The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

“Isn’t that perfect, Sid?” Gus said. “We have a chance to join Molly in another of her escapades. And we thought that when she got married she’d turn into a boring and respectable housewife.”


“I can’t say I ever really thought that,” Sid said.

They both looked at me and laughed. And I felt a wave of happiness run through me, too.





Seventeen

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast of sausage and flapjacks at the inn, we set off early for the train station. Bridie was excited at the thought of going on a train. She tried to restrain herself in the presence of two strange ladies, but was dancing around like a colt at the start of a horse race. Overnight, I had lain awake in my unfamiliar single bed, listening to the sounds of the river while thoughts raced through my head. An idea had come to me which I subsequently mentioned to Sid and Gus as we walked through the busy early morning streets.

“I have Maureen’s photograph with me. I should show it around at the station. Maybe someone might have remembered her catching a train.”

“You could show it around town too,” Sid suggested. “She could have found someone to give her a ride. Where exactly is the convent?”

“It must be more than a mile from here, on the far northern fringe of the town. Up on a hill.”

“So it would be a long walk down into town, especially for one who had recently given birth,” Sid said. “And I expect it’s quite a lonely road, isn’t it? Not much traffic?”

“It was quite lonely,” I said. “Certainly no buildings nearby and not much sign of houses beyond.”

“Then probably any passing cart would have offered her a ride down the hill,” Sid said. “We’ll have to find out who might go up and down that hill into town.”

“Splendid idea, Sid,” Gus said. “But Molly isn’t up to walking for miles at the moment. We should look into renting a little horse and buggy of some sort. Then we can go around the neighborhood at will.”

“You know how to drive a horse and buggy, do you?” I asked.

“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?” Gus looked surprised. “We always had our own little pony and cart to drive around the estate when I was growing up.”

“You led a very privileged life, dearest,” Sid said.

The station with its fretwork-carved roof appeared ahead of us, with the river beyond—early morning mist was curling over the river’s surface and hiding the far bank. The air was delightfully cool. After we had bought our tickets I showed Maureen’s portrait to the man in the ticket booth and asked if he might have seen her.

“When was this?” he asked.

“I think it must have been two months ago.”

He looked at me as if I was mad. “My dear young lady, do you know how many day-trippers come out this way during the summer? Trainloads of them. If I remembered any particular young lady she’d have had to be a corker or else have something wrong with her. This one looks nice enough, but I see a lot of pretty young ladies every day.” He looked at Sid, with her cropped black hair and black silk jacket. “I’d remember you, miss,” he said. “Would the young lady in the photograph have been wearing something out of the ordinary?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “She had been staying at the convent with the nuns. I expect she would have been wearing something demure and suitable.”

“With the nuns. One of those girls, huh?” He gave us a knowing look. “I’d have remembered her when she arrived then, but not when she departed.”

A discreet cough behind us hinted that someone else was now waiting in line. We thanked him and moved on. I tried my picture again with the porter and the man who blew the whistle, but got no reaction from either of them.

“You wait until later in the day,” the porter said. “This platform will be filled with young ladies, come up for the day from the city.”

“But this would have been early in the morning,” I said. “One of the first trains.”

He stared at the photograph again then shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. But then my wife always tells me I’m an unobservant kind of guy. I never even notice if she’s got a new hat.”

We heard the sound of puffing and the train approached, sending up a plume of dark smoke. Sid helped me up the high step into the compartment and the others clambered in beside me. Then with a lurch we set off, the puffing slow to start with but rapidly gathering momentum. Mist drifled across the track from time to time. Ships appeared and were swallowed into mist and as we traveled we watched it curl upward, as the sun’s heat warmed the air.