THIRTY-ONE

      All the lights were blazing when Amos Finnister finally arrived at Haddon House, and they were a most welcome sight, gladdened his heart. Lifting the brass knocker, he banged it several times, and within a couple of seconds the door was opened.

      To his utter surprise he stood staring at the familiar and lovely face of Will Hasling’s sister, Mrs Vicky Forth. She was looking as surprised as he was himself.

      ‘Goodness gracious, it’s you, Mr Finnister!’ she gasped, then immediately added, ‘Do please come in, won’t you?’

      ‘Evening, Mrs Forth,’ he replied at once, stepping into the vestibule. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, ma’am, and especially in the evening.’

      ‘I’m helping Lady Fenella two days a week,’ Vicky explained, ‘and my presence here this evening is rather unusual, Mr Finnister. There was an emergency, you see, and Lady Fenella asked me to come in to help her deal with it. But please, let us not stand here in the chilly foyer. Come into the great room where there’s a fire.’ Peering at the sleeping boy with immense curiosity, she then asked, ‘And who is this little fellow?’

      ‘I found him out on the streets, Mrs Forth,’ Amos answered as together they walked into the large main room where there were several big sofas, plenty of comfortable chairs, as well as a long trestle table covered with a white cloth. ‘He was hiding in a cart,’ Amos explained and quickly filled her in as they made their way over to the fireplace.

      The lamplight, the sudden warmth and the voices caused the boy to stir in Amos’s arms, and he suddenly awakened, began to struggle at once. ‘Steady on, laddie,’ Amos murmured and placed the boy on the floor. Again he seemed a little unsteady on his feet for a second, and then he looked up at Amos, appearing afraid. He was shivering excessively.

      ‘Are you cold, lad?’

      The boy nodded.

      ‘Come on then, let’s get you settled here by the fire for a little bit. And then I’ll get you that nice glass of milk I promised you.’

      The boy clung to Amos’s hand as they moved towards the roaring fire. ‘Sit here, laddie.’ The boy hesitated in front of the chair; Amos lifted him up and plopped him down in it.

      ‘You’ll soon feel much warmer,’ he murmured, and hurried over to Vicky who was hovering near the trestle table, waiting for him. ‘Could we get him something to drink, Mrs Forth? Perhaps water, if you can’t spare the milk, although I did promise the little mite a glass of milk.’

      ‘Of course he can have some milk, but do you think he might like a cup of cocoa? Children do love it, and certainly it would warm him up.’

      ‘Oh, what a grand idea, it is indeed! Thank you.’

      ‘I’ll go and tell Mrs Barnes to make a jug of cocoa for all of us. You look as if you could use a hot drink yourself. Back in a moment, Mr Finnister.’

      Vicky Forth was as good as her word; she returned at once and informed Amos that the cocoa would be made within minutes. ‘Now, please tell me more about the boy.’

      ‘I’ve told you most of what I know, Mrs Forth. He said he’d been kicked out by the man who had killed his mother, but, of course, we don’t know if that’s true, the bit about the man killing her. However, I do have a strong feeling that his mother really is dead. He said something about her being in Potters Field.’

      ‘Then I agree with you. She probably passed away and the boy could easily have been unwanted after she was gone. Perhaps he was sent into the streets, if the man they were living with was not his father. You told me he said he had no name.’

      ‘That’s right. Well, he did give me a name of sorts, but I couldn’t possibly repeat it to a lady like you, Mrs Forth.’

      Vicky smiled at him. ‘Oh you can, Mr Finnister, believe me you certainly can repeat it. You’d be surprised what I’ve heard around here. Then again, you might not be. After all, you were once a policeman in these parts, so my brother told me.’

      ‘Indeed I was, ma’am, and I do know the area well. My father brought me here quite a lot when I was a boy.’ He sighed, and lowering his voice, he muttered, ‘He said his name was Liddle Bugger.’

      ‘How awful for the child,’ Vicky shook her head. ‘It staggers the imagination what some people do, the way they wilfully hurt innocent children, harm them in the worst possible way.’ She paused, looked toward the kitchen door. ‘Ah, here comes Mrs Barnes with the cocoa.’

      Mrs Barnes nodded and smiled when she saw Amos. Crossing to the long table she placed the tray with the jug and cups on it, and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen, intent on her business. A volunteer, this was her night to look after the food.

      ‘Thank you, Vanessa,’ Vicky called after her. At the table she poured cocoa into the three cups. ‘Come along, here’s a cup for you, Mr Finnister,’ she said and carried a second cup over to the boy, who was curled up in the large armchair.

      He raised his head when he saw her, and instantly cowered in a corner of the chair. But then, as he suddenly focused on her properly, his eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter, staring at her intently.

      ‘Hello, little boy,’ Vicky said to him, offering the cup. ‘Don’t be afraid. Look, I’ve brought you a cup of warm cocoa: it’s lovely, it tastes of chocolate. I know you’ll enjoy it.’ As she spoke he listened most attentively, and his eyes did not leave her face.

      Standing in front of the armchair, Vicky leaned toward him, again offering the cup of cocoa. Unexpectedly, with a jerky movement, the boy reached out and touched her hair, then drew back swiftly.

      Vicky simply smiled at him, and handed him the cup. For once he let go of the cloth bag he was clutching to him and took the cup from her. His eyes were still wide, the look of surprise lingering on his small face.

      She, too, was surprised; in fact, the child had startled her when he had reached out in the way he had. She had almost pulled back, but managed, somehow, to remain perfectly still when he had touched her hair.

      She noticed he was not drinking the cocoa; his eyes were fixed on her face; he appeared to be mesmerized by her.

      Vicky said softly, ‘Have a sip of the cocoa. It’s very good. I’m going to have a cup myself.’

      The boy finally nodded, did as she said.

      Amos had been watching Vicky with the boy, and now he came over to join her by the fireside, bringing the two cups with him. ‘Here you are, Mrs Forth,’ he murmured, handing her a cup. ‘Ah, I see you’re enjoying it, laddie. That’s good.’

      The boy looked at Amos and nodded, then he said in a low mumble, ‘Mam…like Mam.’

      Frowning, Amos glanced at Vicky.

      She said, ‘I think he’s referring to his mother when he says Mam. It’s Yorkshire. I suppose he might be suggesting I look like her.’

      Amos raised a brow, then glanced at the boy, who was now drinking down the cocoa and no longer paying attention to them.

      There was the sound of footsteps and as Amos peered across the room he saw Lady Fenella, and, much to his surprise, Chief Inspector Mark Ledbetter of Scotland Yard.

      The two of them walked into the great room, and when Mark Ledbetter spotted Amos his face lit up. As he came to a stop he stuck out his hand, and exclaimed, ‘How nice to see