Page 56 of Strangers in Time

A G LUM D ISCOVERY

L ATER, BOTH M OLLY AND Oliver stared in dismay at the money and other items salvaged from Molly’s home that were resting on the counter.

“Charlie was here,” she said pointedly. “These things are from my home.” She opened the tin box, revealing the money inside. “This was our household funds.” She lifted the photo of her and her parents from the pile and studied it, as Oliver rubbed his chin, evidently lost in thought. He glanced at the doorway.

“Do you… could he have seen us speaking with the inspector and perhaps deduced what that was about? Or possibly he overheard…?”

“And then he left this here and…?” said Molly, looking to be near tears.

“It would explain things, surely. And then he might have run off, not wishing to bring any trouble upon us.”

“We have to find him, Mr. Oliver. We have to tell him that we know he had nothing to do with what happened to that boy and the constable.”

“But it seems as though he was here that night, Molly.”

“You can’t believe he wanted that boy and the constable to die.”

“Absolutely not. Charlie is a good lad. But he… well, he…”

“What?” she said sharply.

“He actually did pinch some money from me one night.”

“What!”

“But he brought it all back the next day. I mean, he came all this way to bring the money back. Now that is a good person.”

“Yes, it is,” said a relieved Molly.

“But in the eyes of Inspector Willoughby, he was at the scene of the crime and then ran, which, in itself, makes him culpable.”

“Then what can we do?”

“We need to find Charlie and make sure he’s safe and that he knows we believe him to be innocent and that we will… shelter him.”

“But isn’t that a crime?”

Oliver looked deeply troubled. “It could be considered such, but I am the adult and will thus be held accountable. Because of your age you will not be.”

“ Charlie is younger than I am, and yet he is being hunted by the police for a crime, so I’m not sure your position regarding me is accurate,” countered Molly.

“You are absolutely right about that,” conceded Oliver, sighing.

“But I don’t care about that. Charlie is my friend. In fact, you two are the only friends I have. So how do we go about finding him?”

“The first place to look is his old flat. He might have gone back there. However, it may already have another tenant living in it. With housing scarce, these things tend to happen fast. We’ll go there straightaway.”

Molly picked up the money Charlie had left behind and handed it to Oliver. “You should have this. It’s… partial payment for us, at least now for me, to be staying here. Until Charlie returns,” she added quickly.

They headed off. The sidewalks were fairly empty because a thick fog was filtering in; the air was bracingly chilly. They each had a gas mask with them, and they used the white paint on the curbs, trees, and lampposts to see their way.

“So an auxiliary… what was it again?” he said.

“A nurse auxiliary.” She explained to him about her medical experiences in Leiston.

He shook his head. “My goodness, Molly, to do that sort of work at such a young age. I’ve never heard of another such case as that. And the way you dealt with that injured man? It’s remarkable, truly.”

“Young people are capable of a great deal if the need is there,” she replied with spirit.

“Quite so, yes.”

“And you must write that letter to Matron Tweedy tonight.”

“I promise that I shall.”

After a considerable walk resulting in tired, pinched feet, they reached Dapleton Terrace. Inquiries made within to several of the residents revealed that not a single one had seen Charlie since his grandmother had been taken away. They also learned that while the flat had been let, the new tenants had not moved in as yet.

They walked up the stairs and down the hall to Charlie’s old home.

She glanced at him. “You never told me how you knew where Charlie lived.”

“I dropped off something for him. Something he had lost near my shop. It included this address. But I have not been inside. Have you been here before?”

“Yes, once when Charlie and I went on a picnic, and a second time when we came looking for the book that you gave him. He had accidentally left it behind.”

“I see. And this Lonzo chap nicked it, you said?”

“Yes.”

The door was unlocked and they quietly entered. Oliver snicked on a light, and the feeble illumination allowed them to look around.

Molly showed him the cupboard where Charlie had his bed box.

Oliver stood there for a few moments looking down at the compartment that was barely large enough for a toddler much less a lad Charlie’s age.

In Gran’s bedroom Molly saw the photograph on the wall. “Surely, he would want that.”

“Yes,” said Oliver, drawing closer. “They look to be his parents.”

He took the photograph off the wall and slid it into his coat pocket.

“I would imagine his grandmother had a purse or some such,” said Molly. “But I don’t see it anywhere. Or the ration books. I should have thought to look for them when I came here with Charlie the last time, but he was so upset about Lonzo taking his book that it never occurred to me.”

“I’m afraid that both her purse and the ration books are long gone by now.”

“Do you think he could have gone back to where I lived?”

“There would be no reason to. He obviously already went there to search through the rubble and found the items he left at the shop.”

“He did mention that Lonzo had been, well, expelled by the families that took him.”

“Where did he live, then?”

“Charlie never said.”

He looked around despondently. “I’m afraid, Molly, that unless we are quite fortunate indeed, we might very well have to wait for Charlie to return to us.”

Her face fell. “But what if he never does? What if he tries to join the army, like Lonzo?”

“Charlie would know that would be impossible. This Lonzo might have been able to pass as a young man of volunteer age, but Charlie simply cannot.”

They found a bus that would take them back to Covent Garden. When Molly had admonished him over the price of the tickets he said, “I’m tired, my feet are very sore, as I’m sure yours are, and I still have to make my air warden rounds tonight. And you are going to work in the morning. And I have a letter to write for you. And then I have another letter to write.”

“Who is the second letter going to?”

“A chap I know in the War Office. He might know something of your father. I would ring him up on the telephone, but he never answers it. Against strict regulations or something. Quite annoying.” He gave Molly a weak smile.

They settled back for the ride to Covent Garden as the rain began to fall and the wind to bluster; the chill scooted right inside the bus and clutched them tightly.

Molly watched as Oliver pulled his thin coat more snugly around him, tipped his hat downward, and shut his eyes.

She and Charlie had never found out what Oliver was doing with the man who had German papers in his flat along with a funny machine. Yet Molly could not believe that Oliver was involved in anything criminal.

If I can’t believe in him, who can I believe in? I have no one left.