Fallen Skies Read online

  “And the bedding in the pram?”

  “A little white embroidered pillow,” Lily said. “A pair of white pram sheets, two white pram blankets, and then the pram canopy which is dark blue. The canopy was on.”

  “Anything else?”

  Lily shook her head. She could feel herself crying inside, a feeling she had never known before, not even at the death of her mother. She felt as if she could cry for ever and never be rid of this swelling fear and grief.

  “And the pram. What make was it?”

  “It was a Silver Star deluxe,” Lily said. “In deep blue with a blue hood and canopy. Silver spoked wheels and brakes.”

  “And what was the last time anyone saw the baby and the pram?”

  “In the garden,” Lily said carefully. “I was sitting with him. I came in to take a telephone call. I saw that it was starting to rain and I went out to fetch him in. The pram was gone and the garden gate had been opened. It must have been—” She broke off and glanced at Muriel.

  “About ten o’clock,” Muriel said. “No later than quarter past.”

  “So the baby had been alone how long?”

  “About fifteen minutes,” Lily said very quietly. “I was on the telephone. I had been sitting watching him a moment before. And Nanny Janes was watching him from the window.”

  The inspector nodded to the sergeant. “I think we’ve got enough for a description,” he said. “May the sergeant use your telephone?”

  “In the hall,” Muriel said. She rose to her feet and opened the door and pointed it out.

  “I forgot something,” Lily said suddenly. Both men looked at her. “Something else he was wearing,” she said. “He had little white knitted bootees, made out of lambs’ wool.” The thought of Christopher’s firm little feet released Lily’s flood of tears again. “Little white bootees,” she said, choking. “With white silk ribbon ties.”

  37

  THE INSPECTOR, the sergeant and the constable searched the small garden for clues. There was nothing to show that a pram had ever been there. Lily tried to show them exactly where it had stood on the wet grass, but there were not even wheelmarks to show for it. It was as if the pram, and her baby, had never been. Lily showed them the stone by the gate and how the gate had been pushed open. It was just a little stone, it would have taken very little effort to move it.

  They searched the cobbled courtyard and the street outside, looking for footprints, or wheelmarks, or the ends of cigarettes. They found nothing.

  Stephen came home while they were searching the street outside the garage. Lily was watching them from the dining room. She turned to him from the rainwashed window and ran towards him.

  “Oh, Stephen,” she said.

  Stephen put his arms out and Lily let him enfold her. He held her lovingly and gently and Lily let herself cry against the comforting warmth of his shoulder. Muriel, coming in to the dining room, saw Stephen’s face, calm and contented at last, as Lily cried, heartbroken, against his chest. “Stephen, where can he be?”

  Stephen patted her back and spoke over Lily’s head to his mother. “What do the police say?”

  Muriel shrugged. “Nothing as yet. They have alerted all the local forces. Whoever has taken him cannot have gone far. We called them within an hour.”

  Stephen nodded. “Taken from the garden?”

  Lily looked up and held his coat lapels. “I only left him for a moment,” she said urgently. “I just went in to the telephone. I would have been sitting and watching him sleep otherwise. Nanny Janes was in the nursery and she watches him from the window. I was only gone a moment.”

  Stephen covered her hands with his own in a comforting grip. “It’s all right, my darling,” he said gently. “I know. No-one is blaming you for a moment. It’s not your fault. We’ll get him back and we’ll be laughing about this tomorrow.”

  Lily shuddered and shook her head. “I can’t imagine laughing ever again,” she said.

  The policemen came back through the garden, their eyes still on the ground, and mounted the verandah steps. Muriel opened the door to them and indicated the door mat for their wet boots. They both wiped their feet very thoroughly as she watched them, before stepping inside.

  “You’ll be Mr. Stephen Winters, I take it,” the inspector said. Stephen, one hand still holding Lily’s, nodded his head.

  “Have you found any clues?”

  “I’m afraid not. But with the ground so hard and the sudden rainstorm, it was only ever an outside chance. I should like to ask you some questions, Sir.”

  “Of course,” Stephen said. “Mother, Lily, go and sit in the drawing room. Have a cup of coffee and ask them to bring a pot in here for us.” He glanced at Lily, noting her dishevelled hair and bare legs. “Go and get changed, dear,” he said. “Smarten up a bit.”

  Lily moved as he bid her and Muriel gathered her towards the door.

  “And try not to worry,” Stephen commanded. “This could all be over in ten minutes.”

  Lily cast a look back at him as if he were her only hope. Stephen smiled encouragingly at her and then switched his attention to Inspector Walker. “A bad business,” he said grimly, all optimism put to one side now that the women were out of earshot. “D’you think it’s a professional job?”

  The sergeant flipped open his notepad.

  “Do you have any enemies?” the inspector asked. “Anyone in your professional life? Someone whose defence failed, perhaps?”

  Stephen shook his head. “We do very little criminal work,” he said. “A man in my position is bound to rub up the wrong way against some chaps; but no-one springs to mind.”

  “Ever been threatened?” the inspector said. “Maybe from the war? Some old scores after conflict in the regiment? They weren’t always easy times, especially for young officers.”

  Stephen looked at him quickly. “What d’you mean?”

  The inspector shrugged. “Any shirkers in your battalion who thought you sent them out on patrol too often? Any complaints come to mind? We’re picking up a lot of men even now, years after the war, who can’t forget.”

  Stephen shook his head. “They were grand chaps,” he said. “Every one of them would have laid down his life for me.”

  The inspector nodded slowly. “Nearer home then,” he suggested. “Any members of your staff? Anyone sacked recently, anyone bearing a grudge from the office? Any unhappy maids? Any difficulties?”

  Stephen wrinkled his brow and then shook his head again. “I can’t think of anyone. Mother knows more about the running of the house than I do, but everyone we have has worked here for years. The maids, the cook, the gardener, my batman. They’ve all been with us for ever. And they all love Christopher. It couldn’t be one of them.”

  “Any suggestions at all?” the inspector asked.

  Stephen shook his head. “We’re the envy of all our friends,” he said. “We have a happy house, and my staff at the office are all happy. Why, some of Lily’s friends practically live here! They adore Christopher. Her accompanist is like a second father to him. He’s always taking him out for walks with Lily and playing with him. It’s a very happy household.”

  “Who are your most frequent visitors?” the inspector asked.

  “You’d have to ask my wife or my mother to be sure,” Stephen said. “Madge Sweet, Mrs. Sarah Dent, Lady Blakelock has called several times recently. Charlie Smith—he’s musical director at the Kings—he comes almost every afternoon to play the piano with my wife. John Pascoe from the office and his wife, some friends of my wife’s from the theatre. We see a lot of people.”

  “Anyone upset recently? Perhaps any of the ladies recently lost a child?”

  “Good God, no!” Stephen said vehemently. “I can’t think that it would be anyone we know. Why, someone like Charlie Smith would lay down his life for the baby! Ask my wife! He loves him like his own child! I can’t imagine it being someone we know.”

  “Are you acquainted with your neighbours at all? People who