To Die but Once (Maisie Dobbs #14)(90)
“Funny, innit, miss—how it’s a nice warm afternoon out there, but now we’re both feeling like it’s a winter’s morning?”
“It’s the adrenaline, Billy. The rush of adrenaline that gets you through a shock leaves you cold once it diminishes in your body. At least we can still be shocked—I would hate to have to accept the death of Sally Coombes as something perfectly normal.”
“I know what you mean.” He put down the mug and tapped the map. “I can see all the links now, but some still seem a bit faint.” He paused. “And I’ve a question, miss—if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Go on, Billy. We should sit here and talk over everything that’s happened—so we can begin to take it all in, along with the outcome. This has been a testing case.”
“It’s been an odd one, no two ways about it. All these threads and lines of inquiry, and you’re not the one tying them all together. Well—you were when it came to Sally Coombes, but. . .” Billy reached for his mug again. “Anyway, I don’t want to speak out of turn.”
Maisie looked up at the man who had been at her side as her assistant for the best part of eleven years, a man she had seen struggle with lingering pain from war wounds sustained in 1917, with addiction, the loss of a beloved child, a very ill wife, and the challenges of bringing two sons to manhood as war approached. In turn he had witnessed Maisie battle her own shell shock along with the physical wounds of war, and then her blossoming when finding love again. He had known her through widowhood, through a homecoming from another war, and had returned to work for her as she reestablished her business.
“You have every right to express your opinions, Billy—and if I am not mistaken, you have been harboring feelings about the way I’ve managed this case.”
“It’s just not like you—you’ve almost got there, you’ve all your notes from the investigation. You’ve got this.” He tapped the case map. “And you’ve handed the lot over to Caldwell and that bloke from the Sweeney Todd—Harry Bream. You’re not going to be on the spot when they bring in Freddie whatshisname, and you never faced up to Jimmy Robertson—never even attempted to see him. That’s not like you at all. Now, admittedly, being in the same room with that felon would be a bit of a chance—after all, he’s not known for taking prisoners, but still . . . why? Why aren’t you in at the end? Is it because you’ve not got the motor car anymore, and you can’t exactly nip here and there on the train and the bus? Or is it to do with the money? Because as far as I can see, there ain’t some fancy client falling over himself to settle an account on this one. All the costs are down to the business.”
Maisie took another sip of tea before responding. “Certainly giving up the Alvis has clipped my wings—it’s hard to act at speed without a motor car. And it’s not the money, Billy. I daresay there will be some ‘consideration’ coming from Scotland Yard—after all, I’ve given them almost everything they need to make arrests. Or I will have by the time we make our statements. And there are funds in the business account to absorb a few losses.” She sighed. “No, it’s something quite different. I have to be careful for another reason.”
“I reckon after all this time, miss, you could tell me what it is,” said Billy.
Maisie set down her mug, pushed back her chair and walked to the window, her eyes drawn to the thriving clematis. She lifted a hand to wipe away a tear, and turned back to Billy, leaning against the windowsill as she sighed before beginning to explain herself.
“You’re right—together we’ve put all the pieces on the table for Scotland Yard, and yet I am not the one constructing the final picture, though it’s pretty obvious—it’ll fall into place without any more help from me.”
“But, miss—”
“Wait, Billy—just wait.” She cleared her throat. “You’ve probably gathered—indeed, I think it’s fairly obvious—that I have become very fond of our little evacuee, Anna.”
“She’s a treasure of a child, a real treasure,” said Billy.
“She is indeed.” Maisie nodded, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat. “And whilst her late grandmother—just before she passed away—signed forms naming me as Anna’s guardian, my stated responsibility was not only to offer Anna a good home, but to find her a family who loved her. My role was to be temporary, a place for her to be safe until she could be settled forever. It’s implied in the language.”
Billy opened his mouth to speak, but Maisie raised her hand and shook her head. “Let me get to the end, Billy.” She took another deep breath. “I decided to take steps to adopt Anna—to become her mother. But of course there are hurdles to leap across. I have managed to persuade the authorities that it would be nigh on impossible to find her Maltese father—at first they stipulated that I should prove that both parents had relinquished interest, either through death or a signed contract. And then without any prompting from me, they concluded that it might be difficult to place her, as she is not exactly colored like an English rose. But neither am I—and I have had very mixed feelings because on one hand I was glad they identified a problem with placing her, which gives weight to my application, yet at the same time I was filled with anger that they dared to voice such . . . such . . . prejudice.” She sighed, shaking her head. “And I couldn’t exactly take them to task for it—that would have definitely put someone’s back up, and I need people on my side, not against me. To the good, I have been fortunate in the references I’ve been able to submit, but two things stand in the way.”