Priscilla Masters: Frozen Charlotte

Talith knew she felt guilty. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference, really.’

The nurse nodded. ‘I know that but I still feel bad that I didn’t at least go over to her and speak. To tell you the truth I was relieved she wasn’t one of the more demanding patients. Some of them can be quite difficult.’

Talith looked at the nurse. She had one of those open faces, honest and true. ‘It really wouldn’t have made any difference, I promise.’

She looked mollified at that.

‘Now then. At what time did you first notice her?’

‘Eight, I think.’ She looked uncertain. ‘I can’t be sure.’

‘And she was simply sitting quietly in the corner?’

‘Sort of crooning. She was looking down at her lap, tucking the blanket round her. She looked sort of…’ Lucy fumbled for the word and found it: ‘Serene. Contented.’

‘And when you spoke to her, later?’

‘She seemed startled, a bit shy.’ Lucy Ramshaw thought for a moment. ‘As though she didn’t want anyone to bother with her.’

‘What time was that?’

‘Nearer ten thirty. Things were beginning to quieten down and I wondered about her.’

‘OK,’ Talith said. ‘Did you notice anything else?’

‘Well – she was dressed fairly shabbily.’ Lucy frowned. ‘There was paint on her jeans.’

‘She said she’d been doing some decorating – well – more investigating a proposed loft conversion.’

Lucy nodded. ‘Right – well – she was one of those people who faded into the background. I think she would have sat there all night if I hadn’t gone over to her.’

‘And when you did?’

‘She was in a sort of trance. She appeared vague. When I spoke to her she seemed startled almost as though she didn’t quite know where she was.’

‘And she let you take the baby from her?’

Lucy looked distressed. ‘Not at first. I didn’t realize what it was.’ She closed her eyes against the creeping horror she had felt when she had realized that in the blanket was an infant who had not moved or cried in the entire time it had been in the department. ‘When I realized it was a baby I asked her to hand it to me and she did. Then I looked…’ She was stricken at the memory. ‘It was horrible. Those eye sockets. That blackened, papery skin. Awful. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. It felt so light in my arms. Then I saw what it was and – I almost dropped it.’ She went pale.

‘Then what?’

‘I must have shouted out. People came running.’ She fixed a pair of large blue-grey eyes on him. ‘I’m a bit hazy. It all happened so quickly. Someone must have taken the baby from me because I wasn’t holding it. That’s about all I remember.’

‘Thanks,’ Talith said. ‘I’m sorry to have to question you like this but I thought better here than in the station or at work.’

Lucy Ramshaw gave a deep sigh. ‘Thanks. I suppose there’ll be an enquiry at the hospital,’ she said gloomily. ‘Just what I need with my wedding coming up.’

‘That’s up to the hospital,’ Talith said. ‘Not us. I would imagine they’ll want to play it down rather than make a big issue of it.’

‘I hope so,’ Lucy said, with feeling. Then: ‘Do you know anything about the circumstances? Was the baby hers? She looked a bit old for that. A grandparent?’

‘We don’t know yet.’

‘Or did she just find it?’

‘I can’t really discuss the case with you,’ Talith said kindly, ‘but don’t worry about it. No one blames you for anything. Anything at all. You acted just fine.’

Lucy smiled then, a broad, wonderful smile which made Talith warm to her even more. ‘Would you like another coffee,’ she offered.

‘Thanks.’

The walk was brisk which kept them warm. They parked at the bottom and threaded up the hill, passing Spring Cottage, which had been Mary Webb’s home, Bobby, their Welsh Border Collie, giving little yaps of delight and straining on his lead. They climbed until they could see the Stretton Hills, Stiperstones and the distinctive, conical shape of the Wrekin. As she had anticipated Lyth Hill was full of sledgers and she watched them whoop and scream with a tinge of envy. Oh, for just one trip down the hill. They walked for a couple of hours, Sam striding ahead, Agnetha and Sukey arm in arm, chatting so vivaciously they hardly noticed where they were going, even taking a wrong turn a couple of times until Martha and Sam shouted them back. Martha took a few photographs, both of the snow scenes and her family and then they all trooped home to a Sunday roast, Sam sitting at the table, extolling the virtues of football and bemoaning all the games cancelled because of the freezing weather, Sukey and Agnetha being more useful, helping to peel the potatoes, lay the table and open a bottle of wine. It was a warm family day, always with that one person missing, but Martha was finishing with regrets now. It had taken her a long time but she was very much back to her old self.

Talith detoured on the way back to the station to inspect the hospital car park. Alice was the owner of a Vauxhall Zafira. He’d checked the number plate on the PNC and drove towards the back of the hospital to the A &E entrance, easy to spot because of its red signs. Alice’s car was also easy to spot. Slewed across two parking spaces and with a ticket already on the screen, warning that the car must be removed – or else. Talith added one of his own: ‘Police Aware’. He’d get it taken in to forensics although he doubted they’d find much there. He tried the door. The car was unlocked, the keys still in the ignition. Lucky it was the Shrewsbury Hospital. Had it been Telford it would have been gone by now. He pocketed the keys and peered in. As he’d thought it was neat and tidy and there was nothing on the floor except…

He slipped a glove on and picked up a child’s plastic rattle. The colours were pale and slightly faded. It didn’t look new. He shook it and heard little bells jingle.

Jingle all the way, he thought, before replacing the rattle on the floor and locking the door. He had the feeling that no child had played with this for a while. It would have to be officially found – again – by the SOCOs but it posed another question. Had the rattle been found with the child? Or was it a contribution from Alice? Talith realized that in his mind he had all but solved the case. However long the child had been dead for, the estate agents could let them know who had lived there then and, ‘Bob’s your uncle, Talith,’ he muttered to himself.

He made a quick call to the station to organize removal of the car and climbed back into his own. Talith was not normally a reflective man but this case was a learning curve for him. As he leaned forward and started the engine he mused that most cases were reduced to a random collection of odd, unconnected objects.

Like the rattle.

He returned to the station in time to see the recovery lorry setting out and gave them the keys.

Wheels in motion, he thought with satisfaction.

Two hours later he had finished his reports and was ready to go home to his own Sunday meal and put his feet up in front of the television.

In the Palk household Justin and Acantha were finding it hard not to talk to their house guest about the subject which was occupying their minds.

The trouble was that Acantha couldn’t seem to find a neutral subject. All topics led straight back to the one the three of them were struggling to avoid. Even if she asked a polite, innocuous question, like what exactly her daughter was doing these days, it always seemed to lead back to ‘Don’t tell her, Acantha. Don’t tell her.’

In the end Acantha gave in. ‘Then tell me what happened.’

‘You already know what happened,’ Alice insisted plaintively. ‘I went up into the loft to see about the conversion that Aaron wants to do.’