Page 57 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)

Cornelia held Alfred’s and Francis’s hands as they stood in front of Scotland Yard.

The Victorian grey-stone building stretched towards a thick, cloudy sky, wisps of smog curling around its edges like long-reaching fingers. Cornelia shivered. Was she wrong to bring the boys to a place where criminals had come and gone, been incarcerated or released on bail?

She drew back her shoulders. Everything would be all right once they found Stephen.

‘Right then.’ She gripped Alfred and Francis’s hands tighter and forced a smile. ‘Let’s go and find Mr Gower, shall we?’

She led them up the stone steps and through the Yard’s double doors. The vast lobby was busy with uniformed officers milling around. The space was surprisingly bright and welcoming, but she didn’t doubt for a moment that this was little more than illusion.

She approached the front desk. ‘Good morning. I wonder if I might speak to Sergeant Stephen Gower.’

The young officer nodded. ‘Do you know which department he works in, or the name of his superior?’

‘Oh.’ The self-imposed confidence she’d adopted like a protective blanket started to unravel. ‘I don’t. I… Would you be able to look up his name?’

Alfred tugged on her hand. ‘Mr Gower might be with Mr King.’

Cornelia threw an apologetic smile at the constable. ‘Who?’

‘Mr Gower told me at Christmastime that he works with the best inspector in the whole of London. I think he said his name was Mr King.’

‘Are you sure?’

Alfred shrugged.

She faced the constable. ‘Could you check?’

‘If you’ll just wait here, I’ll ring upstairs. Do you have an appointment? Only…’ He glanced at Alfred and Francis. ‘This isn’t normally a place we’d see children, Mrs…’

‘Culford. Miss.’

He raised his eyebrows and glanced again at Alfred and Francis.

Heat warmed Cornelia’s cheeks. ‘I mean, I was Mrs Parker, but I’m divorced. These are my children. They—’

‘I quite understand.’

Cornelia mentally admonished herself for faltering instead of standing tall. She had come to London convinced it was right to find Stephen, yet now a horrible, niggling doubt began to surface.

The duty officer looked past her and immediately straightened. ‘Ah, he’s just come through the door. Inspector King, sir. Do you have a moment? This lady wishes to speak with you if you can spare her a few minutes.’

Cornelia spun around as older gentleman with neatly combed, silvery hair and a matching, rather impressive, moustache came towards her. He frowned. ‘Might I help you, madam?’

Cornelia swallowed her nerves and held out her hand. ‘My name is Cornelia Culford, Are you Inspector King?’

‘I am.’ He shook her hand and glanced at Alfred and Francis, before bending over to speak to them. ‘And who might you boys be?’

Pride swept through Cornelia as Alfred and Francis stood to attention.

‘Alfred, sir.’

‘Francis, sir.’

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you.’ He shook the boys’ hands. ‘And is this lady your mother?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, in that case, why don’t you give me and your mother a moment alone, eh? There are some seats over there.’

Cornelia held Inspector King’s steely gaze.

He lowered his voice. ‘Can I ask what you think you are doing by bringing your children into Scotland Yard? This is not a playground.’

‘I understand. I am looking for—’

‘Sergeant Gower, I know.’

‘But how do you—’

‘Because he mentioned your name once… or twice.’ Disproval emanated from every part of him. ‘But, as fond as he seems of you, I can’t think he’d like a mother, however desperate, to bring her children to a place that carries such risks. We cannot control who comes into this part of the building, Miss Culford. Did it not occur to you—’

‘No, Inspector, it did not.’ Irritated and tired, Cornelia glared. ‘I came here from Oxfordshire. Alone and doing my best by my children. If you could kindly let Stephen, Sergeant Gower, know I am here, then—’

‘He isn’t here.’

She flinched, icy cold fingers of fear touched her spine. ‘Well, where is he?’

‘I’d presumed with you, but as you’re here, I have no idea.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Cornelia glanced at Alfred and Francis where they sat staring at her, hands clasped in their laps. What was she doing? The inspector was right. She must be out of her silly mind to bring the children here; to think that Stephen would welcome her surprising him this way.

She faced Inspector King. ‘I have no idea what to do. Where to even start to look for him.’

The inspector cleared his throat, his gaze ever so slightly softening. ‘Well, you could start by making your way back to Oxfordshire.’

‘Sorry?’

He gently took her elbow, moving her away from a group of gentlemen who approached the desk behind them. ‘Gower asked for a direct transfer to Oxfordshire, which I granted. He left yesterday and was to report for duty first thing Monday morning.’

‘But…’ She frowned. How could she and Stephen have missed one another? Did he ask for a transfer to be with her? Surely, there could be no other reason. Tentative euphoria rose inside her. She had to get to Culford as soon as possible. ‘I’d better leave, Inspector. Thank you for your help.’ She offered him her hand. ‘I apologise for interrupting your work.’

He took her hand and nodded. ‘Gower is a good man, Miss Culford. If there’s anyone worth having a wasted journey for, it’s him. Good luck.’

‘Thank you.’ She hurried towards the children. ‘Come along, boys. We need to get home.’

Francis grinned. ‘To Uncle Lawrence’s?’

‘No, to Culford.’ She took their hands and pulled them towards the entrance. ‘It seems Mr Gower has gone to Oxfordshire.’

‘But—’

‘No buts, Francis. Come along, Mama never should have brought you here.’

She led them from the building and out onto the street, which heaved with people hurrying in every direction. Cornelia walked blindly forward. She should have waited for Stephen to respond to her letter, but her impatience to see him, to look into his eyes and confess the depth of her feelings had been too much.

‘Mama, wait.’

Alfred’s voice halted her. ‘Darling? What is it?’

‘We can’t go back to Aunt Harriet.’

‘We have to. I’m sorry, but—’

‘Mr Gower wouldn’t stay there, Mama. No one would stay with Aunt Harriet.’

She managed a small smile. ‘She isn’t a monster, Alfred.’

‘No, but she isn’t you and Mr Gower loves you.’

Tears leapt into her eyes. ‘Oh, Alfred.’

‘We have to go back to Bath. Mr Gower will go to Uncle Lawrence for help. I know he will. He’s a good man, Mama. He makes you happy. He makes me and Francis happy.’ He glanced at his brother, who grinned in obvious agreement. ‘We go back to Uncle Lawrence’s house and Mr Gower will be there, I promise.’

Cornelia looked at her sons’ faces, their eyes pleading and so full of love. ‘You two are—’

‘We don’t care about Papa and his new life any more. We want to be with you. You and Mr Gower, Uncle Lawrence, Aunt Esther, Rose and Nathaniel. Please.’

‘Oh, my loves. So do I. More than anything.’ She pulled them into a tight embrace. ‘Let’s go home. Let’s go to Bath.’