Little Girl Lost by Katie Flynn Read Free Book Online Page B

be in three days’ time. I’ve written to Caitlin asking her to reply as soon as possible.’
    Sylvie had glanced up at him as they drew level but she was quick-witted enough now to follow his lead and look straight ahead. ‘Things have changed,’ she said softly. ‘My mam knows and I’m hoping she’ll help us. So mebbe it’ll be easier to gerraway. We’d best talk, though . . . you’re free on Friday? I’ll be doin’ Ma-in-law’s messages and that’ll include visitin’ Charlotte Street for fish. I reckon I’ll be there about ten in the morning; how would that be?’
    Brendan hesitated. The market was a pretty public spot, especially on a Friday, but then sometimes it was easier to be missed amongst a crowd. And if either of them saw someone they knew whilst they were together, they could simply move apart. After all, the pub in which she lived was on his beat; it would be natural for them to exchange a few words. He said as much and Sylvie gave a quick little nod. ‘Right, and if something happens, and I can’t get to the market, then we’d best meet outside Lewis’s after work,’ she said.
    Brendan was about to reply when they reached the gates and he saw that the Dugdales were waiting for their daughter-in-law. Hastily, he dropped back again, walking so slowly that he was soon overtaken by the last of the mourners. He saw Len and the warders approach the family group. Len spoke, his father answered, and the big woman he knew to be Mrs Dugdale surged forward as though she were about to embrace her son, but her husband grabbed her arm, restraining her, and the warders began to lead Len towards a cab which was standing by the kerb. They bundled him into it, and as Brendan emerged from the cemetery Len leaned out of the window. ‘Not long now, queen,’ he shouted, clearly addressing his wife who stood, hands clasped, gazing towards him. ‘Only another five months an’ I’ll be home. Oh, Gawd, I can’t wait!’
    He might have said something else but was jerked back into the cab. The driver whipped up his horses and the last Brendan saw of Len Dugdale was one beefy hand, raised in farewell, as the cab disappeared.
    Sylvie abandoned her parents-in-law as soon as she could. Fortunately, they were deep in conversation with relatives, some of whom had come a considerable distance to attend the funeral. Folk had been genuinely fond of the old man, but he had been ninety-two and had been bedridden for the past three years. Now that the serious business of burying him was over they could talk and even laugh once more, so it was an easy matter for Sylvie to jerk at Ma Dugdale’s sleeve and tell her that she intended to hurry ahead. ‘I know Mam will be setting out the food and brewing tea,’ she hissed into her mother-in-law’s ear, ‘but there’s even more people comin’ back than we expected, so I reckon we’ll need at least another couple of loaves of sandwiches, an’ mebbe a few more cakes and scones. I can pick them up from Sample’s if I hurry, and still be back in time to give a hand before most folk arrive.’
    ‘You do that. You ain’t a bad girl, even though you scarce said a word to our Len,’ Mrs Dugdale said grudgingly. ‘Poor lad, he were longing to hear your voice, but you didn’t go near nor by.’
    ‘Nor did you; we were told not to try to approach him,’ Sylvie said smartly, stung by the injustice of the remark. ‘I’ll be off then. There’s Becky, too. She’ll be under Mam’s feet I don’t doubt, though she’ll be doin’ her best to help.’ This time she did not give her mother-in-law a chance to reply but turned and began to wriggle through the crowd. She was lucky enough to see a tram going in the right direction and jumped aboard, alighting straight outside the bakery she had intended to visit, so that she was back at the Ferryman and slicing bread well before the funeral party arrived.
    Becky was delighted to see her and was full of her own helpfulness, though