With a groan, Sam put the receiver down.
He’d been staring at the painting on the wall in front of him while he talked: it showed two horses grazing in a green meadow. Not yet ready to move, he allowed his gaze to wander around the small sitting room, which, to judge by the mending basket he saw lying on the sofa, a swatch of blue material protruding from the lid, and a writing desk of delicate design, must be Mrs Ramsay’s. His eye was caught by a pastel drawing of a smiling, dark-haired child of one or two. Nell, as a baby, he reckoned.
‘Oh, Christ!’ The exclamation was wrung from his lips.
Sighing, he got to his feet. Flower-patterned curtains drawn back from a sash window gave a glimpse of the garden and Sam stood for a few moments gazing out at a lily pond whose still surface, like a grey shroud, reflected the lowering sky.
‘What now?’ He spoke the words aloud, knowing what the answer had to be, but unwilling to face it as yet.
Quitting the room, he walked down the passage to the kitchen, at the back of the house, where Bess, the Ramsays’ cook, awaited him. Flushed and anxious, she had been watching for his arrival and he’d seen her red face at the kitchen window as he’d unlatched the back gate. Before he and Sal had crossed the bricked yard, the door had been flung open and Bess’s plump, white-clad figure had appeared.
‘Oh, Sam, tell me… have you any news?’
She’d been instructed by her mistress to show him to the telephone so that he could ring Ada. Back in the kitchen now, he found her shelling peas at the table, and guessed she’d been trying to keep herself occupied until his return. Her face fell at the sight of his.
‘Ada’s talked to Eddie’s sister. She rang half an hour ago. They had a card from him a week ago, she said, but he didn’t mention anything about coming home. They don’t know where he is.’
‘But how can he just disappear? It don’t make sense.’ Bess’s homely features were twisted in distress. She seemed on the verge of tears. Sam could only shake his head.
He’d been pondering the matter, though, turning it over in his mind. The process had started even before he’d arrived at Oak Green. Walking over from Coyne’s Farm, blowing on his fingers to ward off the biting cold, which had returned with the fading of afternoon, it had occurred to him that something might have happened to Eddie, either on the way over to Hove, if he’d decided, after all, to go home, or somewhere else. That he might have been hurt in an accident, got knocked down by a car, perhaps, or injured in some other way, and be lying in hospital now. Unconscious, for sure, because otherwise he would have let people know who he was, and the police would have got in touch with his family.
At first Sam had shied away from the thought. He had not given up hope then that the mystery might be solved when he spoke to his wife; that she would have had word from Hove regarding Eddie’s whereabouts. But having learned the worst now, he was forced back to his earlier line of reasoning, disturbing though it was. He saw that the nettle would have to be grasped.
‘When do you expect Mrs Ramsay home, love?’ He put the question gently to Bess. He didn’t want to share his fears with her. The poor thing was upset enough as it was. It was clear she was sweet on Eddie, which might be no more than a fantasy so far as his old pal was concerned, but was no less real to her on that account. She was sitting now, staring at the bowl of shelled peas before her, the glint of tears held back shining in her eyes. ‘She told me she’d be playing bridge.’
‘That’s right…’ Bess came back to herself with a half-sob. She pushed a strand of hair back under her white cap. ‘She’s gone over to Petersfield. She said she’d try and get back not too late…’
Sam grunted. He’d been hoping the mistress of the house would be there, either to share his burden of worry, or, better still, to tell him his fears were groundless. But he saw he’d have to act on his own.
‘Can I use the phone again?’ He got to his feet. ‘Is that all right?’
‘The phone? Yes, of course… but why?’ She looked up, blinking. ‘What for, Sam?’
‘I’m sorry, lass. It has to be done.’ He couldn’t keep his concern from her any longer, and with a sigh he reached across the table to pat her on the shoulder. ‘We need to know if anything’s happened to Eddie. I’m going to ring the police.’