simply can’t understand why,” said Charlie.

  “Has the picture turned up anywhere?”

  “No sign of it so far,” he said, just as Daphne came in bearing a huge basket of provisions. She kissed Becky on the cheek before confirming that the fruit had been purchased at Trumper’s that morning. Becky managed a smile as she munched her way through a peach. Daphne sat on the end of the bed and immediately launched into all her latest news.

  She was able to let them know, following one of her periodic visits to the Trenthams, that Guy had disappeared off to Australia and that his mother was claiming he had never set foot in England in the first place, but traveled to Sydney direct from India.

  “Via the Gilston Road,” said Charlie.

  “That’s not what the police think,” said Daphne. “They remain convinced that he left England in 1920 and they can find no proof he ever returned.”

  “Well, we’re certainly not going to enlighten them,” said Charlie, taking his wife’s hand.

  “Why not?” asked Daphne.

  “Because even I consider Australia far enough away for Trentham to be left to his own devices: in any case nothing can be gained from pursuing him now. If the Australians give him enough rope I’m sure he’ll hang himself.”

  “But why Australia?” asked Becky.

  “Mrs. Trentham’s telling everyone who cares to listen that Guy has been offered a partnership in a cattle broker’s—far too good a position to turn down, even if it did mean having to resign his commission. The vicar is the only person I can find who believes the story.” But even Daphne had no simple answer as to why Trentham should have been so keen to get his hands on the little oil painting.

  The colonel and Elizabeth also visited Becky on several occasions and as he continually talked of the company’s future and never once referred to his resignation letter Charlie didn’t press him on the subject.

  It was to be Crowther who eventually enlightened Charlie as to who had purchased the flats.

  Six weeks later Charlie drove his wife home to Gilston Road—at a more stately pace—Mr. Armitage having suggested a quiet month resting before she considered returning to work. Charlie promised the surgeon that he would not allow Becky to do anything until he felt sure she had fully recovered.

  The morning Becky returned home Charlie left her propped up in bed with a book and headed back to Chelsea Terrace where he went straight to the jewelry shop he had acquired in his wife’s absence.

  Charlie took a considerable time selecting a string of cultured pearls, a gold bracelet and a lady’s Victorian watch, which he then instructed to be sent to Grace, to the staff nurse and to the nurse who had taken care of Becky during her unscheduled stay at Guy’s. His next stop was the greengrocer’s shop where he asked Bob to make up a basket of the finest fruit, while he personally selected a bottle of vintage wine from Number 101 to accompany it. “Send them both round to Mr. Armitage at 7 Cadogan Square, London SW1, with my compliments,” he added.

  “Right away,” said Bob. “Anything else while I’m at it?”

  “Yes, I want you to repeat that order every Monday for the rest of his life.”

  It was about a month later, in November 1922, that Charlie learned of the problems Arnold was facing with the simple task of replacing a shop assistant. In fact, selecting staff had become one of Arnold’s biggest headaches of late, because for every job that became vacant fifty to a hundred people were applying to fill it. Arnold would then put together a shortlist as Charlie still insisted that he interview the final candidates before any position was confirmed.

  On that particular Monday, Arnold had already considered a number of girls for the position as sales assistant at the flower shop, following the retirement of one of the company’s longest-serving employees.

  “Although I’ve already shortlisted three for the job,” said Arnold, “I thought you would be interested in one of the applicants I rejected. She didn’t seem to have the appropriate qualifications for this particular position. However—”

  Charlie glanced at the sheet of paper Arnold passed to him. “Joan Moore. Why would I—?” began Charlie, as his eyes ran swiftly down her application. “Ah, I see,” he said. “How very observant of you, Tom.” He read a few more lines. “But I don’t need a—well, on the other hand perhaps I do.” He looked up. “Arrange for me to see Miss Moore within the next week.”

  The following Thursday Charlie interviewed Joan Moore for over an hour at his home in Gilston Road and his first impression was of a cheery, well-mannered if somewhat immature girl. However, before he offered her the position as lady’s maid to Mrs. Trumper he still had a couple of questions he felt needed answering.

  “Did you apply for this job because you knew of the relationship between my wife and your former employer?” Charlie asked.

  The girl looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “And were you sacked by your previous employer?”

  “Not exactly, sir, but when I left she refused to supply me with a reference.”

  “What reason did she give for that?”

  “I was walkin’ out with the second footman, ’aving failed to inform the butler, who is in charge of the ’ousehold.”

  “And are you still walking out with the second footman?”

  The girl hesitated. “Yes, sir,” she said. “You