Виктория Холт - The Captive

The girl stared at us in amazement.

“We’re trying to find an old friend,” went on Felicity, ‘and all we can remember is that her name is Ada. We just wondered whether she lived around here . she might come into the shop as most people would, I suppose? “

“What… ?” she stammered.

“Do you know any of the people round here?”

“No. I don’t live here … always. I’ve just come for a bit … I’m helping my aunt.”

“Perhaps we could see her?”

“Aunt…” she called.

“Aunt Ada.”

Felicity and I exchanged glances of wonder.

“Aunt Ada …” whispered Felicity.

“There’s people here wants to see you,” shouted the girl.

“Half a tick,” said a voice.

“I’m coming.”

Was it possible? Could our search be ended? As soon as we saw the woman we knew this was not so. No one could mistake her for a witch.

Never could this one have been Simon’s Aunt Ada. She was very plump, shaped like a cottage loaf, with a rosy, good-humoured face, untidy greying hair and very alert blue eyes.

“Now what can I do for you ladies?” she said, beaming on us.

“It’s a very strange request,” said Felicity.

“We are looking for someone who, we believe, lives here, and we can’t recall her surname.

All that we know is that her Christian name is Ada. “

“Well, she’s not me. I’m Ada. Ada Mac Gee that’s me.”

“Our Ada had a sister called Alice.”

“Alice … Alice who?”

“Well, we don’t know her name either. But she died. We just wondered if among the people here . and you must know most of them . there was an Ada. “

I guessed she was the sort of woman who loved a gossip. She was naturally interested in two strangers who had come into her shop, not for apples or pears or a pint of paraffin oil, but because they were looking for an Ada.

“You must know almost everyone in Witchenhoime,” I said, almost pleadingly.

“Well, most of them come in at some time or other. It’s a bit far to go into Rippleston to shop.”

“Yes, I should imagine so.”

“Ada,” she said.

“Well, there’s Ada Parker down at Green-gates … she’s not Parker any more now … she married again. It’s her third.

We always call her Ada Parker . though not to her face. But Jim Parker was her first husband. Names stick here. “

“Perhaps we’ll call on her. Are there any others?”

“Well, there’s Miss Ferrers. I’ve heard she was an Ada. I remember the Adas … seeing as I’m one of them. I’ve never heard her called Ada, mind … but I’ve got a notion that’s her name.”

“Yes, I can see why you remember the name. I think we were lucky we came to you.”

“Well, I would if I could help you find this friend of yours, of course. Ada … yes, I’m sure Miss Ferrers is an Ada. ‘, I’ve heard it somewhere. Keeps herself to herself. A cut above the rest of us. I’m sure that’s what she thinks, any way.”

“Did she have a sister, do you remember?

“Couldn’t rightly say. She’s been in that cottage for years. I don’t recall a sister. It’s a pretty little place and she keeps it like a picture. Rowan Cottage, it’s called, on account of the tree outside.”

“You’ve been so helpful to us,” said Felicity.

“Thank you very much.”

‘, “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Good day,” we said, and came out. The bell rang as we opened the door and stepped into the street.

“Perhaps we ought to have bought something,” I said.

“She was most obliging.”

“She didn’t expect that. She enjoyed talking to us. I think we’ll dispense with the much-married Mrs. Parker and go to her if the lady at Rowan Cottage fails us. I somehow feel that our Aunt Ada wouldn’t have had three husbands.”

“Look,” I said.

“The houses back on to the river.”

We had walked through the street which seemed to be the whole of Witchenhoime without finding Rowan Cottage. We stood blankly staring about us. Then we saw a house some short distance from the rest and to our delight the rowan tree.

“Well, she would be apart from the others,” said Felicity.

“Remember, she thinks herself ” a cut above”. I imagine she will be formidable.”

“Simon thought so.”

“Come on, let’s beard the lioness in her den.”

“What on earth are we going to say?

“Are you Aunt Ada? Simon’s Aunt Ada?” How does one open a conversation like that? -‘ “We managed with the shop lady.”

“I believe this one will be different.”

Boldly I took the brass knocker and brought it down with an authoritative rat-tat. The sound reverberated through the house. There was a pause and then the door was opened.

She stood before us-tall and thin with greying hair severely drawn back from her face into a knot at the back of her neck; her eyes behind thick glasses were shrewd and alert; her crisply white blouse came right up to her chin, held there by bone supports. A gold chain hung about her neck with what I presumed was a watch tucked in at her waist band.

“Please forgive the intrusion,” I said.

“Mrs. Mac Gee at the shop told us we should find you here.”

“Yes?” she said, coolly enquiring.

Felicity took over.

“We are trying to find a lady called Ada, but unfortunately we don’t know her surname. Mrs. Mac Gee told us you were Miss Ada Ferrers and we wondered if you were the lady we sought.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. But did you by any chance have a sister named Alice who had a son called Simon?”

I saw her flinch behind her glasses; her colour changed a little and I knew then that we had found Aunt Ada.

She was suspicious immediately; “Are you from the Press?” she asked.

“They’ve found him, have they? Oh … is it all going to start again?”

“Miss Ferrers, we are not from the Press. May we come in and explain?

We are trying to prove Simon’s innocence. “

She hesitated. Then she stepped back uncertainly, holding the door open for us to pass into the house.

The hall was small and very neat, with a hat stand on which hung a tweed coat and a felt hat hers obviously and on a small table there was a brass bowl and a vase of flowers.

She threw open a door and we went into a sitting-room which smelt of furniture polish.

“Sit down,” she said, and we did so. She sat facing us.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” I said.

“I must tell you that he was on a ship. I was also on that ship. We were shipwrecked and I survived with him. He saved my life and that of another man. We were taken to Turkey and there I lost sight of him. But during the time we were together, he told me everything. I am convinced of his innocence and I am trying to prove it. I want to see everybody who can tell me anything about him . anything that might be useful…”

“How can you prove he didn’t do this terrible thing?”

“I don’t know, but I’m trying to.”

“Well, what do you want of me? You’re sure you’re not from the newspapers?”

“I assure you we are not. My name is Rosetta Cranleigh. You may have read about my survival. There was something in the papers about it when I came home.”

“Wasn’t there a man who was crippled or something?”

“Yes, he was with us, too.”

She frowned, still disbelieving.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“It sounds a bit odd to me. And I’ve had enough of it. I don’t want to hear another word. I knew it would go wrong right from the beginning.”

“You mean … when he was a boy?”

She nodded.

“He ought to have come to me. I would have taken him in.