Fallen Skies Read online

  “He’s not there,” Lily said blankly. “He’s not in the garden. The pram has gone.”

  “Impossible,” Muriel said. “Cook must have brought him in. Or Coventry.”

  Breaking all the rules of proper behaviour, Lily ran down the stairs to the kitchen and burst in without knocking on the baize door. Cook, who was sitting with her feet up on the brass fender before the range and gossiping with Browning, bustled to her feet.

  “Have either of you brought Christopher in?” Lily demanded. “Brought him in from the garden, just now?”

  The two women looked blankly at her. “No, Mrs. Winters,” Browning replied. “He’s having his morning nap.”

  Lily tore past them, wrenched open the back door and went out into the garden. She had a momentary foolish thought that the pram would be there, and Christopher kicking his feet, or starting a protesting wail at the rain. The garden was empty.

  Lily ran to where the pram had been, opposite the little stone seat. The begonias danced and bobbed as the raindrops fell on their petals. Lily looked all around the garden as if the pram could have been mislaid, or pushed out of sight.

  She went to the garden gate which had been banging in the wind. The stone which she had wedged in place had been pushed away by the gate, which clearly had been opened from the outside. There was a deep groove in the earth where the stone had been pushed back. The gate banged as Lily looked at it, uncomprehending.

  She ran to the gate and tore it open. Beyond it was the courtyard, and her car parked neatly to one side; beside it the open garage where the Argyll was kept. She peered into the garage in case someone, some passer-by, had seen the pram in the rain and interferingly pushed it into shelter. The garage was damp and cold and smelled of oil. There was a dark patch on the floor.

  Lily turned away and ran across the little cobbled courtyard. The big double gates to the road stood open, hooked back. Lily took two or three steps, first to the right, and then to the left. Apart from rain, which was coming down harder, dancing on the tarmac, the road was completely empty.

  Nanny Janes under a big dark umbrella with Muriel beside her came out through the garden gate. Lily turned to them a face as blank and white as a lost child.

  “Where is Christopher?” she asked. “What has happened? Where is he?”

  “My dear . . .” Muriel began and then she broke off. She looked at Nanny Janes.

  I think we should return to the house and telephone Mr. Winters,” Nanny Janes said solemnly. “He will decide what should be done next.”

  Without a word Lily turned and ran towards the sea, to The Parade and the promenade. There was no-one in sight. No-one boating on the Canoe Lake, no child lagging behind to rescue a little model boat. Noone feeding the swans. No-one hastily pushing a pram away.

  Lily ran across the little road. There was a man lounging in the small cabin beside the upturned boats. A sign over his head showed the prices for boat hire.

  “Have you seen someone with a pram?” Lily demanded, falling over the words in her anxiety. “Someone pushing a pram away from that house? A dark blue pram? A big pram?”

  “Today?” the man asked.

  Lily stamped her foot in her impatience. “Just now! Just now! A few moments ago!”

  The man shook his head slowly. “I can’t say I have,” he said. “But I wasn’t looking out for anyone. I wasn’t watching in that general direction.”

  Lily swore under her breath and ran towards the seafront and the raised promenade. She climbed the steps and looked along the shingle beach. It was empty. There was no-one strolling near the waves, no-one taking the air. The rain was coming down more heavily, sweeping in great curtains off the sea. In the distance she could see two women running, hand-in-hand, for shelter. But there was no pram, there was no Christopher.

  Lily shaded her eyes against the rain. Looking as carefully as she could in both directions she could see nothing except the rain-washed promenade and the empty beach with waves curling and sucking on the pebbles. The great scuds of rain blew in and blinded her, but Lily stood, straining her eyes to see better until she was certain that the promenade and the lower road were empty.

  She gave a quick decisive nod and ran back towards the house. She turned to the right along The Parade and ran the length of the block before she stopped and stared before her. There were a few detached houses overlooking the strip of grass before the sea. Further down there was a small tennis club with two grass courts empty in the rain. Lily stood still and scanned the road carefully for any movement. There was no-one walking. There was no-one pushing a pram. There was no-one running, with their arms wrapped tightly around them, holding a precious bundle. Whoever had taken Christopher had not gone that way.

  Lily turned on her heel and ran back past the house in the opposite direction. There was a baker’s cart going away from the house. Lily ran alongside it and shouted up at the driver. He stopped the horse and stared down at her. She looked wild and dangerous. The rain had plastered her hair to her scalp and she was red and panting from her run. Her eyes were desperate.

  “Have you seen a pram?” Lily demanded. “A blue pram? Just now? Coming from number two?”

  “You’ve never lost your baby?” the man demanded. “What happened?”

  “Have you seen a pram?” Lily repeated, her voice rising higher into a shriek. “Have you seen anyone with a baby?”

  “You wouldn’t think it possible!” the man exclaimed. “Taken from the street, was it?”

  “Please!” Lily said brokenly, and suddenly the tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and salty, unlike the cold sweet rain. “Please just tell me if you have seen anyone.”

  The man shook his head. “No-one,” he said. “You’d better tell the police. Is your husband not at home?”

  Lily shook her head, turned from the cart and ran back to the back gate of the house. Sally was there, standing in the rain, wringing her hands.

  “Mrs. Winters!” she said.

  “Have you found him? Oh Christ! I was so afraid!” Lily demanded, suddenly flooded with gladness. “Where was he? Who found him?”

  Sally shook her head and Lily saw the tears in her eyes. “No!” she said. “Where can he be?”

  Lily shook her head and ran northwards, away from the house to the end of the road. The streets were deserted. The town was quiet, only the rain gurgling in gutters and trickling down drains replied as Lily, suddenly losing control, screamed out, as loud as she could: “Christopher! Christopher! Christopher! Where are you?”

  Sally caught up with her at the corner and took her arm. “Come on, Mrs. Winters,” she said. “Come home. They’ve telephoned for Mr. Stephen. He’ll come as soon as he can. Come home. Your baby’s not here.”

  Lily turned a haggard face to the tweeny. “Then where is he?” she demanded. “Where’s Christopher?” Panic swept over Lily and she twisted and struggled in the woman’s grip. “Christopher! Where is he? Where’s my baby?”

  Sally dragged Lily home. The rain was getting heavier and the thunder rumbled threateningly as they neared the house. The road and the wet-roofed houses were lit by an ominous yellow light. The storm was far out to sea but coming nearer. They could see the crackle of lightning low on the horizon.

  “Oh God!” Lily said. “Where is he?”

  The front door was open and Muriel was standing in the doorway, looking out into the rain.

  “Come in, dear!” she said as soon as she saw Lily. “Come out of the rain, there’s nothing you can do!”

  Lily ran up the steps and took her mother-in-law’s arm in a hard grip. “Why?” she asked. “Why d’you say that?”

  Muriel drew her into the hall, reckless for once of the polished floor and the expensive rugs. “I just mean that you won’t find him running around, dear. Nothing more than that. Try and compose yourself.”

  She turned to Browning. “Take Mrs. Winters upstairs and help her change her dress,” she said. “Lily, you’re wet through.”