Perseverance Street (24 page)

As Bannister drove back to
Leeds, along with the constable he’d brought along, he didn’t know what to think. Mrs Randle’s story checked out with the estate agent who confirmed that she’d once been the housekeeper at Lark House and that they’d employed her to help prepare the house for the auction.

First thing tomorrow morning he’d be at that transport café between Grassington and Skipton with photos of Randle, Lily and Michael. He was secretly hoping that the man would recognise them and confirm Lily’s version of events, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

Bannister stood in front
of the Wharfedale Café with his hands on his hips and a look of resignation on his face. It was eight a.m. and the place was closed and up for sale. He walked round the back to see if there were any living quarters but all he found was a garage, kitchen, toilets and some sort of storeroom. On the way it had occurred to him that he ought to call in to Malton police station purely as a matter of courtesy to inform them of what he was doing on their patch and to ask what they knew about the owners, but it seemed a waste of time. Not any more. He needed to find out where the owners had gone.

The estate agents were Weetman and Penn, the same as the ones selling Lark House and he wondered if this was a coincidence. Probably not. Estate agents weren’t exactly thick on the ground in Grassington, but it might be more fruitful to ask them where the café owners were.

Ten minutes later he was outside the offices of Weetman and Penn, mildly cursing at a sign that said they didn’t open until nine. He was peckish, having had no breakfast, so he drove around Grassington looking for a café that might be open or a shop that might sell him a bar of chocolate. But the entire village, it seemed, didn’t open until at least nine o’clock. He remembered Lily saying that Randle had been down to the village to get milk but couldn’t get any. If her story were true, that part of it would make sense.

The problem with her story
was that the overall picture didn’t make sense. If Randle had abducted the child for sexual purposes – and Bannister couldn’t think of any other reason – a man of his age would have some sort of history in that field, especially if his wife was in it with him. But Randle had no criminal record of any kind and his military record was unblemished, albeit unheroic. The Randles had no children of their own and had never been seen with any, particularly around the time Michael had been abducted. Nor had Randle ever shown any unhealthy interest in children. Bannister’s enquiries at Eden Camp had been discreet but thorough. He knew how to do his job. He thought about Charlie’s interruptions the previous day and muttered to himself.
Don’t try to tell me how to do my job, Mister!

Penn arrived at five minutes to nine and parked at the back of the offices. Bannister was standing in front of the door as Penn opened it for business.

‘Ah, it’s er …?’

‘Detective Sergeant Bannister of the Leeds City police.’

‘Of course. How can I help you, Detective Sergeant? I assume it’s to do with the events at Lark House, last April.’

‘It’s in connection with that – but what I need to know is the whereabouts of the owners of the Wharfedale Café which you appear to be selling on their behalf. They may be able to help us with our enquiries.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, I can only
give you the whereabouts of one of the joint owners, that is the wife – Olga Fairclough. You see, they split up in May. Apparently he ran off with one of the part-time waitresses. A young woman half his age. No idea where he is, but his wife might know. She lives here in Grassington but I’m not sure how obliging she’ll be. She’s taken this whole thing very badly.’

‘Right, well, could you give me her address and directions, please. I believe they have a daughter who worked there.’

‘Yes, she lives with her mother. You might get more sense out of her.’

Olga Fairclough and her eighteen-year-old daughter, Peggy, had both taken a good look at the photographs Bannister had showed them and neither recognised Lily, Michael or Randle.

‘It will have been about a month before, er …’

‘Before me husband ran off with that bloody woman!’ said Olga. Her daughter put a hand on her mother’s arm.

‘Mum and I both worked mostly in the kitchen. We didn’t get to see many of the customers.’

‘But your father will have seen them.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Olga bitterly. She stabbed a finger at Lily’s photo. ‘He’ll have clocked her all right, pretty woman like that – and he’ll probably remember her.’

Peggy was nodding her agreement. It seemed as though her father had made enemies of both of them.

‘But you don’t know
where he is?’

‘No idea,’ snapped Olga, ‘but he’ll crawl out from under his stone when the café gets sold, tryin’ ter claim his half of the money. I tell yer, he’s got a shock comin’ to him. He’ll get bugger-all if I have owt ter do with it. This house is in joint names as well – bought and paid for, but I’m stayin’ put. He’s not sellin’ this from under my feet. Yer can tell him that when yer see him.’

Bannister scratched his head. ‘That’s the problem. I can’t see him if I don’t know where he is.’

‘If we hear anything we’ll let you know,’ said Peggy.

‘Thank you. I’ll see myself out.’

He got into his car wondering if he should call in at Malton police station. He should by rights have called in as soon as he came on to their patch, so he might have to apologise for that to start with. He knew he’d have to grit his teeth and call in because they just might have a clue as to the whereabouts of the errant café owner.

They didn’t.

Time moved on for Lily at an
excruciatingly slow pace. She was missing Christopher, she was missing Michael and she was missing Larry. She knew who the man was who’d taken Michael but she couldn’t do anything about it. The police couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Dee would if she only could. Her only hope seemed to be to take up Charlie on his offer to beat the truth out of Randle.

Dee was wondering whether or not to offer her motorbike combination in part exchange for a van she’d seen in the paper. She’d mentioned it to Lily, who had other things on her mind.

‘Charlie thinks he could get the truth out of him,’ she said.

Despite her own propensity for violence, Dee was dead against it. ‘If anything happens to Randle, Charlie will be number one suspect. I don’t know too much about what he did in the army but he sounds as if he was trained to do some very dodgy stuff. You know Charlie’s potty about you, don’t you?’

‘We’re just friends, that’s all.’

‘Well, I should have a word with that friend of yours and tell him you don’t want him charging in. Using force could ruin things for all of us, especially for Michael.’

‘I know, but it’s been
a month since we found out about Randle and we’re no nearer getting the truth out of him. I sometimes feel like going over there and beating it out of them myself.’

‘You and me both, girl.’

‘They must be laughing at me right now.’

‘If they are,’ Dee said, ‘I might have an idea to make them laugh on the other side of their faces.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Well, from what I gather, Randle isn’t the most popular kid on camp.’

‘Pretty much the opposite according to Jimmy and Brenda.’

‘Who’s Brenda?’

‘She’s in the ATS. Works at Eden camp as some sort of receptionist.’

‘And she’s not a fan of Randle?’

‘You could say that. She’s got a right mouth on her. Didn’t take to her at first, but when I realised how much she disliked Randle I sort of warmed to her.’

Dee smiled. ‘She sounds about right. We need everyone on that camp to know what the Randles have done. We need to find someone who’ll spread the story.’

‘Ah … and you think Brenda’s the one? She might enjoy it.’

‘What about asking that pal of Charlie’s as well?’

‘Jimmy? Yeah, he might help.’ Lily thought for a few moments. A rumour about child abduction would turn everyone on camp against the Randles. ‘If such a rumour takes off it could be really poisonous for the Randles,’ she murmured.

‘Oh dear,’ said Dee. ‘That would never do.’

Within the hour Lily
was talking to Brenda on the phone, telling her the full story. Brenda was instantly on Lily’s side.

‘Oh my God, Lily! I knew there was something he’d done to you but I didn’t think it was as bad as that. I asked Jimmy but he wouldn’t tell me. Said he didn’t know, but I didn’t believe him.’

‘Jimmy knows all about it, so does Charlie. They can tell who they like. So can you.’

‘Lily, are you and Charlie, er…?’

‘Charlie and I are friends.’ Lily found it a hard answer to give.

‘Right. I quite fancied him myself at one time but I’ve got a feller of my own now. RAF officer based at Church Fenton.’

‘Brylcreem Boy eh?’

‘Oh, he’s lovely. Flight Lieutenant James Durkin-Smyth. Met him at a dance.’ She paused for a few seconds, then said, ‘Lily, I hardly know you. Why have you told me all this?’

‘Because I think people should know what the Randles have done to me. Even the police think he’s guilty but they can’t break him.’

She’d made up that bit, but it added credibility to her story.

‘So, you actually
want
me to start spreading the word about that creep, is that it?’

‘Something like that. I’ll be speaking to Jimmy as well. See if I can persuade him into backing you up, saying he’s heard the same story.’

Brenda gave a short laugh. ‘With the two of us at it, it’ll be round the camp in a day, and all over Malton by the day after that.’ Lily detected a note of glee in her voice. ‘In fact,’ added Brenda, ‘I reckon I can have it all over Church Fenton RAF camp by the weekend.’

‘So, you’ll do it?’

‘Do it? Try and stop me! I don’t hear stories like this every day about a pillock like Randle. Believe me, Lily, in a couple of days he won’t dare come out from under his stone.’

‘Thanks, Brenda.’

Lily put the phone down and looked at Dee with raised eyebrows, happy with herself to have taken some action against Randle.

‘I take it she’s agreed to do it?’

‘With knobs on,’ said Lily. ‘Randle’s in trouble. Do you think we should mention this to your pal on the
Craven Herald
?’

‘Do no harm to tell him,’ said Dee. ‘He might be able to make something of it if he doesn’t mention any names.’

Henry Smithson of the
Craven Herald
decided against running such a destructive unsubstantiated rumour in his newspaper but wished Dee the best of luck with it.

‘If the rumour becomes public knowledge I might be able to do something with it, but right now it’s just inviting an indefensible libel action. I’d be obliged if you keep me up to date with how things are going with all this.’

Ten days later Squadron
Leader Hector Manders, DSO, DFC, of RAF Church Fenton, put a call through to the officer in command of Eden camp. His voice oozed authority.

‘Am I speaking to the officer in command?’

‘You are. This is Major Bykers. To whom am I speaking?’

Bykers knew exactly who he
was speaking to. Manders was a well-known war hero. Bykers’ telephonist had told him who it was, but he didn’t like this man’s tone of voice.

‘Squadron Leader Manders, Church Fenton.’

‘How can I help you, Squadron Leader?’

‘Well, there’s a particularly nasty rumour going around this camp regarding some of your men abducting children for disgusting purposes. Children who subsequently and mysteriously disappear.’

‘And you actually believe this nonsense, do you, Squadron Leader?’

‘It matters little what I believe. Such a vile rumour will do His Majesty’s forces no end of harm. There’s just one actual name being bandied about – that of a Sergeant Randle. I take it you’ve heard this rumour.’

‘I’ve heard the original version of it. It’s obviously become much more lurid as it spread. It’s completely untrue of course.’

‘Do you have a Sergeant Randle?’

Bykers chose not to prolong this conversation. This man’s attitude was annoying him. He was of equivalent rank and he didn’t have to kow-tow to Manders. ‘Thank you for letting me know, Squadron Leader. I now have urgent matters to attend to.’

He put down the phone. His
face was red with anger that this bloody silly nonsense should have spread as far as Church Fenton. One of his officers had already had a word in his ear about the rumour which, at that time, was indeed confined to one man – Sergeant Randle. He also knew the police had been questioning Randle about a missing boy, but the police had taken no action so he’d chosen to leave well alone lest he give this appalling rumour credence. Things had apparently gone too far. He went to his office door and spoke to a corporal sitting at a desk.

‘Corporal, bring Sergeant Randle to my office at the bloody double.’

Had DS Bannister known the
outcome he might not have let slip the name Dee McGuire when he was interviewing Randle. In general conversation, after he’d become convinced that the Randles had nothing to do with Michael’s abduction, he had mentioned that Lily was living with a woman of that name in Shipley. It took Randle just a few minutes to track down her address in a Bradford phone book. It was entered under D. McGuire but it was the only D. McGuire in the book.

Randle had watched the house for five hours, from seven a.m. until noon. He’d seen Dee leave on her motorbike at eight and watched as Lily came out to put some rubbish in the bin at quarter past ten. All during that morning no one else came in or out. He wanted to make sure that no one else was in the house, particularly the young man who’d brought Lily and Dee out to camp. The man’s van wasn’t there. There was no van of any description outside the house. He had to be sure she was in on her own. At five past twelve he walked past the house. He was wearing a flat cap pulled down over his face, and workman’s overalls; had she looked up from her book she would have seen him but wouldn’t have recognised him. He saw her, alone in the front room, reading.