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‘Gawd! Wot’s ’appened?’ the man said with a sudden burst of anger. ‘It weren’t my fault!’
Crow must have heard the fear in him. Hester could all but smell it in his breath and the stale sweat of his clothes. Both knew they would learn nothing of use if they made themselves enemies.
‘I’m not investigating anything wrong,’ Crow said quietly. ‘At least I don’t think so.’
‘I din’t see nothing,’ the man said, still defensive.
‘Are you Mr Roberts?’
‘What if I am? Not that I’m saying so, mind.’
Crow kept his voice level. ‘Well, supposing it is you, do you have three children?’
Robe
rts froze. His whole body stiffened and the little colour there was drained out of his skin.
Hester felt a pity for him she could not afford to indulge. Was it fear of authority or hatred of it the reason he had not reported his children missing, if indeed they were?
Then she saw a movement behind Roberts and realised that his wife was standing close to him, listening. There was fear in her face too, and indecision, but most of all there was grief.
‘May we come in?’ Crow asked.
Roberts said ‘no’, and his wife said ‘yes’ at the same moment.
Crow waited, Hester beside him and Scuff a few feet behind them both.
‘Please, Alfred?’ Mrs Roberts said quietly, choking her voice back.
Another moment’s silence, then Roberts backed away, leaving her to pull the door open.
Hester followed Crow into the small front room, which obviously served for dining and any relaxation they might have. Scuff waited outside. The room was sparsely furnished, but tidy and surprisingly clean. Hester looked around. There were no toys in sight, no books except one, which was thin, with its binding glued back together a trifle crookedly. A child’s book.
Mrs Roberts was bony and her hair lank, but her features were good and she could have been in her early thirties. Poverty and child-bearing had extinguished the light in her.
Crow sat down as if he intended to stay. He indicated one of the other chairs to Mrs Roberts to sit also.
‘You have three children?’ he asked her gently.
Hester waited quietly, watching.
‘Six,’ Mrs Roberts answered, and then when she saw his confusion she added, ‘Eldest’s gone her own way. Youngest are still babes. Thank ’eaven.’ The tears welled in her eyes and she spoke with difficulty. ‘It’s Maggie, Charlie and Mike ’as gone.’
‘Did they all go at once?’
She nodded and the tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘They’re good kids, mister. Maggie specially.’ She gulped. ‘Wot’s ’appened to ’em?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ Crow evaded the answer. ‘But I’ll find out.’
‘Tell me the details, Mrs Roberts,’ Hester asked gently. ‘When did you last see them? What time of day? When did you realise they were gone?’
‘What good does it do now?’ Mr Roberts moved closer to his wife, snarling at Crow, ignoring Hester. ‘You’re not gonna do your doctor thing ter make yourself important over our grief! They’re gone.’
‘’E’s only tryin’ ter ’elp, Alfred,’ Mrs Roberts said desperately. ‘Mebbe they in’t gone for good! Mebbe ’e can find ’em!’ Her voice wavered. She looked from Crow to her husband and back again.
‘Don’t accuse me!’ Roberts said furiously. There was rage in his face, and something else Hester took a moment to recognise. It was a wild, unquenchable pain, and only after staring at him and seeing the dull flush on his skin did she realise it was also guilt. He had not reported the children’s disappearance because he had something to do with it.
He had a wife and five children to feed, and he was in financial desperation. Maybe he had sold the children, possibly even to someone who had promised to feed them. She had seen it before. It was a terrible answer, but perhaps all he had. Sell some, to save the others? It was better than losing them all.
